[] A.W.E. [] Roleplay 05 []
"When Did You Ever Go Round The Bend?"

The scene opens with Nathan Kaye sat at a two-person table at an unnamed Wetherspoon pub somewhere back home in the United Kingdom. The table is up tight to a wall allowing the viewer to catch strong glimpse of the artwork to the table's left � pictures of the city of Manchester, starting with drawings from the Industrial Revolution era right up to the modern regeneration of the city over the course of the last decades. Nathan, we can deduce from these pictures, is home.

He sits in the regular type of clothing that we have come to associate with the man. A brown leather jacket clouds a light green t-shirt, while he is also wearing some dark blue jeans and brown loafers. His hands are gripping a laminated menu for the establishment, and his eyes pan up and down looking for something on the menu that is either edible or vegetarian.

After a few moments, a petite woman comes into the picture and stands at the other side of the table. Kaye looks up, the whites of his eyes increase and he suddenly smiles. He leaps to his feet, allowing the laminated disappointment in his hands to drop to the table. The woman is, as mentioned, considerably shorter than Kaye, with long, flowing red hair. A white cardigan covers a black dress � how apt for the message to come. She has her hands nervously holding onto a strap on her handbag as Nathan rushes to his feet. She grins, revealing a set of homely teeth. She isn�t the prettiest girl that has ever walked in front of Nathan Kaye, it has to be said, but she still must mean something.

�You�re late, but I�ll forgive you.� Kaye says, still smiling. He leans forward and embraces her and she, awkwardly, returns the embrace, her smile suddenly taking a turn for the worse, mutating into a nervous, lopsided grin. �It�s been a while�been too long�� he adds, taking a step back and taking a look at the woman in front of him. �How�s things Stephanie?� He asks.

The girl, Stephanie, puts her bag down under the table and takes the seat opposite Nathan. She coughs and nervously smiles at the man now sat opposite her. �Good�we�ve been�I�ve been very good, thank you.� She replies. She had a very softly spoken voice, working in perfect tandem with the small, miniscule frame of her person.

�I�m glad, I�m really glad.� Nathan replies. The viewer could be certainly forgiven for seeing some sort of falseness about the enthusiasm that Nathan injects into these words. His fingers are interlocked with one another on the table top, as if to stop him nervously fiddling with anything he can lay his hands on. �Did you�erm�hear the news?� He asks. His tone has lowered slightly, back to normality.

�Yes. I did. I heard from your dad. Oh, I�m so happy for you Nathan.� Stephanie replies, revealing those teeth again. No one�s perfect. �When do you fly out there and start?� She asks, inquisitively. She is genuinely interested, it would appear. There�s no falseness about her voice now, unlike Nathan.

�End of the month. Nearly finished packing, leaving all of the big things to mum and dad and letting them hold onto them�you know�in case things don�t�� he stutters. He doesn�t want to finish his sentence. He hasn�t gotten this far, especially considering he�s signing the contract when he gets home, to allow himself to jinx his final shot at the big time over a get together drink.

A waiter, conveniently, walks by but is beckoned to the table by an enthusiastic glance by Nathan.

�What do you want, Steph?� He asks. Steph, I haven�t called her Steph in years. God.

�Just a water, please Nathan.� She replies, reaching across the table for the laminated menu. Not to actually find something to eat, she too, much like Nathan, is a serial killer of time

�Just a water? Not a gin and tonic or anything�?� He asks. This doesn�t sound right?

�Yeah, I won�t be staying too long, see�� she coyly replies. It�s worth noting that she says this without looking into Nathan�s eyes, those confused retinas that glare at her, sensing the worst.

�OK, she�ll just have a water I guess.� He says. Scribble, scribble, scribble. �And I�ll have a bottle of orange juice please.� He adds. The waiter waltzes off, leaving Kaye to turn and face this girl. She�s still refusing eye contact. �Something wrong, Stephanie?� Nathan asks. Stephanie looks up and forces a wry little smile and sighs.

�I�m marrying Peter.� She replies. �Engaged last week. We don�t know when the wedding is.� Nathan sits there, completely shell shocked. He has a completely windswept look on his face, completely lost for words, something that the AWE fans probably wouldn�t have seen so far in his stint on the roster.

�Wow.� He finally utters. He looks for the menu. Curses, she�s already got a hold of it. She knows me this well�

�Is that all you can say?� She replies. There�s such an innocence that echoes in her tone of voice, she seems totally unsuitable to the world of professional wrestling.

�Well done�I mean congratulations. Yes. Well�.good for you.� He adds. He adds a smile to the compliment, one that�s authenticity is very hard to tell. �Peter always did seem like a�you know�er�.nice�.person.� This situation is totally unique, but still doesn�t compensate for Nathan�s inability at the moment to hand these words. This man has been promised to have his head forcibly removed by an Saudi Arabian Olympic wrestler and have it inserted back inside him � he simply laughed. But now�?

�He makes me happy.� She says. There�s no spite or anything in these words by Stephanie, but an imaginary dagger flies across from her side of the table and darts into Kaye�s ribs. He visibly deflates. �You did�Nathan�� she tries to recant, but the weapon is inserted. �You know I loved Canada and the people you knew��

�But it wasn�t the right profession, was it?� He interrupts. There�s a silence, all we are left with is the clatter of cutlery in the background and the masses aimless, drunken chatter. Kaye�s arms are now folded, and he looks up at a photo to pass the time. Manchester�s cotton industry was one of the pioneers for the need for machinery to replace the common man on a wide, large scale...

The drinks arrive. End of round one, one could certainly say. The water is planted in front of Stephanie, looking across the table in sadness at her former man, and Kaye�s bottle of orange juice is planted in front of him. He utters an almost muted thank you as the waiter walks away again.

�We�ve talked so many times about us being out there, Nathan.� Stephanie adds. There�s now a depth to her voice, a defiance against softness, a wanting willingness to be taken a little bit more seriously by the sulking man across the table from him. �The way I went about ending the relationship was unfair, I know this, Nathan. However, the sadness that I felt while in Ontario was just too much to bare.�

�You could have talked�� Nathan�s questioning opens the floodgates of his former girlfriend.

�Talked? You�d never bloody listen, Nathan!� Wow. At the start of the scene it would be impossible to imagine how loud this little mouse could roar. �Nights up finishing crossword after puzzle after crosswords waiting for you to come home when you said you would. Dinner reservations for two only half completed. Neighbours�talking!� OK, this lambasting is starting to receive an inquisitive audience in the establishment. Kaye notes this, quickly.

�OK, OK. Sorry, I shouldn�t have asked a question I knew the answer to.� He replies, bringing the softness of his voice down as the sentences progresses and eases the tension on the scene. �I am sorry, Stephanie. I am so sorry.� He adds. There�s a moment silence. Stephanie takes a sip of water, while Nathan gulps down half of his orange juice.

�I promised Peter I wouldn�t stay out too long. I can�t have anything to eat here.� Stephanie adds, reaching under the table for her handbag. Don�t worry, I don�t think any sane person could. �Take care of yourself Nathan, let me know how it goes out there.� She adds before getting to her feet. Nathan purposely forgets his manners, staring into space with his arms folded like some taunted child. Steph sighs, walks around the table and kneels down to look Nathan closely in the eyes. �Nathan, let me give you something to think about. While you�re out there, in the States, have fun. Mix it with work. Laugh out loud when the situation warrants it.� She says. Nathan comes to and the tightness of his crossed arms melts, and they slink down to rest by his sides. �Most of all Nathan, find love. You have love to give someone, I know you do. And I know how warm your love can be. Just find someone who deserves that love but make sure you feel you deserve hers.� She adds. Nathan, upon digesting these words, grins slightly, but then allows his mouth to be captivated by a full, toothy smile and a chuckle. �Don�t stay in that industry for too long Nathan. Don�t end up being one of these wheelchair bound has-beens. Leave when you�ve accomplished what you want to accomplish.� She adds. She kisses Nathan on the forehead and stands up. �And make sure you come home to see your parents, two of the most wonderful people I�ve ever met.� She reaches across and squeezes Nathan�s wrist, who grabs the hand in question with his and squeezes that. Something they used to do as a couple. �Take care.� She adds, and walks away, off screen.

Nathan turns to face her, past the other tables, out out view and out of the door. He stares at the door that took him away from her this one, last time and sighs again. He swipes the glass off the table and swigs down the rest of the orange juice before getting to his feet, arranging his jacket and looking one last time at one of the framed pictures on the wall. Arndale Centre. Manchester never looked so beautiful. He turns and walks towards the bar, to pay the bill � in more ways than one, you could say.

Houston, He's In The Doldrums...

So said some sadistic little teenager with a personal computer bought for him by his mother on Tuesday night. What I thought was a witty reference to the film Apollo 13 and some other poor soul heading to Houston for Monday's show turned out to be completely true, although that poor soul was my own.

It will be impossible for this preacher to convert the masses with just one measly performance on Monday night but I will simply have to try my hardest to make the first few converts come through. There is sands of time for myself to really show the watching world that I, Nathan Kaye, have a lot more to show the world than bruises on my cheeks from Sean Ryken's superkicks. There is more than a handful of close pinfalls. There is more than defeat.

It all starts again on Monday night, and as Eric Sin will learn over the course of the next few moments and during that match, it will be a Creation that he will never forget, and sickly feel happy to have been apart of.

I�m sure numerous viewers are lambasting the history lessons that my segments have become, aren�t they? I would like to remind these viewers that I feel it would be unfair on both me and them that if I were to neglect my past. If I were to use the metaphorical broom and sweep it all under the carpet and ignore it, hoping for it to go away, then I really do fear that in someway it will come back to haunt me. Whether it be dragged up by some future opponent, hell bent on gaining some emotional or psychological advantage on me, or rather someone from that past themselves attempting to concoct a story of their own using my history as a basis and then going ahead and robbing me of money or life. With everything out, in the open, on the table, the world can be my witness as I very slowly attempt to move on with my life.

To move on, more relevantly, would be to look at the present and the immediate future. The Nathan Kaye revival roams on to Houston, Texas and to another wonderful instalment of AWE action. Houston, so far, has been a wonderful experience � mostly due to the fact that I haven�t left my motel room since arriving out of fear of what these ruffian Texans will do to me. But as these four walls remain imposing, it�s given me more than enough time to sit and watch what Eric Sin had to say to me the other day in his wonderfully crafted interview.

After every showing, when the stop button is pressed and dreadful American television takes over the screen again, I find myself completely unable to do anything other than press rewind and watch the whole segment again. And again. And again! It�s becoming quite terrifying in fact. I have to admit to you, it�s been years since I felt so attached to watching someone else, someone who isn�t me, launch into such an unrehearsed furore concerning a person�s basic character. Every time I hear your words, Eric, I�m left either shaking my head in disgust and dismay, or either chortling loudly and laughing my beautiful head off. It really does depend on the direction of the wind outside, if I�m honest. Why do I feel disgust and dismay? Well, Eric, you lack the basic principles that make up the backbone of a true professional wrestler. Your loutish, hooligan attitude to life may have gotten so far elsewhere in the world and in other organisations, but to believe that your language and behaviour is going to create an opening for you here in the AWE is completely ludicrous. More so, to think that this attitude has any particular negative effect on me, my mindset or my tactics going into this encounter on Monday, then sadly I think it is Eric Sin, not me, who is in any way delusional when it comes to assessing our two personalities.

Firstly, Eric, I must thank you. Thank you very much for bowing before my polite request during the middle of the week for a response to my desire for information about you. You so duly complied with this trainwreck of a showing, one that has left me stunned that such a person like you feels they have any right, or CHANCE, to compete with an athlete, a wrestler, a man born to rule the ring. Your little trophy showroom attempt at the conclusion of your efforts left nothing that even resembles an impact on my mindset when it comes to how I am going to deal with you on Monday. And yes, Eric, I pick and choose my words very carefully. I can safely say, with a brimful of confidence in my own ability, that I am going to deal with you on Monday.

How did this conclusion come about? I'm sure that you're dying to know, Eric. Fear not. Sit back, relax, how about you enjoy some wonderful snack food and one of those nice, cold intoxicating drinks you infect your body with. I have to address your feeble and absolutely hilarious attempt to inject some rage into this contest between yourself and me. But why would you want to do this? To add some spice to our match? Is the fact that this match is your illustrious debut in the AWE not enough to inspire you? Do you really have to make some petulant, and that's being polite, little attempt to try and draw some curse words from my lips?

Eric, it will take a lot more than that to really push my buttons I'm afraid. What made the attempt completely laughable was the fact that you made references to my wife and daughter, despite me being a childless man who has never married. But then again, don't let a lack of research about yours truly stop you from attempting to assassinate my very character. The difference between me and you is apparent from the very outset, Sin. I am an educated, intelligent man with an excellent ring sense. You, on the other end of the spectrum in all ways, are a completely idiotic Neanderthal disaster of a man. I really do wonder, Eric, how you managed to win those five world titles, if you ever did at all, while having the dubious honour of dragging your oversized knuckles along the floor on the way to and from the ring? Sadly for you, this is the closest I can allow myself to be when it comes to rage and YOU Eric. I guess it must be cheerfully ironic in your eyes that a petty line concerning a completely fictitious pair of my immediate family completely failed to get a rise out of me, but the lines you uttered concerning your ridiculous prestige when it comes to the world of wrestling made me really want to take issue with you.

You like to believe that after the match, whatever the outcome, although I do suspect that in your hearts of wrestling hearts you realise you're in for a debut from hell, you try and instigate some wonderful ring psychology on me. I'll forgive you the mistake of repeating basically what I said to Sean Ryken last week, word for bloody word you uncreative bastard, concerning our particular encounter. You like to believe, for some completely foundation-less reason, that you have succeeded in occupying my mind in the course of this week and will continue to do so once the match is complete. To make sure you're not completely disappointed Sin, you're only half right. I am, and will continue, to think about you in the build up to Monday's match. The thing is, my friend, you shouldn't really take this as some sort of victory when you walk down that aisle because if you could possibly name me a wrestling superstar who doesn't give his opponent a moment of his thoughts in the build up to a crucial encounter, then I will name you a wrestler who doesn't care about victory or defeat.

To answer one of your clich�s with yet another clich�, you tried to emphasis my, for want of a better word, normal-ness when it comes to my standing in the world of wrestling. At this point in time, Eric, I am not going to deny that I am at the very bottom of this ladder that is the AWE. You're absolutely right, I am not a Ryan Ford, I am not a Glacier, I am not a Sean Ryken, and I certainly thank Him who is holy that I am not Eric bloody Sin! I am Nathan Kaye, good sir, I am Nathan Kaye. To list the people in this organisation you are not is possibly the oldest trick in the book, straight out of a script from some backwater federation in the Deep South thirty years ago. This just added to my utter dismay but also, ultimately, my entertainment when I first watched that god-awful little show you put on for me recently.

However, you came a strong conclusion as to why you had this contest won a good three days before it actually takes place. To come to such a conclusion and make it stick takes a hell of a lot of evidence my friend, but I was willing to indulge you at this point - you'd given me a wonderful half an hour of entertainment in the build up to your conclusion without really offering any other excuses. When it came to your conclusion - I was completely, thoroughly and absolutely under whelmed. It just added that wonderfully plump, red cherry on top of the ascending pyramid of ice cream. I was going to lose because - oh let me just compose myself - I spent half of my promo talking about Sean Ryken? Oh God. Oh Lord, I'm trying hard here. I'm trying really hard here Eric, please believe me. My mind isn't on the match you say? My mind is on the AWE Rising Star title that Ryken currently holds? Oh, that was the wonderful chocolate sprinkles that decorate the sides of this decadent desert, I assure you.

Eric, my good sir, if my mind is so fixated on that title - which, I add, wasn't at all on the line when it came to me and Ryken's contest last week - and that fact is going to play on my mind in our contest, then that makes you the greatest hypocrite I have had the misfortune of coming into contact with in the wrestling industry. Remind me, Eric, who was the man who made his television debut waxing on about the downfall of our company's champion, Ryan Ford, and continued in his own private air time to spew forth from his orifice about how he will bring about an Eric Sin World Title reign within a matter of time? You'll have to forgive me, I'm simply not following. While we're grappling in the centre of that ring, under the bright lights, with the attention of everyone in that ring and everyone watching at home on television, I will be second best to every wrestling move and hold because of my insatiable thoughts concerning the Rising Star title? OK. So you won't be with that intense desire to try and prove the world you're ready, right now, to contest for the World Title?

Think about what you're saying, Eric. Please. I'm thinking about you here. While I obviously enjoy the prospect of facing an uneducated fool in the middle of the ring, I'm thinking about your credibility too. If you want to rise above me on this ladder, rise above me and those illustrious names you mentioned like Ryken, Glacier, and eventually topple the talented Ms. Ford, then you are simply going to have to be smarter than that.

I'm sure you'll no doubt retort concerning my words by saying that a wrestling match has never, in it's long and illustrious history, ever been won by words and not actions. That is a fair response. But at the same time, I only have to take a look at you, Eric, to see you're simply not talented enough to step into the ring with me. Now, I'm not spring chicken, wrestling-wise, I too am shaking off the cobwebs in my encyclopaedia of wrestling holds and locks but every day I train, every day I jog, those moments bring about old memories and old strategies. To come up against a gentleman who prefers the company of cretins and degenerates like the ones I laid eyes upon in your package rather than researching, thinking, planning...sigh. Eric, if I were a younger man I'd be sulking at having to waste my time with someone like you. My life would be a breeze if I didn't have to deal with plebs like you who like to believe their time at the top should be the be all and end all, that it should be the pinnacle of the business of the whole but can't understand it when their careers reach a halt and they are no longer the darlings of the industry.

Eric, this is not only going to be the first victory in AWE for me, but also a victory for common sense. But how this conclusion has been reached is a lot more concrete and viable than your methods...or should that be madness? If I give you a small length of rope to play with and say that yes, my mind is indeed on higher goals. Whether that be one day coming up against Sean Ryken again, or simply ascending to a respect level behind the belt holders that the AWE has, then so be it. But in your mind, all you can think of is that bloody World Title. It's healthy, Eric, don't worry. The thought of the title is completely healthy for a wrestler, especially one with such a history as you. However, looking at the type of man you are, I simply believe that the hunger for the gold so close to your debut has engulfed you to such a point that supposedly small fry, like yours truly, are going to walk all over you. Thinking of press conferences, and photo shoots, the women, the pay rise - I do hope you're thinking of these things as you drift away thanks to a wonderfully applied hold I like to call Sleeping Pills...

So, my good sir, how do I wrap this up? This is the last you will be hearing of me before we go toe to toe against one another, so I guess it's only fair that I leave you with a parting gift. A few choice words that I hope, as you're preparing for our match, you think of over and over again.

Eric, your achievements in the past, if they are at all reliable and actually true, have been the air that inflates that ego of yours to such a size, then I'm going to be the one that puts the pin in. As as the rapidly deflating Eric Sin propels around the ring, around the arena, around the AWE, I want you to remember that I warned you. I tried to let you know that a beer guzzling hell raiser without an actual iota of wrestling knowledge attempting to step into the ring with an illustriously trained wrestler like me in a properly maintained wrestling contest is a dreadful idea. You're too proud to admit defeat now and in the moments before your music hits on Monday night, I know, and I respect that. But I cannot lie - I do not respect the man, Eric Sin. There is nothing to respect except some convict who's been ignored by the good and right people on society and the only reason I feel obliged to lock horns with you is because of a lucrative contract. Remember the sin of envy, Eric, as you will be feeling it come the end of Monday Night Spectacle...

"See you...in your next life...where we'll fly away...from here..."