No. He's not Carmine Vestieri.
The courtroom was at a standstill, the onlookers murmering amongst themselves as the great prosecutor Carmine Vestieri studied the accused on the witness stand with his brow furrowed in the greatest of concern. He was running out of avenues to explore, running out of ways to get the guilty verdict he so desperately wished for in this case... and with such a shining legal record, no-one could blame him for trying as hard as he had been. Even if he risked getting busted for falsifying evidence by the day's end.
"Your honor," Carmine begins, keeping his voice strong for appearances sake, "If you recall from the police report filed the night the accused was caught at the scene of the crime, there was one particular line that our dear ace attorney over here has neglected to mention. When the police searched the man before bringing him to the squad car, they found a single item tucked into a sewn-in pocket in his pants: a razor!"
The razor was brought forward to the judge, undergoing a quick examination before being presented to the attorney, who, after only a moment of studying... raised his voice to the room.
"OBJECTION!"
The coutroom seemed almost to spin at the sound, Dominic now bringing both hands down upon his stand and glaring violently at his rival, his voice growing in strength as the confidence inside of him seemed to suddenly unlock, a realization dawning on Dominic that had evaded him up until that moment in the case. Ironically, it was the words of Carmine that had brought up the truth in the end and, for Dominic... it was a hell of a way to wrap up another courtroom victory.
"Your honor! The presence of the razor in the police report was overlooked, but now that it has been brought to the table, I've realized how the accused here... was framed!"
"OBJECTION!"
The courtroom seemed to spin yet again, as Carmine gave Pericolo an enraged glare, pointing an accusing finger at him and gripping his stand in a white-knuckled fit.
"How c-could you possibly prove..."
"Not only was our man here framed for this murder... but he was framed by our very own prosecutor, Carmine Vestieri!"
The courtroom exploded into conversation again, unable to believe the nonsensical words they were hearing. The judge began to slam his gavel upon the stand again, the crowd obviously less willing to quiet immediately for him as he yelled out over their voices for order, his eyes hardening as the quiet returned and he lowered his gaze down towards Pericolo, a frown on his features.
"I'd imagine you had some proof of this enormous claim, Mr. Pericolo?"
"Of course, your honor... you see, I was able to make the determination almost immediately. If you take a good look at the razor, there are two letters imprinted on its back... "CV". While I would expect a man such as Carmine to be more intelligent than to use his own personal razors for such a deed, it... is befitting of his ego that he'd be undone by such an amateur mistake."
"OBJECTION!"
Pericolo grinned, watching the stunned and red-faced Carmine shaking his head slowly in horror, immediately regretting what he'd done to put himself here. He was scrambling, doing whatever he could to come up with a viable story, an alibi that could save him from the prison sentence he knew would await him; however...
... just as any other great ordeal he's ever faced, he knew he didn't stand a chance.
The roaring lion. The S Factor. Call yourself what you will, Carmine... but let's get one thing straight right here and now: you were never in my league to begin with. Yes, we've faced off three times, but let's face the facts here... those matches were inevitable. If nothing else, you were just there at the finish because you'd managed to avoid me up until then.
Our first showdown came when your ass tried to plow through the ranks back at Sultan and, whether you want to admit it or not, everyone in that arena that night knew they were coming to watch Pericolo take his rightful spot at the top of that tournament by the time the night was over.
Our second one came when you actually managed to best Bucky Skyler, a feat so unimpressive in and of itself that the sheer fact that it was for the NLCW Undisputed Championship may well have been the reason the NLCW fell victim to the might of the recession in the first place. Seriously, just... a world title match between the two of you sounds about as exciting as a staring contest between Maize and Stacy Jones or-- even worse-- an actual match involving Maize or Stacy Jones.
Anyway, fact remains you manged to beat Bucky for the title (woo!) and, by the time the NLCW Board of Directors decided they only needed two titles in the NLCW, I was being stripped of the Hardcore and Tag Team Titles and sent off to do my own thing. I figured, hey, I'm sitting on a Sultan win... why not cash it? Fact of the matter is, Carmine, you just happened to be the one with the title at the time I chose to do it.
So when the day came and I took your title, a third match was all-but inevitable... after-all, the ever-loveable rematch clause was in effect for you and, believing my win to be nothing more than a fluke (for the second time in a row), you set out trying to get into my head and set me up for failure in my first title defense against you.
You failed again, in the end, and... well, we're all anxiouslyawaiting how you handle your first speech in regards to our fourth little encounter here, Carmine. Will it be another hilariously cliche-ridden romp through your bravado-filled dreams of the future? Will you let us in that little extra bit on your past, on the man you used to be that grew into the boy you are today?
See, I don't really have to try hard to point out just what the fuck is wrong with you, Carmine... all I need to do is bring up a single name from the NLCW's past and it does all the talking for me: "Sugar" Shane Perry.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: you are a poor man's "Sugar" Shane Perry. You have proven yourself to be the perennial copycat of the old dog this past year and, sorry kid, that's not a high honor in the slightest. At least with Perry, the guy proved to be a hell of a rival throughout the course of the start of my career... but if you take the Perry of the past and brought him to face me today... I could compare it to any match I've ever had with you, Carmine.
You fight like Shane Perry used to fight, but you're fighting me as I fight today... and that puts you so far out of my league that as soon as I signed my name to the contract bringing me back into this place your name dropped off the radar, and things stayed that way even after you'd managed to have your happy little placeholder title run.
You're the professional gangster with the troubled past, Carmine... that kid that no-one ever gave a chance but, despite that, managed to claw and struggle his way back up to the top and, upon getting there, felt that he'd earned everything in the world and deserved it all delivered to him on a silver fucking platter. Hell, Carmine, for about a month's time before I took that title away from you, you actually had that, too... but when I showed up, you lost it all.
I can't blame you for hating me, Carmine... I stole your dream away. If I were in your shoes, I'd hate me too; however, the difference there is I'd actually make the fucking effort to improve after the fact, not make excuses as to why I'd lost it in the first place. As far as I'm concerned, the only person you have to blame for the position you're in now is yourself, and as for this Sunday?
Yeah, hate to say it, kid, but... this won't be your chance at redemption for the shit you've pulled up 'til now. You were stupid enough to try and tangle with Alex Jay on your way into this thing in the first place and, one way or another, you know Jay isn't letting you anywhere near a win in this thing. Shit, even if he fails to hold you back, by the time you've got him off your back, you'll still have me to deal with.
And you and I both know what's going to happen if it comes to that.
Step the fuck aside, Carmine... if you ever even thought for a second you stood a chance in this thing, you'd better guess again, because you weren't ever even fucking close.
The roaring lion. The S Factor. Call yourself what you will, Carmine... but let's get one thing straight right here and now: you were never in my league to begin with. Yes, we've faced off three times, but let's face the facts here... those matches were inevitable. If nothing else, you were just there at the finish because you'd managed to avoid me up until then.
Our first showdown came when your ass tried to plow through the ranks back at Sultan and, whether you want to admit it or not, everyone in that arena that night knew they were coming to watch Pericolo take his rightful spot at the top of that tournament by the time the night was over.
Our second one came when you actually managed to best Bucky Skyler, a feat so unimpressive in and of itself that the sheer fact that it was for the NLCW Undisputed Championship may well have been the reason the NLCW fell victim to the might of the recession in the first place. Seriously, just... a world title match between the two of you sounds about as exciting as a staring contest between Maize and Stacy Jones or-- even worse-- an actual match involving Maize or Stacy Jones.
Anyway, fact remains you manged to beat Bucky for the title (woo!) and, by the time the NLCW Board of Directors decided they only needed two titles in the NLCW, I was being stripped of the Hardcore and Tag Team Titles and sent off to do my own thing. I figured, hey, I'm sitting on a Sultan win... why not cash it? Fact of the matter is, Carmine, you just happened to be the one with the title at the time I chose to do it.
So when the day came and I took your title, a third match was all-but inevitable... after-all, the ever-loveable rematch clause was in effect for you and, believing my win to be nothing more than a fluke (for the second time in a row), you set out trying to get into my head and set me up for failure in my first title defense against you.
You failed again, in the end, and... well, we're all anxiouslyawaiting how you handle your first speech in regards to our fourth little encounter here, Carmine. Will it be another hilariously cliche-ridden romp through your bravado-filled dreams of the future? Will you let us in that little extra bit on your past, on the man you used to be that grew into the boy you are today?
See, I don't really have to try hard to point out just what the fuck is wrong with you, Carmine... all I need to do is bring up a single name from the NLCW's past and it does all the talking for me: "Sugar" Shane Perry.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: you are a poor man's "Sugar" Shane Perry. You have proven yourself to be the perennial copycat of the old dog this past year and, sorry kid, that's not a high honor in the slightest. At least with Perry, the guy proved to be a hell of a rival throughout the course of the start of my career... but if you take the Perry of the past and brought him to face me today... I could compare it to any match I've ever had with you, Carmine.
You fight like Shane Perry used to fight, but you're fighting me as I fight today... and that puts you so far out of my league that as soon as I signed my name to the contract bringing me back into this place your name dropped off the radar, and things stayed that way even after you'd managed to have your happy little placeholder title run.
You're the professional gangster with the troubled past, Carmine... that kid that no-one ever gave a chance but, despite that, managed to claw and struggle his way back up to the top and, upon getting there, felt that he'd earned everything in the world and deserved it all delivered to him on a silver fucking platter. Hell, Carmine, for about a month's time before I took that title away from you, you actually had that, too... but when I showed up, you lost it all.
I can't blame you for hating me, Carmine... I stole your dream away. If I were in your shoes, I'd hate me too; however, the difference there is I'd actually make the fucking effort to improve after the fact, not make excuses as to why I'd lost it in the first place. As far as I'm concerned, the only person you have to blame for the position you're in now is yourself, and as for this Sunday?
Yeah, hate to say it, kid, but... this won't be your chance at redemption for the shit you've pulled up 'til now. You were stupid enough to try and tangle with Alex Jay on your way into this thing in the first place and, one way or another, you know Jay isn't letting you anywhere near a win in this thing. Shit, even if he fails to hold you back, by the time you've got him off your back, you'll still have me to deal with.
And you and I both know what's going to happen if it comes to that.
Step the fuck aside, Carmine... if you ever even thought for a second you stood a chance in this thing, you'd better guess again, because you weren't ever even fucking close.