[The camera cuts to the commentary table where Dave Thomas is wearing a sober expression.]
DT: Ladies and gentlemen… our broadcast of Aggression will continue in just a moment, but first, we’d like to give you an update on the former champion, ROCKO DAYMON.
[We cut to file footage of previous events, beginning with Daymon’s horrifying fall with Stalker out of a third-story window, and cutting to him standing in the ring with his arm in a sling, throwing the EPW World Heavyweight Title to the feet of “Triple X” Sean Stevens.]
DM: Let’s just take you fans back a few shows ago at Aggression 36 in Charlotte when, following the main, Daymon suffered a completely HORRENDOUS fall that was the result of an unsanctioned brawl with his nemesis, Stalker. When we last saw him, Rocko wordlessly came to the ring and abandoned his title, unable to defend it with his arm apparently impaired.
[Cut back to the commentary table.]
DT: Now, however, following a statement on behalf of the Daymon family, EPW has come to learn that the extent of the former champion’s injuries include a dislocated shoulder, a fractured ulna, and two broken ribs. His physician reported that the recovery time for this set of injuries could be anywhere between nine months to two years.
DM: Of course, nearly everybody has been left to wonder what is going through the former champ’s mind through these very trying and stressful past few months where he has been all but silent. However, earlier this week, Rocko Daymon was generous enough to approve of an interview with our own Mojo Massey, where the former champion spoke for the first time on the subject of his injury and those responsible for causing him to forfeit his title.
DT: Let’s roll the tape…
[Fade out…]
[…and back in, on the once critically acclaimed GXW backstage personality Mojo Massey, wearing a face that can only be described as business-like. He’s sitting on a deck chair on the back porch, and seated right across the patio table next to him is none other that the former World Heavyweight Champion himself, Rocko Daymon, wearing his sling, his standard ugly flower print shirt, and pounding down a bottle of Heineken.]
Mojo!: Hello again, fans of Empire Pro. This is Mojo Massey, currently in Tacoma, Washington at the residence of the former EPW World Heavyweight Champion himself, Rocko Daymon, here to get a few words from the legend, the myth, the MAN for the first time since his injury. First of all, Rocko… on behalf of the staff and the fans of Empire Pro, I’d just like to thank you for taking this time to clear the air on a number of subjects.
Rocko: Not a problem, Moj. The pleasure’s all mine. Want a brew?
Mojo!: Ah, no thank you.
[Shrugging, Daymon takes a swig of the green bottle in his hand.]
Mojo!: Well, Rocko, obviously what you’ve had to put up with in the past four months has been very taxing on your emotions.
[Daymon smirks.]
Rocko: That’s putting it lightly, Moj. I can’t really describe in words the roller coaster of feelings and emotions I’ve been riding for these past months. But, for right now… I think I’m fine. It’s no secret that my arm is ****ed up, and I’ve come to accept it. **** happens, and your only choice is to simply deal with it.
Mojo!: I suppose so… but don’t you feel that there’s a bit of injustice in the way your arm was maimed? I mean, had not Jason “Stalker” Reeves provoked you throughout the night, and if only “Triple X” Sean Stevens hadn’t kicked you off the ledge of that window… why, you could STILL be the champion! You could right now be preparing yourself for your first major defense! Don’t you feel robbed in any way?
[Daymon deliberates his answer carefully, taking another sip of his lager, until finally speaking.]
Rocko: Robbed? …maybe. Stalker could have grown a brain and realized he was barking up the wrong tree… and Stevens could have taken his loss and humility like a man and moved on. But professional wrestling was never a sport for rational-minded people. I was intentionally injured because certain people could not accept the fact that I rose above their expectations and prevailed over everything they threw at me. How can I feel robbed when they failed to take what’s important to me?
Everybody’s always seen me as the man in EPW who’s always bumping his head on the glass ceiling. I think back on all the time I’ve spent in Empire Pro, and I can’t help but think that I’ve been the federation’s resident “unlucky one.” Had the referee been just a bit more observant back at Aggression oh-one in the nation’s capital… I would have won my debut match against Christian Sands. Had the EPW management at the time not been so gung-ho on pushing a man that wasn’t as committed as they thought he would be, as was the case with Maelstrom… I probably could have had an effect on the earliest EPW title scene. Had I not got into it with said management, well hell… I probably wouldn’t have missed out on all those years. Had some gangster wannabe actually known how to safely throw himself from the top of a twenty foot steel cage in the recent KotC tournament… I probably could have gone on to take that title at Russian Roulette, the way I wanted to, and I could’ve avoided this completely.
Now here I am, sitting at home without MY title and unable to compete. I should feel cheated, Mojo, but honestly… it’s to be expected at this point. The entire professional wrestling community has long looked at me as always being in the right place at the wrong time, and I guess forfeiting over a title only coincides with their expectations.
But what do I have to regret? I was determined as hell to prove everybody wrong… and I did just that. I outlasted Kin Hiroshi and JA… and went on to pin the very man who many believed I would NEVER pin. And, through the whole ordeal, I managed to lift the spirits of the EPW fans and inspired millions of others out there trying to break through their own glass ceilings that hard work and determination truly CAN pay off.
That was my goal from the onset, Mojo… just to prove that I COULD do it. I may not go down in history as EPW’s most prolific World Champion… and I may not have the longest title reign… and I may not be remembered fifty years from now as a legitimate professional wrestling champion, but I could care less. Winning that title at Black Dawn was more than just putting the belt around my waist; it was fulfilling a decade-long ambition of defining myself as the very model of a superior professional wrestler. Years from now, people will forget I ever carried that title… but that doesn’t matter to me. Even if I NEVER win that title back, knowing that just once, I prevailed over all odds and at one time stood at the very peak of the professional wrestling mountain… I can say beyond a doubt that the fire that’s burned inside me all these years has been put to rest. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and that’s all I’ve ever fought for. And I can die with a smile on my face knowing that there isn’t a window high enough I can be thrown from for anybody to dispute that.
Mojo!: That’s… very inspiring to hear, Rocko. It’s good to hear that you’ve come to terms with your loss. But now I have to wonder, what are your thoughts on Stalker and Stevens? Do you still harbor ill feelings? Will you seek vengeance once you’re able to?
[Daymon stiffens up slightly, and takes another drink.]
Rocko: …too soon to tell, Mojo. I may be at peace with the lot I’ve been dealt with right now, but it doesn’t mean Stevens and Stalker are entirely off the hook. Believe me, Mojo… “ill feelings” doesn’t do it justice. Why, I can assure you, the only thing that prevented me from strangling the life out of Sean Stevens there in the ring as I threw the belt at his feet was knowing he wouldn’t FEEL enough of it with my good hand being the way it is at present.
However… karma can sometimes be a beautiful thing. Stevens thought that putting me on the shelf would be a free pass to putting that belt around his waist… but it didn’t work.
Mojo!: You’re right. The World Champion is now Jerichoholic Anonymous!
[Daymon nods.]
Rocko: I know ol’ JA never really cared for me… but that’s okay. The fans love him, and he’s undeniably a great talent. Now he’s the standard-bearer of Empire Pro, and I couldn’t think of a better person to fill those shoes with me sitting at home. I have to admit, I felt that justice had been served when JA won that title… even if the man could give two ****s about me.
Mojo!: So… what’s next for Rocko Daymon at this point?
[Daymon shrugs.]
Rocko: Dunno, Moj.
Mojo!: Well… when can we expect you back in the ring?
Rocko: Once again, I dunno. There’s no definite timeline on when my arm will heal up. On top of that, there’s also the question as to whether or not I WANT to come back…
[Massey is noticeably taken aback.]
Mojo!: You mean… you’re considering retiring?
[Again, Rocko shrugs.]
Rocko: Nothing’s definite at this point, Mojo. But in the past few months, I’ve had all the time in the world to sit here and think without distraction. I’ve reflected on the decade of my career, and what I’ve accomplished… and honestly, I’d be satisfied leaving my legacy the way it is. It may not be the greatest the world has ever known, but it’s good enough for me, and that’s all that matters.
On top of that, I’ve been thinking a lot on how much I’ve missed out on time I could have spent with my family, but instead dedicated to furthering myself in the ring. Now I can spend a little more time with them… with my kids, especially.
Who knows, Mojo? Maybe by the time my arm is good to go again, I’d rather be the family man I sometimes feel I should be instead of the man who goes into that ring night after night and punishes his body for almost nothing to show for it.
Mojo!: Maybe… but I feel that would disappoint a lot of your fans.
[The former champion nods.]
Rocko: That may be, Mojo… but they just have to understand that I have to be a human being before I can be a hero. From this point on, though… the sky’s the limit, and the road ahead of me branches off into many paths. If I don’t return… I only hope the fans remember me for a while, and remember the emotion and courage I fought with as I took the title.
But if I decide to come back…
[He smiles.]
Rocko: …you can bet your ass there will be hell to pay.
Mojo!: Well Rocko, where you go from here on out is a decision only you can make, but I do wish you the best of luck in the future.
Rocko: Thank you, Mojo. I appreciate the blessing. Oh, and when you go back… be sure to tell Neels that shirt makes him look fat.
[The reporter chuckles.]
Mojo!: Will do, Rocko. Thank you for your time.
[We cut back to the team at commentary, Mike Neely now looking a bit flustered.]
MN: W-WHAT?! I can’t believe that bastard just said that!!
DM: Well Neels, I mean, he DOES have a point. That shirt kinda gives off this jelly-roll effect.
MN: Oh, whatever! I’m not going to take criticism from some maimed punk who has his own crappy taste in fashion! What’s with those stupid flower shirts?! I mean, how can they even COMPETE with this shirt! I pick up a TON of chicks in this shirt!
DM: Yeah, chicks named Dan and Gary and Steve…
MN: Oh, you can go right to hell, Dean…
DM: You can bet your ass I’ll be two steps behind you.
DT: Well, those were some very deep words from the former champion. It seems as though he has a hazy future in the professional wrestling world, even deliberating the possibility of retirement. Though he’s come to grips with his untimely and unfortunate loss of the World Heavyweight Title, I can’t help but think he’ll want to seek some form of vengeance once he’s able to.
MN: Hey, HEY!! Why the hell are we still talking about this guy?! Rocko Daymon’s at home, drinking beer, slapping Caitlyn around, and that’s all there is to that. He’s a thing of the past, and we’re in the present, and at PRESENT, we have a show to call! So on with the show!
DT: Alright… let’s go to commercial....
MN: Hey, you ruined my call!!
DM: It sucked anyway....
EPW Television Championship
Fusenshoff (c) vs. Ice Tre
MN: ……but of course, that was before I knew she had webbed feet.
DM: Um, we’re back on the air, Neely.
DT: Well, as fascinating as that story was we have a bout for the Television Title once again.
DM: Fusenshoff and Ice Tre had an ugly promo week Mike. Fusenshoff made a grave mistake in forgetting which event we are up to, not once but twice. A slip of the tongue is one thing but...
MN: The guy is a sloppy, boozed up lummox and an embarrassment to our prestigious Television Title. He's about as charismatic as a news anchor with narcolepsy.
DM: Well we all know how charismatic Ice Tre is. He's fun, exciting, vivacious and would represent EPW as the Television Champion better than anyone in my humble opinion.
MN: Yeah, right. Just as soon as he learns how to wrestle.
DT: These two men will square off in just a moment. Allow me to pass it along to Tony Fatora.
"Bad as Can" by BEETLEJUICE suddenly bumps through the PA system, the crowd rises to their feet in anticipation, and the curtain parts. It is Ice Tre ... and DAMN is he a sight!?! Dressed in a bedazzled blue/white ring coat, no shirt, and blue tights, Ice Tre trots down the aisle, brimming with confidence and all-smiles. Tonight is the night.
He slaps the hands of fans along his way to ringside, awkwardly sliding under the bottom rope and into the ring. Raising a fist, he snaps his bulky shades from his face and glares into the camera with his version of "menace".
TF: Standing five feet ten inches tall and weighing one-hundred seventy one pounds, from The Mean Streets... the self-proclaimed KINNNNGGG OF THE RINNGGGG..... ICCCCCCCCCEE TREEEEEEEEE!!!!!
MN: Ice Tre looking as ridiculous as ever Dean.
DM: You don't look at his gear or chains to get a look at the true Ice Tre.. You look into his eyes. You'll see a fierce man with character and a resilience that is unquestioned in this sport.
MN: Do you spend a lot of time staring longingly into Ice Tre's eyes Dean?
DM: No.... by sa.... SHUT UP!
MN: Awww, that's sweeeet.
DM: I said SHUT UP MIKE.
“A Little Less Conversation, a little more action please.
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me.
A little more bite and a little less bark,
A little more fight and a little less spark.
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me.”
“A little Less Conversation” by Elvis Presley hits as there are a few more cheers than boos from the fans. Fusenshoff steps out to no fireworks or fancy lights. His black, long hair is matted and he's wearing his typical ring attire. Black jeans over-top his wrestling shorts and a wife-beater underneath a black leather jacket. Black wrestling boots are the only indication he has a match tonight.
The look in Fusenshoff's eyes is something the fans have grown accustomed to. Rarely is such focus and concentration evident in an age of constant distraction and blatant attempts through media and advertising to hold the public's attention a few short moments. Fusenshoff climbs into the ring as ready as he is the night of all his matches, and yet as ready as he'll ever be.
TF: Hailing from Kamloops, British Columbia. At six foot three and two-hundred sixty three pounds. Your current TELEVISSSSSIOONNNN CHAMMMMMPIONNNNNNNN.... FUUUUUUUUSENNNSHOFFFFF!!!
MN: It amazes me how this drunken buffoon manages to make it to these events, let alone show up seemingly sober and more determined than Roseanne Barr at an Old Country Buffet.
DM: Few realize that the day of a match Fusenshoff shows up completely sober. He chooses not to drink on these days because he doesn't need to escape his own reality while in the ring.
DT: And there's the bell. The two men circle each other in the ring. After a few moments, Ice Tre bounces off the ropes and runs toward Fuse. Tre attempts a clothesline but it is reversed by Fusenshoff. He applies a reverse armbar, but Ice Tre's right foot is on the ropes. Referee Andrew Gardell breaks the hold and Fusenshoff is quick to relinquish it.
DM: You can see the inexperience there for Fusenshoff. He's been a wrestler for less than two years. Facing a much smaller opponent, he whipped Tre around too quickly on that armbar allowing Tre to get his foot to the ropes. He has ridiculous athleticism and focus, but needs work on his execution.
MN: You never know Dean. Maybe some of that greasy, disgusting, never-washed, grungy hair got in his eyes and he blew the maneuver. Whatever it was all I know is I can smell that booze-hound from over here.
DT: Back to the action and Fusenshoff has Ice Tre lined up for... a snap suplex. Fusenshoff performs that move flawlessly and Ice Tre is holding his lower back. After a few stomps to the shoulder Fusenshoff picks Tre up again. He whips Tre into the ropes and Ice Tre ducks a clothesline.. Tre comes back with a missile dropkick on Fusenshoff.
DM: Check that out. Tre pulled off a nice missile dropkick there. It looks like his wrestling skills are starting to improve.
MN: Are you kidding me? He should change his name to Ice “Backyard” Tre. The guy couldn't land a frog splash on a sleeping koala bear.
DM: Wow, Mike. You have to be one of the most negative people I've met in my life.
MN: Aw shucks, Dean. You always know the right thing to say.
DM: ...
DT: Anyway, Fusenshoff is down and Ice Tre goes for the pin. He barely gets a one count before Fuse pops out of it. Both men are up now and exchanging blows. Fusenshoff overpowers Tre and corners him. Fuse grabs the self-proclaimed king and bashes his head into the turnbuckle. Tre wobbles and Fuse takes the opportunity to land a swinging neckbreaker. Fuse goes for the pin.
1 ...
2 .. kickout!
DM: It takes a helluvalot more than that to keep Ice Tre down.
MN: Yeah, we know Dean. He has a lot of heart and yada yada yada. Do you have to mention that every single time he has a match? It's getting a little repetitive.
DM: Whatever Mike.
DT: Fuse picks up Tre who jumps up with a fury.. He catches Fusenshoff off guard with a flurry of punches. He whips the big man into the ropes and lands a nice drop toe-hold. And there's Stalker. Some of us knew it was only a matter of time before he'd run out here again.
MN: Thank GOD! Now things are actually getting interesting! [breaks into song] Here he comes to save the DAAAAAYY!!
DT: And Stalker slides in to go after Fusenshoff. Gardell looks poised to call the match. After that match alongside Nakita earlier tonight, and what happened because of Lindsay Troy rebuffing his “Stalker Rules” stipulation, you know he’s pissed.
DM: This is such garbage. Ice Tre gets a shot at the TV title, and just like last week, Stalker comes in to interfere and blows the title shot.
DT: Not if Ice Tre has anything to say about it! Tre just grabbed Referee Gardell and DDT'd him in the middle of the ring! Smart thinking by Tre, even if it'll probably cost him a hefty fine. The referee is out cold and the match continues.
DM: Wow, what quick, smart thinking by Tre!
MN: Yeah, that was pretty sweet! Maybe there's hope for Tre yet.
DT: Meanwhile Stalker and Fusenshoff are going at it like rabid hyenas in the ring. Fusenshoff is pounding on Stalker, though his temperament hasn't seemed to change.
DM: I'm telling you, he's always even keel in the ring. Though part of him probably wants to go ape-crap on Stalker right now, his emotions don't get in the way of his focus.
DT: Stalker is taking the brunt of the attack. He's down on one knee and taking heavy rights to the face. Ice Tre is taking this time to watch gleefully and occasionally flare up the crowd with his charismatic taunts.
DM: Tre is letting the two other men in the ring fight this one out while the referee is unconscious. He's catching his breath and getting the crowd on his side. Good strategy.
MN: I don't think Stalker was prepared for this. I think he expected the match to be over by now.
DT: Stalker takes a few more rights from the TV Champ... oooh, low blow. Stalker saw an opening and just introduced Fuse's testicles to his appendix. Fuse keels over in pain. Stalker stomps violently on Fusenshoff with rage in his eyes . Stalker picks up Fuse and signals for a powerbomb. He gets Fuse up on his shoulders, but Fuse grabs Stalker by his hair and holds on like Stalker's a bucking bronco. Pulling Stalker's head back, Fuse punches him a couple times and Stalker falls backward, unable to keep his balance.
DM: Wow, there's something you don't see everyday. Fuse grabs a handful of Stalker's hair to avoid going for a ride.. Fuse sees a window and lands a few punches. Next thing you know Stalker loses his balance and they both fall to the mat.
MN: Yeah Dean, Dave just said that.
DM: I'm just saying... that was pretty sweet.
MN: So just say, 'that was pretty sweet.' That kind of circumlocution can get a commentator fired.
DM: Well Sooorrrrry. Isn’t five syllables about three past your vocabulary allotment, Neely?
DT: Stalker is dazed on the ground and Fuse looks to jump on his adversary's misstep. He picks up Stalker and sets up for the Domination. Fusenshoff lands his patented finisher.
MN: Damn that looks painful. The way he leaves guys landing on their necks.
DM: Yeah there's no getting up from that move if he pulls it off correctly. The trick is doing it right. It's a tough one to pull off and this guy's a spring chicken. He got it right that time though. Stalker is toast.
DT: Andrew is getting to his feet. While Fusenshoff was laying Stalker out with the Domination, Ice Tre was waking up the referee. A split second after the move, Tre is right behind the Television Champion. He rolls up the Champ in the middle of the ring!!
1 ...
2 ...
3!!!
DT: And WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!!! ICE TRE IS YOUR NEW TELEVISION CHAMP!!! Talk about a brilliant strategy to pick up the win!
DM: I don't know if Ice Tre planned this whole thing or not. He researched his opponent and undoubtedly knew Stalker was likely to interfere. The way he took out the ref before he could be disqualified was brilliant. He waited in the wings and found his opportunity, then capitalized flawlessly. Improvised or not, that was strategic genius Bill Belichick would be proud of. And now he's the TV champ!
MN: I'm a big fan of good strategy, but couldn't he have thrown in a chair show or a low blow for good measure. What's the point of pulling off a great plan without being devious or iniquitous. Hopefully he learned a thing or two from Stalker tonight. With those brains he could be a great heel some day.
DM: Maybe Craig Miles can get him enrolled inthe Academy.
MN: What does he have to do to get a spot??
DM: You don't wanna know.....
NEXT