RUSSIAN ROULETTE 2012: Rezin vs. Mr. Sunshine
- Thread starter DBrunkGXW
- Start date
The Fear Hunter
(CUE UP: "Doomsdayer's Holiday" by Grails.)
(We fade in from black on the image of longtime EPW field reporter, Kenny Lombardo, standing in the middle of a large, decrepit chamber. It's clear he's feeling neither comfortable nor fully secure in these settings, which could have at one time been a warehouse or a stockroom, but now stands as a decaying shell of a building. Oddly, a plain wooden table with two chairs furnishes the very center of the room.)
Kenny Lombardo
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen... Kenny Lombardo here, and no doubt you're wondering what I'm doing in a place such as this. I'm kinda wondering that myself...
Truth is, I'm here to interview somebody, and I was told I'd meet him here at this time. Of course, judging by these surroundings, you could easily assume that I'm speaking of none other than the veteran high-flying daredevil and self-proclaimed "Escape Artist" of Empire Pro... the man formerly known as Dopesmoker, but now only known as the insidious REZIN.
(The sound of footsteps approaching cues the reporter to look off camera.)
Kenny Lombardo
Well... speak of the Devil...
(The camera follows his gaze, and the Devil himself is standing there, grinning like the goat bastard he is. REZIN is in the same pants and duster combo. In one hand is his noxious resin-bong, and in the other is a crumpled paper bag.)
Rezin
Whassup, Kenny? Been a while, bro.
Kenny Lombardo
Good evening, Rezin... you're LATE.
Rezin
Are you sure you aren't EARLY?
(Lombardo checks his watch, looking rather exasperated.)
Kenny Lombardo
No... you told me to meet you here at eight o'clock... and now it's TEN!
Rezin
Hey, man... it's eight o'clock somewhere else in the world. What the f*ck do you want me to say? I had to get some things last minute, and I got caught up.
Not that time matters anyhow. Time is relative. I mean, look at this place...
(He holds out his hands, looking up to the rusted metal rafters and porous sheet-metal ceiling.)
Rezin
Some time ago, we can be sure that this place once served a purpose. There was once a time where it was maintained and inhabited by its sentient makers. But time caught up with it. Once it was something special, and now it's nothing...
Just like everything else in this world...
Just like ME...
(Rezin approaches the table. As he does, Lombardo casts a suspicious eye on the bag in his hand. It's not like your typical hobo with a Colt 45 brown paper bag like they give you at late night convenience stores. It's more like that damp, dark paper bag that you get when you need to get something really hard to find late at night.)
Kenny Lombardo
So what are these "things" that were so important for you to get that it kept me and my crew waiting for over two hours?
(Rezin reaches in the bag and pulls out a long, thin piece of cloth. Almost like a ribbon. It's blood red.)
Rezin
Oh, just a few visual aides for this interview we're about to do. Now, if you could just put this on...
Kenny Lombardo
...what?! No way!
(Rezin reaches into the bag again and pulls out another piece of cloth just like it. He wraps it around his head like a bandana.)
Rezin
Come on, Kenny... don't p*ss out of me now. Bossman's expecting you to deliver a one-on-one chat, so just put it on and play along. Help me complete the vision, will you?
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, jeez...
(Reluctantly, Kenny picks up his own bandana and wraps it around his head. He seems repulsed, probably wondering where it's been and thinking he should probably get checked for lice later. He notices Rezin taking a seat in one of the chairs, and the reporter promptly takes his own place at the other end of the table. The camera gets both men centered in the shot, and Kenny continues.)
Kenny Lombardo
What's going on here, Rezin?
(He doesn't answer the question right away. Instead, he grabs the bottom of the bag and lets the last item drop out into the middle of the table with a heavy thud. The sight of a six-barrel revolver in the dim, waning light causes Kenny to jump up out of his chair.)
Kenny Lombardo
OH MY GOD, HE'S GOT A GUN!!
Rezin
Relax, Kenny...
Kenny Lombardo
CALL THE POLICE, HE'S GONE POSTAL THIS TIME!!
Rezin
Kenny... have a seat. Look...
(Rezin picks up the revolver and opens it to show all six chambers are empty.)
Rezin
It's not even loaded. Well... not right now, anyway. Now sit down and let's get this thing started.
Kenny Lombardo
I'm not starting ANYTHING until you get that gun out of here! Are you CRAZY?!
Rezin
Heh, maybe... but you see, Kenny, this is a part of the vision as well.
Kenny Lombardo
I don't care! I don't trust you with any weapon, loaded or regardless!
Rezin
...weapon? You think this here is a WEAPON?
Let me show you what a REAL weapon looks like, Kenny...
("The Escape Artist" takes a handful of his pants to yank his leg up onto the table, pulling the cuff up past his foot and baring the business-end of his dreadful heel.)
Rezin
THAT'S a weapon right there, Kenny!
You heard of the unbreakable swords made of Damascus steel? Well this sh*t right here is Damascus HEEL... and unless you want to conduct this entire interview slumped unconscious in that chair from the Mach 3 Turbo force of THIS going right into your g*ddamn face, I suggest you sit the f*ck down, shut the f*ck up, and listen to what I have to say?
(The camera gets a close-up of Kenny's face as he fully realizes the grim reality of a spinning heel kick to the face. Timidly, he returns to the table and takes his seat. Meanwhile, Rezin picks the revolver up and takes something from the pocket of his coat... it looks like a bullet, but not quite.)
Kenny Lombardo
And what's THAT?
Rezin
Oh, just a harmless paint pellet. Won't even break the skin... I mean, unless you shoot from point blank...
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, I think I get it now. Russian Roulette is coming... and it just so happens that's the game we're playing.
Rezin
That's right, Kenny... that's EXACLTY right. I knew you were always smarter than the rest...
See, I figured it was high time I reminded all those stupid, sheltered, idealistic assh*les out there just where this Pay Per View got its namesake.
Kenny Lombardo
Well, Russian Roulette is indeed the name of the Pay Per View... but I always thought the title alluded to taking risks and uncertain outcomes. Is it really necessary to delve into it really more than that?
Rezin
Probably not, but we're going to do it anyway... because I said so.
See, Russian Roulette is not just a game made up by Ivan's drunken forefathers. It's a metaphor of life itself. Every day we wake up, we put an invisible bullet into the chamber of an invisible gun, hold it to our head, and pull the trigger. Many times, nothing happens. But sometimes...
(The morbid and sickening grin spreads across his face.)
Rezin
Sometimes, playing the game of chance bites you in the ass... and all that's left is despair, defeat, and disappointment.
(Kenny shakes his head as the goat bastard chuckles to himself.)
Kenny Lombardo
"Despair, defeat, and disappointment", so you say... and yet you're somehow amused by that?
Rezin
No, Kenny... what amuses me is how everybody in this federation continues to IGNORE it.
Nobody believes the invisible hand of fate could EVER interfere in their ideal and perfect little lives. They think as long as they stick to their wholesome, one-dimensional values, nothing could possibly go wrong.
Well they THOUGHT wrong... and I'm here to show them just how wrong they were all along.
(He gives the chamber a whirl, letting the game of chance decide where it stops.)
Rezin
The wheel of fate keeps on turning throughout the passage of time... and if you're not careful, it will come back to haunt you.
Just look at Cameron Cruise and Copycat. Two years ago, when they were a part of the Anthology, those assh*les thought nothing could touch them. Every time they were booked in a match against the Fallen, they'd treat it as nothing less than a guaranteed win. They brought such shame to the name "Erik Black" that I was forced to kick it to the curb in an effort to disassociate myself with that embarrassing period of time where that moron Dopesmoker was in control.
(He sets the revolver onto the table again, in front of the reporter.)
Rezin
Here you go.. you first.
Kenny Lombardo
Uhh... do I have to? Looks like it could really hurt...
Rezin
The worst that could possibly happen is half your head gets covered in paint and you wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache. That's not even half as bad as what I'm going to do to you if you keep f*cking stalling...
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, jeez...
(Beads of sweat break out on the reporter's brow as he reluctantly reaches out and touches the gun. He draws his hand back after the first moment of contact as if it was hot to touch, but then picks it up, pulls back on the hammer, and holds it in the proper position against his temple. Rezin watches him all the while, the evil smile not leaving his face.)
Rezin
Anyway, as I was saying... time has finally caught up to the likes of Cameron Cruise and Copycat. Now, two years later, Cat's got his OWN tongue, and Cruise now realizes he'll never be the great wrestler he sees himself as by simply surrounding himself with other talent. The tables have turned... and what's left for their careers now?
(Kenny says a quiet prayer to himself, shuts his eyes, holds his breath, and pulls the trigger...)
(SFX: *Click...*)
Rezin
NOTHING.
(Lombardo lets out a sigh of relief as he quickly sets the revolver down, sliding it to Rezin. The Escape Artist quite casually picks it up and repeats the process, loading up the next chamber.)
Kenny Lombardo
Nothing's left for them? Do you say that because you just beat them in the ring?
Rezin
There's been nothing to their careers for a long time, Kenny. I just made it more obvious back there at Aggression.
I mean, don't you think it's a little coincidental that Cameron Cruise is suddenly M-I-A? Or is it just that the realization that he was overcome by Empire Pro's most notrious bottom-feeder was just too harsh of a reality check? One that he JUST... doesn't like?
(Rezin chuckles, pulling back the hammer and squeezing the trigger.)
(SFX: *Click...*)
(He grins like a madman.)
Rezin
Two down, four to go, Kenny...
(He slides the revolver back to Lombardo, and worry once again fills the reporter's eyes.)
Rezin
I don't really know the truth, but what I DO know is that makes THREE talents I've sent into early retirement over three consecutive shows.
Kenny Lombardo
Even though we haven't heard anything from him yet, I'm not sure if Cameron Cruise is officially retired as the result of a single loss...
Rezin
Well then, maybe he can go back to Canada to cut promos about how much greater he is than people he's never beat. F*cked if I knew, and f*cked if I cared...
As for me, I'm moving on. The uncompromising drift of a godless and indifferent cosmos has put me on a path of absolute destruction, and Dan Ryan's glorious Empire stands in my way. Wherever I go, the body count keeps rising while the world keeps antagonizing.
Kenny Lombardo
How poetic... I would be correct to assume, then, that you're continuing your insane master plan to bring down the federation by vacating all of its championship gold?
Rezin
That's right, Kenny. One by one, I'll cripple the champions... I'll destroy the belts... and this illustrious federation everybody holds dear will be no more.
Now come on, you're up...
Kenny Lombardo
Oh man... oh jeez...
(Kenny is visibly trembling now as he picks up the revolver again. Once again, he squeezes his eye shut and bares his gritting teeth. From somewhere deep inside him, a whining sound is being made. Finally, he braces himself for an earful of paint and pain and pulls the trigger.)
(SFX: *Click...*)
Kenny Lombardo
Oh THANK YOU, God...
(Kenny wipes the sweat from his forehead as he quickly gives the gun back to the goat bastard sneering at him from across the table. Rezin looks amused by his panicked reactions.)
Rezin
Halfway there, Kenny... hang with me, you're doing fine.
Kenny Lombardo
Whoof... whatever say.
Anyway, if its the belts you're still going after, then tell us what you think about Copycat moving on from a loss at Aggression to compete against the Intercontinental Champion, Impulse, at the Pay Per View? Do you think maybe you deserved that spot since you were the man to walk away from that match the decisive winner?
Rezin
In a just and idealistic world, maybe... but we don't live in such a world. Liars, despots, and phonies surround us, and they do everything they can to protect themselves.
Dan Ryan isn't stupid. He's not going to feed his dog with his own fat and over-priviledged offspring... and likewise, he's not going to feed the most destructive and apocalyptic force this federation's ever SEEN his prized and pristine champions. I imagine it will be some time before I worm my way into a title shot... but I've got all the time in the world, and he won't be able to hold out much longer the way I keep sending his overpaid talent into the infirmary night after night.
(Kenny watches eagerly as Rezin pulls back the hammer and non-chalantly puts the gun to his head. He knows at this point it's two to one in his favor that the next bullet is the single paint decoy put into it earlier. There is no fear on Rezin's face as he pulls the trigger...)
(SFX: *Click...*)
(Lombardo grimaces, and the sneering grin reappears on Rezin's face as he lowers the gun and slides it across the table once again.)
Rezin
Oh buddy, it's gettin' down to brass tacks now.
Kenny Lombardo
Okay, okay... so then, what are your thoughts on being booked to compete against Mr. Sunshine at Russian Roulette?
Rezin
My thoughts? You couldn't possibly handle the knowledge of what goes on my damned mind, Kenny...
Kenny Lombardo
I'll take your word for it, but don't you think this match-up is a bit interesting?
Rezin
How's that?
Kenny Lombardo
Well, you know... given that the both of you have recently adopted newer, more unhinged alter egos, some would draw similarities in your personalities. Some are saying this will be the fight that determines who the craziest and most violent man in EPW really is.
Rezin
I don't really see any similarities myself, Kenny. When I look at the man once known as Rich Franklin, I see a man living in his own messed-up reality. Now he wants to be "Mr. Sunshine"... the beacon of hope, happiness, and the fulfillment of life.
I don't live in that reality, Kenny. I live in a world that is very much real, but also very much unseen by those who don't have the heart or the mental capacity to see that sewers run beneath the streets, and scum lingers in every nook, cranny, and corner where man dare not tread.
There IS no, Sunshine, Kenny... just filth... sh*t... REZIN...
(He grins again as he looks to the gun, pausing until the reporter picks it up and very slowly pulls back the hammer. It's a fifty-fifty chance at this point. He is completely white as a ghost now, his wan face rivaling even Rezin's own ashy complexion. Even so, motivated by the fear of whatever might happen if he refuses to go through with this, he brings the gun up to his head.)
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, lord in heaven...
(Ever so slowly, he pulls the trigger...)
(SFX: *Click...*)
(Kenny's eyes pop open in surprise, and despite himself, he can't withold showing a relieved smile.)
Kenny Lombardo
HA HA!! I MADE IT!!
(He sets down the revolver, five chambers empty, the next all but certain to contain the paint pellet. Kenny recomposes himself when sees that Rezin is no longer smiling. Grimly, he lights up his mini-blowtorch and takes a hit off the resin bong. The fit of coughing that follows is long, but eventually subsides.)
Rezin
Anyway, people can see this match how they want... it's obvious to me that Bossman's trying to thin the crazies out of his asylum by setting them on each other. What do you think, Kenny?
Kenny Lombardo
I, uh... I think I need a change of pants.
Rezin
It's cool... happens to the best of us.
I don't give a sh*t about Dan Ryan or his intentions, Kenny. He's more focused on ridding his federation of another lunatic and unstable eyesore. The cosmos has already set the destruction of Empire Pro in motion... and sooner or later, whether it takes a few weeks or a few years, that destruction will finally come at my black-stained hands.
(Kenny can't help but scoff and roll his eyes. An arrogant note fills his voice, probably invigorated by his success in the game of chance.)
Kenny Lombardo
Whatever you say... but hey, speaking of bad things to come, isn't it YOUR turn?
(Knowing full well that a player must see a game all the way to the end, the Escape Artist picks the gun up. An astute viewer would note that he's been doing this with his left hand... a peculiar sight, given that Erik Black has always been right-handed. With a sneer crossing his face, he lifts the gun to his head and pulls the hammer back.)
Rezin
You can mock me now, Kenny... just like everybody else... but it won't stop the doom that awaits us all.
Kenny Lombardo
Talk all you want, but even you have to admit that even you are just as powerless to the doom that awaits YOU, "Rezin"...
Rezin
You're right, Kenny... I AM powerless.
(The barrel of the gun suddenly moves from his temple to Kenny's chest. Lombardo assumes the deer in headlights expression and holds up his hands. Rezin's insane grin reappears.)
Rezin
But I'm also f*cking CRAZY!
(Frozen in fear, Kenny looks in horror as Rezin pulls the trigger.)
(SFX: *BANG!!*)
Kenny Lombardo
OH GAWD, YOU SHOT ME, YOU F*CKING GOAT BASTARD!!
(A blue splatter of paint appears on the reporter's chest as he clutches at the point of impact in pain. As he struggles to breath, a shadow falls over him...)
(SFX: *SMACK~!!*)
(...and he flails backwards out of the chair and lands into a heap as Rezin's heel swings into his face with the force of a million megatons. Looking down at the wounded reporter, the Escape Artist throws his head back and cackles like a hellion.)
Rezin
HA-HA... HA-HA-HAHAHAHAHA!!!
(When he's finished, his head suddenly jerks over his shoulder, taking notice of the camera. The guy holding it can't help but nervously back up a few steps.)
Camera Man (O/C)
Oh SH*T!
(Rezin's attention suddenly goes above him, and he reaches up to grab the boom mic looming above the shot, causing it to feed back. The grip tries to keep ahold, but quickly lets go. Rezin begins recklessly flailing the mic around like a warstaff, prompting the camera man to just drop the camera and hit the road.)
Camera Man
Come on, man, this guy's f*cking batsh*t! Grab him and let's get the hell out of here!
(The canted angled of the camera shows Kenny's camera crew peeling the unconscious reporter off the floor and dragging him away. Rezin's heel, still glistening with Lombardo's slobber, steps into the shot. The view shifts as he picks the camera up and holds it up to his nasty and whiskered face. He strips the aviators off to reveal horribly reddened eyes.)
Rezin
MISTER SUNSHINE... make no mistake about it... I'm the sickest, craziest, self-destructingest son of c*nt that's ever lit up the Empire Pro ring, and I'm gonna be the one to burn it down!
Think you can stop me...?
(He chuckles at the very thought.)
Rezin
The last three that have tried have failed...
We won't be playing games come Russian Roulette when I step into that ring and KICK YOUR F*CKING FACE OFF... MOONSAULT YOU through F*CKING TABLE... and RIP OUT YOUR F*CKING TEETH with the COTTONMOUTH! Mark my words, life ain't gonna be all that SUNNY once I've turned your entire world into a black and bottomless SH*THOLE!
(He snorts and spits something thick and inhumanly black into the camera lens, blotting out our vision. Soon after, the shot goes to static as he drops the camera to the floor. The music rides out as we fade to black.)
(CUE UP: "Doomsdayer's Holiday" by Grails.)
(We fade in from black on the image of longtime EPW field reporter, Kenny Lombardo, standing in the middle of a large, decrepit chamber. It's clear he's feeling neither comfortable nor fully secure in these settings, which could have at one time been a warehouse or a stockroom, but now stands as a decaying shell of a building. Oddly, a plain wooden table with two chairs furnishes the very center of the room.)
Kenny Lombardo
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen... Kenny Lombardo here, and no doubt you're wondering what I'm doing in a place such as this. I'm kinda wondering that myself...
Truth is, I'm here to interview somebody, and I was told I'd meet him here at this time. Of course, judging by these surroundings, you could easily assume that I'm speaking of none other than the veteran high-flying daredevil and self-proclaimed "Escape Artist" of Empire Pro... the man formerly known as Dopesmoker, but now only known as the insidious REZIN.
(The sound of footsteps approaching cues the reporter to look off camera.)
Kenny Lombardo
Well... speak of the Devil...
(The camera follows his gaze, and the Devil himself is standing there, grinning like the goat bastard he is. REZIN is in the same pants and duster combo. In one hand is his noxious resin-bong, and in the other is a crumpled paper bag.)
Rezin
Whassup, Kenny? Been a while, bro.
Kenny Lombardo
Good evening, Rezin... you're LATE.
Rezin
Are you sure you aren't EARLY?
(Lombardo checks his watch, looking rather exasperated.)
Kenny Lombardo
No... you told me to meet you here at eight o'clock... and now it's TEN!
Rezin
Hey, man... it's eight o'clock somewhere else in the world. What the f*ck do you want me to say? I had to get some things last minute, and I got caught up.
Not that time matters anyhow. Time is relative. I mean, look at this place...
(He holds out his hands, looking up to the rusted metal rafters and porous sheet-metal ceiling.)
Rezin
Some time ago, we can be sure that this place once served a purpose. There was once a time where it was maintained and inhabited by its sentient makers. But time caught up with it. Once it was something special, and now it's nothing...
Just like everything else in this world...
Just like ME...
(Rezin approaches the table. As he does, Lombardo casts a suspicious eye on the bag in his hand. It's not like your typical hobo with a Colt 45 brown paper bag like they give you at late night convenience stores. It's more like that damp, dark paper bag that you get when you need to get something really hard to find late at night.)
Kenny Lombardo
So what are these "things" that were so important for you to get that it kept me and my crew waiting for over two hours?
(Rezin reaches in the bag and pulls out a long, thin piece of cloth. Almost like a ribbon. It's blood red.)
Rezin
Oh, just a few visual aides for this interview we're about to do. Now, if you could just put this on...
Kenny Lombardo
...what?! No way!
(Rezin reaches into the bag again and pulls out another piece of cloth just like it. He wraps it around his head like a bandana.)
Rezin
Come on, Kenny... don't p*ss out of me now. Bossman's expecting you to deliver a one-on-one chat, so just put it on and play along. Help me complete the vision, will you?
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, jeez...
(Reluctantly, Kenny picks up his own bandana and wraps it around his head. He seems repulsed, probably wondering where it's been and thinking he should probably get checked for lice later. He notices Rezin taking a seat in one of the chairs, and the reporter promptly takes his own place at the other end of the table. The camera gets both men centered in the shot, and Kenny continues.)
Kenny Lombardo
What's going on here, Rezin?
(He doesn't answer the question right away. Instead, he grabs the bottom of the bag and lets the last item drop out into the middle of the table with a heavy thud. The sight of a six-barrel revolver in the dim, waning light causes Kenny to jump up out of his chair.)
Kenny Lombardo
OH MY GOD, HE'S GOT A GUN!!
Rezin
Relax, Kenny...
Kenny Lombardo
CALL THE POLICE, HE'S GONE POSTAL THIS TIME!!
Rezin
Kenny... have a seat. Look...
(Rezin picks up the revolver and opens it to show all six chambers are empty.)
Rezin
It's not even loaded. Well... not right now, anyway. Now sit down and let's get this thing started.
Kenny Lombardo
I'm not starting ANYTHING until you get that gun out of here! Are you CRAZY?!
Rezin
Heh, maybe... but you see, Kenny, this is a part of the vision as well.
Kenny Lombardo
I don't care! I don't trust you with any weapon, loaded or regardless!
Rezin
...weapon? You think this here is a WEAPON?
Let me show you what a REAL weapon looks like, Kenny...
("The Escape Artist" takes a handful of his pants to yank his leg up onto the table, pulling the cuff up past his foot and baring the business-end of his dreadful heel.)
Rezin
THAT'S a weapon right there, Kenny!
You heard of the unbreakable swords made of Damascus steel? Well this sh*t right here is Damascus HEEL... and unless you want to conduct this entire interview slumped unconscious in that chair from the Mach 3 Turbo force of THIS going right into your g*ddamn face, I suggest you sit the f*ck down, shut the f*ck up, and listen to what I have to say?
(The camera gets a close-up of Kenny's face as he fully realizes the grim reality of a spinning heel kick to the face. Timidly, he returns to the table and takes his seat. Meanwhile, Rezin picks the revolver up and takes something from the pocket of his coat... it looks like a bullet, but not quite.)
Kenny Lombardo
And what's THAT?
Rezin
Oh, just a harmless paint pellet. Won't even break the skin... I mean, unless you shoot from point blank...
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, I think I get it now. Russian Roulette is coming... and it just so happens that's the game we're playing.
Rezin
That's right, Kenny... that's EXACLTY right. I knew you were always smarter than the rest...
See, I figured it was high time I reminded all those stupid, sheltered, idealistic assh*les out there just where this Pay Per View got its namesake.
Kenny Lombardo
Well, Russian Roulette is indeed the name of the Pay Per View... but I always thought the title alluded to taking risks and uncertain outcomes. Is it really necessary to delve into it really more than that?
Rezin
Probably not, but we're going to do it anyway... because I said so.
See, Russian Roulette is not just a game made up by Ivan's drunken forefathers. It's a metaphor of life itself. Every day we wake up, we put an invisible bullet into the chamber of an invisible gun, hold it to our head, and pull the trigger. Many times, nothing happens. But sometimes...
(The morbid and sickening grin spreads across his face.)
Rezin
Sometimes, playing the game of chance bites you in the ass... and all that's left is despair, defeat, and disappointment.
(Kenny shakes his head as the goat bastard chuckles to himself.)
Kenny Lombardo
"Despair, defeat, and disappointment", so you say... and yet you're somehow amused by that?
Rezin
No, Kenny... what amuses me is how everybody in this federation continues to IGNORE it.
Nobody believes the invisible hand of fate could EVER interfere in their ideal and perfect little lives. They think as long as they stick to their wholesome, one-dimensional values, nothing could possibly go wrong.
Well they THOUGHT wrong... and I'm here to show them just how wrong they were all along.
(He gives the chamber a whirl, letting the game of chance decide where it stops.)
Rezin
The wheel of fate keeps on turning throughout the passage of time... and if you're not careful, it will come back to haunt you.
Just look at Cameron Cruise and Copycat. Two years ago, when they were a part of the Anthology, those assh*les thought nothing could touch them. Every time they were booked in a match against the Fallen, they'd treat it as nothing less than a guaranteed win. They brought such shame to the name "Erik Black" that I was forced to kick it to the curb in an effort to disassociate myself with that embarrassing period of time where that moron Dopesmoker was in control.
(He sets the revolver onto the table again, in front of the reporter.)
Rezin
Here you go.. you first.
Kenny Lombardo
Uhh... do I have to? Looks like it could really hurt...
Rezin
The worst that could possibly happen is half your head gets covered in paint and you wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache. That's not even half as bad as what I'm going to do to you if you keep f*cking stalling...
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, jeez...
(Beads of sweat break out on the reporter's brow as he reluctantly reaches out and touches the gun. He draws his hand back after the first moment of contact as if it was hot to touch, but then picks it up, pulls back on the hammer, and holds it in the proper position against his temple. Rezin watches him all the while, the evil smile not leaving his face.)
Rezin
Anyway, as I was saying... time has finally caught up to the likes of Cameron Cruise and Copycat. Now, two years later, Cat's got his OWN tongue, and Cruise now realizes he'll never be the great wrestler he sees himself as by simply surrounding himself with other talent. The tables have turned... and what's left for their careers now?
(Kenny says a quiet prayer to himself, shuts his eyes, holds his breath, and pulls the trigger...)
(SFX: *Click...*)
Rezin
NOTHING.
(Lombardo lets out a sigh of relief as he quickly sets the revolver down, sliding it to Rezin. The Escape Artist quite casually picks it up and repeats the process, loading up the next chamber.)
Kenny Lombardo
Nothing's left for them? Do you say that because you just beat them in the ring?
Rezin
There's been nothing to their careers for a long time, Kenny. I just made it more obvious back there at Aggression.
I mean, don't you think it's a little coincidental that Cameron Cruise is suddenly M-I-A? Or is it just that the realization that he was overcome by Empire Pro's most notrious bottom-feeder was just too harsh of a reality check? One that he JUST... doesn't like?
(Rezin chuckles, pulling back the hammer and squeezing the trigger.)
(SFX: *Click...*)
(He grins like a madman.)
Rezin
Two down, four to go, Kenny...
(He slides the revolver back to Lombardo, and worry once again fills the reporter's eyes.)
Rezin
I don't really know the truth, but what I DO know is that makes THREE talents I've sent into early retirement over three consecutive shows.
Kenny Lombardo
Even though we haven't heard anything from him yet, I'm not sure if Cameron Cruise is officially retired as the result of a single loss...
Rezin
Well then, maybe he can go back to Canada to cut promos about how much greater he is than people he's never beat. F*cked if I knew, and f*cked if I cared...
As for me, I'm moving on. The uncompromising drift of a godless and indifferent cosmos has put me on a path of absolute destruction, and Dan Ryan's glorious Empire stands in my way. Wherever I go, the body count keeps rising while the world keeps antagonizing.
Kenny Lombardo
How poetic... I would be correct to assume, then, that you're continuing your insane master plan to bring down the federation by vacating all of its championship gold?
Rezin
That's right, Kenny. One by one, I'll cripple the champions... I'll destroy the belts... and this illustrious federation everybody holds dear will be no more.
Now come on, you're up...
Kenny Lombardo
Oh man... oh jeez...
(Kenny is visibly trembling now as he picks up the revolver again. Once again, he squeezes his eye shut and bares his gritting teeth. From somewhere deep inside him, a whining sound is being made. Finally, he braces himself for an earful of paint and pain and pulls the trigger.)
(SFX: *Click...*)
Kenny Lombardo
Oh THANK YOU, God...
(Kenny wipes the sweat from his forehead as he quickly gives the gun back to the goat bastard sneering at him from across the table. Rezin looks amused by his panicked reactions.)
Rezin
Halfway there, Kenny... hang with me, you're doing fine.
Kenny Lombardo
Whoof... whatever say.
Anyway, if its the belts you're still going after, then tell us what you think about Copycat moving on from a loss at Aggression to compete against the Intercontinental Champion, Impulse, at the Pay Per View? Do you think maybe you deserved that spot since you were the man to walk away from that match the decisive winner?
Rezin
In a just and idealistic world, maybe... but we don't live in such a world. Liars, despots, and phonies surround us, and they do everything they can to protect themselves.
Dan Ryan isn't stupid. He's not going to feed his dog with his own fat and over-priviledged offspring... and likewise, he's not going to feed the most destructive and apocalyptic force this federation's ever SEEN his prized and pristine champions. I imagine it will be some time before I worm my way into a title shot... but I've got all the time in the world, and he won't be able to hold out much longer the way I keep sending his overpaid talent into the infirmary night after night.
(Kenny watches eagerly as Rezin pulls back the hammer and non-chalantly puts the gun to his head. He knows at this point it's two to one in his favor that the next bullet is the single paint decoy put into it earlier. There is no fear on Rezin's face as he pulls the trigger...)
(SFX: *Click...*)
(Lombardo grimaces, and the sneering grin reappears on Rezin's face as he lowers the gun and slides it across the table once again.)
Rezin
Oh buddy, it's gettin' down to brass tacks now.
Kenny Lombardo
Okay, okay... so then, what are your thoughts on being booked to compete against Mr. Sunshine at Russian Roulette?
Rezin
My thoughts? You couldn't possibly handle the knowledge of what goes on my damned mind, Kenny...
Kenny Lombardo
I'll take your word for it, but don't you think this match-up is a bit interesting?
Rezin
How's that?
Kenny Lombardo
Well, you know... given that the both of you have recently adopted newer, more unhinged alter egos, some would draw similarities in your personalities. Some are saying this will be the fight that determines who the craziest and most violent man in EPW really is.
Rezin
I don't really see any similarities myself, Kenny. When I look at the man once known as Rich Franklin, I see a man living in his own messed-up reality. Now he wants to be "Mr. Sunshine"... the beacon of hope, happiness, and the fulfillment of life.
I don't live in that reality, Kenny. I live in a world that is very much real, but also very much unseen by those who don't have the heart or the mental capacity to see that sewers run beneath the streets, and scum lingers in every nook, cranny, and corner where man dare not tread.
There IS no, Sunshine, Kenny... just filth... sh*t... REZIN...
(He grins again as he looks to the gun, pausing until the reporter picks it up and very slowly pulls back the hammer. It's a fifty-fifty chance at this point. He is completely white as a ghost now, his wan face rivaling even Rezin's own ashy complexion. Even so, motivated by the fear of whatever might happen if he refuses to go through with this, he brings the gun up to his head.)
Kenny Lombardo
Oh, lord in heaven...
(Ever so slowly, he pulls the trigger...)
(SFX: *Click...*)
(Kenny's eyes pop open in surprise, and despite himself, he can't withold showing a relieved smile.)
Kenny Lombardo
HA HA!! I MADE IT!!
(He sets down the revolver, five chambers empty, the next all but certain to contain the paint pellet. Kenny recomposes himself when sees that Rezin is no longer smiling. Grimly, he lights up his mini-blowtorch and takes a hit off the resin bong. The fit of coughing that follows is long, but eventually subsides.)
Rezin
Anyway, people can see this match how they want... it's obvious to me that Bossman's trying to thin the crazies out of his asylum by setting them on each other. What do you think, Kenny?
Kenny Lombardo
I, uh... I think I need a change of pants.
Rezin
It's cool... happens to the best of us.
I don't give a sh*t about Dan Ryan or his intentions, Kenny. He's more focused on ridding his federation of another lunatic and unstable eyesore. The cosmos has already set the destruction of Empire Pro in motion... and sooner or later, whether it takes a few weeks or a few years, that destruction will finally come at my black-stained hands.
(Kenny can't help but scoff and roll his eyes. An arrogant note fills his voice, probably invigorated by his success in the game of chance.)
Kenny Lombardo
Whatever you say... but hey, speaking of bad things to come, isn't it YOUR turn?
(Knowing full well that a player must see a game all the way to the end, the Escape Artist picks the gun up. An astute viewer would note that he's been doing this with his left hand... a peculiar sight, given that Erik Black has always been right-handed. With a sneer crossing his face, he lifts the gun to his head and pulls the hammer back.)
Rezin
You can mock me now, Kenny... just like everybody else... but it won't stop the doom that awaits us all.
Kenny Lombardo
Talk all you want, but even you have to admit that even you are just as powerless to the doom that awaits YOU, "Rezin"...
Rezin
You're right, Kenny... I AM powerless.
(The barrel of the gun suddenly moves from his temple to Kenny's chest. Lombardo assumes the deer in headlights expression and holds up his hands. Rezin's insane grin reappears.)
Rezin
But I'm also f*cking CRAZY!
(Frozen in fear, Kenny looks in horror as Rezin pulls the trigger.)
(SFX: *BANG!!*)
Kenny Lombardo
OH GAWD, YOU SHOT ME, YOU F*CKING GOAT BASTARD!!
(A blue splatter of paint appears on the reporter's chest as he clutches at the point of impact in pain. As he struggles to breath, a shadow falls over him...)
(SFX: *SMACK~!!*)
(...and he flails backwards out of the chair and lands into a heap as Rezin's heel swings into his face with the force of a million megatons. Looking down at the wounded reporter, the Escape Artist throws his head back and cackles like a hellion.)
Rezin
HA-HA... HA-HA-HAHAHAHAHA!!!
(When he's finished, his head suddenly jerks over his shoulder, taking notice of the camera. The guy holding it can't help but nervously back up a few steps.)
Camera Man (O/C)
Oh SH*T!
(Rezin's attention suddenly goes above him, and he reaches up to grab the boom mic looming above the shot, causing it to feed back. The grip tries to keep ahold, but quickly lets go. Rezin begins recklessly flailing the mic around like a warstaff, prompting the camera man to just drop the camera and hit the road.)
Camera Man
Come on, man, this guy's f*cking batsh*t! Grab him and let's get the hell out of here!
(The canted angled of the camera shows Kenny's camera crew peeling the unconscious reporter off the floor and dragging him away. Rezin's heel, still glistening with Lombardo's slobber, steps into the shot. The view shifts as he picks the camera up and holds it up to his nasty and whiskered face. He strips the aviators off to reveal horribly reddened eyes.)
Rezin
MISTER SUNSHINE... make no mistake about it... I'm the sickest, craziest, self-destructingest son of c*nt that's ever lit up the Empire Pro ring, and I'm gonna be the one to burn it down!
Think you can stop me...?
(He chuckles at the very thought.)
Rezin
The last three that have tried have failed...
We won't be playing games come Russian Roulette when I step into that ring and KICK YOUR F*CKING FACE OFF... MOONSAULT YOU through F*CKING TABLE... and RIP OUT YOUR F*CKING TEETH with the COTTONMOUTH! Mark my words, life ain't gonna be all that SUNNY once I've turned your entire world into a black and bottomless SH*THOLE!
(He snorts and spits something thick and inhumanly black into the camera lens, blotting out our vision. Soon after, the shot goes to static as he drops the camera to the floor. The music rides out as we fade to black.)
Rob Franklin
League Member
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Butterflies and Unicorns
Fade in to grainy, dark footage of Mr. Sunshine, sitting in a lawnchair in the night. the still of the night being broken by only the chirps of crickets as Sunshine addresses the camera.
...you know, you shouldn't play with guns, Mr. Rezin.
Sunshine laughs as he leans back further into his chair, further into the darkness, the lines of his face only slightly obscured by the night air.
You know, I was going to do something similar, but not with "paint pellets." The reason I say that I was 'going to," is because, according to the mental health professionals that are burdened by my care, I am not allowed to own, or handle a firearm.
Funny, don't you think? What do they think of me?
Guns, well, they just aren't my style. There's no art form in a gun. If I ever did want to compromise the life of another, I'd be a little more...creative.
But hey, enough about me! I feel like all I do is talk about me. I don't know how that's supposed to be conducive to my healing as a sociopath, talking about myself for hours on end.
I mean, you have things to say, some might say you're crazier than me. That's fine. I'm not TRYING to be crazy, I just am. I've worked for a long time to be able to get myself to the point where I can even have this job. I'm not going to fly off the handle in a promo, that's not my intention. My intention here, is to calmly, and lucidly warn you of what you're getting yourself into.
I mean, doing little tricks and pushing around cameramen. It's...what's the word...
...cute.
I don't think you understand me. I mean, it's not your fault. I think we're on different level intellectually, but of course, I think that about everyone.
I'm working on that.
I may be trying to better myself, but let's just say that simply, it's not working. I sit in this chair, looking out over this land I bought when the money was better, and nothing matters to me. Certainly not you, Mr. Rezin.
I mean, it's hard for me to read you, but that's not a problem. I don't need to read you, to destroy you.
Your goals are lofty, your goals don't even pertain to me, and that's going to be your downfall. Mr. Rezin, I beg of you, don't buy that belt polisher yet,you have so unfinished business to attend to.
And, I like to think of myself as a calm guy.
A wry smile crosses Sunshine's face for a moment, and just as quickly, he stifles it.
I like to think that I can...control my temper, but Mr. Rezin, I've never taken too kindly to being overlooked.I don't take kindly to being just another bump in your road. You want to take over EPW? Fine.
But you're not going to do it at my expense.
Hell, you're not even going to do it at Rich Franklin's expense, considering he's a UFC fighter that has...little to nothing to do with this match.
Sunshine raises his hand sheepishly.
Hi Ace.
Sunshine reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a single cigarette. He lights it, the glowing ember creating a shadow effect upon his face.
Your view of the world is very unique, Rezin. You like to think that you see the world for what it is, a filthy, dark place.
We share that viewpoint to an extent, much to the chagrin of my head shrinking doctor.
But you have it wrong. Everyone can see your reality. Guys like you and myself, we just see it a little more clearly than the others.
I have a reoccurring dream. It's me, standing atop of a building, scraping the sky, and watching the entire world burn to the ground.
I wouldn't say that it's my goal in life, but it WOULD be nice.
That's where I am, Rezin. I'm on top of EPW, looking down. Regardless of the fact that you can't see it, it's happening. I'm above you, I'm looking down upon you.
...and I'm going to watch you burn.
Your...goal, the one you speak of, the one about holding every title in this federation, and destroying them. That goal won't be realized.
You will slip further into madness, because you'll have failed. Your failure will be realized because of me. I will make you fail because I'm better than you.
Yes. I'm. Better. Than. You.
Have you ever heard somebody say that, Mr. Rezin? If you're anything like me, it makes your blood boil. You're bubbling up with anger right now, at the very thought of ANYONE being better than you are at anything, let alone some crazy **** you've never even heard of.
I know that's how you feel. We're not so different, you and I.
You've got a temper? I've got one too. You'll see. You'll all see. All of you who told me I was done. All of you who told me I was crazy. I'm going to show you all how crazy I really am. I've said I'm the best ever, and been scoffed at, but who will be scoffing when I beat you, Rezin? Not you, that's for sure.
I want to take everything from you. Your win, your triumphant pay per view appearance, your health, everything. I don't want to beat you, I want to leave you with nothing, clinging to your dreams that will never come true.
I want you to take that little gun of yours, put some real ammo in it, and expel it into your f*cking mouth.
Why?
Why do I want to do this?
Sunshine pauses for a moment, reflecting on the question himself.
I don't know.
It's not because I don't like you, Rezin. I like fine. I like you just as much as every other oxygen wasting stain upon this planet that isn't myself. But I want you to suffer.
I mean, if you could help me, that would be great.
Help me figure it out, o' wise one? You think you know me so well, don't you? You think you have me all figured out?
I'LL TAKE MY THERAPY, MR. REZIN.
Sunshine stands up, kicking the chair out from under it. He crawls on his knees to the camera set up.
CRASH ME THROUGH THE TABLE, MR REZIN! MAYBE THE ANSWERS ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE! KICK ME RIGHT IN THE TEETH, I DON'T NEED THEM ANYWAY! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME, MR. REZIN
DON'T YOU SEE? DON'T YOU ALL SEE? PAIN ISN'T MY MOTIVATION! I'M NOT AFRAID TO DIE, REZIN, I'M ALREADY F*CKING DEAD! IF YOU COULD KILL ME, IT WOULDN'T BOTHER ME, BUT THE F*CKING FACTS ARE ALL IN, AND YOU CAN'T!
Out of breath, Sunshine finally takes a gasp of air. He remains silent as his heavy breathing subsides. He falls backwards, sitting on the ground.
You can't kill me, Rezin. No one can. I'm forced to walk this Earth inside my prison cell of a mind forever. I wish you were the man that could step up and take me down, but you don't have it in you. You're weak in your convictions, Rezin, a lot weaker than you've been letting on.
Sunshine tosses the cigarette from his mouth, walks back to his upturned chair, and sits down, gathering himself from his earlier outburst.
Oh well, thus is life, I suppose. We're all putting on a show. All of us are, even me at times. I don't think we're being paired up against each other in order to 'take each other out,' though.
I think it's fate, Rezin. I think you need to go back to living your life, to let go of this silly little dream.
Maybe I'm supposed to help you.
Of course, I won't help. Unless leaving you laying in the ring, looking up at lights as if they were celestial answers is helpful. Unless squeezing every last bit of hope you have left out of you until you're nothing but a broken man, a man with a dream, but no way to fulfill it, unless that's helpful on your journey.
We're not two batty ships, passing in the night, Rezin. We're more like two hand grenades ready to explode.
I'm not afraid to pull the pin. I have nothing to lose.
At this point, getting defeated would be a breakthrough. My therapist would love, he calls it 'a humbling experience.'
I call it 'impossible.'
But hey, bring your best to Russian Roulette. You'll never know, I may just take pity on you.
I mean, there's a whole world of empathy out there, I know, that if I try hard enough I can...
...oh well, I give up. That empathy thing is hard to wrap my head around.
I'm glad you're ready to look down the chamber of a gun. You're facing a weapon even more dangerous at Russian Roulette.
The mind of a madman.
Fade to black.
Fade in to grainy, dark footage of Mr. Sunshine, sitting in a lawnchair in the night. the still of the night being broken by only the chirps of crickets as Sunshine addresses the camera.
...you know, you shouldn't play with guns, Mr. Rezin.
Sunshine laughs as he leans back further into his chair, further into the darkness, the lines of his face only slightly obscured by the night air.
You know, I was going to do something similar, but not with "paint pellets." The reason I say that I was 'going to," is because, according to the mental health professionals that are burdened by my care, I am not allowed to own, or handle a firearm.
Funny, don't you think? What do they think of me?
Guns, well, they just aren't my style. There's no art form in a gun. If I ever did want to compromise the life of another, I'd be a little more...creative.
But hey, enough about me! I feel like all I do is talk about me. I don't know how that's supposed to be conducive to my healing as a sociopath, talking about myself for hours on end.
I mean, you have things to say, some might say you're crazier than me. That's fine. I'm not TRYING to be crazy, I just am. I've worked for a long time to be able to get myself to the point where I can even have this job. I'm not going to fly off the handle in a promo, that's not my intention. My intention here, is to calmly, and lucidly warn you of what you're getting yourself into.
I mean, doing little tricks and pushing around cameramen. It's...what's the word...
...cute.
I don't think you understand me. I mean, it's not your fault. I think we're on different level intellectually, but of course, I think that about everyone.
I'm working on that.
I may be trying to better myself, but let's just say that simply, it's not working. I sit in this chair, looking out over this land I bought when the money was better, and nothing matters to me. Certainly not you, Mr. Rezin.
I mean, it's hard for me to read you, but that's not a problem. I don't need to read you, to destroy you.
Your goals are lofty, your goals don't even pertain to me, and that's going to be your downfall. Mr. Rezin, I beg of you, don't buy that belt polisher yet,you have so unfinished business to attend to.
And, I like to think of myself as a calm guy.
A wry smile crosses Sunshine's face for a moment, and just as quickly, he stifles it.
I like to think that I can...control my temper, but Mr. Rezin, I've never taken too kindly to being overlooked.I don't take kindly to being just another bump in your road. You want to take over EPW? Fine.
But you're not going to do it at my expense.
Hell, you're not even going to do it at Rich Franklin's expense, considering he's a UFC fighter that has...little to nothing to do with this match.
Sunshine raises his hand sheepishly.
Hi Ace.
Sunshine reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a single cigarette. He lights it, the glowing ember creating a shadow effect upon his face.
Your view of the world is very unique, Rezin. You like to think that you see the world for what it is, a filthy, dark place.
We share that viewpoint to an extent, much to the chagrin of my head shrinking doctor.
But you have it wrong. Everyone can see your reality. Guys like you and myself, we just see it a little more clearly than the others.
I have a reoccurring dream. It's me, standing atop of a building, scraping the sky, and watching the entire world burn to the ground.
I wouldn't say that it's my goal in life, but it WOULD be nice.
That's where I am, Rezin. I'm on top of EPW, looking down. Regardless of the fact that you can't see it, it's happening. I'm above you, I'm looking down upon you.
...and I'm going to watch you burn.
Your...goal, the one you speak of, the one about holding every title in this federation, and destroying them. That goal won't be realized.
You will slip further into madness, because you'll have failed. Your failure will be realized because of me. I will make you fail because I'm better than you.
Yes. I'm. Better. Than. You.
Have you ever heard somebody say that, Mr. Rezin? If you're anything like me, it makes your blood boil. You're bubbling up with anger right now, at the very thought of ANYONE being better than you are at anything, let alone some crazy **** you've never even heard of.
I know that's how you feel. We're not so different, you and I.
You've got a temper? I've got one too. You'll see. You'll all see. All of you who told me I was done. All of you who told me I was crazy. I'm going to show you all how crazy I really am. I've said I'm the best ever, and been scoffed at, but who will be scoffing when I beat you, Rezin? Not you, that's for sure.
I want to take everything from you. Your win, your triumphant pay per view appearance, your health, everything. I don't want to beat you, I want to leave you with nothing, clinging to your dreams that will never come true.
I want you to take that little gun of yours, put some real ammo in it, and expel it into your f*cking mouth.
Why?
Why do I want to do this?
Sunshine pauses for a moment, reflecting on the question himself.
I don't know.
It's not because I don't like you, Rezin. I like fine. I like you just as much as every other oxygen wasting stain upon this planet that isn't myself. But I want you to suffer.
I mean, if you could help me, that would be great.
Help me figure it out, o' wise one? You think you know me so well, don't you? You think you have me all figured out?
I'LL TAKE MY THERAPY, MR. REZIN.
Sunshine stands up, kicking the chair out from under it. He crawls on his knees to the camera set up.
CRASH ME THROUGH THE TABLE, MR REZIN! MAYBE THE ANSWERS ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE! KICK ME RIGHT IN THE TEETH, I DON'T NEED THEM ANYWAY! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME, MR. REZIN
DON'T YOU SEE? DON'T YOU ALL SEE? PAIN ISN'T MY MOTIVATION! I'M NOT AFRAID TO DIE, REZIN, I'M ALREADY F*CKING DEAD! IF YOU COULD KILL ME, IT WOULDN'T BOTHER ME, BUT THE F*CKING FACTS ARE ALL IN, AND YOU CAN'T!
Out of breath, Sunshine finally takes a gasp of air. He remains silent as his heavy breathing subsides. He falls backwards, sitting on the ground.
You can't kill me, Rezin. No one can. I'm forced to walk this Earth inside my prison cell of a mind forever. I wish you were the man that could step up and take me down, but you don't have it in you. You're weak in your convictions, Rezin, a lot weaker than you've been letting on.
Sunshine tosses the cigarette from his mouth, walks back to his upturned chair, and sits down, gathering himself from his earlier outburst.
Oh well, thus is life, I suppose. We're all putting on a show. All of us are, even me at times. I don't think we're being paired up against each other in order to 'take each other out,' though.
I think it's fate, Rezin. I think you need to go back to living your life, to let go of this silly little dream.
Maybe I'm supposed to help you.
Of course, I won't help. Unless leaving you laying in the ring, looking up at lights as if they were celestial answers is helpful. Unless squeezing every last bit of hope you have left out of you until you're nothing but a broken man, a man with a dream, but no way to fulfill it, unless that's helpful on your journey.
We're not two batty ships, passing in the night, Rezin. We're more like two hand grenades ready to explode.
I'm not afraid to pull the pin. I have nothing to lose.
At this point, getting defeated would be a breakthrough. My therapist would love, he calls it 'a humbling experience.'
I call it 'impossible.'
But hey, bring your best to Russian Roulette. You'll never know, I may just take pity on you.
I mean, there's a whole world of empathy out there, I know, that if I try hard enough I can...
...oh well, I give up. That empathy thing is hard to wrap my head around.
I'm glad you're ready to look down the chamber of a gun. You're facing a weapon even more dangerous at Russian Roulette.
The mind of a madman.
Fade to black.
My Moonsault Eclipses Your Sunshine
(CUE UP: "The Sun Has Turned to Black" by Electric Wizard.)
(Yeah, I know it's been done before, but the title has some significance, don't you think?)
(FADE IN: The shot opens with a black blotch of dried snot spread out over the lens, as if we were picking up from where we left off last time. A pair of blackened fingers wipes it away, and soon after we can see REZIN coming around the camera to take a seat. Rather than sitting on a lawn chair outside in the dark like we'd see from any typical "crazy guy" promo, he's stepped it up a bit by finding a derelict and abandoned cellar full of worthless junk. Within a tomb of obsolete artifacts and forgotten heirlooms, the Escape Artist slouches in an old lounging chair with ruined upholstry. In one hand, Rezin holds his nefarious resin bong, and in the other, the boom mic he stole from the camera crew, still attached to its dented rod and plugged into the camera.)
Rezin
Hello, my little lambs... and a miserable day to you all.
(He follows this opening by taking a quick huff off the smoking business end of is water pipe. He keeps the hacking and wheezing that usually follows to a single piercing cough and continues.)
Rezin
I hope you'll excuse the timing of this. See, in any other circumstance, I'm usually not the guy who suddenly drops a promo on the day of the show. Lately, though... it's been hard for me to get any kind of word out there... especially now that Empire Pro's reporting crews are refusing to come anywhere near me.
By the way, if you're listening out there, then I hope you get well soon, Kenny. Call me sometime, bro... I promise I'll make it up to you.
(The smile on his face says that he'll do anything but, and if Kenny Lombardo really IS watching out there, he's likely swearing at his television in a blind rage, remembering the dull, throbbing pain that lingers in his jaw to this day.)
Rezin
So, I apologize for that. D*ck move, I know, but I guess lately, the Cosmos has been forcing me to make some very d*ck decisions.
Don't like it? Deal with it. Now shut the f*ck up, sit the f*ck down, and open your mongrel ears. You might actually learn something today, you pea-brained sh*t-apes.
Let me recall a story for you all. The other day, I'm taking a stroll down the block, just minding my own business... and this guy walks up to me. He asks, "Hey Rezin, aren't you getting annoyed with these crazy guys appearing in Empire Pro? Do you think possibly that they could be depreciating the appeal of your gimmick by completly and utterly wearing it out?"
I mean... let's not kid ourselves into thinking that nobody's noticed how every other guy on the roster these days is either completely bonkers, or at least in the process of getting there. I'll admit, I noticed the trend myself... and I knew it would only be a number of time before somebody asked what I thought of all the insanity running rampant through this federation like it was a g*ddamn strain of flu.
So I kindly explained to the kid, after I spinning heel kicked him through a storefront window, that it actually doesn't annoy me at all. In fact, I welcome it.
(He grins so fiercely that a Christian mother would feel compelled to cover her childrens' eyes.)
Rezin
I say, let the inmates take over the asylum. Let the Bossman distract himself while he weedles them out one after another, desperately trying to show his people that he's still the man in control. The immaculate order of his Empire is descending into chaos, and I absolutely love seeing it all slip away.
Sure, without looking as retarded as the next guy saying it, I can't exactly brag about being the craziest, sickest, motherf*ckingest son of a b*tch in EPW -- though that bitter reality should already go without saying. Still, it only serves to support my cause for sowing the seeds of dischord and the coming destruction of a professional wrestling Empire.
I keep leaving a trail of waste and woe in my ever-dreadful wake, but thanks to all the other idiots, attention whores, and posers in that locker room getting all the heat, nobody has yet to do anything about it. As long as I'm at the bottom of Dan Ryan's list of priorities, I'm absolutely FREE to wreak havoc on all of EPW without fear of consequence.
Because while the Bossman wastes his time and effort to chase the fat and noisy rats out of his pristine and immaculate home, he forgets that there are other pests abound that pose even greater dangers...
(He points up to the floorboards over his head, where an elaborate network of spider webbing hangs, exposing to the world at large a hidden graveyard for flies and moths.)
Rezin
In the darkest corners of his house, a venomous black recluse continues to spin a web of doom... waiting for the right moment to strike in the night. Waiting for the perfect time to slip down while the master is asleep, and fill all that he loves with a deadly, resinous poison.
(He takes a heavy rip off his resin bong and sends a cloud up into the webbing, perhaps to share some of the maddening intoxication with his natural equivalents.)
Rezin
Until that moment comes, though, I'm just going to have to bide my time, and begrudgingly go ahead with this sly money-making scheme of his, pitting the crazies against each other and hoping the vermin problem will just solve itself. If he can't beat us, then I suppose the least he could do is profit off of us.
You call it "fate", Mr. Sunshine... but fate is a strange word for what is clearly business-minded booking. I'd call it predestination.
Yes, I'm sure the fans of Empire Pro would have just absolutely LOVED to see you and me ride out this week exchanging one irrational, nonsensical rant after the next. No doubt, it would have been good for a chuckle, and might have even sold an extra Pay Per View buy or two with an interest in seeing what sort of f*cked up sh*t we're going to do to each other in the ring.
For me, though... for the ol' Goat Bastard... it would have just been redundant and pointless. I listen to what you say, Mr. Sunshine, hoping to hear from another perspective. Instead, I just hear the same things I've been telling people for MONTHS being thrown right back into my face. Makes me almost wonder... are you REALLY crazy, or are you just ripping off my style?
Unoriginality aside, there is one thing that does set us apart... and that's this whole idea you have that "you... are... better... than... me..."
(Drawing out the last line in clear mockery of his opponent, Rezin follows up with a seemingly unimpressed shrug.)
Rezin
Better than me, huh? Based on what, exactly? Are you better just because you say so? Is there any actual validity to that claim, Ron?
Or is it Russ? Randy? Rick? Roy? To be honest, you were never in this federation long enough for me to make any kind of effort to remember what your first named used to be. And I guess that's the whole point I'm trying to make... you can't just claim to be "better than" the next guy when you've wrestled fewer matches in Empire Pro than I can count on one hand.
You don't have any PROOF that you're better than me, Sunshine... and to be frank, coming out and saying something that stupid so brazenly doesn't get my blood boiling like you'd hope. It doesn't even amuse me anymore. At this point, I can only pity you for your narrowmindedness.
Besides that, being "better" doesn't guarantee anything. Hell, there would be many who would say that Cameron Cruise, with his scientific wrestling knowledge, and Copycat, with his cunning genius, are by all accounts "better" wrestlers than myself. But it didn't help them, in the end. I could very well be the undisputed WORST on the Empire Pro roster, yet that doesn't stop me from getting results.
And have you even bothered to take note of those results, Sunshine? Let's recap... a broken knee... a burned beard... and a shattered ego. But these things didn't happen because I'm better than anyone... they happened because my past opponents underestimated the extent of my destructive abilities.
Much like you're underestimating me now, Sunshine, by thinking you can succeed where every one of your predecessors failed based solely on your confidence in your madness. Unlike you, when I say I'm crazy, people BELIEVE ME because they can look at the things I've done. All you can do is sit there, make hollow threats, and say, "just you wait... you'll see... you'll ALL SEE!!"
But I kinda doubt we'll be seeing anything... and you know why?
(He shakes his head, and a moment later rises out of the chair and slowly creeps up on the camera.)
Rezin
Because for me, Sunshine, this isn't a contest to prove who's crazier or who's better. Clearly, winning isn't a priority, since it seems losing provides greater rewards. See Copycat...
I don't have dreams or aspirations of greatness, or anything like that. There are no invisible "goals" for you to prevent me from reaching. I simply act upon whatever natural impulses enter my mind, and those impulses happen to be to destroy and ruin everything around me. It's the path the Cosmos has set before me... like a deep-space meteor on a collision course, obliterating everything in its path.
There's no reason to measure dicks here, Sunshine... because win or lose, you CAN'T make me fail. Erik Black is ALREADY a failure at life, thanks to that moron Dopesmoker. And yet, despite his losses, he keeps trudging on... moonsaulting mofoz left and right without remorse.
(His diabolical face now fills the entire camera, and he rips his shades off to match a terrifying grin with glazed, reddened eyes.)
Rezin
And that's just what I'm going to do when we meet in the ring. There's nothing for me to gain... there's nothing for me to prove... I'm simply compelled to do this, and I won't be stopped by anyone or anything. I'm not going to try and deny that my inner darkness is a force of evil and malice by calling it "sunshine"... I'm going to EMBRACE that darkness, and spread it wherever I can!
You think YOU are crazy, Franklin? You haven't SEEN crazy until you've lived your life in the muck and the shadows!
At Russian Roulette, the sunny side of your mind is going to be faced with an absolute solar eclipse. I'm going to bring you down to my level of reality, and we'll see how long you last then.
(Rezin reaches up and flips off the camera, causing it to immediately cut to black.)
(CUE UP: "The Sun Has Turned to Black" by Electric Wizard.)
(Yeah, I know it's been done before, but the title has some significance, don't you think?)
(FADE IN: The shot opens with a black blotch of dried snot spread out over the lens, as if we were picking up from where we left off last time. A pair of blackened fingers wipes it away, and soon after we can see REZIN coming around the camera to take a seat. Rather than sitting on a lawn chair outside in the dark like we'd see from any typical "crazy guy" promo, he's stepped it up a bit by finding a derelict and abandoned cellar full of worthless junk. Within a tomb of obsolete artifacts and forgotten heirlooms, the Escape Artist slouches in an old lounging chair with ruined upholstry. In one hand, Rezin holds his nefarious resin bong, and in the other, the boom mic he stole from the camera crew, still attached to its dented rod and plugged into the camera.)
Rezin
Hello, my little lambs... and a miserable day to you all.
(He follows this opening by taking a quick huff off the smoking business end of is water pipe. He keeps the hacking and wheezing that usually follows to a single piercing cough and continues.)
Rezin
I hope you'll excuse the timing of this. See, in any other circumstance, I'm usually not the guy who suddenly drops a promo on the day of the show. Lately, though... it's been hard for me to get any kind of word out there... especially now that Empire Pro's reporting crews are refusing to come anywhere near me.
By the way, if you're listening out there, then I hope you get well soon, Kenny. Call me sometime, bro... I promise I'll make it up to you.
(The smile on his face says that he'll do anything but, and if Kenny Lombardo really IS watching out there, he's likely swearing at his television in a blind rage, remembering the dull, throbbing pain that lingers in his jaw to this day.)
Rezin
So, I apologize for that. D*ck move, I know, but I guess lately, the Cosmos has been forcing me to make some very d*ck decisions.
Don't like it? Deal with it. Now shut the f*ck up, sit the f*ck down, and open your mongrel ears. You might actually learn something today, you pea-brained sh*t-apes.
Let me recall a story for you all. The other day, I'm taking a stroll down the block, just minding my own business... and this guy walks up to me. He asks, "Hey Rezin, aren't you getting annoyed with these crazy guys appearing in Empire Pro? Do you think possibly that they could be depreciating the appeal of your gimmick by completly and utterly wearing it out?"
I mean... let's not kid ourselves into thinking that nobody's noticed how every other guy on the roster these days is either completely bonkers, or at least in the process of getting there. I'll admit, I noticed the trend myself... and I knew it would only be a number of time before somebody asked what I thought of all the insanity running rampant through this federation like it was a g*ddamn strain of flu.
So I kindly explained to the kid, after I spinning heel kicked him through a storefront window, that it actually doesn't annoy me at all. In fact, I welcome it.
(He grins so fiercely that a Christian mother would feel compelled to cover her childrens' eyes.)
Rezin
I say, let the inmates take over the asylum. Let the Bossman distract himself while he weedles them out one after another, desperately trying to show his people that he's still the man in control. The immaculate order of his Empire is descending into chaos, and I absolutely love seeing it all slip away.
Sure, without looking as retarded as the next guy saying it, I can't exactly brag about being the craziest, sickest, motherf*ckingest son of a b*tch in EPW -- though that bitter reality should already go without saying. Still, it only serves to support my cause for sowing the seeds of dischord and the coming destruction of a professional wrestling Empire.
I keep leaving a trail of waste and woe in my ever-dreadful wake, but thanks to all the other idiots, attention whores, and posers in that locker room getting all the heat, nobody has yet to do anything about it. As long as I'm at the bottom of Dan Ryan's list of priorities, I'm absolutely FREE to wreak havoc on all of EPW without fear of consequence.
Because while the Bossman wastes his time and effort to chase the fat and noisy rats out of his pristine and immaculate home, he forgets that there are other pests abound that pose even greater dangers...
(He points up to the floorboards over his head, where an elaborate network of spider webbing hangs, exposing to the world at large a hidden graveyard for flies and moths.)
Rezin
In the darkest corners of his house, a venomous black recluse continues to spin a web of doom... waiting for the right moment to strike in the night. Waiting for the perfect time to slip down while the master is asleep, and fill all that he loves with a deadly, resinous poison.
(He takes a heavy rip off his resin bong and sends a cloud up into the webbing, perhaps to share some of the maddening intoxication with his natural equivalents.)
Rezin
Until that moment comes, though, I'm just going to have to bide my time, and begrudgingly go ahead with this sly money-making scheme of his, pitting the crazies against each other and hoping the vermin problem will just solve itself. If he can't beat us, then I suppose the least he could do is profit off of us.
You call it "fate", Mr. Sunshine... but fate is a strange word for what is clearly business-minded booking. I'd call it predestination.
Yes, I'm sure the fans of Empire Pro would have just absolutely LOVED to see you and me ride out this week exchanging one irrational, nonsensical rant after the next. No doubt, it would have been good for a chuckle, and might have even sold an extra Pay Per View buy or two with an interest in seeing what sort of f*cked up sh*t we're going to do to each other in the ring.
For me, though... for the ol' Goat Bastard... it would have just been redundant and pointless. I listen to what you say, Mr. Sunshine, hoping to hear from another perspective. Instead, I just hear the same things I've been telling people for MONTHS being thrown right back into my face. Makes me almost wonder... are you REALLY crazy, or are you just ripping off my style?
Unoriginality aside, there is one thing that does set us apart... and that's this whole idea you have that "you... are... better... than... me..."
(Drawing out the last line in clear mockery of his opponent, Rezin follows up with a seemingly unimpressed shrug.)
Rezin
Better than me, huh? Based on what, exactly? Are you better just because you say so? Is there any actual validity to that claim, Ron?
Or is it Russ? Randy? Rick? Roy? To be honest, you were never in this federation long enough for me to make any kind of effort to remember what your first named used to be. And I guess that's the whole point I'm trying to make... you can't just claim to be "better than" the next guy when you've wrestled fewer matches in Empire Pro than I can count on one hand.
You don't have any PROOF that you're better than me, Sunshine... and to be frank, coming out and saying something that stupid so brazenly doesn't get my blood boiling like you'd hope. It doesn't even amuse me anymore. At this point, I can only pity you for your narrowmindedness.
Besides that, being "better" doesn't guarantee anything. Hell, there would be many who would say that Cameron Cruise, with his scientific wrestling knowledge, and Copycat, with his cunning genius, are by all accounts "better" wrestlers than myself. But it didn't help them, in the end. I could very well be the undisputed WORST on the Empire Pro roster, yet that doesn't stop me from getting results.
And have you even bothered to take note of those results, Sunshine? Let's recap... a broken knee... a burned beard... and a shattered ego. But these things didn't happen because I'm better than anyone... they happened because my past opponents underestimated the extent of my destructive abilities.
Much like you're underestimating me now, Sunshine, by thinking you can succeed where every one of your predecessors failed based solely on your confidence in your madness. Unlike you, when I say I'm crazy, people BELIEVE ME because they can look at the things I've done. All you can do is sit there, make hollow threats, and say, "just you wait... you'll see... you'll ALL SEE!!"
But I kinda doubt we'll be seeing anything... and you know why?
(He shakes his head, and a moment later rises out of the chair and slowly creeps up on the camera.)
Rezin
Because for me, Sunshine, this isn't a contest to prove who's crazier or who's better. Clearly, winning isn't a priority, since it seems losing provides greater rewards. See Copycat...
I don't have dreams or aspirations of greatness, or anything like that. There are no invisible "goals" for you to prevent me from reaching. I simply act upon whatever natural impulses enter my mind, and those impulses happen to be to destroy and ruin everything around me. It's the path the Cosmos has set before me... like a deep-space meteor on a collision course, obliterating everything in its path.
There's no reason to measure dicks here, Sunshine... because win or lose, you CAN'T make me fail. Erik Black is ALREADY a failure at life, thanks to that moron Dopesmoker. And yet, despite his losses, he keeps trudging on... moonsaulting mofoz left and right without remorse.
(His diabolical face now fills the entire camera, and he rips his shades off to match a terrifying grin with glazed, reddened eyes.)
Rezin
And that's just what I'm going to do when we meet in the ring. There's nothing for me to gain... there's nothing for me to prove... I'm simply compelled to do this, and I won't be stopped by anyone or anything. I'm not going to try and deny that my inner darkness is a force of evil and malice by calling it "sunshine"... I'm going to EMBRACE that darkness, and spread it wherever I can!
You think YOU are crazy, Franklin? You haven't SEEN crazy until you've lived your life in the muck and the shadows!
At Russian Roulette, the sunny side of your mind is going to be faced with an absolute solar eclipse. I'm going to bring you down to my level of reality, and we'll see how long you last then.
(Rezin reaches up and flips off the camera, causing it to immediately cut to black.)
Rob Franklin
League Member
- Joined
- Aug 15, 2011
- Messages
- 5
- Points
- 0
Re: My Moonsault Eclipses Your Sunshine
We abruptly fade in to see Mr. Sunshine, eyes closed, with earbuds in his his ears. The rocking turbulence, swaying the viewer back and forth, tells us that we're on an airplane. First class, apparently. Suddenly, we hear a buzzing sound. Sunshine awakens from his slumber, and checks his phone. As he clears the dreams away from his eyes, he smiles. After looking at the screen at his smartphone for a moment, we hear him chuckle intermittently.
"Well, hell."
After a few more moments of staring, Sunshine suddenly leaps up from his seat, saunters to the back of the First Class section, and grabs the PA walkie from the wall.
**TESTING, TESTING.**
Faint rustling is heard, as the people on the flight are rudely awakened.
**For those of you not in the know, my name is Sunshine. It's...it's like an ironic thing, you know? Anyways, I have some business to attend to, and since I can see by their delayed response, that the flight attendants are too afraid to stop me, I'm going to take care of a little business at the expense of your collective sleep. Could I cut a promo without this thing? Probably, but hey, I was just thinking "what would Rezin do?"**
**OH? You don't know who Rezin is? Me either! Apparently, it's someone who I'm copying!**
**But the reality - something that Rezin likes to think he knows a lot about - is, that me and Rezin are nothing alike. And really, it's my fault for assuming that we were. You see Rezin, as supposedly "crazy" as I am, I've never ignored the challenge staring me right in the face. Rezin, you are someone who has complete control of yourself. I'm not afraid of you, you're not a threat to me. You're nothing but a weak, insecure little prick with a double-digit IQ who wants people to think he's "complicated."**
**You're not. You're nothing, really. You took the setting of my first promo, and you one-upped me. Fine. You see, I don't have the luxury of doing that, because I'm on a plane, on my way to the pay per view. I mean, is that how you're training? sitting in a room yelling at nobody?**
**Who are you trying to convince?**
**Listen to me, Rezin. Yes, I'm better than you, and I know that may be a hard pill to swallow, but it's true. And what, exactly, am I basing that on? Well, for starters, I'm going to beat you.**
**Not because I have to, but because I CAN. And believe me when I tell you that I don't give a sh*t if you don't know my government name, or if you think I'm a poser.**
**Throw around those meaningless buzz words while you can. I only deal in truths, REzin, and the truth is, I was born better than you.**
**And that's what's been....well...it's been driving me a little....crazy. You see, people like me, we don't deserve to have to wallow with lowlifes like you. Believe me, if I'm infringing on your 'gimmick,' I'm really sorry. I've never woken up and wanted to be a worthless stepping stone in my own path.**
**Speaking of...waking up, do you think you're clever? You thought you were gonna sneak that one by me? I have my phone tracking every silly move you make, Rezin. You're not going to get the last word, not against me. You're not an opponent to me, you're prey. And I'm glad you're putting up a fight, because I'd hate to wrestle another lifeless ragdoll like I did in my debut.**
**You're a man of action, Rezin, I'll give you that. But those actions are hollow, little gimmicky gun tricks? spooky cobwebs in dark rooms? Are you RL Stine?**
**MY threats aren't hollow, Rezin. I'm far from harmless. I could take this WHOLE PLANE DOWN IF I FELT LIKE IT.
The plane is launched into a panic, bringing the passengers into a dull roar.
**I DON'T! I'm just making a point, people. Lighten up. But anyway, Rezin, I'm rambling a little bit, and it's time to bring it home. I'm better than you because I'm going to beat you, I'm better than you because my intentions are pure. I'm fighting you because I want you to feel some sort of pain. You're fighting for a myriad of reasons, most of which have little to do with yours truly. **
**You don't know me, so let me educate you. I was born Rob Franklin. I was born by millionaire parents, and trained in the nicest wrestling facility money could buy. Me, and my....brother....**
**I was never what you would deem a success, much to my surprise. I mean, I was the most talented, most intelligent guy on the planet, and I always came up short.**
**I don't come up short anymore, Rezin. I...can't. You don't understand. If I lose, if I fail...I JUST CAN'T LOSE.**
**So please, bring me down to your level, Rezin, I can't wait. You want to see me unhinged? Maybe you're the breakthrough I've been looking for! Maybe my true sunshine will shine through after I end your career at Russian Roulette! I'm going to sleep, and dream of lollipops and rainbows, and Rezin's brain matter splattered on the mat, because my therapist keeps telling me to 'visualize.'**
**And, to the people of this aircraft, I offer you my apologies. Actually, I don't. None of you are first class. Why do you think you're better than coach? All of those scumbags are no worse than all of you scumbags. I hope none of you sleep tonight, and a small part of me hopes this entire plane goes down in a fiery ball of death and kills us all. Good night.**
Fade to black.
We abruptly fade in to see Mr. Sunshine, eyes closed, with earbuds in his his ears. The rocking turbulence, swaying the viewer back and forth, tells us that we're on an airplane. First class, apparently. Suddenly, we hear a buzzing sound. Sunshine awakens from his slumber, and checks his phone. As he clears the dreams away from his eyes, he smiles. After looking at the screen at his smartphone for a moment, we hear him chuckle intermittently.
"Well, hell."
After a few more moments of staring, Sunshine suddenly leaps up from his seat, saunters to the back of the First Class section, and grabs the PA walkie from the wall.
**TESTING, TESTING.**
Faint rustling is heard, as the people on the flight are rudely awakened.
**For those of you not in the know, my name is Sunshine. It's...it's like an ironic thing, you know? Anyways, I have some business to attend to, and since I can see by their delayed response, that the flight attendants are too afraid to stop me, I'm going to take care of a little business at the expense of your collective sleep. Could I cut a promo without this thing? Probably, but hey, I was just thinking "what would Rezin do?"**
**OH? You don't know who Rezin is? Me either! Apparently, it's someone who I'm copying!**
**But the reality - something that Rezin likes to think he knows a lot about - is, that me and Rezin are nothing alike. And really, it's my fault for assuming that we were. You see Rezin, as supposedly "crazy" as I am, I've never ignored the challenge staring me right in the face. Rezin, you are someone who has complete control of yourself. I'm not afraid of you, you're not a threat to me. You're nothing but a weak, insecure little prick with a double-digit IQ who wants people to think he's "complicated."**
**You're not. You're nothing, really. You took the setting of my first promo, and you one-upped me. Fine. You see, I don't have the luxury of doing that, because I'm on a plane, on my way to the pay per view. I mean, is that how you're training? sitting in a room yelling at nobody?**
**Who are you trying to convince?**
**Listen to me, Rezin. Yes, I'm better than you, and I know that may be a hard pill to swallow, but it's true. And what, exactly, am I basing that on? Well, for starters, I'm going to beat you.**
**Not because I have to, but because I CAN. And believe me when I tell you that I don't give a sh*t if you don't know my government name, or if you think I'm a poser.**
**Throw around those meaningless buzz words while you can. I only deal in truths, REzin, and the truth is, I was born better than you.**
**And that's what's been....well...it's been driving me a little....crazy. You see, people like me, we don't deserve to have to wallow with lowlifes like you. Believe me, if I'm infringing on your 'gimmick,' I'm really sorry. I've never woken up and wanted to be a worthless stepping stone in my own path.**
**Speaking of...waking up, do you think you're clever? You thought you were gonna sneak that one by me? I have my phone tracking every silly move you make, Rezin. You're not going to get the last word, not against me. You're not an opponent to me, you're prey. And I'm glad you're putting up a fight, because I'd hate to wrestle another lifeless ragdoll like I did in my debut.**
**You're a man of action, Rezin, I'll give you that. But those actions are hollow, little gimmicky gun tricks? spooky cobwebs in dark rooms? Are you RL Stine?**
**MY threats aren't hollow, Rezin. I'm far from harmless. I could take this WHOLE PLANE DOWN IF I FELT LIKE IT.
The plane is launched into a panic, bringing the passengers into a dull roar.
**I DON'T! I'm just making a point, people. Lighten up. But anyway, Rezin, I'm rambling a little bit, and it's time to bring it home. I'm better than you because I'm going to beat you, I'm better than you because my intentions are pure. I'm fighting you because I want you to feel some sort of pain. You're fighting for a myriad of reasons, most of which have little to do with yours truly. **
**You don't know me, so let me educate you. I was born Rob Franklin. I was born by millionaire parents, and trained in the nicest wrestling facility money could buy. Me, and my....brother....**
**I was never what you would deem a success, much to my surprise. I mean, I was the most talented, most intelligent guy on the planet, and I always came up short.**
**I don't come up short anymore, Rezin. I...can't. You don't understand. If I lose, if I fail...I JUST CAN'T LOSE.**
**So please, bring me down to your level, Rezin, I can't wait. You want to see me unhinged? Maybe you're the breakthrough I've been looking for! Maybe my true sunshine will shine through after I end your career at Russian Roulette! I'm going to sleep, and dream of lollipops and rainbows, and Rezin's brain matter splattered on the mat, because my therapist keeps telling me to 'visualize.'**
**And, to the people of this aircraft, I offer you my apologies. Actually, I don't. None of you are first class. Why do you think you're better than coach? All of those scumbags are no worse than all of you scumbags. I hope none of you sleep tonight, and a small part of me hopes this entire plane goes down in a fiery ball of death and kills us all. Good night.**
Fade to black.