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Post by The Outsiders on Jun 25, 2022 16:50:59 GMT -6
Scene One - A few days before the Pay Per View Hell on Earth at the Saints Mansion.
Robert has just woken up and starts his day with a big breakfast made by his stepmom Jenna.
Robert Saints: In a few short days I'm going to fight the two other men involved in the championship match in Damon Cross who is the reigning and defending ECWF World Heavyweight Champion and the other guy is Kevin Hunter.
Jenna has made Robert some scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast and turkey bacon. Robert kisses Jenna on the forehead before he starts eating his breakfast.
Robert Saints: Damon, you're the reigning champion here in ECWF so you know a thing or two about having a target on your back but news flash I am a world champion everywhere I have been in my career and that's not going to change any time soon especially this Sunday live on Pay Per View.
Robert's wife Kelly Robinson comes into the room and steals a piece of Robert's bacon.
Robert Saints: Then we have Kevin Hunter, you're only in this match because management felt sorry for you and added you into the match to give it more of an appeal and also to make sure that I don't win but that's not going to be happening.
Robert finishes eating his breakfast and then puts the dishes in the sink.
Robert now heads to his in-house gym in the basement before he begins working out on the bench press.
Robert Saints: Damon, are you willing to do whatever it takes in order to leave Hell on Earth as still the ECWF World Heavyweight Champion, because if you're not then you can kiss your championship good bye. I'm not afraid to say to you, Kevin and everyone else that I'm willing to do whatever it takes in order to walk away the new ECWF World Heavyweight Champion.
Robert is lifting three hundred pounds on the bench press as there is a spotter to make sure the weight isn't too much for Robert to lift.
Robert Saints: Kevin, I know that you're practically salivating at the chance of walking out as the new champion but you're going to have to actually get your hands dirty if you hope to win this match. Kevin, you're a great wrestler but are you on the level of yours truly or Damon? I don't think so, you're only as good as you think that you are and I'm here to burst that bubble of yours and bring you back down to reality in this triple threat match.
Robert continues working out in the gym as the scene fades to black.
End of Scene One.
Scene Two - A few hours before the triple threat match. Robert is in his locker room pacing back and forth before the match.
Robert Saints: Damon and Kevin, the two of you are in for a world of hurt when this match commences because you're not facing some newbie or some washed up hasbeen but instead I'm a fourth generation wrestler who has a boatload of experience so I'm not going to be falling for either of your tricks or shenanigans during this triple threat match tonight live on Pay Per View.
Robert grabs a water bottle from the fridge and starts drinking some water hoping to calm himself down before the match.
Robert Saints: This is my first opportunity at the ECWF World Heavyweight Championship but it won't be the last time I will challenge for the championship so whether I win or lose, I'm still coming out of this match as a winner. I have forgotten more about this business than either of you will ever know.
Robert has finished the bottle of water and throws it away in the right container to be recycled.
Robert Saints: Tonight I reach the top of the mountain as I become the new world champion and I bring back some prestige to the ECWF World Heavyweight Championship. Damon, you're on borrowed time because by the end of the night that world championship will be around my waist. The Outsiders are tired of everyone stepping over us as we are beginning our quest to take over ECWF.
Robert tapes up his wrists and takes one last look at himself in the mirror.
Robert Saints: Kevin, you had better bring your A-game against myself and Damon tonight otherwise it might be better if you didn't show up at all to this match.
Robert Saints turns on the television and starts watching an old episode of Friday Night Revolution as the scene fades away to a commercial break.
End of Scene Two.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2022 20:30:40 GMT -6
Father Knows Best ECWF PRESENTS: HELL ON EARTH Triple Threat Match for the World Heavyweight Championship Robert Saints vs. Kevin Hunter vs. Damon Cross (C) Happy Father’s Day.
It never meant much to Damon when he was young, since his father was never around. Living as an example of a moment of weakness did not endear him to the idea, either. Where you come from counts for a lot with some people, and considering the source, and his mother’s opinion of them, Damon’s home life was… less than stellar. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even meet his father until a few years ago.
Barely a month or two before the man died of cancer.
Happy Fucking Father’s Day.
And even now, a few days removed from his and his wife’s first wedding anniversary, that special-to-some, nothing-to-others day seemed just like any other Sunday. Leina, as per usual, kept to herself in her room. Danielle decided to break her self-imposed quarantine and go into town to gather things for dinner that evening, clearly deciding that they should celebrate the day.
And Damon himself?
When the heart is weighed upon and there is no outlet for the mind to unravel and loosen itself from the grip of stress and chaos, there is only one answer: exercise. Because, after all, it is not as if he had nothing to prepare for, right? A Last Man Standing match in the ruins of his childhood with the anarchist bastard known as Johnny Towers and, of course, his title defense against Robert Saints and Kevin Hunter at Hell on Earth. A successful man is a busy man, after all.
And that’s where Cross is when the call comes in, catching him between sets as if through some manner of peculiar serendipity. The phone goes off to the tune of The HU’s “Wolf Totem” and he picks it up, mopping sweat from his brow.
”Javier. What’s happening?”
”Checking in, Jefe. Under orders of la reina.”
The last part is added in with a chuckle, prompting a half-grin from Damon as he sips from a bottle of water.
”She talked you into something with her feminine wiles, eh?”
”’Ey, nothin’ wrong with celebratin’. I mean, you ARE a dad now, right?””
”More like ‘Pops’ than dad. But that’s something.”
Laughter emits from the other end of the line.
”Right, see? That’s what I’m talkin’ about. La Reina asked us to show up later this evenin’ for dinner. Bringin’ some goodies with us. Just makin’ sure we check in first.”
It isn’t that Damon is taken aback so much as pleasantly surprised that Danni is doing her utmost to incorporate his friends and business partners into their lives more. It is heartening. Still, that middling voice in the back of Damon’s head makes him wonder why this day should be any different.
”She ought to be back soon. I expect an hour or so after that we’ll be ready to receive you. Everyone is coming, I expect?”
”The whole lot, jefe. Leave the drinks to us. Carmen’s giving me a look, though. I best go see what’s up. See you this evening.”
A sharp voice sounds off before the call is cut out, and Damon laughs to himself, realizing that Javier must have been speaking to him while instead he was meant to be doing something else. Putting his phone in his pocket, he gathers his things and decides to head upstairs for a shower, emerging a little while later dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt.
The house is fairly quiet at this moment save for soft singing and the clink of dishes in the kitchen. However, further down the second floor hall there is music coming from Leina’s room.
Familiar tunes. And Damon is sure that he can hear some sniffling beneath it all.
Not a good sign.
*knock* *knock* *knock* Loud enough to be heard over the music, quiet enough to not be imposing. The rule in the house is that the knock is more of a signal than a request, a moment in which Leina can state whether things are decent or not. Damon opens the door and carefully peers in, seeing the young woman sitting at her desk, watching videos of her father, Markus Rael, and his band performing.
That explains that.
Happy Motherfucking Father’s Day.
”Even though I’m more or less a pretender.”
However, that has never been nor will it become a source of bitterness. Leina has accepted Damon even if sometimes he doubts whether he has accepted himself in the same way. He walks over to the young lady, setting his hands gently on her shoulder. She turns to look up at him, closing the laptop and wiping her nose.
”Dad…”
Damn if his heart doesn’t bounce a bit in the rare instances that she refers to him as such. Yet all he can think of is how seriously he doesn’t want to screw this up. If only being a good father were as easy as choking someone out or dropping them on their head in the middle of the ring. If only holding the belt up high under the shining lights was all it took to succeed.
When wrestling is easier than something… that means it’s fucking hard.
Damon gives her shoulders a little squeeze and the girl rises, turning into him and hugging tight. He knew this day would be rough for her. Understanding was easy enough. Her breathing, however, was rapid… and in mere moments hot tears soaked through the cotton of his shirt. The poor child.
”Breathe, Li. Slow down.”
She manages, after a fashion, calming the cadence of her breathing. But nothing hides those tear-reddened eyes peering up at him from below.
"Dad, I... I'm sorry. I've been trying my best all day."
"I would never ask any more than that. This day is hard for you and your mother. That's why I've... given you space. Father's Day only matters to me because of the two of you."
Firmly shaking her head, making her hair toss about, Leina stares defiantly up at Damon. Lovingly defiant.
"This is your day. We're supposed to celebrate you. I didn't want to ruin that. That's why I've been trying my best..."
”And the effort is appreciated.”
He takes a knee in front of her and Leina reinforces her hug, squeezing him tight. Damon returns the gesture in kind and finds himself in awe of the size of the girl’s heart. One could forget how sweet and loving she could be considering how much she curses and how quick she is to threaten violence to defend the honor of those she loves.
”When she’s old enough to back up her words, the world better look out.”
The very thought amuses him, oddly enough. Months ago, Damon would have worried about Leina’s outbursts and the trouble it sometimes gets her into. And he would have looked down on himself for not curbing them before they happened. But he is learning. So is she.
”Actually, I was hoping I could ask a favor… before your mother finishes making dinner.”
”Huh? I mean, sure… what is it?”
”Well, I need someone to tend to the camera while I address a few people who are coming to try and take my title-”
”Oh, those butt-brains? Robert and Kenny or some shit?”
He shouldn’t find her cursing as amusing as he does. Considering the difficulty of the day, though, he is willing to let it slide. More so because her screwing up Hunter’s name makes him grin.
”Kevin, Li. Kevin Hunter.”
”Right. Kenny Humped Her.”
Yeah, now she’s doing it on purpose. But why the hell not, if it made her smile?
”So is that a yes?”
Leina grins and nods.
”Absolutely. And I can almost promise that I won’t talk smack from behind the camera. Almost.”
”Your sacrifice is admirable, princess. Extra dessert for you.”
”WOO!”
And the bouncing and spinning commences. Damon laughs and gets to his feet, offering his hand to Leina, who takes it eagerly.
”Let’s take care of it now, shall we? I already have everything on the porch. My friends will be here soon so I’d rather handle business first, okay?”
It is with enthusiasm that she agrees, squeezing his hand before bolting out of the room and down the steps. Damon slowly follows after her, still shaking his head a bit. Danielle pokes her head out of the kitchen to look after Leina, wondering what she’s up to, but her attempt to call out to the young lady turns into a squeak when Damon lays a firm palm to her backside!
Danni gives a start and whirls around, right into a kiss from her loving husband. Thankfully he parts from her before she can melt onto the floor.
”Smells wonderful, my queen. La Lealtad called and they’ll be here soon, bringing drinks and whatever else you requested of them.”
”Oh, is Li going out to meet them?”
”No, she’s on camera duty. I have to address a few people before we celebrate and she was happy to help. You, however, can shake your full moon back into that kitchen and keep up the good work. I’m eager to see what you’re cooking up.”
Some might call that comment chauvinistic, perhaps misogynistic, but Damon meant it neither way and Danni took it neither way. He was excited to taste her cooking, which she had been practicing so hard on. How could that be taken wrong? So she nods with a smile and does just that… but not before poking out from behind the door and getting a slap in on Damon’s ass in response to his own loving assault, giggling and disappearing into the kitchen again before he could retort, leaving him to head out with a smile.
Time to do business. Bloody, violent business.
Cameras on, boys and girls.
“John Gone. Night Rider. La Envidia Mata.”
The names are rattled off one at a time as Damon sits upon a carved chair, bugs chirping loudly in the late evening air. It is very still here, save for the man himself, perched upon his porch as the sky turns from the color of sapphires to that of topaz and eventually ruby before becoming as obsidian. For each name, he slips a card from the deck in his hand, send it slicing through the air and into a black hat lying upside down near the steps. Some cards are scattered about it, either on the porch or the grass. Several lie within the fedora.
The champion barely looks at the camera, expecting his tone and statement to hold the attention of those watching.
Damon Cross: “Do you recognize those names, Robert? How about you, Kevin? Ring any bells? Some distant memory from a match you caught on YouTube back in the day? No?”
A faint, sardonic smile from the Redeemer. Another card tossed into the hat. The jack of hearts, it appears.
Damon Cross: “Didn’t think so. Why bring them up, then? Why bring up a psychological and psychotic creature who went all Cask of Amontillado on some poor masked man and his cute waifu? Why talk about a seven-foot-plus monster who could make Jason Voorhees crap his overalls? Or even bring up a child-molesting sociopath without limits either in or out of the ring?”
The card tossing seems to be a relaxation exercise in the end, serving no real purpose other than to give Damon something to focus on as he speaks, almost amicably, at his Hell on Earth opponents.
He does, however, get to the point.
Damon Cross: “Why bring up three non-entities to today’s wrestling fan as I’m about to face two dangerous, determined men who want to take my title from me?
As an example, of course. Much like the two of you, they talked a great game. Their antics got the attention of folks and, as a result, got them opportunities. Now, whether they earned those opportunities is up for debate, but we’re not here to discuss that. They, like you, got their shots one way or another but never through their success in the ring. They, like you, counted on perception and presentation to do the work for them. And much like them…”
Coming down to the last card, the king of hearts, the suicide king, Damon holds it up for the camera to see and, without looking, flicks it right into the hat.
Damon Cross: “...I expect when I ask people about the two of you some years down the road, when I’m wearing Hall of Fame rings on both hands and have enough title belts in my trophy room to outshine the sun, that they won’t remember the two of you, either.”
Leina Rael-Anderson: “Translation: y’all don’t rate. Kenny done got his shot and whiffed it like Casey Jones. Robert? I don’t know him and I done forgot him already!”
Any trace of a smile vanishes from the champion’s face. Leina’s addition briefly amuses him, but there’s nothing funny about his feelings on Kevin or Robert. Not even a little. He reaches into a leather case by his seat and takes out the ECWF World Heavyweight Championship. The belt is polished to a pristine shine, catching the waning sunlight as he holds it up with a glare.
Damon Cross: “You two didn’t earn this opportunity. But you HAVE earned every inch of the fight that you’re about to get at Hell on Earth. Because in case it isn’t already clear, I have a problem with people who are entitled. When someone decides to coast on their past glories, considering that a key to open the so-called Forbidden Door, leaping ahead of people who bust their asses just to be considered for such a shot? That’s a problem. It sets a dangerous precedent. In such a world, anyone off the street could saunter up and say they deserve a shot because they won a scrap with some drunk hobo on a pile of broken Budweiser bottles and McDonald’s wrappers. And that would be that.
THAT, Robert. THAT, Kevin. That is my problem with the two of you. That is how much your claims to being worthy of a shot at me, to even dream of holding this title legitimately, makes me want to puke.”
Leina Rael-Anderson: “Making Pops nauseous before a big, fancy dinner? That’s some bullshit, boys.”
A snicker emits from behind the camera. Damon would usually acknowledge this with a little grin, but not this time. He’s focused, dead-on, staring down the barrel of a triple threat at Hell on Earth. There is no breaking this violent zen. He rises to his feet, draping the title over his shoulder and descending the steps as the camera backs up.
Damon Cross: “But what am I going to do about it, I can hear you squawking? Certainly not fly off at the mouth like you, Kevin. You’re a walking catchphrase machine, peppering in threats and having your hangers-on spout off in the background to boost your confidence and, at least temporarily, helping you to sound interesting. When I talk, people listen. When you bark, people reach for the remote. There’s less substance to you than the interior of a politician’s head. You’re little more than wrestling’s answer to a post turtle at this point. And if you don’t get the reference, go look it up.
The gist of it, in case you’re really that lazy, is this: no one has any idea how you got to this point, but they damn sure know that you don’t belong here. Not even with five world championships on your resume. What have you done lately, Kevin, other than get busted open by yours truly, only to require an army of malcontents to score a win in a tag match and somehow find your way back into MY ring for MY title? I don’t call shenanigans; I call bullshit. You can mark this, Hunter: this is the last damn time you’ll get a shot at this title so long as I hold it. Know what that means? It means you’re fucked, pal. Washed, rinsed and motherfucking conditioned.”
Leina Rael-Anderson: “Swing and a miss! Better luck never!”
Snorting out a harsh laugh, Damon looks past the camera, toward the mountains.
Damon Cross: “Hell on Earth. Fitting. I’m going to turn that ring into hell for you AND Robert. No, don’t think I forgot about you, Saints. Wouldn’t dream of it. The problem… is that there’s barely anything to be said about you, is there? From all that I can find, you’re more or less a carbon copy of more famous, more talented wrestlers, here aping off the hard work of others to try and create yourself a proper identity. Wrong place, wrong time, Robert. Too many people lately have made the mistake of considering me a steppingstone, not believing for a moment that I would take that stone and smash them into submission. That’s another irksome thing about this: the lot of you never seem to accept the truth no matter how many times you’re smashed in the skull with it.”
A few hard steps are taken toward the stationary camera, the belt all but jammed into it, giving the world a very up-close look at the proverbial ten pounds of gold.
Damon Cross: “THIS. IS. MINE!”
Leina Rael-Anderson: “FOREVER!”
He turns to stare hard at the belt, then back at the camera.
Damon Cross: “And it will CONTINUE to be mine until I decide otherwise! Until someone comes along who is better than me! Until someone comes along who can do more for the ECWF than I can! The two of you are NEITHER of these things! I will prove this at Hell on Earth!”
Backing up a few steps while running a hand through his dark, unbound hair, Damon adjusts the belt on his shoulder, dusting it off a little.
Damon Cross: “Robert, Kevin… you are the epitome of what’s wrong with the wrestling business these days. Entitled. Unoriginal. Lazy. You had to sell your soul, Kevin, or what passed for it, to gain the confidence and persona to reach a point where you feel ready to take this title. But it’s just smoke and mirrors. A poor joke. At least Night Rider had size. You’re another clone in a long line of wannabe-baddies, destined to be defeated, dredged up again only to serve as an example of how not to do business in the ring.
And as for you, Robert? No identity to speak of, no original thoughts… seemingly nothing at all to say. The strong, silent type, perhaps? Charisma still counts. If nothing else, John Gone had that much. Like him or not, he made you sit up and take notice… until you realized that he was a one-trick pony. You don’t even have that, Robert. Perhaps your family didn’t teach you as well as they should have. They were too soft, too lenient. You needed someone like Hiashi Shinsuma to break you down and build you up. A stiff wind and a bolt of lightning would ruin your day at this point… so imagine how it will feel when I’m twisting you into submission in front of the world? That will serve as a better lesson than anything your blood imparted upon you. Tell them, when you see them after Hell on Earth, that they did you a disservice.”
Leina Rael-Anderson: “Cold… but Pops ain’t wrong.”
Damon Cross: “I AM showing up, Robert. And when I’m done putting you through the canvas, you’ll address me as ‘sir’ or else I’ll punt you into the cheap seats. Your tag title reign in the ECWF means less than nothing to me and your admission of world titles everywhere else? That just makes you sound like Kevin Hunter… only a cheaper version. Same question, Saints: what have you done lately?
After Hell on Earth, the answer will be ‘suffer’. Suffer alongside Hunter. Because misery loves company and I am a giving champion.”
Leina Rael-Anderson: “...got REAL cold all of a sudden!”
He ponders slightly, then exhales… almost sadly. But why?
Damon Cross: “Not the way a so-called white hat should be talking, is it? I’m supposed to be positive and encouraging, aren’t I? For all the kids watching from home and in the stands? I should be setting an example, fighting the good fight, all that…”
He spits on the grass.
Damon Cross: “...but this situation, this match, demands dirty, bloody hands. Sometimes good people have to do good things, otherwise the world will never change for the better. This is the Era of Redemption. Someone has to make the hard choices and take the heat for doing violent, harsh things to turn the world around for the better. If that makes me bad, so be it. I’ll wear the mantle happily. Doing the right thing, after all, seldom makes you a hero. What it gets you is respect and a life you can be proud of when the end comes.
But where respect is concerned, I don’t want it from either of you. And neither of you will get it from me. At Hell on Earth, you’ll be crushed under the weight of your sins, and whatever is left will be scattered to the winds. I’ll walk over whatever is left and move on to the next challenge, forgetting your names and that you ever existed… no matter how loudly you scream my name.”
Turning on his heel, Damon walks off into the lengthening shadows of evening as the scene fades out.
After all, it's Father's Day.
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