In the best interest of WHO?

[LQJT86C]

(FADEIN: Flatbush, Brooklyn – store interior of Academy Records, where STRIFE’S DISCIPLES peruse the aisles of old and new vinyl albums. LUCKY SEVEN stands sideways to the camera in green short-shorts, black flats, and a vintage cut-off Castor V. Strife Productions t-shirt with the company’s gold stars over the eyes of a young woman’s face. Her black and blonde hair hangs beneath a backwards New Jersey Devils hat, and after flipping through stock for several seconds, she pulls out a Bunny Wailer album. As she starts to walk forward, ALEX AUSTIN cuts in front of the camera and walks in front of her. He’s in cut-off pants, a plain green shirt, and wears a necklace with a shard of the glass that Castor broke through attached to the end)

AUSTIN: “In an age of digital music files that cost less than a dollar and cost nothing to steal, carried by the thousands in mp3 players that you can take with you anywhere...”

(Strokes his beard, smiles, and casually picks up an Allman Brothers album from a stock shelf – puts it back)

AUSTIN: “...people still come to places like this to buy vinyl. They pay good money for record players to listen to them on at what, 10 songs a clip? 11? It may not be the choice of popular demand, but there is still a market for QUALITY. Because at the end of the day, a person with intelligence and a taste for the things in this world that last, KNOWS that vinyl sounds better and lasts longer.”

“Some of us refuse to buy into this paper plate society that leverages itself on disposable, replaceable goods – phones that break after two years, engines that blow after five. What has staying power anymore? WHO?”

(Gets on his haunches, clasps hands together – the camera follows him down)

AUSTIN: (lowers voice) “I want all you prospects and future talents to listen to me good: you need to leave NFW. You need to leave when the leaving’s good, and there’s no better time than the present.”

(Stands up, raises a finger and his voice)

AUSTIN: “Because if you paid CLOSE ATTENTION at Reloaded 15, then you watched as another one BIT the proverbial FUCKING dust! That goddamn staging of Macbeth they called a main event saw Jack Bryant – and I told you this was gonna happen, Jack, didn’t I? – saw him put through the meat grinder for a good 25 minutes and sustain POSSIBLE career ending injuries, in a FIFTH MATCH with a known headhunter, the fucking Matt Cooke of New Frontier Wrestling, and Jacky Boy fell on his sword for what...”

“FOR WHAT?”

“...the fucking TV title?”

(Leans back and looks at LUCKY SEVEN who makes the ‘jerk-off’ gesture)

AUSTIN: (purses lips and shakes head) “My thoughts exactly. You have that GOOFBALL Greg Herpin on his knees, praying to God after the match which, by the way, as a proud Atheist, Greg, THAT OFFENDS ME. But he’s kneeling on the canvas like a pew, PRAYING TO THE ALMIGHTY JOE PESCI that these two men survive the night!”

(Gets down on knees and wrings his clasped hands in mock desperation)

AUSTIN: “OH DEAR GOD! DEAR JESUS! PLEASE WATCH OVER THESE TWO SOULS! IF ONLY YOU COULD HAVE SEEN FIT TO PROTECT THEM DURING BATTLE!”

(Serious face; stands up)

AUSTIN: “And if there was a God, Greg, he surely would have came down from Heaven like in the parable about the man who turned away the rescue boat because he trusted God would save him from the flood, and he would have you told you...”

“My son...that’s why I gave you the striped shirt!”

“YOU FUCKING MORON!”

(Runs hand over hair)

AUSTIN: “If you were so concerned, why didn’t you stop the goddamn match earlier? That’s why you get paid the big bucks! But of course, you’re not that dumb. It’s all part of the mirage, the ACT that this company puts on, pretending to care about the athletes while they eat off their paper plate asses with extra barbecue and discard them into rusty campground trash barrels. ONTO THE NEXT ONE, right Eddie?”

“Just look at the track record: NFW had Dan Ryan in his prime, and blew up a cage with him inside. Shane Southern, remember him? They let a bunch of thugs from another company declare open season on him until the he FINALLY couldn’t take it anymore, and headed out of town. Same thing with Nova – the company’s former co-Prez caused him to sustain more head and brain injuries than Junior Seau, and he was never the same after that. In 10 years, the man’s going to be scooping grits out of a corroded crock pot, slurring his speech and POSSIBLY murdering his entire family. The Nova family’s blood will be on YOUR hands, Eddie...”

(Shakes head)

AUSTIN: “Then Dorchester goes out and kills the Golden Goose, who formally retired this week in an...(wipes fake tear) emotional farewell.”

“So what better idea than to take Jack Bryant, future star, future CHAMP, the man who just might carry this companyonce everybody realizes that Castor Strife IS NEVER COMING BACK – and put him in a cage with Dungchester Crapton, a man who long ago hit his talent ceiling and competes for no other reason than to injure people who are better than him.”

“Good job, Prez. You’ve become a bigger impediment to the health of young athletes than the New York Mets medical staff and Greg Oden’s knees combined.”

“And if there wasn’t already enough evidence of your collusion with the Hellfire Dynasty Clan, you’ve now opted to TAG with JJ against The Guild – as if you’ve somehow inconvenienced JJ.”

(Wrings hands)

AUSTIN: “POOR HIM! Having the boss in his corner against the only true threat to the enemy of NFW’s young talent – The Guild.”

“That’s right! And why are we such a threat? Because just like The Great Man himself, we have never been ones to put our fate in someone else’s hands. We look out for one another, and we triumph – or live to fight another day.”

“And I have INDEED been charged by Professor Strife to do two things here in NFW: destroy JJ Deville, and offer asylum to any and all athletes who seek it. Jack, Ocho, Harmen, Nova, all you need to do is say the word, and The Guild has your back.”

"Really, who else is going to stand up for the boys around here? Impulse? Ahh, the REVOLUTION MAN! So committed to change that volunteers to work EXTRA LONG HOURS for Eddie Mayfield! Randall, you fucking white Uncle Tom piece of shit. You take that title back to your cabin and remember that a REAL CHAMPION makes his own rules - he doesn't let the boss double his shifts for nothing in return, like some McJob working son of a bitch, slaving away at french fries because he's proud to be shift leader. Keep hustling, little man, because your ass is going to wind up like chewing gum like the rest of these poor stiffs who've let Eddie Mayfield ruin their careers."

"The smart people in the locker room will learn to see the world our way...learn to see it The Guild's way..."

(Seven walks forward, and he puts his arm around her)

AUSTIN: “Because like vinyl, Castor Strife will live forever, and so will his legacy. While the rest of you toil and burn beneath the boot-heel of your oppressors, Strife’s Disciples will continue under his watchful eye, and have what it is in this world that we truly desire.”

(Runs his hand along Seven’s hair, pulls it back as she looks at him seductively, then lets go)

AUSTIN: “Two on Two? Works for me, Eddie. It’s gonna take about 20 seconds in the ring with a true master of the grappling arts before you realize you fucked up. And if your threshold for pain is somehow equal to the task of what I can inflict, it’s really no problem...”

(Austin stops at the front of the store, where STEEL VIPER is standing in cut-off sleeves with his massive arms crossed, sweating, breathing beneath a black gas mask)

AUSTIN: “...’cause if Seven doesn’t cave one of your fucking heads in with a well-placed kick, the STEEL VIPER can always pull you apart like a telephone book.”

(Austin and Seven walk out of the picture as we close-up on Viper, whose chest moves up and down with violent heavy breathing)

(FADEOUT)

 

[brusch]

(FADE IN: Chicago. Specifically, Rogers Park - the far north melting pot that's half art district, half gang warzone. Leyenda de Ocho, in a forest green Zelda-themed mask, pastel pink running shirt and black gym shorts, is running up to the camera along the beaches of Lake Michigan. Perspiring heavily from the morning's long run, he lightly jogs in place as he delivers his brief message.)

Ocho: "Austin, I hear you, and I get what you're saying. Believe me when I tell you that I have as much, if not more, beef with the Hellfire Club as you.

We may have different methods. We may have different views on right and wrong in this world. But...I won't get in your way. Putting a stop to the Hellfire Club is bigger than that.

Just two conditions: stay out of MY way...and leave Rook Black to me."

(Ocho resumes his run as the camera fades to black.)

 

[Rook Black]

ROOK: "Alex, you are hilarious."

(FADE IN: ROOK BLACK, wearing his newly awarded SWANK CRUSH VELVET BLAZER WITH THE RED TRIM, no shirt, TRIPLE CROWN CHAMPIONSHIP, black and red track pants, CUSTOM black and red LIMITED EDITION HFC NB 1080s with BLACK LACES. He stands in the wide, bare room in his home, with the hardwood floor)

ROOK: "Are you seriously trying to paint a picture of an abusive company because of the results of an I Quit match?"

(A young woman in a black and gray tuxedo with septum piercing and and a bright blue fauxhawk approaches ROOK wheeling a small cart over. On the cart is a large basin of water hot enough to visibly produce some steam.)

ROOK: "That big bad Eddie Mayfield bent Jack Bryant's pinkey finger until he agreed to a match that might potentially lead to an injury?"

(From the cart, Fauxhawk removes a director's chair and unfolds it for ROOK.)

ROOK: "Yeah. Eddie's such a bad guy. Like the time he forced this guy who used to be champion around here to compete in this scaffold thing and defend his title, and whoops. Darn. So much for that guy ever competing again in any place that matters."

(Fauxhawk, with the usual fear and reverence of any person in the service industry who has endured eye contact with J.J. DeVille, carefully removes the HFC blazer and puts it on a wooden hanger. She coaxes ROOK into the director's chair.)

ROOK: "Jack Bryant was little more than a mindless animal before he gave himself multiple concussions that night. I'm sure the brain damage will not noticeably change him for better or worse. Case in point, I'm sure given the chance he'd sign up for that match against Dorchester again as soon as he's healthy enough to shove and punch his way out of the hospital."

(Fauxhawk carefully drapes a towel over Rook's shoulders.)

ROOK: "The stupid Alabama redneck put his name down on the dotted line with intent, without a care to what the consequences would be. America, have yourselves a look at what becomes of the stubborn southern white boy when he's too stupid to know when to quit."

(Fauxhawk dipps a wet washcloth in the basin, wrings it out, and gently places it over ROOK's head, obscuring his eyes but leaving us with the unfortunate company of his mouth.)

ROOK: "Just like that other guy who concocted that glass ceiling scaffold nonsense, and bought it. Sucks to be psychodrama addict suddenly overtaken by boredom leading to making a poorly concealed suicide attempt rather than continue enduring the horrible stress of being second best to the likes of me."

(Fauxhawk sharpens a straight razor on a leather strap.)

ROOK: "Alex, these are grown men who make their own decisions. Eddie has consistently been laissez-faire. So don't pin it on the boss for failing to stop you from doing something stupid. Don't pin it on the Herpin either. He asked them plenty of times if they wanted it to stop, and the answer was consistently `no'. I think that pretty much absolves him of whatever nonsense you're trying to insinuate."

(Satisfied, Fauxhawk approaches ROOK and removes the towel from his head. His eyes remain closed.)

ROOK: "So, yeah. Good work with the well thought out propaganda. I'm sure looking at the precedent of what Legion got out of joining The Guild has caused loads of folk to call asking to sign up to join your club. I bet they've love to join mine, but we're feeling pretty exclusive right now, so we'll-call-you-don't-call-us is in effect."

(Fauxhawk bites down on her lower lip. Her eyes narrow in intense concentration, as she starts carefully shaving the stubble off of ROOK's dome.)

ROOK: "Which of course, brings me to the only interesting person in this conversation."

(ROOK's eyes open.)

ROOK: "Player One."

ROOK: "Continue?"

 

[LQJT86C]

(FADEIN: ALEX AUSTIN is somewhere – the Tom Adler Erotic Museum? No. Probably some street in Flatbush. LUCKY SEVEN is with him. No Viper)

AUSTIN: “Good idea, Rook. Let’s ASK Legion how aligning with The Guild worked out with him. Better yet, why don’t you just search out his IMDB page – the one that he DIDN’T have before he hooked up with the Maestro himself.”

“Legion has more film credits to his name than he has NFW wins. Literally, there are more people commenting in a thread on Legion’s IMDB page about who his stunt double was in “Blade 5: Double Reckoning” than bought a Rook Black t-shirt in the last two years COMBINED.”

“You think I’m making this up? I’m not. And in thirty years from now, when Jack Bryant is sitting in a wheelchair 30 years from now at a fan expo table, drooling from the lip because his raw meat block of a brain needs as many cells as it can muster to count the royalties he’ll owe Mayfield for selling autographed wrestling dolls...”

(Takes breath)

“...Legion will be living comfortably in Pompano Beach on the 401K THAT CASTOR STRIFE PURCHASED FOR HIM in 2012!”

SEVEN: “And if you don’t believe us, TYPE IT INTO GOOGLE YOU SUCK-ASS LOSER!”

AUSTIN: “Not to mention, Jack Bryant doesn’t GET to a fifth match if not for us! Because the FACT remains, Rook, that The Guild is the only entity in the game today that is standing up for the boys against JJ’s Clown Car.”

“Keep on priding yourself on being a club of exclusion. Keep on sugar coating the rampant workplace abuse that goes on here – while The Guild CONTINUES to be the only protection that anybody has.”

(Seven steps in front of the camera)

SEVEN: “They should call you Shift+B, ‘cause you are BOLD, Rookie-Dookie. Calling the Great Man number two to yourself?! ROOK! Come on! Really? You don’t even have the third most valuable title in NFW. Not even the guy with the MOST valuable title is ranked ahead of Castor Strife on any respectable website.”

“You know it – I know it – Eddie knows it – the number one talent in THE WORLD left this company, PERIOD. End of story! Somebody must have sat on your mute button during his reign, because when The Man was here you didn’t have shit-all to say. Now he’s gone and you CAN’T stop talking about him! That’s pathetic. I mean honestly. Where’s your self-respect? I think you French-kissed it back into JJ’s mouth after he blew it into yours, you kinky toad”

“But even more offensive to me than you declaring yourself NUMBER ONE in the world, is you saying that you’re INTERESTING. Wow dude! You sure about that one? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you put the BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA in Rook BLAck.”

“You couldn’t entertain a cat with a ball of yarn! Rip Van Winkle wants to know where he can get your audio book! The internet falls asleep every time you log on! My – (eyelids start to shut) My own – (eyelids shut, heads drops)...”

(Alex nudges her arm)

AUSTIN: “HEY!”

(Seven’s pops her head up surprised and wide-eyed)

SEVEN: “Oh God what happened! Was I talking about Rook Black again?”

AUSTIN: “Alright, cut the shit. Hey Ocho, we’ve got your back. You’re the enemy of our enemy, and we wish you all the best against Human Nyquil.”

SEVEN: “NYQUIL!”

AUSTIN: “Because extinguishing Hellfire is what we’re all about. Doesn’t matter that you’re Player 1, or Player 2, or even Player 3, or whether it’s really Troy’s Nintendo at the end of the day. The whole system’s getting SHUT DOWN, and that’s a bad day for you, for JJ, and for all your fucking collaborators.”

(FLASH TO: Eddie Mayfield)

(FADEOUT)

 

[EastPrez]

(FLASH-CUT: To NFW President, ‘Hot Property’ EDDIE MAYFIELD, still standing arms-folded in front of a NFW PRESIDENTIAL SEAL backdrop, wearing the same Charcoal Grey PRADA suit from his response to JOE THE PLUMBER. He is coming down to the last quarter of his smoldering Camel Red, and scratches behind one of his ears absentmindedly.)

MAYFIELD: “You know what, I’m gonna start calling you Alex Autism, because you’re obviously socially retarded and probably stack cans in huge vertical lines to make sense of life’s little problems. This whole dog and pony act you’re promoting with MMA Miley Cyrus and my favorite video game mini-boss, Steel Viper is laughable, guy.

“See, I get it, I get what you’re doing Austin and I gotta commend it - I mean, we should ALL have someone to champion. Castor Strife clawed and scratched his way to the top of this business, but come on man -- he put HIMSELF in exile, and that’s HIS problem, and apparently YOURS. Not mine. I didn’t fire him, I didn’t hold him underneath a running garden hose until he quit. He’s sitting on his couch somewhere licking his wounds and collecting a check OFF OF ME, so save your collusion and conspiracy theories for these OTHER guys. I don’t care, and I’m not listening. Troy Windham is GONE. The mouse turds of the Windham Clan are finally swept up and are GONE. What’s LEFT, is JJ DeVille who thinks that HE is stirring the drink around here, and I don’t care WHERE it came from, JJ got his comeuppance and that’s something him and his little Goof Troop have to deal with. I’ve said this before, there is NO vacuum here - I am the power structure here, Austin. But as it stands, I DO have a problem with you trying to dictate policy with NOTHING to show for his resume besides some clingy shirts with slogans like ‘Eat at Joes’ and ‘Tap Out’ on them, and 1000 ways to hug a guy while he’s laying on his stomach. “Mounting”, I heard it called... (Smirks and ashes his cigarette)

But what we have here, is a crossroads. You want to get something going? You need to get some wins in NFW, Austin. You and your crew can start RIGHT HERE, at RELOADED. Steel Viper and I go WAYYYYY back, probably back when you were still making sound effects with your mouth and knocking action figures together, back in your ‘special’ class in the back of the elementary school, and I’d love a chance to drop him on his head. You want JJ? I won’t say the thought hasnt crossed my mind to dump him on his neck just as soon as we’re done our match, but from bell to bell, we’re on the same side, and buddy, you’re going to have to deal with Eddie Mayfield before any more of this agenda of yours sees daylight.

“Grapple with THAT.”

(FADEOUT)

 

[User Poets]

FADEIN: Champion.

"Hi Alex."

"Kick JJ's ass."

"But if you want this title taken from around my waist, there's an easy answer."

"You're supposed to be a wrestler, right?"

"There's a List that you're conveniently avoiding."

"Coward."

FADEOUT.

 

[LQJT86C]

(CUTTO: ALEX AUSTIN throwing a training bag and some other gear in the trunk of his car, a black 2011 Chevy Impala. He closes up the trunk and turns to the camera)

AUSTIN: "That's just great - the President of the company making cracks about autism at the expense of millions of afflicted children around the United States. You're a MODEL AMBASSADOR for the sport. But I wouldn't expect anything less from the man responsible for causing TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY in his own employees - a man who has beaten up women in the very ring where we perform."

"You know, I actually caught up with Anne Mystic recently. Did you know she's afraid to leave the house? She can't hear a car door slam or a plate drop without flinching. The poor woman is a wreck. Can't say the same would happen if you went after Lucky SEVEN that way. In fact, that would be a very POOR idea. She doesn't feel the same way about brain injuries that I do. She would love nothing more than to kick you upside the head so hard, you'll be writing yourself sticky notes to remember what you had for breakfast the day before."

"Speaking of bad memory, what kind of alternate universe do we live in that you are throwing money at a HOMELESS MAN to compete with you in a marquee match, while the proper LINEAR CHAMPION and most bankable star in wrestling today, my Teacher and Mentor Castor Strife, is on the sidelines recuperating his health waiting for El Presidente to quit the Billy Beane Moneyball act, show him just a LITTLE bit of respect, and PAY HIM WHAT HE'S WORTH!"

"Joe The Plumber doesn't need a match, Eddie. The man needs HELP. He's broke, he's hungry, brain damaged, desperate and most likely...drug addicted. Joe should be in a HOMELESS SHELTER. What you're doing by asking him to fight you is barely a degree removed from BUM FIGHTS."

"And you see...that's really where I get off parking myself at the mountain top, promising to make you, JJ, and the enemies of The Guild TAP faster than Gregory Hines. Because I'm in another class, and featuring me at the top of your dumb program is a CREDIT TO THE NEW FRONTIER and NOT the other way around!"

"I don't have to beat anybody, Eddie! I have what you call REAL CREDENTIALS, not only from the world of submission grappling, but from The Man himself, who taught me how to hone my grappling in the wrestling ring."

"The bottom line is, Alex Austin is nobody's superstar. Alex Austin is the ANTI-STAR. Just a man...a messenger...sent from the Prophet who fell through glass to save us from ourselves, and in his name I have arrived to extinguish Hellfire."

"And, if need be...you along with them. Don't push me."

(FADEOUT)

 

[EastPrez]

(FADEIN: PRESIDENT MAYFIELD, in front of a Maroon NFW backdrop, wearing a dark blue suit, black tie, white shirt, Camel Red in face.)

MAYFIELD: "Austin, COME ON, MAN."

"First off, Someone like yourself should know better than to think I care about your revisionist history--the fact that you know NOTHING about the business or your place in it, or what you think of me. (shakes head)

"I do gotta admit, every time you turn on the television and you see a 280-pound wrestler stuffed into a suit, it's kinda funny . . . (pulls at his collar absent-mindedly) I'm not that heavy, but to people out there, you just don't WANT to believe that a Professional Wrestler - a man who has made his name and career dropping people on their heads or jumping off of turbuckles can be taken seriously in a board room, right? (smirks) Who are we fooling, right? Because before I became President of NFW, I'll admit I didn't have 'media training', or the use for a publicist - I came from a world where you stand next to the Guerrilla position, and the promoter went, 'go out there and give me 7 minutes on your opponent, and get over the next PPV'. I KNOW how to talk, Austin. I know how to get over, Austin. I also know how to get under people's skin. Wrestling? I'm a PROFESSIONAL. (Smirks) NFW President? Same verse, same as the first, but I have a problem: I DO OR SAY WHAT THE HELL I WANT TO, and YOU can take it, or... yeah, you can still take it.

"So if I come out here, and call you a socially-stunted, drooling, punch-drunk LOUT who's heads' been struck more than a book of matches, man, you got me there. The sharks tell me that I probably gotta go do a charity spot, or wear a pin with a puzzle piece on it for three months, OK, so be it, but it still doesn't change the face that you made a point--unfortunately, it's forming the top of your head. (Smiles, takes a drag of his cigarette) I don't CARE.

"Austin, you're laughable, and you're not EVEN wrinkling my suit out here - you're BACKWASH. You wanna tell me about BUSINESS? Don't worry about Joe the Plumber - don't worry about Anne Mystic, a woman who could kick YOUR sorry ass, then give Pinkie Tuscadero some lessons on being a WOMAN - trying to paint a picture of me but it won't stick, Austin - YOU are like the 99th problem at the bottom of my daily agenda, not the first. (smiles)

"Apparently you missed one other thing in all of this - Castor Strife knows where my door is - and I'm right here. He can sit on his hands until he grows roots - that's his decision, and the longer you think you need to come out here and blast me about what the NEXT man is doing, you need to pay attention to what's in front of you, and that's going to be Bonnie Mayfield's only son who, admittedly, is not looking forward to you trying to 'mount' me and scoot me across the mat, trying to hug me, but what I DO have for you, is a different change of scenery - hope you like the view when I flip you upside down, then spin your f[BLEEEEEEEEEEP!]ng head into the mat like a torque drill. I call that the SCREWJOB, but all the same, you screwed YOURSELF thinking you could come into MY business and call me out. You don't have a pot, OR the piss to fill it, kid.

"THAT'S what's up, and THAT'S what you need to be focusing on--YOUR President that you've called out. I could care less what you do to JJ DeVille - I may even HELP you do it, but none of that's gonna help your agenda of... I'm not really certain? Since apparently you're not real good at paperwork, maybe you should make a LIST like everybody else around here of what you want to accomplish here, because right now, your sh[BLEEP!] is kinda loose, and your ass is showing, Austin. There's no funky looking cage here or Joe Rogaine, this is NFW, and the place where your little 4H club of a cult is gonna get FLUSHED at RELOADED 17. You can't end me, but I can sure as hell END YOU."

(FADEOUT)

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: A high-backed mahogany chair. Sitting in it, arms akimbo, is JJ DEVILLE, wearing a white dress shirt under a blue blazer adorned with the Hellfire Club insignia. He purses his lips and then starts.)

JJ: "WWJJD. What Would JJ Do. It's more than just a slogan on a T-Shirt -- a shirt that, by the way, outsells all of Impulse's gear. It's more than just a catchphrase. It's a question a certain type of person has asked themselves. It's the question the person at the mailroom who has been passed over for promotion after promotion over the years asks himself when he finally GETS said promotion and decides to enact his wrath upon the world. It's the question the secretary at the elementary school asks herself when the young, new teacher tells her dismissively to make some photocopies the same day she's caught having an affair with a co-worker. It's the question the young hire at the Wall Street firm asks himself after years of gladhanding his boss when there's a managerial change."

(JJ smirks.)

JJ: "And it's a question that Alex Austin is asking himself right now." (JJ steeples his fingers.) "You see, Alex -- I was in your position not that long ago. I was so obsequious and servile to a person I considered my better. But deep down inside my heart and soul... actually, NOT that deep... I craved what Troy Windham had. But it was not his money I wanted. It was not the fame. It was not the women. IT WAS THE POWER. I pulled string after sting until I finally TOOK IT. I am the template, Alex, for the protege who takes the crown from the mentor. I am what you aspire."

(JJ purses his lips.)

JJ: "Yes, Alex. I am not underestimating you. Not like Eddie Mayfield or Impulse or anyone else on this roster. In fact, Alex... dare I say that I APPLAUD you for following my footseps? It's an impressive move, Alex. But it's not a well-played one. It's now the one that I, the ultimate puppetmaster, would have made. For instance, I wouldn't have turned on Troy to do the bidding of some guy whose name everyone forget as quickly as the learned it and then wormed my way back to my hero's good graces. You, Alex... you could use a MENTOR. So... the devil's about to offer you a BARGAIN."

(JJ smirks and leans back.)

JJ: "Alex, I really don't like your tag partner. He's a low-rent, MMA steroid-infused goon that, more importantly, enacted harm upon your truly. Ohhhh I've been dreaming about how good it's going to be to judo toss him on his dumb dumb brain or kick him in his meth-rotted teeth. And you, Alex? You feel the same about Eddie that I do. He's DISMISSED you, Alex, whereas I... I *RESPECT* you. He's underestimating you when I am saluting you. And I, Alex, I want the same you do. I want to see Eddie Mayfield eliminated, once and for all. I damn near did it once already considering he was busy playing video games and dealing with a Class 5 migraine because of the paperwork maze I made him enter and was seconds away from quitting until Mike Randalls showed up and gave him a Norman Dale speech. Alex, it's simple."

(JJ purses his lips.)

JJ: "You give me what I want. And I give you what you want. Think about it, won't you?"

(FTB)

 

[User Poets]

JJ: "WWJJD. What Would JJ Do. It's more than just a slogan on a T-Shirt -- a shirt that, by the way, outsells all of Impulse's gear.

(FADEIN: Calico Rose, behind the bar at TC's Pub in clear, balmy Bronx, NY. She's wearing a T-Shirt with JJ DeVille's face on the front and the caption 'Plot Armor means... I don't have to know what I'm doing!' underneath it.

She's pouring shots.)

ROSE: "The biggest issue with the way you lie, JJ, is that your lies are very easy to poke holes in."

"I did some research in the lulls of the night."

The entire night has been a lull, so I also looked at a bunch of cat videos.

"Your T-Shirt, 'What Would JJ Do?' has sold sixteen thousand, two hundred and nine since it was first introduced. Add that to your 'Do What Thou Wilt' Hellfire Club shirt, which has sold nine thousand, four hundred and three."

"In total, since you started wrestling for this company..."

Which is dubious since you don't really wrestle...

"You've sold twenty five thousand, six hundred and twelve shirts."

I didn't know you had that many relatives.

And I poured out the shots.

"Now, RK doesn't really believe in T-Shirt sales. He's a wrestler, and he doesn't really think that his primary focus in the wrestling business should be to sell shirts. But back when he was named Number One Contender to Castor Strife's World Title, Eddie Mayfield asked him for some ideas."

"RK dismissed it and passed the request to me. I decided to go mirthful and submit the 'The I in Team stands for Impulse' idea."

"To date, since October of last year?"

"One hundred and forty three thousand, five hundred and six shirts sold. That's a lot of members of Team Impulse."

"And I decided to flex my 'I'm with the Champ' muscle and submit a design of my own."

I passed three of the shots to people off - camera and downed the fourth, all the while reaching under the bar and holding up a design of my own.

It featured a replica of the Hellfire Club crown engulfed in flames, only it was resting squarely on a cupcake. The front design advertised 'The Cupcake Club.' The back, which I showed after a few seconds, had the phrase 'We Also Did What We Wilted' down the center.

"It's been on sale for five weeks, and has sold six thousand and six."

"Total for RK and the Cupcake Club? One hundred forty nine, five hundred and twelve."

I poured another shot and downed it.

"I know your life's goal is to be recognized as better than RK in some capacity, but maybe you should stop lying to people about it? And if you really think you're a better wrestler, you should take him up on that title shot."

"Otherwise, you're confirming that you're exactly what we all know you are."

"A coward."

Cally.... out.

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: A laughing JJ DeVille, grin like the cat that just ate the canary.)

JJ: "That was too easy. Way too easy. You see, Rosie, I know you and Knox like a book. The two of you have such a hard-on for me that it's downright disturbing at this point. Any word I mutter will be guaranteed to get a rejoinder -- not a witty one -- from Team Impulse."

(JJ shakes his head, trying to hold back his chuckle.)

JJ: "What have I said about Knox from the start? I've called him out for what he is -- a marketing plan launched by the smartest business people in the history of this industry. He's pushed as a 'revolutionary figure' and sold as a good guy so Rosie and the -- ahem -- unnamed owners of TGIVY's pub and grill can get a commission of all Impulse-themed t-shirts, towels and e-cigarettes sold at Gadzooks nationwide."

(JJ chuckles.)

JJ: "You see, Rosie, I LURED YOU IN. I tossed out fictional numbers about T-shirt sales being a heel and everything. And I'm sure Randall Knox, our illustrious world champion, has absolutely no idea about his merch sells because that would blow his cover of I AM A WRESTLER AND A WRESTLER ONLY story arc he's tried to sell since day one. But you, Rosie? And while I'm sure you might have a bit of a break between wiping off bar tops and changing urinal cakes... I'm pretty sure that some ugly, semi-retarded barfly like yourself doesn't exactly know the boolean codes required to punch up NFW T-Shirt sales in just a matter of keystrokes. Also, what, did it take you 15 seconds after my last greatest promo of all time to ask -- nay demand -- the camera crew up to the dirt mall where your fire trap, insurance scam of a bar is located? No, Rosemary, you and Ivy and everyone else pushing our moron, excuse of a world champion have those records right there at your ready."

(JJ shakes his head, pleased as punch.)

JJ: "So, Rosie, thank you so much for settling this once and for all. The people who could care less about t-shirt sales AND! ONLY! CARE! ABOUT! WRESTLING! sure seem to have the minute-by-minute sales of Impulse(TM) brand neon backscratchers ready to go! Yep, Rosie, you just should have admitted this right from the start -- that tool who shaves you... he's there to sell, sell, sell. Because god knows he can't, you know, pin anyone."

(JJ purses his lips.)

JJ: "As far as his retarded list -- whatever. He can crow all he wants about whoever he wants on it. I'll be in the main event."

(FTB)

 

[User Poets]

JJ: "As far as his retarded list -- whatever. He can crow all he wants about whoever he wants on it. I'll be in the main event."

(FTB)

(FADEIN: Calico Rose, at TC's,)

Actually, you're not. You're right where you belong, in the middle of the pack. Not the best, not the worst.

Forgettable.

And your whole 'I'm a heel, I lied about T-Shirt sales' schtick? Predictable.

You see, JJ, either nobody calls you out on it and you're lauded as correct, or I call you out on it and you say 'Well I was lying anyways.' Because the whole point is to be the smartest guy in the room, right?

How well does that work when you're standing in an empty room, begging anyone to remember your name? Because the only difference between apathy and indifference for you is your thick, ever deteriorating plot armor.

 

[User Poets]

(FADEIN: Calico Rose, at TC's,)

Actually, you're not. You're right where you belong, in the middle of the pack. Not the best, not the worst.

Forgettable.

And your whole 'I'm a heel, I lied about T-Shirt sales' schtick? Predictable.

You see, JJ, either nobody calls you out on it and you're lauded as correct, or I call you out on it and you say 'Well I was lying anyways.' Because the whole point is to be the smartest guy in the room, right?

How well does that work when you're standing in an empty room, begging anyone to remember your name? Because the only difference between apathy and indifference for you is your thick, ever deteriorating plot armor.

(FADEIN: A cardboard cutout of JJ DeVille's face, somehow speaking with Impulse's voice.)

"JJ DeVille": Well you see, Rose, I knew you'd say that, you see I was lying about lying. I'm actually five steps ahead of you because I'm just that smart. The entire New Frontier bows down to me because the only person who can ever get one over on me was Troy Windham, but I got one over on him too even though he got one over on me."

I don't really follow the whole thing either, but whatever it takes to keep everyone else in the New Frontier down. All the money, and all the headlines for the Hellfire Club! We do what thou wilt!

Wait, 'do what thou wilt' means we do what YOU wilt. Since 'thou' means 'you' in Oldee English, after all. So we've been saying for months now that we do what you want us to do. Maybe we should rethink this.

(FADEOUT to multiple muffled laughters.)

 

[User Poets]

(FADEIN: A cardboard cutout of JJ DeVille's face, somehow speaking with Impulse's voice.)

"JJ DeVille": Well you see, Rose, I knew you'd say that, you see I was lying about lying. I'm actually five steps ahead of you because I'm just that smart. The entire New Frontier bows down to me because the only person who can ever get one over on me was Troy Windham, but I got one over on him too even though he got one over on me."

I don't really follow the whole thing either, but whatever it takes to keep everyone else in the New Frontier down. All the money, and all the headlines for the Hellfire Club! We do what thou wilt!

Wait, 'do what thou wilt' means we do what YOU wilt. Since 'thou' means 'you' in Oldee English, after all. So we've been saying for months now that we do what you want us to do. Maybe we should rethink this.

(FADEOUT to multiple muffled laughters.)

(FADEIN: A cardboard cutout of Blaine Hollywood's face. Somehow, he's speaking with the voice of Calico Rose.)

"Blaine Hollywood": Hey guys, remember me? I'm in the Hellfire Club too! I do what they wilt!"

(The JJ DeVille cutout smacked the Blaine Hollywood cutout down, and the camera quickly cut away from Calico Rose's face to the flaccid, defeated Blaine Hollywood form.)

"JJ DeVille": Quiet, loser, you're best seen and not heard. And don't you go claiming a title shot of your own, we're of one mind here in the Hellfire Club, and that one mind is to be on television as much as possible. You are no longer a wrestler, you're a marketing tool. Go wear an Impulse shirt so people will remember what company you work for!"

(As we FADEOUT, a third party can be heard asking 'Do you have any more heads? Can we play, too?')

 

[User Poets]

(FADEIN on a bunch of still photographs.

On who?

Emma Frost, Harry Leland, Donald Pierce, and Sebastian Shaw.

For some reason Emma Frost is speaking with Calico Rose's voice, and the men are all speaking with Impulse's voice.)

"Emma Frost": Do we have a vote yet, on JJ DeVille, Rook Black, Dorchester Stratton, Blaine Hollywood, and Veronica Rumsfeld's applications for admittance?

"Sebastian Shaw": Rook Black is definitely in. He's a quality individual and I can vouch for him. The other three, I never heard of.

"Emma Frost": You mean four.

"Sebastian Shaw": No, three. JJ DeVille, Dorchester Stratton, and Veronica Rumsfeld.

"Emma Frost": There's also Blaine Hollywood.

"Harry Leland": Blaine? Really? Isn't he like... some kind of fungus? I don't think he's a sentient person at all.

"Emma Frost": Be that as it may, is he in?"

"Donald Pierce": I'd vote them all in, except for a few problems.

"Emma Frost": What problems?

"Donald Pierce": Well, first of all, like Harry said, Blaine Hollywood isn't really a person after all. He sort of fades into the furniture after ten or twelve seconds, there's no personality at all. And Dorchester Stratton? Is he high society like we are, or is he some kid who was all bottom - feeding in the independent wrestling circuit?

"Emma Frost": I think he was a bottom feeder, then he found culture.

"Donald Pierce": No. Either he was always high society and he was slumming it for several years which means he's out of the old-money club, or he was legitimately low - class and is new-money, in which case he doesn't belong. Dorchester Stratton is out.

"Emma Frost": Okay. What about JJ DeVille?

"Sebastian Shaw": What about him? He's another one who doesn't really exist. Look at what he says. He'll say anything to get a rise out of people, and if he's called out as the liar that he is he'll counter that he's a 'heel', whatever that means, and that means he was lying to trick people. And if he isn't called out then he'll declare himself smarter than everyone else even though nobody cared enough about what he said to call him on it. He's out.

"Emma Frost": That's pretty harsh.

"Sebastian Shaw": No it isn't. I'm not harsh, I tell the truth. And if JJ DeVille doesn't want people talking about how much of a one - dimensional nothing he is, he should work on being a better person."

"Emma Frost": I can't argue with that. After all, I think Kevin Bacon would know.

"Sebastian Shaw": You fool, I was Sebastian Shaw before Kevin Bacon was Sebastian Shaw.

"Emma Frost": Wasn't the guy who originally played Darth Vader in Return of the Jedi named Sebastian Shaw?

"Harry Leland": Yeah... he was. But that was before George 'fixed' everything.

"Emma Frost": So that's the whole of the New Frontier's version of the Hellfire Club. Rook Black is a competent, compelling individual while the rest of the men are retreads of retreads who really don't matter. What about Veronica Rumsfeld?

"Donald Pierce": She kind of seems like a whore, willing to go toward the biggest payday. I don't think anyone needs to worry about her. Worst case scenario, toss five bucks and a sandwich into the crowd and she'll forget where she was.

"Emma Frost": It's a good thing we're having this meeting, we really needed to discuss the New Frontier's totally original and not - at - all pedestrian Hellfire Club before the next major crossover with the X-Men. Just one question, Sebastian."

"Sebastian Shaw": Yes, Emma?

"Emma Frost": Where did that idiotic 'Do What Thou Wilt' thing come from? Do they realize they're saying they'll do what other people want them to do?

"Sebastian Shaw" (Shakes his head, which is actually the still image moving from side to side.)

"Donald Pierce": Don't question it too hard, Emma... they're all a bunch of idiots. Slapstick comedy at its most basic.

(FADEOUT)

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: A smirking JJ DeVille, shaking his head in disbelief, wearing a WWJJD T-Shirt.)

JJ: "So I wake up this morning to a myriad of text messages. I have a few from Veronica, a few from Blaine, a few from Dorchester -- who just got out of a coma pretty much -- and a few more from a bunch of guys on the NFW roster who I'm in regular contact with out of their respect for a true LEADER OF MEN whose names, indeed, shall not be revealed. And all of these texts said something along the lines of the following. 'Did you see Rosie? LOLOLOLOLOLOL.' So I woke up, had one of my servants prepare my a full, Adirondack-style breakfast complete with locally-sourced, free-range organic products before I went to the ESEN website to watch whatever the f it was that created such a reaction of mockery."

(JJ shakes his head and laughs.)

JJ: "Wow. Rosie, I know you and Impulse have had a hard-on for me since Day 1 but this is something else. Not one... not two... not three... but FOUR promos caused by my one bit of stunning repartee after you confirmed the INCONVENIENT TRUTH I revealed about your meal-ticket long ago... that he's a product of marketing, given every advantage in his career so he can help Gadzooks sell T-shirts and meet their quarterly earnings-per-share expectations. And each one of these promos somehow dumber than the next, devolving from anger to poorly executed attempts at sketch comedy that even The Office's Michael Scott would be ashamed to have produced. And I heard the group laughs in the background, too. That leads me to believe, Rosie, you were not alone when you were crafting these. And since it was a slow night at TGIvy's -- I guess the 10 cent wings and $1 Miller Light pitchers don't sell like they used to -- I know it wasn't the social loose change you call patrons looming about. No, Rosie, it was Ivy, maybe a Hot Topic merchandiser you have at the ready and -- wait for it -- Randall Knox himself watching and enjoying themselves as they perform what will go down in history as literally the four worst attempts at promos the world has ever witnessed."

(JJ leans back laughing before reaching up with something. Some sort of card.)

JJ: "In order to congratulate you, I've procured a gift for Team Impulse for you to use at your earlier convenience. It's a $30 gift card to Home Depot, which contains enough money for you to purchase a shovel so you can continue the greatest act of self-burial professional wrestling has ever witnessed."

(JJ's continues his self-satisfied glare out to the horizon before pausing, pursing his lips, before entering into an angry glare.)

JJ: "But even though, Rosie, you proved my ultimate point... NONE OF THIS CHANGES THINGS. Because Impulse is the hero here and I'm cast as the villain. But IT SHOULD BE THE OPPOSITE WAY AROUND! Impulse has had the red carpet rolled out for him from day 1 -- trained by Eli Flair, helped by Ivy, pushed by Fiona Love and Kerry O'Connor and afforded undeserved shot after shot after shot. BUT WHAT ABOUT ME? HUH? I'M THE HORATIO ALGER STORY! I came into this sport not on the ultimate welcome mat but as its ultimate punchline. I was shunted aside because of backstage politics -- and the invisible hand of Troy Windham -- and made myself INTO THE BIGGEST STAR IN THE NFW BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY. But am I adored by the masses? NO! PEOPLE INSTEAD TURN THEIR BACKS TO ME AND PELT ME WITH GARBAGE INSTEAD OF CHANTING MY NAME! BUT INSTEAD IT'S YOU IMPULSE! INSTEAD IT'S YOU, YOU LITTLE TWERP! THAT.... THAT IS NOT FAIR! THAT... THAT IS NOT... ARRHHHHHH!"

(JJ balls his fists up and yells into the air. He then gulps and smooths out his shirt.)

JJ: "Rosie, I suggest you pay heed to my next words. I am NOT responding to any more of your worthless words. The Hellfire Club, as of now, does not care one bit about Impulse and his dumb list. It's certainly not out of cowardice, being that it's JJ DeVille 1 and Impulse 0. I have an upcoming match that requires my attention. I have across the ring from me a 300-plus pound mindless goon who I've been dreaming of Superkicking for a few months now. I have behind me professional wrestling's ultimate turkeyburger in Eddie Mayfield, whose attempting to punish me by placing me in a match with him, requiring me to look behind my back at all times. And I also have an inspiring up-and-coming young talent who could use a helping hand in his attempts to follow in my illustrious footsteps. Rosie Callie or whatever the fuck is indeed your real name since no one knows or really gives a shit after all these years anyways -- I suggest you and your little twat of a common law husband focus on your opponent, Jack Harmen. Because if you don't... well... then your list and career will be entirely worthless. Now get back to putting salt on your fake boobies so a bunch of union workers can do a tequlla shot off your shamed body."

 

[User Poets]

On and on

(FADEIN on an elaborately painted backdrop showing a huge house with the words "HELLFIRE MANSION" over the doorway.

I mean, huge.

Dan Ryan's mansion, the one that contains the entire state of Texas? It's inside Hellfire Mansion.

Enter, from Stage Left, a wooden frame with the JJ DeVille cardboard head tacked to the top.

Enter, from Stage Right, an old Impulse mask on a mannequin.

That $30 giftcard came in handy. Thanks!)

"JJ DeVille": Impulse, you're a corporate shill. Everything you have was a marketing plan and everything you have was handed to you.

"Impulse": I'm not sure how that's even close to being accurate. Can you explain without jumping into meaningless rhetoric?

("Impulse" sounds like Impulse, but "JJ DeVille" sounds much more feminine today.

...

We're waiting.)

"JJ DeVille": No, I can't. FRAUD! FAKE! POORLY TRAINED!

"Impulse": Can you try? Just a little?

"JJ DeVille": Well, you were trained by Eli Flair and Poison Ivy.

"Impulse": And?

"JJ DeVille": Isn't that enough? That's a golden ticket into wrestling!

"Impulse": Well, we all have to get trained by someone. But I wonder, if I was trying to get the wheels greased, why wouldn't I go to Greensboro or Seattle? That's where my trainers had the most stroke. Why would I refuse to go there, and why would I - when I did start wrestling full time - do so without telling them?

"JJ DeVille": You told them, that's why. You told them 'Call Craig Miles and tell him to make me World Champion.' And he did! See! And it's NFW because it's where Eli Flair had his best moment, he made Troy Windham tap out. But he's not better than Troy! But I hate Troy! But he's not better! Troy is the second best wrestler in the world, with the rest of the Hellfire Club tied for first. You can see that by the way Troy was retconned into the mastermind behind the Hellfire Club losing its half of the NFW ownership. WE DO WHAT THOU WILT!

"Impulse": ...

"JJ DeVille": ...

"Impulse": Are you an idiot?

"JJ DeVille": Of course not, I just expect everything I say to be praised and scrutinized like it's the greatest thing to ever be spoken in the history of professional wrestling. Because PLOT ARMOR.

(Impulse shakes his head.)

"Impulse": You do realize it's the goal of every professional wrestling organization to make money, right? They put people on the air that they think will entice a paying crowd to come to an arena. In your case, Eddie puts your stuff on the air because he thinks people will pay money to see you get beat up, even though that doesn't happen because of your plot armor and because your presence in the New Frontier is a joke that stopped being funny about a year ago. In my case, Eddie and Craig started to put my stuff on the air after Wrestlestock II because they figured a wrestler my size who can go two hours in a battle royal isn't something you see every day. People wanted to see me so they got to see me.

"JJ DeVille": See! You admit it!

"Impulse": Admit what, that this company puts me on the air because I make them money? That's why any of us are on the air, you idiotic twit. In your case, you're not entertaining. You're like Star Wars Episode III, we're going to sit through the end because of the time we invested, but if we could go back in time we wouldn't've started Episode I: The Windham Menace in the first place.

"JJ DeVille": But your Revolution is just a marketing tool.

"Impulse": If you were here and carrying Troy's bags when it all started instead of coming in three years later to carry his bags, you might have some kind of frame of reference. CRAIG MILES AND EDDIE MAYFIELD SPEARHEADED THE WRESTLING REVOLUTION. I've said it again and again but it never seems to stick, because you go right back to accusing me of not starting it when I never said I did.

"JJ DeVille": I told you you never started it! See! WE DO WHAT THOU WILT!

"Impulse": They wanted wrestling, which is why I sent my tape in. I thought 'Wrestling, that's something I do better than anyone, this is where I want to be. Then, when Eddie started his war with Joe the Plumber and sort of abandoned the concept of 'Wrestling for Wrestling sake,' I picked up the mantle and continued.

"JJ DeVille": Liar. You sent your tape to Eli Flair who told Craig Miles he had to let you in and clear the road for everything you wanted.

"Impulse": Pretty sure I didn't.

"JJ DeVille": Yes you did.

"Impulse": No, I didn't.

"JJ DeVille": Yes you did.

"Impulse": No, I didn't.

"JJ DeVille": Yes you did.

"Impulse": No, I didn't.

"JJ DeVille": Yes you did.

"Impulse": No, I didn't.

"JJ DeVille": Yes you did! I don't care what the facts were, as long as I'm right!

"Impulse": So was it Eli Flair greasing the wheels for me, or the New Frontier front office? Which story are you going with today?

"JJ DeVille": Yes.

"Impulse": What?

"JJ DeVille": WE DO WHAT THOU WILT!

"Impulse": Still sticking with that, huh?

"JJ DeVille": At least the Hellfire Club is original, we're taking this place over!

"Impulse": Like Dynasty? Or the Windham Clan? Or the Seven Deadly Sins? Or the Highwaymen? You're not even original to this company in the past year. I realize that you learned exactly one way to do business from Troy: form a stable and make a lot of noise. You might even get people to consider you a threat because they're under the misguided notion that you do business the right way, but it gets old, fast. Look at this.

"JJ DeVille": Look at what?

"Impulse": You're going back and forth with me instead of focusing on your match, because it's more important to you to be right than it is to look at the imminent return of Castor Strife. Remember Castor Strife, the guy you bragged about pinning (aspartofatenmantagbuttotallyonyourown) the entire time he was World Champion, but didn't throw even a hint of a challenge his way until he had lost the belt and was thrown through some tables and glass panes? Don't you think Castor deserves the same attention you give to Rose and I, bringing up at least my name every time you open your mouth?

"JJ DeVille": What about what you're doing? You can't stop bringing up MY name.

"Impulse": Because I don't want to. Because I will never be so busy that I can't shine a spotlight on the myriad of stupid, selfish things you say and do. Because I will never be so busy that I can't stop and remind the wrestling world and the New Frontier in general that while you're a self - proclaimed Locker Room Cancer (which is a terrible, shilltastic marketing tool.), you're also a Real Life Locker Room Cancer who insists on being at the top of the New Frontier at the expense of the rest of the company, too short sighted to realize that the New Frontier won't function with the three of you as its only roster members. And I doubt Mike Randalls wants to wrestle a full time schedule anymore.

"JJ DeVille": We are THE most interesting part of this company! Don't you read the reviews?

"Impulse": Yeah. And the Hellfire Club never comes up.

"JJ DeVille": I pinned you! And I pinned Castor Strife!

"Impulse": You say that like it means something.

"JJ DeVille": Finally admitting that you're the worst wrestler on the roster who lucked into the World Championship, eh?

"Impulse": No... I mean, you've been a wrestler for what, fourteen years now? And Troy Windham greased the wheels for everything you have except for when he totally didn't, right? Haven't you learned yet than an individual win or loss means less than nothing in this sport? Or in any sport, in the grand scheme of things? Let's say the Phillies get swept by the Mets all season, then they go on to win the World Series while the Mets are in last place. Is there any baseball fan anywhere who would say the Phillies aren't the Champs? Or that the Mets are better than the Phillies?

You pinned Castor Strife (aspartofatenmantagbuttotallyonyourown) and you pinned me. He's the former World Champion and I'm the current World Champion. We are collectively every minute of World Championship time since you first stepped into this company, and you...

Well, you're a comic book fan who's doing what Troy Windham did, right down to the 'Let's reveal a SHOCKING additional member of our club' swerve that has been met with a collective sigh.

You're beneath all of us, JJ, and you can sit on your little pinfall all you want, but unless you're willing to step up and actually step to myself or Castor Strife, you'll always be beneath all of us. The best part is that everyone in this company and in this entire industry is aware of it.

And they're laughing at you.

We're laughing at you.

I'm laughing at you.

Constantly.

While the rest of the Hellfire Club is patting you on the back, telling you that we're just jealous of how special you are, it's pretty much over for you.

How's it feel to be on the downside, JJ, without ever being considered a major player in this industry?

"JJ DeVille": I ran this company! I ran your life! I HAD THE POWER!

"Impulse": And now you don't. Did you really ever have power, if someone can just come along and take it away?

Have fun ignoring me. Or don't. You said it yourself, right, you're a heel, and heels lie. You could probably save us all some time if you'd just stop saying that you're never gonna do something again, that way you don't have to cover yourself with the heel label before we can label you a hypocrite and a spineless jellyfish who can't even live up to what he says.

We do that every day, anyways.

("Impulse" turns and "walks" out of frame.)

"JJ DeVille": I DO WHAT THOU WILT!"

(FADE. Big ups to the Hellfire Club for buying the materials!)

 

[LQJT86C]

Re: On and on

(CUTTO: ALEX AUSTIN at the edge of Brooklyn Bridge Park in DUMBO, BK. It's evening, and behind him is the ferry, leaving to bring passengers to Manhattan. Alex is sitting on a bench with his glass shard necklace hanging down as he leans forward. The camera revolves around to meet his face)

AUSTIN: "So JJ sees something in me. Something like himself - something like a threat to the establishment, and to all who would underestimate me."

(Scoffs, shakes head)

"Visions of a blind man."

"Let me lay some truth back on you, JJ - we are NOTHING alike. I respect my craft, and take PRIDE in being the very best grappler the world today, right up there with Marcelo Garcia, Roger Gracie, and Andre Galvao. I have designs on becoming a WORLD CHAMPION once The Great Man decides that it's my time."

"You on the other hand...you had an opportunity to face him on multiple occasions for that very title, and DECLINED to even answer the challenge. Just like Rook Black, you are a COWARD who values things other than being called the best. And in this business, what else is there? NOTHING. There is the top, the GOLD, and everything else is a convenient distraction."

“I am an ACCOMPLISHED MAN. My skillset is WORLD RENOWNED. Can you say the same? What have you really done, JJ? Grabbed some TV time, made yourself the center of attention – and what do you have to show for it? The hall of fame isn’t calling any time soon. Nobody with half a brain considers you a challenge, because in spit of your immense talent, you have consistently punted the opportunity to bring yourself to the next level. You are content being a media sideshow, and it is HURTING THIS COMPANY. When all I said and done, JJ Deville will go down as that obnoxious guy who did a bunch of silly shit on television.”

“Join you? Nah. I’m out to shut you down.”

“And as for Single White Female over there...yeah Impulse, YOU...”

(Stands up, walks forward as the camera moves back)

AUSTIN: “Nobody can deny that you are number one in the Strife-less New Frontier, but make no mistake, on YOUR shoulder that World Title is nothing but a fucking paperweight. “

“Now you’re running around defending it on every damn show. You know what we call that in my world? DEVALUING THE BELT. The TV champion defends less than you do. Where I come from, the World Title is something to be REVERED and brought out and defended only on special occasion, when the challenge warrants it.”

“And these rankings of yours? SAVE IT. You think it adds transparency to your title reign, but I think it’s a shallow attempt on your part to HAND-PICK YOUR OPPONENTS.”

“Case in point: Jack Bryant. The man’s coming off a LOSS in which he got pulverized, broken bones, his EAR damn near bit off, and multiple concussions. Jack Bryant is in a HOSPITAL BED. How brave of you to challenge him to a fight as he's recovering! Fucking brilliant. Who’s your next opponent, the dead kid from High School Musical?”

“Did you even show any concern over Jack’s health? I sure did. In fact, I paid a call to his hospital yesterday, and with the Castor Strife Productions credit card, was able to finance him a BETTER, more comprehensive health plan than what Eddie was willing to purchase. And in case you were wondering, Jack is doing great under the Cadillac plan we bought for him. With any luck, he’ll be at 30% for the title match!”

(Stops, strokes beard)

AUSTIN: “All in good time, fellas. The Guild has a lot on it’s place, starting with the main course: HELLFIRE. And when that business has been settled, believe me RK, you’ll move up the menu.”

(FADEOUT)