Post by Union Jack on Sept 19, 2019 18:31:07 GMT -5
Black and white shaky footage starts from the hallways of the upper sections of ‘The View’. Shifting into an office, revealing, none over than, Chris Parsons sat behind a desk waving the camera man away.
“Nope, nope nope…fuck no…I Ain’t got time for this shit…” clearly annoyed, ‘The Nightmare’ gets up storming the camera with a sense of urgency; pushing the cameraman out of his office. “Knock next time or be knocked the fuck out…” closing the door in our collective face.
Just before the door closes, a greeting is heard, “United States Penitentiary…”
CUT
David Sinclair is seen backstage at The View. His phone is pressed firmly against the side of his head and he paces up and down the corridor nodding his head.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” Sinclair nods his head to nobody.
“Yeah, I just spoke to him.” He nods.
“Well, that’s what he said.”
“That’s right. Purple. With Stars.”
“Not a clue.”
“No. He doesn’t want…” Sinclair stops and stares at the camera. “…. He doesn’t want his opponent to know.”
“No, Sorry… Camera is here shooting for Existing as Non… That’s right, it’s a CUT.” Sinclair nods.
“Yup. No. No, the opponent doesn’t want Archer to know who they are either.” Sinclair shakes his head with a sigh.
“Can you make it happen?” Sinclair waits… then smiles.
“Good! I can’t wait. Take care Tony.” Smiling, Sinclair hangs up the phone and walks off down the corridor.”
CUT
Shaky camera work bounds us all around as a sea of humanity floods the camera’s viewfinder…
Joey LaDude is decked out in his purple finery as Arian Styles and several backstage crew do their best to separate the luchador and the former wrestler.
“Coño culo perra!” The Spanish taunt is followed by the masked rookie known as Pequeño Dinosaurio launching a right hand straight into the face of LaDude.
As more agents, security and backstage staff get involved, LaDude screams at the masked man, “I’m gonna sue you for every peso your papi has!”
CUT
As Sinclair rounds a corner his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks attempting in vein to turn around unnoticed until…
“Hey there he is.”
“Hey! Wait! Mr. Sinclair, you have a moment?” Sinclair stops and hangs his head as Dan Chase and Barry Andrews rush up toward him. He sighs.
“Sure Dan. I can spare a few.” He turns and forces a smile on his face. “Hi Ben..”
“It’s Barry.”
“Barry… Right…” Sinclair nods. “What can I do for you?”
“Listen, David..” Chase wrings his hands, somewhat uncomfortably. “About that thing we discussed the other week…”
“Sorry Dan, gonna have to clarify..”
“The extra workload… The new referee, remember?” Case responds somewhat uncomfortably, shooting a look at the camera.
“Oh. Right. Sure… Listen guys… We have been auditioning but…” Sinclair shrugs. “Nobody we’ve found so far fits the image we want to project here in GCW. I think we’ve found someone who will be a great fit but eh… Well, she has other obligations for the time being.”
“She?” Barry smiles raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, She.” Sinclair returns the smirk. “Look, just give us a couple more weeks and, I promise, everything will become clear.”
The two men look at one another as if in a silent conference. They nod, and Chase turns back to Sinclair.
“Ok. Sure. A couple of weeks.”
“That’s great” Sinclair smiles. “I’ll see you guys at Onslaught.”
CUT
Standing outside a solid mahogany door, Sinclair looks at the door grimly. “Might as well get this over with…
Sighing, Sinclair straightens his blue collar, adjusts his grey jacket and approaches the door…just as he raises his hand to knock, it opens.
In full tweed jacket, the number one contender to the GCW World Championship emerges, leaving Sinclair slack jawed.
Tipping his non existent hat in the way of Sinclair as the door shuts, Riot passes by with a simple, “David.” Before continuing down the hall to disappear around a corner.
Picking out his phone, a series of taps and it’s ringing. “I know. But I thought you might want to know…they’re talking.” A pause allowed a moment for the other party pose the question of ‘who?’
“Parsons and Riot. I’ll find out what I can.”
CUT
Deep within the heart of ‘The View’, Joey LaDude is fuming mad. Sporting a black eye courtesy of his altercation with Dinosaurio and accompanied by his long time running mate Adrian Styles, disgust is etched on the GCW Colour Commentator’s face.
Sat upon the physician’s examination table, the footage is black and white and slightly out of focus.
LaDude is practically beside himself, “How dare he! How dare this chump! How dare that midget put his hands on ‘The Dude’!”
Caught up in the hype of his friend and former competitor, Styles can only push it further. “Fuck yeah bro! That lucky swing doesn’t change that he’ll still need a step stool to fuck his sister when he gets back to Mexico!”
“I’m sorry Joey…” The good doctor sounds genuinely surprised. “…did no one tell you? You were cleared right before the company closed, with everything that’s happened before and since the relaunch, I’m sorry you found out by getting punched in the face, but you can apply for your license to compete again any time you want.”
Joey’s eyes widen and his shock dissipates into a nervous shit down, “Fuckin’ quack! I’m outta here! I’m injured you idiot, I’m retired!”
Storming from the doctor’s station, LaDude is followed closely by a surprised Styles.
CUT
Within the office of Chris Parsons, ’The Nightmare’ actually appears hard at work for a change. A quick double knock on the door and soon, David Sinclair’s head appears beyond the door before entering properly.
“S’up Davey.” Parsons’ flat greeting lacks the jubilant tone they had shared leading up to the night of GCW’s relaunch was long gone. Disdain dropped from each letter.
“C’mon man…I keep telling you, I had nothing to do with it…” with a wave of his hand, Parsons silenced David Sinclair in an instant.
“I like you Dave, I really do…it’d be a damn shame if I had to get up from this desk and whoop dat ass…” not even looking up from the papers that sat before him, the threat was one to be taken seriously.
“Ok Parsons, I get it. But no one knew C.W. was going to pick him of all people. Shit, he can’t even be bothered to appear in these.” Looking into the camera, a momentary wink at the fourth wall is quickly passed by. “I do have something else. C.W. wants to know about some of your recent expenditures…”
Shaking his head, Parsons scowled; “That fuck has more money than Jesus and he wants to know about my expenses?” Glaring at Sinclair with his one green eye as a serpent might eye it’s prey, he seemed annoyed that this was even a question. “Ok, fine. If this is about the ten k for strippers classed as entertainment. It was a slow month, we were busy launching this bitch.” Explaining away the low number while sounding legitimately disappointed in himself, Sinclair was confused a moment but quickly catches himself.
“Are you saying you spent ten thousand dollars on strippers? I don’t know what’s worse; that you did it, that it sounds like you think that is a low number, or that I’m not here to ask about that.”
Sighing in disbelief, Sinclair shakes his head and gets to his point, “He wants to know about flights to Los Angeles, and I’m pretty sure I saw Rob Riot leave your office earlier today. Come on Chris…what are you up to?”
Back at his papers, Parsons gathers them up, placing them in a file folder before reaching down and producing a classic leather briefcase. “I told you fucks at the first show, I will eventually come for what’s mine.” Gathering the folder and his laptop, they disappear within the briefcase. “Until then, I’m a busy man. For example, I’m about to go to L.A. to scout some talent, because when I finally come for what’s mine…I want everyone who ever doubted me to know I did it alongside the very best I had access to. I intend to stock this pool full of sharks…then dive in.”
Standing, he straightens his suit and tie, buttons his jacket. Grabbing the briefcase, the GCW President of Corpratude walks past a now nervous Sinclair. “And as for Riot, he’s apparently my Tagteam partner now and the number one contender to the Championship of the company I promote. I’m a busy ass man, any other dumb questions? No? Door’s over there Davey…show yourself out. I got a flight to catch.”
CUT
“Nope, nope nope…fuck no…I Ain’t got time for this shit…” clearly annoyed, ‘The Nightmare’ gets up storming the camera with a sense of urgency; pushing the cameraman out of his office. “Knock next time or be knocked the fuck out…” closing the door in our collective face.
Just before the door closes, a greeting is heard, “United States Penitentiary…”
CUT
David Sinclair is seen backstage at The View. His phone is pressed firmly against the side of his head and he paces up and down the corridor nodding his head.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” Sinclair nods his head to nobody.
“Yeah, I just spoke to him.” He nods.
“Well, that’s what he said.”
“That’s right. Purple. With Stars.”
“Not a clue.”
“No. He doesn’t want…” Sinclair stops and stares at the camera. “…. He doesn’t want his opponent to know.”
“No, Sorry… Camera is here shooting for Existing as Non… That’s right, it’s a CUT.” Sinclair nods.
“Yup. No. No, the opponent doesn’t want Archer to know who they are either.” Sinclair shakes his head with a sigh.
“Can you make it happen?” Sinclair waits… then smiles.
“Good! I can’t wait. Take care Tony.” Smiling, Sinclair hangs up the phone and walks off down the corridor.”
CUT
Shaky camera work bounds us all around as a sea of humanity floods the camera’s viewfinder…
Joey LaDude is decked out in his purple finery as Arian Styles and several backstage crew do their best to separate the luchador and the former wrestler.
“Coño culo perra!” The Spanish taunt is followed by the masked rookie known as Pequeño Dinosaurio launching a right hand straight into the face of LaDude.
As more agents, security and backstage staff get involved, LaDude screams at the masked man, “I’m gonna sue you for every peso your papi has!”
CUT
As Sinclair rounds a corner his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks attempting in vein to turn around unnoticed until…
“Hey there he is.”
“Hey! Wait! Mr. Sinclair, you have a moment?” Sinclair stops and hangs his head as Dan Chase and Barry Andrews rush up toward him. He sighs.
“Sure Dan. I can spare a few.” He turns and forces a smile on his face. “Hi Ben..”
“It’s Barry.”
“Barry… Right…” Sinclair nods. “What can I do for you?”
“Listen, David..” Chase wrings his hands, somewhat uncomfortably. “About that thing we discussed the other week…”
“Sorry Dan, gonna have to clarify..”
“The extra workload… The new referee, remember?” Case responds somewhat uncomfortably, shooting a look at the camera.
“Oh. Right. Sure… Listen guys… We have been auditioning but…” Sinclair shrugs. “Nobody we’ve found so far fits the image we want to project here in GCW. I think we’ve found someone who will be a great fit but eh… Well, she has other obligations for the time being.”
“She?” Barry smiles raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, She.” Sinclair returns the smirk. “Look, just give us a couple more weeks and, I promise, everything will become clear.”
The two men look at one another as if in a silent conference. They nod, and Chase turns back to Sinclair.
“Ok. Sure. A couple of weeks.”
“That’s great” Sinclair smiles. “I’ll see you guys at Onslaught.”
CUT
Standing outside a solid mahogany door, Sinclair looks at the door grimly. “Might as well get this over with…
Sighing, Sinclair straightens his blue collar, adjusts his grey jacket and approaches the door…just as he raises his hand to knock, it opens.
In full tweed jacket, the number one contender to the GCW World Championship emerges, leaving Sinclair slack jawed.
Tipping his non existent hat in the way of Sinclair as the door shuts, Riot passes by with a simple, “David.” Before continuing down the hall to disappear around a corner.
Picking out his phone, a series of taps and it’s ringing. “I know. But I thought you might want to know…they’re talking.” A pause allowed a moment for the other party pose the question of ‘who?’
“Parsons and Riot. I’ll find out what I can.”
CUT
Deep within the heart of ‘The View’, Joey LaDude is fuming mad. Sporting a black eye courtesy of his altercation with Dinosaurio and accompanied by his long time running mate Adrian Styles, disgust is etched on the GCW Colour Commentator’s face.
Sat upon the physician’s examination table, the footage is black and white and slightly out of focus.
LaDude is practically beside himself, “How dare he! How dare this chump! How dare that midget put his hands on ‘The Dude’!”
Caught up in the hype of his friend and former competitor, Styles can only push it further. “Fuck yeah bro! That lucky swing doesn’t change that he’ll still need a step stool to fuck his sister when he gets back to Mexico!”
“I’m sorry Joey…” The good doctor sounds genuinely surprised. “…did no one tell you? You were cleared right before the company closed, with everything that’s happened before and since the relaunch, I’m sorry you found out by getting punched in the face, but you can apply for your license to compete again any time you want.”
Joey’s eyes widen and his shock dissipates into a nervous shit down, “Fuckin’ quack! I’m outta here! I’m injured you idiot, I’m retired!”
Storming from the doctor’s station, LaDude is followed closely by a surprised Styles.
CUT
Within the office of Chris Parsons, ’The Nightmare’ actually appears hard at work for a change. A quick double knock on the door and soon, David Sinclair’s head appears beyond the door before entering properly.
“S’up Davey.” Parsons’ flat greeting lacks the jubilant tone they had shared leading up to the night of GCW’s relaunch was long gone. Disdain dropped from each letter.
“C’mon man…I keep telling you, I had nothing to do with it…” with a wave of his hand, Parsons silenced David Sinclair in an instant.
“I like you Dave, I really do…it’d be a damn shame if I had to get up from this desk and whoop dat ass…” not even looking up from the papers that sat before him, the threat was one to be taken seriously.
“Ok Parsons, I get it. But no one knew C.W. was going to pick him of all people. Shit, he can’t even be bothered to appear in these.” Looking into the camera, a momentary wink at the fourth wall is quickly passed by. “I do have something else. C.W. wants to know about some of your recent expenditures…”
Shaking his head, Parsons scowled; “That fuck has more money than Jesus and he wants to know about my expenses?” Glaring at Sinclair with his one green eye as a serpent might eye it’s prey, he seemed annoyed that this was even a question. “Ok, fine. If this is about the ten k for strippers classed as entertainment. It was a slow month, we were busy launching this bitch.” Explaining away the low number while sounding legitimately disappointed in himself, Sinclair was confused a moment but quickly catches himself.
“Are you saying you spent ten thousand dollars on strippers? I don’t know what’s worse; that you did it, that it sounds like you think that is a low number, or that I’m not here to ask about that.”
Sighing in disbelief, Sinclair shakes his head and gets to his point, “He wants to know about flights to Los Angeles, and I’m pretty sure I saw Rob Riot leave your office earlier today. Come on Chris…what are you up to?”
Back at his papers, Parsons gathers them up, placing them in a file folder before reaching down and producing a classic leather briefcase. “I told you fucks at the first show, I will eventually come for what’s mine.” Gathering the folder and his laptop, they disappear within the briefcase. “Until then, I’m a busy man. For example, I’m about to go to L.A. to scout some talent, because when I finally come for what’s mine…I want everyone who ever doubted me to know I did it alongside the very best I had access to. I intend to stock this pool full of sharks…then dive in.”
Standing, he straightens his suit and tie, buttons his jacket. Grabbing the briefcase, the GCW President of Corpratude walks past a now nervous Sinclair. “And as for Riot, he’s apparently my Tagteam partner now and the number one contender to the Championship of the company I promote. I’m a busy ass man, any other dumb questions? No? Door’s over there Davey…show yourself out. I got a flight to catch.”
CUT