RP #5- "Humanity"

[Promo - The Undeniable Words #5, 7/2/08]

So, it looks like things have... changed a little since the last Undeniable Words.

I'm talking, of course, about my own matchup. Up until recently, I was under the impression that this was going to be a three-way for the Bloodshed Championship. I think just about everybody was under that impression up until very recently. Sean Williams, Toni Terror and myself. Just the magnitude of a collision of three forces like that was enough to get a lot of people interested in this match, and I have absolutely no doubt that not only will fans be watching, but management and even dare I say it, the contenders to the Prodigy title and even the Platinum Champ himself will be watching this one to see what they could potentially be faced with down the line.

With that said, a spanner seems to have been thrown into the works. As we all no doubt have heard a million times by now, Sarah Knight- Toni Terror to the vast majority of us- has been institutionalized until further notice. Effectively taking her out of the PDW for quite some time. Now, we've heard from the people who committed her, and we've heard from Star, but I suppose the question on a lot of people's minds is what do the two people who were going to fight her think? Are they now going to gloat and kick her while she's down since she's no longer a threat? What do I think?

I'm not going to kick her while she's down. Hell, I'm not even going to go into a windy diatribe on how drugs and alcohol do this shit to you, because it's none of my business, really. It begins and it ends with how it impacts on this match for me. To be honest... I'm a little regretful, really. I was looking very forward to taking Toni- Sarah, if you will- on, and I was expecting her to give me one of the roughest fights I've had in quite some time. I was sort of expecting to get pushed to my limits and for these reasons, I really wanted this match to be what it was before this happened.

But with that said, I'm not going to point fingers, blame anybody or claim she's 'weak' or claim it's all a ruse to get out of the match. It sounds to me like she seriously needs help, and I hope that she receives it and gets back to 100%. When she does, I am sure that we will fight again. Hell, it may very well be for the Bloodshed Championship itself. As it is, I officially express my regrets and wish her a speedy recovery, and hope to see her fighting again soon.

With that said, it is still business as usual for this matchup. One has to expect these things to happen, and one has to be prepared to alter his game plan to take that into account. That's pretty much what I'm doing now. As much as I'd like to see a spontaneous recovery by Toni, I must now concede that we're now about to see SJ versus Sean Williams, round two. Bloodshed title on the line. And you'd better believe that I'm bringing every last piece of firepower that I was going to bring into a three-way.

So, here we are again, Sean. I imagine you're probably getting pretty tired of my voice this month, but unfortunately, them's the breaks. I've got things that have to be said. You can roll your eyes, go 'not this guy again', and shut off the TV, or you can listen up and take in what I've got to say. Your call, but either way I'm going ahead.

I suppose things have now become a little more personal for you and I. With Toni in the mix, I suppose the rage could be distributed around a little bit in the match, but now it's just become that much more up-close and in-your-face. It's now become mano-a-mano, two men beating the living bejesus out of each other without anybody else to worry about. In some ways, that might just make this match a little more brutal. It also means that not only do I not have to watch my back so much, but I get to concentrate every last bit of my offensive power on you.

Hell, when you look at it this way, maybe a three-way's was a bit more of a blessing.

[MAIN STORY]

DATE/TIME: 3:30PM, Thursday March 6, 2008
LOCATION: Boardwalk, Atlantic City, New Jersey

Steve really needed this return to the coast.

Now, let's get one thing straight. Steve Jason had absolutely no problem living in a landlocked city, and Philadelphia had been pretty good to him in the last month and a bit he'd spent living there. Better than good to him, he loved the place, the relative anonymity that he had there outside of PDW affairs, and the general feel of the city. But he was still a 'surfie' at heart, and members of that subculture had to be by the coast every so often. Growing up on the Sunset Coast and involving himself with the subculture there for fifteen years of his life had instilled a certain affinity with the ocean and coastal communities in general, and every so often, the longing to return to it and reconnect with the area on both a mental and spiritual level had to be whetted.

Now that Steve was a bare matter of days away from his first title match in Platinum, it seemed like the ideal time to jump in his Nissan Navara, swing by and pick up Dougy, and hare it along the interstate to New Jersey. Atlantic City, to be precise.

Steve had been to Atlantic City a few times before. He had a good friend in the casino industry there, and that meant that he could rely on accommodation, cheap drinks and easy entertainment if he needed it. He'd always liked the city- particularly the iconic, world-famous boardwalk that had inspired so many others around the world- including a few in Steve's own home region. Plus, it was pretty close to Philly itself, to the point where driving down didn't even really require any planning. In a way, this was actually a benefit of Philadelphia itself- in addition to not being Los Angeles, and in addition to being a good city, it was also not too far from the only other important thing in Steve's life. It was a win-win, really.

Despite the fact that the States were only just beginning to make the gradual transition out of winter, that didn't stop Steve or Dougy from being out and about on the boardwalk. There weren't enormous crowds of people out and about, but still a moderate amount. This part of the boardwalk passed by rather close to the Atlantic itself, which looked rather grim, uninviting, and most importantly of all, cold. The beaches were most definitely abandoned today, and for good reason. The other side of the boardwalk was covered rather densely by bars, restaurants, cafes and various other attractions that clearly screamed 'tourist-bait', while in the background, further away from the boardwalk, the looming towers of hotel/casino hybrids cast their shadows over the area.

"I did try to warn you..." Steve said casually to Dougy in mid-stride. He'd come dressed for the relatively cool weather, a thin, lightweight black jacket pulled up over a white t-shirt, black denim jeans and Kustom skate shoes. Despite the fact it was still virtually winter and there was no real need for them, a pair of black Oakley Minutes were pulled up over his eyes. A thermal takeaway cup of coffee- flat white, no less- rested in his hands.

"I honestly don't know what happened, Steve..." Dougy scratched the part of his forehead not concealed over his red trucker cap in confusion. He wore a somewhat baggy, fuzzy jacket over a blue short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt, denim jeans and boots, "I mean, it usually works. I don't know what I did wrong."

"I'll tell you what you did wrong. You bet $2000 on Thirty-six Red. That's what you did wrong. I tried to warn you about roulette."

"But... come on, man! Haven't you played roulette? Do you know how easy it is to win?"

"Yeah- if you bet on red and black or odds and evens! If you bet on a single individual number, it becomes one in thirty-six! Come on, Dougy, did you fail maths or something?"

"You know damn well that I rocked up to my Year 12 maths exam drunk, and spent the entire exam staring lustily at the girl you had a crush on." Dougy grinned, "So you should know the answer to that."

"Heh. Given that you thought you could actually win one in thirty six as easily as one in two, I do." Steve smirked, shook his head, and sipped from his coffee.

"Yeah, well... at least I'm not drinking some fairy frappuccino penguin-piss like some kind of intellectual elitist wanker!" was Dougy's desperate retort, "Can't you at least drink beer?"

"Never before title matches." Steve replied, "Always been a personal ritual of mine."

"What, you afraid of magically becoming an alcoholic before the match or something?" Dougy smirked and shook his head, "That ain't gonna happen, mate."

"Actually, it's a luck thing..." Steve replied matter-of-factly, "It's bad luck for me to drink before title matches. Call it superstition if you want."

The boardwalk along them turned to become a bend, and as a result Steve and Dougy both shifted their paces, moving to head back in a straight line. They were heading away from the ocean now, back towards the streets and buildings of Atlantic City. Steve adjusted his sunglasses and peered back up the boardwalk. Dougy, on the other hand, seemed to have noticed something, adjusting his collar awkwardly before speaking.

"Steve... what's the Ruski doing here?"

"Mmm?" Steve blinked, raising a brow at Dougy's question.

"The Ruski. Your mate Diablo had a Ruski guy working for him. So why is he at that ice cream stand?"

Still confused at his friend's words, Steve cast his eyes along the right side of the boardwalk. Sure enough, the 'Ruski' - in this case, one Sergei Volkov, one of Jim Diablo's right-hand-men- was standing directly in front of an ice cream stall set up on the side. Despite the weather and despite Sergei's rough-guy image, a bubblegum ice-cream cone was perched in his hand. A nondescript black turtleneck, cargo pants and boots kept him protected from the cold around him. It seemed as if he'd been waiting to be noticed, as he wasted no time making his way over towards the two men. Steve simply watched, while Dougy grinned and spoke up.

"Sergei. I see you've got some bubblegum ice-cream. Totally badass, comrade."

"Almost as badass as you are funny..." Sergei replied dryly before turning to regard Steve, "Steve."

"Sergei. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Relax, relax..." As if to emphasise his point, Sergei held his hands up in a placating mock-surrender, "Mr. Diablo's not here, and neither's Chanah. There aren't a thousand ninjas about to come bursting out of the ice cream store over there. This isn't another test, and in fact, up until recently Mr. Diablo's plan was to accede with your wishes and leave you alone until you had... cooled down after your reaction to our test."

"Then what are you doing here, Sergei?" Steve's question was about as subtle and tactful as a sledgehammer to the face.

"I'm actually here to convey... well, it's not really so much a message as it is some news. You're out of Philadelphia, so odds are you may not have heard the news yet. It's about your upcoming match."

"Surprise, surprise. Something happens in my match and the Diablo crew know about it before I do. I'm really getting worried as to how much you stick your nose into my business, you know that?" At that, Steve began to walk in a steady pace, Dougy joining him. Sergei, obviously not giving up so easily, followed at a short pace, the three walking in a steady line along the boardwalk.

"Take it up with Diablo. He's the one that does all the snooping. I'm just the employee." Sergei managed a bare shrug, "Besides, I don't think you'll be quite so surly when you hear the news."

"Then let's hear it."

"Somebody called Sarah Knight was recently admitted to a mental institution. If you've done the research, and I'm sure you have, you'd know that she's otherwise known as 'Toni Terror'."

That drew Steve up to a halt. He certainly wasn't expecting to hear that. He drew to a halt, which resulted in Dougy and Sergei slowing just ahead of him. Dougy's look was one of mild confusion, while Sergei's look was blank, nondescript, as if he was waiting for Steve's response. Steve blinked a couple of times, taking a few moments to run that through his head, then finally responded.

"You mean to tell me that Toni Terror's in the nuthouse?"

"Precisely. I'm just getting what I was fed by Diablo, but apparently it has made the news at least in Philadelphia. Apparently she was found out of her mind in her apartment and was rushed to a hospital. One thing turned to another, and she was institutionalized. Which means, effectively, that she is no longer a concern for you. Diablo wanted me to tell you this, along with the following message." Sergei paused for dramatic effect, then added in a matter of fact tone, "'Congratulations, champ.'"

"Congratulations, champ? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wanted to fight her." Steve's jaw set in irritation, and his brows lowered in a show of obvious annoyance.

"Wanted to? Why? She was the only uncertain factor in your match. You defeated Sean Williams already, you could do it again. With Ms. Knight out of the picture, you are as good as champion. You should be celebrating!"

"OK. First point, I barely came out over Sean, and the rules were different. I'm taking the fight into his domain this time and that will not be easy, so I don't think proclaiming me 'as good as champion' is smart. And secondly, why would I be celebrating? A woman's in the nuthouse! What kind of sicko are you?"

"I'm only relaying Diablo's sentiments, Steve." Sergei blinked.

"Alright, what kind of nutcase is Jim Diablo, then?" Steve's eyes were almost blazing with anger now as he stared a hole into Sergei, "You lot go on about how well you know me and how you know all this stuff about what I'm doing in PDW, but it's quite obvious you've missed one little point- I. Thrive. On. Competition. I wanted to fight Toni. I was looking forward to it. It was an experience I was hoping to really take something away from, primarily because she's easily been one of the hottest talents in the last month. If she needs to get help, she needs to get it, and I understand why she had to pull out, but I will not celebrate it! If anything, I regret that it happened."

Obviously, that reply had been more intense than Steve had intended it to be, as not only was Dougy watching in surprise, but a number of passers-by had slowed down, eyes passing over the three to see exactly what all the commotion about. The only person who showed no real reaction was Sergei himself, who still looked decidedly neutral about everything that was said.

"You know, I can't help but wonder if your humanity's getting the better of you here, Steve..." Sergei finally responded, "Wasn't it you who was talking on the airwaves days ago about 'killer instinct' and how you would do whatever was required to eliminate your opponents with no qualms? And now that things are getting easier for you, you refuse to celebrate it? You 'wish' the match was back in its original form? If you want the opinion of Diablo, you're going..."

"I'm sick and goddamn tired of the opinion of Diablo!" Steve finally lashed back at Sergei, stepping straight into the Russian's personal space, "The last month, I've had to put up with you guys sticking your nose in at every turn. I've had Diablo virtually demand my 'friendship', I've see him take an interest in Jem Williams, I've had him start asking weird questions about one of my opponents, I've had him try to have me assassinated as a test when I gave him the wrong answer, I've had to deal with him sending you to tail me all the way to Atlantic City, and now he's trying to tell me how to think? You know something, Sergei? Screw it!"

"Mate, as much as I love a public display..." Dougy interjected nervously, peering at the growing crowd, "I know you don't. Maybe we oughta go take a nice quiet walk on the beach where you two can start yelling your heads off at each other without the fear of drawing too much attention to yourself."

"I don't think so." Steve replied coldly, "I've finally had about enough of the Diablo problem, and I think it's about time to solve it right here, right now." He rounded on Sergei, "Here is what you'll do, Sergei. You are going to leave Atlantic City, and you're going to go straight back to Philadelphia. Then you are going to tell Jim Diablo that we are done. Tell him that I don't want his 'interventions' any more. Tell him that he's finally gone over the line. And tell him that if he even thinks about trying to change my mind, he will regret it. And if he argues any more, you can tell him two more words. I don't think I have to tell you what those words are. Got it?"

"You're making a mistake, Steve." Sergei replied.

"Probably, but it's my mistake to make. I don't need you babysitters trying to tell me what I can and can't do, what I can and can't think, how I should be dealing with my matches and how I should be thinking."

"We have never ordered..."  

"Oh, you have, Sergei, don't think for a second that I'm a moron. You've been awfully passive-aggressive about it, but any moron can tell that you guys are forcing your opinions on me. Well, SJ doesn't do that. I don't need your connections in Philly if that's the case. I'd rather do everything by myself on my own turns than be fast-tracked and be forced to do what you guys think is right. So I'm telling you. Get out of here."

"I can see you're going to insist on being unreasonable about this..." Sergei sighed in resignation, shrugging, "Very well. I'll tell Diablo everything you have said. But I cannot guarantee that he will accept what you're saying."

"If he doesn't, it's going to be a very big, very stupid mistake." Steve replied bluntly, "As it is, I'm done with you, Sergei. It's been nice knowing you."

"I don't think we're saying goodbye just yet, Steve." Sergei disagreed. But nevertheless, he did as he was asked, turning around and abruptly leaving Steve and Dougy in his wake, going back the way he came down the boardwalk. The crowd of onlookers, now deprived of their entertainment, proceeded to go about their business and continue walking. That only left a bewildered Dougy alone with Steve.

"Geez, mate! You were a bit hard on Sergei there, don't you think?"

"I've got nothing against the guy, but he's Diablo's ears and mouth. What I say to him will get to Diablo himself, so I had to be as harsh as I could. Jim needs to get it through his skull that this has to stop."

"Still, you've probably burned a massive bridge..."

"Perhaps..." Steve shrugged, "But it had to be done. It's my way or it's the highway. And I really didn't like them telling me how I was supposed to think. My way's been fine for the last thirty years, and I take exception to them trying to ram something else down my throat."

"I suppose. I just hope Diablo takes it alright." Dougy chuckled quietly and shook his head, "He might be an issue if he gets pissed."

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't." Steve shrugged, "It's of no moment to me right now. I have other things to deal with, and they warrant my priority."

'Other things' were rather obvious. The Bloodshed Championship match. It was drawing closer and closer now, and as it did, the sense of anticipation was growing.

It had been... a very long time since Steve had ever been in a conflict for his very first piece of title gold in a federation. Long enough for the experience to have faded from memory and to have become almost like new again. Sure, titles were great, but there was always something about taking that very first belt that got the heart racing and excitement running throughout the body. While it was still a few days away, Steve could definitely feel the beginning of that excitement running through his veins.

He'd proven himself worthy weeks ago, and now it looked like the time had finally come to follow through and prove his worth. If he did this, an undefeated streak would become that much longer, and to boot he would be known as the man who dethroned Sean Williams- and he'd also have the Bloodshed Championship to his name. He'd set himself up for this and he'd proven his worth to be here, now the only question that would remain would be 'would he take it?'

It was an unfamiliar field to Steve, that was for sure. Hardcore fighting, first-blood rules and all that were out of his regular league. And perhaps that was part of what made this so rewarding- the chance to fight and master another style of fighting. By raising that title above his head, he'd once again prove himself as a master of all styles, a jack of all trades, a master of combat superiority. Nothing would make that statement stronger than winning the Bloodshed Championship at this point in time.

Nothing more needed to be said- well, not really. One last Undeniable Words would cover it, and then all bets would be off and Steve would have the chance to come and get what he'd been gunning for ever since beating Sean the first time. And so it was that, as he walked with Dougy along the boardwalk, he steeled his resolve and surged forward.

It was time to get his gold and prove his worth.

[CONTINUED: Promo - The Undeniable Words #5, 7/2/08]

So, I couldn't help but tune into a certain radio show you featured on, Sean. 'On the throne with the Platinum Queen', wasn't it? I have to admit, 'on the throne' might not have been the best choice of words, given that's usually associated with being on the john, but I'll leave that. I've gotta admit, I don't really listen to that sort of stuff usually- celebrity talk bores the hell out of me, and I really couldn't give a damn how many lines of coke Lindsay Lohan snorted this week- but I nevertheless tuned in to hear what you had to say. I did notice you brought up our match at at least one point. I have to admit, I was impressed how you didn't just slag us off like most morons would. That's something I applaud. It shows you've actually got a brain up there.

But there's just one question I'm gonna ask you, Sean.

How do you know, at this early point in the game, that you 'have the match won?'. I can understand confidence, sure. You don't think I'm feeling the same thing? Au contraire, I feel I can take you down. But that's where you and me differ, I think. I think I can, you've deluded yourself into thinking you will and that there's not a damn thing I or anyone else can do to change that fact. And you know something, there might be some cases, some opponents, where you'd be justified in saying that. I'm not gonna dispute that fact.

But you said a very similar thing the last time we fought. Hell, last time we fought, I think I was the only person who wasn't saying that you were going to walk out the winner. You thought it was a given, the fans thought it was a given, some of the backstage probably thought it was a given. Everyone pretty much said that this rookie newcomer known as 'SJ' was getting lucky, but that the Bloodshed Champion was going to stomp him into the ground and bring him back to reality. But it didn't happen. You underestimated me, and everyone else underestimated me, and I ended up shocking the lot of you. I would have thought you'd have learned your lesson.

That's right. Learned your lesson. I said it. It sounds cocky, it sounds arrogant, but matches are a learning experience, Sean. Last time we fought, not only did I win, but I went home knowing a lot more about the man I fought at the time. Information that may come in useful again. But believe it or not, as much as you'd like to pretend the first time we fought never happened, there's a few useful gems of wisdom you could take out of it. I want you at your best, so I don't feel like I'm making a mistake when I tell you that it's not too late to get those gems of wisdom and use them. On the contrary, I urge you to.

Stupid idea, right? No, not really. The honest truth is, Sean, I want this victory to become the kind of thing that will be talked about for some time. I want everyone to know that I went up against Sean Williams at his absolute best, on a major vengeance, with the odds stacked against me and with no apparent chance of victory... and that I still won. Yep, that's a pretty egotistical and glory-hunting thing to say, but nevertheless that is what I intend to take away from this match. For these reasons, I feel I'm making the right decision by demanding you be at your best. And by 'at your best', I don't mean the maximum of what you think your current capabilities are. I want you to go further. I want you to go further than you thought was possible. I want you to reach heights you never thought you'd reach. That is the man that I want to defeat.

For these reasons, I'm going to make a controversial word of advice here. It may be one that'll piss you off, and it may be one that I'll be seen as a jerk for commenting on, but it needs to be said. Your personal life. It's... something of a phenomenon here in PDW. I can't seem to be able to even turn on a radio without being blasted with all the news about who you're with and who you're not with, and all the nitty-gritty details of the cyclone everyone calls your social life. Seems you've got an awful lot to deal with, and I actually kind of respect the fact you're holding your own and juggling a career through all that.

With that said, I want to be absolutely certain you leave it at the door on Sunday.

That's right, I said it. All of the Days of Our Lives stuff won't mean a thing on Sunday. The last thing you want to have on your mind is that dropkick of a boyfriend of yours and whatever retarded thing he's apparently done this time. Not in the middle of a firefight while I'm bearing down on you with whatever I can get in my hands. Not when I'm in a fury that'll only be satisfied by blood. It's obvious that you're human, and that's a great thing. Humanity's good. Too many people are deprived of it in this screwy world we live in, and the more people that have it, the better. But all the notions of humanity- emotions, feelings, troubled thoughts- are handicaps once you get into the ring.

Your humanity won't help you here, Sean. It sure as hell won't be helping me, and I'll be casting mine aside as I enter the Bloodshed Championship. Out of the ring, I'm known as a rather nice guy, so long as you don't get on my bad side. I'm easy-going, I'm generally pretty friendly if not provoked, I'm hard to anger, I'm generally a good person. But I won't be that in the ring. I cannot afford to be. Not in a match where it requires you to get down to your most base, primitive, animalistic level. Not in a match where your humanity might be the one thing that holds you back and keeps you from a victory.

That's the last thing I want you to keep in mind, Sean. You will not be facing a human being on Sunday. Not a god either, far from it. About the only honest way I can describe it is a machine- run purely on instinct, without remorse, without second thoughts and without restraint. And make no mistake... I will stop at nothing and will be held back by nothing, and my focus will be solely directed on one thing-

Becoming the new PDW Bloodshed Champion.

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!