RP #7- "Top Tier"

[Promo - The Undeniable Words #7, 4/6/08]

Christ. I must have done something right last week.

That's about the only thing I can possibly say to start off the leadup into this week's Disclosure. For those who tuned in to last week's Undeniable Words, it was made rather apparent that I was getting pretty psyched up about my match with Julian Dark. Sure, I was excited, I was on the edge, I was taking it very seriously, and it was pretty obvious that I was relishing the chance to finally take on a seriously major player around here. I think anybody with half a brain realised that.

So maybe, just maybe, you've got an outside chance of realising just what's going through my brain right now that I'm slated up against the Platinum Champion.

You know, it's interesting. You've got people like Reggie Stallworth- who I'm sure is responsible for communications and broadcasting experts around the world crying themselves to sleep at night over the fact that he somehow managed to get a job over them- claiming that it's just a flash in the pan thing, that it's just 'luck', that I've somehow managed to gun my way to the cleanest record and biggest winning streak in PDW at this present moment in time based on a pure freak accident of chance. You've got these people who've shrugged you off, and who figure you're gonna go the way of your tag team partner and just do really good and then suddenly blip off the map. Matches like this are your chance to finally prove them wrong. Matches like this are a chance to finally silence your critics and to gloat in their faces about being right.

Make no mistake about it, if I beat Mike Ryba at this Disclosure, even Stallworth is going to have to clam up and face the facts that I'm the real deal here in Platinum. And that in itself is enough to inspire me and to get me psyched up about this match. I've been rather quiet for days now, sort of vanishing from the radar for a few days, and I imagine some people are foolishly mistaking that for weakness. Let me assure you, this disappearance has been nothing more than preparation for what's ultimately the biggest match to date.

Yeah, I know, I've had about three 'biggest matches to date' back to back and I imagine it's getting tiring of hearing the same thing again, but nevertheless it's true. Some people might argue that right now Mike Ryba's in a bit of a weak spot after the controversial finish of his last match- I guess everyone thought he would have put Jack Nation away easily- and that it might make him slightly easier pickings, but I'm not operating with that assumption in my head. As far as I'm concerned, I could easily be up against the man who dispatched John Raide- or the man who became the first ever Platinum Champion- and I'm preparing myself for that fact.

So I might as well address him.

Mike Ryba. I had a feeling this match would be coming, but I didn't think it would be happening as soon as it did. To be honest, I thought the fact you were Platinum Champion would have meant that I wouldn't be able to so much as touch you for at least a couple of months or so. Well, I guess surprises never cease. I've been given this opportunity, and odds are I'm only going to get one shot at it for quite some time, so I'm going to be making the most of it.

Now, let me clarify something. I have no issue with you. I bear you no malice. You haven't done anything to piss me off. But unfortunately, Mike, right now you can consider yourself a high-priority target- perhaps one of the highest priorities I've ever had. Two reasons for that- first and foremost, you are number one around here right now. The sheer... advantages I could gain from a victory over you are such that I would be mad not to capitalise.

Secondly, you are perhaps the biggest threat to my winning streak. I'm kind of priding myself on it right now, to be honest. I haven't been beaten once since walking into PDW. They're starting to call me 'unstoppable as of late'. To be honest... I'm starting to like it. It's been a long time since I've been considered one of the fastest-rising stars out there, and to be honest, I'm not ready for the rise to come to a crash yet. It's not time. But nevertheless, if there's one man who can do it, some would argue it's you. Maybe that's why they made the damn match in the first place. Know one thing, however- I'll be defending it to the end, and to be quite frank, I'm not holding anything back for this one.

[MAIN STORY]

DATE/TIME: 10:15 PM, Saturday April 5, 2008
LOCATION: The Shack, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

You'd be surprised just how much a place could change in a surprisingly short amount of time with manpower and a hell of a lot of dollars.

We pick up the story once again with Steve Jason at Dougy McNamara's new business venture, known fondly as 'The Shack'- but one could have been forgiven for thinking that it was a completely different place. The renovations Dougy had planned had begun almost as soon as Steve had left the Shack last time, and work had taken place at a ridiculously fast pace.

A week ago, The Shack had been a virtually abandoned derelict building containing a counter, and a coffee machine. Now, as Steve stood in the parking lot overlooking the building, the changes were apparent, even from the outside. A brand new gold paintjob decorated the entire two-storey building, and an entire fenced-off front patio area had been built around the entrance of the building, serving as an outdoor dining area where a fairly large number of people were eating and drinking. Directly in the center of the building was the entrance- two sliding glass doors giving a clear view to the inside. Above it was a rectangular balcony going around the entire second floor of the building, the railings painted silver to offset the gold color of the building. Finally, at the very top, was a neon-lit pink and blue sign, almost ala the late 1980s, with the big bold words 'THE SHACK' for all to see. The faint thud of music could be heard coming from inside the building, and there was absolutely no question about it- the party was going off.

And that wasn't even taking into account the enormous crowd of people that could be seen behind the railings on the roof. Whatever was going on up there, it was good. He peered around, then adjusted his black lightweight jacket, pulling it over his red t-shirt and blue denim jeans, and slowly and surely made his way towards the building.

It didn't take long for Steve to make his way over towards the doors- and once the sliding doors parted way to allow Steve into the main cafe area, he was suddenly almost blown back as the faint thud of music he'd heard before suddenly translated itself into a full-blown assault of sound. 'Love Shack' by the B-52s, no less. He knew that song right away, and somehow he knew it wasn't too much of a surprise to hear it at a venue owned and operated by Dougy.

Like the sign on top of the club, it seemed that heavy neon lighting was the order of the day for The Shack at night-time. Shades of fluorescent blues, reds, yellows and greens shifted and seemed to move throughout the wide open area of the cafe, two thirds of which was decked out in a plush burgundy carpet. The simple wooden tables of the past had been removed and were now replaced with somewhat funkier, up-market sculpted plastic chairs and tables. No doubt about it, despite the neon and the old music, there was a distinctly modern feel to it too. All kinds of people were seated at the tables with food and coffee in front of them- mostly young single professional types, but there were a few families, teenagers and even a few older people in the mix too. The last third of the area had been converted into what appeared to be a stage, complete with a polished wooden dance floor. At the moment, a DJ was set up at the front, fiddling around with his setup.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Dougy's voice was amplified by what appeared to be a bullhorn, echoing throughout the main floor of The Shack, "We'll let you get back to eating and drinking in just a second, but if you'll pass your eyes to the sliding doors just there, you'll notice the arrival of none other than Shack regular, PDW wrestler and local resident Steve Jason. Now remember, he's the Bloodshed Champion and we go way back, so if you start any trouble in my establishment, he will decapitate you with a biscotti! And by that, I mean literally use the edge of a biscotti to remove your head. Thank you and have a lovely night!"

"Charming." Steve mumbled as a few eyes flickered his way, wasting little time tracking down his friend. Sure enough, Dougy was at the counter- but even the counter and the area behind it had changed. It was now a hard, clear, almost crystalline surface, mounted on thick stone supports. A series of shelves containing a variety of liquids- both alcoholic and non- were set up behind none other than Dougy himself, who had changed his attire for the first time in years. Now instead of Hawaiian gear, he wore a traditional blue and black bowling shirt, complete with monogram on the chest reading 'Dougy'. His cap and his boardshorts, naturally, hadn't changed.

"Welcome to the grand opening, mate!" The grin on Dougy's face was ecstatic as he greeted his friend, "Glad you could take the time out to make it. I know you've got a very busy week and a very big match in a few days, so I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem. I need a caffeine fix anyway..." Steve smirked and shook his head, "Got to do video review when I get home, and that entails sitting in a chair in the dark for two hours watching TV. Figure I could use some caffing up."

"And caffing up you shall do!" Dougy grinned, suddenly reaching up to produce a large paper cup with plastic cap- the kind designed to keep coffee warm for takeaways, "I had this prepared specially for you, SJ. Every cafe has its specialty coffee, its own unique signature blend that people associate with the place. I've spent the last four days in the lab carefully preparing this one. It took days of failed attempts to get the combination of ingredients just about right, but I think I've actually managed to get it just about right. Give it a try!"

"Why not?" With that, Steve lifted the cup up and took a sip through the cap- and promptly proceeded to screw his face up and cough. Whatever it was, it didn't go well. It was as if somebody had blended a perfectly good, warm coffee with something cold and rather... bitter. The bitter flavor was disturbingly familiar- as if it were something Steve had enjoyed on its own, but couldn't possibly when combined with the coffee.

Somewhere out the corner of his eye, Steve suddenly saw Abbie Lawrence break down in silvery laughter. The Shack's new barista had settled into her role nicely it had seemed, her ash-blonde hair hanging loose in curls, decked out in a casual white tanktop and jeans. And right now, she looked visibly amused at Steve's reaction.

"Oh, bloody hell. I mustn't have blended the flavors right..." Dougy noted clinically.

"What... what the hell is that?" Steve demanded.

"A new experimental kind of coffee. Douglas Henry Phidippidies McNamara III's Special Tall Beer Latte."

"Beer latte." Steve's voice was incredulous.

"That's right."

"Beer. Latte."

"I didn't stutter, did I?"

"Did it not occur to you that there's a reason they don't combine beer and coffee?" Steve asked in exasperation.

"Um... I dunno, I just guessed that nobody had ever really considered the idea before through some freakish flash of fate, and that it was my destiny to bring such a beverage into the world and give it life."

"I'm just gonna put you out of your misery, Dougy. They didn't mix them because combining them, they taste absolutely foul." Steve answered with all the subtlety of a shotgun.

The look on Dougy's face fell- as one really could have expected when somebody had revealed that your so-called 'great idea' was actually one of the most catastrophic failures you could have possibly thought of. Somewhere behind him, Abbie watched on with a bizarre mix of pity and exasperation that could have easily said 'I told you so'. Steve merely offered his friend a semi-consolatory shrug.

"Well, that's alright. I do have my backup, and this one I'm absolutely positive will be a hit. I've come up with a stupendous flavor of ice cream, one that will be talked about for..."

"Beer doesn't go good with ice cream either, Dougy."

"God-bloody-dammit!" Dougy threw his hands up in exasperation, stomping a few steps to the side along the counter, "Everyone on this planet but me has the crappiest tastes!"

"Heh... yeah, everyone but you..." Steve tried to keep a straight face so as to avoid kicking his friend while he was down, "Don't worry, man. I'm sure you'll come up with something. I'm sure your grade-A barista over there has a few ideas, right?"

"What? Don't go dragging me into this, SJ..." Abbie muttered, holding her hands up and shaking her head.

"Nah, it's alright. This is a one man job. Always has been, always will be. I'll just have to go back to the lab and work on something new. But thanks for the heads-up, Steve. Better to hear it from you than to be embarrassed in front of my adoring populace."

"Don't mention it." With that, Steve grinned and swung into one of the seats in front of the counter, "Any chance of a cappuccino?"

"On it!" Abbie was already on her way to the machine, sliding a cup under and working the dials. The music had shifted now, settling into 'September' by Earth, Wind and Fire- more retro, Steve noted- and now the dance floor seemed to be attracting some of the younger crowd, getting into it. In what seemed to be a record time, Abbie slid her way back over with a cup, setting it down in front of him.

"Cheers, Abbie. How you doing?" he asked before sipping from his coffee.

"Good, good. Just settling in, you know? Haven't managed to blow anything up yet, so that's got to be a good sign." Her eyes twinkled with amusement at that, "What about you?"

"Not bad. Just a bit on the edge. I've got to go up against the Platinum Champ in a few days, and it's quite frankly a big deal. First crack at the champ, even if it's not for a title. This one could make me or break me."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I've been watching a bit myself, and I have to say..." She laughed slightly and spread her hands, "They've been throwing a lot at you! Seems like you're just getting harder and harder opponents thrown at you."

"Yeah! What gives, man? Is Star still sore about that time years and years ago you weren't on the same page?" Dougy suddenly stepped back into view, speaking up.

"Where'd you get that idea from?" A brow rose slightly above Steve's eye.

"Well, it looks to me like they keep throwing more and more at you every time that streak of yours gets longer and longer. You had a serious streak once you beat Sean and took the Bloodshed Championship, so they threw Julian at you. Now they're throwing Mike Ryba at you since that didn't work. What're they going to do next, throw two people at you? Do they want your streak to end that bad?"

"I'm not so sure it's actually about ending a streak, Dougy..." Steve shrugged, "I have a feeling they're testing me. I was kinda lost in the shuffle when Jem made his big explosive debut, but I think I've raised a few eyebrows backstage with the last few performances. I don't think they're doing it to end my streak so to speak... I think they're doing it to see what I'm made of. I got by the Bloodshed Champ in a match that a tactician would have said I should have lost. So they threw the Prodigy Champ at me and I got by him. I think that they're trying to find out just how good I am... and now they're playing the last card they can."

"That'd be Ryba." Abbie guessed.

"Pretty much. Mike Ryba's top dog right about now. If he stops me, then they know where to slot me. If Ryba can't stop me... well, PDW still don't know the full extent of just how good I am, but it's obvious that they've got serious fire. I think that's what Star's doing. She's not trying to bring me down, or end my streak, or whatever. I think she's trying to get a measure of just how good I am."

"That's got to excite you. I mean... if you win this one, there's no telling what they'll have in store for you."

"Tell me about it. And that's one of the reasons I really can't let up now. All that stands between me and between that zone of limitless possibility is Ryba. I've got no issue with the guy, but if he's between me and that, I'd be stupid not to try to tear him down!"

"Plus..." Dougy added, raising a finger in the air as if to stress his point, "Might finally be a chance to get one-up on Ryba for what he did to Jem!"

"What're you talking about?" Steve's gaze narrowed to an inquiring squint.

"Well, come on, weren't you watching what happened when Ryba went up against Jem? And haven't you heard the news, man? That hit Ryba landed on Jem wasn't just your standard run of the mill mild injury-causing thing. They're saying that it's the reason why Jem's not here any more. They're saying it's the reason he's done in PDW. Whether you want to admit it or not, SJ... this is the man who took Jem out."

Steve honestly hadn't had time to think about it until now. Yes, he'd heard about what happened to Jem, and he'd known that odds were, Jem wouldn't be wrestling back in PDW for quite some time... if at all. The injuries he'd sustained were severe, and odds were if Jem ever found his way back, his legacy would have been washed clear by the time he got back. But Steve hadn't actually sat down and run it through his head until now, and hadn't thought about the virtual accusation that Dougy was now throwing out into the field.

"Shit, you're right. I hadn't really given it much thought."

"You should, man. What makes you think he won't do the same to you? Sure, you got that whole Unkillable thing to go by... but didn't Jem?"

"Aren't you being a bit dramatic there?" Abbie interrupted, eyeing Dougy thoughtfully, "You're making it sound like it was a deliberate move. I watch this stuff too, y'know, and it looked like an accident to me."

"Hey, I'm just saying is all..." Dougy raised his hands. Nevertheless the question had now been raised in Steve's head, and he was going to have to make an executive decision- rather soon, no less- about what he'd do. He was, after all, rather known in the past for going on bloody tirades to avenge fallen friends. Hell, Jem was the first person he'd gone on such a headhunting for. Was it time to repeat that again, to once again go all vigilante on a person who took his friend out- this time, being the Platinum Champion himself?...

Before Steve could vocalize that, of course, the sliding doors suddenly flew open, and more than a few eyes flickered over towards the figure that had just emerged from it. A beige-colored coat swept around the man, and a matching fedora was perched over his head, covering most of his iron-gray hair. As his bearded face looked up, he immediately became identifiable to Steve- and to Dougy, too, who drew in a sudden breath. The man in the coat stepped closer and closer, until finally, Dougy couldn't hold it in any more.

"The bloody hell do you want, Diablo?"

"Friendly reception for such a venue, Douglas..." Jim Diablo answered smoothly, sliding into a chair in front of the counter, "May I have a flat white?"

Dougy gritted his teeth in obvious frustration, then turned to Abbie, a stormy look on his face, "Flat white, Abbie."

"You sure? We can just get him thrown out..." Abbie frowned, obviously a little worried at the irritation of both men.

"No, last thing we need right now is bad publicity for booting someone out without a good reason."

"That's more like it." Diablo chuckled as Abbie shrugged and went over to the coffee machine, "Ah, Steve. Good to see you. Can I offer you a coffee?"

"No, an answer would be good. What do you want, Diablo? Cause if you're going to harass me about doing business again, you can p..."

"No, no, nothing at all about you. You made your unwillingness and ingratitude towards my offers of friendship quite clear. I'm actually here to speak to somebody else. I'm here to speak with..." Diablo's eyes flashed around, then he finally settled on Dougy, "You."

"Me? What the bloody hell do you want with me?" Dougy blinked in surprise.

"Not an awful lot, actually. I'm actually here to simply relay one message to you." Diablo rose out of his seat suddenly, standing before going eye to eye with Dougy across the counter, "This building. It was supposed to be mine."

"Yours?" Dougy raised a brow, "I don't think so, mate. That was an online auction."

"Yes, and I almost had it for a record low price- until somebody came in with one minute left on the clock and upped my bid by one dollar."

"Hey, you snooze, you lose, El Diablo. Guess you should have gone to bed at 4 AM instead of 3:59."

"Oh, you think you're clever, do you?"

"Damn straight, I do. SJ! Remove this wanker from my building..."

The look on Steve's face was ominous as he suddenly turned to regard Diablo, arms folded and ice-blue eyes blazing.

"You know, I really don't have time to hang around, I'm afraid you'll have to pour that stuff down the drain..." Diablo announced in a louder voice as Abbie came back with his coffee. She blinked a couple of times, a stunned look on her face, then Diablo himself swept around, "Just remember what I said, Dougy. This building was supposed to be mine."

Dougy opened his mouth to speak, but Diablo wasn't listening, already taking off in a straight line towards the double doors, leaving the three completely bewildered in his wake. As he passed outside the building, Abbie was the first to speak.

"So... uh... that's Jim Diablo, huh?"

"Yeah. That was Diablo." Steve eyed Dougy, "You wanna tell me what this is about? Undercutting Diablo in an auction or something?"

"Hey, you snooze, you lose!" Dougy repeated defensively, "He thought he was getting yet another building to add to his empire for a ridiculously cheap price. I merely bid at the last second when everyone else was asleep. It's an acceptable tactic."

"Except now he's pissed at you. And you know Diablo, he's probably going to be a grade-A pain in the arse about it."

"So what? He comes in here, you kick him out! It's simple physics."

"Uh... this is the guy who has a Russian and an ex-IDF chick as two of his cronies, right? He might not come by himself next time. If I were you, I'd... seriously be thinking carefully about what you do next, cause now you've gotten Abbie and me sucked in."

"You... you don't think it'll become too big of a deal, do you?" Dougy looked a little less sure of himself not.

"Don't know, mate. That depends on you. But Diablo's got his eyes on you now, so it's down to you. Not an awful lot I can do for you- like he said, I'm not his concern."

"Christ. Well... uh... don't let it bother you too much, OK, Steve? You've got that big match against Ryba and I know you don't need it distracting you..."

"Oh, I won't be. My attention's firmly on Mike Ryba. After Disclosure, maybe I'll come up with something to help you out, but until then... you're on your own."

"Bloody hell." With that, Dougy slumped down on the counter, massaging his temples with his hands, "I really don't need this crap. Not right now and not right yet."

"Is this regular for you guys?" Abbie blinked, still quite visibly surprised from the confrontation, and from the issues stretching out from it, "I mean... do big deals like this come flying at you continually? They certainly seem to..."

Steve only had one response- quite cynical, and punctuated with a shallow laugh.

"Welcome to my life, Abbie. Welcome to my life."

[CONTINUED: Promo - The Undeniable Words #7, 4/6/08]

Before we go into this match, there's one thing I think you and I need to settle right now, Mike- because I sure as hell need this out in the open before we enter the ring. As you'll no doubt remember, a couple of Disclosures ago you had a match that resulted in my long-time friend, Jem Williams, being put on the shelf and out of PDW for the foreseeable future- with a cracked skull, no less. Pretty serious injury. I'm not sure whether you've put it behind you or not, but unfortunately, my friendship with Jem is such that the media would probably drag it up again in any confrontation between you and I. And so I think it's important that I lay it on the line for you, right here and now, what my thoughts are regarding the injury he sustained, some would argue because of you. People want to know- am I going to come at you baying for vengeance, bloodthirsty and desperate to score some level of revenge for my friend?

The answer- is no.

It's not like you tried to put him out. It's not like you went maliciously overkill in some pathetic attempt to take him out before the PPV. I've got eyes, and I know what happens during matches. To me and to just about everyone watching, it was your textbook example of a match gone horribly wrong. Jem knew the risks just as well as everybody else when he signed on, and he and I of all people know that one false move, one error can put you on the shelf for quite some time. So you don't have to worry about that, at least. It's pretty small consolation, as I'm going to be coming at you pretty damn hard nevertheless, but hey, better to get it out in the open.

With that said, there are a few people who know the history behind Jem and I that might have a few questions going through their head about a clash between you and I. Mike, I'm pretty sure you don't know the details, so I'll fill you in- Jem and I were known in the past as 'the Unkillables'. Now, that name wasn't just a flashy, showy thing. We were reputed as being virtually impossible to take out, to put on the shelf, to remove from competition. Tons of people tried, and they failed miserably. You... kinda disrupted that reputation, at least for Jem. Cause whether I have no ill feeling on it or not, the fact remains that you took him out. Whatever reputation he was bringing with him for being impossible to bring down died courtesy of one 'Fuck That Noise'. And the question's been raised with my personal friends already, and it's probably going through the heads of a few others in PDW- will I suffer that same fate at your hands? Am I fated to follow the exact same pattern of my friend, to blaze a trail of undefeated, unstopped and untapped success- only to not only be stopped by you, but to crash and burn so hard that I'll wind up on the injured list?

My answer- no chance in hell. Jem got overconfident. He underestimated you, and he paid a very heavy price. I've got a benefit he doesn't have- I got to witness what happened if someone doesn't realise what a formidable- and dare I say potentially dangerous- opponent you may be. I haven't dismissed it, I haven't ignored it, and I'm not so stupid as to deny it. That, in my opinion, would be a mistake. To do that is to practically ask for what happened to Jem to happen to me. That's something you need to know right now. I am not my friend, I do not share the same thought patterns as him and I will not be making the same mistakes. So if you had any plans of associating me with him because we both came from the same place at the same time and both blazed similar success trails, I'd advise you change tactics right now.

Just know one thing, Mike- I know you're the Platinum Champion. I know exactly how much effort you've had to put out to win it, and I also know how much effort you had to put out to retain it. I understand that completely, and I'm not in ignorance to it. But know that I am not intimidated by it. Know that I am not standing whacked out of my head like some deer in the headlights. Know that I'm not dumbstruck like some annoying big-city-dreams rookie. I acknowledge it, but I do not fear it, and I will not be held back by it.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is undoubtedly the pinnacle of what has been a long series of tests. First they threw the Bloodshed Champion at me to test me, and I passed that. Then they threw him at me again with a title on the line, and I won it. Then they threw the Prodigy Champion at me, and as damn close as it was, I passed. Now it's time for the final one. PDW seems to want to see just how far I can go and just how good I really am, so now they've thrown the Platinum Champion at me. The number one. The top-level test.

Will it be easy? Hell no. On the contrary, after what Mike's shown he's capable of unleashing, I expect to have to virtually kill myself to knock him down long enough for a three count. But the gains are so high, the payoff for this is so good, that I can't see myself doing anything other than burning with everything I have. If I have my way, not only will it be an effort capable of defeating Mike Ryba... but I dare say it's an effort that'll shock him, that'll shock the crowd, that'll shock the roster, that'll shock Star... hell, it'll even shock me.

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!