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Pressure Chief
Jan 1, 2000
(FADEIN: To the opulent, hand-manicured gardens in the southwest-rear quadrant of the HOLLYWOOD ESTATES in Bel-Air, California. Standing in the far background, sitting with his legs splayed open wearing a white tuxedo with a black bowtie hanging loose around his neck, open dress shirt, is a bearded and close-shaved BLAINE HOLLYWOOD, hands clasped and bent over looking at the ground. In the foreground is LAMONT HOLLYWOOD, wearing all-white cabana shirt, pants and big dark Rayban shades. He smiles the most . . . uncomfortable smile we've seen come from him at the camera.)

LAMONT HOLLYWOOD: "New Frontier Wrestling, I present to you a CASE STUDY in the visage of one Blaine Hollywood, my ONLY SON and the FUTURE PERFECT. A man who you see who at the tender age of 30 is a RING VETERAN in this business, the cornerstone of Tag Team wrestling, holding the NFW World tag and Everette belts on SEVERAL occasions, Blaine Hollywood without a shadow of a doubt and with the gift of sight to anyone blessed with it. . . should easily be the NFW World Heavyweight Champion by this point. (BLAINE sneers.) But all good intentions are sometimes met with adversity. Blaine Hollywood was relegated to a NICHE spot in NFW, and his star shined the brightest as a decorated tagteam champion, but that time is OVER. And since then, Blaine has floated along - a corked bottle with the secret lost art of being a PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER, bobbing along in the sea of mediocrity that is this business in 2014. When wrestling isn't what's needed, it's what ENTERTAINMENT needs. What NFW needs right now, is Blaine Hollywood, now, more than ever."

(BLAINE gets up and stretches, and smooths down his suit)

LAMONT: "Calvin Carlton can easily say he's been the guiding force in Blaine's career up until the end of his tagteam title dynasty, and also the destruction of it. Calvin Carlton is now trying to emulate me - walking around here in white suits and trying to ape my deal - but he can HAVE THAT right now, because soon enough our paths will cross, and he'll be begging off just like my Wednesday S&M Social Hour Sleepover at my downtown LA apartment--Calvin SCREWED MY BOY'S MIND UP. He was MINDWASHED by Calvin Carlton to believe that his role was being a tag team pawn, a UTILITY PLAYER. A LANE-STAYER. And Hollywood's are NOTHING OF THE SORT. Hollywoods are the TASTEMAKERS in this business, and since that poison was injected into his head, HIS FATHER, a REAL MAN needed to talk some real sense into his head, and (laughs) there's ZERO chance of him looking back on failure anymore. (BLAINE cringes!) At RELOADED 22, Blaine ASCENDS THE STAIRS TO IMMORTALITY, (looks down) at the hands of his arch-enemy, his 'frenemy', Dorchester Stratton.

"You see Dorchester, you know in the back of your head that this day would come. You knew, all those years ago, when you were in the lockerroom stealing your rat's eye makeup to put on your face to hide the puffy eyes from all of your crying because you were facing the Hollywood Wrecking Crew that night, YOU KNEW THEN that some day you would face a reckoning. That DC Stratton wrestling Blaine was a man who was out of his league, and you saw Blaine DESTROY YOU ALL OVER THIS COUNTRY, and you KNEW! That one day you'd see him again, and Calvin Carlton knew that he had better make sure you guys were on the same team so you weren't ever shown up again. And at the end of DYNASTY, and into the Hellfire Club, Blaine bit his lip, Dorchester, he bit his tongue because he knew that you didn't really have the heart to be here. Your killer instinct is PAINTED ON. THIS MAN is a brutal, cold HEARTLESS CAD. How many times has he put his knees through the back of Shaniqua Carlton? How many times has he LAID OUT THE TELEVISION CHAMPION, Dorchester? How many times have you been mangled and BENT at the hands of the most educated KILLER in this business? It was only a matter of time, Dorchester. Your games of patty cake with Jack Bryant were just that, but you're not going to get a "best of" series with Blaine, Stratton, because he'll only need ONE TIME to take that Television title from you - just ONE TIME. It's a theme these days, Dorchester - time. You'rs is running out, and the new era, the new TIME OF THE OXONION begins at RELOADED 22."

(BLAINE walks up to the camera and butts past LAMONT, a good half a foot taller than his father. He rubs both his hands down his face, and seethes, getting DIRECTLY in the camera's lens)

BLAINE: (Inhales) "I . . . have been QUIET, for TOO LONG. I . . . have been SILENT! for too long. I have stood idly by while CHURLS and boorish KNOW-NOTHINGS continue to kill this business slowly with their unrefined air - I WILL NO LONGER BREATHE THIS AIR! I REVOLT AGAINST YOU ALL! Malik Anderson, you were NEVER a brother to me, you were a PACKMULE that I happily sat upon, as you carried my bags during our career. You were the unpolished, ghetto, fat poor GARBAGE that I secretly despised as soon as we got our hands raised for yet another Wrecking Crew victory and gold gift, but there is no kindness in my eyes... LOOK AT MY EYES, MALIK ANDERSON! MY EYES ARE COLD AND BLACK LIKE A SHARK . . . (laughs to himself, and backs away from the camera, shaking his head. LAMONT grits his teeth) although these eyes are green, Malik... there is NO JEALOUSY IN THEM, NO ENVY FOR YOU... because at Reloaded 22, I will take great pleasure in BREAKING YOUR BACK and tossing you aside like your absent FATHER did to your childhood. Malik Anderson, enjoy your ten minutes of rest, as I DESTROY and EVISCERATE the Television champion on LIVE Cable. By the time you get your greasy fat mound to the ring they'll be nothing left but gore and entrails . . . of what was once Dorchester Stratton... (LAMONT chortles!) Fait Accompli. (BLAINE makes the sign of the cross)

BLAINE: "Dorchester Stratton... I have said for YEARS that I am the FUTURE PERFECT, I am wrestling DIVINITY, a divine creation gifted with wrestling GREATNESS. When I speak, the words from my lips are GODSPELL, and YOU and that raggedy old nomad Mike Randalls or Malik Anderson will hold me down NO LONGER. At Reloaded 22, I will REND THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES, and BREAK YOUR RAT'S BACK, (laughs) either in the ring, or in my bed (LAMONT laughs again) NO MATTER, and I will leave you with nothing. . . (breathes) but the slow, fickle sands of time, slipping away through your open fingers . . . which once held the NFW World Television title. Your world is ENDING, and the time of Blaine Hollywood will finally begin, and your spilled blood will mark the warning to all who dare oppose me - I will give quarter no more, and will dispel VIOLENCE to all and sundry.

The words from my lips travel to your ears on gossamer wings, and what I say is GOLDEN, and after we meet in Miami? I will have it around my waist to PROVE IT."

(LAMONT moves aside BLAINE and motions for the belt across his waist like Vanna White turning letters, cackling like a maniac! FADEOUT as the camera slowly pans away.)
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