"Nightmares of the Rumble (Pt.6)"
Apr 14, 2021 14:16:50 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, SWAT Team, and 4 more like this
Post by Jesse Jamester on Apr 14, 2021 14:16:50 GMT -5
“Anger is a tool. It can help you or it can bury you. The choice is yours.”
The scene opens to reveal the Canadian Nightmare Jesse Jamester standing in the back area of the Mississauga, ON arena, following the Northern Pro Wrestling show. The trainer’s room appears before us, and there, Jesse stands in front of a mirror, in the empty room. Talking to himself in the mirror, as only he does.
This is what you wanted… let them have a piece of your mind.
“What? I didn’t want this! I dealt with the fall out the best way I could!”
You relished it, don’t lie to yourself.
“I…. I did.”
Make them see what you have really been feeling. Tell them the dirty secrets.
“Once I do, there is no going back.”
Forward is the only way. Our future is now.
“Fine.”
Walking away from the mirror, Jesse Jamester steps into the the hallway and walks down it to the promo area setup for interviews and reactions. NPW was famous for their setup, a normal room closed off just for interviews, plexi-glass, the whole nine to guarantee safety for the talent and staff.
However, due to how late it was, nearly every interviewer was gone and staff member had left. The camera crew and sound guy sat sipping coffee, eyes with bags under them, playing a game of war with a deck of cards. Startled by Jesse’s appearance as he walked in, they both bustled to their positions, knowing from his demeanor he wasn't going to wait a second to get this one off his chest.
Jesse: “Are you rolling?”
Pointing to the camera man, who begins a five count with his fingers, before the red light clicks on.
Jesse Jamester: Tonight, the Syndicate died. The Thunder Potato Power bomb machine known as Scott Steel has taken up new management, Walter Whetzl. He’s no longer Scott Steel, now he is the Colossus.
Dropping his hands to the podium sides, Jesse grips the edges ever so slightly, poised to explain.
Jesse Jamester: Yes, we are still the Imperial Crown Tag Team Champions. However we are no longer the same team we were before Fuel for the Fire in FIRESIDE. I have no problem with the Colossus, Scott and I have had our differences in approaching this fall out from Eric Dane. Scott, he’s loyal, he’s a man who follows the men who brought him here… I on the other hand, call a spade a spade.
Cocking his head as he looks at the camera, the now black lizard mask sends the creeps up the arms of both the staff members in the room. Jesse’s hands clench the podium he stands in front of, like he was holding on for dear life.
Jesse Jamester: Eric Dane, you angry lil’ son of a bitch you... You let me down. I told you from day one I had your back. Yes it was business, and no it wasn’t suppose to be personal. But in the end, this is how you did us? Men you called your brothers, who you went to war beside? You up and left the Syndicate for the KGB over in SWAT. Some third rate toilet bowl that tries to be cute. (Claps) I knew when I met you Dane, I knew then you were a snake. I also knew you were on your way out. I felt like doing the honors of helping the old man with that last run you wanted oh so badly.
He stops clapping, bringing his hands down to his side. Jesse pulls the mask off and his frizzled long dirty brown hair fell to the sides of his face. The emotion in his cheeks, the eyes peering a hole through the camera.
Jesse Jamester: The XHF has a lot of egos, a lot of false prophets, and some of them are under the Northern Pro banner. Eric, you were one of them. You were the apex of ego and anger rolled up in a tight blunt, waiting for a lighter to set you off. Yet above all else, you were as plain as day, an asshole!
The sound guy spits coffee! Looking around to see if Dane was somewhere around ready to pounce on Jesse Jamester at any moment, but he was not.
Jesse Jamester: Aye, I call it like I see it Eric. Consumed with anger to the point you couldn’t get out of your own way. One man comes in here and throws you off your game, a man like Lord Dominicus. And you take your bag and go home? Pffft… and I thought you were a leader. Nothing more than a washed up has-been, on his last leg. All up in his feels because nobody wanted to hear Eric rant for another minute about being the ‘Only Starr’. Your only star power was using people, a lesson I picked up on right away. Eric, you sat on the shoulders of men better than you, and acted like that somehow made you important, a king. But even Kings fall, their kingdoms crumble. In the end, they are but a footnote in history! To give you that kind of honor would mean I respect you, so let's not get carried away in reading between the lines here.
Pushing the hair out of his face.
Jesse Jamester: So is it really surprising that now that the attention isn’t on you, that you would wander somewhere else to get that attention you crave? You tucked your tail and wandered off down the road to play manager. No one is surprised Eric, not I, not Northern Pro, not the XHF - because we knew it wasn’t a matter of who would force you to, but a matter of time as to when. Thank baby Jesus it came when it did, showing those true colors you were so arrogant to claim every time you opened your grubby little mouth.
Cracking his knuckles before placing a hand on the podium, pointing a finger at the camera.
Jesse Jamester: Your best days are behind you Eric. Without men like myself, you would have never come close to the NPW Double Crown Championship. Yeah, you heard me right! Lethal Lottery I saved your ass from elimination and took the fall myself. In SWAT I beat the hell out of Joseph Mack who had painted a target on your back! Time and time again, I allowed you to play puppet master, thinking you had all the power. Up and down the road, I did the dirty work that you couldn’t, so you could wear that gold over your shoulder and call yourself a man, a champion, OUR champion.
Cracking his neck, as the veins grow larger leading up to his jaw. Jesse pauses, then motions with his hands wide open, as though laying out cards on the podium.
Jesse Jamester: Alas, all the cards on the table for the world to see our dirty laundry. A peak behind the scenes of the Syndicate's fall from grace. I’m leaving no stone unturned. Eric, you betrayed your brother! That’s a cardinal sin that never gets forgiven! Abel and Cain had their day, but we are not them, no, I’m not going to kill you like Cain did Abel and relinquish you from this life of anger you’ve built around yourself Eric. In the saga of Jesse and Eric, this will be their final note for the world to remember. On Eric Dane’s best day, he couldn’t out wrestle his way from a dry paper bag, let alone lace my boots.
Slapping his hands together in a wiping motion, he brushes his shoulder off and looks up at the camera.
Jesse Jamester: This is your one warning Eric, and I’ll say it slow cause I know your hearing is poor. If I even get a hint of you thinking of coming back to Northern Pro Wrestling, or that you are coming into Canada - you better call me up and ask for a permission slip or so help me God, I’ll retire you my damned self! Come the XHF Rumble, there will be a Jesterplex with your name on it, guaran-fuckin-teed.
A cutting throat motion, and Jesse Jamester seethes as he grabs the lizard mask from the podium and carries it out of the room. Lines had been blurred, the personal and professional relationship he had with Eric Dane was one that hit home, and resonated in his voice throughout the shoot interview. The cameraman and the sound guy looked at one another with their mouths open, like they’d just witnessed a bomb go off.
In the hallway, walking all alone towards the weight room, Jesse looks down at the mask, staring at it, as if he was disgusted.
You feel that?
“What?”
That’s the man you really are.
“So fuckin what.”
Embrace it.
“I have.”
Walking around a corner, he disappears from view of the following camera.
The scene opens to reveal the Canadian Nightmare Jesse Jamester standing in the back area of the Mississauga, ON arena, following the Northern Pro Wrestling show. The trainer’s room appears before us, and there, Jesse stands in front of a mirror, in the empty room. Talking to himself in the mirror, as only he does.
This is what you wanted… let them have a piece of your mind.
“What? I didn’t want this! I dealt with the fall out the best way I could!”
You relished it, don’t lie to yourself.
“I…. I did.”
Make them see what you have really been feeling. Tell them the dirty secrets.
“Once I do, there is no going back.”
Forward is the only way. Our future is now.
“Fine.”
Walking away from the mirror, Jesse Jamester steps into the the hallway and walks down it to the promo area setup for interviews and reactions. NPW was famous for their setup, a normal room closed off just for interviews, plexi-glass, the whole nine to guarantee safety for the talent and staff.
However, due to how late it was, nearly every interviewer was gone and staff member had left. The camera crew and sound guy sat sipping coffee, eyes with bags under them, playing a game of war with a deck of cards. Startled by Jesse’s appearance as he walked in, they both bustled to their positions, knowing from his demeanor he wasn't going to wait a second to get this one off his chest.
Jesse: “Are you rolling?”
Pointing to the camera man, who begins a five count with his fingers, before the red light clicks on.
Jesse Jamester: Tonight, the Syndicate died. The Thunder Potato Power bomb machine known as Scott Steel has taken up new management, Walter Whetzl. He’s no longer Scott Steel, now he is the Colossus.
Dropping his hands to the podium sides, Jesse grips the edges ever so slightly, poised to explain.
Jesse Jamester: Yes, we are still the Imperial Crown Tag Team Champions. However we are no longer the same team we were before Fuel for the Fire in FIRESIDE. I have no problem with the Colossus, Scott and I have had our differences in approaching this fall out from Eric Dane. Scott, he’s loyal, he’s a man who follows the men who brought him here… I on the other hand, call a spade a spade.
Cocking his head as he looks at the camera, the now black lizard mask sends the creeps up the arms of both the staff members in the room. Jesse’s hands clench the podium he stands in front of, like he was holding on for dear life.
Jesse Jamester: Eric Dane, you angry lil’ son of a bitch you... You let me down. I told you from day one I had your back. Yes it was business, and no it wasn’t suppose to be personal. But in the end, this is how you did us? Men you called your brothers, who you went to war beside? You up and left the Syndicate for the KGB over in SWAT. Some third rate toilet bowl that tries to be cute. (Claps) I knew when I met you Dane, I knew then you were a snake. I also knew you were on your way out. I felt like doing the honors of helping the old man with that last run you wanted oh so badly.
He stops clapping, bringing his hands down to his side. Jesse pulls the mask off and his frizzled long dirty brown hair fell to the sides of his face. The emotion in his cheeks, the eyes peering a hole through the camera.
Jesse Jamester: The XHF has a lot of egos, a lot of false prophets, and some of them are under the Northern Pro banner. Eric, you were one of them. You were the apex of ego and anger rolled up in a tight blunt, waiting for a lighter to set you off. Yet above all else, you were as plain as day, an asshole!
The sound guy spits coffee! Looking around to see if Dane was somewhere around ready to pounce on Jesse Jamester at any moment, but he was not.
Jesse Jamester: Aye, I call it like I see it Eric. Consumed with anger to the point you couldn’t get out of your own way. One man comes in here and throws you off your game, a man like Lord Dominicus. And you take your bag and go home? Pffft… and I thought you were a leader. Nothing more than a washed up has-been, on his last leg. All up in his feels because nobody wanted to hear Eric rant for another minute about being the ‘Only Starr’. Your only star power was using people, a lesson I picked up on right away. Eric, you sat on the shoulders of men better than you, and acted like that somehow made you important, a king. But even Kings fall, their kingdoms crumble. In the end, they are but a footnote in history! To give you that kind of honor would mean I respect you, so let's not get carried away in reading between the lines here.
Pushing the hair out of his face.
Jesse Jamester: So is it really surprising that now that the attention isn’t on you, that you would wander somewhere else to get that attention you crave? You tucked your tail and wandered off down the road to play manager. No one is surprised Eric, not I, not Northern Pro, not the XHF - because we knew it wasn’t a matter of who would force you to, but a matter of time as to when. Thank baby Jesus it came when it did, showing those true colors you were so arrogant to claim every time you opened your grubby little mouth.
Cracking his knuckles before placing a hand on the podium, pointing a finger at the camera.
Jesse Jamester: Your best days are behind you Eric. Without men like myself, you would have never come close to the NPW Double Crown Championship. Yeah, you heard me right! Lethal Lottery I saved your ass from elimination and took the fall myself. In SWAT I beat the hell out of Joseph Mack who had painted a target on your back! Time and time again, I allowed you to play puppet master, thinking you had all the power. Up and down the road, I did the dirty work that you couldn’t, so you could wear that gold over your shoulder and call yourself a man, a champion, OUR champion.
Cracking his neck, as the veins grow larger leading up to his jaw. Jesse pauses, then motions with his hands wide open, as though laying out cards on the podium.
Jesse Jamester: Alas, all the cards on the table for the world to see our dirty laundry. A peak behind the scenes of the Syndicate's fall from grace. I’m leaving no stone unturned. Eric, you betrayed your brother! That’s a cardinal sin that never gets forgiven! Abel and Cain had their day, but we are not them, no, I’m not going to kill you like Cain did Abel and relinquish you from this life of anger you’ve built around yourself Eric. In the saga of Jesse and Eric, this will be their final note for the world to remember. On Eric Dane’s best day, he couldn’t out wrestle his way from a dry paper bag, let alone lace my boots.
Slapping his hands together in a wiping motion, he brushes his shoulder off and looks up at the camera.
Jesse Jamester: This is your one warning Eric, and I’ll say it slow cause I know your hearing is poor. If I even get a hint of you thinking of coming back to Northern Pro Wrestling, or that you are coming into Canada - you better call me up and ask for a permission slip or so help me God, I’ll retire you my damned self! Come the XHF Rumble, there will be a Jesterplex with your name on it, guaran-fuckin-teed.
A cutting throat motion, and Jesse Jamester seethes as he grabs the lizard mask from the podium and carries it out of the room. Lines had been blurred, the personal and professional relationship he had with Eric Dane was one that hit home, and resonated in his voice throughout the shoot interview. The cameraman and the sound guy looked at one another with their mouths open, like they’d just witnessed a bomb go off.
In the hallway, walking all alone towards the weight room, Jesse looks down at the mask, staring at it, as if he was disgusted.
You feel that?
“What?”
That’s the man you really are.
“So fuckin what.”
Embrace it.
“I have.”
Walking around a corner, he disappears from view of the following camera.
