OOC: Ben gave me his blessing by allowing Chris Irvine in this roleplay, enjoy! Good Luck Nero, sorry for the rust.
Backstage in the Time Warner Arena, the EBWF crew worked nonstop to get the show going. Crates with props being moved left and right, catering, the ring and barriers being set up in the center of the stage… A red Trucker cap covering his mocha scruffy hair, a black RAMONES T-shirt leaving two thirds of his tattooed arms exposed, black denim pants and white Chuck Taylor sneakers. He approached perhaps the only familiar face he had seen in his time backstage.
CM Punk: Man, I don’t even know who I should talk about anything anymore around here.
Chris Jericho: Well, the whole Internet told you to get your ass off your couch in Chicago for a reason… First you lose track of coworkers, bosses, then birthdays and finally: Casual fridays.
Punk looked down at his attire.
CM Punk: For me, casual Fridays are everyday which ends with the letter Y.
Chris Jericho was wearing a similar attire, a black Fozzy T-shirt, denim pants and black shoes.
Chris Jericho: I can’t blame you… I haven’t been happier since I stopped wearing a tie. That was nowhere in my interim CEO contract. Anyway, who are you looking for?
CM Punk: You’re not CEO anymore? What a drag! This means our match is not for control of the EBWF?
Jericho smiled and shook his head.
CM Punk: I was just… Wondering about my next opponent.
Chris Jericho: Undertaker? I sometimes guess Wes has too much money to spare…
CM Punk: You mean how they appear in EBWF and disappear within weeks? Those contract terminations must be costy!
Chris Jericho: Did you know Wes hired Brodus Clay literally because his kid loved him?
CM Punk: I’ll cross my fingers so they don’t hate me, at least not much. Do you think they’re giving him the ball?
Chris Jericho: The Undertaker running rampant in EBWF? You never know.
CM Punk: I wonder if this match against the Undertaker was booked for me to put him over.
Chris Jericho: What makes you think that?
Punk shrugged.
CM Punk: It’s just what I’ve been doing as of late. I just wanted to tell whoever booked me against The Undertaker that getting a good match out of him usually requires months of training and preparation. This guy is wrestling week in and week out…
Jericho shrugged.
Chris Jericho: Midlife Crisis?
CM Punk: I thought Midlife crisis was getting a tattoo at age 50.
Chris Jericho: I’m 44, jerk.
CM Punk: I guess I’ll go out there and guide the old man’s hand as he balances through the ropes, tombstones me and pins me with his eyes whited up and his tongue stuck out disgustingly. It’ll be my turn, eventually. Plus, we got some pretty interesting things going on.
Chris Jericho: If we drag it long enough we can go for a Survivor Series classic match!
CM Punk: Haven’t we done that before?
Chris Jericho: It has become a yearly tradition. Tell you what, if Undertaker is around by November, I'll buy you a dri... Oh.
CM Punk chuckled.
CM Punk: Also, has there been any memo regarding Monday? Anything regarding a tribute to Roddy?
Chris Jericho: Yeah, we're allowed to go and I quote "as Rowdy as we can get", everything goes... The idea is to give him the sendoff of a king... Why, did you have any ideas?
CM Punk: Yeah, I don't see myself knocking Undertaker out with a sleeper hold. I could throw an eye rake here and there, and the occasional jab... It won't matter much if Undertaker is going over anyway. The only thing that really bugs me is the absolute lack of build up for this match, specially against someone like the Undertaker.
Chris Jericho: Just hang in there, you'll get the grasp of everything eventually. Hiatuses are more than necessary... You don't have to have a wife and kids to decide you want time off. While it's true that there has been no build up to the match, you can always work something out.
CM Punk: You know what? I might just do that. Hey, I guess you're not so bad after all... You know, for stealing my catchphrase and using it on your book.
Punk said as he patted Jericho in the back.
CM Punk: You wanna be Alfred to my Bruce Wayne?
Chris Jericho: I'm only like 8 years older than you dammit. Also, my book is not named "It's Clobberin' time"
XXX
"I’ve always been odd one of the bunch. Dying my hair red, yellow, you name it, having a COBRA tattoo on my deltoid and a PEPSI logo on the other. I grew knowing I was not going to have a normal adulthood, a normal life. Sure I’ve had my issues with coworkers, with women, but who hasn’t?
Called Asocial, Antisocial, Dick, Asshole by some… Called ‘The worst thing that ever happened in my life’ by others…
You could say it sucked to be me, right?
Wrong. Wrong. WRONG.
Growing in a world filled with people who settle down for whatever they are told to believe in, fetching whatever goals they are told to pursuit… A world designed to marginate and corner people like me, pitchforks, torches and all… I can’t say growing like that was easy, but something, or to be more precise ‘someone’, made it all worthwhile.
When people talk about their motivations, their idols and what brought them into the business, some talk about Hulk Hogan, others talk about Steamboat, Macho Man, Warrior, Dusty Rhodes… Not me.
I was drawn by a trash talking maestro in a kilt. He was different, he was hated, loathed and he still could cope with it.
The man who made me believe I could be in his place one day, the place I am standing on right now, is gone to a better place. But his memory will always be in my mind, his moves tattooed in my retinae, his trash talking forever in my ears.
Thank you Roddy, this one is for you.”
XXX
CM Punk's voice trailed off in the darkness before his scruffy bearded face appeared in front of a dangling lightbulb which balanced slowly above his head. The faint light emitted from the bulb illuminated his inked naked torso. Scottish printed red trunks in memory of Roddy Piper, scottish printed knee pads and elbow pads. His bandaged arms with 'Xs' folded over his chest as he pressed his tongue against his lip ring.
CM Punk: First and foremost, I ought to make a warning to each and every single Straightedge Society disciple: Beware of false prophets and their seductive ways! They sometimes conceal themselves very well... Either behind ballooning silicone bossoms, neon colored shirts, unbearable amounts of baby oil... The list goes on and on! but tonight I am here to shed some light upon the latest Rogue who raised in arms against my noble cause, your noble cause... That one of a world free from mind numbing and body destroying toxins. This man I am talking about is pretty skilled at deceiving, his cheap conjuring of tricks having won him many battles in his time. But today in an era of enlightenment, discipline and cleanness of mind... His efforts solely pass as cheap magician knock offs. It is only natural, when you are a lighthouse of wisdom and righteousness, you have the power to see through fog, lies, and trickery.
Punk shrugged and smiled.
CM Punk: I guess that's another benefit of being a follower of the Straightedge society... A Straightedge man has conquered all kinds of demons, there is no space for Fear inside a Straightedge man's mind, for he has all the tools to bring himself above that fear, a Straightedge man is completely indestructible! Sure, sticks and bones might break his bones... But his will is brass-bound. Soldiers of the Straightedge Society! There is nothing to fear when you are with me.
Punk spreaded his arms and tilted his head back, basking in his greatness before looking at the camera again.
CM Punk: Common men, men who still indulge in the banal pleasures of ingesting toxins to escape reality: You are Feeble, pathetic, Superstitious and Coward... Your judgment is blinded, making you unaware of realizing the unlimited amount of power you hold within your hands... Instead, you opt to bestow such amazing power upon a constellation of made-believe stories. Men rather be scared about things they can wrap their minds around, than facing them eye to eye. Somewhere down the line, someone understood fear's infinite power of subduing and belittling an otherwise powerful race. For ages men have cowardly ran from armies, weapons, hell... Even folk tales and legends. Crippled, stunned, by their irrational fears... Just like Cavemen were chased by other cavemen wielding bigger clubs an Indians were chased by civilized men with guns in their power... My opponent tonight knows how to work these deeply ingrained fears within our existences... Or so he claims.
Punk mockingly whited his eyes up, before staring at the camera.
CM Punk: The Undertaker, the deadman. A man who has utilized fear as his primary weapon to break down his opponents. The american hero, the Cerebral Assassin, The Killer... Men who have been brought to their knees, trembling, fearing for their own lives. Pathetic. The Undertaker is committing a deadly mistake if he plans to put CM Punk in the same level as the rest of his victims... I hate to break it to you "Deadman", but there is not a single ounce of fear within my body... There is no room for fear when you walk home from school to see your abusive drunk father take his frustration on the rest of your family... When your brother robs you of your hard earned pay after honest work... I have been living hell on earth all my life... So I think I'll do alright against a seven foot gothic piece of garbage like yourself. You are truly, undoubtedly a dead man... Allow me to elaborate.
Punk rubbed his forehead, as if trying to conform his argument.
CM Punk: You're what... 60? No? Well, you look 60. I guess 60 is a good age to be taken to school, bub. You're not fooling anyone with your hat, your black clothes and those cheap ass special effects... At least nothing more than putting a cheap show for gullible people watching at home and in this arena. You don your Deadman costume, you speak using terms most of these people find intimidating -Granted, most of them would never set foot on college, you threaten with harvesting souls... Am I the only one seeing the big picture here? A guy who is over the hill by a mile, whose career is buried, who is nothing but a walking, talking reminder of the 'Good ol' Days', The man who beat Ric Flair when it came to "Calling it a day and hanging his boots". Undertaker, you keep going, you keep reaching out to your cute little bag of trickery and deceit... Which by the way worked wonders with Hideo Itami last week. So let me get this straight... You walk in here three months too early for halloween, you get your sorry ass handed to yourself by a man half your size and almost half your age... You make a fool out of yourself... IN AN OPENING MATCH, and you have the audacity to dust yourself off and say I am your next victim... And by Victim I mean you either don't know the meaning of the word 'Victim' or your winning strategy is to headbutt me right in the knee after I toss you over my shoulders. I guess the only way to make your cold, almost dead fingers get over my Roddy Piper tribute boots is to teach you a lesson... A lesson that everyone has failed to teach you... Simply put because they allowed themselves into your puny little game of scare tactics. You don't scare me, Taker. At least your leather trench coat and hat don't... You're not half the man you used to be: You're slow, erratic, tired, unbearably repetitive... And you can't hide that under a hat or a costume, you can use all the smoke you want... You can't hide the fact that your time has long gone. You're nothing but nostalgia, here to remind us of what you were once, but not anymore.
Punk scoffed.
CM Punk: Are you surprised? Did you expect me to unmask you before the EBWF Universe? To unveil your deepest and darkest secret? That the man who vows to take other's lives is nothing but an old man who fears his time is almost done? Well, to me that is just the beginning... After pointing out how much of a fraud the Undertaker and his mind games are, it will be time to break the Phenom, limb by limb, bone by bone, until he begs me on his knees to put him out of his misery. But you don't stop there... It is my social responsibility as the Savior of mankind to protect my herd from false prophets... There is only one way to make that veil come off these poor, lost souls who cheer and actually believe in him.
The light in the room slowly lit up to reveal a familiar looking casket, sitting right in front of the Straight Edge Savior, clad in scotch printed trunks.
CM Punk: And that is absolutely leaving no trace from his existence on this world, the one I have come to save with my bare hands. You have brought this on yourself, Undertaker. You picked a man with a mission as your target, a man out of your league and soon you turn from hunter to hunted... However, I think Hideo Itami made that pretty clear last week. I am going to make you regret the moment you decided to come to EBWF and show your ugly mug, and planned to deceive my herd into plain stupidity and nonsense. Because let's be serious for a moment. If we are going to talk about deities, about people chosen by a superior power to do their bidding on Earth... And By superior power you know I am referring to the Almighty Thor... Who would Thord pick? A man who cowards behind special effects that would make Sharknado movies actually believable? Or a disciplined visionary with a clean body, a clean mind and a clean soul to keep balance amongst Earthlings?
Punk paused briefly, making his smile clarify that was a rhetorical question.
CM Punk: Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Time is running out. Tricks are running out. Your bluff has been called... You've been fully exposed as the "Dead Career Man" you really are. You might think gripping onto my ankles for five minutes of fame might be what your career needs, that tiny little boost. Yeah, you might never be as high on the card ever again. But you're wrong. Wrong again Undertaker... Wrong like the moment you chose to step in MY domains, wrong like the moment you unceremoniously put yourself at my level, wrong like the moment you called me out, because the moment you call me out is the moment I will END your career... Where everyone else has failed, I will triumph, I will put your career where it belongs... Just like your little comfy bed right here.
Punk reached under the casket to drag out a yellow container before he started pouring liquid all over the casket. Punk would follow by lighting up a match and setting the Casket ablaze. The torched wood crisped slowly before CM Punk as he chuckled.
CM Punk: Rest. In. An Asylum, a retirement home, or whatever.
CM Punk mockingly whited his eyes out and folded his arms in an X as the scene faded to black.
