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Alexander Aries · (03-05-2016)

It's such a nice, cool night. The moon shines brightly over the huge estate of one Alexander Aries. We say estate because the man owns a ton of land up in Hamilton. He's a British Canadian implant, who has wrestled over the globe. Worldwide.

A gentle breeze stirs the crystaline water of the large pool, the ripples lulling the two white tigers, Raijin and Fujin to sleep in front of the patio door. Security tigers, no doubt. Yes, he has a permit to keep said "pets" at his house. Simply put, the man is big news.

Cut to a shot inside the house. A small pile of embers smolder in the fireplace and Alex sits on his favorite brown leather loveseat, with his lovely wife using his lap as a pillow. She wears a skimpy white nighty, her pink panties easily visible but her breasts covered by Alex's tattooed forearm. He smiles and runs his fingers through her platinum blonde hair, speaking quietly to the camera.

"'Ey there, Peter. I trust you are well, eh? I'm living the life of the king I am, sitting here in my beautiful house, with my beautiful wife, enjoying a glass of sparklin' grape juice. You know, I don't drink alcohol, so eh, this is as good as it gets. I am as good as it gets, to be perfectly honest."

The corner of his mouth arcs upwards into a smirk as he reaches over to gently take his wine glass in his hand. He raises his glass to his lips and sips from it, continuing. "I appreciate your well wishes concerning my former contest with Mason Prince, but you and I both knew that I would beat that little punk. Don't fool yourself, Gilly. You knew from the moment that the match was signed that you would be facing me next for that lovely little Hart Title. Why, it's destiny. It's set in stone."

"It's set in stone that I am destined for greatness, just as you were when you began your career with the XWF. I've nothing but respect for your achievements Mister Gilmour. You've a plethora of gold under your belt. It's quite remarkable, actually."

"You and I have more in common than you may believe, dear Peter. You'll say that my words are false, but at the end of the day you will know that..." he chuckles, moistening his lips with his grape juice. "...I am right."

"Let that sink in for just a second."

"Alexander Zeus Aries is right."

Alexander gently nudges Elizabeth's shoulder and leans down, kissing her on the cheek. He whispers into her ear... "Dearest, you need to go to bed. I've got a few things I need to say for the cameras which your angelic ears need not hear."

She moans lightly and stretches her tight body out, her bangs falling into her face as she sits up. "Mmmm but dear, why can't I hear? I'm nineteen years old, I can take it!"

Alexander looks into the camera and raises his left eyebrow, then looks at Liz. "Indeed you can, but this is for Gilmour's ears only."

"Ohhhh...the fat guy with the blonde bimbo?"

He looks at us once more and shakes his head. "She's not a big Peter Gilmour fan. I apologize, Ariesites!"

He shrugs and looks back at the beautiful French Canadian Elizabeth. "Yes, the one you hate more than Cain."

Elizabeth crinkled her cute nose. "Ewwww! Caaaaaain? Okay...I'm nauseous now, so yeah...going to bed."

"Is he really that bad?"

She gives Alexander a quick nod, and stands. We can see what Alexander's only other addiction beside competition is as he watches her Brooke Tessmacher-esque ass jiggle as she bounds away from him. With a huge grin, he looks back at the camera.

"A-lot in common, eh bloke? Both have huge houses, tons of cars, beautiful wives, both are all about wrestling. I know I am, because honestly Pete? Competition is my life. My wife may be my love and sex with her? Amazing. But a match with someone of your caliber? It's like biting into a York Peppermint Patty and when I bite into a York Peppermint Patty I get the feeling that I'm careening down a mountain at Whistler Ski Resort."

"I get the feeling that I can only imagine a heroin addict gets when he sticks those dirty needles into his veins and shoots that shit into his bloodstream..." He looks disgusted for a moment. "...without the nasty ass track marks."

"You know, I have never needed drugs to get high. Like another great wrestler, I am what you call "Straight Edge" and that means I don't drink, I don't smoke, and I don't do drugs. Much like my mainstream counterpart, that makes me better than you. Better than them. By "them" I mean all of those moronic sycophants sitting out there with you, watching this and hanging onto my every word. But "them", well it goes deeper than that. Trax, D'ville, Lane...hell, I'm even better than them."

"Another thing we have in common, Gilmour, is that you and I both believe we are the best, but you shouldn't fool yourself into believing that you are better than me."

He waves his hand dismissively at the camera. "You think you're the best, but this is where the similarities end. You see, I know that I am Best Damned Wrestler In Existence!"

Evidence indicates that this young man's claims are true. His XWF record is five and oh, one by way of referee stoppage. That's how bad ass this man is. He also has a twenty three win streak in Japan, so if you count them all together he may just be exactly what he claims to be.

Of course he knows this. He hasn't even bragged about his wins in Canada. Wins that would make Canadian Hero Bret Hart proud.

"I know that I have been trained and educated by the top names in the business. I know that I have grabbed ahold of their legacy by the horns and am now riding that bull straight into the XWF Arena...so to speak. But you know what bugs me, Pete? You know what really sticks in my craw?"

He grimaces and shakes his head, reaching for his wine glass full of the white grape juice and sipping it.

"These idiotic people who don't appreciate a goddammit thing men like you and I, athletes, do. Oh yea, I beat that punk Mason Prince. Oh yea, I got my title shot. But it's in this environment? The environment I am speaking of is of course this double cage bullshit which I'm almost certain was a drug induced idea by Frodo."

A picture of our new GM appears on the screen. The dwarf...no, King of the Dwarves is holding a glass, duck shaped crack pipe. His lips are puckered on the beak of the Duck Pipe.

"Yeah. This quack head wants to put a fucking world class athlete in a contest of such stupidity that Dimallisher would probably consider it an intelligent idea! Hell, you and Trump are probably creaming your bloomers right now, and not because you're the ..." mocks the mentally challenged with a deep, slow voice, beating his chest. "...Kin ov Extweeeeem!"

"Bloody hell."

"It's obvious that you're blowing someone if they think this particular match puts things in your favor. They're thinking "oh, we can stop Aries from being the biggest legend in XWF if we put him in an Extreme environment with the King of Cellu-...errr, Extreme." But you see, these mother fuckers? Ah, they're wrong."

"Dead wrong. More dead wrong than that zombie Sebastian Duke on Jeopardy, faced with questions concerning personal hygiene. More dead wrong than Donald Trump is about immigration, considering that America was founded by white men who stole the Native Americans' land and raped their women. More dead wrong than Reeve Alexandra Gordon is about it's gender. It's. Not his or hers, because who the fuck knows what that *thing* is?"

"I digress. Because Pete, you'd best trust and believe that when I began recording, I had the least amount of respect for you. I mean, it was a little, not like you're a legend or anything. But as I went on, I gave every ounce of thought to what kind of competitor you are. You're the type of man who is known to lie and deny losing, and if not that then you will whine and complain about it."

"Well, ya fat sonuvabitch, get ready. Sharks? Lions? Ocean? Cages? Oh my. I am so scared. And of course I mean that sarcastically because honestly, I could give a fuck less what kind of odds are stacked against me."

He smirks.

"The fact of the matter is, Peter, your Hart Championship has a great big bullseye on it. That bullseye has been shot at over these past few weeks by many of competitors, but this guy? Me? I'm different. Because I am the Straight Edge Assassin, and boy, I am locked and loaded on you and that title. Peter..."

"I..."

"....don't..."

"...miss."

"One shot? One kill, Peter. Welcome to my world, King. Prepare yourself for the Prince of Perfection and NEW Hart Champion...Alexander Aries!"

Fade Out

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