07-30-2014, 11:15 PM
((As the scene opens up, we're treated to a look at a decently filled gymnasium set up for a wrestling show. The low quality of the recording and a small "IPW" logo in the corner make it apprent that this is promo footage for an indy wrestling organization. There's a standard ring set up and ... in the ring already is a referee, a ring announcer, and a nondescript wrestler in a black singlet. The crowd is noticeably anxious, anticipating what seems to be the marquee match.))
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, it is time now for your main event of the evening...
((The crowd breaks into applause.))
Announcer: Introducing first, form RIGHT HERE in Chicago... weighing in at 222 pounds, he is your reigning IPW American Champion... "The Immovable Object" Frankliiiiiiin Bash!
((The crowd reacts favorably as Bash raises his arms over his head, holding his championship belt. As he heads back to his corner and hands the belt to a crew member, the lights dim and screaming opening riff to "Still of the Night" by Whitesnake pounds out of the gym's PA system.))
Announcer: And his opponent, from the XWF, weighing in at a svelte, trim, athletic and inspiring 230 pounds... Your rock and roll fantasy... "Loverboy" Jimmyyyyyyyyy Laaaaaaaaane!
((The crowd pops big as Lane sprints out of the back area halfway down the aisle. While the music blares, Loverboy spins around and slaps a few high fives in the crowd, then turns his attention to the ring. Sliding under the bottom rope, Loverboy stands and gestures at the ring announcer, beckoning him over. As the announcer tentatively approaches, Loverboy snatches the mic out of his hand and turns to the corner, climbing halfway up and addressing the crowd.))
Loverboy: My name isn't Jimmy, little guy. My name is "Loverboy" VINNIE Lane. And you're gonna hear a lot about me starting real soon.
((Loverboy hops down from the corner and turns to hand the announcer his mic back... but hesitates right before the announcer gets a hold of it. Loverboy walks to his corner, still with the mic in his hand, and leans against the turnbuckles, then speaks.))
Loverboy: You know what? I'm going to give you IWP fans a treat. Go on home now, mister ring announcer, you're done for the night. Not only are you all going to get to see some quality wrestling from a real, live XFW MEGASTAR, but I'm going to call my own match too. Ring the bell, ref!
((The referee looks confused for a moment, but he does eventually turn to the timekeeper and signal for the bell to ring, which it then does. Loverboy and his opponent step into the center of the ring - Bash mouths something to Loverboy.))
Loverboy: What's that, champ? You got something to say?
((Loverboy holds the mic to Bash, and it looks like Bash is about to talk when suddenly Loverboy cold cocks him in the jaw with the microphone, causing a loud echoing thud over the PA system.))
Loverboy: Oh! And the American Champion has a glass jaw! He drops like a ton of bricks after a stiff right hand from his girlfriend's favorite wrestler - "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane!
((Loverboy grabs Bash by the back of the head, helping him to his feet, then shoves him into a corner. He sends a couple of kicks into his midsection, then clocks him with the mic again, with another loud thud. Bash is reeling now, and Loverboy lifts him into the tree of woe position.))
Loverboy: You guys like baseball? Or did you give up on the Cubs?
((The crowd cracks up as Lane runs to the ropes, bouncess off, and hits a vicious baseball slide to the face of Bash, sliding under the rope and to the outside as Bash flops to the canvas.))
Loverboy: Who wants to see a stage dive?
((The crowd erupts, and Loverboy grabs a nearby merch table covered in t-shirts and posters, chasing off the attendant. He gets the table set just as Bash is getting to his feet, and Loverboy turns and grabs his ankles from beneathe the rope, dropping him and dragging him outside.))
Loverboy: Hey Bash - there's no one home in my house of pain... go ahead and KNOCK!
((As he says this, he sends Bash headlong into the corner ringpost. Bash stumbles back and Loverboy jumps up and catches him in a flying inverted DDT.))
Loverboy: That had to hurt! Get up, Bash! Let's get you up onto your own shirts and DVDs here, nobody was buying them anyway...
((Loverboy rolls the groggy Bash onto the merchandise table, then rolls into the ring. Loverboy grabs the top rope and leans back.))
Loverboy: You don't see this everyday!
((With one fluid motion, Loverboy slingshots over the top rope, somersaulting into a legdrop to the table outside - but Bash rolls out of the way at the last second. Loverboy slams ass-first onto the table, but it doesn't break.))
Loverboy: Jesus! What is this thing made out of? Ow, my ass! Now I know what Frodo feels like every day...
((Grimacing in pain, Loverboy lies prostrate on the table. Bash climbs onto the ring apron and then dives off with a splash - but now Loverboy moves! Bash goes crashing through the table as it explodes into splinters.))
Loverboy: You got to move quicker than that if you ever want out of the indies, champ! Come on! Get up!
((Loverboy stomps on Bash and kicks him in the ribs, waiting while he gets to all fours and then finally his feet. Loverboy grabs him by the back of the head and moves him to the apron, shoving him back into the ring, before entering the ring himself.))
Loverboy: Come on, man, stop all that heavy breathing... you sound like half the XWF roster after they beat off to a Zoey Ryback promo. GET UP!!
((Eventually, Bash gets to his feet again and he rushes Loverboy with a wild clothesline attempt. Loverboy easily ducks under and hooks his arm with Bash's, twisting around and lifting him into position for his finisher. With a half turn, Lane drives Bash headfirst into the canvas, then hooks a leg casually and covers him.))
Loverboy: That's it, the Black Label Bomb! It's all over now folks!
1...
2...
3!!!!
Loverboy: Your winner, by a landslide of overwhelming wrestling ability, ME. "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane! Ring the damn bell and play my music!
(("Still of the Night" erupts through the speakers of the PA again as Loverboy drops the mic and raises his hands in victory. Then, the entire scene comes to a sudden halt, frozen in time. As the perspective of our view retreats, we see the entire scene has been on a television screen being watched by Loverboy himself, who is sitting on a leather sofa in a pair of boxers and a Faster Pussycat t-shirt, holding a remote control. Turning to face the camera, Vinnie addresses it with a smirk.))
Loverboy: Awesome, right?
((The ubiquitous voice of the poor sap who keeps getting assigned to Loverboy's backstage antics replies in a tired sigh.))
Voice: Yeah. Awesome. Was that all?
Loverboy: No, no. Look, I just wanted you to see firsthand, and to show this XWF roster what kind of trouble they were getting into. Everyone here runs their mouth talking up their wrestling - every one of them's been a champion everywhere they've been, allegedly, every one of them is the best at this or the best at that. But I don't ever see it, you know? THIS is what I am. THIS is what I can do. When I watch Madness and Warfare, I see a whole roster full of guys who don't live up to their words. They get in a ring and get knocked around by teenaged girls, or ram dildos up one another's asses as some ridiculous stipulation. Not me, man. I'm five days away from getting into an XXF ring for the first time, you know? And I guarantee you, my words will be backed up by skill. I'm not going to see here and count off all the belts I've won - hell, most of the indies it's more like which bookers are you friends with, you know what I mean, man? That's what makes the WXF so much different. They let you really go at it in the ring. They let you win or lose based on your actual ability, not by how many shirts you sell or how many asses you put in the seats. Those belts from other places don't mean jack here. But the Universal Title? The Xtreme Title? The FXW belts are legit, man. They're the real deal, and they're won and lost with wrestling. When I get in that ring this Tuesday, it's going to be to move up the ranks towards one of those titles.
Voice: Who are you facing?
Loverboy: Tag match. Me and Socrates against Bobby Zi, who I don't know much about, and LH Harrison... now that's a guy I've been eyeballing, and I'm really looking forward to tangling with him. One thing I can't stand is a damn bible thumper, you know? Look what it did to Dave Mustaine. This Harrison dude is just some phony. The worst thing to happen to the church since the pope stopped riding around in that little bubble car. He can wrestle, but not like me. He's gonna be lucky to spend five minutes with me before I have his shoulders stapled to the canvas. He'd better pray he ends up in the ring with Socrates if he wants to have any time to show off. I've been doing my research. I only started gathering intel on his partner tonight...
((Just then, a young looking girl with messy hair walks into view wearing only a buttoned up men's dress shirt and carrying what looks to be an oversized costume mouse head under her arm.))
Girl: I gotta get back to work, baby...
Loverboy: Yeah, yeah, in a minute Crystal.
((The girl scowls and walks back out of frame.))
Loverboy: See? Like Hamlet, you know? Method to my madness? I found out that Bobby Zi is, basically, working with the IQ of a six year old. He LOVES going to Chuck E. Cheese. He thinks the damn robot band is real, dude! Can you believe that? So I go in there flashing this bankroll I've got now - I'm talking about like three pizzas, mile long rolls of skee ball tickets, you know? I get to talking to the mouse and find out there's a chick in there? And she knows Bobby Zi from whenever the fed is in town and he stops in to clap like a special kid during finger painting class at that animatronic band? Well, let's just say it didn't take much work for me to bring her back here, you know what I mean? Just told her mom she didn't need a ride home and -
Voice: Whoa, Vinnie... her mom? That girl's eighteen right?
Loverboy: Oh yeah man, of course. Probably.
Voice: Dude...
Loverboy: Look, the point is I got some insight onto the Zi kid, okay? I'm willing to do what it takes to get ahead in this business. I'm not usually a tag team kind of guy, but you got to start climbing the ladder somewhere, you know? And Socrates? Buddy, you better bring your A game next week. Don't make me carry you, okay? Most of the random tag teams here look like a dumpster fire in the ring, so you come meet up with me and we'll talk strategy. You might even learn something. Okay, seriously, I've got to get this chick outta here, cool?
Voice: Yeah, definitely.
((Fade out.))