RP #2- "Opening the Doors"

[Promo - The Undeniable Words #2, 2/17/08]

As I sit here in the aftermath of my first ever match in PDW, all I have to say is 'veni, vidi, vici'.

I came to my first Disclosure in preparation for my first match with Platinum. I saw my opponent, what he was bringing to the table, and... well, not so much saw, but heard the words backstage, the words by our esteemed announce team about how this would be over pretty damn quick. And in spite of everything that was said and all the odds that were supposedly against me, I conquered. Get used to this, Platinum, because this is something I've been doing for a long time and that I will continue to do both this week and the upcoming weeks.

I suppose some people are going to be making a few... judgments of me based on my actions prior to the match. Namely, removing Heather Phoenix from the equation and making it so that Darkside was forced to come on out and confront me by himself. A lot of people may understand where I'm coming from on that, but there will probably be a few who will form a negative opinion on me based on the fact I locked a girl in a storage closet for a grand total of about fifteen minutes if that. I suppose they're entitled to believe what they want to believe, but given that the topic may be used against me in the upcoming weeks, I feel that it's of absolute, vital importance that I explain why I did what I did.

I did not lock Heather Phoenix in that closet because I have some deep-seated psychological issues, nor did I do it because I wanted to make Darkside sore. I didn't do it out of any feeling a woman shouldn't be at ringside, either. The bottom line is pretty damn simple- I did it because I was put in a position where I couldn't be certain that she wouldn't be sticking her nose in the match, interfering and screwing me over to give Darkside some kind of win. Now, she might have been totally innocent on that front, but Darkside decided to play games with me and be cryptic on just what her role was. Well, Steve Jason doesn't play the mind games. I'm not going to be anybody's patsy, and I'm not going to be played. That simple.

There's your answer. Let this be a lesson to anybody who thinks they're going to try to flaunt some kind of 'ace in the hole' or give me any indication they might have an advantage up their sleeve- if I have any reason to suspect it, I will make every single move to negate it. In other words, you'd better make damn sure that any dirty trick you might have up your sleeve is kept damn secret, or I'll let the air out of your tires. For all I know, Darkside might now be milking some 'oh, I only lost because I was worried' line- well, for that, all I have to say is that you shouldn't have been so rash as to raise concerns in my mind, Zachriel. If I hadn't had reason to suspect foul play, I wouldn't have had to negate it.

Now, I'm not going to spend all night talking about the past, because quite frankly that ain't my focus this week. It looks like I've raised some serious eyebrows with that win backstage, because it looks like the second match I've got is up against a current champion. Sean Williams, current Bloodshed Champion. If the stakes weren't high in my debut matchup, they certainly are now. There's a long, long list of objectives that I have to complete in Platinum Dynasty Wrestling. Some I'll get done right off the bat, others will take months, maybe even years. But one of the goals that I was hoping to accomplish the earliest was a simple one- bring down a champion. That doesn't necessarily mean take his belt, and that won't be an opinion in this match, but simply taking a champ down and pinning him is an important goal for me.

Why? It's simple enough.

I take down the champ, it's made rather clear that I'm not just a one-win success here in PDW. Sure, I beat a fellow debutante, but that means absolutely nothing if I can't start beating some major figures. If the Bloodshed Champion- a man who has to exercise enough ruthlessness to bust a man open to keep his belt- is the next person I beat, that says a hell of a lot about just how serious I am here. And with a Pay Per View already starting to form up, I think it's pretty damn important I have that said as soon as possible.

So for better or for worse, Sean Williams, you're my next target. I imagine you're watching this right now in between preparation for the match, and I imagine that all of a sudden you've dropped what you're doing, your attention has turned to the TV, and you're preparing yourself to hear exactly what it is I have to say. Well, I will not be disappointing you. There's a fair bit I have to say about you.

Seems that I might be fighting somebody a little closer to myself this time around. Darkside was... a somewhat different opponent to me. Bigger. Power-reliant. While Sean Williams, I would say, is somewhat closer to my own size- seems a little lighter, actually. Some would say this'd make him easier to take down, while I'm not so sure. Hell, at least big men can be predictable at times. You know what they specialize in. Whereas Sean as I understand it is like me- an all-rounder who's trained up in a lot of different styles. That's going to make him harder to predict and harder to devise counters around- much like the same will be said for me. I dare say that it might even come down to just who can think the fastest.

Unfortunately for you, Sean, I'm something of an expert at thinking fast.

[MAIN STORY]

DATE/TIME: 9:30PM, Wednesday 6 February, 2008
LOCATION: Diablo's Yacht, on the Delaware River, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

When Steve Jason first received a call from a 'James Augustus Diablo' advising that Steve come and see him as soon as he was free after completing his business for that particular week at Platinum Dynasty Wrestling, he was expecting one of two things.

Either he was expecting to meet Jim Diablo at some opulent private residence on the richer side of Philadelphia for a drink, meal and frank discussion, or alternatively, he was expecting to be invited to some office or place of business to sit down across a desk from Diablo and hammer out whatever it was Diablo wanted of him. Whenever some random stranger called Steve up on the phone and requested he visit them to discuss some kind of 'business', it always turned out that way. Which is why Steve was more than a little surprised to have finally found out somewhat less than twenty minutes before leaving his apartment that Diablo had something completely different in mind.

That 'something different' turned out to be a seafaring vessel floating on the Delaware River. And not a small one, either.

Steve stood at the foot of a grassy bank on the very edge of the Delaware River. It was fairly well into the night now, but Steve had no shortage of light- firstly from the pale moonlight bearing down from the inky sky above. Secondly from the twinkling lights of the various buildings of Philadelphia itself, which was not too far from where Steve was right now. And thirdly- and far more importantly- the major source of light was actually coming from the large yacht which was anchored just off the bank Steve was in front of him. It was a long, silvery-white vessel, poking a good twelve feet out of the water. Judging by the portholes in the side, it seemed to have its own below-deck area, although most of the activity seemed to be coming from above deck. Steve could hear laughing and talking coming from the top, and the faint thud of music could be heard coming from it. There was also a ramp at the back which was lowered- no doubt for Steve himself.

Well, he was here, and there was no real point putting it off. Steve took one look around, adjusted the gray sportscoat he was wearing over the black dress shirt and matching gray suit pants, then walked over towards the metallic ramp, ascending it and stepping out onto the deck.

Obviously, Diablo was throwing a bit of a party by the look of things. The music became distinctly louder when Steve was on the deck, and seemed to be retro 80s pop-rock. Steve didn't know the exact artist or the song, but it definitely had that generic feel to it. A relatively decent crowd of people were on the polished deck- maybe thirty or so. Refreshment tables were set up with a fairly good selection of expensive beers and wines, and trays with rather generic miniature sandwiches were being passed around by black-and-white-clad waiters. Before Steve could get any further, however, his ice-blue eyes immediately picked up movement out the corner of his eye. He turned and sure enough, he noticed two people gradually approaching him.

A man and a woman. The man looked to be around Steve's own age- early thirties- and was clad in a black turtleneck over which he wore a beige suit jacket and pants. He was somewhat average-sized but quite stocky and broad over the shoulders, and his head was buzzed over with what must have been a number-two razor, leaving very short hair over his head. His eyes were dark, and an ominous scar ran just next to his right eye down his face.

The woman was a somewhat more graceful figure than her straight-up intimidating friend. She looked young-ish- maybe mid twenties or so- and quite tall for a woman, about five-ten and quite slender, although she had some rather noticeable curves in what most men would call the 'right places', and tanned skin to go with it- not that ridiculous 'I've spent far too long in the sun' tan, but an almost-perfect, golden glowing tan. Dark eyes peered up at him as she got closer underneath a head of light brown hair that was pulled back into an elaborate, probably-expensive pinned back style that had two curls cascading down her face and onto her shoulder. She was clad in a short, golden dress that once again must have broken the bank in half that clung to her figure and showed off her attributes.

"Are you SJ?" The man's voice was definitely not American, Steve knew that right off the bat. This man's voice, rather coarse and rough, was instead Eastern European by the sound of it. Possibly Russian, although that might have just been a stereotypical link.

"That'd be right." was all Steve had to say, inclining his head politely.

"I told you..." the woman almost purred smugly at the man. Similarly, her accent wasn't from any Anglo country Steve knew about, although he had a harder time placing it than the man's. Wherever she was from, Steve wasn't too familiar with it.

"Yeah, yeah, alright..." the other man muttered gruffly before turning back to Steve, "My name is Sergei, and this is Chanah. We're associates of Mr. Diablo."

"Is that so? You look a bit... different from the usual flunkies, I'll say that much."

"Should we take that as a compliment?" Chanah's voice had a distinct tone of amusement in it, the edges of her mouth quirking up into a slight grin as her dark eyes sparkled.

"You can take it as whatever you want," Steve replied enigmatically, "But it's obvious old Jim sent you up here for a reason. What's going on?"

"Mr. Diablo sent us here to meet you as soon as you got on board the boat," Sergei replied in a matter of fact tone, "He's been looking forward to your arrival and is just entertaining some of the other guests."

"But he did want to see you as soon as you arrived." Chanah added, "So let's not waste any more time, shall we?

"Sounds fair to me." Steve shrugged.

Asides from Chanah and Sergei, the rest of the crowd were rather... upper-crust by the look of it. Tuxedos of black and white, expensive business suits, and tailor-made, expensive-looking dresses adorned the vast majority of the people in his way, sipping from ridiculously-expensive champagne and discussing topics that would have made Steve's head spin. He gritted his teeth and kept close to Sergei and Chanah as they circumnavigated the crowd of people and reached the center of the deck, where a simple wooden table and chairs had been set up. Standing in front of the table, talking with a well-dressed gentleman, was none other than who Steve had to assume was Jim Diablo himself.

Diablo was somewhat tall for a man, about an inch shorter than Steve himself. His slicked-back hair was gray, and while his face wasn't ravaged by old age, it was obvious from the wrinkles and lines that he was in his late fifties, possible early sixties. A white Southern-style suit, complete with the buffalo-skull necktie around the collar of the shirt, concealed his body, matched by white boots. As he saw the three approach, his brows rose in acknowledgement while he continued to talk with the other man.

"He should only be a minute..." Chanah informed Steve.

"In the meantime, I'm afraid we have other things we need to be doing." Sergei replied, nodding politely to Steve, "It was good to meet you at last, Mr. Jason."

"Likewise. Thanks for your help."

"See you later..." Chanah farewelled him pleasantly before she and Sergei both stepped back towards the thick crowd of people. True to her word, Diablo appeared to be finishing up the conversation with the other man, and with a sudden laugh, the other man stepped away, leaving Steve alone with the man he'd been summoned to meet.

"Ah, Steve Jason! I'm glad to see you've finally arrived, son." Diablo stepped forward as he spoke in his gravelly Southern-accented voice, offering a firm hand out to Steve, who shook it in an equally firm grip.

"Took me a while to find the boat," Steve half-apologised, "Looks like I made it up on time, though."

"Only just..." Diablo chuckled. As if on cue, a sudden clanking sound could be heard, and the floor under Steve shifted the slightest bit as the boat began drifting, now free of its resting place on the side of the bank. As the boat moved, Diablo took a couple of steps over towards the table he had been standing in front of, pulling out a chair both in front of it and behind it, "Take a seat, please."

Steve obliged, taking a couple of steps towards the closest chair and sat down as Diablo echoed his movements on the other chair, "Alright, Jim. You've called me up and I'm here. You wanna tell me what this is all about?"

"I will indeed, son. As you no doubt know, I've been watching you for a while now. Steven Alexander Jason. Born September 9, 1977, in Sorrento, western Australia. Grew up in the same areas. Left to go to Japan in 1996. From there worked your way through Eastern Asia, Europe, Mexico, Canada and finally the United States. You lived exclusively in Los Angeles and Las Vegas for the past few years until midway through last year, where until a few weeks ago you lived in Sydney, Australia. Am I correct?"

"You've done your homework." was Steve's only answer.

"I pride myself on knowing the people I want to work with. Now, you're well known in the western United States. But I can't say the same for Philadelphia. Nobody knows you- well, not really. A few wrestling nuts, maybe, but that's it. You're not like some of your other roster members, who everyone knows and who has all sorts of doors opened for them."

"What's your point?"

"You're gonna need some connections, son. Right now you have none. You're a nobody. If you're ever gonna progress and make a real mark here in Philadelphia, you've gotta get those doors open. It'll help your wrestling career and it'll help your life here. I can open any door in Philadelphia for you, if you give me the...."

"Yeah, see, that's part of the problem right there." Steve bluntly cut Diablo off, his calm yet firm voice cutting straight over the top of the louder man, "I did the whole 'having doors opened for me' thing back on the West Coast. Believe me, I did. In fact, I wouldn't so much call them 'doors' as I would 'floodgates'. I can't even take a step out on the streets of Los Angeles now because somebody will know who I am. I can't show my face in Hollywood because someone, somewhere is going to want something from me. I can't last fifteen seconds in California without somebody pulling me aside, wanting me to work for them, having a side-project they want me working on, I've even had a few spontaneous marriage proposals, for God's sake."

"I'm getting the distinct feeling that you don't exactly appreciate such things..." Diablo replied dubiously.

"To put it quite frankly, Diablo, one of the reasons I'm here in Philadelphia is because I wanted to get away from that. I don't have to deal with that crap on the East Coast. I can take a walk down the street without someone wanting something or somebody pushing me into some gigantic idea they have. Sure, I'm a wrestler and I'll be recognized by some people, I accept that, but it's not as god-damned over-the-head as it was in LA and Vegas. So let me ask you this..." Steve paused for dramatic effect, going eye-to-eye with Jim, then continued in a matter-of-fact, laconic tone of voice, "Why in the world would I want to willingly expose myself to that?"

"You're thinking of it in black and white, son. You seem to assume that you're either unknown by everybody, or you're a megastar who has the world handed to you on the basis of your name. It doesn't have to be either. Now, you can claim that you like to be a self-made man who does everything on your own back, but it's gonna be a hard journey. There might be times in the future where you need help from someone, or where you need someone's services. I can get you them. And I can do it without turning you back into the great hero you were over West."

"And what's in it for you?" Steve's voice was overlaid with suspicion as he eyed Diablo carefully, "To put it quite frankly, Diablo, you don't pull off the philanthropist very well. Maybe it's the effect man who's got 'Diablo' as his last name, maybe it's how you're coming across, but I doubt you're going to give something for nothing. What do you want me to do?"

"I run a lot of businesses, son." Diablo answered, steepling his hands together, "Philadelphia's my base of operations nowadays, but I've got some enterprises down south that I might want your help with. Are you familiar with the concept of symbiosis?"

"I spent most of my senior biology class being star-struck by the hottest girl in school, who I happened to have a colossal crush on..." Steve smirked, "But I did at least pay attention to that concept. Two different organisms provide mutual benefits to each other."

"That's what I'm talking about. I'm not demanding a cash sum. And I'm not with the mob, so I'm not going to ask you to kill somebody for me down the road. But there are certain business opportunities in the future you may be able to help me with. Particularly if you do well in PDW. If I do open the doors, I'd like you to help out should you have the opportunity. That's all I ask. And no..." A sudden sharp laugh escaped Diablo, "Contrary to my name, I'm not actually the Devil in disguise. This isn't some trick to get a hold of your soul."

"Good. Someone actually nearly corrupted that thing once, it was rather unpleasant for all involved, especially him when I finally got my hands on him." was Steve's casual reply, "Well, I'm not sure, Jim. Not really sure at the moment."

"That's OK, son, I'm not asking for a decision right now. And I'd rather have you on side after actually thinking about the decision rather than doing it right away. So what I suggest you do is enjoy yourself here for a while, spend some time in Philadelphia on your own, concentrate on your match, and speak to me again once you've made up your mind. In the meantime, what I can do is put you in contact with my... associates should you want to know more."

"Which associates? The ones from before? The Russian and the... uh... European girl?"

"Chanah is Israeli. And yes, those are who I'm talking about. See them in the upcoming days. Odds are you may be getting to know them quite well if you choose my friendship, so that may help you make up your mind. Think about it though, will you?"

"Always do." Steve answered.

"Excellent." Diablo rose up from his chair and offered out his hand once again while speaking, "Well, son, that's all I wanted to talk to you about. Thank you for coming with such little information and for hearing me out. As I said, it's entirely your decision on this and I encourage you to think it through strongly. It might be a little while before we return to the part of the river where your car is parked, so feel free to explore the deck, perhaps have a drink, and enjoy the sights of the city from the river. I'll talk to you soon, I hope."

"You will." As if to emphasize that point, Steve gripped Diablo's hand in another firm handshake, then rose and turned away from the table. He cast a cool gaze over the rest of the deck and its upper-crust partygoers, then immediately decided against engaging in any form of conversation with them. He certainly didn't want to be bored out of his brain with superficial discussions for the rest of the night. And so it was that he made his way over towards the side-railing of the boat, gripping onto the edge with his hands and staring out over the long stretches of bushes and trees that lined the banks of the river.

Well, Diablo made an interesting case, Steve had to give him that. While he was still adamant on standing on his own two feet and not succumbing to the star treatment that had driven him so insane in California, at the same time being entirely on your own with no connections in a strange city would be a very hard thing to do. Not impossible of course, but inevitably connections would have to be made, people would have to be met and doors would have to be opened. As it so happened, Diablo claimed to be able to help Steve do it. And it didn't sound like he wanted all that much in return. Helping out on a few business ventures, it couldn't have been that bad... could it?

But at the same time... Steve was making progress on his own two feet in PDW. Without an agent to support him, he'd still managed to land himself a shot at a champion, albeit a non-title one. That was a major step, and it just could have been that Steve was capable of doing on his own what Diablo claimed to be able to help him to do. And Steve was a man who preferred to be self-made and to do things himself rather than having people do them for him.

It was a tough one. Even without Diablo's suggestion that he think it over, Steve would still have had to do some serious thinking on the subject, and he doubted he would be making a decision anywhere in the next few days.

But then again, that wasn't important right now. What had to be foremost in his mind was Sean Williams. While Steve was obviously being noticed, having been thrown at Williams, all of that could vanish in an instant if he were to lose. By beating Darkside, he'd started a runaway train that he now had to stay on board and keep falling off at all costs. But while failure would bring his train of victory to a temporary halt, victory would propel him further and further. If he beat a champion, major opportunities wouldn't be far. And in a time where the Prodigy Championship was vacant, he could certainly use all the acclaim and boosts he could get.

One thing was certain. Even if Steve decided to take up Diablo's offer, if he had it his way next week, he would be proving decisively, once and for all, that he was more than capable of opening doors on his own, with no input or assistance from anybody else.

Even if he had to throw Sean Williams' inert body through the door to do it.

[CONTINUED: Promo - The Undeniable Words #2, 2/17/08]

Now, I've been paying attention to some of your previous experiences and words in this federation, and I understand you're a homosexual. You're gay. You're seeing a dude. Whatever you wanna call it. I've been paying attention enough to at least know that. And I get the impression that it's a fact that's had some rather nasty negativity rained down on you throughout your life and throughout your career. Opponents must seize on that fact, sink their teeth in and rip you to shreds. I know they would. And I suppose you might be sitting in your chair wondering- when's this guy gonna do the same. When's SJ going to open his mouth and start ripping on you for being a fairy, for being an abomination, for being a girly-man, for defying God's law, for being a filthy degenerate, for God knows what else? Well, I'm going to answer that question for you right now- I'm not going to do any such thing.

Cause I don't really care, Sean.

That's right, you guys all heard me. It's of little moment to me that my opponent happens to play for the other team. It has no real relevance for my own purposes involving you, Sean. As far as I'm concerned, you're an objective I have to neutralize, and you're an opposing combatant. I really don't give a damn what you do in your free time, who you see, where you stick what. It will come down to absolutely nothing in this contest, so why in the hell should I even care? So there you go, congrats. At least in this match, you're not gonna be on the wrong end of homophobia. But that's not really a great advantage, because while I won't be lashing out of any personal hatred, I'll still be hitting you with everything I've got to bring you down. Hell... in the end you might even wish I did have a chip on my shoulder about it, at least then I'm more likely to make an error.

Actually - hold that thought, something occurred to me. There's only one way your little relationships and alliances are going to become an issue to me, and that's if they wind up in my business. As you might have gathered from the last Disclosure, I don't enjoy having the threat of having stooges and lackies dangled over my head. So far, you haven't given me any reason to suspect that I need to remove anybody out of the equation personally. But I'm not stupid, Sean. My knowledge of PDW doesn't begin with my debut. I've seen this 'Vincent' character get involved in stuff that doesn't concern him, and I've seen your other pals, the rest of this... 'Sinful Ambition'... get involved. Am I accusing you of holding them in reserve if things to wrong? Nope. But be warned, if I've got a reason to think it's going to happen, that's when I'm going to have no choice but to take certain desperate- and painful- measures. But save that, I really don't care who or what you associate with.

I'm aware the odds are probably considered to be against me in this match. After all, you've demonstrated some stuff and you're widely considered by the guys around here to be 'on a roll' right now. You're accomplishing stuff and making a serious name for yourself, and I on the other hand just beat one other guy in a debut. But don't think for a second I'm going to allow popular opinion to hold me back. There weren't an awful lot of people who thought I was going to bring down Darkside either, and yet I was successfully able to do it. That doesn't mean what they're saying about you means nothing to me- obviously they're saying it for a reason and I'm in the process of finding out why. But suffice it to say, I intend on bringing you down nevertheless.

I suppose the question has to be asked- if I win this, will I be coming for your Bloodshed Championship? Some people have probably looked at the background information available on me and have already shrugged this off and gone 'no, SJ's not really a hardcore fighter, it's not gonna happen!'. And there are others on the other side of the fence that would argue that if I can beat you, logically you've got your ideal number one contender. But the only person who can reasonably answer that question is me. And the truth be told, Sean... I haven't completely decided yet. Contrary to what some people argue, I can fight with only one rule, and I can make a man bleed. And to be in a position to be a threat to the gold would be... alluring. But at the same time, there are so many other goals I also keep in mind. Perhaps it may only be that I'll use you as a springboard to those other levels. I haven't decided yet.

But it doesn't make a difference what my objective is, Sean. It doesn't change the fact that I'm coming and I'm about to show you what combat superiority is all about. Forget about everyone you've beaten before to get on this 'roll' of yours. Forget about Erik Harris, who you defeated to get that title of yours. All of them are irrelevant, and not a single one of them can be compared to the man you face now.

Get ready, Sean Williams, because it is my intention to test you. Yeah, you're the Bloodshed Champion, but you haven't been in action since then. I suppose this is the time where the question will really be asked- just how much of a roll are you actually on? Like myself, you're riding a great success that could take you just about anywhere you want it to right now, and you're being noticed. Unfortunately, so am I, and unfortunately, one man is going to be declared on a bigger roll right now. That might very well determine which man goes for a bigger objective yet, and which man's rerouted into more... mediocre challenges.

I'm not ready to stop riding the success yet, but only one of us is going to be able to fit on this train. Somebody's gonna have to be thrown off, and to put it quite frankly, I intend to fight with every fiber of my being to make sure it's not me. And I intend on making it nigh on impossible for you to stop me.

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!