Eddie Edwards
The Sultan of Sleaze
2
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The scene opens on the face of the one and only Sultan of Sleaze, a slight smirk etched onto the face of EBWF’s brightest young superstar. The camera slowly pans out as we see that Edwards is strolling casually down a corridor, already clad in half of his wrestling attire, that half being his compulsory garish wrestling tights. On the upper half he wears a black vest, positively boring compared to the kind of outfits he normally wears, however it is clear to see that this is some time before the beginning of his match tonight against Alberto Del Rio. The Sultan rolls his shoulders and moves his head from side to side, stretching his neck and alleviating some of the pressure on his muscles. He lets out a deep sigh as he walks, lifting the RayBan’s carefully off of his face to scratch the corner of his eye, before placing them hastily back over his eyes. Eventually he stops outside of a door with his name emblazoned on the front, and smiles as he opens it up and steps inside. Almost as soon as he closes the door behind him, he freezes, before once again pulling the designer shades off of his face and narrowing his eyes in confusion. The camera pans away from Edwards himself to show his former independent tag team partner and RoH World Championship successor Davey Richards sitting calmly on one of the benches leaning up against the wall. Edwards takes a couple of cautioned steps forwards, before a smirk finally emerges upon his face and he walks towards Richards with his arms held out beside him. Richards jumps up to his feet and the two share an embrace, no words being spoken from either man for a few moments as they quietly become reacquainted with one-another. Edwards eventually pulls himself away from Richards and sits down on the bench himself, before breaking the silence.
Eddie Edwards: Dude, what’re you doing here? I thought you were booked on that Pro Wrestling.. Real... Federation... Whatever it is, that new group in Kansas, the stupid little indy-fag outfit.
Richards’ face instantly falls as he takes in the words spoken by his friend, who himself was one of the so called ‘indy-fags’ only a few weeks ago. He drops down onto the bench beside his friend, before glancing across at him forlornly. Edwards shrugs his shoulders, completely unaware of how he could possibly have caused such offense to his friend, before jumping back up to his feet and walking over to the mirror in the room, bored of waiting for Richards’ response. Davey sighs before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, typing a few phrases into the internet browser, clicking a few links until he reaches his chosen page.
Davey Richards: ‘Eddie Edwards is a Professional Wrestler, currently working for global organization, EBWF. He is best known for his technical ability and traditional style, as well as his refusal to change himself to suit larger organizations that have made efforts to bring him in on a permanent contract.’
Eddie stops what he is doing with a sigh, and slowly turns his head towards Richards, both hands in his hair styling his hair-do. His face slowly falls into a frown, and his eyebrows crinkle as he thinks about what Richards has said. Clearly he didn’t expect the visit to be one of such heavy intentions, and it has taken him very much by surprise. He reaches to a nearby towel and wipes the hairgel off of his hands, before walking towards Davey, stopping a few paces away before he speaks.
Eddie Edwards: Is that it? Is that the whole reason you’ve come here today? To be another of those people that I’ve been dealing with for weeks now who’re telling me that I’ve changed, that I’m not what I used to be, that I’m ‘trying too hard’ to impress people? If that’s all you want to do, Bro, then I don’t need you here. I don’t need you to come here before my biggest match so far, and tell me that you don’t agree with what I do now, you don’t agree with who I am or what I’ve become. I’m happy for you to be here if you’re gonna support me and be by my side like friends are supposed to be, but I don’t want you here if all you’re gonna do is talk shit and try and bring me down. I don’t need that right now.
Richards gets up to his feet again and approaches Eddie, who remains standoffish and his stance shifts almost to one which is expecting a fight. Richards holds his hands up, showing his intentions are friendly, and Edwards relaxes slightly, though his glare never shifts from the face of Davey.
Davey Richards: I’m not here to do that, Ed. I’m not telling you you’re wrong for what you’re doing, because who the hell am I to do that? I’m stuck wrestling in some shit-heap of a town while you’re here living the dream! I can’t tell you you’re wrong. But what I can, and WILL do, is tell you that I don’t think you need to do what you’re doing. I think you’re one of the greatest talents available to the industry right now, and you’re trying to show yourself off to be something that you don’t need to be. All of the flash and the glam, that isn’t what you’re about, and you know that just as well as I do. You’re one of the best technicians I’ve ever seen in that squared-circle, and yet you play dirty, you trick the referee and grab the tights when you don’t have to! What is the point of doing that when you know full well you could grab ahold of somebody’s leg, and make them tap out, or pass out. Whichever comes first. I just don’t understand, Ed. You’ve changed, I accept that, and clearly you’ve accepted that. I just don’t think you needed to.
Edwards lets out a sigh, before leaning down and picking up the shades that he dropped on the ground during the confusion earlier on, before placing them back onto his face and making his way over to his gym bag. He reaches inside and begins to get ready for his match whilst continuing to speak to his old friend.
Eddie Edwards: Did you ever think that maybe what I’m doing now is more who I am than what I did before? That stupid quote you got from the internet about not wanting to conform to what a big company wanted just to hit the big time, that’s still true. Nobody told me this is how I had to behave if I wanted to make it here. Not one single person from top to bottom of this company tried to steer me in any kind of direction creatively. This is all me. And nobody seems to be able to get their heads wrapped around the fact that this is more who I am than the boring cookie-cutter technician I used to be. You wanna know something amazing, Davey? I found myself boring. Even Eddie Edwards couldn't face sitting in front of the television and watching an Eddie Edwards match. Because I was stuck doing the same thing every time I went out there, I went into the ring and I put somebody in a hold for a little while and eventually the bastard tapped out. That’s boring, Dave. For the first time in my entire career, I’m actually going out to the ring and not only dominating people in the ring, I’m overwhelming people creatively. Nobody can say that they don’t turn and look when my music hits, nobody can say that what I do out there doesn’t entertain them. And you know what? Sometimes I do grab the tights. Sometimes I do put my feet on the ropes when it comes to a pinfall attempt. But do you wanna know who else did that? Ric Flair. Eddie Guerrero. Owen Hart. Some of the absolute greats of years gone by have done the things I do, and who the hell would you be to tell them they’re doing things they ‘don’t have to‘ or that ‘isn’t them’. For the first time, I’m being true to myself, and I’m having fun. If you don’t like that, feel free to get out of my locker room right now, because I don’t want to hear anymore!
Edwards breathes heavily as he tries to calm down after his rant, sitting himself down on one of his benches with one hand on his forehead in an attempt to prevent himself from sweating anymore. Richards looks across at his former partner quizzically, somewhat surprised at the reaction that was brought forth from within his friend. He walks over to the Sultan again, and sits beside him. He places on hand on the back of his neck in comfort, and nods slowly in appreciation of what Eddie said. His facial expression shows he is still unconvinced though, and he takes his hand away from Edwards after a few moments and speaks again, with a strong degree of certainty in his voice.
Davey Richards: Ed, no matter what you do in this business, I will be your friend. I will be beside you, because we’ve been through a hell of a lot together. But I hope you realize that what you said sounds just as much like you’re trying to convince yourself as it did you trying to convince me. I’ll always love you like a brother, but that doesn’t mean I’m always going to respect you. You have a far higher chance of retaining my respect if you’re yourself, instead of the stupid Sultan of Sleaze bullshit.
Eddie Edwards: How many times do I have to tell you?! This is me!
Finally, Edwards’ frustrations reach boiling point and he lunges at Richards, grabbing him in a headlock as both men tumble to the ground with a thud. He refuses to let go despite Richards’ pleading desperately, his face turning red with anger at the constant ignorance of his guest. He finally releases the headlock but that isn’t the end, and he throws several strong forearms into the face and forehead of Richards, cutting him open below the eye and causing blood to begin trickling down his face. Edwards eventually gets up off of Richards, glaring down at him in frustration for what he’s been saying. He lets out several deep sighs, before the scene is interrupted by a loud knock at the door of his locker room. Edwards sharply turns his head in the direction of the sound, before glancing back down at Richards laying on a heap on the floor. The Sultan votes to ignore his downed friend, and walks across to the door, pulling it open sharply. Before he can even really register who is at the door, he is bundled out of the way by a security guard and two policemen, with the police storming straight across to his gear bag and throwing shirts and whatever else they can get their hands on across the floor.
Eddie Edwards: What they hell are you doing?! Get out of my bag, what’s going on?!
He doesn’t get a response, and the police eventually pull out a spare wrestling boot, before holding it upside-down and causing a small bag of white powder to fall out onto the ground. Edwards looks shocked, as does Richards who has regained his composure as a result of the fracas, and stares at his partner. Edwards’ mouth falls open in sheer disbelief, unable to completely comprehend what is going on.
Eddie Edwards: What the f-... That isn’t mine! I swear to you, I don’t touch that shit, that has nothing to do with me! I don’t know where the hell it came from, you’ve gotta believe me!
With a deep sigh, the policemen pick up the bag and walk towards Edwards, grabbing ahold of his arms and cuffing them behind his back.
Police Officer: Eddie Edwards, we are arresting you on suspicion of Class A Drug possession...
The police officer continues reading Edwards his rights as they lead him out of the room and down the corridor, as the camera fades to black on the complete shock painted across the face of Edwards’ bloodied best friend...