The Silence is Broken
day prior to Shockwave - Orlando, FL - an empty arena, somewhere
\
Darkness, a slight lighting.
An empty arena, somewhere. Nothing huge, nothing big, nor elaborate. No giant video screen, no bleachers, just folding chairs, an old, dirty ring, memories of glory, pain, despair, victory, lingered in the air, mingling freely.
Truly, not a creature was stirring.
In the ring sat Lancaster, Seamus.
Seamus wears torn, faded semi-blood-stained jeans. The knees are worn right through. He's decked out in a "Seamus Finnegan: Shake Hands With The Devil" t-shirt, with a green plaid flannel vest. He is wearing his black Doc Marten boots, the toes of which are slightly scuffed. He is also sporting about a week's growth of facial hair on top of his goatee...the keg is right in front of him, his belt sitting right on top of it.
Lancaster sits beside his tag partner, wearing a fine tailored light black suit, a white oxford shirt, and a striped navy tie, tied loosely around his neck. His face is clean shaven, his hair, styled as per usual, his CAL World Tag Team Championship laying on the ground beside him non-chalantly.
The scene zoomed in on by the camera crew, angled just so to catch what they were watching on a delipadated television set. Their Shockwave appearance from the previous week:
[As the music fades out, Impact turns his back on Bonds to stare down the Whiskey Devils. He towers over the both of them, but neither Lancaster nor Finnegan are backing up an inch.]
Conarri: We’ve got this situation about to explode… Big D isn’t in the arena tonight because he’s busy with his pregnant girlfriend, but Impact looks about to start the match, D or no…
[With everyone's attention turned to the center of the ring, no one notices Bonds coming back towards the ring, chair in hand. The Whiskey Devils try to warn Impact, but as the giant turns around, he is met by a chair to the face!]
THWOOOONK!!!!!!
The Whiskey Devils wince.
[The fans begin booing as Bonds raises the chair, only to slam it down on Impact’s face again. Impact drops to one knee, blood pouring down over his eye. Bonds takes another swing back… and Finnegan grabs the chair!]
Styles: What the?!
[Finnegan pulls the chair out of Bonds’s hands and throws it out of the ring. But Bonds is faster, as he lands a low kick! Finnegan doubles over, as Lancaster and Bonds begin brawling. Impact gets up to his feet, shaking his head. Not seeing clearly, he delivers a massive spin kick that… misses Bonds entirely, but catches Lancaster right under the jaw!]
Lancaster rubs his jaw as Seamus grins somewhat, patting him on the back.
[The fans wince as Lancaster nearly flips a 360 before landing. Finnegan, recovering from the kick, lunges to his feet and spears Impact! Both men hit the mat hard, with Finnegan laying in repeated blows to the head.]
Seamus enjoys himself in action on the TV.
Conarri: This has broken down right in front of our eyes!
Styles: I can’t wait for next week!
[As Impact wraps his hand around the neck of Finnegan and starts to stand, probably looking for a chokeslam, he’s staggered by a running forearm shiver from Lancaster!]
"Redemption at last," ponders Robert.
[Lancaster lays in the blows to Impact’s back, a few seconds before the ring is filled with referees. Lancaster pushes a referee out of the way to continue the assault.]
Lancaster leans forward and switches off the TV.
"Confusion seemed to reign supreme last week on Shockwave. Unintentionally, of course. Impact, surely you know what transpired was by no means purposed, deliberate, or what have you. The unsavoury Bonds, I submit, was the catalyst for those unsightly scenes. Our hands, both Seamus and mine, are extended to both you, and D, in comradery, in sportsmanship. But I'm afraid, it ended all there last week. Every shred of those qualities have been disbanded, as you no doubt are well aware. I will make no apologies for what may transpire...no...what shall transpire on Shockwave. Shattered bodies shall be the consequence [as Lancaster continues to stare into the camera lens] whether ours or yours, or both...but, we shall enjoy it."
"Feckin' right, Robbie...ye see, Big D...and especially ye, Impact...as my tag team partner said, we didn't have a bloody thing to do wi'what happened to ye last week at Shockwave...oh aye, we were there,but we didn't plan any o'that, an' ye know why??? [screaming at the camera, a sudden look of complete and utter intensity across his face] DO YE??? DO YE??? DO YE??? [suddenly, his face returns to a quiet, calm, almost sullen mood]...Because we respect ye...oh aye, we do...we look at the two o'ye and see everythin' ye've done...ye've held on to those feckin' Key West Tag Team titles for months now, an' that in itself is an accomplishment...an accomplishment we both respect..."
"But do ye know what, Big D...Impact...this Shockwave, when ye stand in the middle o'this ring, toe to toe, face to face wi'the CAL World Tag Team Champions...respect goes right out the goddamned window. Feckin' aye! Ye see, when the bell rings, an'the match begins, do ye think we'll even give a rat's arse that yer the bloody Key West Champions??? Do ye think any o'that'll matter??? Feck, bein' the Key West Champions'll get ye a cup o'coffee an'that's about it...because ye see, Big D...Impact...as good as the two o'ye are...yer just not bloody good enough...[holding up his CAL World Tag Team belt]...for THESE...Ye think yer tough...not bloody tough enough...tell me, when was the last time the two o'ye wankers ever stepped into a Demented Cement Cell??? When was the last time ye fought in an "Around the World" Tables match??? Have ye ever brawled on the second level of a feckin' arena, puttin' yer own bloody lives on the line??? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YE FOUGHT SO BLOODY HARD AND BLED SO FECKIN' MUCH THAT BOTH YE AND YER OPPONENTS WERE KNOCKED OUT COLD WHILE THE REF COUNTED TO THREE??? WHEN??? WHEN??? WHEN??? [calmly] Because when ye know the bloody answers to those questions...then ye'll know what it'll take to get these goddamned belts off our waists...an' when yer lyin' on yer arse in the middle o'this goddamned ring, starin' up at the lights, lyin' in a pool o'yer own goddamned blood...then, only then, will ye realize just how fruitless and pointless yer search for the gold will have been...good luck to ye both. Do ye believe in luck??? DO YE??? Tell me, ever heard o'the "Luck o'the Irish"??? Well yer luck o'the Irish....HAS JUST...RUN...OUT!!!"
The Duke of Wessex listened with his head hung low and continued where his partner left off.
"You are men of strength. Giants amongst men. Titans, ready to crush those who dare oppose you with a brush of your hands. You get what you want, and have little trouble in doing so. South Atlantic Championship...Florida Nightlife Championship...and of course, the titles you hold now. What are we then you may ask yourself, to stand in your way."
He paused.
.
"We are the personification of desire. Of never ending drive to fight on, and on, and on...forever, if needs be. To be the best ever known, to fell those who continue to stand in our way. As it shall be, and as it shall continue to be, as the cycle continues."
Raising his head.
"What we say may sound repetitive, overbearing, pompous, what have you. But to the truth, can these descriptions be not applied. We stand by what we believe, and apostasy shall never cross our lips. We look forward to tomorrow, where once more we play the game of Fate, the game of History. "
He smiled.
"A game we are the masters of. Remember that we fear no giants, no men who walk this earth. And we shall never, ever...fail."
"So Big D...Impact...before ye lay yerselves down to sleep...say yerselves a wee prayer...pray that we'll spare yer worthless goddamned lives tomorrow night, because rest assured, the only way the two o'ye're leavin' that arena alive...will be on a goddamned stretcher...whether that stretcher includes a body bag...the choice is yers...personally, it's no skin off my back either way, because if ye think that for one bloody second we'll hesitate to rip yer feckin' arms off and tear ye limb from feckin' limb...ye'll have no arms before yer done thinkin' about it...so Big D...Impact...Hell awaits ye within the confines o'this ring...the clock is ticking...and tomorrow night...yer time...IS...UP!!!"
Silence for several moments.
The silence is broken.
"Until then..."
The scene fades.
An empty arena, somewhere. Nothing huge, nothing big, nor elaborate. No giant video screen, no bleachers, just folding chairs, an old, dirty ring, memories of glory, pain, despair, victory, lingered in the air, mingling freely.
Truly, not a creature was stirring.
In the ring sat Lancaster, Seamus.
Seamus wears torn, faded semi-blood-stained jeans. The knees are worn right through. He's decked out in a "Seamus Finnegan: Shake Hands With The Devil" t-shirt, with a green plaid flannel vest. He is wearing his black Doc Marten boots, the toes of which are slightly scuffed. He is also sporting about a week's growth of facial hair on top of his goatee...the keg is right in front of him, his belt sitting right on top of it.
Lancaster sits beside his tag partner, wearing a fine tailored light black suit, a white oxford shirt, and a striped navy tie, tied loosely around his neck. His face is clean shaven, his hair, styled as per usual, his CAL World Tag Team Championship laying on the ground beside him non-chalantly.
The scene zoomed in on by the camera crew, angled just so to catch what they were watching on a delipadated television set. Their Shockwave appearance from the previous week:
[As the music fades out, Impact turns his back on Bonds to stare down the Whiskey Devils. He towers over the both of them, but neither Lancaster nor Finnegan are backing up an inch.]
Conarri: We’ve got this situation about to explode… Big D isn’t in the arena tonight because he’s busy with his pregnant girlfriend, but Impact looks about to start the match, D or no…
[With everyone's attention turned to the center of the ring, no one notices Bonds coming back towards the ring, chair in hand. The Whiskey Devils try to warn Impact, but as the giant turns around, he is met by a chair to the face!]
THWOOOONK!!!!!!
The Whiskey Devils wince.
[The fans begin booing as Bonds raises the chair, only to slam it down on Impact’s face again. Impact drops to one knee, blood pouring down over his eye. Bonds takes another swing back… and Finnegan grabs the chair!]
Styles: What the?!
[Finnegan pulls the chair out of Bonds’s hands and throws it out of the ring. But Bonds is faster, as he lands a low kick! Finnegan doubles over, as Lancaster and Bonds begin brawling. Impact gets up to his feet, shaking his head. Not seeing clearly, he delivers a massive spin kick that… misses Bonds entirely, but catches Lancaster right under the jaw!]
Lancaster rubs his jaw as Seamus grins somewhat, patting him on the back.
[The fans wince as Lancaster nearly flips a 360 before landing. Finnegan, recovering from the kick, lunges to his feet and spears Impact! Both men hit the mat hard, with Finnegan laying in repeated blows to the head.]
Seamus enjoys himself in action on the TV.
Conarri: This has broken down right in front of our eyes!
Styles: I can’t wait for next week!
[As Impact wraps his hand around the neck of Finnegan and starts to stand, probably looking for a chokeslam, he’s staggered by a running forearm shiver from Lancaster!]
"Redemption at last," ponders Robert.
[Lancaster lays in the blows to Impact’s back, a few seconds before the ring is filled with referees. Lancaster pushes a referee out of the way to continue the assault.]
Lancaster leans forward and switches off the TV.
"Confusion seemed to reign supreme last week on Shockwave. Unintentionally, of course. Impact, surely you know what transpired was by no means purposed, deliberate, or what have you. The unsavoury Bonds, I submit, was the catalyst for those unsightly scenes. Our hands, both Seamus and mine, are extended to both you, and D, in comradery, in sportsmanship. But I'm afraid, it ended all there last week. Every shred of those qualities have been disbanded, as you no doubt are well aware. I will make no apologies for what may transpire...no...what shall transpire on Shockwave. Shattered bodies shall be the consequence [as Lancaster continues to stare into the camera lens] whether ours or yours, or both...but, we shall enjoy it."
"Feckin' right, Robbie...ye see, Big D...and especially ye, Impact...as my tag team partner said, we didn't have a bloody thing to do wi'what happened to ye last week at Shockwave...oh aye, we were there,but we didn't plan any o'that, an' ye know why??? [screaming at the camera, a sudden look of complete and utter intensity across his face] DO YE??? DO YE??? DO YE??? [suddenly, his face returns to a quiet, calm, almost sullen mood]...Because we respect ye...oh aye, we do...we look at the two o'ye and see everythin' ye've done...ye've held on to those feckin' Key West Tag Team titles for months now, an' that in itself is an accomplishment...an accomplishment we both respect..."
"But do ye know what, Big D...Impact...this Shockwave, when ye stand in the middle o'this ring, toe to toe, face to face wi'the CAL World Tag Team Champions...respect goes right out the goddamned window. Feckin' aye! Ye see, when the bell rings, an'the match begins, do ye think we'll even give a rat's arse that yer the bloody Key West Champions??? Do ye think any o'that'll matter??? Feck, bein' the Key West Champions'll get ye a cup o'coffee an'that's about it...because ye see, Big D...Impact...as good as the two o'ye are...yer just not bloody good enough...[holding up his CAL World Tag Team belt]...for THESE...Ye think yer tough...not bloody tough enough...tell me, when was the last time the two o'ye wankers ever stepped into a Demented Cement Cell??? When was the last time ye fought in an "Around the World" Tables match??? Have ye ever brawled on the second level of a feckin' arena, puttin' yer own bloody lives on the line??? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YE FOUGHT SO BLOODY HARD AND BLED SO FECKIN' MUCH THAT BOTH YE AND YER OPPONENTS WERE KNOCKED OUT COLD WHILE THE REF COUNTED TO THREE??? WHEN??? WHEN??? WHEN??? [calmly] Because when ye know the bloody answers to those questions...then ye'll know what it'll take to get these goddamned belts off our waists...an' when yer lyin' on yer arse in the middle o'this goddamned ring, starin' up at the lights, lyin' in a pool o'yer own goddamned blood...then, only then, will ye realize just how fruitless and pointless yer search for the gold will have been...good luck to ye both. Do ye believe in luck??? DO YE??? Tell me, ever heard o'the "Luck o'the Irish"??? Well yer luck o'the Irish....HAS JUST...RUN...OUT!!!"
The Duke of Wessex listened with his head hung low and continued where his partner left off.
"You are men of strength. Giants amongst men. Titans, ready to crush those who dare oppose you with a brush of your hands. You get what you want, and have little trouble in doing so. South Atlantic Championship...Florida Nightlife Championship...and of course, the titles you hold now. What are we then you may ask yourself, to stand in your way."
He paused.
.
"We are the personification of desire. Of never ending drive to fight on, and on, and on...forever, if needs be. To be the best ever known, to fell those who continue to stand in our way. As it shall be, and as it shall continue to be, as the cycle continues."
Raising his head.
"What we say may sound repetitive, overbearing, pompous, what have you. But to the truth, can these descriptions be not applied. We stand by what we believe, and apostasy shall never cross our lips. We look forward to tomorrow, where once more we play the game of Fate, the game of History. "
He smiled.
"A game we are the masters of. Remember that we fear no giants, no men who walk this earth. And we shall never, ever...fail."
"So Big D...Impact...before ye lay yerselves down to sleep...say yerselves a wee prayer...pray that we'll spare yer worthless goddamned lives tomorrow night, because rest assured, the only way the two o'ye're leavin' that arena alive...will be on a goddamned stretcher...whether that stretcher includes a body bag...the choice is yers...personally, it's no skin off my back either way, because if ye think that for one bloody second we'll hesitate to rip yer feckin' arms off and tear ye limb from feckin' limb...ye'll have no arms before yer done thinkin' about it...so Big D...Impact...Hell awaits ye within the confines o'this ring...the clock is ticking...and tomorrow night...yer time...IS...UP!!!"
Silence for several moments.
The silence is broken.
"Until then..."
The scene fades.