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BLACK DAWN 2010: TAG TEAM TITLES: Anthology (c) vs. The Heirs of Wrestling

Seth

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“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? CLOSE THAT SH*T UP!”

(We find ourselves in the rich, lavish living room of one Frank Pierce. Across the room from him, the manager for EPW’s Heirs of Wrestling, Alexandria Malone, wearing a black blouse and blue jeans, freezes in place, clutching an umbrella in her hand.)

FRANK PIERCE: Don’t even think about it. Put it down… step away from the umbrella.

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: Uh… Frank… I was just going to open the umbrella up and let it dry out a lit…

FRANK PIERCE: Winston Churchill once hypothesized… F*CK. THAT. SH*T. I’m not getting ugly-ass-Seattle rainwater on my good carpet. Plus, that’s just retarded, opening an umbrella. That, Ally, is bad luck!

(Shaking his head with dismay, Frank Silver adjusts a mirror cautiously… very, very cautiously, sitting over the couch. Shaking her head from across the room, Alex raises an eyebrow at one of her charges.)

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: So… what’s up with all this anyway? I’ve managed you guys for almost two years now and I’ve never seen you this superstitious.

FRANK PIERCE: Normally? I’m not. But Black Dawn is coming up, Alex. The Heirs of Wrestling have their EPW PPV Debut and we’ve finally got what we wanted. We’re taking on Jared Wells, Copycat, and “Simply Sensational” Sean Edmunds for the EPW Tag Team Titles, Triad Rules. I’m not taking any chances. Bad luck needs to go pack its sh*t and go someplace else.

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: Fine, fine, whatever. Look, you’ve got me out there to keep an eye on things. You’re gonna beat those guys and finally put the tag titles with an ACTUAL team.

FRANK PIERCE: You know, it’s a good thing I like you. If you would’ve actually opened that damn thing in my house and you were a dude, I’d have f*cked you up worse than Sean Edmunds f*cked up in the main event of Aggression 51.

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: Wow. Harsh.

(The young manager makes her way across the living room, pausing for a moment at the ladder in the middle of the space.)

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: And… lemme guess. This is also part of the whole “luck” thing, too?

FRANK PIERCE: You got it. I’ve got a whole “superstition” theme going here. In the bedroom, I got a bunch of horseshoes over the bed and four-leaf clovers. I hid all the salt shakers so there’s no way anybody’s gonna spill any in this house. I’ve got like, forty rabbits feet that me and Ryan picked ourselves.

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: At the store?

(Sliding his eyes from one side of the room to the other, he lets out a heavy breath.)

FRANK PIERCE: Yeesss... bought… not cut off…

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: Wait, WHAT?!

FRANK PIERCE: (dodging the question like Sean Edmunds dodges women) YEAH! LADDER! If it’s in my sight at all times, nobody will walk underneath it. If you check it out, you can actually see a hideous smudge that looks exactly like Copycat on the bottom rung.

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: (peering over) Yeah, I can see it... whoa, Frank. On the floor… that penny’s heads-up. I should…

(Frank smacks her hand away.)

FRANK PIERCE: DON’T. TOUCH. That is an ACTUAL good luck charm and it’s not going to be passed around like something Jared Wells picked up. It’s not the EPW Tag Team Titles! That’s mine!

(Picking it up off the ground, Frank smiles contently before setting the coin in a jar marked “LUCKY PENNIES.” It is also worth noting that this brings his grand total of lucky pennies to one. Going back to his computer, Frank’s fingers dance around the keyboard faster than a crowd exiting a theater showing a Copycat film.)

FRANK PIERCE: Let’s see… bigger dong, bigger dong, bigger dong… give money to your Kuwaiti cousin and get $50 million dollars… Okay, Ally, this is straight bullsh*t. Pills do not exist that make your dong bigger. That’s like saying there’s a f*cking pill that makes people enjoy watching Sean Edmunds compete. You DO have to adjust your sets. He does suck that bad.

(After deleting his junk mail, a light goes off in Frank’s head as a mischievous smile crosses his face. Starting to tap frantically on the keyboard, the Baron of Ballistics clicks away powered by a wave of sudden inspiration.)

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: What’s got you in a tizzy?

FRANK PIERCE: Well, I had this awesome idea. I’m going to send those motherf*ckers all a nasty chain e-mail. We need all the help we can get and I figure, why not? We keep the good juju here and give them the bad juju. Check this out:

To: AnthologyEPW@EPW.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Check it, b*tches!
S’up, b*tches,
Don’t read this! If your eyes even so much as peek at this, then you must send this e-mail to approximately 1,000 people on your address list within the next 4.3 seconds. If you aren’t cool enough like I am to even KNOW a 1,000 different people… you, my friends, are all f*cked.

You will continue to be cursed. Your careers will become nothing more than laughingstocks.

“Simply Sensational” Sean Edmunds, you will flat-out struggle with your career. You’ll take dives in title matches and main events. Your own extreme blandness and black hole-like charisma will indeed force you to bury yourself in meaningless catch phrases. Your matches will become so formulaic, you’ll make the Great Khali look like the Great Muta. When around Jared Wells, who would hump a cadaver, you’ll be forced to cover your own asshole because even though you aren’t living impaired, your career pretty much is.

Jared Wells, the reign that you and Larry Tact have spent building up in the last calendar year will have fallen into shambles when Larry Tact opens his mouth for something other than being Triple X’s personal waste receptacle. After he gets fired, your tag title reign will succumb to much more scrutiny when a Destiny’s Child-like revolving door of people sign on to be your partner and get handed titles because they can’t win their own. The only “Clap” that you’re gonna get from the audience is little Timmy Bradbury of Atlanta, GA, when you greet him in the men’s bathroom after the show.

Copycat, your much-touted entry into EPW will be hyped by your own Anthology brethren. You will, indeed, fulfill your true potential while you are associated with your power stable; your true potential as Anthology’s personal bag carrier. Now, unlike Edmunds, you will indeed get a brief dalliance with EPW gold… however, that comes in the form of Jared Wells needing somebody to hold the belts while he takes a piss.

After Sean Stevens proves how much of a b*tch he truly is by ripping off The Wire and getting himself disqualified against Jeff Hardy’s cousin with Down Syndrome, Anthology will have the credibility of a Kevin Federline rap album. You’ll…

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: Frank, I said enough already! Enough!

FRANK PIERCE: What? What the hell is the problem.

(Pointing a finger at his screen, Alexandria Malone lets out a brief sigh.)

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: Ryan sent this to them already when we first came to EPW.

(Frank glanced on at the screen as the wheels started to turn in his head.)

FRANK PIERCE: Well… that explains everything, then…

(FADE)
 
Last edited:

GARTHIsTheLaw

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<i>(From a black screen, a camera image suddenly clicks on. Copycat is seen removing his hand from the “on” button of the video camera that sits before him and sitting down. He wears the same black T-shirt he wore when he ran over Dan Ryan at Aggression 51, and his hair hangs loose on his shoulders. He speaks to the camera, his voice deadpan)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> In a few minutes, I’m going to do something I fully expect to regret for the rest of my career. Maybe even the rest of my life.

<i>(He looks up at the camera)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> Over-the-top violence has always been part of this business in one way or another. I understand there’s a place for it. But I always told myself I’d never fall into that trap. I told myself I’d never be one of those guys who goes out there with the sole intention of hurting someone. And for the last 14 years, I’ve stuck to that. Have I been in some matches and feuds that ended with the other guys sporting some pretty serious injuries? Sure. But I’ve never gone overboard with it. I’ve left that to the Neanderthals. I knew as long as I could outsmart my opponent, I wouldn’t have to take those sorts of measures.

<i>(He averts his gaze from the camera, looking down)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> But I just don’t know anymore. I can still think circles around everyone in EPW, but it doesn’t do me any good. I’m used to opponents despising me, but in EPW, no one in a position of power is willing to listen. Competing in EPW as part of Anthology is probably the most selfless thing I’ve done in this business, and for that, I’m ignored. I’m not in this for personal glory. I’ve had more than enough of that in the ring, and I’ll have plenty outside the ring when I’m done with wrestling. All I wanted was to help drag this industry away from the abyss, but everyone in it is determined to push it over that edge. It’s like this generation of wrestlers is dead-set on there not being a wrestling business once they’re done with it.

<i>(He looks back up at the camera)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> I can’t let that happen. I thought I’d be able to stop it from happening by doing what I’ve always done, with the help of Anthology. But it’s not working. A year after I made my EPW debut, and the problems here are even worse than before. Everyone in EPW – wrestlers and management alike – has risen up against Anthology, refusing to make any changes that might allow this business to survive. It’s clear now that I can’t solve the problems I came here to solve without taking drastic actions. Actions more drastic than any I’ve ever had to take in my 14-year career. Actions that could very well destroy the legacy I’ve built for myself, cause fans to forget all about the man they’ve known since 1996 and remember me as something entirely different. A man who took things a step too far. A man who went back on the principles he set for himself, the principles he said he’d always stick to. They won’t remember me as a man who gave up everything he’d built for himself to save this business. They’ll remember me for what I’ll become.

<i>(He closes his eyes. His voice begins to waver)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> I’ve tried to convince myself I don’t need to go through with this. But I’m done denying it. I know what has to be done. I know what I need to do to get anyone in EPW willing to listen to reason to listen to reason. And if there’s no one willing to listen to reason, I know what I need to do to ensure they can’t keep destroying what I love. I don’t want to do this, but I have to. I’ll never forgive myself for doing it, but I’ll never forgive myself if the forces destroying this business succeed and I don’t feel I did everything I could to stop them.

<i>(He leans forward, resting his face in his hands, with his voice – his mouth left uncovered – continuing to waver)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> I’ve got a few minutes left before the driver delivers Alaina Troy-Ryan to the parking lot. Maybe another minute or two before Dan Ryan finds her out there. I’ve got to get into position. But I wanted to leave this to remind myself later of why I did what I’m about to do. What I do tonight is only the beginning. I don’t want it to get worse, but I know it will. And if I don’t recognize myself by the time it’s all over, at least I’ll understand why I started this. To anyone else, it might just seem like another act of extreme violence. But to me, it’s crossing a threshold I told myself years ago I would never cross. And once I’m on the other side, there’s no going back.

<i>(He opens his eyes again and looks into the camera)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> They’ll call me a monster. But if I do become a monster, it will be a monster created by EPW, created by this generation of wrestlers dedicated to destroying wrestling for their own benefit, created by the management of this company that is more concerned with pleasing its destructors than with trying to solve the problems plaguing it. I know what I have to do. I don’t want to do it. But I do it of my own free will.

<i>(He reaches up toward the top of the camera)</i>

<b>Copycat:</b> God forgive me.

<i>(The camera switches off, cutting to black)</i>
 

Seth

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(FADE-IN: The camera pans in on the hustle-and-bustle of Lloyd Center Mall right in the heart of Portland, Oregon… or maybe, it’s the sh*tty since the surrounding area kinda looks like unwashed ass. Nevertheless, inside the mall, the camera looks down at the massive ice-rink, trying to get skirt upshots of some hot, white, jailbait ass.

With an hour to kill before EPW does an autograph signing, we can hear the voices of my children… er, our heroes… okay, wrestlers, The Heirs of Wrestling conversing with one another. Frank Pierce sips his coke from Sbarro’s.)

FRANK PIERCE: Ryan… Ryan… RYAN! RYAN, LOOKEE HERE!

RYAN GALLWAY: Dude, not now… I have got a SUBLIME view of the twin moons of Dolcium… dear God, I wanna go spelunking…

MACK BRODY: Ew. Salad. Eating.

FRANK PIERCE: RYAN… NOW!

(With a heavy sigh, the cameraman who we discover to be Ryan Gallway turns the camera back towards Frank. Slamming his cup down on the table, Frank scratches at his 5-o’clock shadow.)

FRANK PIERCE: Okay… we’ve got the opportunity of a f*cking lifetime here, guys. We stuck it to Anthology last week and beat their ass after their match. And as any wrestling fan knows, follow-up is key. We’ve got some time before we gotta dole out some John Hancocks, so we need to show just how much the average wrestling rube… (Clearing his throat) …fan, sorry, doesn’t give a f*ck about Anthology anymore and their hideous-ass line-up changes. To put it simply, Anthology are old and busted. We are New Hotness. Idiots love getting on television, so let’s get some testimonials and bury those motherf*ckers.

RYAN GALLWAY: Did you… did you really just drop a Will Smith line into that whole tangent?

FRANK PIERCE: Uh… what? WHAT?

MACK BRODY: You did. You just called Anthology “old and busted” and referred to us as “New Hotness.”

FRANK PIERCE: Uh… (grinning slyly) … well, good for them, but I’ve never seen the movie.

RYAN GALLWAY: We did… we watched it on the plane ride here to Portland.

FRANK PIERCE: Okay.

MACK BRODY: And you kept telling us how you were going to use that particular line into a movie.

FRANK PIERCE: Okay.

RYAN GALLWAY: I was messing with this thing on the plane. I have it here on tape.

FRANK PIERCE: You, sirs, are both backed up toilets. You’re both full of sh…

(The video suddenly goes into rewind for several moments, then finally stops the camera now shows a crowded plane, timestamped April 30th, 10:12am. In full view, the in-flight movie on the way to Portland is clearly “Men In Black II” with the scene of Will Smith trying to jog Tommy Lee Jones’ Alzheimer’s-addled mind.)

WILL SMITH: YOU OLD AND BUSTED… I’M NEW HOTNESS. OLD AND BUSTED. NEW HOTNESS!

(Panning over to the seat next to him, we see Frank Pierce asleep… or so we think. He quickly opens one eye and starts jotting down something in marker on his right hand.)

FRANK PIERCE: Dude… awesome. Totally using that.

(And now, back to real time.)

FRANK PIERCE: …That's clearly not me, you tools. Now... let’s go hassle some wrestling fans.

(The scene cuts to a few minutes later. Sitting across from them at the food court, a large man wearing only sweatpants and a white tank wolfs down a pair of greasy, messy foot-long meatball subs. His pupils rotate towards the microphone being jammed unnecessarily close to his face. Off-camera, we can hear the always condescending Frank Pierce continue to treat the wrestling fans with his own brand of in-your-face journalism that’s made him beloved in the industry.)

FRANK PIERCE: Hey, Big Fat Boloney Tits… tell the fans at home how much Anthology blows so we can ask other people.

BIG GUY: Anthogowgwaaayyy…

FRANK PIERCE: What’s that, sir? Anthology is gay? Sir, I am not trying to drag any one person or parties’ sexual reference into this… but, seriously, can you just call them a bunch of stupid cum-dumps who circlejerk on Tag Team Titles instead of actually coveting them and we’ll be on our way? Thanks.

BIG GUY: NO!

(After swallowing a big bite of meatball… insert Jared Wells joke here… the fat guy continues.)

BIG GUY: No, I distinctly said “Anthology? Go away.” I don’t know what an Anthology is… that’s like… a Mortal Kombat game, right?

FRANK PIERCE: …Mack, show Tankass here what we think of people like him.

(Without delay, Mack takes the guy’s other sandwich and actually FIELD GOAL kicks it straight over the railing and down to the floor below. In the ice rink straight below the food court, we hear a large THUD followed by shocked lookers-on.)

MAN: OW! WHO THE F*CK THREW A MEATBALL SANDWICH AT ME!

(Without any MORE delay, three pairs of feet start scampering away from the scene as quickly as possible, ducking into the AMC theater nearby. After some more hideous static, we cut to the Heirs of Wrestling in a nearly empty movie theatre, playing “Hot Tub Time Machine.” The camera is being directed back at Frank in night vision as scattered pockets of movie-goers enjoy the film.)

FRANK PIERCE: Okay, so after the whole meatball sandwich and the issue with rent-a-popos giving chase, I think we’re safe in here. We’re here in the middle of a screening of “Hot Tub Time Machine.” Now, the movie is a pretty funny adventure with a group of four guys stuck in time, much like our three opponents who are stuck back in the early 2000s when they were all still relevant. Over there, we’ve got a young couple that we’re going to ask about their thoughts on these menaces to society.

(Barreling over to a young couple, still filming in night vision the entire way, Ryan mans the camera while Frank Pierce comes up from behind the couple, microphone in hand, scaring the living bejeesus out of them in the process.)

FRANK PIERCE: Young male and your possibly statutory friend here… what are your thoughts on Black Dawn and Anthology, mainly Sean Edmunds? Aren’t all his matches pretty much scientific law since the results never vary… pose, brag, brag, pose, pause for effect, diarrhea face into the camera, suplex that hasn't finished anybody since the Mesozoic Era?

YOUNG GUY: What the sh*t is this?

YOUNG GIRL: What the hell’s going on?

FRANK PIERCE: Whoa, frat pack, easy there.

(Suddenly, the girl looks right at the camera, a mortified look on her face.)

YOUNG GIRL: Ryan… Ryan? What the f*ck? You said you were going to call me.

RYAN GALLWAY: Uh… No speak the English. I’m Umberto Glockenspiel, the Lovable Spanish-Swiss Cameraman… uh… Arriba… Jah!

(We speed up this wacky adventure again, about thirty-eight minutes later to be precise. Finding themselves outside the Tilt Arcade, half a dozen kids appear to be enamored with a series of DDR and shooter games packed into the exact same corner. This time, both Frank and Ryan are in full view, seated on a park bench as Ryan nurses pretty big knot on his temple. Manning the camera, Mack Brody can be heard chuckling under his breath.)

RYAN GALLWAY: Where the f*ck were you guys? The boyfriend popped me… seriously, I think he was wearing a ring.

FRANK PIERCE: Dude, it’s totally not polite to talk or stop a potential fight during a movie. ‘Sides, they got to the really funny part.

(The camera pans now to the other side of Tilt where a kid plays Ski-ball... okay, fails supremely at Ski-Ball.)

FRANK PIERCE: Sh*t, I don’t know why he’s crying… I mean, Alaina Troy-Ryan got kidnapped by Copycat and is probably being forced to screen test his newest flick, “I’m Not an Abysmal Failure (But I Am.)” Let’s get to him before Jared Wells does! The country loves the Emos.

(As the trio approached the boy, he turned around and stopped sobbing, trying his best to look as not-like-a-girl as possible. Frank handed him a five-dollar bill before kneeling down to reach his height.)

FRANK PIERCE: Hey, buddy. This was an awesome game when I was a kid, too. You like wrestling?

BOY: Yeah, I do!

FRANK PIERCE: Do you like Empire Pro Wrestling?

BOY: Yeah, it’s awesome! It has The First, it’s got Dan Ryan, Fusenshoff, Karl Brown… they got some good wrestlers!

FRANK PIERCE: And what do you think about those guys that try to hurt them? Like those evil Anthology guys!

BOY: F*CK THEM IN THE BUTT!

(The entire arcade – Frank, Ryan and Mack, included – looked on at the boy, utterly wide-eyed and speechless as he ran off to go do something else that would capture his child-like attention for twenty-eight seconds. Shrugging his shoulders at the state of this generation and its youth, Frank finally speaks up.)

FRANK PIERCE: Wow. I’m thinking he REALLY likes Layne Winters or something. So, anyway, EPW fans, there you have it. Anthology are hated all across America by all types of demographics. Everything from corpulent creatures to our 15-25 make-out session demographic… even today’s young minds misshapen by video games, Ben 10, and Bakugan. Not because anybody’s actually jealous of this band of miscreants, but more so because they won’t go back into a hole, die, and go replace its members in the confines of a fiery Hell where nobody will have to deal with their old and busted sh*t. This is the New Hotness of the Heirs of Wrestling saying, “Good fight, and to the EPW Tag Title reign of Anthology… good night.”

(Mack extends and thumbs up before he lets the camera fall haplessly to the floor. Still running, it catches three pairs of feet.)

RYAN GALLWAY: See, you did it again!

MACK BRODY: Yeah… stop ripping off movies. It’s incredibly juvenile, it gives us the negative appearance that anything we do cannot be construed as original and paints us in an overall underwhelming light… granted, Anthology are a bunch of typecast retards, but still.

FRANK PIERCE: Okay, first off, Mack... when did YOU become a poet laureate? And I am NOT ripping off movies, I'm not ripping off television, I'm not ripping off anything. I came up with that quote! This isn't some ridiculous story that's going to just fade to black in mid-seFADE.
 

Seth

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(FADE-IN: A chapel somewhere in the heart of Portland, Oregon. We’re not talking some rinky-dink drive-through-for-drunks. No, sirs! This is like, the Donald Trump “Apprentice” of chapels. Sitting in the pews are scattered on-lookers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. All of them look bored, just sitting around, waiting for this meeting to start. On the stage, an elderly gentleman going about 65-70 slowly adjusts the microphone. After adjusting it and nearly killing the church-goers with a loud buzz, he clears his throat.)

PASTOR: And now, our guest minister for the evening, please welcome to the stand, Minister Andrew MacArthur Brody.

(Another loud BANG! makes the crowd stand as in marches Heirs of Wrestling member and the metrosexaul equivalent of Terry Gordy, Mack Brody himself, wearing a series of colorful robes that make him look like the biggest f*cking minister ever. Following him is Frank Pierce and Ryan Gallway, the former wearing a brown Armani suit and the latter wearing some GAUDY bright orange suit that makes him look more like he’s going to Prom than to church. And also has an orange silk scarf that makes him more European than you, despite the fact he’s from Florida which is more Cuban than anything. Oh, don’t laugh, you know it is.

Strutting right up to the pulpit, the giant mountain of muscle stands in front, surveying the mass of church-goers (nine or ten) that have packed themselves (they have plenty of legspace) into the room. Frank and Ryan stand off slightly to the side as Mack begins, praying that this doesn’t turn into a complete disaster. (it probably will))

MACK BRODY: Thank you, thank you, and welcome all, to the swankiest Godly get-down to EVA hit the capital of the Beaver State! Now, let us…

(Frank tugs at the sleeve of Mack, who was ready to get on a roll. Whispering something into his ear, the Bronze Bomber then looks back to the crowd, smiling.)

MACK BRODY: Sorry. I’m being told that those no-nothing ne’er-do-wells in Salem have the capital. Feh. Salem’s the home of all them… witch… trial things! We’re all Goddy and stuff, we don’t like witches in our house!

(And with that outburst, the eyes of the small crowd of people look on. The women look up, now all slack-jawed while the men stop skimming in the Bible long enough to find out whether or not masturbation actually WAS some sort of sin. Frank nods to Ryan, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.)

FRANK PIERCE: Okay, I know the movie thing was my idea, but this is just begging for a sh*tkicking.

RYAN GALLWAY: I told you we should’ve gone to the White Power Rally in Seaside.

FRANK PIERCE: …That, in NO way, is better than this.

(Annnnnnnnddddd back to the stage where Mack Brody continues.)

MACK BRODY: Thank you! Now, please, let us settle down and get today’s proceedings underway. You see, I come to you from the East. Mine eyes have seen many a-great things in this world. And the thing that brings me here today is to lead by example. You see, this body that has been sculpted in the Lord’s very image is a temple…. A temple in which you need to get down on your knees and pray as I shower you right in the face with salvation!

(Behind the Heirs, the Reverend seems very much ready to flip his lid, but he’s being calmed by several of the other ministers who are probably attributing Mack Brody’s statements to his status as “one of those outsider fellers.”)

MACK BRODY: Now, you see, by leading by example, I come here because unbeknownst to those without the blessed invention of a 56” Plasma TV, they may not know that a war is being waged! For there exists a band… a band of no-good, low-down, false prophets!

(And shockingly enough, the crowd is now hanging on Mack Brody’s every word, still wondering what the hell he was going on about. Some of the more faithful goers put their flabby arms around their young to try and shield them from whatever evils Mack protested about.)

MACK BRODY: You see, friends and neighbors I love… thyly… these false prophets can come to you when you least expect it. They will disguise themselves as the faithful, seeking to touch you with just the tip of a finger… then the tip of something more… A thimble of darkness, if you will. We hear it’s a really TINY tip of evil that looks like a Tic Tac even at its fullest… uh… heights. But evil is still enough, no matter how smalleth the package might be!

MAN IN AUDIENCE: How will we know what one of these beings looks like?

WOMAN IN AUDIENCE: Yes, tell us!

MACK BRODY: My constituents… and homies, let us not jump thy gun. For what you do not know is that there is a group of men who travel night and day among these roads we’ve built with our own hands. Men who travel about, spreading false promises, filling the heads of the youthful and innocent with all kinds of heretic beliefs. They tout themselves as saviors when really; they are nothing more than covetous hatemongers who would sell their own mothers up the river. Professional WRESTLERS that have touched down here in Portland to take what’s yours.

(Behind him, the Reverend and his ministers seem a bit perturbed again. However, Mack Brody seemingly has the situation under his control as he grasps the pew with both hands, getting his point across.)

MACK BRODY: And what’s the way to counter these heathens coming into town, trying to lull people into a false sense of security by not aptly replying in a timely manner when you’ve done everything to call them out, trying to get them to listen to reason? Philippians 4:13 reminds us that "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." Do you, broheims and broheimettes, know what this says?
(The crowd responds in utter silence. He takes this as a no.)

MACK BRODY: This tells us that when the final battle comes and when the dust is cleared, we can all safely let them know, according to… uh… Darwinius 365:24… “J/K about that whole meek inheriting the Earth nonsense. The meek will know their place in the circle of life and shan’t be able to hear us while they’re all the way back down in the low-card Hell.

(By this point, the entire group has come alive with murmuring while Frank motions for Mack to wrap this sh*t up. Nodding to his side, Mack complies with his request.)

MACK BRODY: Myself and my allies in arms here will slay the false prophets and will take their treasure, giving it to those who can truly respect, value, and appreciate such things. Semper fi, stercus accidit, and Tua mater tam antiquior ut linguam latine loquatur.

(And finally, a black power fist.)

MACK BRODY: WORD.

(And with that, Mack Brody quickly steps off the pulpit as the trio quickly gets the f*ck out of Dodge, leaving a murmuring crowd behind them before the jig is truly up. As they exit the building and walk down the vast steps of the building, Ryan Gallway scratches his head.)

RYAN GALLWAY: Wait… so… what the f*ck was the whole point of this, guys?

FRANK PIERCE: Simple. We’re praying Anthology will actually have a good comeback this time.

FADE.
 

GARTHIsTheLaw

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<i>(Fade in on an empty table in the middle of a large, dark room. Most of the room's features are tough to make out, but the table is in focus and a chair facing away from it can be seen, albeit poorly, behind it. After a few seconds, a hand appears from the left and sets a cell phone down on the table. As the owner of the hand – presumably Copycat, given his build and hair length, though he's out of focus – walks over and sits down in the chair, looking away from the table, we can hear the other end of the phone loud and clear, as it appears to be set on the speaker function)</i>

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> First message. From...

<b>Voice:</b> Dennis Richards, attorney at law.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> Received ... yesterday. At ... 10:36 a.m.

<b>Richards:</b> James? This is Dennis. Listen, I really need to talk to you about this situation. But if you're not going to pick up your phone, I guess I'll just have to leave what information I can give you now. I told you before that I think we've got a very good chance of avoiding any charges related to violence, and that's the direction it looks like things are going to go in talking with the Ryan attorneys. It's actually kind of ironic, if you're in the mood to appreciate that sort of thing right now. Running over a man with your car, and having it be clearly premeditated, would have put you in a lot of trouble under normal circumstances. But because of the nature of the wrestling business, it won't be too tough for me to stop any charges from coming of it, even if the victim was the owner of the company.

The trouble isn't really with Ryan, anyway; it's with his wife. She's saying you paid that guy to kidnap her. And because you didn't even tell him what you were planning to do, he's just a little bit unhappy about facing some trouble himself, and he's not going to be on your side in this thing. Now, I'm sure we can convince everyone that what you did to Mrs. Ryan wasn't officially kidnapping any more than what you did to her husband was assault of attempted manslaughter or whatever ridiculous charges their attorneys are trying to scare me with, but if we're going to do that, you need to meet me halfway here. You won't need to say anything in particular; you just need to say something, show the world you're alive and of sound mind. Please call me back when you get this. You're only making it harder on yourself by trying to hide from the world.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> End of message. Next message. From...

<b>Voice:</b> Joe Clarke.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> Received ... yesterday. At ... 4:18 p.m.

<b>Clarke:</b> Cat! I suppose I should have known better than to think you'll take my calls if you're not taking anyone else's, even Icekold's, but you know I've got to try, right? Listen, man, you know I'm not the kind of guy who goes around complaining about how much so-and-so has “changed” or whatever, but you've got a lot of people worried about you. I don't give a damn if you call me back, but I wish you would at least acknowledge some of the people who care about you here. I mean, for hell's sake, Jared and Sean are calling me to see if I can reach you. You see those guys all the time, the Cat Pack hasn't been in force for like a decade, and they're thinking I know something? That's a sign of desperation, Cat, and that's not what you want to be doing to people.

They'e wondering whether you're even going to show up to take on those Heirs of Wrestling jackasses at Black Dawn. I told them you've never no-showed a card as long as I've known you, but if there's even the slightest risk that you might let those idiots, who're like an the world's least funny version of <i>It's Always Sunny</i>, win because you didn't show, I don't want to take it. You're better than that, Cat. Do something here. I know you're angry that those idiots don't know how to run a league, but don't punish everybody for it, you know? Call somebody. Do something. I'll never forgive myself for saying something so gay, and I'll go to my grave denying it, but people care about you, man. Don't leave them in the dark.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> End of message. Next message. From...

<b>Voice:</b> Eddie Tyson.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> Received ... yesterday. At ... 6:20 p.m.

<b>Tyson:</b> Cat! What the hell are you thinking? Jesus, man, do you have any idea how much crap you've dumped on me here? You paid someone to kidnap a man's wife, and then you ran that man over with your car! And now you're not talking to anyone about it? I mean, not talking to the media, that's a smart plan, sure. But the rest of this is a damn disaster! Look, Cat, we had a deal, and I'm going to keep leaving messages reminding you of it until you pick up the damn phone and say, “Oh yeah, that's right, Eddie and I had a deal! Right, right, I remember Eddie was a little bit worried about being the agent of a pro wrestler turned actor, because they have a reputation for putting out such awful movies, but I gave him such a convincing sales pitch that I would be better than that, that he so generously decided to take a chance on me, even though he certainly doesn't need my big, dumb, 300-pound ass making trouble for him all the time!”

OK, OK, I'm sorry for that. Listen, Cat, you've been nothing but a success on the acting front. But when we talked about you going back into wrestling, I told you I was nervous about it, and you told me it was going to be a temporary thing, and it was only because you felt your fans deserved it, and you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your marketability. Remember that last part, about jeopardizing your marketability? <i>Kidnapping and vehicular assault jeopardize people's marketability!</i> Do you have even the <i>faintest</i> clue how much work I'm going to have to do to convince the next director that you're not going to pull a stunt like this? I'm sick of getting calls about this, Cat. People asking me, “Gee, Eddie, what's going on with that Cat guy? Have you heard anything from him?” I'm sick of saying, “No, Mr. Big Shot Hollywood Producer, I don't know what my client is thinking because he won't pick up his friggin' phone!” I don't need this. I'm getting hemorrhoids over here. Just call me, will you? We'll get this all settled.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> End of message. Next message. From...

<b>Voice:</b> Janet “Icekold” Matthews.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> Received ... yesterday. At ... 10:44 p.m.

<b>Icekold:</b> Cat? What's going on with you? I'm worried about you. I know you were upset with the way things were going over there in EPW, but this is ... this is just so far past the line you said you'd never cross. Maybe the people over in EPW don't understand how out of character this is for you, but I do. I've known you for 15 years, and you told me you'd never be one of those guys who goes out there and nearly kills someone just for the shock value, to get a point across. And then you run over Dan Ryan with your car? That isn't you, Cat. None of this is you. And I'm worried about what's going to happen to you if you keep doing what you're doing. You won't return my calls, you're not showing up for autograph signings and appearances, the neighbors say you haven't even been leaving the house ... I didn't think anything could get to you this much. I know what you're up against there. I know how frustrated you are. But this isn't the way the Copycat that I know does things, and it scares me.

I can't believe you didn't get suspended for what you did, but you're booked for Black Dawn. You have to know that by now, right? And I don't know what's going to happen. Part of me is worried you might not show up, and just abandon Jared and Sean to those morons. The other part of me is worried you will show up, and you'll do something you'll regret to those Heirs of Wrestling guys. I don't want anything like that to happen – not to you, not to your friends, not even to those three chaches. Just ... just let me help you with this, if it's too much for you right now. Nothing I'm doing is so important that I can't help if you need me. I wish you would let someone help you, whatever it is you need help with. Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to the people who care about you. We can help you fix what's wrong with EPW, with the whole business. Just don't go down a path that there's no way back from. There are people who'll miss you.

... Call me back. Please.

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> End of messages. To erase, press “7.” To save, press “9.”

<i>(Copycat gets up out of the chair and turns toward the table. The phone message, having not gotten a response, repeats its message)</i>

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> End of messages. To erase, press “7.” To save, press “9.”

<i>(Copycat picks up the phone from the table and stares at it for a few seconds. Then he presses a button)</i>

<b>Automated phone voice:</b> Messages erased. You have no more messages.

<i>(Copycat walks offscreen)</i>

<i>(Fade out)</i>
 

DBrunkGXW

Consigliere
Joined
Sep 11, 1997
Messages
4,815
Points
36
Age
48
Location
Katy, TX
OOC: Posted for Garth. Party on.

- - - - - - -

<i>(A combination of medical machine noise and low voices greets us as we fade in on a black-and-white image of a hospital hallway as shot from above and to an angle, presumably by a security camera. Sitting in a chair near the closed door to a hospital room, hands folded under her chin and staring straight ahead, is Alaina Troy-Ryan. She looks up and over to her right as a man – a hospital employee, by the look of him – walks over to her from that direction)</i>

<b>Man:</b> Mrs. Ryan? Someone here to see you.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> I thought you told me he couldn't have any visitors right now.

<b>Man:</b> She says she's not here to see your husband, she's here to see you.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> Who is she?

<b>Man:</b> Name is ... Janet Matthews. Sound familiar?

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> I don't know that name. I'm not ...

<b>Man:</b> She asked me to tell you that it's very important. That it's regarding your husband and the man who put him here.

<i>(There's a long pause as Troy-Ryan appears to consider the situation)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> ... Fine. Send her up, I guess. But you'll keep an eye on her, right? Like I said, I don't know who she is.

<b>Man:</b> I don't think she means you any harm. But we'll make sure things are kept under control.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> Thank you.

<i>(The employee walks offscreen and there's a few seconds of dead time as Troy-Ryan sinks back into her chair. Soon, approaching footsteps are heard. Troy-Ryan looks over to her right, then quickly gets up out of her chair and pivots around to the left side of it, putting it between her and whoever is approaching)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> Stop. Stop! Don't let her get any closer.

<b>Man:</b> Ma'am?

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> I know who she is.

<i>(The camera shot changes to one in color and at the ground level. Troy-Ryan, on the opposite side of the chair from the camera, points directly toward the camera as it heads toward her, then goes around to the site and zooms out)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> She's Icekold. She's Copycat's friend. I know you. You think I haven't seen you before?

<i>(The camera pans to the left to show a woman, ordinary-looking except for her hair, which is dyed ice blue, standing opposite and about 20 feet away from Troy-Ryan. The hospital employee stands between the two women, and the woman on the left – ostensibly Icekold, Copycat's one-time manager – makes no move to get past him)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> Mrs. Ryan, please. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just here to talk.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> Did he send you? Copycat sent you, didn't he? What does he want?

<b>Icekold:</b> Please just hear me out. I wouldn't have said it was important if it wasn't. Just let me say what I came here to say and I'll leave you alone.

<i>(There's a brief silence as Troy-Ryan seems to think it over. Icekold waits patiently)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> OK. Five minutes.

<i>(The camera follows Icekold as she walks over to Troy-Ryan, stopping a few feet away from her with the hospital employee still between them)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> Honestly, it's not about what he wanted me to say, or what I think he wanted me to say, anyway. I'm here out of concern – for him and for your husband and for everybody else in EPW.

<i>(Icekold pauses, possibly expecting a response, but she doesn't get one, so she continues)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> Look, you're used to seeing people promise to rain destruction down on everyone who's ever wronged them. I'm sure Dan has suffered some pretty serious injuries over the years – maybe on the level Cat inflicted, maybe not. This hits close to home for you on several levels, I'm sure, but you've seen things like this before, right?

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> What's your point?

<b>Icekold:</b> My point is that you and your husband shouldn't take this as a random act of violence, born out of frustration. Because nothing Cat does is random, and his threshold for frustration is higher than almost anybody else's I've seen in this business. I have no idea what's going on in his head right now. I've tried to get him to tell me, but he's shut me out – shut everyone out. He hasn't even talked to anyone since Aggression 51, including me; all I've heard from him is one e-mail. You have to understand, he and I have been friends for 15 years now, and I'm probably the closest confidante he has. For him to not even talk to me about this, I ... I don't know what to think about it.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> What did he ask you to tell me?

<i>(Icekold pauses, clearly not ready to give an answer to that question)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> Please let me finish saying what I have to say, and I'll get to what he told me.

<i>(Troy-Ryan nods in response, and Icekold continues)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> You have to understand that Cat isn't like the next guy. He may be turning into a monster, but he won't be some mindless monster running on instinct. He's going to think through every step he takes. He's never crossed this line before – attacking someone brutally outside the ring just for wronging him, someone who didn't even lay a finger on him – and I can't tell you where it's all going to end up, as much as I wish I could. But I can tell you that whatever he's planning isn't going to end with what he did to your husband. Anything that would push Cat over this line, this line he promised he would never cross, has to have been significant enough to make something snap in his mind. I have absolutely no idea what he's capable of as a monster. But if you combine what he's normally capable of with what he did at Aggression 51, it makes him dangerous. I'm scared of what he might do next. And even though I've been worried about what might happen to Cat lots of times, I've never been worried about what he might do.

<i>(There's a pause. Troy-Ryan breaks the silence)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> Is that it? What did he want you to tell me?

<b>Icekold:</b> I'm sorry. He ... all he told me to do is ask if your husband is willing to listen to reason.

<i>(There's another pause. Troy-Ryan's face contorts with anger)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> That's it? The same thing he said when he ran down Dan in that parking lot? You came all the way here just to repeat him? What did you hope to accomplish?

<b>Icekold:</b> Please! I told you, I didn't come here just to deliver the message Cat sent me. I came here to warn you. This is going to get worse before it gets better. Even if neither of you is at Black Dawn, if Cat is there, he's going to do something terrible, I just know it. Those Heirs of Wrestling guys don't have a clue what they're getting themselves into. I've seen their promos. They're just here to have a good time. They're not ready for the ... for the darkness Cat is going to carry with him to that ring. Someone's going to get seriously hurt, maybe even worse than your husband was. And I don't want that to happen any more than you do.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> So what? What can you possibly expect me to do?

<b>Icekold:</b> Give him what he wants. Hear him out.

<i>(Troy-Ryan seems jarred by that statement, as though she doesn't know what to make of it)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> He's been heard. Dan just hasn't thought–

<b>Icekold:</b> I know your husband hasn't agreed with his ideas. But maybe he ought to consider it. Look, I don't know what ideas Cat has, but in the end, I think you'll be better off incorporating some of them, even if they're small and insignificant ones. I can't imagine any of his suggestions will be as destructive as his behavior will be if he feels he's still being ignored.

<b>Troy-Ryan (angrily):</b> So that's it? He kidnaps me, then runs my husband down with a car, puts him in the hospital, and in turn, we should do him a <i>favor</i>? Even if I went for that, Dan wouldn't.

<b>Icekold:</b> You're his wife. Convince him. Look, I'm not here looking out for my own interests, or even Cat's. I'm here looking out for his well-being, and yours, and your husband's, and EPW's. And I think everyone will be better off if you at least give Cat a chance.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> Well ... even if I do, what does he even want? Is it still about firing a member of H.O.P.E.?

<b>Icekold:</b> I don't know. But I doubt it. I think he wants something else. I don't know what it is, and I'm not sure I could explain it even if I did. You just have to find out.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> ... How do I do that?

<i>(Icekold shrugs her shoulders sadly)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> Ask him, I guess.

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> But you said he's not talking to anyone.

<b>Icekold:</b> I know. I wish I could help you more. Find him at Black Dawn. Find out what he wants before he tries to show you by hurting someone else, like those Heirs of Wrestling guys. That's the only advice I can give you.

<i>(There's an awkward pause. After a few seconds, Icekold turns to leave and starts walking away. Troy-Ryan calls after her, and Icekold turns around)</i>

<b>Troy-Ryan:</b> You're sure you can't talk some sense into him?

<b>Icekold (her voice wavering):</b> I'm trying. I am. But I don't know. I just don't know what's going through his head anymore.

<i>(She turns to leave again)</i>

<b>Icekold:</b> I'm so sorry.

<i>(Icekold walks offscreen. Troy-Ryan follows her departure with her eyes, then returns and sits back down in her chair)</i>

<i>(Fade out)</i>
 

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