Post by shanomacbry on Aug 24, 2009 14:34:17 GMT -5
[The following roleplay has been paid for... by the Hoff World Order.]
[... oh, and it's also culled from various rp's from the past ten years. Lil' bit of Reeve Gordon, lil' bit of raYne... maybe some Jasper McGravyTrain, who the hell knows.]
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- Your screen is black. Yet you hear a voice... a familiar voice... a disenchated voice. -
- A voice of disgust... at the idiocy of today's world... and the carelessness of its inhabitants. -
- Your screen is black... yet not void. You hear a voice... and this is what it has to say. -
"Heather Storm. The woman that came so close to becoming MCW World's champion... only to have it savagely ripped out of her hands by a man with half a peanut for a brain. Heather... we've never crossed paths. Yet I feel as though we have so much in common. We both have had a love for Callisto... we both have known what it feels like to hold gold for the first time... we've both traveled miles upon miles across this nation for the betterment of many of the greatest promotions this business has to offer... we've BOTH come within inches of shining as the pinnacle of the sport, only to have it taken away in the blink of an eye by someone so far below us we can't even see them without the aid of a telescope... and most importantly, and something you've pointed out yourself..."
[camera opens to Reeve sitting backwards in a wooden chair, with one leg on either side, arms folded atop the chair's back.]
"... We've BOTH been screwed over by that shovel-shoving, Home-Depot card-carrying, idiot among idiots himself... Mike Johnson."
[Reeve finishes this sentence and looks down at the wooden floor... before lifting his head slightly, just enough to let us see the wicked glint in his eye, and the sinister smirk on his face. The room Reeve is sitting in is barren, except for the wooden chair and floor. The room is cast in an eerie, pale glow, and Reeve does nothing to help ease the darkness which inhabits this place. 'The Show' is wearing no shirt, no shoes, no wig. Just his short, plain, jet black hair with spiked tips, and a pair of black leather pants. His hands are accentuated with black fingernails as well as a pair of spiked wrist bands, his lips are painted with ice blue lipstick, and around his neck is the crystal dragon pendant he's carried with him for ages. Reeve's eyes hide behind a pair of pure white contacts, as if his pupils are rolled deep into the back of his skull. And beside the wooden chair, there lies the one thing that remains from Reeve's past beside the pendant and Tony... the black baseball bat. The very same one that led to his win at BWA Thankskilling, and the World Heavyweight Title that went along with it. His first match... and he walked out the top dog.]
[Scrawled across the chair's back is the word 'Truth' in black spraypaint. The very word that has been the driving force for 'The Show' for the last few months, heading toward the eventual fork Reeve has written poem after poem about. A fork that could lead to his ultimate success... or failure. One decision that must be made, and that has spawned hours upon hours of writing and reflection from our hero. That decision?]
"Do I stay on the path to the World title... or do I stay on the path to my vengeance upon Johnson. Ever since I arrived, I've been stuck between two roads, without a compass, without an atlas. Without... a tour guide."
"Until now."
"I've found my guide. And her name... is Storm. Heather, I know how bad you want that World title. And in the grand scheme of things, you haven't really had a chance. I mean, nobody thought you had a chance going into Heatwave... and on some level you proved them right. BUT. Along the way, you also proved that you did have what it takes to compete on the big stage. It was a triple cage match, just like the first match I competed in. And you were THIS close to doing now just as I did back then, and upsetting the critics' predictions by going home with the game's richest prize. But then... there was Crusher. The big oaf who had no right to leave with that strap. All he did was hang onto the cage for a couple of lousy minutes, and after you had given your all, he attacked you from behind and tossed you. He blindsided you, Heather. If you ask me, the man's a chickensh!t. He did nothing more than take advantage of a REAL champion's shining moment. He's a bast@rd. He's a coward. And the worst thing about it is... Our chairman is doing absolutely nothing about it. He's not even giving you a d@mn one-on-one match. A fair fight. A fight where you can SEE Crusher coming at you... instead of being caught off guard by a mindless monster twice your size and three times your girth... but HALF your ability, and nowhere near the charm, charisma, intellect, or beauty of you."
"No, Mike "The MYTH" Johnson did nothing about the travesty that occured on the 30th of July. It's been over a month now, and he's STILL done nothing. Now, Mike books Crusher in a NON-TITLE match... against a STABLEMATE! If you think even for one second that Mr. Vampire-pants is going to go easy on his pal Crushie-Wushie... you're absolutely right. My prediction? Vlad does the j-o-b to Crusher in less than ten minutes, successsfully 'passing the torch'. Atleast, until Crusher's little stint with the gold is over, and he's ready to hand it back over to the man the Big Crush sucked up to for month's on end just so he could keep the title. Yeah, that's right. Because you all want in on a little secret? If Vlad REALLY wanted that title right now? I mean REALLY wanted that title? He'd snap Crusher's neck in half a second. *snaps fingers* Just like THAT. But Crusher has kissed up and kissed @ss, and he's achieved the position of being the only man Vlad's willing to ALLOW to hold the belt if they somehow, someway manage to steal it from the Blood Clod's grasp. Well, besides Dark Demon. But who knows when the hell THAT guy will show up."
"Vlad knows it, Crusher knows it. Hell, the whole WORLD knows it. Crusher stumbled upon the gold. The gold Vlad claims as his own. And if Crusher had been any other man, Vlad would have pounced upon him in a heartbeat... Now, if I was the man that walked away from Heatwave with the title, I would b!tchslapped the taste out of Vlad's mouth... but that's beside the point. Crusher won. Heather DESERVED to win... but Crusher won. And BECAUSE he won, Vlad was willing to let it slide. At A.D., Vlad'll lay down for Crusher, forcing the people to believe that Crusher is worthy of the championship in his possesion. This will, in turn, make Vlad's little hobbled-together 'Alliance' seem all the more strong, and when the time is right, Crush will repay Vlad's kindness, and the fact that he didn't tear him a new hole for the gold, with a quick and painless title drop. Really, it's a marvelous plot guys, it really is. But it's so thinly veiled a blind man could see it. And the Truth is... there are better men that deserve that title more than the both of you combined. And one of those men...is a woman."
"Heather... not only did you bust your @ss in that match, you fought the naysayers that told you and the rest of the women in this business that they can't make it as a World's champion. I know that feeling, Heather. I've been dealing with the names for years now... 'f@g'... 'queer'... 'pillow-biter'... And although they're only names, they still hurt. Why? Because they're some of the most vicous, painful words a human mouth can utter. Especially the mouth of a father... But that aside, people look down on those they don't understand. And the human race tramples those that get in their way, even if those that get in their way are only trying to have their voices heard. Mike Johnson, just like the Alliance, are like that. They disregard anyone's voice but their own. Vlad and his pals SAY they no longer associate with Johnson, but the Truth is, as long as a man wants what someone has, that man will help him. Mike wants that World title in his camp... Vlad wants to rule this company. Crusher wants a moment in the spotlight, and Vlad wants to boost his stable's position in the fed. So you can see why there would be motive there for a hand helping another, and one event leading to another. Heather, I may hate to say it, but it's True; I'm human. And so are you. We both want the title, and we both want to get our revenge on Johnson for screwing us over. The only problem is... We can't BOTH walk away from American Dream with the gold."
"Ever since I stepped into this company, I've been ranting about becoming 'Born Again'. But really... what do those words mean? To XAW [yeah, that's right, I'm not afraid to say it], it's just a way to rake in cash on ppv buyrates. To the Christian Religion, it's the reward given for faithful service on this Earth. And for the last several weeks, to me, it's been nothing but another gimmick. But in the end... something's got to give. There can be no more gimmicks. There can be only... Truth."
"And the Truth is... there is no Born Again. There ARE no second chances. There is only one life to live, and once it's over, you have experienced it all. I had my chance at Alexis... and I blew it. I had a chance at the XAW Cruiserweight title. Blew that. Had a shot for the MCW World title at Heatwave... blew that too. Point is, once something's gone, it's gone for good. Heather, your chance for the MCW Championship comes Sunday. Now, Johnson can see what you've done. How much blood you've poured into that ring.... how much blood you shed on all three levels of that structure at Heatwave... and he can totally disregard it all. And then, to top it off... he compares you to Callisto. Heather, you're not in Calli's league. ... You're way, way, WAY beyond that. Callisto is to you as Jeff Hardy is to Christopher Daniels. Hardy tries to be 'extreme' by ruining his body by tossing himself through tables and wrecking his mind by covering his face in paint [no telling how many of his brain cell's that stuff's killed]. Whereas, CD is a TRUE athlete, with not only the greatest mic skills in TNA, but the greatest X-Division talents in the world. Heather... you are real, just like CD. Calli is a fraud, and you deserve so much more than her. You deserve to be with someone that cares about your desires to be the greatest. Calli? When she was with Scotty, she never believed he would walk away with the belt. She always thought it was HER destiny to be the one in that couple to becoem champion. And between you and me? She thinks the same of you. As long as you're together, she'll TELL you that she loves you. She'll TELL you that she cares. Hell, she'll TELL you just about anything just to get you into the sack. But the Truth is, as soon as she gets some gold around her waist, she'll forget about you faster than she did Scotty. But me? I'll be up front with you. I don't want to be with you like Calli does. I already have Tony for that. All I want is a chance for a mutual relation. You want the World title? I'll be in your corner every time you step in that ring. All I ask in return is help in my mission to bring down Johnson. You deserve revenge, just as I do, and together, vengeance would be ours."
"I want you to seriously think about this Heather. I don't care if you like Callisto, I don't care if you like NFH, hell, I don't care if you like to do the hooky-hooky at the Hooky-Hooky Lou... whatever that means. All I care is that you hate Dark Alliance, and you have reason to hate Johnson. And those are the only two reasons I need..."
"For a very beautiful friendship. Think about it Heather... and get back to me. Ciao."
[Reeve smiles at the camera, and pops his neck to both sides, before departing from view... leaving the camera to stare at the chair, and it's lone message...]
'believe'
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Challenge... F*CKIN'... Met
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I've come to the fork in this long traveled road
I've seen many things, but I know now where I go
I thought I wouldn't make it, but the time has come
The decision is made, and the path is done
You thought you would deceive me, by steering me from my goal
But noone will, and that is that, it's time to take my role
In the future of this business. Reeve Gordon is on track
My mission is now clear...
Reeve F*CKIN' Gordon's back.
* * * * *
[When one door closes... another one opens. So the saying goes. Many of the MCW superstars have had to deal with their fair share of doors ever since the re-opening of this company... but none so many as our intrepid hero, Reeve. Having love torn from his heart, and gold ripped from his hands, Reeve has born the hatred of all who step into this federation. From those in the hallowed hall of fame, to the lowliest of preliminary competitor. From the janitors manning their brooms and dust pan, to the Man himself, Mike Johnson. A company of enemies, that would like nothing more than to be rid of Reeve, once and for all.]
[Yet through it all, Reeve has stood tall, albeit changing course almost every day of the week. Three months has he been here, with one goal still intact; To seek revenge upon those he believes were behind the seperation of him and what he thought to be rightfully his... The XAW World Cruiserweight Title. Whether it be Vlad, for causing him to worry more about a Forest than the strap, Triksta, for being, in Reeve's eyes, the biggest disgrace to the title in company history, or Johnson himself, for, if nothing else, laughing at Reeve just as so many others had done in his life, and wrecking havoc with Reeve's mind.]
[But now... months later, and a full year after being fired from XAW for, among other things, mental incapabality, Reeve is finally at a crossroads. Johnson... or title. Johnson... or title. Mike Johnson, the president of MCW, has been that unreachable itch on Reeve's back ever since the Show stepped foot in the promotion. A wound that has felt no relief, and has been filled with salt every time Mike books another xtreme, super crazy, barbedwire, thumbtack explosive, stunt-devil, razor-cage, Japanese deathmatch of doom. But on the flip side of the coin... that elusive World's championship. The pinnacle of the business... the very thing superstars die for, and men spend every sleeping hour dreaming of... every waking moment fighting to achieve, facing their fears, and bleeding until not a drop remains to be shed.]
[On one side... an enemy. On the other... immortality. Both, sure to be wars. Both, sure to lead to as many losses as success, but ultimately a victory unparralleled. But in the end, in less than 12 hours, a choice must be made, and a path MUST be chosen. For if Reeve is truly to ever become the great superstar he once dreamed to be... and had always wished to prove to his dad he COULD be... then he must know in which direction he will be going. The year's end draws near, and the time to step up is coming closer than it has ever been before. Tomorrow night, many men, and women, will step into the ring. But ultimately, only one will have the honor to face Crusher the show after. And Reeve's chances, despite what he would hope, are quickly dwindling...]
* * * * *
"10 hours away... A battle royale... with every man, woman, and, well, you know the joke floating around here. Funny thing is... I'm not laughing. That's all I am to you people, though... a joke. Someone to poke fun at in some quick zinger, and then forget about for another month. I'm sure countless of you are going to fast-forward through this promo... those that tune in at all. Mock me for my love for Tony, ridicule me for my obsession over some jungle named the raYne Forest, and flip past the rest. Sure, maybe if I make fun of one or two of you you'll tell me how much of a pathetic waste of flesh and bone I am, tell me to stick to jerking the curtain like a good little soldier, and then move on as though the discussion never even took place. I've asked some of you in the back to help me, yet you ignore me like the plague. And then when I speak of a revolution... the only result is another target for your jokes."
"I could stand here today, a handful of hours before the big dance, and just ramble on about how the revolution IS happening... but you won't believe me. And besides... talk is cheap. The time now is for action. I've heard your call, Vlad... asking me to prove to you, once and for all, that I'm more than just a big mouth slapped onto a big head. You want me to prove I have a spine? You want me to prove that I'm not afraid of doing something, no matter the repercussions? Then Vlad... consider that challenge met."
[Reeve smiles... a sick, twisted, demonic smile.]
"I stand before a building now... a building you're quite familiar with. Well.... atleast... you should be. But me? I am..."
[The camera pans out, and we can see that Reeve is standing before... the Ford Center? Well, we now know the first arrival... How's that for being early? But why 3 o'clock in the morning?]
"See Vlad... this place... it's held alot of memories for me... some good... some bad. But one rises above them all. It is in this very arena that I won my first World's Heavyweight Championship... in my first match. Clad in the black trench and Sting face paint, I defeated two men that night. In front of a thunderous hometown crowd... My people. The people I grew up with..."
"Thing is, they hated my guts just as much as every d@mn person in that lockeroom did in BWA... and just as you here in MCW. I've asked myself for such a very long time... why do people find it so easy to loathe me? As soon as I was late one night at work, Alexis cheated on me with a circus jester. My father disowned me for finding out about my love for Javex Valerius. And the dragon himself couldn't stop himself from laughing at the thought of a man finding him attractive. Why did these people hate me? Why do you, the viewer hate me? It's simple... you're jealous. You're ALL jealous... of me. And the fact that I can BE me without being ashamed. Every gimmick I pass through? Every "phase" I broadcast for the world eyes? Sure, they may be masks, as I've said before. But these masks are shards of a bigger mirror. A reflection of my inner self. I've not afraid to be who I am on any given day, and be it to its utmost potential. Sure, sometimes I lose focus. But that's the great thing about Reeve Gordon. He goes where he wants to, when he wants to, no matter what the outside world is telling him. I don't listen to anyone's desires but my own. But now... I do have a mission. See... heh, I've broadened my outlook a bit if you will. Where once I thought only of revenge upon those that took away my title... now?"
"I seek my revenge upon the world."
"This city... hell, this whole state could careless if I've made it in the wrestling business. They never cared for me and they never will. Because I'm a homosexual. Because I'm a goth. And because, basically, I'm different. But in 2 weeks, when that idiotic band march "Boomer Sooner" blares over the speakers, they'll be on their feet ready to welcome that fat, ugly, disgusting redneck b@stard "Good Ol'" Jim Ross. When in reality? Who's the one that busts his @ss week in and week out? Who bleeds across the canvas for those buffoons? You know the answer to that just as well as I do. But who will be getting the admiration? Mr. Slobberknocker himself. Maybe if I ended every sentence with the words "By Gawd" I'd start getting respect, who the hell knows..."
"Point is, these people are nothing to me. This is the same state that, when my father slept on his wife with a 19 year old, gave custody of me to the adultering b@stard. This is the same state in which I was suspended for a month for kissing another guy in the hall, while letting him off scott free. How ironic that guy just so happened to be the principal's son, eh? And oh, let's not forget. In this same arena, after I won that world title, in my FIRST match, against TWO men... I expected a celebration from the crowd. But did the Okies cheer for me? Did they even give a polite golf clap? No."
"Dead. Silence."
"But that's not what you expect tomorrow, is it Mikey J? Nah... you expect a packed house. You expect smiling faces and cheers from floor to balcony... and you expect money. Cold... hard... cash. And what do your stars expect? Well, for starters, the boys in the US-TV title tourney expect to go one round deeper. But where am I on that first round, Mikey? Oh, yeah, that's right... you forgot about me. You forgot that when the Big Crush was handing out envelopes, one of those invites just so happened to sail my way. You forgot... that's ok, no harm, no foul. Then, Claudia expects to reclaim her title. The title she believes Calli stole from her. While Calli expects to rule the cage, successfully defend against the gothic beauty, and prove to Griffy that he's found himself a catch. That is... until she moves on to the next timeshare. But anyway... Vlad and Crusher expect to put on the match of the night, and prove what the Dark Alliance is all about. And of course, every man and woman in this company is hoping... wishing... praying to walk out of that royale the winner. And they expect to move on as #1 Contender to the richest prize in the game."
"But sometimes... we just don't get what we expect... do we? So, for every stone face in that crowd... for the teacher that barred me from the school for being something he was afraid to admit existed... for my father... for Alexis... and for everyone watching this at this very moment ... wait... do I smell... smoke? What could that ever be..."
[Reeve turns around, and sure enough, the Ford Center is ablaze! He turns his head around toward the camera, and feigns shock.]
"Who could have EVER done such a horrible thing at such a ghastly hour? I mean... it couldn't be me... could it?"
[Reeve smirks, and turns back toward the now raging inferno, and begins to take a few steps in the flames direction... before a siren is heard and blue and red lights can be seen. A horde of cops walk in front of him, while a group of firefighters rush to put out the blaze.]
Cop: Sir, is this yer doing? Cuz if it is, yer gonna have to come with us.
Cop#2: And by the looks ah things... it's gonna have to be for a long, looong time...
Reeve: Why, whatever do you mean? I was just standing here, minding my own business, when...
Voice from off camera: I'll tell you who did it.
[The cops look toward the voice, and the camera moves as well... discovering the grinning face of none other than Tony Spaghetti. And next to him? One of the greatest legends in XAW history... Crimson. The two men put their hands out, ready for arrest.]
Tony: Come on, we haven't got all day.
Crimson: *singing to himself* I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie wor-hur-hurld...
Reeve: Sooo... does that answer your question?
Cop #1: Well... I guess. But I guess we're going to have to cancel the big pig show and square-dancing competition...
Cop #2: I was really lookin' forward tah gettin' tah second base with Cousin' Betty-Sue...
Cop #1: HEY! Betty-Sue was MY date, she's on MY side ah the family!
Reeve: Ok, men, thanks for doing your job, I've got a promo to finish.
[As the police officers argue over their cousin, Reeve turns to Tony and Crimson, and gives a sly nod... before turning to the arena... The arena is now severely crippled, indistinguishable from its former self... Hands in the pockets of his faded green cargo pants, Reeve speaks without looking at the camera.]
"Sometimes, dreams don't come true..."
"Mine never did."
- cut -
[... oh, and it's also culled from various rp's from the past ten years. Lil' bit of Reeve Gordon, lil' bit of raYne... maybe some Jasper McGravyTrain, who the hell knows.]
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.
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- Your screen is black. Yet you hear a voice... a familiar voice... a disenchated voice. -
- A voice of disgust... at the idiocy of today's world... and the carelessness of its inhabitants. -
- Your screen is black... yet not void. You hear a voice... and this is what it has to say. -
"Heather Storm. The woman that came so close to becoming MCW World's champion... only to have it savagely ripped out of her hands by a man with half a peanut for a brain. Heather... we've never crossed paths. Yet I feel as though we have so much in common. We both have had a love for Callisto... we both have known what it feels like to hold gold for the first time... we've both traveled miles upon miles across this nation for the betterment of many of the greatest promotions this business has to offer... we've BOTH come within inches of shining as the pinnacle of the sport, only to have it taken away in the blink of an eye by someone so far below us we can't even see them without the aid of a telescope... and most importantly, and something you've pointed out yourself..."
[camera opens to Reeve sitting backwards in a wooden chair, with one leg on either side, arms folded atop the chair's back.]
"... We've BOTH been screwed over by that shovel-shoving, Home-Depot card-carrying, idiot among idiots himself... Mike Johnson."
[Reeve finishes this sentence and looks down at the wooden floor... before lifting his head slightly, just enough to let us see the wicked glint in his eye, and the sinister smirk on his face. The room Reeve is sitting in is barren, except for the wooden chair and floor. The room is cast in an eerie, pale glow, and Reeve does nothing to help ease the darkness which inhabits this place. 'The Show' is wearing no shirt, no shoes, no wig. Just his short, plain, jet black hair with spiked tips, and a pair of black leather pants. His hands are accentuated with black fingernails as well as a pair of spiked wrist bands, his lips are painted with ice blue lipstick, and around his neck is the crystal dragon pendant he's carried with him for ages. Reeve's eyes hide behind a pair of pure white contacts, as if his pupils are rolled deep into the back of his skull. And beside the wooden chair, there lies the one thing that remains from Reeve's past beside the pendant and Tony... the black baseball bat. The very same one that led to his win at BWA Thankskilling, and the World Heavyweight Title that went along with it. His first match... and he walked out the top dog.]
[Scrawled across the chair's back is the word 'Truth' in black spraypaint. The very word that has been the driving force for 'The Show' for the last few months, heading toward the eventual fork Reeve has written poem after poem about. A fork that could lead to his ultimate success... or failure. One decision that must be made, and that has spawned hours upon hours of writing and reflection from our hero. That decision?]
"Do I stay on the path to the World title... or do I stay on the path to my vengeance upon Johnson. Ever since I arrived, I've been stuck between two roads, without a compass, without an atlas. Without... a tour guide."
"Until now."
"I've found my guide. And her name... is Storm. Heather, I know how bad you want that World title. And in the grand scheme of things, you haven't really had a chance. I mean, nobody thought you had a chance going into Heatwave... and on some level you proved them right. BUT. Along the way, you also proved that you did have what it takes to compete on the big stage. It was a triple cage match, just like the first match I competed in. And you were THIS close to doing now just as I did back then, and upsetting the critics' predictions by going home with the game's richest prize. But then... there was Crusher. The big oaf who had no right to leave with that strap. All he did was hang onto the cage for a couple of lousy minutes, and after you had given your all, he attacked you from behind and tossed you. He blindsided you, Heather. If you ask me, the man's a chickensh!t. He did nothing more than take advantage of a REAL champion's shining moment. He's a bast@rd. He's a coward. And the worst thing about it is... Our chairman is doing absolutely nothing about it. He's not even giving you a d@mn one-on-one match. A fair fight. A fight where you can SEE Crusher coming at you... instead of being caught off guard by a mindless monster twice your size and three times your girth... but HALF your ability, and nowhere near the charm, charisma, intellect, or beauty of you."
"No, Mike "The MYTH" Johnson did nothing about the travesty that occured on the 30th of July. It's been over a month now, and he's STILL done nothing. Now, Mike books Crusher in a NON-TITLE match... against a STABLEMATE! If you think even for one second that Mr. Vampire-pants is going to go easy on his pal Crushie-Wushie... you're absolutely right. My prediction? Vlad does the j-o-b to Crusher in less than ten minutes, successsfully 'passing the torch'. Atleast, until Crusher's little stint with the gold is over, and he's ready to hand it back over to the man the Big Crush sucked up to for month's on end just so he could keep the title. Yeah, that's right. Because you all want in on a little secret? If Vlad REALLY wanted that title right now? I mean REALLY wanted that title? He'd snap Crusher's neck in half a second. *snaps fingers* Just like THAT. But Crusher has kissed up and kissed @ss, and he's achieved the position of being the only man Vlad's willing to ALLOW to hold the belt if they somehow, someway manage to steal it from the Blood Clod's grasp. Well, besides Dark Demon. But who knows when the hell THAT guy will show up."
"Vlad knows it, Crusher knows it. Hell, the whole WORLD knows it. Crusher stumbled upon the gold. The gold Vlad claims as his own. And if Crusher had been any other man, Vlad would have pounced upon him in a heartbeat... Now, if I was the man that walked away from Heatwave with the title, I would b!tchslapped the taste out of Vlad's mouth... but that's beside the point. Crusher won. Heather DESERVED to win... but Crusher won. And BECAUSE he won, Vlad was willing to let it slide. At A.D., Vlad'll lay down for Crusher, forcing the people to believe that Crusher is worthy of the championship in his possesion. This will, in turn, make Vlad's little hobbled-together 'Alliance' seem all the more strong, and when the time is right, Crush will repay Vlad's kindness, and the fact that he didn't tear him a new hole for the gold, with a quick and painless title drop. Really, it's a marvelous plot guys, it really is. But it's so thinly veiled a blind man could see it. And the Truth is... there are better men that deserve that title more than the both of you combined. And one of those men...is a woman."
"Heather... not only did you bust your @ss in that match, you fought the naysayers that told you and the rest of the women in this business that they can't make it as a World's champion. I know that feeling, Heather. I've been dealing with the names for years now... 'f@g'... 'queer'... 'pillow-biter'... And although they're only names, they still hurt. Why? Because they're some of the most vicous, painful words a human mouth can utter. Especially the mouth of a father... But that aside, people look down on those they don't understand. And the human race tramples those that get in their way, even if those that get in their way are only trying to have their voices heard. Mike Johnson, just like the Alliance, are like that. They disregard anyone's voice but their own. Vlad and his pals SAY they no longer associate with Johnson, but the Truth is, as long as a man wants what someone has, that man will help him. Mike wants that World title in his camp... Vlad wants to rule this company. Crusher wants a moment in the spotlight, and Vlad wants to boost his stable's position in the fed. So you can see why there would be motive there for a hand helping another, and one event leading to another. Heather, I may hate to say it, but it's True; I'm human. And so are you. We both want the title, and we both want to get our revenge on Johnson for screwing us over. The only problem is... We can't BOTH walk away from American Dream with the gold."
"Ever since I stepped into this company, I've been ranting about becoming 'Born Again'. But really... what do those words mean? To XAW [yeah, that's right, I'm not afraid to say it], it's just a way to rake in cash on ppv buyrates. To the Christian Religion, it's the reward given for faithful service on this Earth. And for the last several weeks, to me, it's been nothing but another gimmick. But in the end... something's got to give. There can be no more gimmicks. There can be only... Truth."
"And the Truth is... there is no Born Again. There ARE no second chances. There is only one life to live, and once it's over, you have experienced it all. I had my chance at Alexis... and I blew it. I had a chance at the XAW Cruiserweight title. Blew that. Had a shot for the MCW World title at Heatwave... blew that too. Point is, once something's gone, it's gone for good. Heather, your chance for the MCW Championship comes Sunday. Now, Johnson can see what you've done. How much blood you've poured into that ring.... how much blood you shed on all three levels of that structure at Heatwave... and he can totally disregard it all. And then, to top it off... he compares you to Callisto. Heather, you're not in Calli's league. ... You're way, way, WAY beyond that. Callisto is to you as Jeff Hardy is to Christopher Daniels. Hardy tries to be 'extreme' by ruining his body by tossing himself through tables and wrecking his mind by covering his face in paint [no telling how many of his brain cell's that stuff's killed]. Whereas, CD is a TRUE athlete, with not only the greatest mic skills in TNA, but the greatest X-Division talents in the world. Heather... you are real, just like CD. Calli is a fraud, and you deserve so much more than her. You deserve to be with someone that cares about your desires to be the greatest. Calli? When she was with Scotty, she never believed he would walk away with the belt. She always thought it was HER destiny to be the one in that couple to becoem champion. And between you and me? She thinks the same of you. As long as you're together, she'll TELL you that she loves you. She'll TELL you that she cares. Hell, she'll TELL you just about anything just to get you into the sack. But the Truth is, as soon as she gets some gold around her waist, she'll forget about you faster than she did Scotty. But me? I'll be up front with you. I don't want to be with you like Calli does. I already have Tony for that. All I want is a chance for a mutual relation. You want the World title? I'll be in your corner every time you step in that ring. All I ask in return is help in my mission to bring down Johnson. You deserve revenge, just as I do, and together, vengeance would be ours."
"I want you to seriously think about this Heather. I don't care if you like Callisto, I don't care if you like NFH, hell, I don't care if you like to do the hooky-hooky at the Hooky-Hooky Lou... whatever that means. All I care is that you hate Dark Alliance, and you have reason to hate Johnson. And those are the only two reasons I need..."
"For a very beautiful friendship. Think about it Heather... and get back to me. Ciao."
[Reeve smiles at the camera, and pops his neck to both sides, before departing from view... leaving the camera to stare at the chair, and it's lone message...]
'believe'
============================================
Challenge... F*CKIN'... Met
----------------------------------
I've come to the fork in this long traveled road
I've seen many things, but I know now where I go
I thought I wouldn't make it, but the time has come
The decision is made, and the path is done
You thought you would deceive me, by steering me from my goal
But noone will, and that is that, it's time to take my role
In the future of this business. Reeve Gordon is on track
My mission is now clear...
Reeve F*CKIN' Gordon's back.
* * * * *
[When one door closes... another one opens. So the saying goes. Many of the MCW superstars have had to deal with their fair share of doors ever since the re-opening of this company... but none so many as our intrepid hero, Reeve. Having love torn from his heart, and gold ripped from his hands, Reeve has born the hatred of all who step into this federation. From those in the hallowed hall of fame, to the lowliest of preliminary competitor. From the janitors manning their brooms and dust pan, to the Man himself, Mike Johnson. A company of enemies, that would like nothing more than to be rid of Reeve, once and for all.]
[Yet through it all, Reeve has stood tall, albeit changing course almost every day of the week. Three months has he been here, with one goal still intact; To seek revenge upon those he believes were behind the seperation of him and what he thought to be rightfully his... The XAW World Cruiserweight Title. Whether it be Vlad, for causing him to worry more about a Forest than the strap, Triksta, for being, in Reeve's eyes, the biggest disgrace to the title in company history, or Johnson himself, for, if nothing else, laughing at Reeve just as so many others had done in his life, and wrecking havoc with Reeve's mind.]
[But now... months later, and a full year after being fired from XAW for, among other things, mental incapabality, Reeve is finally at a crossroads. Johnson... or title. Johnson... or title. Mike Johnson, the president of MCW, has been that unreachable itch on Reeve's back ever since the Show stepped foot in the promotion. A wound that has felt no relief, and has been filled with salt every time Mike books another xtreme, super crazy, barbedwire, thumbtack explosive, stunt-devil, razor-cage, Japanese deathmatch of doom. But on the flip side of the coin... that elusive World's championship. The pinnacle of the business... the very thing superstars die for, and men spend every sleeping hour dreaming of... every waking moment fighting to achieve, facing their fears, and bleeding until not a drop remains to be shed.]
[On one side... an enemy. On the other... immortality. Both, sure to be wars. Both, sure to lead to as many losses as success, but ultimately a victory unparralleled. But in the end, in less than 12 hours, a choice must be made, and a path MUST be chosen. For if Reeve is truly to ever become the great superstar he once dreamed to be... and had always wished to prove to his dad he COULD be... then he must know in which direction he will be going. The year's end draws near, and the time to step up is coming closer than it has ever been before. Tomorrow night, many men, and women, will step into the ring. But ultimately, only one will have the honor to face Crusher the show after. And Reeve's chances, despite what he would hope, are quickly dwindling...]
* * * * *
"10 hours away... A battle royale... with every man, woman, and, well, you know the joke floating around here. Funny thing is... I'm not laughing. That's all I am to you people, though... a joke. Someone to poke fun at in some quick zinger, and then forget about for another month. I'm sure countless of you are going to fast-forward through this promo... those that tune in at all. Mock me for my love for Tony, ridicule me for my obsession over some jungle named the raYne Forest, and flip past the rest. Sure, maybe if I make fun of one or two of you you'll tell me how much of a pathetic waste of flesh and bone I am, tell me to stick to jerking the curtain like a good little soldier, and then move on as though the discussion never even took place. I've asked some of you in the back to help me, yet you ignore me like the plague. And then when I speak of a revolution... the only result is another target for your jokes."
"I could stand here today, a handful of hours before the big dance, and just ramble on about how the revolution IS happening... but you won't believe me. And besides... talk is cheap. The time now is for action. I've heard your call, Vlad... asking me to prove to you, once and for all, that I'm more than just a big mouth slapped onto a big head. You want me to prove I have a spine? You want me to prove that I'm not afraid of doing something, no matter the repercussions? Then Vlad... consider that challenge met."
[Reeve smiles... a sick, twisted, demonic smile.]
"I stand before a building now... a building you're quite familiar with. Well.... atleast... you should be. But me? I am..."
[The camera pans out, and we can see that Reeve is standing before... the Ford Center? Well, we now know the first arrival... How's that for being early? But why 3 o'clock in the morning?]
"See Vlad... this place... it's held alot of memories for me... some good... some bad. But one rises above them all. It is in this very arena that I won my first World's Heavyweight Championship... in my first match. Clad in the black trench and Sting face paint, I defeated two men that night. In front of a thunderous hometown crowd... My people. The people I grew up with..."
"Thing is, they hated my guts just as much as every d@mn person in that lockeroom did in BWA... and just as you here in MCW. I've asked myself for such a very long time... why do people find it so easy to loathe me? As soon as I was late one night at work, Alexis cheated on me with a circus jester. My father disowned me for finding out about my love for Javex Valerius. And the dragon himself couldn't stop himself from laughing at the thought of a man finding him attractive. Why did these people hate me? Why do you, the viewer hate me? It's simple... you're jealous. You're ALL jealous... of me. And the fact that I can BE me without being ashamed. Every gimmick I pass through? Every "phase" I broadcast for the world eyes? Sure, they may be masks, as I've said before. But these masks are shards of a bigger mirror. A reflection of my inner self. I've not afraid to be who I am on any given day, and be it to its utmost potential. Sure, sometimes I lose focus. But that's the great thing about Reeve Gordon. He goes where he wants to, when he wants to, no matter what the outside world is telling him. I don't listen to anyone's desires but my own. But now... I do have a mission. See... heh, I've broadened my outlook a bit if you will. Where once I thought only of revenge upon those that took away my title... now?"
"I seek my revenge upon the world."
"This city... hell, this whole state could careless if I've made it in the wrestling business. They never cared for me and they never will. Because I'm a homosexual. Because I'm a goth. And because, basically, I'm different. But in 2 weeks, when that idiotic band march "Boomer Sooner" blares over the speakers, they'll be on their feet ready to welcome that fat, ugly, disgusting redneck b@stard "Good Ol'" Jim Ross. When in reality? Who's the one that busts his @ss week in and week out? Who bleeds across the canvas for those buffoons? You know the answer to that just as well as I do. But who will be getting the admiration? Mr. Slobberknocker himself. Maybe if I ended every sentence with the words "By Gawd" I'd start getting respect, who the hell knows..."
"Point is, these people are nothing to me. This is the same state that, when my father slept on his wife with a 19 year old, gave custody of me to the adultering b@stard. This is the same state in which I was suspended for a month for kissing another guy in the hall, while letting him off scott free. How ironic that guy just so happened to be the principal's son, eh? And oh, let's not forget. In this same arena, after I won that world title, in my FIRST match, against TWO men... I expected a celebration from the crowd. But did the Okies cheer for me? Did they even give a polite golf clap? No."
"Dead. Silence."
"But that's not what you expect tomorrow, is it Mikey J? Nah... you expect a packed house. You expect smiling faces and cheers from floor to balcony... and you expect money. Cold... hard... cash. And what do your stars expect? Well, for starters, the boys in the US-TV title tourney expect to go one round deeper. But where am I on that first round, Mikey? Oh, yeah, that's right... you forgot about me. You forgot that when the Big Crush was handing out envelopes, one of those invites just so happened to sail my way. You forgot... that's ok, no harm, no foul. Then, Claudia expects to reclaim her title. The title she believes Calli stole from her. While Calli expects to rule the cage, successfully defend against the gothic beauty, and prove to Griffy that he's found himself a catch. That is... until she moves on to the next timeshare. But anyway... Vlad and Crusher expect to put on the match of the night, and prove what the Dark Alliance is all about. And of course, every man and woman in this company is hoping... wishing... praying to walk out of that royale the winner. And they expect to move on as #1 Contender to the richest prize in the game."
"But sometimes... we just don't get what we expect... do we? So, for every stone face in that crowd... for the teacher that barred me from the school for being something he was afraid to admit existed... for my father... for Alexis... and for everyone watching this at this very moment ... wait... do I smell... smoke? What could that ever be..."
[Reeve turns around, and sure enough, the Ford Center is ablaze! He turns his head around toward the camera, and feigns shock.]
"Who could have EVER done such a horrible thing at such a ghastly hour? I mean... it couldn't be me... could it?"
[Reeve smirks, and turns back toward the now raging inferno, and begins to take a few steps in the flames direction... before a siren is heard and blue and red lights can be seen. A horde of cops walk in front of him, while a group of firefighters rush to put out the blaze.]
Cop: Sir, is this yer doing? Cuz if it is, yer gonna have to come with us.
Cop#2: And by the looks ah things... it's gonna have to be for a long, looong time...
Reeve: Why, whatever do you mean? I was just standing here, minding my own business, when...
Voice from off camera: I'll tell you who did it.
[The cops look toward the voice, and the camera moves as well... discovering the grinning face of none other than Tony Spaghetti. And next to him? One of the greatest legends in XAW history... Crimson. The two men put their hands out, ready for arrest.]
Tony: Come on, we haven't got all day.
Crimson: *singing to himself* I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie wor-hur-hurld...
Reeve: Sooo... does that answer your question?
Cop #1: Well... I guess. But I guess we're going to have to cancel the big pig show and square-dancing competition...
Cop #2: I was really lookin' forward tah gettin' tah second base with Cousin' Betty-Sue...
Cop #1: HEY! Betty-Sue was MY date, she's on MY side ah the family!
Reeve: Ok, men, thanks for doing your job, I've got a promo to finish.
[As the police officers argue over their cousin, Reeve turns to Tony and Crimson, and gives a sly nod... before turning to the arena... The arena is now severely crippled, indistinguishable from its former self... Hands in the pockets of his faded green cargo pants, Reeve speaks without looking at the camera.]
"Sometimes, dreams don't come true..."
"Mine never did."
- cut -