|| Roleplay # : 13 || Record : 04 - 01 - 01 ||
In this business, it's life or death. It can only boil down to one match. One minute. One decision. That's all it can take to make or break your career. It's a cut throat business; you do what you can to survive. If that means screwing over your best friend, then that's exactly what you've gotta' do. To be the best, you've gotta' show ruthless aggression and absolutely no remorse. But it all comes back to one thing. Mentality. If you're mentally fragile then you ain't gonna get anywhere. Take Shane Douglas, for example. Extreme Championship Wrestling. The blood, tears and sweat he shed is beyond your imagination. But he took it - he took it on the chin and he did what he had to. Look where survival got him; several World Championships and a reputation that serves as being one of the best in the industry.
September 21 presents "Call 2 Arms" and for eight men, it's all about surviving. Shane Douglas, Bret Hart, Antonio & Romeo will team up to battle The Rock, The Undertaker, Rosey & The Hurricane. Eight men which all share a common bond. The desire to survive; the will to win. The importance is of great signifiance, for a victory calls for a Title Shot of some sorts. However, on the flip side, a loss could flat out kill any possible opportunity.
Think about it. You've got eight men, four on each side. The Grand Stage - all eyes rest on you. It's the perfect chance for one Shane Douglas to take advantage of the surroundings. He's seen the highs, he's been through the lows. The time to re-gain his status as one of the best has arisen. Last week, Douglas and Edge fought to a No Disqualification. At Call 2 Arms, there WILL be four men with their hands held in victory. Who may that be? Time shall tell but one thing's for sure, surviving calls for desperate men .. And desperate men .. take desperate actions!
The All Pro Wrestling logo scrolls across the screen and the cameras pick up the scene in a pitch black cemetery. A cool breeze sweeps from right to left, as a light drizzle of rain begins to fall. A mysterious atmosphere forms by each second that ticks by on the clock, as the identification of Shane Douglas becomes perfectly clear. He's standing amongst several impressive graves with his body covered in black clothing. Arms crossed; a fire burning within his eyes. The Franchise's intensity is evident.
" Death is inevitable. There is nothing and nobody that can prevent the ultimate tragedy from happening. For some, a certain death can forever re-structure their life in the worst possible way. Whether that be a close friend, a family member .. hell, may even be your Idol you had growing up as a kid. Either way; with death, a life can change. "
Douglas takes a few moments time to gather his thoughts.
" In one particular case, thousands upon thousands of men and women shared the devastation that their beloved Hero was to no longer be seen alive and well. Christopher Reeve; "Superman" ... He was looked upon as an Icon, as an Idol and as an Inspiration for a number of morons across the world. At 52 years of age, Christopher passed away. And let me tell ya', it was about fuckin' time! "
The Franchise flashes an arrogant smirk, and one that we've become well accustomed to.
" Face the facts; Superman lost his powers a long time ago. Each and every last one of you fucking limpwrists have been living in denial for the past twenty years. Christopher Reeve's time in the sun had finished, yet you still were clinging onto the glory years. Superman ain't somethin' I'd put down in the history books. It's more like a flavour of the month, kinda' like half the idiots running around like headless chooks in the business today. Honestly; what the fuck was so appealing about some meat-head saving lives with his metrosexual fucking outfit? Give me a break. Superman was as cheesy as Television got, and as far as I'm concerned, Christopher Reeve six feet under is where the bastard belongs. "
Don't have to look twice to realize that Shane Douglas is all about business, and nothing else. He takes a few steps forwards, looking at one grave in particular. Bunches upon bunches of flowers are stacked up against it, as the camera zooms in on the name. It reads "Christopher Reeve" with "1952-2004" printed directly under it. For a few moments, Douglas is caught glaring at Reeve's Grave. A cold expression planted across his face; a look of hatred, somewhat.
" I've got a pet hate, and that's maggots that attempt to save the world. Whether that be by act or not, Christopher Reeve deserves nothin' more than my SPIT on his grave! But ya' know .. This piece'a shit .. he's got somethin' in common with one of the idiots back in APW. They share the SAME moronic mentality, the same DESIRE .. Ah fuck it, why should I build this limpwrist up for you? He's nothin' but a piece of HORSE shit on my shoe! Its name? The Hurricane .. Oh, and don't forget Rosey. That FAT son of a bitch brings tears to eyes each time he steps into the squared circle, 'cause his wrestlin' is a dead set comedy act! "
For a short period of time, Douglas smirks to himself. He nods his head and he approves of his wording.
" Hurricane, pal - you're not even classified to clean my god damn TOILET let alone put up any hint of a threat in a wrestlin' ring against me. Be honest pal, who are you trying to kid? Who are you trying to impress? There's not a sane man nor woman alive that can give you even the slightest of chances, because the truth is - you ain't GOT any. There IS no two ways about this; I'M The Franchise. I'M the one who makes the big bucks. I'M the one that wins Championship Gold! What do you do Hurricane? Pretend you can fucking fly? Help some old ugly bitch across the road? Let me break it down to ya' REAL simple, so that even a mind like yours can comprehend. At Call 2 Arms, you AIN'T gonna be flyin' around the ring and usin' Super Powers like off some fucking Nintendo game. This is PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING ... and you're gonna be standin' face to face with the best out of 'em all, son. There's gonna be NO Way Out and only ONE direction your ass'll be headin'. If ya' haven't caught the picture yet Superhero, I suggest you pack your bags and get the HELL outta here because you're standing in the wrong line. "
The sheer thought of Douglas having to compete against The Hurricane is obviously not sitting all too well.
" You're the curtain jerker of the business pal. You open the show, you give people a laugh. That's what you're there for. Along with Rosey, you're there for the sole reason this company is gettin' worse. Entertainment. The dignity of this sport has been raped to its near death and it's because of people like you Hurricane. People who can't wrestle for jack SHIT but can throw on a Superhero Outfit and pretend to be able to fly. It sickens me deeply, for I grew up with one desire. To wrestle. I didn't grow up wanting to be surroudned by a bunch of clowns in a business I ate, slept and breathed on. From day one I told the world that I'd be the saviour. That I'd erase the trash and re-store some RESPECT! It started with Frankie Kazarian and it ain't about to stop at Call 2 Arms. For years upon years, I've proved my worth. And for what? To wrestle The Hurricane? To wrestle Rosey? You've gotta' be kidding me. What've they done to suggest they've earnt such an opportunity? The Hurricane and Rosey are the LAUGHING stock of this business for fuck sake. You've got a guy built like a god damn twig .. No muscle .. No brain. All he knows is that he believes that he's some kinda' fucking Superman. And Rosey? Jesus christ, HIS Three Minutes were up YEARS ago! "
Douglas takes another look down at Christopher Reeve's grave. He grins arrogantly which eventually evaluates to a chuckle. He collects up an incredible amount of saliva, and spits it right onto the printing of Reeve's name on the Grave. The camera zooms in, showing the spit trickling down.
" Fuck Reeves. His objective was to draw attention to himself by being a "Hero". Take a good look Hurricane, and tell me, is the bastard much of a hero now? Because you're heading down the exact same pathway. You WANT to save lives and you WANT to be a Hero. But there's a difference. Chris' was an act. Yours isn't. At least that son of a bitch KNEW, that when the cameras were off him, he was normal. He couldn't fly and he DAMN sure couldn't prevent the world from all of its attrocities. But you? For some odd reason, you've got it penciled into your brain that you actually ARE a Superhero. And ya' know, for most, it makes 'em laugh. But me? That's a different story pal. You thinkin' you're somethin' you aren't pisses me off. It gives me an incentive to put an END to your childish bullshit .. because this is NOT a game despite you and Rosey treating it like one. There's an aim; it's to be the best. It's to leave a mark on this business like none other has before. Quite frankly, you and Rosey ain't EVER gonna do that. The best you can hope for is sweepin' floors - but don't get me wrong, I ain't willing to put a bet on that one. (Douglas Laughs) Call 2 Arms is meant to be about surviving. For you and Rosey, it's about being in the WRONG league .. It's about getttin' your asses "
Shane Douglas takes one last glance down at Christopher Reeve's grave. He smirks and shakes his head from side to side, out of pure disgust. Moments later, the scene fades to black.
