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| **The scene opens to find Rob Osbourne sitting in his living room in his home within Isleworth, the upscale gated community in west Orange County, Florida. He is watching Sickboy's latest promo from the hospital. As Sickboy's promo ends Osbourne switches off the TV. He thinks in the silence for a moment and then pulls out his iPhone and looks up Curtis Wilkes in New York, New York. Osbourne comes alive reading the results.**
NRO: What do we have here? Yes...yes...this is it. This has to be it... **Osbourne heads out to his garage and fires up the Mustang and heads for OIA. His pilot is already taxiing the runway as he pulls through the gate. His back wheels barely touch the ramp as it begins to raise and the plane lifts off. Three hours later the scene fades to Osbourne backing the car off of the plane at JFK and heading onto the interstate. The scene fades again to Osbourne pulling up in front of an aparment building with the corresponding address to what he found on-line. The rain pours down and the street lights have just come on as the sun sets completely. Osbourne hops out of the car and heads inside the building. He locates the nameplate Wilkes, C & E on the register. He buzzes the Super and a short, round foul smelling balding Italian man comes out scratching his ass. Rob passes him two one hundred dollar bills and moments later the man is unlocking the apartment of Curtis and Emma Wilkes. Osbourne goes inside and shuts the door behind him. He pulls out a digital camera and starts filming as he walks.** NRO: HONEY!!! I'M HOME!!! **Suddenly Osbourne is slightly startled by the family cat who leaps out from atop the refrigerator. As it leaps, claws outstretched hissing, Osbourne punchs it in mid-air in the head like it was Wilkes himself. The camera nearly falls from his opposite hand but he steadies it and keeps shooting. The cat whimpers under the cracking sound as Osbourne's fist connects. The feline hits the ground with a sickening thud and lies there motionless.** NRO: Great. I fucking hate cats. Serves the evil critter right for jumpin out like that. I didn't break in, the Super let me in afterall. Well, let's have a look around the home of the most twisted insane freak in the CWF shall we? **Osbourne walks around the apartment, noticing how extremely ordinary it seems. As he walks from room to room shooting footage of the Wilkes home he is about to give up on finding what he came looking for. Then he zooms in with the camera and is circling the ceiling and notices hinges at the base of the end of the hallway. He walks over, investigating with his free hand and finds an opening in the wallpaper. He reaches in and squeezes the handle, opening the hidden door the size of the wall that opens in to a dark, small room. Osbourne walks in and there is no light to be seen, nor are there lights to turn on. He notices a trio of candles on a table near the door and a book of matches. He lights a match and begins lighting candles. As he does he looks up and nearly loses his breath. The entire room is plastered with photos and articles about himself. As he glances around the room he sees every piece of Rob Osbourne merchandise ever made, rivalling even his own collection by far. There are stacks and stacks of DVD's from each and every promotion Osbourne has ever worked for. Something he does not even have in his posession. He turns around to see the backwall and nearly loses it. Twenty-Three copies of his autobiography lay open to identical pages lined up in neat rows on what appears to be old church pews. There is also a lecturn with another copy of his book, this one autographed by Osbourne himself. He just stands there amazed. He turns the camera around to face himself.** NRO: Ok...this is fucking disturbing. Wilkes, I knew you knew way too much about me, but damn. You have the First Church of Osbourne in your hall closet? You have more of an official record of my career than the president of my fanclub. Hell, you may in fact be a member yourself huh? Jesus H. Christ. This is bad. If I didn't think i had a shot of being tried for B&E, I'd call the cops on your sick ass. Maybe Emma doesn't know about this little special room. Maybe she should find out...now I really know why you call yourself Sickboy. It's because you are in fact one sick SICK boy. **Osbourne blows out the candles and reseals the door. He also lifts the dead cat up by its tail and opens a nearby window that faces the alley way 5 stories down. he drops the cat and closes the window behind him. He then sees himself out. The scene fades back to him pulling the car back onto his plane at JFK. As the plane lifts off he heads into his onboard office and switches on his digital uplink to PWN studios and begins his final promo for Showdown this week.** NRO: Well , well, well. Sickboy appears to have some sort of fettish with me. He seems to know more about me than I can recall myself sometimes. The fact that he helped me recall this particular match in more clearer terms, while he is correct I did pin the roid poppin retard, Torigianni, and yes, I did bed down his betrothed, and married her myself by the way. What he fails to recall is the fact that he had did not stand a chance in that match and he would have lost had Donovan not put more of a fight than he did. Oh, and he thinks some sort of recognition is due to him after he took my sloppy seconds and my title after I left town. Just like Maniac after Stayin Alive. WHOO HOO! HE HAS MY TITLE! Yeah, fitting both of them could only obtain those belts AFTER I left the promotions. Wilkes, I may not have eve beaten you specifically but I have ran through 1001 idiots like you in my time. You go out there obsessed with a particular superstar, me in this instance, and you push yourself well beyond your limits and abilities to try and be like me. You fail. You fall hard and fast and you fail miserably. Look at you man, the doctors won't even clear you, and I am sure when I was at your apartment, you were at some crack pot Doctor getting him to sign off on letting you compete. But enough about the past. Let's talk about the here and now. I have recently defeated each and every person that Xamin has booked me against in the CWF. The only match I was in that I didn't win was a four way and everyone who watched knows, I controlled that match, I alone determined the outcome. Just like I will this Saturday at Showdown when I drop Curtis Wilkes a.k.a. Sickboy faster than my Orlando magic did King James and the Cavs. But I want to speak directly you now Wilkes. Once and for all. My final words to you before I leave you lying in a puddle of your own blood and piss this Saturday is this... Next Sunday, when you are back in your sanctuary behind the secret wall at the end of your hallway, you will be a martyr to your flock at the First Church of Osbourne. You will be seen as a mighty sacrifice to your own God. And I will look on you with favor and spare your life. But piss me off ONE MORE TIME...and I will end your career. And that you can count on. You know what else you can count on? That Life is paiN!!!! **Osbourne flips off the uplink and heads back to the loading bay as the pilot announces he is about to land in Canada. Osbourne revs the engine of his 2010 Mustang Shelby GT500 and backs out, heading towards the arena. Thirty minutes later he spins the tires doing a brake stand waiting for the guard who raises the rail to let him into the parking area beneath the General Motors Place in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Osbourne calls his pilot on the cell, who is aboard the aircraft at the airport, and reminds him to have the jet refueled and the flight pattern approved well in time for a speedt retreat from Canada Saturday evening, Sunday morning. The Guard looks furious as Osbourne let's the SVT vehicle take off, spalshing a mud puddle in the face of the man. Osbourne heads down under the arena and parks his car in a specially delivered POD device and rolls down the door and double locks it and heads inside the arena. The CWF ring crew has just arrived and began seeting up for this wekends event. Osbourne passes a few of the concessions employees pushing carts filled with stock for a stand and they catch up to him shouting out to him....** Man #1: Mr. Osbourne! You dropped something back there!! Man #2: Hey Nitemare, you dropped these keys man! NRO: What? Oh fuck! Holy shit man, thank you very much. **Osbourne pulls his wallet out and hands each of the men a one hundred dollar bill. Shocked, they gratefully thank him.** NRO: Listen guys, losing THESE keys would cost me a great deal more than a few hundred bucks. THESE keys are the keys to my victory this weekend inside this arena. Say...you guys work here all the time right? Man #1: Well, when we get hours. Work is light these days because arenas just aren't selling out. Even in Canada people are having money problems. Man #2: I have a wife and three kids and they just cut my hours down just enough to longer get overtime. I don't know how we'll make ends meet this month.... NRO: Well, lucky for you two I am on the card this week once again in the main event, so you can once again expect a record crowd at your arena, despite the aweful naming of it. Good thing this arena isn't on US soil, it'd lose its naming rights contract and you'd really be fucked. Listen here though. I have some plans for this weekends events, and I can make it well worth your time and assitance if you can help me out fellas. Man #2: Go on.... NRO: Well, first of all, have either of you seen a kind of grungy looking guy, kind of looks homeless maybe sneaking around or milling about the arena? Man #1: Actually, yes, we have. Ironically he's wearing a very old t-shirt of yours as a matter of fact. He was asleep behind the dumpster under the loading dock this morning when we got here. It's mid day now, no telling where he went. He showed up two days ago on foot. He's been camping out back there. We can't bring ourselves to call the cops and we're the only ones to have seen him. Poor guy must be down on his luck. **Osbourne reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cheap cell phone and hands it to Man #2** NRO: Take this, if you see him dial 69 and I will answer. I need to know when you see him and where he is and then i need you to keep him there until i get there. If you find him for me, I'll give you both five grand, that worth just keeping your eyes and ears open? Man #1: Hell yeah! Man #2: I can pay my bills for three months on that! NRO: Awesome. That's not all. I need you two to get me into some of the locker rooms and we need to set some things up around the arena floor. You do everything i tell you to do, I'll give you both another five grand. Man #2: Oh God, thank you God! Man #1: Wow, maybe praying does work... NRO: What do you mean? Man #1: Bobby here just got a letter from his mortgage company and if he doesn't have his past due payments in by noon tomorrow he loses his house. He dropped on his knees crying and begged God for help. Then you dropped your keys as you passed by. NRO: Well I'll be a sonofabitch! That's fucking awesome bro! You two better get to work if you want to have this part done by noon tomorrow then eh? **Scene fades as the two men take off with Rob list as he whistles and walks towards the dressing rooms. FTB** |
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