The scene opens, in a suburban area. A few people are seen walking down the sidewalk, all that have been seen by the eyes of rush hour. The day was now growing up into noon, and it had been blaring light, abit of warmth in the middle of winter, was somewhat unusual in this time of year, at least. The wind begun to pick up faster than it had, a few people looking along in disgust. A few males walking by in trench coats, carrying briefcases, women walking by holding them also, most of the crowd looking like a business bunch. The noon fell silent apon walking shoes, only a few that could be told apart from the business half, those who wore casual clothing. A few males, wearing jeans, and a random shirt, females wearing normal clothing, the city wasn’t all business. A few people looking towards a building that was in front of the camera, gazing along it for a moment or so, the structure abit tall, a skyscraper, seeing masses enter it at once, walking from all directions.
”All of these people, are the same. Nothing tells them apart. They all have the same things on their minds. Meaningless.” These words, echoed around the city, from what would only seem like an usual, known voice to the viewers. It came from, a man, who had taken to the side of a building, leaned up against it, head hung low, wearing a hat. The hat, read ‘XWF’ on the front, in a lime green sort of font. The rest of the hat, the body, the bill, being a midnight black color, the attire, was a black shirt, which on the front ‘The Judge The Jury and The Executioner’, was read. For pants, black jeans were worn, a skull on the pant leg, where a chain connected to a belt loop. ”Meaningless puppets, who do as they’re told, anytime. You tell them to jump, their only question is how high. It sickens me.”
The camera pans around abit, around the setting, zooming in towards the man, who was now recognized as Cade Silver. His eyes were shaded from the hat, and his face was dark, containing no emotion. His mouth was flat, showing no sign of not a smile, nor of anything else of that sort. ”The XWF, is filled full of these meaningless people, who are nothing but place holders. That serve no purpose, but to only be stepping stones.” He pushes from the gray building and begins walking, hands digging down into the pockets of the jeans, while walking around a corner.
He continues walking along the side walk, looking around the city, a few papers blown along his walk way, as he went on. Passing by a few people, who paid him nor attention, or vice versa. The walkway grown silent, as Silver progressed around the block, walking by a few stores, each having only a few customers apiece, coffee shops, it would look like. ”There are only a few who mean anything. Only a few who will bother to stay around, and do what they intend on. People like Chesney Clausen, Orix, anyone like that, only stay around for the moment, of what they could have, what they want. There are only a few men, who stay for the run, stay dedicated for what they want.”
Stopping for a moment, to retract his left hand, bringing a cig to his lips, and holds it firmly in place, pushing the hand back. Bringing it back, he held a small lighter, and lit the cig, taking in a long drag, watching the end turn to a blaze, a small puff of smoke exiting his lips. Once lit, he blew a small stack of fumes from his nostrils, and removed it from his lips, breathing out once more. ”And those people, mean nothing. They do what they are told, or else they leave. I believe it’s all a conspiracy, Clausen fucks everyone over, and has been disowned, the moment he comes back, he’s given the first shot. For people like him, make me sick, and for Phan letting allowing them to do so. He’s merely allowing himself to look stupid, and ran over. Not having enough guts to have what it takes, to take over.” Moving the hand back, the cig is replaced into his lips, and takes another long drag, the end turning another tint, a shade of read, abit of smoke blown from the nostrils, as well as from around the sides of his mouth. Once the drag had been taken, he removes it, and holds it in between his index, and middle finger, arms along his side. ”I would atleast think Phan had the common sense to let someone else up in front. Like someone who deserves it, someone who might actually mean a threat to York. I might not be as of yet, but he should atleast give people the chance, who could actually carry it out, a name that comes to mind, is Shaun Taylor, Stephen Blood perhaps. Someone who could actually stand in his way. The way I see it, Phan wants him to keep that belt, so he keeps giving the champ puds, and lets him keep it. I don’t see that exactly fit. Why he fears Clausen so much, to let him come back, and run the place, blows right by me.”
Pulls the cig back up into his lips, taking a faint drag, and then with one simple motion, he flicks it infront of him, and once he has made his way to it, he steps on it, crushing it under his boot, as he went. Still, thinking to himself, almost silently. This week, he was pulling double duty, for the XWF, and a few that has asked of his presence, the GEW, an older fed, in which really got him started, got him into the ‘wrestling’ mood, to make him really go on with what he does today. But that was his last thought on his mind, the only thought he could really solemnly think of, was his up growing feud with Mike C, and his friends.
”This world is too simple these days, people are too easily bribed with money, to do anything. Money plays a large role, in every day life in the XWF, even if anyone has the ability to doubt it one bit. A poor wrestler, someone new, has nothing. Literally, coming into a wrestling federation, is somewhat impossible for these types. Having nothing to work with, and not even money to look good, no one likes them. Being in the ring, and doing good, isn’t 100% percent of what you do, but only a small fraction. Most of it, is how you think, the battle is won before it is fought. The best get better, while the worst get worse, it’s a simple fact, rather you like it, or you hate it. Same as wrestlers go. There are your fan favorites, and then there are those jackasses, you hate to love. Each get their share of crowd, all of them are loved. But what people don’t see, is that we’re all the same, trying to show the world time and time again, who is better. But the truth is, we’re all the same. Only that a few of us, are gifted with more than another, weather it be money, or plain out abilities. Each can be worked up, with enough will power.”
Walking around another corner, into a dark alley, he walks around somewhat, stopping to the dead end, and stands silent for a moment, breathing abit lightly, and at the same time, abit heavily. ”Without the proper things, many wrestlers careers are ended, maybe before they are started, they meet their dead ends, before they have time to explore rest of what they have. Those who have enough to do so, are truly lucky, that’s how I sometimes like to think.” Pushing away, he walks back the way he comes, and then continues down the street, a mass amount of cars, by now, have finally passed him by, some at a blazing speed, and some, most at a slow, traffic speed. ”Some people, are looked apon highly, for how they show themselves, how they talk, and how they act. If someone is found just a slight bit funny, he is automatically loved, for not his performance inside of the ring, but for the show he puts on outside. All of that, means nothing, when everything falls down, all that matters, is what happens inside of the square, where some fate has been made, and a lot of time shattered. But I would say from my own sights, I would say more broken. A lot of talent past, a lot of talent here, some will not be brought into the light. Favoritism also plays a large role. Someone likes someone else, he is given a shot, weather he is the best or not. An example, a football season starts, a favorite team has already been started. The Patriots make it to the SuperBowl, look how many fans they have made that year. Going into the next, they lose, and start to decline, the fans leave, and go on to what’s new, following the band wagon. Keeping up with the Jones, in another sense.”
“People are so concerned about who is the best, they don’t have time to realize who is cool, or what is slick. Some people, only pick out people because of a style that they have, maybe because of a certain personality. That is what this sport was made for, picking your favorite wrestler, and then coming out every night that you can, or perhaps watching every night, to see what was going to happen to your favorite, holding on to the edge of your pillow, actually worried about what was going to happen, a real experience. You may go home, or to bed, thinking, man that guy sucks, he really needs to pick up the slack. Or maybe, He’s good, but he needs to be better. Or the most that I’ve seen, He could really do better, but it was a fluke, he’ll do it next time. Fans, cannot face the truth, seeing their favorites go down, but in a sense, you must respect that. Other sides, are glad seeing them win, and then, there Is that other side, who aren’t fans, who could only care less, but to follow how popularity goes.”
Stopping for a moment, a few people still passing by, the wind blowing harder, swaying his clothes around abit more, but not slowing him down, once he had kept going. He came up to an arena, Buffalo, and approached it, very slowly, looking along the structure, the scene panning to a close. A few moments later, it would open, finding the back of Cade, walking up abit of steps, and going on, a large surrounding. In a few minutes, he would be walking down the ramp, of the wrestling arena, where the Show Down would be held this week. He stood at the top, looking at the ring, folding his arms, pacing back and forth. ”Here, Show Down, it may be the start for a new light, or it could be as easily as the end. Either way, there will always be an audience to satisfy, to watch apon your every move, to see every little mistake you might make, every little fall you might experience. That thought, simply might cause a few to flake, the thought that they might look stupid, or maybe they might not look cool, the poor. How they do in the ring, seems to only reflect on how you look. You could look like shit, and do good, and looked apon as being good. All the more way to not let your mind wonder, but to do as you feel.”
He walks forward, stopping the pacing, and then makes his way down the ramp slowly, moving his hands loosely to his side, and enters under the rope, sliding under, and stands in the center of the ring, after walking around it a few times, looking out, and into the empty seats, there was no one, nothing but maybe a janitor or two cleaning up. Cade walks over to one of the turnbuckles, and takes a seat on the side, looking around the place. ”I look forward to seeing the lines beam down apon my body, just being given the chance to smash, to hurt, to end another career is a thrill to me. It’s a sport, it gives me a feeling, like nothing else can give me. It is almost abit of a verge, something scaring, showing another part of me.” Cade laughs coldly for a few minutes, as the scene falls black.
Believe Nothing that you Hear. And Only Half of what you See.

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