Beast vs. Troy Douglas

[SteelCitySon]

Second round matchup from the World Title tournament.

 

[CuseTroy]

Phase Two...

FADE IN...

The David L. Lawrence Convention Center in Pittsburgh, PA, site of EPW Aggression Week Two. Empire Pro superstar Troy Douglas sits in his locker room in the bowels of the building, a towel draped over the back of his sweaty neck. He has since changed from his ring gear, and now wears a pair of denim jeans and a Troy Douglas "End of the Road" black t-shirt. He looks tired from a night of competition, but content with the result of moving on into Round 2 of the Unified World Title Tournament. He may not have pinned Mike Diamond, but Troy's still hanging around, waiting for his moment. He knows now it may have come.

Troy Douglas:

"Here we are, Beast. You and me, the way it should have been at the start of this thing. The weakest link is eliminated, and now we can get to the good stuff. You and I, we put on a good show out there tonight. I gotta admit, when you and I stared down, we probably had the same idea. To get rid of Mikey-wikey and move on to the real deal, and hell, maybe intimidate the other guy at the same time. Well, its over now, and you pinned the jackass. You pulled one over on me, for sure. But, you know something? Come here, I want you to hear this REAL bad. After you drove Diamond into the mat with that Absolution finisher of yours, I got one thing to say..."

Troy beckons for the camera to come closer, and the camerama complies. He approaches the camera, a smile on his face, and stares straight at the lens.

Troy Douglas(whispering):

"I AIN'T SCARED YET, BUDDY."

He returns to his padded folding chair, the confident smile adorning his face.

Troy Douglas:

"It's given that you're damn good, Beast. Hell, every newshack in the business is outing Beast as the hot ticket in wrestling right now. Everywhere you compete, you quickly become the 'main attraction'. In this 'what-have-you-done-for-me-lately?' kind of world, your type is honored beyond a man's wildest dreams. You can come in and make a swift impact, take a company by storm, and make a bundle of cash all the while. You proved to me at Aggression that you deserve all the accolades. However, you ain't yet given me one damn reason to be scared of ya."

"Last week, during our little back and forth, you said that my history of injuries just meant that I was vulnerable, that I could be beaten. Well, in that ring, you didn't show me anything that proved you were Bruno F*cking Sammartino either. Size, talent, hype, none of that means absolutely anything unless you can back yourself up here, and here."

Troy taps his ribcage directly over the heart and then his right temple in sequence.

Troy Douglas:

"You gotta ask yourself, Beast, if you got it in ya to hold the highest honor in the world of wrestling, the moniker of World Champion. Plenty of talented guys go to the wayside if they don't have the intangibles to stand on top of the mountain and be the figurehead of an entire federation. You've done alright so far, but this is the real big time Beast. This is the time where guts and heart mean a whole lot more than where you've been or where you think you may be going. That's where I've got the one-up on you, Beast. Going through hell and coming back will do that for a guy. I'm not the kind of guy whose gonna stay down anymore."

"For four long years Beast, four years I've waited to get my hands back on a world title. Sure, I've picked up my share of secondary straps along the way, but nothing compares to that rush I felt when I hoisted that belt up the first time. Still have it to, cause the damn company shut down 3 months after I won it because of some embezzlement in the front office. But that's old news, and right now I'm starving to get back to the top. It's my one goal, Beast, to be the big man in wrestling once again."

"All the stuff I've gone through the last four years, all the loss, all the injuries, all the messed up sh*t that's happened to me since I last won a world title, that don't mean a flip to me or anybody. All that matters is that spot at the top of the ladder. I'm not gonna let you pull one over on me like you just did. No, it's my best chance to get back to the pinnacle, and I won't give anyone the chance to stop me. Not Maelstrom, not Suicide, nor Rob Sampson, Christian Sands, or Karl Brown. And especially not you Beast."

"Things are now in motion that were always bound to happen, Beast. You and I, we are now two speeding trains heading recklessly towards each other. Last week, you called me a roadblock to your success. This week, at Aggression, when you and I finally get into that squared circle face to face, I'll be more than a roadblock."

"For you, Beast, I ain't just a roadblock, I'm the end of the road. That's my bit, see y'all further on up the road."

...FADE TO BLACK

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Let's do this again, shall we?

Scene fades in to the arena in Providence, Rhode Island, the site of A1E's next Tuesday Night Warfare show. We're taken into Beast's locker room, where he's just entered and is unpacking his gear. The camera catches him pulling his A1E Tag Team Chmapionship title out of his bag, and he sets it up on a table as if it's on display. There's a knock on the locker room door.

Beast: Come in!

The door slowly opens, and a young man enters the room, dressed in jeans and golf shirt. He's carrying some kind of recorder slung around his shoulder, and he has a microphone in his hand.

Beast: I don't believe we've met.

Man: Steve Daly from Pro Wrestling Informant. It's a pleasure to meet you, Beast.

The two men cordially shake hands.

Beast: Likewise. What can I do for you, Steve? A few last minute words on the big tag title match tonight?

Steve: Actually... no. I came to talk to you about your match against Troy Douglas in Empire Pro.

Beast: Whoa. (laughs) Talk about treading on enemy territory.

Steve goes white.

Beast: Nah, I'm just kidding you. I won't let the wolves get you. What's on your mind?

Steve: (calmin himself) Well, you're the first A1E wrestler to hop on board and join up with Empire Pro. What helped you make that decision, and how are things working out wrestling for two major organizations?

Beast: You know, Steve, it's a blast. Sure, there's a few more bumps and bruises every week, but it's worth it. I get to keep the skill level up by wrestling new people every week. It's a lot of fun. As for what made my mind up... well, at first, I wasn't sure whether I could do it, with all the travelling and such, but that was just another challenge for me to overcome. Plus, Mr. Freeman and everyone in the Empire Pro organization has treated me with such respect, and that was good to see. So once I had a chance to sit down talk with the Empire Pro staff, my mind was made up inside of five minutes. The A1E bosses may not necessarily like it, but that's their fault for not giving me an exclusive contract, isn't it?

Steve: (laughs) Sure is, Beast, sure is. Now, onto your match this week. You're facing Troy Douglas in the second round of the World Title tournament to crown a brand new, inaugural Champion. What are your thoughts on your match this week.

Beast: Well, Steve, I saw what Troy had to say.

First off, Troy, let me give you a piece of advice about personal hygiene. Generally, it's a good idea for you to shower *before* you get changed after a match. All that sweat running all over your signature t-shirt. No wonder you're such a hit with the ladies.

But what's really funny, is that Troy walks on camera, and he acts like he actually *earned* his spot in this match. The weakest link, Troy? Hell, it looked to me like I could have pinned either one of you at Aggression. I had you both in a spot where I could have chose either one of you to pin and send the other into the second round. Why did I choose to pin Diamond? We'll never know. It was a spur of the moment thing. I could have easily just tossed his ass over the top rope, and pinned you. But that like comparing apples to apples. I had both of them beat, and the fact of the matter was it was me that won the match.

But if Troy wants to claim he earned his spot in the second round lying on his ass on the arena floor, then more power to him.

When we stared each other down, Troy, yeah, sure, maybe I did feel like working with you to take out Mike Diamond. And in the end, that's what happened.

But don't forget for a single second what happened between us in the ring at Aggression after you stumbled your ass across the ring and ran into me. You got knocked on your kiester by the stiffest clothesline in the business, and then I tossed you over the top rope like yesterday's garbage. Sure, you got your little DDT in on me, but who's the one that took advantage of their offense? Me. Who won the match? Me. Who ended up on the arena floor sitting on his ass?

You.

But after all that, I gotta give you some props. I dropped Mike Diamond on his head twice while you were watching from the comfort of the cement, and you say you're not scared. I gotta hand it to ya, ya got balls.

But really, Troy...

I DON'T CARE.

I couldn't give a rat's ass if you got down on your knees and begged me in front of the entire audience for me not to do the same to you. I couldn't care if you never even blinked while I planted Diamond like the weed he is. And I really couldn't give a sh*t if you watched it and laughed your ass off.

Intimidation is a very, very small part of getting one over on your opponent, Troy. Maybe you've been doing it for years, and all the rest of your opponents have been folding like cheap lawn chairs in front of you. The only thing is, anyone that's been in competiton with half a brain knows it's all a psych job.

Congratulations, you have half a brain.

You don't have to be scared for me to beat you, Troy. You don't have to be shaking in your boots as we stand across the ring from each other. And I certainly won't mind if there's not a stream of piss running down your leg when we're in the ring, cause frankly, I'm sure you stink enough as it is without showering after our match.

But the point of all this is, is that I don't care.

All I have to do is outwrestle you. And that's something I'm extremely confident I'm going to do. Your back isn't going to care if you're scared when they fold under a suplex. Your knee isn't going to care if you're scared when it almost snaps under one of my submissions. And your head and neck certainly aren't going to care if you're scared when I drop you on it.

And by the time I pin you, and the official counts to three, it'll be too late to be scared.

You know, Steve, there's a reason why everyone in pro wrestling circles is talking about me. There's a reason why people from wrestling web sites are showing up at one promotion's events to talk to me about an entirely different promotion altogether.

There's a reason why everywhere I go, PPV buy rates and television ratings go through the roof. And there's a reason why I'm the main attraction, and why I get the accolades.

And it sure as hell isn't because I have a great marketing department working for me. What you see is what you get, Troy, and what you see in front of you is a hell of a great wrestler that's come to stake his claim. It's not the hype. Dan Ryan knows it. Paul Freeman knows it - that's why he asked me to come here in the first place. Mike Diamond certainly knows it after Aggression, and now you do as well.

Except for this week, it's going to get a little more personal between you and I.

You're in the way of something I want. And I plan on eliminating you to get what I want.

I find it funny how you question my resolve. You question my intelligence.

Beast gets a little wound up.

Beast: You don't know sh*t about me, son. You don't have the right.

You haven't watched me fight for my family. You haven't watched me fight for what I believe is right. You haven't watched me go toe to two with one of the baddest motherf*ckers this industry has ever known for almost 45 minutes in a Cell, and willingly dive off the top of the cell cradling a steel chair to bash my opponent's head in, all because I wanted a title. You haven't seen me put my career on the line! You haven't seen me fight four and five guys at a time to do the right thing!

DON'T YOU EVER QUESTION MY DESIRE!!

Don't you EVER question the fact that I put everything I have on the line night in and night out in order to be the absolute best!

Each and every night I ask myself if I have what it takes to get through my match. Every day I ask myself if I have what it takes to travel all over the country 5 days a week, maintain a relationship with a female wrestler who travels almost as much as I do, and then maintain the quality of my wrestling on top of all that.

And even and every time that I ask myself those questions, Troy, the answer is a huge resounding YES!

And when I ask myself if I'm ready to be a World Champion, there isn't a split second worth of hesitation for that same YES to go running through my head. I've been in this business just a hair shorter than you have, Troy, and I've been close a couple times. Damn close.

But that was at the start of my career. I had the shot before I was ready.

Now, three years later, I've fought night in and night out, beating anyone and everyone that's been put in front of me, including you, and I ask myself that same question.

Are you ready, Beast? Is this your time?

And time and again, it's the same thing. Yes, I'm ready. Yes, I'm going to be the Empire Pro World Champion. Yes, I'm ready to put this entire promotion on my shoulders, and carry it to heights people never thought it could reach.

But then, I hear it from you, Troy. You want to be Champion too. That's fine. Everyone wants to be Champion. You go on and on about how getting put out of action for months makes you a better man, and in the same sentence, you question my mind. Tell me something, Troy, if you're such a brilliant mastermind, where was your brain when you were off getting yourself hurt?

A real wrestler, a real Champion doesn't allow him to be put in the position to get himself hurt. Sure, accidents happen, but even then, smart athletes don't allow them to be put in the spot for an accident to happen. For me to get hurt in a match, I've got to allow my opponent to catch me off guard and do something to me physically. That's something I haven't done in the past, and that's certainly not anything I plan on doing anytime soon.

So what's your excuse? How did you get hurt? Slip off the top rope? That's something you could have prevented. Allow your opponent to execute a monster move on you? You could have prevented that, too.

If you were good enough.

But, seeing as how it happened, I've gotta assume that you're just not quite there yet.

But, in all fairness, congratulations on winning that one title, Troy. It showed you were the best in that federation. Not everyone can say they've done that. But don't worry. I'm not the kinda guy that plays the politics and keeps others from getting their shot. If you earn it, you'll get it. I don't plan on holding you down.

Wait - check that - I will hold you down.

For about 3 seconds.

I don't care that you've waited four long years to get your hands on another world title. That doesn't matter to me in the least. As far as I'm concerned, you've waited four years, so you're going to mind waiting just another few weeks to get your shot after I beat your ass this week at Aggression.

That rush belongs to me. That spot at the top of the ladder in Empire Pro is mine. I'm going to prove to Mr. Freeman that he did the right thing by bringing me here. I'm going to prove to all my fans that all their support is appreciated. I'm going to prove to myself that I have what it takes to be the absolute best.

And, I'm going to prove to Dan Ryan that he picked the wrong guy to f*ck with.

We may be two speeding trains, Troy, but I'm the bullet train racing along and you're the little electric one that people collect and put on display in their homes. I'm going to roll right over you, and show you that you're not the end of the road.

You're going to learn that I don't always follow the beaten path, Troy, and while you might consider yourself the end all be all of organized travel, I'm going to create my own path.

The one that leads right to the Empire Pro World Heavyweight Championship.

Steve: Beast, thank you very much for this interview and your time. I'll let you get back to your preparations.

Beast: No problem, Steve. Anytime.

The scene fades to black as Steven exits the locker room and Beast begins his stretching program.

 

[CuseTroy]

The Year From Hell

FADE IN...

The camera fades in on the Philadelphia, PA apartment of EPW wrestler Troy Douglas. The 27 year old veteran sits stretched out on a comfortable sofa, a small black book resting open on his raised right knee. He grabs a pen from the coffee table next to him, pulls the book to his chest, and begins to write. The camera swings around to behind Troy, so that we can see what he writes as he writes it.

Troy Douglas(V/O):

February 4, 2003...

One year.

It's been one year since it happened.

One year since it all went to hell, since everything I had left in my life was unjustly taken from me.

I can still remember how I found out. It was just after 3 in the morning in Edinburgh, where I was staying in preparation for a match against Rob Sampson. My cell phone woke me up with its jarring ringing, but when I saw the call was from my soon-to-be father-in-law, I picked it up. The conversation still rings clear as crystal in my memory.

"Hey, Alan, don't you know that it's three in the morning over here? Alan? Are you there Alan?"

"Oh my God, Troy, I'm so sorry."

"What? What happened? Is something wrong?"

"Lauren and your dad, they're gone."

"Wh-what do you mean they're gone? You mean like they're out and you haven't been able to reach them?"

"No, Troy. Th-th-they're dead."

"No. I won't believe that. I can't believe that."

"It's true, son. Lauren was visiting your dad when somebody broke in and tried to rob the house. When they put up a struggle, he shot them each twice. We just got the word ten minutes ago that they'd died."

"Oh no. Not again. First mom, then Chris, now this. There's nothing left. I've got no one."

"You've got me and Liz, Troy."

"Thanks. You two have always treated me like a son. I-I'll be home as soon as possible. We've got a while until the event. I'll be in Greensboro tomorrow night."

"We'll see you soon, Troy."

Sh*t, how was I supposed to go on after that?

Now, it's been one year of psychological and physical torture, and I'm back at the same place that I began. Alone, save for the man standing across from me in the ring and the scant few friends I have time for now. But now, I'm focused, and I've finally gotten past the loss. Not fully. No, it'll always be there in the back of my mind, driving me. But, I can move on without feeling like I'm ignoring the memory of my father and my fiancee.

One year, and now I start again.

Troy Alexander Douglas
Philadelphia, PA

Troy closes the book and rests it on the coffee table. The hint of a tear can be seen in his eyes, but he quickly sucks it up and focuses on the camera.

Troy Douglas:

"I'm not a happy man right now Beast."

"A year ago today, some psycho took the lives of the people I cared about most for no good g*d damned reason. Pretty much everyone who follows this business knows the sh*t I've been through since that happened, so I won't open up that can of worms one more time. But, suffice it to say, today wasn't all smiling little puppy dogs and rainbows for me. So, I gotta tell ya, Beast, thank you."

"When I turned on the TV today and saw you doing your interview up in Rhode Island, I saw you get real angry at some of the things I said after the last Aggression. That's a real good thing, Beast, because now you know how I feel every day. I don't have the luxury of being the 'IT' guy in the business right now. No, I have to fight my demons every f*cking day just to wake up in the morning. For some guys, that would be enough to make them give it up and throw it all away."

"Not me. Not anymore."

"You spoke rather openly about the exploits that show that you have the heart and the brains to be the best. Hey, I'll admit I'm no expert on your history, Beast. That's impressive what you've done. But, you ain't the only one whose prove it in the ring over and over again."

"I've done it too, Beast."

"I took Dan Ryan to his absolute limit 4 weeks after I had my ACL repaired. I beat Rob Sampson to a bloody pulp in a no decision 6 days after my father and fiancee died. I survived 10 men, 10 of the best wrestlers on this planet, last year, and I came out on top as the champion. So don't you say I haven't earned my spot in this match, Beast. I've got the same claim as you to that world championship, and until you and I finish our business at Aggression, we're on a level playing field. After that, win or lose, you have my respect. But, I'll make sure that every time you step into the ring after that, you absolutely remember the time that Troy Douglas took you to the very limits of your being."

"You said that, if you wanted to, you could have pinned me just as easily as you pinned Mike Diamond. I've got a couple of problems with that one, Beast."

"First, Mike Diamond was a plug in Pittsburgh, and he wasn't advancing no matter who pinned him."

"Second, I gave it to both you and Mike Diamond just as much as you did. I hit him with the Broken Dream, and had I not wanted to just get it over with and get down to the real business, I would have gladly taken my shots at you."

"Thirdly, and most importantly. If you could have pinned me so easily, Beast, why didn't you try? I wanted Diamond out because I wanted you and I to go one on one in the next round, to see who really deserves that spot in the semifinals. But Beast, if you could have so easily pinned me, I just got one question..."

"Why didn't you?"

"I can't begin to play psychiatrist here, so I'll leave it at that. But, you'll get your chance at the next Aggression. You'll be there, trying to keep proving that Dan Ryan shouldn't be f*cking with you, and that you're the best this business has right now. Me? I'll be right across from you, fighting to keep what I have left. That World Unified Title will complete me as a person, it is the one thing I need more than anything in the world right now."

"I don't plan on letting you hold me down at all, Beast. I don;t plan on being pinned, or submitting, or letting you get into the semis at all. I want that title with every bit of my being, I'm sure I want it just as much as you do Beast. I won't wait for someone else to graciously give me a title shot. No, I'm climbing the ladder to the top RIGHT NOW!! At Aggression, I prove it to you, I prove it to Paul Freeman and Dan Ryan, to Scooter McGufferin and all the internet smart marks, I prove it to the great fans and competitors here in Empire Pro, and I prove it to the memories of my father, my mother, and my fiancee. You may be the bullet train, Beast, but I'm the train that'll be on the tracks after Aggression. You can take that to the bank."

"That's my part, I leave the next move to you. See you at the end of the road."

Troy grabs a remote control and clicks on a CD player across the room. As the beginning strains of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" begin to play, the cameras begin to peel away as the scene comes to a conclusion.

...FADE TO BLACK

 

[MarcusWestcott]

The Alpha Male

Scene fades in to a hotel room somewhere in Philadelphia. It's night time, the room is dimly lit, and appears to be empty. The bed is nicely made, although there's a pair of shoes near the foot of the bed on the floor. A voice comes from off to the left, just out of camera range.

Voice: Damn, it's nice to just stop and look once in a while.

The camera pans over to the left to see an open sliding door out to the balcony, a cool winter breeze blowing the curtains to and fro on either side of the door. Beast stands out on the balcony, leaning on the railing, looking out at the lights of the city. He doesn't turn around as he speaks, he just continues to look out over the city.

Beast: It's nice to have some time to yourself where you can just stand here and take everything in.

Especially when it's winter, and the air is so crisp and clean. It helps to clear up your mind, to help you think - it gives you clarity of thought.

I like to use these times to reflect on the past, to think of all the great times and special moments that I've experienced. To think about things that are happening right now in my life, and how to approach them, and what impact those choices may have on my future.

Times like this, times like right now are very special, as with my travel schedule and working committments, they happen rarely, so I make the best of them I can. I choose to think about the great things that have happened in my life, and in the lives of those special to me.

Now, I'm not a heartless bastard by any stretch of the imagination, but there's a point where you've gotta stop thinking about the hurt, and focusing on the joy. Troy, I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I understand the fact that you've been through a lot of sh*t in your life. You've fought a lot of adversity, and you've sratched and clawed your way back and gotten your life back on track, for the most part. Now, I don't pretend to understand your situation - I'm not going to stand here and give you the old "I know how you feel" bullsh*t to try and make you feel better. Not at all. Because I don't know how you feel. I've been through a lot of crap in my life and career, but I don't know what it's like to lose my family. I've been blessed that they're all still here and in great health. I don't know the pain you've been through.

But what I *do* know, is that it doesn't do anyone any good to sit around and let the past turn your life into an emotional roller coaster. Let me give you a tip on healing, Troy. Don't sit around and think about the bad parts. I don't mean to take away anything of what happened to your family - what happened was horrific and tragic - no one should have to be put through that - and you have my sympathies... but stop and think about it, Troy. Don't dwell on the fact that your family was gunned down.

Remember instead all the great times. Celebrate their lives. Celebrate everything they did that was great and special. Remember all the love they gave and you gave them. Remember all the joy.

Concentrate on those special moments. And most importantly, remember that they will always be with you as long as you keep a place for them in your memories and in your heart.

I know it's easier said than done. But just know that they wouldn't want to cause you any harm through your memories of them. They'd want themselves to be remembered for all the good times, not that they were taken from you.

A big gust of cold winter air blasts by, sending Beast's long hair flowing backwards, the curtains billow out, but he just stands there, unmoving.

Beast: And again, I don't want to sound like a cold, unfeeling monster... that would make me no better than the sonofab*tch that took them from you in the first place...

But the cold hard truth is, Troy, that once you and I step into that ring at Aggression...

I don't care.

The second we step through those ropes, Troy, you are the enemy. Hell, we could be best buddies and go out for beers tonight before we get down to business, but once we climb in that ring and the bell sounds, I'll take your head off. I don't care if you've been mugged, beaten an shot at yourself, I am going to show no pity for you in the ring. Hell, I don't care if you've been tossed around the eye of a tornado, or you've stood at ground zero while a bomb's been dropped and you survived, saving 20 others along with you. You may be the world's biggest hero, or you may be the world's biggest sympathy case.

You can't ignore what the past has done to a man... you can't change that, and you can't alter what he's become because of it.

But, when you enter that arena... when you walk down that ramp, and when you step between those ropes, all bets are off. No matter what your past, you become public enemy #1. You become what stands in my way of becoming the first ever Empire Pro World Champion.

And what stands in my way must be eliminated.

That's not good news for you, Troy.

You saw me get riled up when you question my heart and my desire for this business. You saw me get angry when my very being was questioned. I don't like being second guessed. And that's not my problem, Troy, that's yours.

That's called passion. That's called a sense of drive, a sense of initiative, the will to get things done and the will and the want to be the absolute best. And just think, Troy, you did all that with just a few words. Dan Ryan was surprised when I exploded when he questioned the integrity of my work in A1E. You saw how I got
all fired up when he questioned that promotion itself.

This should be a lesson to you, Troy, but I don't think it's getting through to you. I am a man full of spirit, full of passion. Filled with a competitive drive, the heart and the will to get through anything, the desire to be the very best in our business, the guts to withstand anything thrown at me. The guts to take all the punishment and keep on going until I win.

That's the difference between you and me, Troy. That's the reason that I get fired up over a few "small words". That's the reason why last week, it was me that was doing interview after interview in two promotions, because I am committed, because I am driven... while you showed up for 5 minutes and was never heard from again. That's the difference why small things drive me to continually prove myself, while you are the epitome why Toastmasters was invented. I am passionate about all things, and here you are this week, talking about the one defining moment in your life, the one thing that has driven you more than any other with the passion and fire of a Lance Storm celebration speech. Where's the yelling? Where's the screaming? Where's things flying around the room and smashing all over the place? Good God, man, if someone had taken my family, hell, if it happened to any other man on the face of this planet, they'd be
going ballistic.

But maybe the truth is, all the passion's been sucked out of you. Maybe you keep trying to motivate yourself with the hatred and the anger, but pal, it ain't working.

So what's going to happen in the ring, Troy? If you got me all fired up over a few words, what's going to happen when we step in the ring and you punch me in the face? What's going to happen in that ring when you make me fight back?

What's going to happen when you *really* piss me off?

I'll tell you.

I'm going to toss you all around that ring like a bloody rag doll, and when the time comes, I'm going to drop you on your head and pin you for the 1, 2, 3, and move on to the next round of this tournament.

Face it, Troy. You and I weren't built from the same mold. They made me, and then the damned thing fell apart, and you got the short end of the stick.

Especially in the brains department.

You can't figure out why I pinned Diamond instead of you? Sure, I said that I could've pinned either one of you. I was in control. Total control. Diamond was down, and I had free reign to do to you what I wanted to.

But think about that for a moment. You were fresher than Diamond was. It's a simple case of calculated risk. Do I take the guy that's already had his ass kicked, or do I take the chance - however small it was - of hitting a maneuver on you and then going for a pin - even when you still had a chance to counter that maneuver and then take the offensive on me. It all goes back to what I said last time, Troy, that real Champions are thinking Champions, and mistakes are only made when you allow yourself to make one. So, it was a no brainer - I tossed you out of the ring and eliminated that chance for error, and then dropped Diamond on his head for the win.

You don't need to be a psychiatrist, or a rocket scientist or brain surgeon to understand that.

You got one thing right, Troy, I'll definitely be at Aggression. However, there is going to be no "try" involved, Troy. To quote the most famous little green man ever created in sci-fi - "Do or do not. There is no try."

I'm going to be the one "doing".

You and I both want this title, Troy, but for different reasons. You want it because you feel it's going to magically fill some missing part of your person and somehow make your life complete. That you're a lesser man because you don't have it. Let me tell you something Troy. A man that has accepted himself for who he is doesn't need some object to make his life complete.

No, Troy, my life is already complete. I'm happy with who I am, where I've been and what I've done. I'm confident in my abilities and what I can accomplish. I don't need the World Title to do that for me. I want the World Title to show that I am the best at what I do. I want that World Title to make everyone stand up and take notice. I don't need it to make me a better person or a better wrestler. I want it for everything that it brings.

So now that we've established just who the Alpha Male and who the lesser man is in this match, Troy, maybe it'll be that much easier for you to accept me going on to the next round.

One thing for damned sure is, regardless of your past or what you've done to get here, I'm not going to regret taking from you the one thing that can complete that miserable existence of yours.

Not in the least.

The only thing I'll be taking to the bank is the winner's share of the purse.

The camera fades to black as Beast continues to look over the night sky.

 

[CuseTroy]

The Last Straw

FADE IN...

It's a rainy night this February 5 in Philadelphia. In his Center City apartment, Troy Douglas sits near the window, watching the rain fall on the city below. On a table at his side rests a closed paperback book, "Seabiscuit" by Laura Hillenbrand. Troy reclines in his chair, staring blankly into the Philadelphia night. As a bolt of lightning illuminates the cityscape, Troy closes the window shade and turns to the interior of the apartment. A fixed angry glare is on his face as he focuses directly onto the camera. He speaks, attempting to stay lucid but bolts of anger coming through throughout.

Troy Douglas:

You just don't get it, do ya Beast?

Sure, I could be all over Empire Pro television yelling and screaming about how I'm so angry that some cruel bastard killed the two people closest to me. Sure I could do that, but that would defeat everything I'd accomplished over the last year. I got a lifetime's worth of angry screaming out of me in the hour after I got the news. I spent four and a half months getting that out of my system, learning how to cope with loss, learning how to be calm in the face of my opponents provocations. I've had a lot of chances to burst in the last year, and I've held back for the sake of my own mental health. If I got too angry, I didn't know what I'd do. No, I haven't snapped yet. I haven't let the rage get the better of me. Yet.

You know what I say to *that* now, Beast?

F*CK CALM!!!!

Troy stands up and angrily shoves his desk chair into the next room.

You're my last straw, Beast. You've made me realize that the ONLY way I'm gonna get the best of you is by submitting to that rage for just a couple of minutes. You're good, Beast, but you have ABSOLUTELY. NO. F*CKING. IDEA what I'm gonna be throwing at you at the Wachovia Center. Everything I've ever felt, every minute emotion, every iota of anger that I can summon, it will be directed at you at Aggression. This is the end of Troy Douglas being the pushover of the wrestling world. My time starts at Aggression.

You wanna come in and call me the lesser man in this match? Back it up in the ring. The right way. One on one, the way it was meant to be. If you're still standing after everything I'm planning to throw your way, THEN you'll be the better man. Until then, you give me the respect I have earned.

You do NOT belittle who I am.

When you call me boring, when you call me the lesser man, you don't just spit on me, Beast. You spit on my mother, my father, my grandparents who survived 17 months in a German concentration camp to get to this country to provide a life for my family. You spit on everything that makes me who I am.

That is F*CKING UNACCEPTABLE!!!

I will not take your insults anymore, Beast. I will not let you waltz into this matchup with you already having this one chalked up in the win column for yourself. Make this 100 percent crystal clear, Beast. You don't have this yet. Not by a long shot. You and I, we both still have to march into that ring and back up everything that we've said to each other this week. All the talking, all the memories, all of the outside world, that all fades away. Nothing matters except the two of us locked in combat.

Make no mistake, Beast, I have no intention of giving you any chance of leaving that ring victorious. Of course, I'm sure you have the exact same sentiment. It will be the greatest battle of wills that Empire Pro Wrestling has or will ever see.

Don't you EVER think that this is gonna be a cakewalk, Beast!

When I see you Beast, I see my enemy. Another time, perhaps we could have been great allies. As the old saying goes, we're not so different, you and I. Both fiercely determined, unwilling to let obstacles get in the way of our goals. We'll both take any and every means necessary to get the job done.

Yeah, we're alot alike. But you know what?

Come Aggression, that ain't worth sh*t.

Be sure of this, Beast. Come Aggression, in the Wachovia Center, right here in America's birthplace, you will not leave that ring without being changed beyond your wildest imagination.

You will not be the same man that you were before you stood with me, toe to toe, eye to eye. We will take each other places that the other has never dreamed they could be taken to. We will go through hell and come back for one thing, the only thing the really matters to either of us. That Unified World Title is the brass ring, and it's gonna be a hell of a fight to get it. Just remember this, Beast...

I'm not gonna be denied anymore!

It's my turn, and I don't care how far I have to go so that I end up as the champion. You're by no means the only man in this match with passion. I've just had the mind to keep it until I need it most. It's all out in the open, Beast. Neither you nor I wants to be denied anymore. Hell, I can't even stand waiting for this match to happen. If it were up to me, I'd do this Rocky V style, just find some abandoned Philly alleyway and have it out with my enemy.

But of course, then the world wouldn't be able to see the spectacle we're bound to put on at that arena.

This is my second home, Beast. I've had family here since the early 50's. I played professional football two blocks away from where we'll be at Aggression. I worked for 18 months in the very building we'll be at. This is my turf, Beast. I will *not* let you walk onto my turf and take the spot that is rightfully mine. It's about damn time that I take what I've earned. My number has come up, so don't you even dare think that this is all about you. There are still two men in this match, Beast. I thoroughly expect to be the one standing at the end.

No guarantees from me, Beast. No, "you need to be eliminated" bullsh*tting from this guy. I won't pretend to be that arrogant. But, then again, I don't care how many injuries I suffer, how bad the physical and psychological torture is, I won't let it end until I have nothing in the tank.

Earlier this week, you told me to never question your heart, your desire. You damn near went off the deep end when you mentioned it.

Beast, I'm already off the deep end. The most dangerous man keeps his calm as long as possible, doesn't show his cards until the very latest. You showed first, Beast. I know what provokes you now. Today, I turned my cards over.

Come Aggression, all the questions will be answered. But it ain't aggression yet.

So, one more question, Beast.

When it all comes down to the end, you and I in that ring, I gotta ask you this.

How long will you be able to take it?

I know my limits, but I have no clue how long you can last. For your career, you've been a pretty dominant force. But, I can guarantee you that you will have never faced someone as focused on a single goal as me. I've made me peace with the memories of my loved ones. There are no more distractions. My mind is clear. I only know one thing.

I'M NOT GOING DOWN EASY!!!

So, how long can you take it?

How long can you take that little voice in the back of your mind that tells you that the guy across from you won't give in? How long can you take the fact that I won't be giving you the three seconds you so desparately desire. The ball's in my court, Beast. It's my game to win now. I'm just as passionate about this as you, if not more. This is my life now. It won't stop until I get that Unified Title strapped around my waist in Madison Square Garden at Black Dawn. The battle begins in Philly. But it will NOT be the end for me. No matter what, no matter how badly we beat each other, I will walk out of the Wachovia Center under my own power, my head held high knowing that I gave just as good as I got. I NEED to beat you Beast. It will validate everything I've ever done.

So throw all your arsenal at me, son. Y'all better know by now that I ain't ever backing the f*ck down.

Next move is your's, Beast. See y'all at the end of the road.

Troy opens the blinds again, picks up his book and begins reading. All audio fades away save the sound of the pouring rain beating against the apartment building. With one last thunder clap and a final flash of lightning, the cameras cut away from the EPW superstar as the scene reaches its ultimate moment.

...FADE TO BLACK

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Controlled Aggression

Scene fades in once again to Beast's hotel, except this time, he's lying in bed, half under the covers with his huge, ripped upper body leaning up against the head of the bed. He's got the remote in his hand, flipping through the channels, when he comes across a replay of Troy's latest promo. He stops and puts the remote down and watches intently as Troy does his thing, and when it's over, Beast pumps his arms in the air, lets out a huge resounding "WHOOOOOOOO!" and claps his hands exuberantly.

Beast: Yeah! Way to go, Troy!

Mr. Douglas finally took the long hard walk down the yellow brick road and found himself a personality!

Congratulations!

You think I don't get it, but I do, Troy, I really do.

I look at you, and I see something that I'd bet you probably don't even know exists. I see a scared man who's been through an awful lot of sh*t in his life. I see a guy who's let that sh*t overcome him, and let it hold him back.

All because he hasn't been able to reach down and find whithin himself what's always been there. He's been too busy trying to contain it rather than let it out.

But you feel it now, don't you, Troy? You feel that beast within you, kicking and fighting and screaming ready to burst out of you like a freaking waterfall of emotion that just won't stop. That's been your problem. You've been trying to hold it back, cap it, capture it in your body's bottle, trying to build a dam around it inside of you so that it doesn't consume you and make you do some crazy sh*t that you're going to regret later.

But that's been your problem all along.

You had a major life altering event with the loss of your family. When they died, a part of you died as well. But it was replaced by this constant gnawing feeling in your guts. This ever-present sense of pure, unchecked rage and hate and anger living in a pocket of your soul, just waiting to get out and wreak havoc on anything around you. You've had this throbbing, pulsating desire to just f*cking LOSE IT and do what you've always wanted to do. Break stuff. Smash some sh*t up. Walk down the street and grab the nearest poor sonofab*tch and pound the tar out of him until he's within an inch of his poor pathetic life. After all, why should he live? Why should your family be taken from you and this sack of sh*t be allowed to continue to walk the streets at night? What makes him more important than your family?

Come on, Troy, level with me. You've always wanted to do it. You know you could have.

So why didn't you?

I'll tell you why.

Because you're afraid.

You're afraid that if you would have let loose, you would have done an awful lot of things that you were going to regret. You were afraid that you would get caught, maybe thrown in jail, and then you'd never have the chance to settle the score. You were afraid that if you opened up the dam, you'd never get it shut again.

So, you simply listened to all the psychologists and therapists and bottled everything up inside.

And you did this for your mental health?

Christ, you're dumber than I thought. Surely you've heard the stories of other people in similar situations. The wife who takes a sh*tkicking from her husband every night for 15 years, but just keeps taking it. She takes it every night and doesn't say a damn word to anyone, and then all of a sudden her husband is found with his head in two pieces with his wife standing over him with a shotgun. All the neighbors say "she was such a nice gentle woman, how could she have done this?" Simple. She bottled it in until she couldn't take it anymore and exploded, and did something she's going to have to pay for the rest of her life.

You see, there's a little trick to all of this.

Yes, keep it locked up inside, but you need to be able to channel it when you need it. It's almost like Superman calling on one of his powers to save the day. Keep it inside, but keep it boiling, keep it hot, ready to explode, and then, when you need it...

Beast's arm whips out and smashes the lamp beside the bed. The light goes out, and we hear dozens of shards of glass falling on the table. The light from the television flickers across the room, lighting up only half of Beast's face.

Beast: Controlled aggression, Troy.

This situation you've gotten yourself into is very similar to the beaten wife, Troy.

You've let this eat away at you for an entire year. You've held all this sh*t inside for much too long, and now you just couldn't hold it anymore.

And now, you say that it's going to be me that pays for it.

Think again, Junior.

Son, you can step between those ropes and you can let all the rage out of your system you want, and it's still not going to change the fact that you're not going to beat me at Aggression. You can come to the ring, try and attack before the bell rings... it's not going to work.

You see, I have every idea what you're going to be throwing at me at Aggression. It's going to be raw emotion, raw power, raw hatred... fuelled by an overwhelming desire to kick my ass because I'm the one who's finally pissed you off enough for you to snap.

Beast holds his hand up into the moonlight, and it's just enough that we can see blood running all over his hand, but he shows no sign of pain or worry. He snaps his fingers...

Beast: Just like that, Troy.

I have you exactly where I want you.

You think that because you have this new found rage and emotion flowing through you that you're going to get the best of me, that you're going to be too much for me to handle.

You've got it all backwards.

Controlled, aggression, my friend.

You're so blinded by all this emotion flooding your body, that you can only think of one thing. And that one thing may be beating my skull in, but let me tell you, it's not going to work. It's times like these that in a fight, you become your most vulnerable. You don't think. You brain doesn't process what's going on around you, because it's so damned focus on one thing and one thing only.

I'll be content to just dodge the bullet. I'll avoid you, I'll block your attacks, and when I see my opening...

Controlled aggression.

I'll snap, and you'll find yourself dropped on your head and down for the three count so fast you won't have a f*cking clue what just hit you.

You see, Troy, I've fought guys like you all my career in A1E. Great big bastards, all of 'em pissed off at the world for some reason or another, and they all thought that their anger was enough to let them destroy anything in their path. But each and every damned one of them fell at my hands, and they all had to go back to the drawing board, wondering why it just wasn't enough.

You know why?

Because I used to be just like all the rest of them.

I used to be just.like.you.

Funny, ain't it?

I was one of those guys that when I first came on the scene in professional wrestling, I was the big, bad monster out to rule the world. In my own mind, I was the baddest motherf*cker ever to set foot in a ring, and I hated everything and everyone. That was my motivation. That was my ticket. I was going to steamroll over everyone and take my spot.

But just stop right there for a second. I know what you're going to say.

No, Troy, it's not different with you. I know you're thinking to yourself that Beast's family was never killed. You're thinking that mine was a different kind of rage, and that it's enough to get you by.

Not the case at all.

Let me tell you a story. When I came into A1E, I came for one reason and one reason only. I'm an only child, and my family had taken in my cousin after she had a falling out with her own family. My parents raised her like my sister. Then, as some people do, she fell in with the wrong crowd. She was drinking heavily, doing drugs, getting into all kinds of trouble. My parents and I were disgusted. We couldn't believe that after all we had done, after the way we treated her, that she would end up like that.

As it turned out, it was all because of one man. He had gotten her into doing all the unruly sh*t, and when she turned sixteen, she left home to be with him. Been with him ever since. We've all since reconciled, but at the time, there was nothing I wanted more than to hunt down that bastard and beat him for what he had down to my cousin. To my sister. So after spending my younger years developing into one hell of an athlete and developing my body, I found him in A1E. I went there to get my hands on him. And when I got there, it was nothing but pure, unadulterated rage and fury. That's the way I lived my life. I didn't bottle any of it up. It was all one big release, and my opponents all paid dearly for it, one after the other, until I got my hands on him. And he suffered like he has never suffered before.

Once all that was taken care of, I was able to bottle things up and keep things in check. But one thing that never changed, Troy, was that's the way I developed. I've always had that assh*le still living inside of me, much like you keep your rage now in that pocket of your soul. However, rather than keep it bottled up with no release, I've learned to channel into that alter ego of mine when it's needed. When I get into a match, I dig down and pull up bits of that alter ego to allow me to do the things I do. I wouldn't be so deadly in the ring if I didn't have some dark side to grab hold of and dish out the pure punishment that I do.

And you've seen it. You've seen it when I got mad at Dan Ryan. You saw it when I got pissed off at you.

But what you've seen only comprises one tiny, inconsequential drop in the bucket of what I possess.

The rage that lives deep within me, Troy, is the same rage that lives deep within you. Only now, with you it runs amuck, it runs rampant, with no control mechanism. It's untapped, untamed, and it's consumed you, and now you have absolutely no way to control it. It's not something where you can just open the floodgates and be able to harness all of that energy without some kind of training or practice.

That leaves you a sitting duck. It leaves you my prey, and come Aggression, this beast is going on the hunt, and he's going to score a big meal and a trip to the next round of the World Championship tournament.

Your time isn't going to start at Aggression, Troy.

It's going to end. You've had your chance. You've had the opportunity to do something with yourself over the last year, but you've f*cked it all up. I'm going to back up everything I've said in the ring, just like I've backed it up for the past three and a half years. I'm going to show you what the hype is all about.

It goes both ways, Troy. You want my respect? You're going to have to earn it in the ring. The only way you're going to do that is to pin my shoulders to the mat and get the 1,2,3 or make me submit.

In my eyes, you haven't earned SH*T.

But when you do finally earn it, I'll be the first in line to shake your hand and congratulate you. Only problem is, it's not going to be this week, so you'll have to excuse me if I feel compelled to continue to lob a few snide remarks your way and try and knock you off your game a little further than you already are. Unacceptable or no, that's just the way it is.

It's all part of the posturing, all part of the mental game, and like I said before, if you're strong enough, the mental game isn't a factor. However, by the looks of things, I've not just gotten inside your head, I've started mixing your brains around and scrambling them like eggs next to your morning toast and orange juice. You're so fired up you don't know which way you're going, and as I've pointed out, that makes you a very vulnerable opponent.

But that being said, you can take some satisfaction from the fact that regardless of what we say to each other this week, Troy, that I am taking you very seriously. Cake walk, you say? I take all my opponents, from seasoned veteran to the greenest of rookies very seriously, cause you never quite know when something will happen. I know damn well you don't want me to leave that ring victorious, but sometimes, Troy, what you want just don't mean SH*T.

Like I've said before, right now you are the one that stands between me and that World Title. And, as much as I've said that I'm taking you seriously, I also firmly believe that with my skills and talent coupled with your obviously seriously unstable condition, I'm not going to be the same man I was before the match when it's all over.

I'll be a man that's one step closer to grabbing that brass ring and holding it tight. I'm going to take the ball and run with it farther than anyone's ran before.

I'm not going to deny you, Troy.

Your inablility to realize the situation you're in is going to make you deny yourself.

It doesn't matter if we're in Philly, in New York, in L.A., in Greenwich, in Hoboken, in the biggest city, the smallest town, or if we're in buttf*ck USA, or in your very own god damned backyard. The location is not going to change the competitor I am.

Your number has come up alright. It's a big 'ol number 1.

Number 1 on my list of Empire Pro stars to beat on the way to the World Title.

You're telling me that you're going to go on until there's nothing left in the tank. You're telling me that I exploded first, and I showed my hand too soon. In your words, I "damn near went off the deep end". But then again, you said you already did.

Now tell me.... exactly who's played their cards first?

You've let it all hang out, Troy. You've plateaued. You've hit the emotional point of exhaustion, and again, in your own words, you've already gone off the deep end.

Yet here I am, still standing here, in full control. I may have showed first, but I saved one for last. I teased you a bit, dropped a pair of Aces and a pair of Queens. You've come back with full house, King's high. A respectable hand, but I've still got an Ace up my sleeve.

I still have control of my emotions. You've already let loose.

You have an idea what provokes me, and you can keep on provking me, but you haven't got a freaking CLUE what happens when you push just that little bit too far. You have NO IDEA what happens when you truly piss me off.

Want to find out? Push just a little harder.

I dare you.

And when Aggression comes, it's not going to be a question of how long I can take it. I've spent nearly an hour in a bloody cell getting beaten with every implement a man can get into a wrestling ring, against the craziest sonofab*tch in the business. I've been in extreme matches under extreme conditions, and I've always come out on top. You can take your guarantee about never facing someone like you and shove it up your f*cking ass. Until you go out and watch everything I've done, you can't make that assumption. But that's just another sign of your obvious lack of mental discipline showing through. That just validates everything I've said here today. I've been up against jackasses like you each and every damned night of my career.

You're nothing special.

You're going down, indeed.

You're going down faster than a Thai hooker on an Amercian sailor with a wad of cash wrapped around his c*ck.

When it's all said and done, Troy, yeah, you'll be able to walk out of the arena with your head held high. You'll be able to take satisfaction in the knowledge that you've just been beaten by the best.

That's nothing to hang your head about.

But before you do, please do me a favor and leave the cheap pops to Mick Foley.

I'm going to throw all of my own arsenal at you at Aggression, Troy, and maybe even a little bit out of other people's as well. You may not back down, and that's commendable, but there's nothing you're going to be able to do about it when your body just plain gives out.

The end of the road, for you Troy, is a primed, cocked and loaded Beast.

Your FIRST Empire Pro Champion.

Beast lifts up the remote and shuts off the television, throwing the room into complete darkness.

 

[CuseTroy]

The End of the Road

FADE IN...

The night before Empire Pro Wrestling's "Aggression" telecast, Troy Douglas has one final word for the public, and one man in particular. This chilly February night, the 27 year old Carolinian roosts on an old wooden bench at the top of the Palestra, the ancient basketball shrine on the campus of the University of Pennsylvania. There is no game tonight, so the gym lights are at a minimum. Troy sits in the row of seats directly below the aging scoreboard. This evening he wears a pair of black sweatpants and an old Hornet t-shirt from the early days of the CSWA. A worn orange basketball sits on top of his Empire Pro gym bag to his left. He raises his head to the camera, revealing a face that clearly has not been shaven this day, as it is ringed by a five-o-clock shadow. A look of clam intensity rests on his face as he begins to speak.

TROY DOUGLAS:

Well, we come now to the end of it all.

All our talking, our venom, the anger and emotion that we've shared with one another, it all comes down to two men, in one ring, in front of twenty thousand screaming Philadelphians. On the line, the one thing that matters. The Empire Pro Wrestling World Unified Championship. The moment that the world has anticipated for a long time is about to occur. On one side, Beast. The phenomenon of the wrestling world, one of the men touted as the future of this industry. On the other side, me, Troy Douglas. A relative unknown, but a veteran with one thing on his side. What that thing is? Well, I don't think I'll tell you that just yet.

First, I got some stuff to say that really begs saying.

He picks up the ball and walks down the stands towards the court.

TROY DOUGLAS:

Beast, you've been going on this past week like you're "the Alpha male" in this match. You've been mixing some very, shall we say, evocative metaphors in with some rage and some faux-wittiness in an attempt to get me off my game. You've thrown everything I said right back at me. Well, you want some more fodder if you are to throw one last volley before we kick this sh*t off at Broad and Eleventh, here it is.

Right here, right now, in West Philadelphia, I'm calling you a COWARD, Beast.

I want to know why a man of such physical capacity and potential is afraid to let the world know his true name. I want to know why you've been dodging the one question I've asked you all week. I want to know if you've EVER lived outside your diluted little fantasy world, where you're the king of everything and nobody can do anything unless you say so. I want to know what happens when the end of the day comes and you DON'T have that world championship strapped around your waste.

You're nothing but an illusion, Beast. A collection of petty insecurities and fears that present themselves as a rage-filled alter ego. You let your own belief in your physical superiority and wrestling acuity that you refuse to believe that anything in your little "Beast-world" that is the ring can possibly go wrong for you.

You won't let yourself express your doubts. Why Beast, why? Are you scared that if you really speak your mind, someone will know that your just a man, just like the rest of us?

Well, for the next 24 hours, you can console yourself in your f*cking Fantasy Island dream world where Ricardo Montalban and that weird little midget make all your dreams come true. But remember, at the end of every episode, there's a moral. At the end of every fantasy, there must be a lesson, a taste of reality. So, just be careful what you wish for, Beast.

You wanted a shot at one of the premiere titles in this industry today. You wanted it, you got it. That's your dream, that's my dream, that's the dream of every one of the eight men in this tournament today. Only problem for you is, at the end of Aggression, you'll be faced with a harsh dose of reality.

At Aggression, after you've been pinned to the mat for those three seconds, you're gonna have to deal with the fact that when reality rears her ugly head, she won't be smiling at you. You'll have to realize that just because you ate your Wheaties and said your prayers and asked God if he would make everything okay if you said your pleases and thank yous. In the real world, in this world, that ain't always the case.

Your looking at a man who knows more about what's real and what's not than anyone you'll ever find. I wanted a mother, a father, and a fiancee. I don't have them anymore. I never asked anyone for that, Beast. Just like you didn't ask anyone to turn your cousin down that path. The same path my best friend, the guy who was the closest thing I ever had to a brother, once walked down. You know where he is right now? He's at a state penetentiary in Raleigh, doing time for possesion of cocaine and assault with a deadly weapon. He's clean now, but neither he, nor I, nor his family asked for that to happen. That's not the way that b*tch reality likes to work.

You see, I know so much more about what you've been through than you can ever imagine. You can NEVER go through what I've experienced without feeling sympathy for anyone whose felt the pain of loss. But Beast, all that sympathy, the "kindred spirit and brotherhood" bullsh*t, that all gets tossed out the window when we step between those ropes and into that squared circle at Aggression. At that point, when that bell rings, the past gets thrown out the window. When we go at it, it's about me, you, and advancing to the next round, the next plateau. It's about the one step closer to the EPW World Title that I plan to take.

Troy walks from under the basket to the tip-off cirlce at center court. He places the ball at the exact center of the red and blue circle, and stares once again at the camera.

TROY DOUGLAS:

You know, it probably seemed odd to you when you saw me standing in some musty old gym in the middle of West Philadelphia. That, Beast, is because you have no idea what this place means. It is an icon of sport, the home of college basketball in the Northeast. It is the oldest and most glorious arena where Dr. Naismith's game is played. It is the home of rivalry, of respect, of tradition. The traits represented by the men who have honored this building with their skill are exactly what I represent.

TRADITION.

RESPECT.

INTERGITY.

COURAGE.

RIVALRY.

HONOR.

That is my ace in the hole, Beast. You can talk about yout aces high full house all you want. Come Aggression, I show the ultimate trump card. I'll pull out every stop I need to just so I can put you to the mat with the "Broken Dream" or the "End of the Road". I'll come into the ring to defend my very honor, my pride. There is no glory in cowardice. Win or lose, I fight till my last breath. Call me a throwback, call me outdated, call me corny. Just accept that that's WHO I AM. This is my time to shine, Beast. You can have the future. I'm taking the present. At Aggression, I show my cards.

Guess what, kid. Got three words for ya.

ROYAL STRAIGHT FLUSH.

Beat that, fantasy boy.

That's it for me. We've reached the end of the road. I'll see you in the ring, where we decide who's time it is to disembark. Thing is, my ticket's already stamped for one place. Madison Square Garden, home of Black Dawn. I'll see ya there, Beast. Best of luck.

Troy picks up the basketball from center court. He dribbles down to the opposite side of the court, tossing the ball off the backboard, leaping and catching it before throwing down a 360 windmill dunk. The last thing we see is Troy Douglas, former All-North Carolina basketball player, grinning at the camera before we here the sound of power being turned off and the final flickering gym lights begin to fade into oblivion, concluding the scene.

...FADE TO BLACK

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Inside Beast's locker room, as he's lacing up for the big match...

Beast: You know something, Troy, after all this time, I gotta say that I agree with you about something. Finally.

We have shared a lot together this week. In spite of all the put downs, the tongue-in-cheek remarks, I actually tried to help you out a bit. Tried to give you some advice, to try and help you cope with some of the problems arising from your situation. Will it help? Who knows? I don't know if you even listened to any of it.

But I can rest now knowing that I at least tried.

And this week is all about one thing. That big belt. The one thing that compelled all of us to come to this new promotion and enter the tournament to crown the inaugaural Champion.

Am I going to argue with you calling me the Phenomenon? I actually quite like the ring of that. I'm sure it'll sell Dan Ryan an awful lot of t-shirts. I'll be sure to ask him to give you your cut for coming up with the idea, although I'm sure he's a frugal b*stard and may just say the idea was his own. I also like "Alpha Male". I think I'll use that one - AFTER I prove to EPW that that's exactly what I am.

But all kidding aside, Troy, I gotta tell you that calling me a coward isn't exactly going to get you on my good side, no matter how many t-shirt ideas you come up with for me. I'm sure you want me to get all fired up, throw some chairs around the locker room, and generally trash the place in rage, but buddy, it ain't going to happen.

But it will be the last volley you throw at me on the road to that big shiny belt. You simply won't be in the tournament after this week.

This week at Aggression, this coward is going to beat you like you've never been beaten before.

In case you haven't noticed, Troy - and I know you haven't, since you haven't rushed out and bought all the past A1E DVD's from our web site like I asked you to if you wanted to get to know me a bit - I'm the furthest thing from a coward you can get in this business. Step into a Cell? No problem. Parking lot streetfights? No problem. Matches where the ropes are made of barbed wire, and each opponent has their hands wrapped in tape and glue and covered in glass? Love 'em. Hardcore, submission, whatever - you name the gimmick, and I'll be there with bells on. I have NEVER walked away from a match or any opponent - or multiple opponents, for that matter - and I'm sure not going to begin now when the big shiny belt is on the line and some little punk has tried to paint a yellow stripe on my back.

It's pretty funny - for a guy that doesn't know anything about me, you've all of a sudden become an expert on me.

Or would a more plausible explanation be that you're full of sh*t?

I haven't dodged a damned thing all week, Troy. If memory serves me correctly, you're one that disappeared for two days after my last promo, only to reappear minutes before the cameras stop rolling in one last desperate attempt to get some petty shots in.

If you wanted to know my name, pal, all you had to do was ask.

It's Marcus. Marcus Gregory Westcott, if you want to know all of em. I got nothing to hide, I'm proud of that name. Sure, when I'm on camera, or in the ring, or doing anything media related, I'm Beast. And when the end of the day comes, I go home, or to the hotel, kick off my shoes, relax, and I'm just plain old Marcus. I live outside the wrestling world each and every day. I go to the store, I go rent movies, I go wash my car, I do all kinds of things. It's amazing what just a little bit of time amongst regular people will do for you. You get to talk to people like they're people, and them the same back to you. You don't feel put up on a pedestal all the time, and people can actually put together a complete sentence, because they're talking to Marcus, the man, not Beast the superstar.

It's funny that you bring this up, though, because in reality, aren't all of us in this business illusions? We're human, we're regular everyday people , but once that camera starts rolling, we all become something we're not.

That's right, Doctor Freud, even you.

Is "Quack" in your vocabulary, Troy? It sure as hell better be. Do me a favor and don't quit your day job. If I even decide that I really need some help, I'll be sure not to go to you, and I'll find a certified professional.

I don't know if this is Fantasy Island or not, but dude, you must be caught in some weird temporal subspace anomaly on Star Trek. You're not a psychologist, and you sure as hell aren't a teacher.

But, seeing as you haven't figured that out yet, I've done nothing BUT speak my mind, Troy. Going off on Dan Ryan right out of the gate... offering you some advice on dealing with your loss - that's the real Beast. He may just be Marcus pumped up a few degrees, but it's the same old me.

You won't be teaching me any lessons come Aggression, Troy. I don't expect to teach you any. I just expect to strap on my boots, head out to the ring and do what it is that I do best. And that's wrestle. I've got a shot at one of the highest honors in our business, and I'll be damned if I let a train wreck like you spoil it for me. I came here to be the BEST. Not second. Not third. Not Eighth.

And that means one thing. My path is clear. My fate this week is chosen.

I have to beat you in the ring this week at Aggression.

To steal a phrase from a buddy of mine: So it is written, and so it shall be done.

I don't have any other choice in the matter.

All this talk about reality rearing her head, me seeing reality, me getting pinned to the mat - all fool's talk. I came here for one reason, and one reason only, and that's to WIN. And if that means that I have to go through you and spoil all your dreams, then that's what needs to be done.

And that's the way things are going to be.

All this stuff about your family... my family... it doesn't mean **** now, Troy. What's real and not real? That doesn't mean a god damned thing. It all comes down to getting into the ring and proving who is the best. And with all the accolades you've showered me with this week, it seems like we both already knows which one of us it truly is.

Just because you want it, just because you NEED it... that doesn't change the fact that I'm ALREADY IT.

And just to prove that you haven't got a f*cking clue what you're talking about - Dr. James Naismith was CANADIAN. One of my homeland brothers. Your game was first played in CANADA.

All the things you say - all the traits you admire - I have them all, and that's just the reason that I'm going to be a great Champion to lead EPW.

Not you.

Your ace in the hole is really a deuce.

You'd better fold while you can.

Better yet...

I'll make you.

Right before I pin you to the mat.

Fade/