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"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." [// END FORWARD \\]
Tuesday, 3rd February 2015 - 10:13am || Sane Residence || Philadelphia, PA :: With the curtains drawn closed and all the lights switched off, the warm light from the fireplace is the only thing stopping my living room from plunging into darkness. I stand beside the fire place, faded black jeans and a 'Take The Pledge' t-shirt, my choice of attire. The dull roar of the fire is the only sound that can be heard as the flickering light from the flames casts shadows across my face. Rodd stands opposite me, a camera solidly planted on his right shoulder. I had just spent the last half hour watching Frodo's promo about half a dozen times, as painful as it was, trying to take in the innate babble that was coming out of his mouth. I smirk slightly as a soft chuckle escapes my lips and I stare into the camera. :: "Are you done, Frodo? Stupid question, of course you're not.. not yet. No, I'm sure for the next week you'll have plenty to say, most of it inaccurate and irrelevant, as always. You just don't get it, do you? This is it. This is where it all ends for you. The final stand, the last hurrah.. after Madness, there is no more Frodo Smackins.. the world can thank me later. Firstly, you want to bring up Turning Point? Great, let's talk about Turning Point. You know what? You're half right, as per usual. Lane did win that match, this much is true.. but I never lost it! Lane didn't pin me, and he never would have. He knew his only option was to pin either Wallace or Oppenheimer. He saw an opening and he took it, and for that, I can't blame him. The world knows that one on one, Lane doesn't stand a chance against the Insane One, as I have proven before, and would be only too happy to prove again. I may not have walked out of Turning Point with the number one contendership, but I still have my 24/7 briefcase, which means I can take that Universal Championship any time I want. Oh.. that's right.. you're supposed to be relieving me of my briefcase on Madness, aren't you? Ha, that's cute. Tell me Frodo, just how many times this week are you going to clutch at straws and hang onto past glories? Surely you are aware that he who hangs onto the past, has no free hands to take hold of the future? Of course you don't, you're so fucking stupid that you make reading a transcript of a Lucius Fyre promo feel like reading Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Oh and don't worry, that's about the last reference to the Asylum you'll hear from me. Unlike you, who obviously needed some filler to make their promo run a little longer, and so took aim at Gator and CorVus' at length. Let me remind you Smackins, that this isn't about them. It never has been. This is about me and you. Forget Defiance, forget The Asylum.. this is about unfinished business. Yeah, you beat me at the King of the Ring - congratulations. You want to tell the world that one more time? Because maybe they didn't hear you the first thousand times. Your shit gets old real quick man, and you're no longer fooling anybody but yourself." :: I walk slowly across to the other side of the fireplace, dragging my fingertips across the mantle as I do so. :: "You say that a briefcase is like a title? How so? One is the means to an end, the other, is that end. It is an avenue, a ticket.. a title is the destination. Tell me, Frodo, how often are cases put on the line as opposed to championships? Don't worry, I'll wait while you do some more "research". You see, a case is a special thing. Number one contendership, that's great, sure.. but a briefcase? Any title you want.. any time.. anywhere.. and the champion never sees it coming. It's a valuable thing, and something I earned. For over a month I ran roughshod over the XWF locker room. There's a reason I was the December Star of the Month, and it's simply because I was that much better than everyone else. I didn't win one match to earn this case, I won several. Don't sit there and tell me I haven't earned my case, because the irony is fucking through the roof on that one. The fuck have you ever done that gives you a legitimate claim to my briefcase? Don't research this one, I'll tell you: not a fucking thing! Calling out every single person on the roster doesn't make you a bad ass any more than it makes you a fucking retard. Nor does it give you any right to my briefcase. Half that locker room would tear you to shreds, I'm just the lucky one who will get to do it for the very last time! See, here's another thing you were only half right about.. I did force you to put your career on the line for a shot at my briefcase, but it wasn't because I thought you would back out and I wouldn't have to face you. On the contrary, I knew that your ego and insatiable appetite to try and take out the beast at the top of the food chain would ensure you accepted. I threw out the bait and you took it hook, line and sinker.. just like the fucking spastic you are. Allow me to let you in on a little secret Frodo.. there is no way in which this ends well for you. There is but one outcome, and the world knows it. After Madness, there will be no doubt in anyone's mind that what happened in the King of the Ring tournament was just a fluke. Oh and don't worry Frodo, Gator and CorVus will have no bearing on the outcome of this match, so you can stop mentioning them. Maybe if you conducted your research as thoroughly as you would have people believe, you would know that we never interfere in each others matches. We don't have to, because we know that each of us is more than capable of getting the job done, which is more than I can say for you and the Asylum. No, this Monday night is all about me and you. You wanted the spotlight? You wanted your name mentioned in the same breath as Justin Sane one more time? Well, now you got it. But if you think for one second that you are going to take away my twenty four seven briefcase, think again. This whole obsession you have with myself and my partners, it stops at Madness. As does your career." :: I take a slow step forward, running my right hand through my hair and breathing deeply as I lower my head to look at the ground. As I lift my gaze, I be sure to use a serious and measured tone as I deliver my next words. :: "Smackins, you are predictable. Too predictable. Everyone knew that the moment our names dropped on the marquee, you would be the man to fire the first shot. Everybody knew that your words would come thick and fast, but by the same token, everybody knew they would all be bullshit. They always are. The only thing you have succeeded in doing thus far is spitting bullets straight into the chamber of the pistol, and now you're about to hand it to the fastest gunslinger in the west and ask him to pull the trigger. Big mistake Frodo, because I will be more than happy to oblige. If you think that this is it, than you are oh, so mistaken.. I haven't even begun to take aim yet. The fact of the matter is, a lot is going to be said between now and Monday, but in the end it will count for little. You can't change what is already written, and this script has been inked for a long time. Briefcases, Championships.. yeah, I have both. Those things are great. But the chance to say that I was the one who ridded the XWF of the plague that is Frodo Smackins? Now that is something worth cherishing. You're little more than a stain on a new white shirt, but even the toughest of stains can be removed. At Madness, I'll be sure to bring two cases with me. In one, I'll have my Money in the Bank contract, which I will be leaving with. The other? Well, it's a long walk to the back of the unemployment line, so I'll pack you some clothes and a little spare change to get you by. Just remember that when it's all said and done, Frodo, you asked for this. You're the one who couldn't keep your nose out of my business. You have no claim to my briefcase, and when I am done atoning for my loss at the King of the Ring, you'll have no claim to any match in the XWF.. ever.. again. The clock is ticking, Smackins. Go ahead, call me a pussy. Drop an f-bomb every second word. Be that angry little midget gangster and talk about your dick and how gay I am, please. Say it all, and then say it all again, just like you always do. Name drop, talk about Gator, talk about CorVus.. go off on as many irrelevant tangents as you like, and make them count.. make sure you enjoy them, because when I climb that ladder and retrieve MY briefcase, I'm going to take great pleasure in knowing that you spent the last week of your professional life in the XWF telling everybody you were going to do the impossible, only to fail once more. Don't worry though, you can take solace in the fact that you'll never fail here again. A wise man once said that to win without risk, is to be victorious without glory. The risk we take going into this match is great, but rest assured, my glory shall be greater still. Welcome to your worst nightmare, Smackins, because no matter how hard you try, there's no stopping fate. At Madness, I will put an end to your career.. and in the process I will prove to the world one more time, why you don't fuck.. with Defiance." :: I chuckle softly to myself and signal for Rodd to cut the camera off. :: F A D E - 2 - B L A C K Tuesday, 3rd February 2015 - 12:40pm || Good Dog Bar || Philadelphia, PA :: I stare into the ice white eyes of Gator's mask as he sits one stool away from me at the bar. I can't see his eyes, but I know that his stare matches mine with a mixture of stubbornness and awkwardness. For those of you who don't understand why, let me clue you in just a little bit. In the week leading up to Turning Point, Gator accidentally sent a message intended for Vinnie Lane to my phone, where he wished "Loverboy" good luck in his match against me. Now, I may or may not have overreacted and held a grudge, but the fact is we haven't really spoken since. Last night I found a note stuck on my refrigerator from CorVus, asking me to meet him here for lunch today.. he didn't mention Gator was going to be here. The man playing Cupid sits on the stool between us, his crow on his shoulder and a glass of whiskey in his right hand as he stares blankly ahead. Rodd and Todd are over at the jukebox, probably fighting over which Backstreet Boys song they are going to play. The gaze between Gator and myself remains unbroken for a good couple of minutes, neither of us saying a word as glasses are sat in front of us and the barmaid begins pouring us each a neat double shot of whiskey. Gator rolls up the bottom of his mask, exposing that stupid mouth of his as he continues to look at me with those stupid bug eyes. We each grab our glasses and down our drinks in one swift throw back, setting the empty glasses back on the bar with a thud. After the two of us staring for a few more moments, CorVus slams his glass down on the bar. :: "..." "What? No way!" :: Gator had responded, but to what, I had no idea. CorVus sighs and turns his head to look in Gator's direction. :: "..." "I didn't even do anything wrong! What, I can't have friends now? I'm not the one with the problem here!" "It's not about you and Lane being friends, it's about the fact that you chose him over Defiance! We're supposed to be a team, we're supposed to be brothers!" "Sane, I didn't choose shit! All I sai.." "..." :: Gator had stopped mid-sentence, then let out a long exasperated sigh. :: "Fine, man. Whatever." "What?" "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to CorVus!" "He doesn't even fucking speak!" "Maybe you just don't fucking listen." :: There was a tense pause. CorVus smiled slightly as he lowered his head, then opened the right side of his jacket to reveal hundreds of yellow sticky notes stuck to the inside of it. He considered them for a moment with his left hand, then peeled one off and placed it on the bar in front of me. It read simply... ::
:: I stare blankly at the sticky note in front of me.. it takes me a few seconds to process the remark. Peeling the note off the bar, I turn and look up at CorVus, who hasn't taken his eyes off me. I frown as I hold it up in front of his eyes with my right hand and point to my bare neck with the left. :: "Nice scarf?" :: Gator sniggers in the background as CorVus' snatches the note out of my hand. Were his face not hidden by a thick layer of black and white face paint, I have no doubt it would be a deep shade of red. He crumples the piece of paper up and tosses it aside, before digging around inside his jacket once more. He retrieves another sticky note and places it on the bar in front of me. ::
:: I brush my glance over the note, taking in its words and then looking across to Gator, who simply folds his arms and looks at me. His lips are unmoved, so it's hard to read his expression. Thing is, I know I should be the one apologizing, but I can be stubborn. I don't like other people thinking they've been successful in telling me what to do. I bring my gaze across to the face of CorVus, who's stare burns a hole right through me. I snap my gaze away from his and back to the note on the bar. :: "You really expect me to apologize?" "..." :: CorVus tilting his head in acknowledgement of my question is the first sight I see as I raise my gaze once more. I look past him to where Gator is sitting, arms still folded, waiting expectantly. I let out a long sigh, and tap the bar to get the barmaids attention once more. The slender blonde finishes wiping a spot further along the bar and chucks the towel over her shoulder. She's gorgeous, as most barmaids tend to be, especially after a dozen or so beers. She makes her way over to the three of us and stops in front of me, a smile on her face. :: "What can I get for you?" :: I look over to CorVus, who is holding his whiskey up to his shoulder, as his crow drinks from it. I tilt my head and frown, bemused.. CorVus merely waves my attention away with a lazy hand before stroking the head of his crow. I look over to Gator, who shrugs, indicating that it's my call. I can't bring myself to say the words "I'm sorry", but I know that I was perhaps in the wrong on this one. I decide to suck it up and offer my apologies. These guys, odd as they may be, are my friends after all. :: "I'll have two glasses of your most expensive whiskey." "Erm, we don't really have any expensive whiskey.. I think we've got some Silver Select Single Barrel Jack Daniels?" "Close enough. My friend over here always was a cheap date." "Hey! You're the one who forced us to drink Jose Cuervo because you were too scared to drink daddies tequila!" :: The hand of CorVus comes up between us before I can even respond, diffusing the situation as the drinks are poured. I slap a crisp hundred dollar bill onto the bar and reach for my glass as CorVus lowers his left hand, raising his right instead, holding his glass up in a toast. Gator and I stare at each other for a moment, like two school kids who have been called into the principles office for fighting in the school yard at recess. After a brief moment, Gator raises his glass to meet that of CorVus and they both look at me. I wrestle with my stubbornness momentarily, before meeting their glasses with my own. The three of us take a drink from our glasses, and the smallest smile creeps across the face of CorVus as he sets his drink down and pats both of us hard square on the back. CRASH! The tense stare between Gator and myself is broken as both our heads snap around in the direction of the noise. Rodd and Todd are wrestling around with each other, expletives flying left, right and center and lots of flab falling out from beneath their shirts. I turn to look at Gator, who is already looking at me and we share a more amused look this time. I feel my angst begin to dissipate as I take another drink from my glass and watch the to grotesquely overweight camera men jostle for ascendancy. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Gator now standing beside me. :: "Saney baby, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" :: I take another drink as I look back at the two men flailing around on the floor. :: "You know what? I think I am. Shots!" :: I called out to the barmaid as a smile broke across my face for the first time since entering the bar. It was time to put Turning Point, and the week leading up to it, behind me.. it was time to have some fun. :: T O - B E - C O N T I N U E D . . .
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