Consequences
Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 3:38 pm
**The scene is set in New York. Brooklyn to be more exact. In front of an old, beat up, unlabeled gym. The sliding door is open but with the dim lighting, you can only see vague movements inside with the occasional grunt or clanging metal. Justin Credible is seated outside of the door on a trashcan, leaned forward, staring at the ground.**
Credible: So, Wyatt, it looks like I may have underestimated you. Just a bit. Or maybe it will take an extra week to knock the rust off. In either event, Congratulations! BUT! Do not get used to the feeling of victory when you look across the ring and see my face.
**Justin now slowly stands up and addresses the camera.**
Credible: You were within inches of defeat last Monday. And if you think we are through, you are sadly mistaken. See, I will keep coming back. And back. And back. You gonna have to kill me, Bray, to keep me down, or your going to die trying. And while we are on the topic of dead men, let me get off my topic for a minute, and then I'll get back to you,
**Justin now paces the span of the door, back and forth slowly as his face is deep in thought.**
Credible: Rumor has it that The Undertaker is going to join our party this Sunday. Well, Deadman, if you don't want to truly live up to your nickname, I suggest when your music hits, you lock your door and stay clear of that ring. You don't want to be a casualty of war here. I intend to make an example out of Bray, and trust and believe, you don't want to be exhibit number 2 on my path to the gold. Blood, sweat, and tears are something you get stripped of after all the years you've been doing this. Let's not add your pride and legacy to it!
**Justin now slowly steps into the gym room. The lighting evens out, but it is still very dim. One man is seen off the left, pounding away at a punching bag in gym pants. Another man is further back at the weight bench, alternating between curls and pushups. Justin glances with a smirk before looking at the camera again.**
Credible: Now Bray, I was well aware of your little fan club out there last week. I wish I would have had some pom-poms to hand out to your cheer squad before the match. But see, I can play the numbers game too. When I told you a revolution was on the way, I was talking something big. Something that one man can't do all on his own. I am talking about taking over the EBWF! And you are the roadblock in my way, along with your sidekicks. It isn't a problem though. I am simply went back to the drawing board, regrouped, and now, with my new artillery, we are going to run straight THROUGH that roadblock. Now you are new to this game. So let me introduce you to the man that is one of the best ring technicians you will ever see. The NEW, FUCKING, SHOW, Jerry Lynn.
**Upon zooming in, Jerry Lynn pushed up off the ground to face the camera. Sweating profusely from the workout, he shakes Justin's hand.**
Lynn: This has been a long time coming. Too long now we have watched the new generations of sports entertainment crap on the legacy we left behind. There is no professionalism. When an inbred bunch like the Wyatts is the second best team in this business, there is a serious problem. So it's time to take that lost look out of your eyes, fellas, and focus on the new f'n show. Pay attention and you might learn a thing or two!
**The camera follows Justin as he strolls over to the next man. As the light hits him, you can see the orange stripes on his pants. The towel over his head. And it is clear who he is. Justin says nothing. Just grins, ear to ear, and watches.**
Taz: Welcome home TAZ! That's what people in the neighborhood said to be yesterday when I showed up here at my old gym. What they didn't say is, "How is everything?" or "What are you up to?" You know why? Because they know every time I come back to this place, back to my roots, there are bad motives and worse intentions. They know who I am. They know I miss the sound of a neck cracking by my hands. The bodies going limp as I choke the life out of a human dumb enough to step into my ring. So Harper. Rowan. I am daring you to make that move! MAKE IT. Cause I am Taz! Beat me, if you can! Survive, IF I LET YOU!
**Taz turns and gets back to pounding the bag as Jerry strolls over and stands next to Justin Credible.**
Credible: The end of your chapter here Bray. And the start of ours. Now that wasn't just the best. And that wasn't just the coolest. That was, indeed, JUSTIN, CREDIBLE!
**The camera lens zooms out and we are shown a scene in a living room. Visible is the back of a recliner and the screen is fading on the TV as Justin and Jerry get back to training. A puff of smoke rises from the front of the chair and a voice is heard.**
???: What's this? Nobody thinks to call me anymore? I need some details here.
**A hand comes out from the chair and grabs a phone on the table. After scrolling through the contacts, he hits send on Jerry L. He stands up revealing himself as none other then RVD!**
RVD: Hey bro, whats happening!....I saw, dude....Damn, right I want in!
**He ends the call, and looks at the half smoked joint in his hand.**
RVD: Sorry little buddy. Looks like it's back to business!
**He drops the remainder of his goods in a water bottle and strolls off camera as we fade to black.**
Credible: So, Wyatt, it looks like I may have underestimated you. Just a bit. Or maybe it will take an extra week to knock the rust off. In either event, Congratulations! BUT! Do not get used to the feeling of victory when you look across the ring and see my face.
**Justin now slowly stands up and addresses the camera.**
Credible: You were within inches of defeat last Monday. And if you think we are through, you are sadly mistaken. See, I will keep coming back. And back. And back. You gonna have to kill me, Bray, to keep me down, or your going to die trying. And while we are on the topic of dead men, let me get off my topic for a minute, and then I'll get back to you,
**Justin now paces the span of the door, back and forth slowly as his face is deep in thought.**
Credible: Rumor has it that The Undertaker is going to join our party this Sunday. Well, Deadman, if you don't want to truly live up to your nickname, I suggest when your music hits, you lock your door and stay clear of that ring. You don't want to be a casualty of war here. I intend to make an example out of Bray, and trust and believe, you don't want to be exhibit number 2 on my path to the gold. Blood, sweat, and tears are something you get stripped of after all the years you've been doing this. Let's not add your pride and legacy to it!
**Justin now slowly steps into the gym room. The lighting evens out, but it is still very dim. One man is seen off the left, pounding away at a punching bag in gym pants. Another man is further back at the weight bench, alternating between curls and pushups. Justin glances with a smirk before looking at the camera again.**
Credible: Now Bray, I was well aware of your little fan club out there last week. I wish I would have had some pom-poms to hand out to your cheer squad before the match. But see, I can play the numbers game too. When I told you a revolution was on the way, I was talking something big. Something that one man can't do all on his own. I am talking about taking over the EBWF! And you are the roadblock in my way, along with your sidekicks. It isn't a problem though. I am simply went back to the drawing board, regrouped, and now, with my new artillery, we are going to run straight THROUGH that roadblock. Now you are new to this game. So let me introduce you to the man that is one of the best ring technicians you will ever see. The NEW, FUCKING, SHOW, Jerry Lynn.
**Upon zooming in, Jerry Lynn pushed up off the ground to face the camera. Sweating profusely from the workout, he shakes Justin's hand.**
Lynn: This has been a long time coming. Too long now we have watched the new generations of sports entertainment crap on the legacy we left behind. There is no professionalism. When an inbred bunch like the Wyatts is the second best team in this business, there is a serious problem. So it's time to take that lost look out of your eyes, fellas, and focus on the new f'n show. Pay attention and you might learn a thing or two!
**The camera follows Justin as he strolls over to the next man. As the light hits him, you can see the orange stripes on his pants. The towel over his head. And it is clear who he is. Justin says nothing. Just grins, ear to ear, and watches.**
Taz: Welcome home TAZ! That's what people in the neighborhood said to be yesterday when I showed up here at my old gym. What they didn't say is, "How is everything?" or "What are you up to?" You know why? Because they know every time I come back to this place, back to my roots, there are bad motives and worse intentions. They know who I am. They know I miss the sound of a neck cracking by my hands. The bodies going limp as I choke the life out of a human dumb enough to step into my ring. So Harper. Rowan. I am daring you to make that move! MAKE IT. Cause I am Taz! Beat me, if you can! Survive, IF I LET YOU!
**Taz turns and gets back to pounding the bag as Jerry strolls over and stands next to Justin Credible.**
Credible: The end of your chapter here Bray. And the start of ours. Now that wasn't just the best. And that wasn't just the coolest. That was, indeed, JUSTIN, CREDIBLE!
**The camera lens zooms out and we are shown a scene in a living room. Visible is the back of a recliner and the screen is fading on the TV as Justin and Jerry get back to training. A puff of smoke rises from the front of the chair and a voice is heard.**
???: What's this? Nobody thinks to call me anymore? I need some details here.
**A hand comes out from the chair and grabs a phone on the table. After scrolling through the contacts, he hits send on Jerry L. He stands up revealing himself as none other then RVD!**
RVD: Hey bro, whats happening!....I saw, dude....Damn, right I want in!
**He ends the call, and looks at the half smoked joint in his hand.**
RVD: Sorry little buddy. Looks like it's back to business!
**He drops the remainder of his goods in a water bottle and strolls off camera as we fade to black.**