The Real Triple Threat

[fowler]

Every city, well, most cities I assume have areas of outstanding beauty and areas with a more jaded or shady reputation. London of course fits this mould perfectly, and it is in one of those shadier areas that we find ourselves. The camera shows a very rough looking warehouse, made out rusty and paint flaking steel cladding. It sits on a row of such units in a small estate presumably in south or east London.
The familiar sound of bodies hitting canvas and wooden boards can be heard echoing within and as the camera man opens the door and slides inside, we see The Bastards inside the ring. All in training gear with Fowler stands centre of the ring. Riot and Windsor take turns charging at him, but the big man counters with hip tosses, spine busters and other associated slams.

Riot notices the camera and gives Fowler a nod before turning to Frank to continue the session with him, whilst the six-foot eight-inch frame of Fowler turns to the camera, looking down at it from the ring, his arms resting on the top rope.



“Welcome, this is the Bastard’s official training facility.”



Rob gives a quick glance to Fowler, who spots this from the corner of his eye.



“Well, one of them I guess. You see Rob likes a more well-appointed environment with more aesthetic than function. And Frank… well he does most of his “Training” down in Soho.
But as you see we are hard at here because this is a big week for boys and girls! At the inaugural event Rob and Frank showed the world once again that there is no tag team, no stable or faction in the world who can beat any combination of the three of us. Phase one is marked off the books, The Bastards hold the Tag Team Titles!
And now we head towards Leeds and my opportunity, a once in a life time chance to become the very first UK:W Worlds Heavyweight Champion. But there are a few hurdles to kick over along the way.

So let’s address the Double E’s first.”



Franks mouth hangs open and his attention turns to searching the room for what he hopes to be a very buxom young lady.



“Get your head out the gutter Frank. I mean with two Edwards, Mr Havok and Mr D.
Let’s talk Havok first, shall we? You’re right Eddie, we have a small scarp of history. We’ve moved in the same circles and the same federations but never had a chance to really test our mettle against each other. Well, this is your chance buddy, time to step-up and see if on your very best day you can beat me…on my VERY BEST DAY!

Because that is what you are going to get in Leeds Havok! You are going to get the very best possible version of Billy Fowler there is. The mindset of a champion, who not only thinks that he can beat anyone on this roster but more importantly thinks that he can beat the two gentlemen behind me on their very best day. You know because you’ve seen what Riot and Windsor are able to do in this ring. You’ve seen the belts they have won and the people they have defeated to win and retain them. I’m walking into the arena with that same mentality, the mindset of going to the absolute limits of what I can do to beat you both.

I respect you Havok, but I just don’t think you have what it takes to stop me getting what I so deeply want, so wholeheartedly deserve! The world title.

Eddie D. As for you I would go a step further.
I know that you don’t have what it takes.
I know this because the words that came out of your mouth limited me to the muscle of a faction. And that tells me two things. Number one you don’t understand who we are, and number two, you don’t have a clue who I am.

You see The Bastards aren’t just a faction mate. We are a collective of wrestling deities who operate on a level of ability and talent beyond that of mere mortals like yourself. We were brought together by fate, due to our distinct fondness for winning titles and leaving people who dare question our ability or dare to disrespect us as broken, bloody ensembles of limbs on the mat.
So no Eddie… I’m not just the muscle for the main event. I AM THE MAIN EVENT! WE ARE THE MAIN EVENT! It doesn’t matter which belt, which Bastard, we are all the best at what we do and we are all under that spotlight.

You’ve both wandered into the middle of a situation that you are unprepared for. But one man seemed to know what was coming. One man seemed to know that action was required. Donzig.”



At the utterance of that name, Windsor and Riot pause their sparring and come to flank Fowler, all three now looking into the camera.



“You understand Donzig. You get the picture. You know that the men you are looking at right now spell out the end of days for you and whatever aspirations you have for yourself in this business. You knew that you needed to make a statement against the main event in order to maintain some sort of grasp upon that position within this company.
Well congratulations you got me. I only wish that you were in this match so that I could snap that twiggy little neck of yours. But alas, the pleasure of that goes to my friend here. Mr Frank Windsor, Sultan of Schlong Style and self-professed maniac.
I hope you like queuing Donzig, because you just entered line. You’re at one end, Windsor, Riot and Fowler are at the other end.

So gentlemen, get ready to be tested to your limits in Leeds. And prepare to be humbled, as you enter a new era. The Bastard Era.”