Daylight Robbery

{The scene fades in at a shady bar near the DCW Headquarters. A lurch of drunkards are scattered about the scene, sucking at the mouth of the Dark One known as Alchohol. Amid these bums is a tall man. He looks about 6'4 or 6'5 and is wearing a dark brown leather coat, and has belt of some sort over each shoulder. As the camera zooms in, we can make out the face known only too well on DCW TV, the dark beady eyes of a sinner, the DCW North American Champion, the XFWF World Champion, the "Lone Gunman" John Taylor. Taylor is sat on a barstool, staring into oblivion, as the bartender wakes him from his daydream...}

Bartender: Hey Pal...{Pointing to two empty and one half empty bottle of dry Russian Vodka.} those things ain't free you know!

Taylor: How did I guess?? Money, once again the root of all things good and evil. A lot like this sham of a company calling themselves Dead Cell Wrestling. Watching DCW TV makes me sick to my stomach, I am actually ashamed to be called a champion in DCW. {Points to the gold plate on his North American title, with the words John Taylor engraved, as several of the people around the bar start to listen to the North American Champion.} Sure, this is gold, but what is gold? Rock? Metal? Twisted Metal to serve a purpose, to symbolize a winner? All this symbolizes is that there is nobody else even worthy of a match against the Lone Gunman in this petty little North American division. A small division for a small title, a poor quality, low-card title. But I am more than that...I am no pushover, I am no jobber, I am no Low Carder, I am the cream of the crop...a lethal Assassin, a samurai compared to these nobodies who make up DCW's roster. I mean, Kid Junior? Ice? Justin Sharp?? Is this some sick family reunion or something? It is a crime, a Daylight Robbery the fact that I am not, nor have I had a shot at the DCW Champion. {Takes his XFWF World Title from over his other shoulder and drapes it across the bar counter.} But this...this is more like it, Heavyweight Championship Gold, you'd think I'd be over the moon...but, in a word..no. Back when I joined XFWF I expected top quality, competitive matches against formiddable opponents like Marc Mc Carthy...Ginjin...Hatred...T-Rex, not having to defend it in another fed against some fucking nobody called Kid Junior. It seems this kid got lucky, not only does he get a shot at my North American Title, but also my XFWF World Title...which corrupt staff member did he sleep with to get that one??? Well Kid, at Dark Side {OOC: Couldn't be bothered writing the capital letter then small, etc.} you will be thrown in, head first at the deep end, you will be initiated into a man's world, and taught a very valuable lesson...you don't belong in a Man's world!!!!

{The drunkards begin to cheer, and some produce pistols and shoot towards the roof, then most of them fall to the ground, asleep.}

Taylor: Fools. What do they know about wrestling anyway? I mean they probably can't tell a Sharp Lock from a Sharp Drop, let alone real moves, let alone real wrestling. So it seems the new president isn't a biased snob, and has realized the sheer talent in front of his eyes. Finally I get some recognition in this little hole called DCW, I get to headline Mindtrip, against McCarthy, Justin Oying and S.I.D.S Junior. But...there's a catch..there's always a catch! I am forced to team up with this illiterate waste of a perfectly good Pay Per View Main Event, Ice and this sham, this walking lie Maxx Pain. Pain claims to own XFWF...Maxx, it's quite clear who has the goods in your little fed, {Gunman picks up his XFWF Heavyweight Title from the counter, and straps it around his waist.} Me. You may technically own XFWF, but technically, I own you. Around my waist is the ability to run your business investment into the ground, as well as the ability to SKYROCKET XFWF to the Mainstream, to the Main Event, Maxx you don't want to mess with me now do you? It's a fatal game of cat and mouse, and I advise you and Ice to stand back and watch the Assassin get down to work, whether it be the wannabe Xtreme, the Insane Imbosil Justin Sharp, or the so called "Real Deal", nothing but a blatant egomaniac, or my said "Rival", my supposed "Enemy", Kid Junior, the man DCW has just thrown in my face, and all of a sudden it's a fued? All of those men will feel the velocity...the violence...the VIOLENCE OF SILENCE!!!! But really they are no match, no challenge, no rival to me. When will I find an opponent worthy of battle against the Lone Gunman? Could T-Rex be the man? Could it be Adam Cage? Could it be Pitfighter??? I'm Waiting!!!

{Taylor climbs off his stool, reaches into his pocket, and places a twenty on the bar, then walks toward the exit as the scene fades out.}