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Centurion · (01-24-2020)

Centurion: Is the makeup absolutely necessary?

(The past two weeks have been strange, to say the least, for Centurion. Upon getting the word that he would be wrestling a match - which turned into an arm wrestling match - in a dress, he has done his best to not go absolutely insane with the ladies in his life trying to dress him up like one of their Brats dolls.

After numerous attempts by his daughter, sister, and...whatever Genevieve is to him were not only unsuccessful, but ended in absolute disaster, a new challenger has arrived to take on the challenge - Centurion's future daughter-in-law, Erin.

We open inside the home of Nellie and Erin in Wildwood, New Jersey. There, we see Erin sitting in a chair in the living room, makeup brush in hand. Facing her, but away from the view of everyone else, is Centurion. We can not see face or most of the dress - all we see is that it's black.)

Erin: I wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't absolutely necessary. You're not the easiest canvass to work on, you know.

Centurion: What's that supposed to mean?

Erin: It means you move to damn much, and you've done nothing but complain since you sat down. You gotta relax more, man!

Centurion: It's hard to do when I've been poked and pulled and forced to play dress up for several hours. There's quite literally a thousand things I'd rather do than have to put up with this nonsense.

Erin: Well...tough.

(Erin swirls her makeup brush around in her powder container before lifting the brush back up and continuing to apply makeup to the not-so welcoming Centurion.)

Erin: This stuff is a sweat resistant foundation. Meaning you can go 2 hours in the ring and it won't run. If you just wear the dress, you're going to look stupid.

Centurion: I think it's too late for that.

Erin: Nonsense. I've been around drag queens for years. They all have far more style than you straight boys could ever dream of.

(Erin puts the large brush down and grabs a smaller brush. She begins tapping around Centurion's eyes with the brush, lightly brushing off some excess powder as she goes.)

Erin: They want a performance from you? Then you should deliver a performance. One that's going to make the crowd jump and cheer, and one that's going to make Vita scream in anger and pain. You want to be the best in the world? Prove it by beating them at their own game.

Centurion: You have a lot of stuff pent up in you, don't you?

Erin: People have been trying to keep me at the bottom my entire life. I went to school, got bullied. I fought back, got expelled. I got my GED, but no one wanted to hire me. I started camming and making decent money, but I'm told I should feel bad for not finding a "real career" and for "exploiting myself". Now I finally find a woman that I love, and her father's old business associate wants to use my past as blackmail.

Centurion: I am really sorry about that...

Erin: Don't be sorry. It's all part of life. I had to prove people wrong my entire life - elevate beyond their expectations of me. I've had to free myself of the shackles placed on me by those that want me to fail. I've turned their anger and hatred into fuel. Which is exactly what you're going to do.

Centurion: I don't know if my situation is as dramatic as yours.

Erin: It's not about comparing people's struggles with one another. We're all hurting, and we all need to elevate one another. I was fucked over by the world at large. You? You were fucked over by a group of annoying children and their vindictive father. In the end, we're all just trying to rock society to it's core.

(Erin puts down that brush and picks up another one as she begins working on Centurion's eyebrows.)

Centurion: I don't have to wear this shit all week, do I?

Erin: Well, despite what your daughter may demand of you, no. I'm just putting it all together so I know what I'm working with. I plan on coming with you to Australia.

Centurion: What? When was that decided?

Erin: Pretty much the moment this match was booked. We're all going - Nell, Allison, everyone.

Centurion: Why was I not informed of this?

Erin: Because you might have said no.

Centurion: I would have said no!

Erin: See? And we didn't really care, so we just decided to do it. Besides, who was going to get you dressed and ready for this match? James Raven?

Centurion: No, I wouldn't do that to the poor guy. Dude has wanted to sleep with me for years. It's like, I get it, I'm really attractive, but you don't need...FUCK!!

(Erin yanks a stray hair from Centurion's eyebrow off his face, causing Centurion to recoil in pain. He grabs his head and turns away from Erin as he lets his frustrations known.)

Centurion: What the fuck?! Why did you do that?

Erin: Because your eyebrows haven't been touched since the Clinton Administration.

Centurion: Well...give me a heads up next time, will you? You can't just pull shit out of my head.

Erin: Fine, ya baby.

(Centurion shakes his head and turns back toward Erin, who continues to work on his eyebrows.)

Erin: After you beat Vita, who are you going to fight?

Centurion: I have a few folks in mind - some people I have on a list.

Erin: You have a list?

Centurion: Every pro wrestler has a list. If they say they don't, they're lying. We all have an idea as to who we want to fight. I've had a few names on my list since I've come back. I've already beaten a bunch of them, but there are some that SON OF A BITCH!!

(Centurion recoils again as Erin pulls out some more hair from his eyebrows.)

Centurion: I hate you!!

Erin: Yeah, but take a look at yourself now.

(Erin hands a mirror over to Centurion who, after a few seconds of grabbing his eye, take it from her. He looks at the mirror and scans himself, revealing the outfit Erin had put him in.)

[Image: cMOeEya.png]

Erin: How do you look?

Centurion: Like I'm gonna cut a bitch.

Erin: Then you're ready.

------Rough surf on the coast, I wish I could've spent the whole day alone------

The "bad guy"? Ha!

Vita, you don't know the definition of the word. I've seen competitors come in off the street after just murdering a man. I have seen rapists and gore addicts be given free reign in this federation. I've seen the previous OWNER of this federation put his employees through all sorts of humiliating and cruel things.

Hell, I've seen you're own mentor, Fuzz, do some pretty sick shit. I've seen him stab dudes with a heroin needle. I've seen him purposely end people's careers. THAT'S a bad guy.

You? Not even close. You don't have it in you.

Sure, you'd like to think you do. You want to believe you're some tough badass who will do whatever she has to in order to get ahead, but those tactics? Those things that you think are "bad"? They're nothing more than annoyances.

You don't have the stomach to do the things that need to be done in order to be truly bad. This isn't me going on some sort of "you can still be saved" lecture, either. This is me just letting you know that the sick shit that makes people truly vile? Like, the kind of thing that makes them so evil that they have no redemption? You weren't made for that. You were made to throw a tantrum when you don't get an extra cookie.

That's your biggest disadvantage against me, Vita. You think I dismiss you because you're a woman or because you're young? No, I dismiss you because I've seen shit that would make you quit this business forever. I've been dragged through the gates of Hell, and I somehow remain the same person today as I was when I first started. Maybe a little greyer, maybe a little slower, but the same nonetheless.

Everything else you say is such bullshit that I doubt you believe any of it yourself. You made me relevant again? Sure, go ahead and think that. Only your little band of misfits would agree with you, and even they might be doing it just to make you feel better. No matter how relevant you think I am, it's at least better than the position you have decided to give yourself, which is nothing more than a hype man for other, more talented wrestlers.

The possibility of me losing my title hasn't even crossed my mind. In fact, I'm already looking ahead to the number one contenders match to see who might be taking your spot as my challenger. By the way, noticed Atara Themis was in that match. I wonder if she'll put up more of a fight than you will. Considering how easily she took your man, I would bet that is a good possibility.

I never felt the need to address the situation with Roman, but since you brought it up, let me just make this quick statement - no, he's not my son. No, there's no way he CAN be my son. It's literally impossible. He looks like me because I look like every white guy on the planet. You can find someone that looks just like me in South Jersey, Northern California, and Norway.

Besides, don't think I don't already have this shit figured out. Roman is some plant you and your buddies came up with to try and troll me. I don't know if he even knows what his role is, but it's clear to me that you and your buddy Thunder Knuckles grabbed him from off the streets somewhere and you have him bouncing around like a mascot on a chain, demanding people pay attention to him and you and whatever else you're peddling. Unfortunately for you and your friends, you've burnt all of your good will already. Everyone knows you're full of shit. You may have gotten away with it if you didn't try and pull that "I'm the actual Anarchy Champion" bullshit. After that happened, anyone with half a brain sees you as nothing more than a walking, breathing Twitter bot, spewing whatever nonsense is shoved into you. Speaking of half a brain!

EDWARD GO FUCK HIMSELF!

You want my arm, big man? Come and get it. Let you in on a little warning, though - you try to come for me again, and I'll make you losing your hand feel like a spa day.

And I know EDWARD will be creeping around somewhere in Australia. So will Gilmour and Knuckles and everyone else in desperate need of a paycheck. I saw that you put out a call to arms. You may think I'm stupid, but let me clear up something for you real quick. I KNEW

put a hit out on me. I KNEW someone was going to come for me.

I just didn't know who it was going to be.

My original thought was that it was going to be Sebastian Duke, but apparently he chickened out. I also thought it might have been Chasm or Trent Gein or any number of those old fucks that I humiliated along the way looking for one last shot at taking me down. Either way, whoever was going to try and blindside me, I was going to get my revenge on one way or another.

I did not expect you.

But that's fine. You needed to do something to prove to everyone that you were no longer a "good girl". You just broke up with Corey and you needed everyone to know that you're a "swuper swerious wresla" and you found your big girl pants. So you took Shane

up on that offer. Good for you. We all start somewhere. But as I said to you before, actions have consequences. You don't get to just do whatever the fuck you want without paying for it in some way.

By the way, the reason I never called you out on your little "flubb"? Maybe it's because I didn't give a fuck? Seriously, why would it matter to me? Fuzz could have beaten Jesus Christ himself and it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference in this match. See, that's the problem with shit talkers in wrestling these days. They think they have some kind of quota to fill. Like, if they don't talk for EXACTLY 15 minutes their head will explode or something. The reason people made a big deal out of you confusing Chris Page for Big Shank is because they have nothing better to do. They have nothing to talk about, so they have to say something. Me? I don't care. It's just further proof that you're a dumb shit.

I get that you want to put down my accomplishments. That's like, your "thing". You gotta say whatever you can to continue to be that "bad guy", but by saying Thunder Knuckles is the only real competition I've had for the belt? Come on, now. Thunder was one step above Peter Gilmour. And while I haven't exactly faced a murderer's row of opponents along the way, it is pretty insulting to Robbie Bourbon, the man who may be the next Universal Champion. After all, it was only a few weeks ago that I beat him. I'm sure you meant to include him, too, and that was just an oversight. Either that, or you think Robbie Bourbon sucks. I'd love to see you try to back up that claim in the ring.

How do you see this going down, Vita? Like, honestly, in your heart? How does this end? You already know it won't be with you winning the Hart Title - in fact, you've barely talked about that as a possibility because even you think that's absurd. So, what? I beat you in an arm wrestling match, you cartwheel up the ramp, and expect me to cry myself to sleep at night because I didn't get to pin you?

Lesson for you, kid - there will be a thousand more of you that come along. Hell, we already have Geri Miller, and she has all the talent in the world. Granted, she's a bit of a black void in terms of charisma, but I have a feeling she'll be passing you on the totem pole before it's all said and done. You're not the next great superstar, you're the next...

Dolly Waters. Or Thaddeus Duke. Or any other young "can't miss" superstar that was destined to be a household name five years from now only to completely flame out before most gymnasts do. And every once and a while, someone will say "hey, remember that Vita girl?" And others will scratch their head and go "yeah, maybe, kinda", and they will move on. Meanwhile, you're sitting at home watching Price Is Right and you're yelling at your kid's principal because he called you to let you know the kid was caught smoking reefer in the bathroom and blowing the janitor again.

THAT is when I'll truly have my revenge. Because despite all your words, all you're little speeches, all your antics - I will always and forever be immortalized in the halls of this federation. People will know my name far after I'm dead. And when I'm lying in state at the Capitol, with heads of state and dignitaries mourning my death, and the most famous and most successful people on the planet are eulogizing me, your little crotch goblin will get to tell people "my mom lost to him while he wore a dress."

I'm a chapter in history, and you're barely a footnote. But hey, you're the one keeping ME relevant, right?

Whatever you say kid. Enjoy yourself on the Sunday. It will be the last time anyone gives a shit about you.

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