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Centurion · (05-05-2020)

Darkness has fallen. A stiff, cold breeze blows through the night sky, as the sound of waves crashing against the shore can be heard for miles.

Standing, staring out into the ocean, is a man filled with pain, and a man filled with hatred and anger. The sounds of the ocean barely cover up the voices in his head that torment him daily. This man, is Andy "Centurion" Cortinovis. But he looks...different. He does not have his normal demeanor. His face is covered with a mask.

[Image: 5jeo.gif]

He kneels down into the sand, placing one hand to balance himself, as the other hand rests on his knee. He lets out a slight growl as he continues to stare off into the distance.

"Darkness doesn't make space cold. If one thinks about it, darkness had to come before light because without light there can be no dark. Jason O'Hara once wrote that. No truer words were spoken. Light can not exist without darkness, beauty can not exist without pain, and good can not exist without evil. This is why Satan is the most vilified, yet necessary character in the Bible. Without him, God would have no powers. This is why bad people must exist."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife. He begins carving something into the sand, and speaks in a monotone voice as he does.

"Death surrounds us. It engulfs us. And yet, the world does not care. It is but numbers to people. Sixty thousand dead in America due to a disease, and that is celebrated as a victory. People may think they are kind, but they are cruel. They are evil. Why do we scream in horror when one man kills another, but we say nothing when a village is destroyed by bombs? Either life is precious...or it is not. These...people. They are fake. They are meaningless. So who is truly evil? The killer, or those that watch on and do nothing? Perhaps the killer is necessary. Perhaps the killer is what is making good exist."

As he says his last word, he stands the knife into the ground. He stares at what he has drawn into the sand, which is...nothing. It's complete gibberish. Centurion takes a deep breath, but as he does, he begins to cough. He stands back up and quickly whips his mask off, tossing it onto the sand.

Centurion: Can't breathe in that fucking thing!

(The camera pans out, and we see Centurion is standing in front of the boardwalk in his hometown of Atlantic City. The place is empty, due to it being late at night and social distancing has put everyone's vacations on hold. Centurion turns from the ocean and walks parallel with it as he speaks into the camera.)

Centurion: Was that enough #SpookyShit for you all? My hope was to do an entire promo under that stupid mask, but that would have been impossible - the damn mask designer didn't make enough space for a mouth! Besides, what would I say besides "pain and suffering" over and over again? That's the problem with all these wannabe goth band wrestlers - once you get past the initial "my life sucks, but I enjoy pain and violence" schtick, there isn't much else to say.

(As Centurion continues walking, Allison and Jocelyn approach from the other direction - from behind the camera. Allison gives Centurion a quick fist bump as she walks over to retrieve the mask Centurion dropped on the ground. Jocelyn quickly stops and pulls out a cigarette, handing it to Centurion. Centurion puts it in his mouth and Jocelyn lights it before also walking away, toward Allison's direction.)

Centurion: There's another reason why I refuse to do an all #SpookyShit promo - because it would be disingenuous. You would see right through it. You would be able to tell right away that I was being something that I'm not. Much like you're able to do with Robert Main.

Yes, Robert, we're going to start with you first. Not because you're the one I hate the most, not because you're the worst, and not because you're the big threat...but because you're the most disappointing. Seriously, Robert, the whole "running around in a mask, being creepy" thing? Isn't this the exact same shit you used to call Unknown Soldier out for? Isn't this the thing we used to make fun of The Engineer for? You're really going to go down this road?

I mean, I get it - you're at a crossroads. You're not at the top of the company anymore - Shawn has that locked up. You're not waiting in the wings as the next big contenders. You're not the leader of a group looking to bring instability to the XWF - that's Shane

''s job. No, you're the tag team champion, which is...fine. It's ok. If you were actually proud of that accomplishment, you could hold on to it for a long time. I doubt Chaos and Carnes are going to be taking that belt off of you, and there doesn't seem to be any tag teams near the level of you and Page right now, so you could just sit back, relax, and enjoy your position.

But you can't. Not after being taken down by Soldier. Not after seeing Engineer pass you by. Something snapped in you. Problem is...it's not really you, is it, Robert? This isn't who you are - it's who you THINK you have to be.

You can say that I've "fallen" and that I'm third rate, but I'm not the one running around like a D list horror movie villain in an effort to keep up with the trends. How can you say I'm the sad one when I'm the same person now that I was a year ago? I suddenly went from "one of the best" to "third tier" without losing a single match. Interesting how that works when it fits ones narrative.

That's fine, Robert. I knew you'd go down this road. You couldn't help yourself. Just remember, though - when it comes to legit contenders for the Universal Title, one of us is constantly mentioned by the champ. And that isn't you. Speaking of the champ.

(Centurion takes a drag of his cigarette as Nellie and Erin walk into frame. Erin hands Centurion a highball glass and Nellie has a bottle of brandy. She takes the cap off and pours some into Centurion's glass before the two walk out of frame. Centurion takes a sip of the brandy as he continues to talk along the beach.)

Centurion: Tell me, Shawn, what was the point of all that shit you went through in March? The fake retirement, the name change - wasn't it supposed to signify some sort of "rebirth?" That Fuzz was dead, and now Shawn Warstein was going to take his place? No character, no persona, just the REAL Warstein?

Because from where I'm standing, I can't tell the difference.

Besides the fact that you're no longer a heroin addict, I don't see any difference between Shawn Warstein of 2020 and Fuzz of 2002. You're still a cocky bastard. You're still self-centered - you just happen to be dating someone who keeps up with you in the ego department. You still talk down to people, only you do it on Twitter now and not in Steve Sayors interviews.

Congratulations. You're the Universal Champion. Once again, you can claim something I haven't done. I'm sure, as long as you're around, I'll never hear the end of it...though I feel as if that day is coming sooner rather than later.

I see it in your eyes, Shawn. You're getting burnt out. The pressure of constantly having to smack back against challengers is getting to you. You're not enjoying yourself. The only thing you like about being Universal Champion is the idea of holding it over my head, and you even seem to be half assing that.

You can hand wave my accomplishments all you want. Call me a mid-carder, that's fine. But you know there's only one person who should fight you for that title, and that's me. You've admitted it yourself. And while you have all the confidence in the world in yourself, there's about 1% of you that's terrified because you know I'm the only person here who can beat you when you're at your best. If you're running in at full steam, complete focused and completely healthy, you beat everyone else 100% of the time. But with me? It's 50/50...at best.

You can already see it coming, don't you, Shawn? Warstein Vs Cortinovis for the millionth time, but this time it's for the Universal Title. It's the only logical path this goes down. The entire fed knows it. That's why they hate us. Because they can't stop the inevitable.

(Centurion takes another big drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke. As he does, he lifts his foot and puts the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. From behind the camera walks Genevieve, who is holding a wooden box. She opens it, and Centurion places the cigarette into the box. As she walks away, Centurion takes another sip of brandy.)

Centurion: Oh, Hanari. I almost feel bad for you. You're in an impossible situation. See, you're not completely useless like Red-X, so it's not like there are zero expectations on you. People are expecting you to hold your own out there

And yet, not a single person believes you can a really win. In fact, the only question is whether or not you outlast

. And here's the thing - no one WANTS you to win, either. You're not a plucky underdog hoping to ride the wave of the crowd to a Cinderella story. The fans don't like you because you're a dick. The boys don't want you to do well because none of them want to be on your team - except for maybe Chris Chaos, which...that says a lot.

You're neither being ignored nor respected, which means you're completely fucked. If the good talent in this match would have completely forgotten about you, you might have been able to pull a fast one on us. But we didn't.

You gloat about a win over Tula Keali'i, who was in her second match in the company. Congratulations. Big win for you. But there's a MASSIVE difference between being in the ring with someone with one win and someone with 161 wins. Try the same shit with me that you pulled with Tula, and I swear I'll drop you.

Good luck against Robert and Page, Hanari. God knows you'll need it. As much as I think Robert is being a disingenuous baby and Page is an annoying prick, I also know they have skills that far outweigh yours. Throw Chris Chaos, a man with no discernable talent whatever into the mix, and you're going to get fucking killed.

(Centurion finishes the rest of his brandy, and as he does, Walter walks out from behind the camera. He grabs the glass from Centurion and hands him over a manila envelope. Centurion just holds it to his side as he continues walking.)

Centurion: Shane "Shock Value"

. With everyone else around here changing, I'm glad to see you haven't changed any.

What, you think you were being new and original with the whole "ax murderer" vibe you're trying to pull off? Like you're NOT the man who brought Judas Iscariot into the world? Like you're not the person who gave a platform for GD to straight up fucking murder a person on live television?

Please, that shit might work for those who knew you in 2013, but for those of us who knew you in 2001, this is just more of the same. You get off on the blood and gore. You built a whole fucking federation off of it.

Let's talk about that federation, shall we? See, you like to take all the credit for my career because I got my start in the CCWF, when in actuality, you damn near ended my career before it began. That place was absolute chaos. You had no control over anything. The inmates ran the asylum. If you were a top guy, and I say "guy" because it was almost exclusively men, you got all the privileges in the world. If you were a kid just starting out? Well, you got fed to the wolves.

I was crucified by Omega, thrown onto a stone table by Amon Amaroth Ra, stabbed by GD, got curbstomped by the Great SS, and thrown off a stage by Big Daddy Dead. I was used to make statements. You didn't give a single shit about my career, or the career of anyone who came into the federation at that time. You just wanted to get your boys over.

You know what saved my career, Shane? It was when you got burnt out. It was when you decided to sell the company to Cooper of all fucking people, and he decided to use the federation to wage war with the XWF. There was a massive event on the horizon, with Cooper's CCWF going up against the XWF.

That's when Jon Brown reached out to me. He said "I'll sign you to a contract as long as you don't join CCWF's team." Good enough for me. I didn't join the team, the CCWF was destroyed, and my XWF career took off. So, if there's two people I need to thank, it's Jon Brown for seeing some level of talent in me, and fucking Cooper for having a never ending grudge against the XWF, and thus introduced me to it in the first place.

I sure as fuck don't owe you anything. The only thing I credit you for is giving me something to hate. You've introduced me to the style of wrestling that I despise the most. You've given me a target - something to seek out and destroy until they put me in the ground. So I guess in a way, I DO thank you. I thank you for showing me what being a shitty human being is. At the same time, if I had to choose between never knowing you and not having a wrestling career or being exactly where I am today, I'd giving up this career in a heartbeat.

(At that time, all of Centurion's friends - Allison, Jocelyn, Nellie, Erin, Genevieve, and Walter - join Centurion in front of the camera. Centurion opens up the manila envelope, and he pulls out a picture. It's an old picture - a promotional photo of the original Black Circle - Shane

, Greggo, and Deil. It has the CCWF logo in the corner, and

stands in the middle with his once signature long hair. Jocelyn hands over her lighter to Centurion, who looks at the photo.)

Centurion: You've ruined professional wrestling. You've ruined the lives of so many. And you've left behind a legacy of pain and suffering - a legacy I'm looking to burn.

(Centurion then flicks on the lighter and lights the corner of the paper on fire. It does not take long before the bottom of the paper is completely on fire.)

Centurion: See you around, Shane.

(Just as the fire gets to Centurion's fingertips, he throws the photo on the ground and stomps on it as the camera cuts.)

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