Hell Is Empty...
GWA…what was it about this place that provoked me so much? It only stood for Global Wrestling Alliance….was that really any different than “World Wrestling Entertainment”? Sure, it would be a Flair calling the shots instead of a McMahon, but truly….what was the difference? Both places had signed men like John Cena…Triple H…Randy Orton…even Shawn Michaels. Both places are well respected in the wrestling community…after Flair started signing talent out from under Vince, well, who didn’t see that one coming? I sure as hell did. I knew that slick Ric would play this business just as cut-throat as he had done WCW….maybe a little more-so; to spite WCW. After watching Vince take all of his respected World Championship Wrestling brothers and turn them into sad, sorry jokes….maybe that was why GWA called to me so much. It was my chance to join in on the laughter. It was time to point and down right humiliate the sport….just like the rest of them, only this time, it seemed I was the only one who got the joke. Oh well. Give it some time and then they will truly see what it is the world is chuckling at. I’ve got all the time in the world to wait…..after all, this is my age. My time to come into the light. This company is destined to downward spiral, just like the WWE, if no one dares to intervene. I felt it was only right that I step up first, beat the crowed before rebelling becomes a trend again. This was the first fight of a massive war to come….I would be the first to ‘play the game’…and win. I am Ess Jay Kay….
...The Devil Is Here
Scene 1:: Hard to swallow
Location :: The House...
Status :: On Camera
Though the weather was calming and almost soothing….the mansion was anything but. The white painted walls had started to chip under the lack of maintenance. That must have been why the lawn was bushy as well. The place was empty. The windows were tinted with a shade of dust and the shutters mostly all closed. The pool in the backward hard been drained and some moss now collected in the bottom. This was an empty shell. What was once probably one of the most beautiful homes of the block was now tattered and tossed aside. Forgotten by all who were involved with it. But why? Why hadn’t the retailers gotten rid of this god forsaken place? Turned it around and try to salvage a profit, that’s what they did, wasn’t it? And yet, this place remained untouched. As though it was scared by the ugliness that stained its reputation. The evil that happened was so foul that it stunk up the walls. No god loving person could step foot inside and not get a sick feeling in their stomach.
As the camera crossed the lawn; the viewers couldn’t help but shiver with every creaking step of the porch stairs. It was haunting. The camera man almost seemed to hold his breath as he walked closer and closer to the entrance. ‘He wouldn’t dare’ they though to themselves. This was holy ground…or un-holy ground, if you wanted to get technical. But it was too late. With a few more steps of this suicidal camera man, the fans could finally get a good enough view. The faded red front door was open. Some one had beat them to it. This place of horrors had been defiled….at once all the mature viewers understood. This was why they were hear. Why the camera man had come. Some one had kicked in the front door of hell….and he wanted an audience to come see.
The Overdose audience was normally so vocal, but not now. They were silent; horrorstruck was more like it. Over the passing years wrestling fans had come to know the outside of this home well. It was every news channel and paper tabloid known to man.Well, everything accept the world of professional wrestling. They refused to speak of it. To them one of their own had defaced them all by becoming a demon….they would never speak his name again because of it. And yet, hear they were. About to walk into the home of a psychopath. A man they use to all love. A man that they all now, somehow, still feared.
Why did the ignorant cameraman keep walking? Whoever was sick enough to set foot in this place obviously didn’t deserve the honors of being seen on television. This was only giving the sick fuck what he wanted. And still…they camera man kept walking. Past the front door and into house. Like the curiosity of the world was shoving him, though no one would dare admit it.
It was chilling to be in the Overdose crowed again as they looked, lost in the empty home. A long stretch of hallway lead to a shut door. Underneath the door a light flickered. They all knew where they were going. But why did the hall have to be so long or the door so far away? Wasn’t it enough that everyone’s stomachs dropped out at the front door? But still the camera man went on. This was his job and he would stay loyal until the end…the bitter end, if all goes ugly.
The fans all held their breath as the camera strolled along, occasionally taking a glimpse at a unwashed, empty kitchen or a library that has only a few, neglected books on their shelves. Things the movers never bothered with. Things that would no longer have any meaning to anyone. It was a sad journey to make, through this living house of horrors. But the light was at the end of the tunnel and growing closer with every step. Soon this would be over. Soon the titantron would flicker into some happy video clip of John Cena giving the bad guy an F-U. The fans would be allowed to cheer again, no longer haunted by professional wrestling’s dirty litter secret. It would all soon be over…just a little longer.
Finally they had reached the end of the hall where a shabby wooden door stood between them and the light. It was open only a crack, just enough to give the camera a sneak peak. Again the stomachs of fans dropped as they seen the set of stairs. The light was coming from below…in the dungeon. This was too much.
Some teenage fans started to boo and throw things at the screen. Some little children hid their faces in the sleeves and chests of their parents. But for those who were mature enough to truly be afraid…they couldn’t look away. Down and down they went. The light only getting brighter.
It was almost over they reminded themselves.
Thunderous step after thunderous step lead the cameraman further down the throat, into the stomach of this man-made monster. The house that hell swallowed and spat back out. Was the flickering light fire? Had they truly come down to hell? No. It couldn’t be…
The staircase opened up to a small, square room with paneled walls and a hardwood floor. One singular light bulb hung from a cord in the middle of the room. Below it was a weight bench and a couple of free weights. And on that bench….was a guy…..
They all seemed to gasp at first, uncertain of what they were seeing. For a moment they all just watched on from the safety of the arena as the young man just kept lift. Laying flat on his back with the bench-press firmly above him; a young gentlemen just kept lifting weights….as though none of this bothered him. Like this house belonged to him. Some started to boo again; but it didn’t last long. They were all hooked now. They wanted to know who this intruder was. They felt it was owed to them. They had been forced to look evil in the mouth and now, at last, they would get to know why.
Up….Down…..Up…..Down….Up…..Down….
They all watched on. The tension started to build. Had they been brought to this place to be mocked and ignored? That seemed like a bit of a waste. Suddenly the weights made a metal “CLANG” sound and the bar was on the support once again. A pair of tattooed fists still held onto it as the young man remained on his back for a moment, looking up into the light. The crowed was just about to turn bitter when all of a sudden the young man slid down to the end of the bench and sat up. Giving the camera a wicked smirk.
“It’s about time you all showed up…” the arrogance was bitter sweet in his voice. And so was he, to the eyes.
Sitting in front of the camera was a young man with bright green eyes, long black hair, a stubbly chin and an evil smile that matches the confidence in his voice. A few of the fans started to boo while a coupe of female viewers whistled; clearing having bothered to let their eyes trail away from his face and over his tattooed upper body. It was easy for them to get caught up in the cruel beauty of this individual. In nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans and a Misfits band T-shirt, at first glance you would think he was the lead singer of a punk band. His long hair pulled back with a bandana across his forehead.
But hear he sat on a weight bench in hell….looking the entire audience right in the eyes as he spoke to them; like he could see the face of each, personal individual. His message was that deep…
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: Don’t even bother asking, I can’t hear you….not that I’d want to. No, tonight you, America, are MY viewers tonight. So just take a deep breath, relax, and allow me to do you the honors of answering you two question. Questions that after today you will never have to ask again. First being pretty cut and clear. Who am I?
His eyes light up with a bit of arrogance and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smirk as he spoke.
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: My name is STERLING…JAMES…KEENAN. SJK, for those of you who have add and didn’t make it past the ‘Sterling’ part. But none the less, consider yourselves informed. That name is one that will be etched in your wrestling minds forever now. Deal with it. And the next question, though it isn’t as clean cut, is probably the most important of all. And let me tell you, being more important than my name is one hell of an accomplishment. But it’s true. That question being…. ‘Why am I here?’
This question was the one they all had been waiting for. A sudden burst from the crowed signaled that he had touched a nerve. A chorus of boo’s and ‘SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP!’ chants started to echo from the shit-face college guys who came to watch some blood, guts and gore. Not some new face who decides now would be a good time to spit in the face of Professional Wrestling. This was just too much.
A few paper cups and bags of trash had been thrown at the screen; Sterling’s twitch of a smile had grown into a wicked and devilish smirk. Like he could see all these people who hated him with such passion. He was getting to it, there was no doubt in his mind.
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: The reason I have come to this un-holy house of wrestling shame is to prove a point and teach a lesson. Consider it killing two birds with one stone, if you will. This isn’t something I want to do….it’s something I have to. But before we go any further, take a look around. Truly grasp what it is I am after. Understand what lengths I am willing to go to, to get this point across.
The camera pans around the old, dusty gym for a moment, then returns back to SJK; not wanting to leave him out of sight for too long.
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: I don’t need to give this place a name…but you know what this gym is. No, no….you know WHOSE gym this is. It’s a name you have been forced to swallow and never speak. Some one people want you to forget. And why do you think that is? Because the things he has done are to horrific? That society is too sensitive to believe something that criminally insane and inhuman can happen? For those of you who agree, just stand up and walk the fuck out now! There is no hope for you…..but for the rest of you, the ones who can’t swallow this bullshit; all I ask is that you be willing to open your eyes to the truth of things.
The smirk slowly starts to fade from SJK’s face; replaced by a more serious glair.
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: Ask yourselves….in a world where society can not only publish books and make movies about men who have molested children….soled their bodies for money and drugs….even men who have murdered countless innocent people; men like John Wayne Gacy or Ted Bundy are not only spoken about freely…if all of this is not only acceptable, but considered to be ‘interesting’ by popular culture, then why is just one name banned from being said in the sport of Professional Wrestling? What good reason could they have?
Sterling’s eyes start to gleam with excitement as he stood up from the bench; now walking towards the camera man…
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: It’s not what this man did that made his name a sin, it’s what it meant. What it exposed. You see….up until now the sport of Professional Wrestling has been tainted. Tainted by talent less hacks like John Cena….Batista….Triple H. *SJK pauses for a moment, his cruel smirk returns to his face* lets talk about Triple H for a moment.
SJK rubs his chin, looking down for a moment, looking like a bad kid who was trying to talk his way out of being in trouble with the Professor.
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: For those of you who haven’t bothered to check the back side of your billing cards; I’m not just another strange face showing up on your television screan. I’m actually a wrestler…..one of the few people who can honestly call themselves that. But none the less, that’s what I am. And this week I’ve been given the pleasure of being put up against the sorriest and probably luckiest bastard this sport has even know. “The Game” Triple H….Hunter….Paul, if we want to be honest with ourselves. I say that because unlike the rest of you, I’m not going to let this cloud cover my eyes from who this man really is. He’s not “The King of King’s” or “The Cerebral Assassin” anymore. He’s just Paul. A man who has fears and vulnerabilities! A man who has to ask himself before every single match “Will my quad hold out?”. Or “What happens if I can’t lift my arms up tomorrow? What about my wife and child?”. A man with responsibilities and logic is also a man with fear, and a man with fear doesn’t belong in this sport! Sad but true. The business end of wrestling would like you to think guys like Triple H and Chris Jericho are larger than life….but that isn’t the case. They are all a bunch of frauds. Puppets used to get your money out of your wallets and into their bank accounts. When the lights come on they all come out, do a little song and dance number they have been practicing….then they leave. And when all is said and done, they count their money and hope to god it’s almost enough for them to retire soon….just so they don’t have to look at another fan for as long as they live.
SJK runs his hand through his hair, brushing back a few strands; keeping his black and white bandana clear. He seemed almost relaxed with all of this….
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: I’m only offering you all the truth….you don’t have to swallow it. But I’m still going to give you the choice. And the truth is…the reason no one wants you to talk about “The Crippler” is because he didn’t just destroy his own family….he destroyed a part of this industry. He exposed it for what it was. The current generation….the generation of wrestlers you are being told to respect…to worship…to idolize. They are nothing but a bunch of faults idols. Men and women who at any moment will snap. Their bodies ridged and crumbling with middle age and bill abuse. They are the bastard children of this sport. The ones people like Vince McMahon pump a bunch of roids into and send them out into the world; like his own freak show! Yet you people still adore it! You still pat wrestling politicians like Shawn Michaels and Bret Hart on the back, though they have both continue to disgrace this sport! You go out and buy all the damn John Cena CD’s and ‘rKo’ T-shirts! You have become slaves to these monsters! Puppets belonging to puppets! But no more…..no more.
SJK starts walking towards the camera man again, the devilish look going to his face again…
'The Rockstar From Hell' Sterling James Keenan: I am sick and tired of seeing the next generation….my generation, held down by these tools! It’s bullshit! This week I am being asked to job to Triple H, to put this asshole over and make him look good! Just so you all will buy a couple of T-shirts after the show! Isn’t that just fuckin’ lovely? Well you know what? It’s not gonna’ happen. ‘Ess Jay Kay’ aint goin’ out like that! I’m coming to Overdose this week with a purpose. I am a mercenary of war now. That ring is my battle field. I am a martyr; the first of my age to stand up and fight back. This week it is Triple H…next week, who knows? But if nothing ells….understand this. My name is STERLING…JAMES…KEENAN! And like your fallen idol Chris Benoit….I’m leaving no survivors!
SJK raises his fists to the camera…
For a moment the audience just look into the words. “STAY DOWN”…it seemed to say it all as the show cut to a commercial…
…::XXSTATICXX::…
Scene 2:: Friends or foes
Location :: The Arena
Status :: Off Camera
The limo pulls to a stop just outside the arena, somewhere behind the loading docs. He didn’t want to cause too much trouble…not yet. He was looking to duck the heat of things until after his match. A victory would smooth the impact of his message a little better than a loss would. He had to stay focused on the match to come. This victory was the most crucial….all things to fallow would rely on how well Sterling could perform tonight. A faint smirk came over his lips as he thought about that for a moment.
Like a athletic Rockstar, the crowed would be waiting for him. Eager to love him or rip him apart like animals. The feeling was intoxicating. It was like change was in the air. The revolution people had been promised was on the edge of breaking past the barrier and become a reality. It all would come down to if Sterling was strong enough to carry through with his prediction. He would have to take down one of the oldest and most respected lions in this jungle of a sport. Triple H. The smirk couldn’t help but grow as he tried not to picture himself as some hungry beast…tackling Triple H down and sinking his fangs into the animals leg; making the proud monster limp along momentarily before the blood hungry SJK finally brought him down. As Sterling chuckled at his own little show when he was suddenly brought back out of it…..
‘BEEP-BEEP!’ the driver honked, looking over his shoulder towards the back seat. “Hey buddy, you gettin’ out?” he ask. SJK shook his head for a moment then nodded silently, reaching over as he picked up his gym bag. The driver was just about to ask if he would like to be brought up around the front when Sterling stepped out of the limo; slamming the door so quickly it cut the driver off. Frustrated he pulled away, leaving SJK to show himself around.
The smirk on Sterling’s face slowly started to fade into a grimace as he looked around the lot; skimming the faces of production workers and crew members. There was a small circle of people in GWA tech shirts gathered around a catering table and a few people were pushing camera equipment around….but for the most part, not a person bothered to meet his eyes. They must still be a little sensitive from the promo at the House Show. But if it was an apology they were waiting to hear, they had a better chance of seeing hell freeze over.
Throwing the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder Sterling started walking towards the double doors of the arena. It was now or never. His eyes stayed fixed on the door, though, he could feel all the eyes around him fallow him as he entered the place. He was an unwanted and unwelcome intruder. It was obvious to him. They didn’t want him anywhere near them. Like he was a bomb that might blow at any second.
He had made it into the arena with so much as a ‘hello’ from one of the crew workers. It must be true what they say. Gossip spreads quicker than fire. Great.
Taking a few steps down the hall, his eyes take quick glances around at the locker room doors the littered the hall. Around the serving tables and pop & vending machines names like “The Rock” and “C.M. Punk” stick out. For a moment seeing Punk’s name brought a smirk back to SJK’s face. Punk was one of ‘US’ once. Before the WWE got a hold of him and sucked the personality right out of him. Now he was just another puppet….the smile faded again. This was just another sign that this war was needed. No matter how much people would hate him for starting it.
He was halfway down the hall when he started to hear another set of footsteps in rhythm with his. Stopping when he stopped and picked up when he chose to. Yet every time he looked over his shoulder to address this stalker…he was alone. Creepy. A few of the crew workers looked at him funny after SJK had stopped and spun around so quickly that they had dropped the box of doughnuts they had been carrying.
It was stress getting to him. Nothing ells. But just as Sterling turned to walk down the hall once again…he was hit. A quick flash of black and purple was all he seen before he fell. Catching himself just inches before landing face first into the ground. He could feel a set of knees straddle his waist and a hand lock around the neck of his T-shirt. Whoever it was, was giggling sadistically.
Rolling over onto his side, SJK lay, blinking upward toward Daffney as she sat, her knees buried on his chest. Her free hand twirling around a toy magic wand. Her black, outlined eyes bright with delight as she smiled down at him, her purple lips seeming a little animated as the spoke.
'THE SCREAM QUEEN' Daffney Unger: STEEERRRRLLLLLLING *she screeched* I thought that was you…..
SJK sat up on his elbows, the evil smile on his face.
'The Crimson Idol' Sterling James Keenan: I didn’t know they let the patients control the asylum in this place…..
The sarcasm was blunt in his voice, but Daffney didn’t care. She seemed completely unaware as she suddenly bopped him between the eyes with her wand.
'THE SCREAM QUEEN' Daffney Unger: Poof! You’re a frog! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Suddenly Daffney leaped up to her feet, snatching hold of SJK’s had as she pulled him to his feet as well.
'THE SCREAM QUEEN' Daffney Unger: Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Keenan! I always run the place I’m employed to! This bitch doesn’t quit, baby! Woo!
Daff giggled evilly as SJK rolled his eyes.
'The Crimson Idol' Sterling James Keenan: Whatever you say, love. Whatever you say….so, come to greet me on my first day or simply looking to in-list in my army?
'THE SCREAM QUEEN' Daffney Unger: Your army? Oh….*she blinked, understanding* your fight with the guys up stairs….
'The Crimson Idol' Sterling James Keenan: That’s the one….
Suddenly the child-like playfulness drained from Daffney’s face.
'THE SCREAM QUEEN' Daffney Unger: Hey Sterling…that’s sort of what I came to talk to you about. That whole Benoit business really rubbed some people wrong….
Her voice trailed off as her eyes dropped down to the floor.
'The Crimson Idol' Sterling James Keenan: So what? I get under peoples skin all the time, it’s what we do.
He gives Daff a devilish smirk…only, this time she didn’t return it. His eyes burned for a moment. He understood the silence.
'The Crimson Idol' Sterling James Keenan: Oh…I see. The Flair family is nervous and sent you to talk to me? Nice, Daff. Real nice. Ya know, it’s sad. You use to be one of us. One of the REAL wrestlers in this sport. The ones who busted their asses night in and night out while all the other mindless chumps caught all the free breaks. Hell, I thought you would have been the first person to agree with me! To want to stand up and fight against all the bullshit! What happened to you, Daff? What did these brainwashers do to you?
'THE SCREAM QUEEN' Daffney Unger: It’s not like that, Sterling. It’s just…Triple H is a real monster. He’s going to be looking to hurt you tonight. I don’t want to see that happen…..you shouldn’t take him so lightly.
Daffney bit her bottom lip.
'The Crimson Idol' Sterling James Keenan: No, no, no. Don’t sugar coat it, Daff. The truth is you have just gone soft. Being with a Flair has made you forget how hard it was in this buissness BEFORE you had the world given to you on the string. Back when you were apart of the evolution of this company. It’s survival of the fittest, Daffney, and it’s my job to bring the old and washed up hacks down! That is why the Flair’s sent you to talk to me. They are scared because they are old and washed up. They are on their way to becoming like The McMahon’s. Just as blind and fat! Like it or not there is a war going on in this place….you’ll need to decide whose side you are on, chick. Are you with us….or them?
With that, Sterling starts to walk off, leaving Daffney standing silently. Her eyes were fixed on him, filled with worry and dread. This was her friend…..but this sport was her life. This isn’t an easy choice to make….
..::STATIC::..