Post by soulshadow on Feb 23, 2013 5:45:17 GMT 1
[The camera opens on a large gym. The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows highlights various unused equipment such as barbells, punching bags, and jump ropes lying strewn about the room. ]
[The younger man has Soul trapped in the middle of the ring, held in a side headlock. With a few solid forearms, the veteran manages to break free. Swiftly, he throws his training partner to the ropes. As his opponent rebounds, Soul drops his head in apparent preparation for a sort of back body drop. Unfortunately, it is one second too early, allowing the sparring partner to nail a vicious DDT for a counter.]
[The former champion looks to be unconscious in the middle of the ring, but the younger man is not in the mood to give sympathy. Seeing an opportunity, he swiftly jumps to the nearest corner. With youthful agility, he pulls himself to the top turnbuckle. An enormous victory smile crosses his lips as he launches himself for a picture-perfect frogsplash.]
[The smile disappears in mid-air when he realizes Soul was playing possum. With perfect timing, the veteran pulls his knees into a defensive position. His sparring partner crashes hard into them, rolling to the side in agony. With stunning speed Soul follows, actually managing to pull his opponent onto his shoulders. He spins to his right, tossing the younger man in that direction. Using the momentum to his advantage, Soul then follows with a cutter so powerful the entire ring shakes. Despite the lack of a ref, he instinctively finishes with a cover.]
Unseen Voice: One! Two! Three!
[The veteran wrestler raises his head in surprise, staring in the direction of the three-count. Approaching the ring is an olive-skinned man, about Soul’s age, dressed in a fine Italian suit. His jet black-hair is pulled into a pony-tail, highlighting the sharp features of his stunning face. He leans against the ring apron while Soul checks on his sparring partner.]
Visitor: Looking like you never took any time off, buddy.
[With a sarcastic smile, Soul pulls himself over the top rope and lands gracefully next to his friend.]
Soul: Well, Mr. Jeffrey Agrela, it looks to me like you need an eye appointment. My timing was off on my attempted backbody drop, which gave my opponent an enormous opening. Plus, a more experience wrestler ain’t gonna fall for the “landing on the knees” move.
[Agrela pulls a bottle of water from inside his jacket, handing it to his friend.]
Agrela: Oh, come on. Since I joined your sports agency, I’ve seen a lot of wrestlers in action. And there are people who’ve been main-eventing cards on a weekly basis for the past year who haven’t looked as sharp as you do.
Soul (after taking a healthy drink of water): If you say so, buddy. I’ve got a little more practice and fine-tuning to go before my match on this weekend.
Agrela: Yeah, your match. Second one of the card. (shaking his head) I can’t believe you agreed to that.
Soul: Agreed to what?
Agrela: Being second on the card is almost like being a curtain-jerker! Soul, you are two-time former World Heavyweight Champion! Hell, you were the inaugural champion of one of the biggest organizations in the history of the sport! You ought to be in the title match, instead of that green rookie!
Soul (rolling his eyes): If this was around when Hunter was born, I’d agree with you. However, as you pointed out, it’s been a decade since I came into the ring. Since then, others have been busting their ass in the ring, day in and day out. Guys like Storm Killer, who despite being a rookie already has one title under his belt. Guys like Cayden King, whose wrestled in nearly every country in the Western world in the past few years. And you’re telling me to piss over all the hard work they’ve done by demanding a title shot based off of my success from TEN YEARS ago? That would be some major Brahma Bull---t for me to even think of doing that.
Agrela: Alright, alright, I see your point.
[Soul throws a towel over his shoulder and begins to walk towards the locker room.]
Soul: Besides, given who my opponent is, I wouldn’t consider this match to be low profile.
Agrela (walking with his friend): Ah, yes. Mr. John Fisherman. He’s made quite a few waves in MCCW’s young life. Declaring himself King of the World, beating the crap out of Shane Young, surprising everyone by hooking up with Paige…
Soul: That last one didn’t surprise me.
Agrela: Really, because the entire MCCW fanbase seemed shocked.
Soul: I don’t know why. Only a Fisherman could handle the crabs she has.
[Agrela suddenly stops, his face frozen in shock at the brash comment. It quickly dissolves into one of intense amusement as he howls in laughter. Soul calmly waits for him to catch his breath.]
Agrela (red-faced): Dude… I… can’t… believe… you… said… that!
[Soul just gives his friend a wry grin. Agrela shakes his head as his amusement slowly subsides.]
Agrela: Seriously, though, I agree they couldn’t have picked a tougher foe for your first match back. It almost seems the wrestling gods have it out for you.
Soul: Actually, I think this match is a perfect one for my return, considering I’ll be playing with house money.
Agrela: House money?
Soul: You better believe it. As you said, he took it right to Shane, a retired veteran like me. However, one who hasn’t been out of the game as long. Hell, he had just main-evented MCCW’s opening card only a month prior. So you think people are expecting me, who hasn’t stepped into a competitive ring in a decade, to walk out a winner?
Agrela: Hell no. Vegas odds are overwhelmingly in Fisherman’s favor.
Soul: Exactly. So all of the pressure is on him this weekend. Given he’s been active for quite a while and in the prime of his career, he’s supposed to beat an older wrestler just coming out of retirement. This match shouldn’t even give him a sweat.
[Soul stops and faces his friend with newly shining eyes.]
Soul: But what if he happens to lose? What happens to his grand claims then? His reputation will take an enormous hit. The fear he is trying to instill in the locker room will disappear like smoke. His “kingdom” will be overthrown before it even got started.
[Soul grabs Agrela’s shoulders.]
Soul: Trust me, he is the one who everything on the line in this match, not me. I’ve got no pressure. No one expects me to win after so long. That gives me freedom. That makes me loose. That makes it… fun for me.
Agrela (with a raised eyebrow): Really?
Soul: Of course. History is littered with guys who overcame the odds, simply because no one expected them to pull it off and their opponents underestimated them. The Patriots first Super Bowl, the Giants two recent titles, the Ravens this year… Buster Douglas… Tara Lipinski… Sarah Hughes…
Agrela: You’re going with figure skaters? Really?
Soul: Don’t laugh, buddy. Sarah and Tara had nothing to lose as no one expected them to even contend for the gold, so they skated without pressure and ended up giving the performance of their lives. Meanwhile, Michelle Kwan went into both those Olympics with the weight of expectation on her shoulders and cracked like an egg.
[Soul once again starts heading for the locker room.]
Soul: That’s exactly is what this match will be like, Jeff. No one expects me to even give John a challenge. If things don’t go exactly as planned, he’s gonna start getting tight. He’s gonna start over-extending himself to win. And when he does…
[Soul pounds his fists together.]
Soul: …I’ve got him right where I want him.
Agrela (nodding in agreement): Looks like the Fisherman might have more than he can handle on this line.
Soul: You know it, bud.
[Agrela slaps his friend on the back as the two head for the locker room. The scene slowly fades to black…]
[The younger man has Soul trapped in the middle of the ring, held in a side headlock. With a few solid forearms, the veteran manages to break free. Swiftly, he throws his training partner to the ropes. As his opponent rebounds, Soul drops his head in apparent preparation for a sort of back body drop. Unfortunately, it is one second too early, allowing the sparring partner to nail a vicious DDT for a counter.]
[The former champion looks to be unconscious in the middle of the ring, but the younger man is not in the mood to give sympathy. Seeing an opportunity, he swiftly jumps to the nearest corner. With youthful agility, he pulls himself to the top turnbuckle. An enormous victory smile crosses his lips as he launches himself for a picture-perfect frogsplash.]
[The smile disappears in mid-air when he realizes Soul was playing possum. With perfect timing, the veteran pulls his knees into a defensive position. His sparring partner crashes hard into them, rolling to the side in agony. With stunning speed Soul follows, actually managing to pull his opponent onto his shoulders. He spins to his right, tossing the younger man in that direction. Using the momentum to his advantage, Soul then follows with a cutter so powerful the entire ring shakes. Despite the lack of a ref, he instinctively finishes with a cover.]
Unseen Voice: One! Two! Three!
[The veteran wrestler raises his head in surprise, staring in the direction of the three-count. Approaching the ring is an olive-skinned man, about Soul’s age, dressed in a fine Italian suit. His jet black-hair is pulled into a pony-tail, highlighting the sharp features of his stunning face. He leans against the ring apron while Soul checks on his sparring partner.]
Visitor: Looking like you never took any time off, buddy.
[With a sarcastic smile, Soul pulls himself over the top rope and lands gracefully next to his friend.]
Soul: Well, Mr. Jeffrey Agrela, it looks to me like you need an eye appointment. My timing was off on my attempted backbody drop, which gave my opponent an enormous opening. Plus, a more experience wrestler ain’t gonna fall for the “landing on the knees” move.
[Agrela pulls a bottle of water from inside his jacket, handing it to his friend.]
Agrela: Oh, come on. Since I joined your sports agency, I’ve seen a lot of wrestlers in action. And there are people who’ve been main-eventing cards on a weekly basis for the past year who haven’t looked as sharp as you do.
Soul (after taking a healthy drink of water): If you say so, buddy. I’ve got a little more practice and fine-tuning to go before my match on this weekend.
Agrela: Yeah, your match. Second one of the card. (shaking his head) I can’t believe you agreed to that.
Soul: Agreed to what?
Agrela: Being second on the card is almost like being a curtain-jerker! Soul, you are two-time former World Heavyweight Champion! Hell, you were the inaugural champion of one of the biggest organizations in the history of the sport! You ought to be in the title match, instead of that green rookie!
Soul (rolling his eyes): If this was around when Hunter was born, I’d agree with you. However, as you pointed out, it’s been a decade since I came into the ring. Since then, others have been busting their ass in the ring, day in and day out. Guys like Storm Killer, who despite being a rookie already has one title under his belt. Guys like Cayden King, whose wrestled in nearly every country in the Western world in the past few years. And you’re telling me to piss over all the hard work they’ve done by demanding a title shot based off of my success from TEN YEARS ago? That would be some major Brahma Bull---t for me to even think of doing that.
Agrela: Alright, alright, I see your point.
[Soul throws a towel over his shoulder and begins to walk towards the locker room.]
Soul: Besides, given who my opponent is, I wouldn’t consider this match to be low profile.
Agrela (walking with his friend): Ah, yes. Mr. John Fisherman. He’s made quite a few waves in MCCW’s young life. Declaring himself King of the World, beating the crap out of Shane Young, surprising everyone by hooking up with Paige…
Soul: That last one didn’t surprise me.
Agrela: Really, because the entire MCCW fanbase seemed shocked.
Soul: I don’t know why. Only a Fisherman could handle the crabs she has.
[Agrela suddenly stops, his face frozen in shock at the brash comment. It quickly dissolves into one of intense amusement as he howls in laughter. Soul calmly waits for him to catch his breath.]
Agrela (red-faced): Dude… I… can’t… believe… you… said… that!
[Soul just gives his friend a wry grin. Agrela shakes his head as his amusement slowly subsides.]
Agrela: Seriously, though, I agree they couldn’t have picked a tougher foe for your first match back. It almost seems the wrestling gods have it out for you.
Soul: Actually, I think this match is a perfect one for my return, considering I’ll be playing with house money.
Agrela: House money?
Soul: You better believe it. As you said, he took it right to Shane, a retired veteran like me. However, one who hasn’t been out of the game as long. Hell, he had just main-evented MCCW’s opening card only a month prior. So you think people are expecting me, who hasn’t stepped into a competitive ring in a decade, to walk out a winner?
Agrela: Hell no. Vegas odds are overwhelmingly in Fisherman’s favor.
Soul: Exactly. So all of the pressure is on him this weekend. Given he’s been active for quite a while and in the prime of his career, he’s supposed to beat an older wrestler just coming out of retirement. This match shouldn’t even give him a sweat.
[Soul stops and faces his friend with newly shining eyes.]
Soul: But what if he happens to lose? What happens to his grand claims then? His reputation will take an enormous hit. The fear he is trying to instill in the locker room will disappear like smoke. His “kingdom” will be overthrown before it even got started.
[Soul grabs Agrela’s shoulders.]
Soul: Trust me, he is the one who everything on the line in this match, not me. I’ve got no pressure. No one expects me to win after so long. That gives me freedom. That makes me loose. That makes it… fun for me.
Agrela (with a raised eyebrow): Really?
Soul: Of course. History is littered with guys who overcame the odds, simply because no one expected them to pull it off and their opponents underestimated them. The Patriots first Super Bowl, the Giants two recent titles, the Ravens this year… Buster Douglas… Tara Lipinski… Sarah Hughes…
Agrela: You’re going with figure skaters? Really?
Soul: Don’t laugh, buddy. Sarah and Tara had nothing to lose as no one expected them to even contend for the gold, so they skated without pressure and ended up giving the performance of their lives. Meanwhile, Michelle Kwan went into both those Olympics with the weight of expectation on her shoulders and cracked like an egg.
[Soul once again starts heading for the locker room.]
Soul: That’s exactly is what this match will be like, Jeff. No one expects me to even give John a challenge. If things don’t go exactly as planned, he’s gonna start getting tight. He’s gonna start over-extending himself to win. And when he does…
[Soul pounds his fists together.]
Soul: …I’ve got him right where I want him.
Agrela (nodding in agreement): Looks like the Fisherman might have more than he can handle on this line.
Soul: You know it, bud.
[Agrela slaps his friend on the back as the two head for the locker room. The scene slowly fades to black…]