Angel of Death vs Rocko Daymon

[MattPickstock]

Post any promos for the above match below...

Promos are due by Monday Oct 19, 2004 at 12:00 noon EST. All in-card promos or strats should be sent to euwc_office@yahoo.com

 

[RStrawsma]

SCENE BEGINS

(We fade into a dark set, where Rocko Daymon, standing under a single beam of light, stands before a vanity mirror. To his face, he holds a plain white mask. He’s more or less looking at the camera through the reflection than admiring himself.)

Rocko Daymon
What is it about the mystique of the mask that makes it so popular? And why is it that some people, to this day, fail to realize what an incredibly lame cliché it has truly become?

I’m sure the first time it appeared, way back in the 80’s… it was a big thing. People could not see the man behind the mask, but only the visage that it represented. It was revolutionary… and many men took these gimmicks far.

But we’re now living in the 21st century, and the idea of the “masked man” is long dead. Yet there are still those who continue to wear these symbols, as though they are afraid to expose their true selves to this world.

(Rocko drops the plaster mask. We see it fall out of the frame and heart it shatter at his feet. Now, through the mirror, he is looking at the camera.)

Rocko Daymon
In my life, I have worn several masks… both physical and mental. Some came from poorly thought-out gimmicks, and others came from personal problems that I won’t even begin to get into here and now.

It was Captain Ahab who said, “All lives are but pasteboard masks.” All men hide behind the illusion of what they WANT to be, and what they want to be perceived as. But the drawback of that is that a shield so great can quickly become a shell… and the shell will eventually become your prison. It is not uncommon to see several men—professional wrestlers, for that matter—as people chained to what they believe to be their identities. Eventually, they’ll never be able to escape that image… and they’ll have that mask pasted to their face every where they go.

It took me nearly six years… but I’ve finally taken off all the masks, and realized who I truly am: Rochester Vincent Daymon. I’m not an avenger, or a warrior, or a competitor… I’m just a balls-to-the-wall kind of guy who wants to put his talent to a good use.

But I look at my opponent, and I don’t see the same. He wears the same white mask—one that doesn’t succeed at all in intimidating me—that he will forever be linked to. When Angel of Death retires… how will he be known? Will he be known by his real name? Will he be remembered as a friend, or possible family man?

The answer is no: Everybody will remember Angel of Death as that man with the mask.

(Now he turns from the mirror to the camera.)

Rocko Daymon
You happen to be one of the most accomplished men in this federation, AOD. Even a rook like me can see that as a fact. You’ve been decorated with several championships in your tenure, and stand as one of EUWC’s prime veterans. That sort of status is golden, AOD… but even as a professional wrestling legend, you’ll always be tied to the mask you wear.

It’s hard to believe that man who is imprisoned such as yourself has done so much. You live without knowing much about yourself… and perhaps less about your opponents.

But I am truth, Angel of Death… everything you see here now is all you need to know. No masks… no costumes… no gimmicks, or illusions, or distractions in that manner. I am the simple man: a husband, a father, a blue-collar. A poet, a thinker, a professional-****ing-wrestler.

If that isn’t enough to compete against a man who has relied on HIS MASK as well as his talent to get as far as he’s come, then I can safely say I’ve lost faith in today’s professional wrestling market.

(He takes a few steps forward, away from the mirror, plaster crunching under his feet.)

Rocko Daymon
Since my coming in EUWC, I’ve successfully defeated two big names in this federation. The first was the former 52 Wild Champion Evol, who I beat in spite of his surprise attack at the start of the match. The second was the former World Champion Damian Stone, who was such a hack in the ring that I didn’t even bother finishing him off.

You can’t tell me that this doesn’t worry you a bit, Angel of Death. Two well-established men in EUWC have toppled under the weight of my abilities, and you happen to be the next man in my path. Beating you could escalate me to new heights… which does only more to feed my determination. Failure is not an option…

…not to a man who defines himself by wearing a mask.

(He shakes his head and turns away.)

Rocko Daymon
I wait to hear what you would have to say… but if you don’t get the opportunity, then I want to say to you now that I wish you all the luck in the world in beating me.

I want somebody to stop me… I want someone to make the EFFORT, as opposed to simply wrestling for their own gain. I want this, because I want to prove to everybody that no matter how hard anybody tries, I won’t let myself be stopped.

I just will not accept it…

(Fade to black as he steps out of frame.)

SCENE ENDS

 

[AOD]

Not much to know, to be honest ...

(Fade in on a gravesite marked with an inexpensive tombstone. On the tombstone is inscribed "Jane Doe ? - 1979". Sitting against a tree nearby is Angel of Death, holding a old-looking piece of paper.)

AOD: Welcome to the EUWC Rocko. You've made quite an impression. Yes, facing you is a daunting thought, considering your meteoric rise. When speaking about me, however, I found it intriguing that you would focus on my face paint, and my choice to wear it. You say that in "hiding" behind it, it will become what I am instead of the real me. Let me give you a little history lesson.

(He holds up the paper to the camera. It is a birth certificate, labelled "Kingston General Hospital". Under birthdate, it reads "July 20, 1979, 12:00 AM". Under Mother's Name it reads "Jane Doe" and under Father's Name it reads "Unknown". For a given name, it reads simply "Dante" in a failing script. It is signed with a simple "X".)

AOD: This piece of paper, and this tombstone are all I have of my true beginnings. A woman too battered to speak, with no identification on her, staggers into Kingston General Hospital, very pregnant. While in the emergency room, she delivers a seven pound, five ounce boy. With her last remaining strength, she scrawls what would basically be her last known words. My name, and an X for a signature. She would die shortly after delivery. Not knowing who she was, there wasn't much the hospital could do, and since there wasn't anyone coming to claim me, that meant that I would have to be put up for adoption.

(Fade to another gravesite, this time with two much more elaborate tombstones. The first one reads "Patrick Dean McLean 1966 - 1995" and the second reads "Jessica Frances McLean nee Parker 1967 - 1995". Angel of Death is sitting at a bench right across from the tombstones, still holding the old birth certificate.)

AOD: Let's fast forward a little, shall we? To the man I thought I was for seventeen years. Patrick Dean McLean the second. While not exactly living in the lap of luxury, we weren't poor by any means. A happy trio, my adoptive parents and I, until both were ripped from me in a car accident that I used to blame myself for. You see, Rocko, I was driving the car when we had the accident. Both of my parents were killed, and I escaped with a broken leg, broken arm, and severe lacerations to my head and neck. It was this self-imposed blame that drove me to violence, and the kindness of a wrestling instructor who was able to help me focus my energy into professional wrestling instead of random violence on the streets. It was he who introduced me to the thought of painting my face as an added effect for my character. Not to mask who I was, but to enhance it.

(Black Widow steps up behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder.)

AOD: It is with that purpose that my wife and I paint our faces. It isn't a mask behind which to hide ourselves, but a magnifying glass we hold up to us, amplifying our own unique personalities. You wonder if I know who I am, Rocko?

(He stands, and stares into the camera.)

AOD: My name is Dante. Adoptive name Patrick Dean McLean Junior. Married name Dante Donaldson. I am a husband, brother in law, son to three dead parents, son in law to two alive parents. I am a former LCW and EUWC World Heavyweight Champion. A ten time former LCW World Tag Team Champion. A former EUWC World Tag Team Champion. A former NeWA World Cruiserweight Champion and three time LCW World Cruiserweight Champion. A former EUWC Hardcore Champion and two time EUWC US Champion, and a former NWA-F World Six Man Tag Team Champion. At the age of twenty five, and after seven years as a professional wrestler, I am one of the most decorated opponents you'll ever face, anywhere. You certainly have your work cut out for you, Rocko. But don't ever question whether or not I know who I am. Because if I have anything to do with it, I will be the one who makes you stare at the ceiling as the referee counts to three. See you at Main Frame, Rocko.

(Black Widow walks around the bench to join her husband, and they embrace as we fade to black.)

 

[RStrawsma]

SCENE BEGINS

(We return to a black set… only now, instead of a mirror, Rocko Daymon is seated upon a folding chair, his legs crossed and put upon a blank television that rests in front of him. In this relaxed state, he folds his arms behind his head, looking to the stage lights above, which we can’t see.)

Rocko Daymon
Touching story, “Dante”… truly heart-breaking. But would you be offended if I asked for the point?

If I wanted to, I could give you my own life story. I could tell you about my abusive father, and my trouble with the mafia. I could go into detail about the several long years I spent on the road, before the age of twenty. I could resurface ancient memories concerning my wife and illegitimate son, and the drug problems that came as a result.

Hell, if I wanted to, I could even point out how in MY time of professional wrestling—which isn’t much shorter than your own—I’ve accomplished just as much, if not more, in terms of titles, feuds, and matches throughout various federations.

(He sits up and leans forward, looking into the camera with chilling sobriety.)

Rocko Daymon
But I won’t, for three reasons, all of which could be applied to your own biography: First, you don’t care, and I wouldn’t want to waste your time. Second, there’s really no point in doing so, as it has nothing to do with you and I meeting in the ring at Main Frame. And third, and probably most important… I would HATE to lower myself to YOUR level.

Your promo wasted five minutes of my time, Angel of Death. Your “history lesson”, as enlightening as it was, really doesn’t say anything about you OR the mask you wear… nor does it have anything to do with the way I will tear you apart in the ring.

Now here’s a lesson worth learning…

(He comes to his feet and walks over in front of the television set, pulling a remote control from his leather jacket. When the set is turned on, highlights of his performances in his matches against Damian Stone and Evol begin to play.)

Rocko Daymon
In spite of getting the jump on me, a former 52 Wild Champion was crushed by my superior talent. Additionally, in spite of being a former World Champion, a person hailed as a “hardcore legend” was resorted to nothing more than a worthless, bleeding sack of crap that couldn’t even come to stand within his natural element—OUTSIDE the ring.

Two decorated men, Evol and Damian Stone, have fallen… and those are two milestones which I’d hardly call “meteoric”, by your lingo. That’s just scratching the surface. I have yet to shine, amigo.

(He presses another button, and we flip to various highlights of AOD’s career in recent EUWC matches.)

Rocko Daymon
Going into this match, I understand the challenge will be greater. That can only be expected when facing off against a man as experienced as yourself. When the challenge rises, so must the effort. I will work harder for victory, and do everything I can to cripple one of EUWC’s most notable talents.

It CAN happen, AOD… don’t ever assume that it couldn’t. The reason why is because you and I are very different. I prefer to be myself, and you choose to live through a gimmick. You explain the whole “facepaint” thing as a “magnifying glass”. If that’s your bag, then roll with it…

(He turns to the camera, both of his thumbs point into his chest.)

Rocko Daymon
Because it’s not mine. I don’t NEED a magnifying glass for my talent or persona—it’s greater than yours just the way it is.

(As the footage comes to a still shot of Angel of Death standing victoriously in the ring, Daymon turns to the TV and puts a boot into it, breaking the screen instantly and tipping the set over onto its back. He gives the camera a brief look of intensity, and walks out of the frame.)

SCENE ENDS