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ROLEPLAY NUMBER:
006
- RECORD:
005
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000
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000
NEXT MATCH: vs. Chris Benoit |
World Warrior Semi-finals | World Warrior
TITLE:
Enter Sandman
SGW ACHIEVEMENTS: Gold Of The Week [1x]
PAST ACHIEVEMENTS: APW:
Television Champion [1x], Successfully Defend TV Title
[First Ever], Ring Of Dreams Epic Elimination Finalist
[1x], World Heavyweight Champion [Longest
Reign], Successfully Defend World Title [First
Ever], CWF: Tag Team Champion [2x],
Hardcore Champion [2x], United States Champion
[First Ever], World Championship Tournament Finalist
[1x] CWE: Television Champion
[First Ever] RW: Premier Champion
[1x], Double Jeopardy Participant [1x]
ECW: Tag Team Champion [Only]
MIKE .. FN .. ADKINS
Fade Up SGW Logo
[[
Jesus, it's hard
being the best. ]]
[[
Our screen fades up
immediately filled by a familiar chiseled body. A body of art, per say.
Hell, let's be honest, this physique... is a goddamned Masterpiece. We
zoom out a little. ]]
[[
I hope you weren't expecting Benoit. ]]
[[
Of course it's Chris Masters, and along side with
him is Jackie and Heyman. They're all three sitting in, I guess, the
Masters Mobile. The city speeding past you outside the rolled down windows. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Where the hell are we going?
Chris Masters: If
I wanted you to know, you'd know.
Paul
Heyman: The last time you said that
we ended up in Mexico destroying Chavo's house.
Chris Masters: Yep.
[[
Jackie gets a little startled. ]]
Jackie Gayda: We're
not going back, are we?
Chris Masters: Hell
no. I beat the best Mexico has. I'm done with that country. It's not good
for anything besides an easy win or two.
Jackie Gayda: Then
where are we going.
[[
Aggravated, he answers. ]]
Chris Masters: I'm
going to train.
[[
GASPZ~! ]]
Paul
Heyman: You, train? You've never
done that before. Chris, are you sure?
Chris Masters: Paul,
at World Warrior, I'm dealing with a whole new kind of beast. One that I've
never encountered until now. And well, since winning is my only option,
I've got to prepare.
Paul
Heyman: There's no such thing as an
SGW superstar Chris Masters can't defeat. Not even a legend, like Chavo.
Chris Masters: Well,
Chavo was Mexican, that's the worst kind of legend you can get. But this
time, I'm going face to face with, well, a drunk. And no, I'm not saying
he could beat me if I didn't work on my moves a little, but, I wouldn't be
able to completely tear him apart as bad.
Jackie Gayda: Aren't
you forgetting somebody?
Chris Masters: No?
[[
The limousine stops at its destination. ]]
Jackie Gayda: What
about Chris Benoit? You've got to beat him before you have to worry about
Austin. I think you're over-looking him.
Chris Masters: If
he was taller, maybe I wouldn't.
[[
Masters then reaches over Jackie and opens her door. ]]
Chris Masters: Now,
get out, I got work to do. Driver, pop the trunk.
[[
Out of the back window you can see the top of the
trunk rise up, and out steps the infamous Gillberg. Masters kinda nudges Jackie,
and she gets out, him following. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Are you sure you need to
train, Chris? You haven't had to yet, and that includes taking out an SGW
legend.
Chris Masters: Chavo
was like, an honorary legend. If you jobbed hundreds of times since the
first day of SGW, you'd be a "legend" too. But this week. World
Warrior brings me into the ring with, well, have you ever fought a drunk?
Paul
Heyman: No... no I haven't.
Jackie Gayda: Me
either.
Chris Masters: I've
never fought a drunk, I've only had the opportunity to throw him the
Masterlock just about every week since I came to SGW. Never a real match,
just an ass whooping.
[[
He stops, the rest of the pack going closer towards
the door of the big, black, glass building. ]]
Chris Masters: Though,
the match won't be much different. Just he gets a chance to punch me like,
maybe once or something. Still, I've gotta be ready.
[[
He catches back up to them, and Gillberg, and they
walk into the building. It's a wrestling gym kind of thing. Real classy.
Masters walks up to the front desk. ]]
Receptionist: Welcome,
sir, how may I help you?
Chris Masters: The
name's Chris Masters, somebody important is waiting for me.
[[
The ladies eyes widen as she picks up a phone to
dial in something. ]]
...
[[
Chris Masters, seated in a chair, as is Heyman and
Jackie. ]]
[[
Heyman leans over and whispers into Chris' ears. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Where the hell is Gillberg?
Chris Masters: Oh,
I sent him on a mission, don't worry.
[[
Chris focuses his attention to something out of the
frame, and we zoom out, noticing a pen and paper in his hands. ]]
Chris Masters: So,
really, how does it feel to wrestle a drunk guy?
I'ono:
For me, it was nothing pretty. I got banged up,
slung around, drug through dirt. It was really, really bad.
Chris Masters: So,
it was a buried alive match?
I'ono:
If he could've buried me, he would've.
Chris Masters: Any
singles match experience?
I'ono:
Well, yeah, there were times when he wanted to be
single, and we fought, and he punched me, and hurt me. And my ladies.
Chris Masters: Yeah,
those are some big ladies.
I'ono:
And they hurt too. It's almost like they've got
feelings.
[[
We turn around, and you laugh at who it is, and what
she's doing, with, her "ladies". ]]
Chris Masters: What
kind of stuff do I do to train for a match against king drunken monkey?
Debra McMichaels:
Throw beer at him in the ring, he'll stop, pick it up, and you can roll him up for a win.
Chris Masters: Good
idea. Minus the roll up part. I might just put him in ANOTHER Masterlock,
and break every bone from shoulder to shoulder once and for all.
Debra McMichaels:
I'd like that.
[[
A stupid look comes across Chris' face. ]]
Chris Masters: Wouldn't
everybody? Who likes that guy? Not me, and I'm all that matters.
Paul
Heyman: He's an idiot drunk. He's
not suited for wrestling.
Chris Masters: Well,
after this week, he won't have to worry about how well his boots fit, or if he's
too drunk to get into the ring, because I'm going to answer every problem he
has.
Debra McMichaels:
I don't think you can answer ALL of his problems.
Chris Masters: It'd
be my toughest task ever, aside from being the absolute greatest wrestler of
all-time, but, I think I can manage it. Besides, I don't just act this way...
Paul
Heyman: He was BORN this way...
Jackie Gayda: A
Masterpiece.
[[
What a catchy new slogan. Kudos, Adkins. ]]
Chris Masters: And
that's why I'm here. To train.
Debra McMichaels:
You are going to train in a self-defense class?
Chris Masters: You
own the place, right?
[[
She gets a bit cocky. ]]
Debra McMichaels:
Why yes, yes I do.
Chris Masters: Then
hell no. There's a gym across the street.
[[
ZING~! ]]
Chris Masters: I
wouldn't want to be trained by somebody who couldn't beat the guy her own self.
What do you think I am, drunk?
[[
They laugh, Chris gets up, snaps his fingers, and the
rest tag along. He leaves his notepad, with not a single thing written on it.
They walk out into the hallway. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Weren't you supposed to
take notes?
Chris Masters: Paul,
Chris Benoit would take notes. Not I. I yawn at the thought of having to make
Austin tap out AGAIN. It's like a broken record. Except you don't hear the same
few notes over and over, you just keep hearing Austin screaming and tapping out
for weeks on end.
[[
Music to my ears. ]]
Chris Masters: Anyways,
my down syndrome senses are tingling, Gillberg must be done with his mission,
let's head over to that gym.
[[
Gillberg = DUR! ]]
...
[[
We're now inside the gym across the street, and even more so,
inside of the wrestling ring. Masters is standing, in his wonderful red, uhm,
granny panties I guess. ]]
[[
I just copied this first line from the scene above. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Where the hell is Gillberg?
Chris Masters: He
should be here any second with my opponent.
Jackie Gayda: Steve
Austin?
Chris Masters: No.
I made Gillberg search the streets and hand-pick an opponent who would imitate
Austin the most.
[[
Some fireworks explode out of nowhere. Hey, it is Japan,
it could happen. And one of the random Hansen songs begins to play. Gillberg
creeps up behind Masters, awaiting his prodigy. ]]
Chris Masters: Who'd
you pick, Gillberg?
Gillberg:
DRUNK BUM!
Chris Masters: Just
like Austin, eh?
[[
BOOM~! It's.. my god. It's... ]]
[[
SANDMAN. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Wow, I think I'm going to
throw up.
Chris Masters: Wow,
I think I'm going to kick his ass.
[[
Sandman slides into the ring, getting stomped almost
instantly. ]]
Chris Masters: This
is going to be some good training.
[[
Right hand! ]]
Chris Masters: A
drunken, homeless, wife beating, bum.
[[
Big kick! ]]
Chris Masters: Just
like.. STEVE!
[[
Clothesline, no offense from Sandy Man. ]]
Chris Masters: I
quit.
[[
WHAT!? ]]
Chris Masters: Yep.
This is too easy. Jackie, you get in there. Tango with that, that less than
jobber.
[[
She hesitates, but a few hand gestures from the Chuck
Norris equivalent and she slides right in, laughing and she stomps 'the mud hole'
in Sandman. ]]
Paul
Heyman: So, he picks Sandman?
Chris Masters: Yep.
A good choice, slapped some sense right into me.
Paul
Heyman: What you mean?
Chris Masters: I
never needed to train. This 'new type of beast' is nothing more than, well, a
drunken bum. I'm going to have no problems beating all hell out of Stone Cold.
Look, even Jackie's having a field day with him.
Paul
Heyman: That's not Austin though.
Chris Masters: But
they're both the same gimmick. And they both blew chunks in ECW. It's pretty
much the same guy, except Austin hasn't found his hair yet.
Paul
Heyman: Good point.
[[
Chris slides in, stops Jackie's endless 'slap in yo face'
fest. Cue Sarcasm. ]]
Chris Masters: Oh
My Stone Cold, It's Such A Tough Match!
[[
Sandman is now given some time to regroup, Jackie was
really layin' it on him. ]]
Chris Masters: Heyman,
throw me that notepad form the Debra interview.
Paul
Heyman: You left it in her office.
Chris Masters: Paul,
what the hell is your problem? You're my manager. You're supposed to be taking
me under your wing, keeping me from making newbie mistakes. You should've
grabbed that thing.
Paul
Heyman: You said notes were for
Canadians.
[[
Well, Duh. ]]
Chris Masters: Oh
right, of course they are. Benoit's probably got two notebooks full of how I put
Austin in the Masterlock week after week. But, I bet he has none on the proper
ways to tap out to it. The cocky sum'bitch.
[[
He catches himself. ]]
Chris Masters: Whoa,
Christopher! You said sum'bitch, like a redneck, hillbilly, shitfaced drunk bald
guy. What's your problem.
[[
Heyman gives him a 'WTF Are You Doing' look. ]]
Chris Masters: Right,
I only remember one thing from that interview, let's see if that broad was
lying.
[[
Chris throws himself over the top rope, and walks out of
the frame. ]]
Paul
Heyman: Where is he going?
Jackie Gayda: Beats
me.
Paul
Heyman: What if Sandman comes to his
senses?
Jackie Gayda: Meh,
I beat him once, and Chris taught me the Masterlock back in Mexico so, I could
do him in.
[[
Chris comes back, a six-pack in hand. ]]
Chris Masters: Let's
begin Debra's EXAMINATION!
[[
Crack, he pulls one from the rest of the bunch and rolls
it to Sandman's feet, just as expected. Sandman picks it up, and begins
chugging.. ]]
Chris Masters: Haha,
game over, Sandman.
[[
He staggers around a little bit, fakes a Stunner reversal
and WHAM! MASTERLOCK TO STONE COLD SANDMAN AUSTIN. ]]
Chris Masters: HAHA!
Austin, you think you're good? You think you're top notch? Don't talk about
playing with the big dogs, unless you can, and as you can clearly see, you
can't! You never have been able to, never will. The most you've ever done to me
was a sorry excuse for a DDT last week on Shock. But This..
[[
He cranks the Masterlock, making Sandman scream as though
his balls were clamped together. ]]
Chris Masters: This
is a finishing move that will hurt people. That has hurt people. That has hurt
YOU! I know you've been telling the world a load of bullshit when I've got a
month's worth of footage of me tearing you apart in the ring. The Masterlock is
too much for you, or Chris Beyowt, to handle. But, it's not because you guys
suck. Of course, compared to me, one could mistake you as, say, Chavo Guerrero,
but, you two have beaten a lot of people to get where you both are. I'm just so
sorry that Benoit will never make another final round of a tournament in his SGW
career, and that Austin's push is finally coming to an end. Actually, that's not
too bad. Fact is, you won't beat me. Because you won't break the Masterlock.
Hard to explain how I know that, but then again..
It's Hard To Be
A MASTERPIECE
[[
A final tug, and you hear a sickening crack. Sandman's
face goes pale and Chris drops his limp upper body to the mat. ]]
Chris Masters: Heh,
Austin, I hope Debra didn't take your life insurance when she sued your ass.
Paul
Heyman: ZING!
[[
Game over. The line have been drawn.
Masters/Benoit/Austin. One of these three men is leaving World Warrior the
United States Champion, and by the looks of things, Masters is on his A-Game. ]]
Jackie Gayda: What
about Benoit?
Chris Masters: What
about him? He sucks too.
Jackie Gayda: But
you've got to beat him to get to Austin.
Chris Masters: Duh.
[[
Gillberg crawls out of the ring, exorcist style, and
begins picking through Jackie's hair. ]]
Chris Masters: But,
because of his lack of height, teeth, and skill, I'll have no problems going
into the finals. So, why waste my breathe on somebody who sucks as bad as
Benoit?
Jackie Gayda: Better
question, why didn't you beat the shit out of Gillberg instead of taking him in?
[[
She swats him like a fly and he flies off, squealing like
a pig, and goes to hid in the corner. ]]
Chris Masters: I'll
take care of that.
[[
He whips out his cell phone, then black! ]]
...
[[
Still ringside, we see nothing. Masters and his people
are gone, and then you hear a slight gnawing sound. The camera focuses to a
dark corner of the gym, and there he is, Gillberg, still sitting in the corner,
chomping on the injury he suffered from Jackie's fly swat. ]]
Gillberg:
Mmm, RAWRG. RAWRG...
[[
He nibbles a bit more, then stops and looks up, his eyes
wide, scared. ]]
Gillberg:
....?
[[
You hear a few faint steps, almost, like a robot,
smashing through the tiles throughout the gym. None of the lights are on,
except a lone spotlight above the ring. The stomps get louder, you can even
feel the walls shaking, the camera work gets shaky. ]]
Voice:
Master... Ruler...
[[
Gillberg chuckles, gnawing. ]]
Gillberg:
Yeye, Gillberg master. RAWRG.
[[
WHOOSH, BAM! Something big, has just jumped in the ring.
Something you've never seen before. It's huge, it's a person. Gillberg pops up,
and runs over the ring apron, a laser like stare gazing at him. ]]
Voice:
OF.. THE.. WORLD!
Gillberg:
No no no no no. RAWRG!
[[
Gillberg beats his chest and crawls onto the apron, he
slides under the bottom rope, staring the beast in his eyes. Gillberg's jaw
drops, and he turns to stone for an instant. ]]
Gillberg:
Sss.. s. ..ss. sssss... si...
[[
Our camera pans up, and it's as though we're scaling up a
mountain, it takes forever, until we finally see... the monster. ]]
Sid Vicious:
SEEEEEED!!
Gillberg:
RAWRG! R-r-RAWRG! RAWRG!
[[
He beats his chest and gives us a famous Goldberg down
syndrome face. ]]
Gillberg:
RAWRG
[[
He charges.. it's going to be a SPEAR! ]]
[[
How anti-climatic. Nothing like a spear, it's a Gillberg
spear, looks like he humping Sid's leg. ]]
Sid Vicious:
I.. AM THE MASTER.. AND THE RULER.. OF THE WORLD!!
[[
He lifts up his leg, Gillberg humping it still, and
stomps, sending Gillberg flying. ]]
Sid Vicious:
NOBODY.. HUMPS.. THE LEG.. OF THE MASTER... AND THE
RULER.. OF THE WORLD!!
[[
He wraps his pinky finger around Gillberg, tosses him up
onto his massive shoulders. ]]
Sid Vicious:
END!!!
[[
Good god.. ]]
[[
Gillberg is now, beneath the remains of the ring. That
was the biggest power bomb, ever. Sid gets up, laughing, and you see Gillberg's
ghost rise out of the remains, into heaven, RAWRG'ing.
]]
[[
Game. Set. Match. ]]
[[
Cue up SGW logo.
]]
[[
Fade out.
]]
[[ Static. ]]
FALLEN
AT THE FEET OF THE MASTERPIECE: Rhino [1x]
Carlito [1x] Triple H [1x]
Steve Corino [1x] Chavo Guerrero [1x]
Michael Shane [1x]
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