ST. LOUIS: Beast vs. Alcaeus

[TH]

Former EPW World Champion vs. the pride of the Atlantic Wrestling Council.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Just when you think you've seen it all...

(FADEIN: Beast at his home in Winnipeg, packing an oversized gear bag. It's partly filled, and we see Beast grab a bottle of Holy Water, check it's contents, and put it into the bag. Beast reaches down and grabs a string of garlic cloves, and he grimaces at the potency of the smell as he puts that into the bag.)

Beast: Sheeeeee-iiiiit... just when you think you've seen it all in this business.

I've been around the block, and I didn't think anything else was going to do it for me. I didn't think anything else could surprise me. I've seen guys that claim to be the right hand of Satan. I've seen Angels in dark robes that can somehow control light and darkness with their minds. I've seen psychotic clowns. I've even seen an ancient Gladiator from Rome - and the bastard was somehow good enough to win a World Heavyweight Championship.

(Beast grabs a large, shiny Crucifix and looks it over before putting it into his bag.)

Beast: But now, I get to do something I never thought possible.

I get to climb into the ring with a 2500 year old vampire.

I suppose this is where I'm supposed to be at a huge disadvantage. For one of the rare times in my career, the guy across the ring is bigger than I am. I'm sure we'll hear something about pain and suffering - the likes of which I've NEVER felt before, getting beaten to within and inch of my life, left for dead, or whatever variation of destruction the big, dumb lummoxes always come up with.

(Beast grabs a six shooter, and opens the chamber. He pulls out one of the rounds and examines it. You guessed it - silver. He puts the round back in the gun and spins the chamber around before placing it in a holder and then into the gear bag.)

Although, if my recollection of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles is correct, at least it'll be eloquent.

Those vampires, ya know.... they love to talk. Wax poetic, even.

I'm sure it'll be entertaining.

(Beast grabs a wooden stake and checks the point of it with his thumb. He pulls his hand back and shakes it, before checking his thumb for signs of a cut, whispers "Damn", and tosses the stake into the bag.)

Beast: But then again, it could all be a steaming pile of horse****.

You see, Alcaeus - if that is your real name - I don't care about your sordid past.

What this is all about, is wrestling - not burying your teeth into someone's neck. I don't care how long you've walked this world, but you've never seen anyone like me before. You've been around the world - both in life, and through several different wrestling federations, but I see no hint of success anywhere you've been.

And that's going to continue, right here in the TEAM Tournament.

(Beast kicks the gear back out of camera view.)

Beast: I don't need that stuff. I don't need to kill you. I just need to knock you down for a three count.

And that, my worldy friend, is something that I'm fantastic at.

See ya, Lestat.

(FADE OUT)

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Stupid board

avadvadvadvadvadvadvadvadvadvadvadv

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Update, Damn Board!

 

[Alcaeu]

These hands before me. They are mine, but in no way are they familiar. It is this unfamiliarity with myself that has haunted my dreams, and my systematic journey through the folds of time...this unconscious unrecognition...that has forced me once more into the open. To reopen the books on the chronicles of the Vampires. To create once again, pleasant fiction in which truths can hide with such clarity, yet obscured from the prying eyes of reason, and the world...​

But then, at the end of the day, are we not all fictional characters? And where better to display my vulgarities of existence than on the scene where fiction is the blessed blanket under which athletes can hide?​

Yes...this has been the right choice.​

But for the chronicles...this is all but a shadow. A light to distract one from the real pursuit...my autobiography if you like. But then, I shall not bore you with such details. That is for another time, and for another place. My desk is littered with the scrolls of my time...but then, this is my time. As is all time...it's mine!​

But there is no trickery of Relativity, emenating from the confused vessels of the mouth of Einstein. No. This ability for the eventualities of time travel exists only in my mind, and therefore has little place in the realms of reality.​

But, alas...perhaps I should not seek to confuse my avid reader, or myself for that matter. For this concoction of a drama and melody of words, can often obscure the truth in decorative nonsense! So...let us begin...​

But begin what? The ramblings of a wrestler? Or the truths of a Vampire? I believe the latter is prudent...even though my opponent may not share my enthusiasm for such.​

Who am I?​

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A few truths about my "kind" may be required for an extensive essay into my being. I don't know...maybe not...but I don't care. This is my rhetoric, and I shall bore you all with whatever I wish. Isn't that the joy of a writer? To assume the ears of his audience are prey to his words? Ah yes...well...our truths.​

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Now, I've read literature through the ages. Some has spelt us out as beings of evil...roaming through the world looking to inflict pain and suffering on those who constitute the "Living". There are the snippets of literature which simply claim us to be mindless zombies, with a lust for blood. But, the very name Vampire exists because of the ignorance. I've never been called this myself, except by very young ones.​

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There are those who remember our roots...but not I. I am far too young for such indescressions. I've heard rumours of beginnings in China. Then some of Egypt. Others still of the jungles of South America. Whatever...we are created from an anomolie. An anomolie of nature. A disease, or Virus perhaps. And our very nature is controlled by this parasite which keeps us moving, thinking...but our body dead for all intensive purposes.​

The truth is...there is no truth. As much as I would love to impart upon my readers some noble truths about the beginnings of our "race", or "culture"...there can be none. Because, I, and those I've met...simply do not know.​

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It is true that our skin has adverse reactions to the sunlight. That we cower in its benevolant gaze. However, this is not a fatal reaction. It is uncomfortable yes, in the same way as it is uncomfortable for a human to be under a cold shower. But this annoyance grows lesser with each passing century...and in truth, for me...it no longer poses much grief at all. I no longer need to wear material over my eyes in order to see properly...no longer need to create protection for myself. All I need, is a protection from the prying eyes of those who would destroy me if the truth came out. Ash and dust do this very well...making a human appearance, when smeared onto the dead flesh.​

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But If I seek to hide from those who would have me hounded, hunted...why do I reveal myself on this stage? Simply...because my hidden being has become too impossible. The modern age, is one of information. That is what I share...information. But I am quite confident that very few will believe my ramblings. And those who do, and come round to the idea...will never be those who are capable to do anything adverse to me. So, in that, it is all good.​

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Crucifixes and garlic...and stakes...and silver...and all this nonsense. Why on earth would I be scared of a crucifix? That would imply I have some adverse reaction to any figure of The Lord. Wouldn't that then mean I would have to cower before every church I pass? Such a rediculous concept. We may not like the crucifix, because of its meaning. It represents the death of an ethereal being for the salvation of humanity...from which we are exiled. Divorced from the eventualities that can befall a mortal.​

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We do not die.​

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We do not live.​

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We linger...​

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Garlic? An unpleasant smell indeed...but what merits would it have to adversely affect us? These enduring myths are the brainchildren of the most unimaginative authors, who capitalize on folk lore, to create something more "readable". Surely...if we must prey on humanity to live...we must be evil. If we are evil...there must be ways normal people can vanquish us. Right? Wrong...​

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I, for one, refuse to pose a threat to the noble...the innocent. We may be dead of body, but of mind...I, speaking for myself, and healthy in every sense. To kill the innocent...that would be a burden impossible to live with. Yes, I have done that...but then I did that also in the ranks of the Appolonian guard, some 2500 years ago. It does not change the fact that I seek to steer clear of guilt. Those who deserve death, will find me a willing provider of a pathway to the next world. But then, now, I do not need to feed on the blood that makes me a vampire. I can go perpetually without it. So, if I do not drink blood...am I still a vampire? Perhaps...but I don't care what name to be brandished with. I am Anacletus Alcaeus, and that's what matters in this saga.​

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As for wooden stakes, and silver...I have little idea where these concepts came from. Why, in god's name (a name that I do not refuse to take in vain...for I know he has no power over me, if in fact, he does exist...and what if he were a she? What a detriment to christianity, to find out its figurehead had a pair of breasts...indeed) would a stick with a sharp end be able to do unto me such damage, where a bullet, or a sword could not?​

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The truth is...my skin is not impenetrable. I can be stabbed, shot...like any other being...but I am already dead...so where would that come in use...except to make me look less...pretty. And even then, I heal as well as any creature on this earth...slightly faster even.​

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My heart does not beat...therefore cannot be silenced.​

Silver...it has no effect. Sometimes, I even like to stare into the glint of silver. The only adverse effects I think I have from the protruding of silver into my circumferent area...is its significance to my life. Shields made of silver...riding on a man's arm into battle...or a King's silver bracelet, as he leapt in, to silence the whimpering of poor innocent warriors...who then were not so poor or innocent. But isn't any warrior innocent by intention? Only burdened by regret, and pain?​

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Not me...I loved it.​

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Even as a mortal...my thirst for blood was outrageous. Perhaps why I was chosen for this least noble of endeavours.​

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But alas...these truths are false. I am yet to find a way that can permanently render me silent. I know not how...but then I've neither had my head cleaved from my body, or my heart cut from my chest...so who knows? I only know that there is no way...besides seperating my limbs...that I can cease to exist. And in that certainty of life...I die over and over. Never will I have my last kiss. My last meal. My last anything...because I will last.​

And so...to the now...and to where we go from here...​

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************************************​

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I am Anacletus Alcaeus. The name, in ancient Greek, means Invoked Strength. A father aptly chosen for me from my father who disowned me at an early year...Leonnidas. My Mother, fair beauty that she was...Kallisto...I have never truly dreamt about, except for one occasion, which I refuse to be lost in on this account.​

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For this monologue is not a repetition of my life. Nor it is a prelude to one. It has nothing to do with the Chronicles of Alcaeus. Those are left to more scholarly times...sitting at my desk, so amiably provided me by the AWC...where I can resite my lies onto paper...and my truths into those lies. For what are memories if not lies? We surely change them on their journey through time. I am sure Hitler's memories were not of him being evil...but rather of him being a hero of nationalism, and of Germany. Such selectiveness of memories, serve to confuse one's Autobiography...but I am through caring. They are my memoirs...and if Winston Churchill was allowed his...then so is Alcaeus!​

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But, to the fore...coming to me now, a match. A fight. A battle...with a man called "Beast". His obvious distain for me, is evident from the words and phrases used in his little serenade with my identity. But, it matters not. I care not for the thoughts of one man, when I have endured the hatred of nations...but that, again, is for another time.​

So, this man...Beast...​

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A troubled fellow perhaps...with a decorated career in the ring. Though I've never heard of the A1E, I am not here to smear its integrity, or to drive respect away from Beast's achievements there. My goal is, simply, to tell my story to the world. But to do that, I must garner the respect of the world. For that to happen...Alcaeus must gain as much exposure as possible. To take down every man and woman in the ring, and leave them helpless to deny me.​

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When I have everyone's attention...that is the time I can really begin my crusade. But for now...I'm afraid I must war with these men and women of wrestling. Beat them at their own game. Snatch from them their pride...and become greatness incarnate.​

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TEAM Wrestling is the first step​

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Then, the AWC Transatlantic Title and Grand Slam Championship.​

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And finally...​

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The world, as it exists in front of a television screen...and all shall know the name of Anacletus Alcaeus.​

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Do my ears still work?

(FADE IN: Once again into Beast's home. We're taken into the A1E and EPW superstar's den. The 52-inch wall-mounted plasma television is tuned to TWN - the Wrestling Network. It's Team Talk, the one hour special devoted to the latest happenings and goings-on in the world of TEAM. The announcer comes on to intro the show.)

TTA: Good afternoon, folks, and it's going to be an, um... interesting.... hour-long version of Team Talk today. Usually on Team Talk, we run the length and breadth of TEAM, discussing new signees, matchups, predictions, reviews, but not today. Today, we are pleased to present to you - in it's entirety - Alcaeus' latest promo. With some creative editing, we didn't have to buy any extra network time to show you this one. Enjoy!

(Beast settles in to watch this potential gem.)

ALCAEUS: ... To create once again, pleasant fiction in which truths...

(Beast's eyes slowly begin to close, but he snaps them open, trying to pay attention.)

ALCAEUS: ... But, alas...perhaps I should not seek to confuse my avid reader...

(Beast's eyes close, and his chin drops to his chest. The motion jars him awake.)

Beast: Or, more hopefully, put your avid reader to sleep.

(Beast continues watching, determined to make it through.)

ALCAEUS: A few truths about my "kind" may be required for an extensive essay into my being...

(That's it. Beast's eyes close, and his head slowly droops to its side, and the former EPW World Heavyweight Champion is out like a light. How long does he sleep for? What seems like hours may only be minutes, what feels like minutes might only actually be seconds. But is it really? It could be more like days... Beast suddenly jolts awake.)

Beast: Damn, I thought I was having a horrendous nightmare about vampires.

ALCAEUS: Crucifixes and garlic...and stakes...and silver...

Beast: Oh ****! That was no dream!

(Beast sits and manages to stay awake for a while longer. He's had enough, and starts to talk over the promo.)

Beast: Listen here, Little Orphan Annie... do you EVER shut up? I mention a few toys - that I believe I stated that I had absolutely no need for, and I get the War and Peace edition of A Vampire's Diatribe. Perhaps if you paid any attention to what I said, you would have realized that and saved us a WHOLE LOT of time - and the TEAM Network money.

Christ, at least I got to sleep through most of it.

ALCAEUS: For this monologue is not a repetition of my life...

Beast: No, it's not. It's the longest, nauseating diatribe I've ever heard - or slept through.

(Beast listens impatiently to the rest of the promo, checking his watch at LEAST 15 times before it's over.)

Beast: Wow, you actually got to the part where you talk about our match this week. Well, sort of. But beggars can't be choosers. For a man of 2500-plus years, you're obviously not very brilliant. Disdain? No, it was more like disbelief.

Before you get to digest and play Sigmund Freud with my feelings, I suggest you get to know me first. Until you opened your mouth, I would never have considered you boring. Until you displayed your obvious lack of brain cells, I wouldn't have called you stupid. I would have simply gotten into the ring and fought you, beat you, and then judged what kind of opponent you were.

But Lestat, you didn't give me much of a choice.

I have simply one question for you.

You're a 2500-plus year old vampire. Shake it, stir it, call it whatever name you want, you're a vampire. You've been in ancient military conflicts. You're pretty much invulnerable, and you're almost invincible. I'm guessing that after 2500 years, unless you got tossed into the sun, there isn't enough light here to kill you.

You're IMMORTAL.

You've had lifetimes upon lifetimes past, and generations more await you in the future.

So, my question is this.

Why, Lestat, when you have all this, could you possibly consider something like a mortal wrestling promotion Championship appealing to you? Why, of all the things you can do, did you choose the TEAM Championship your ultimate goal, when you're capable of so much more?

Christ, talk about aiming low.

But wait - I get it. You want to tell your story.

You want to tell your story? Go write a ****ing book.

It's going to be real sad when a mere mortal like me rips your block off and pins you in front of all these people that you want to respect you.

Talk about your stories. Beast beats the unbeatable.

It'll be one I'll tell for years.

(FADE OUT)

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: Do my ears still work?

Update!!! I Command You!