You can take your own guesses on what kind it is. I won't say what, but, based on my opponent for the Team Semi - Final, I can neither confirm nor deny any of the rumors.
Behind the smoke is a replica of the NFW Season II Ultratitle trophy. It's exactly identical in every way; save one. It has the tiny chip on the inside that Craig Miles was hoping nobody would notice. It has Nova's name on the plate on the front, and it glittered in the afternoon sun.
Exactly like the real trophy in every way, except it's not gold, it's finely molded plastic.
Unless the real trophy isn't really gold. I wouldn't know, can you enlighten me?)
"I'm alternately happy and sad for my next opponent, Nova. I followed his entire run in New Frontier Wrestling, with the exception of the actual night that he won the NFW World Title, I saw every single match he wrestled; at least half of them live in person, and I know he's one of the most talented wrestlers in the world."
"On one hand, I'm happy for you, Nova. You entered the 2009 Team Invitiational Tournament for the same reasons I did, I imagine - to see how you match up against the absolute best in the world. And while I've been fighting tooth and nail to get to this point, you've had a fairly greased path to the Semi - Finals."
That's really not fair. You didn't ask for a cakewalk. I suppose I can't blame your opponents thus far for turning tail and running.
When the chips are down, Nova - that's when you see which of your opponents are worth your time, and which of them are cowards.
"On the other hand, I feel kind of bad. You see, I remember the night you won the NFW World Championship, and you said 'This took forever'. I know you thrive on the competition... but your first real competition in the Tournament this year is, unfortunately, me."
"I'm not arrogant enough to say that I'm the next logical step from the wrestling revolution that you helped start, but I'm also not falsely modest enough to disregard the flow. You won the Ultratitle. You won the NFW World Championship. You lost the title, and were subsequently removed from the company in questionable fashion by Craig and Dennis."
Oh yeah, I said it. What?
"I nearly won the Plumber Invitational, nearly won the Grand Prix, and won the Sears Tower match to become NFW Television Champion, which is the same path Joe took on his way to defeating you for the big green belt."
"This match, here in TEAM, far away from Craig and Dennis and plumbers and title belts, is simply the way things should have, could have progressed with subtlely different circumstances."
I don't really care, though - the fact that I'm stepping into the ring against the King of Hallucination Nation in any capacity is enough for me.
"So, I'm sorry to say, Nova - you have to actually work now. I don't intend to roll over and let you waltz into the finals like your opponents have done so far, and I don't expect you to do anything different than give me the matchup of my life, like my opponents have done so far."
Don't sweat the smoke, though. I've gotcha covered.
You vs. my slightly pathetic revenge mission against the world.
(FADEIN: NOVA. Forearms folded across his knees. Lit cigarette. He pantomimes answering a phone call.)
NOVA: “Hello? What? You mean at some point I’ve got to actually work at this thing before they just hand over the Merritt Trophy for me to melt down into my new golden toilet seat?”
(He looks up into the camera.)
NOVA: “Well this should be a welcome change. Instead of Mateo, Mason, and Wells, I have someone who I’m not convinced is a complete hack with zero drive to win this thing. Hi, Impulse.
“You say you have mixed feelings about me, huh? Happy and sad and all that? Well I have some mixed feelings about you as well, kiddo. See, with that gaggle of schmucks I just listed off, I couldn’t give two sh*ts if they plowed their hybrids into a concrete piling on their way out of the arena. I told them to phone in their bids for this tournament if they valued the remaining balance of their careers…and they listened to me, each performance feeling slightly more pathetic than the one that came before it.
“But you, sir…that’s not you, is it? Nah. You’re a good kid with a bright future. A talented wrestler. I’ve always thought so, since you debuted in the Frontier and took a few licks before getting your head on straight.
“By now you must have some degree of understanding, however remote, about my motivations in this tournament, Impulse. You’ve probably heard my threats to my previous opponents, the feverish declarations of my intent to humiliate and tarnish this company after management’s AAA-effort – the only AAA thing about this place, believe me – to F*CK me out of what was mine to hold. Mine to defend.
“And none of that changes because your name is on the other side of my semi-finals booking. Not a lick. What DOES change, young Impulse, is my certainty that my desire to take a sh*t on the Merritt Trophy, Jess Chapel, and these automaton fans outweighs your desire to flash your bona fides to all of Wrestling Creation. At the beginning of this thing, I figured no way. No way could ANYONE’s resolve to win this thing be more powerful than the anger, the hate, the RAGE in my heart over what had happened to me.
“Then I saw DC Stark. Ravager. Rocko Daymon.
“You did it, kid. You did it like it hadn’t been done in a while. And you showed everyone what it looks like in real-time when someone treats every match like it’s their last.
(The former Champion of Champions flicks his cigarette away.)
NOVA: “But I’m still me, and there are still a few things you won’t do. Desire is big, it’s crucial…but will you do WHATEVER IT TAKES to put your name on that trophy? What’s the limit, Impulse? Do ya just go out there and give it your best red-meat all-American try like Dear Old Dad would want…or will you break my hand with the heel of your boot when the ref isn’t watching?
“Because I will take that step. Whatever it takes, while I’m awake, while I’m breathing. It’s not personal, man. I hope you don’t take it that way. But this is all I have. My slightly pathetic revenge mission against the world is the only thing I’ve got left. You have your family, your friends, your LIFE, Impulse. Wrestling is maybe the biggest thing, but it AIN’T the only thing, and you’ve said as much yourself.
“But I don’t have any of that anymore. I put all my eggs in one basket, only to have the people who control that basket tell me I can take my eggs and SHOVE THEM UP MY ASS.
“Think about what that could do to a man. And then you think about whether your desire to prove yourself as a Main Event Player is stronger than that. Maybe it is.
(FADE TO BLACK.)
NOVA (V/O): “Maybe it ain’t.”
How does one fade in on a sound? Just go with me on this. The CD release party for the new OTEP album trumps sleep, which takes a toll on the voice.
I've also got a collection of drawings that Nova made during the second season of the Ultratitle. Very entertaining.
And three... two... one...)
"First thing's first, Nova... please don't mention Dear Old Dad."
"Now that that's out of the way, we can look at the main difference between us. This is a wrestling match in a wrestling tournament. We're going to determine who goes to the finals by wrestling."
"Will I be able to overcome your rage and anger at the way you've been treated by TEAM so far, in order to take my place in the finals?"
Because I can.
"Will I stomp your hand to break it to move forward?"
Because I don't have to.
"I sympathize, Nova - nobody should ever lose a championship anywhere but the ring. If this was a typical wrestling promotion I would have been right behind you arguing the point and fighting for what's right."
"Until you took a negative and fed it, nurtured it, and allowed it to turn into bitterness. Until you took a negative and, while I appreciate the fact that you're entered into the Team Invitiational to prove how wrong they were, the fact that you want to win the Tournament to destroy the company."
"This tournament in general, and me in particular - have nothing to do with the way you were treated. I'm just your next opponent, Nova."
"I didn't take your title away from you."
"Ryan didn't take your title away from you. Dr. Silver didn't take your title away from you."
But if you decide to take out your frustrations on me anyways, you should know I'm going to handle you in kind.
"So what happens now, Nova? You've finally got an opponent that's gonna fight you, and much to your chagrin, it's an opponent who doesn't fit the mold for the kind of dump you were looking to take on Jess Chapel and the Merritt Trophy."
"I know you were hoping for another Ace Mason, or another Jared Wells - someone you could point to as a symbol of the decay that TEAM has allowed to fester - decay that took a championship belt away from a capable and worthy holder."
"I'm not that guy, Nova."
"And, I hate to be the one to stop this rollicking tale of revenge and mayhem, Nova... but the purpose of this creative insurgency called Impulse has always been one of provocation: taking the idea of wrestling as a pure art form and seeing how far I could take it. Do we go forward, or do we go backward?"
I suppose we'll see, when we step into the ring.
"My desire to prove myself as a player in the sport of professional wrestling has nothing to do with your tour of revenge or my own career. I have no desire to prove myself as anything: my own skills have spoken for themselves, and I'm going to rise as high as those skills will allow me."
And I wager that they'd rise me higher than you, at a P-Funk gig in the mid 70s.
"The crux of the matter, Nova, is not that you want to destroy TEAM and that I want to elevate it, but that an irresistable force is about to collide head-on with an immovable object."
"Cliche? Sure. But you've been hit with a trio of acorns so far, are you sure you're ready for this kind of cannonball?"
"Hatred is, by definition, a limiting factor, Nova. You can't see past hatred. You can't see past the defined boundaries of your own rage."
"On the other hand, I wrestle without boundaries, and without definition. The only limit to what I can accomplish is the fact that I don't try to hurt my opponents; what I do is wrestle."
<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment" smilieid="3" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment" smilieid="3" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype>(FADEIN: NOVA, seated on a park bench, dressed in a black tank-top and jeans. He’s clutching a mostly-empty fifth of pure grain, and smoking a cigarette.)
(He looks up into the camera and grins before taking a drag.)
NOVA: “…you’re exactly what I hoped for.”
(The EAGLEstar takes a swig from the bottle.)
NOVA: “Let there be no doubt…if you can stop me, then do it. Sh*t…this is the only REAL high I have left, Impulse. This…¡MOTA!...”
(He pulls out a stout bag of reefer from his pants pocket, an admirable feat given that his jeans are a little tight.)
(He tosses the bag into the bushes. A vagrant screeches with delight.)
NOVA: “The sauce?”
(He smirks, taking one last swig from the fifth before inverting it and pouring the remainder out onto the grass.)
NOVA: “Whoopedy. F*cking. Doo.
“What’s even…” (hic) “…the point? The uncertainty of the outcome of this match is basically the only thing ticklin’ my balls these days. And when it’s over, it’s OVER. There’s no Monday morning after Sunday night for me. Not anywhere around here, anyway.
“TEAM? Pfft. If I have my way, there’ll be a restraining order on me the day after SuperShow XI.
“NFW? Two words. F*CK ‘EM.
“This is one ‘a thems, um, ‘win-win’ situations, I guess you could say. I either accomplish the most epic feat in TEAM history by winning the Invitational Tournament and completing the company’s Triple Crown, and derive intensely juvenile pleasure from sh*tting all over the beautiful moment…or you take me down, Impulse, and end this petty quest, my only anchor to this wrestling reality.”
(NOVA takes another drag. Probably wishing he hadn’t poured out the rest of the booze.)
NOVA: “Send me floating away. Either way, I’m sure I’ll be entertained. Like a madman charging into battle. Victory or death.
“Or maaaaaybe…that could be me attempting to inject a little poetic license and issue-framing into this. Maybe that’ll be the way I tell it when I’m drunk in a random bar with some skirt trying to squeeze a few extra shots of Patron out of me…no defeat…no bitterness…no sour taste…only triumph.
“But that’s not really the case, is it? I can’t let go of this sh*t. I can’t shelve this…this f*cking urgent rage or whatever it is…and go out there slapping fives and playing the damn game.” (Drag of the smoke) “Nope…no being the bigger man on this one.
“You ever know someone in a nursing home, Impulse, family or something, someone in a strange place at the end of their life with nothing left that matters besides the deteriorating condition of their body and mind? You know what they do, what their lives become? They become their problems.
“I had a great-uncle when I kid who was in a nursing home in <st1><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Mississippi</st1:state></st1>. I grew up in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Canton</st1></st1:city>. I would go see him, and he’d be sitting in his room, hands folded over his lap, BIG f*ckin’ scowl on his face. His wife dead for years. Only son killed in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1>Vietnam</st1></st1:country-region>. No friends or neighbors who could tolerate his ass. Nothing in the room to suggest there had been a life before daily pill rounds and medical charts.
“And all he had to talk about was his inflamed knee. Or the trace of urine in his blood. Or the dizzy spells. You couldn’t change the topic on this guy with a f*cking megaphone. Couldn’t faze him, it was robotic almost. And ironic, in a way…he wasted the final days of his life trying to count all the different things killing him.”
(NOVA stares into the camera.)
NOVA: “I feel like I’m that old man, Impulse. Sitting in the corner. Alone with my arthritis and f*ckin’ diabetes. Talking to myself about how my stool was darker and more robust last week.
“All I have anymore are my f*cking problems. Who done me dirty...the only meaning for me. I can’t just go on anymore. You enjoy that. I went on for a long time.
(He takes a last drag of his cigarette and flicks it away.)
NOVA: “But now…it’s like not only am I out of gas, but I have no directions anymore, and if I stop the car for a minute, it starts to smell awful. My LIFE…starts to smell awful.”
(Looking away) “So it’s time to set the motherf*cker on fire and walk away.
“Time to finish this thing, and kill it.”
It's sparsely populated, with a queen sized bed, a computer table with a computer and sound system set up, and a dresser and a few tables slash nightstands.
I'm not going to show you the backside of the computer table, because it would be an incoherent jumble of wires.
It's like the tapestry of our lives. When you look at any of us from the right angle, we've got everything together and we're smooth sons'a guns - but from another angle, we're nothing but a hot steaming mess.
And three... two... one...)
"I see it now, Nova. I can tell what the problem is."
"You're not a hateful guy."
"You don't want to destroy a wrestling company. You may have problems with the way TEAM has been run so far - and if you're telling a completely unbiased tale I have to say I agree with you - but you don't want TEAM to fold."
"Simply put, you would never do that to any of the boys. As much as you might want to see TEAM collapse, you know that to do so would be to rob those that remain of some hard earned cash, and one of the first things I learned when I became a wrestler --"
At least, when I had paid enough dues that I felt I could call myself a wrestler without alienating a portion of the locker room...
"--was that you never, ever, ever screw one of the boys out of a paycheck."
So I know you're at least partially bluffing.
"You want to be stopped, Nova. You want someone to end your quest of revenge. For three rounds now you've been disappointed by the lackluster groupies masquerading as wrestlers that you were hoping would change your mind - and now you're in the Final Four against the only real challenge to cross your plate in a long, long, long time."
It's like someone who charges a police cruiser with an empty gun. Suicide By Cop.
"At this point, Nova, it really is win-win. For everyone involved. You win, you get to be in the finals of yet another tournament, and you get to complete your triple crown. You lose, and you're still Final Four, you're still one of the best wrestlers to ever compete, and you're losing to greatest rising star of 2009."
Modesty be damned. If I can't be honest about what I've accomplished this year, I'm doing a disservice to everyone around me.
"For me, either I move to the finals of the Tournament or I lose to one of my professional heroes. That's pretty win-win, just the same."
"But I can't feel sorry for you, Nova. Even in the corner, with your inflamed knee and diabetes and damned kids all up on your lawn, I feel no pity for your specific situation or regret for what I'm going to have to do in this match."
"To get to the heart of it, Nova... you're responsible for your own circumstances. You've got diabetes? Watch your diet. You're in a wheelchair? Play basketball, or keep drawing."
"You don't get extra points for giving up just because you're served with a disadvantage. You don't get a handicap because you might have a bit of a rougher road to the promised land."
There's no such thing as a rougher road, Nova. We've all got a unique path, and who's to say who got it better?
"I'm sorry that you have no direction and no current goals, Nova - but that's not my fault, and I'm in no position to help you achieve them."
"I'm just a wrestler, Nova - I'm not a fortune teller. I can't give you direction."
More to the point, a still shot of me, masked, holding onto the NFW Television Championship for dear life, just as Brock Alyas lifted me above his head with intent to drop me right back down on my own.
I can't believe I'm opening with this, I'm sorry, Nova...)
"The true definition of what this match is about, beyond the prestige of the Team Invitational Tournament, Nova - is real simple."
"I'm the future of the professional wrestling business."
Ugh. Someone should shove me in a sack and beat me with a stick for using that ridiculous cliche, but I couldn't think of any other way to say what I mean to say.
"To wit, I am what most have referred to as one of the brightest newcomers to professional wrestling of the past two years or so. Most of the people who talk about such things believe that in another few years, I'll be at the forefront of this sport, and that I'll be one of the elite few who set the tone for the entire industry."
"Are they right? Who the heck knows. I've certainly noticed a subtle shift in the fans over the past few months - instead of popping for big moves only, they've started applauding clever holds and unorthodox reversals. I like that; it means they care about what I'm doing - which will translate into a new appreciation for the art of this sport."
I never thought I'd be talking about myself like this - all I'm doing is wrestling the best I can, my way. If that gets a reaction, then I'm doing my job.
"So, what does that make you, Nova? The past of professional wrestling?"
Heavens, no. I may be a cliche spewing idiot today, but I'd never go that far.
"What you are, Nova, is the present of professional wrestling. A capable athlete whose bread and butter is the incredibly entertaining way in which you can verbally dismantle your opponents, and your artistic endeavors that can humiliate and demoralize those same opponents that may be typically out of your physical range. What you are is a wrestler with several years remaining of main event level power, and every mean at your disposal to make the most of it."
Thus, my long, meandering point finally arrives.
"One of us will move to the finals of the Team Invitational Tournament, for our own reasons and purpose, and one of us will go home, Nova. This has additional stakes, however... that most probably wouldn't have thought about."
"One of my mentors, a multi - time World Champion that I'm sure you're familiar with - always said that he never cared if any of the young hotshots who came up behind him took his spot - but they had to take it."
"None of them ever could."
Except you, once, several years ago.
"'So, that's where we stand. We're going to wrestle - the present of the sport against the future of the sport, and I'm going to try to take your spot."
So to speak.
"I can beat you, Nova, and I can beat you clean and soundly. You can also beat me. And either I'll take your spot or I won't, and will have to wait for my next shot."
"That's the difference, it seems. Everyone else in this tournament - yourself included - has been treating the 2009 Team Invitational like it's the end-all be- all, the culmination of everything that their careers have been moving towards."
If you get the better of me, Nova, I'll just wait until next year.
"The Dodgers, after all, eventually beat the Yankees. And I guess this is the moment that we find out if it's 1954 or 1955."
(FADEIN: NOVA, shirtless and clad in cloth pants spattered in various hues of paints, bathed in the glow of spotlights situated above the wrestling ring in which he stands.)
NOVA: (Grinning) “I could only think of one way to trump THAT many clichés, Impulse…and you know me. Lazy ReeFERHEAd ‘n all. Just sat my ass down in the middle of the ring and let the scenery cheese it up better than you channeling your very best ‘Chariots of Fire’ routine.
(Taking a drag of his smoke) “You know I’ve been looking forward to this psychoanalysis since I saw you with DC Stark on the couch bawling his eyes out about Daddy never loved him…and you haven’t disappointed, Dr. Knox. You raise some…” (Resting his chin on his fist) “…interesting issues.”
(NOVA reaches out a hand and grips the top ring rope.)
NOVA: “I don’t want to destroy TEAM, Impulse. I may have said that at some point, but…” (wincing) “…sometimes I do this thing where I drink a boatload of booze and then talk out of that place where Doc Silver’s middle school wrestling coach diddled him after the team’s two-point loss to those uptown rich kids.” (Whispering) “The asshole.”
“But no. That is not my intention. I intend only to inflict severe pain on the organization.
“And its management.
“And honestly the fans, too.
“And the travelling custodial staff, they’re never polite and they get paid fine.”
(He leans back against the ropes, taking another drag.)
NOVA: “I could honestly give a sh*t about the wrestlers. DA BOYZ. They’re big boys, and if anyone has sour grapes after I chip cute little divets all over the base and stem of the Merritt Trophy, they can put a note card in the employee suggestion box requesting that I not be asked back for Turd Bowl XXVI: Revenge of Heatless Mash-Ups…and you know what? I’ll probably be happy to oblige that.
“That’s what I have, Impulse. This mission. The only thing keeping me here, and right now I need something to keep me here because…I can’t walk away quietly.” (Looking up into the lights) “Big shock, right, after years under spotlights like these with people screaming your name, that I would want a little fanfare before I go? Bit of an attention-whore, maybe?”
(He looks back into the camera, puffing the cigarette a few times and tossing it.)
NOVA: “I don’t do quiet very well. I don’t do middle-of-the-road. S’why I probably can’t go back to PRIME anymore and be a perennial rodeo clown. And it’s why I can’t just take all my regret and anger and turn around and walk away. It’s why I need this ONE thing in my life to propel me forward…
“…and I know what you might be thinking: ‘Hey brah, life is totally, like, what you make it! If you want a woman, go to the bar! If you wanna be the best, hit the gym, dude!’”
(The EAGLEstar’s eyes somehow soften and harden at the same time. For real.)
NOVA: “But you get a dead wife and kid under the belt – ya know, some kinda notch, whatever - and simple things just start seeming more and more difficult. When you forsake everything else to spend your life staring at a painting, after a while there’s no convincing yourself you can straighten it out and get that angle just right…”
(He walks over to the ropes and leans against them on his forearms.)
NOVA: “Don’t worry, I WILL find peace, my friend. One way or another I will, and I get the feeling that search is going to take me far, far away…”
(NOVA walks back from the ropes into the center of the ring, holding out his arms.)
NOVA: “…from here. You want SO BADLY to be the future of this business, Impulse. I’m not sure anymore that this business has a future that I want to be a part of.” (Laughing) “Not that the present…”
(He lights another smoke) “…is particularly f*ckin’ glamorous or anything.
“I don’t think this tournament is the be-all end-all culmination of whatever, kid. It’s just ONE ending. And I can’t have a new beginning…without an ending to all of this…this f*ckin’ sh*t.”
(NOVA’s face turns dark, and his cigarette bends in his gritted teeth.)
NOVA: “If it’s my way, I…” (Pointing away) “…make them pay in a big way for taking my strap and treating me like a f*cking disposable diaper, just like the last assholes I worked for managed to do.”
(Suddenly he lightens up, smiling amiably at the camera and plucking the cig from his mouth.)
NOVA: “If it’s your way, then go make Eli or whoever proud and win yourself what will surely be the first of many big shiny things they let you keep in your living room and have sex up against for a year.
“Just use protection.”
(FADEIN: on a wrestling ring, surrounded by people setting it up, and me, standing in the middle, looking like a madman.
No, I'm kidding. I'm sitting in a lounge chair in the Caribbean somewhere sipping a drink out of a coconut with a woman in a barely - there bikini laid out on the sand next to me, waiting for me to finish, so I can have my way with her.
That's not it, either.
It's an old, dirty, dusty turnbuckle pad.
I guess we've officially run out of cliches, hey, Nova?
And on me in three... two... one...)
"Sorry it took so long, Nova... but for the longest time I simply couldn't figure you out. I'm glad I didn't disappoint, however - and that you got your psychological evaluation and all, but it doesn't change a thing."
"How is your mission as you stated any different from your mission as I stated?"
I don't want to kill this man, I just shot him in the shoulder, both wrists, and the kneecap. But I don't want him to die.
"One follows the other follows the next, Nova... and regardless of your intentions, I'm forced to say your road is pretty well paved."
"I'm just not sure what direction through this match you're going to take."
I hope DC Stark is still paying attention. Never disrespect your opponent's ability, sir. But, that's why you are where you are and I'm here.
"Nova, I appreciate and even agree with your all - or - nothing opinion of the world. Things would be so much better if people committed to yes, we can or no, we can't on anything and everything. It's the people constantly saying and acting out well, maybe... that bungle things for the rest of us."
"I just don't know that your current definitions for the two are really the way to go."
"So, if I get what you're doing, Nova, you've decided that your course of action will be to either win the Team Invitational and cause everyone involved as much pain as you can muster, or lose to me and walk away with your bong between your legs?"
Ew. I have to apologize for that. But you get my point.
I hope, at least.
"Regardless, Nova, I can guarantee that you won't be going out sitting on your corner stool. You're not Joe Frazier and I'm certainly not Ali."
With your history and your accomplishments, though, Nova... you could certainly by Mike Tyson to my Little Mac. And much respect if you understood that.
"I won't say that life is what you make of it, Nova. I won't say that you need to take your situation and accentuate the positive."
That's also cliche. Plus, you know what I think already.
"And no, I have no idea what it is to lose a wife or a child. I have no concept of that kind of mental scar, and I hope I never do. And, repeated, I'm sorry to hear that you do."
"But I promise you, despite all of your uncertainty, and all of your anger toward Team, and the owners, and the custodial staff, and the sport of professional wrestling as a whole, you'll have an ending to your story."
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