Post by hardcorehammer24 on May 15, 2023 16:12:58 GMT -5
Pitch black, silence.
A simple room, but where?
A hotel, convention center, or arena?
Anywhere you could possibly imagine, but with no light, no sound.
A lone spotlight illuminates a pinpoint in the darkness as a dark figure, dressed in a simple black suit and tie enters into the pinprick of light. Bald and fully clean-shaven, Jakie Wenzel is almost unrecognizable from his former boyish looks and long matted hair. Lines have begun to form on his pale weathered face.
Cameras continue to pan in closely to Jakie, outlining and focusing in on his glass eyes, currently sporting English Union Jack.
Cameras quickly pan out to show Jakie standing behind a pulpit. We are in a church that has been destroyed on the inside. The pews have been ripped out of the foundation and are now piled into the middle of the sanctuary.
W:UK fans out there, I wanted to take a moment to talk with you, now onst. I know what you’re all thinking…why has Jakie Wentzel been so silent all these months? How can the once great Mennonite Mangler even show his face after his poor showing with Adrienne Blaque in the tag team tournament? Well, I’ve taken a lot of time for myself, ain’t now, and been thinking alot about my future since the second fall of Intercourse. I’ve also been hearing a lot of baseless rumors, and I’m ready to put those rumors to rest.
A sly smirk crosses Jakie’s face.
Y’all think I’ve sold out to Blood and the Von Krauss family. You think that I have thrown in the towel, now, and retirement is looming for this aging farmhand. I’ve even heard some people think that my only worth is found in serving as the enforcer of Herr Blood and Von Krauss, unable to measure up to the likes of “Shit Kicker” Wesley Crane or his entourage of whiny fuckboys.
From the wings of the church, the clown twins HeHeHe and HaHaHa slowly process into the room. Both are attired in bright golden robes holding what could only be described as four foot matches. From the back enters Sir Monocle, also attired in gold holding a Olympic torch.
But to better explain myself, let me tell you all a story now. When I was a young upstart in the wrestling world I always compared my life to that of the prodigal son. The man who left a life of heavenly service to become a man living under the heavy burden of debauchery. I didn’t live the perfect life during my Rumspringa years, but I took comfort knowing that in the good book the prodigal son would one day return from the darkness of the world and receive a hero’s welcome. For as the Bible read upon from father to son:
“And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meant that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.”
Luke 15:31-32 KJV
The twins chuckle at the mention of the Holy Bible, garnishing a stern look from Monocle, who still managed to maintain his English poise and dignity…despite being in clown makeup.
Well here is the truth, now, United Kingdom…in the end there is no prodigal's redemption. There is no hero’s welcome. At the end of that sinful road, there is no fatted calf or father to run to you with open arms. My father worked on the farm from dawn to dusk and paid no mind to me or my brothers and sisters. By the time I would’ve even started to work by his side, he had fallen over dead of a heart attack in the middle of the field. The old man had died as he had lived…a slave to his work and religion. How my brother Nathanael and my family kept the farm going, I will never know. Even back then, people considered me a little bit of what you could call “slow”, and was not able to work until much later, when they sent me to the slaughterhouse. I was the oldest in the family, but it was Nathaniel that had to take all of the brunt of the work.
Reminiscent of his past failures Jakie begins to gaze out over the imaginary crowd of parishioners and stops for a second.
How did I repay him? I was out wrestling, a pariah to my friends and family. Even when I tried helping my community, all I did was put their lives in danger. Oh no, onst, I am no hero, I am just as much a villain as Herr Armand at this point.
So why do I support Herr Blood you may ask? Why do I defend Herr Armand, a man who has twice burned my people to the ground? I support them because I have something the majority of this shitshow fed lacks, you bist me? I am loyal to my benefactors. I tried the path of faith, I tried the path of love, but they both led to misery and heartbreak. Now, simply put, I will serve the hand that feeds, the path of money and power, and see where that leads this time around.
I support Herr Blood because he may have given me the last chance I may ever have to win a championship in my career. Even given my past failures Sebastian had enough faith in this down and out farmhand, who nobody else would believe in. More than anything, he respects my loyalty...And I’m not going to let him down.
The three clowns further process towards the large pile of church furniture as their already painted smiles grow even larger.
Looking at the slate of bozos that he’s put before me? I should make easy work of earning the number one contendership for the commonwealth title. “Woke” Wesley Rage? Half of Crane’s little bitch team? You may not know much about me, but let me refresh your memory…you see this eye? I earned this by taking on the Scourge himself, trading blow by blow…and you think your little soyboy ass is going to last even 10 seconds in the ring with a seasoned veteran such as Jakie Wentzel? Hell, when I was your age I was wiping the floor with W:UK champions like Eddie Williams and Billy Fowler…and I will have no problem lodging my farmboots up your ass the way you probably like it.
Takaru Matsui, most likely my most worthy competitor. I am sad to say I will not be staying home this time around. You may have started to make a name for yourself outside of your tag partner’s shadow, Takaru, but giving yourself a fancy new nickname and threatening to kick people’s teeth does not make you tough. Attempting to take on “sell out” Kalmin Watts does not actually make you look impressive now. You will be eating your words, as well as the pavement when I knock you back into the 19th century, you bist me?
Ripper, I’m impressed with how much attention you have been paying. Had you been on the roster when I was assembling the Order, I would have taken you for one of Wentzel’s Warriors. Let’s see how well your research takes you when you are actually in the ring. I may leave you the honor of being the one I make the final pinfall against before I win the match.
If I thought those three punks were the lowest of the low, the rest of y’all denizens better just fall down because you were all clearly selected by Herr Blood to be jobbers to Jakie and the rest of the “legitimate” competitors. Here’s hoping that Vlad at least makes it longer than his last match. I have nothing to say to the whole of you except to pray for your souls that you make it out in one piece.
Which brings me to the one man driving my anger, the one who I await, the man I will bury these seven other men to get to…Frank Windsor. Herr Frank, the one member of the Bastards I haven’t had the honor to go head to head with. Sure I remember the first Commonwealth Rumble was technically our first match, but I was given the drop by Eron Hunter before I could get to him. The one man who may even be a stronger competitor than Rob Riot. I would very much enjoy smashing your drunk, vulgar head in like a ripe melon, Frank. And I will be giving it my all at Dominion not because I give a flying fuck about that belt.
It’s you I want, Frank…just you, mano a mano, at Legacy 15. Any other wrestler on this reject list would be an insult…time to prove just how good you are at defending your measly title.
With the flaming torch in hand, Sir Monocle stoically reaches out to the twins who in turn light their humorously oversized matches.
Alright boys, time for the big surprise, onst.
HeHeHe and HaHaHa gleefully toss the lit matches onto the pile of furniture, setting an inferno wild through the sanctuary.
It’s time to put the biggest rumor to rest UK…I hereby renounce my faith, the faith that set its faithful followers to dust and ruin…the faith that denied me my hero’s welcome, I call you gone. I instead welcome my new family, my true warrior’s return, with Armand-Gun. We are taking the reigns for good at W:UK and the only way anyone, be it Frank Windsor, Wesley Crane, or the scourge himself, will steal away our glory is from our cold, dead hands.
Jakie laughs manically as the flames engulf the church. The camera fades as his face glows orange from the fire emblazed upon Jakie’s glass eye.
A simple room, but where?
A hotel, convention center, or arena?
Anywhere you could possibly imagine, but with no light, no sound.
A lone spotlight illuminates a pinpoint in the darkness as a dark figure, dressed in a simple black suit and tie enters into the pinprick of light. Bald and fully clean-shaven, Jakie Wenzel is almost unrecognizable from his former boyish looks and long matted hair. Lines have begun to form on his pale weathered face.
Cameras continue to pan in closely to Jakie, outlining and focusing in on his glass eyes, currently sporting English Union Jack.
Cameras quickly pan out to show Jakie standing behind a pulpit. We are in a church that has been destroyed on the inside. The pews have been ripped out of the foundation and are now piled into the middle of the sanctuary.
W:UK fans out there, I wanted to take a moment to talk with you, now onst. I know what you’re all thinking…why has Jakie Wentzel been so silent all these months? How can the once great Mennonite Mangler even show his face after his poor showing with Adrienne Blaque in the tag team tournament? Well, I’ve taken a lot of time for myself, ain’t now, and been thinking alot about my future since the second fall of Intercourse. I’ve also been hearing a lot of baseless rumors, and I’m ready to put those rumors to rest.
A sly smirk crosses Jakie’s face.
Y’all think I’ve sold out to Blood and the Von Krauss family. You think that I have thrown in the towel, now, and retirement is looming for this aging farmhand. I’ve even heard some people think that my only worth is found in serving as the enforcer of Herr Blood and Von Krauss, unable to measure up to the likes of “Shit Kicker” Wesley Crane or his entourage of whiny fuckboys.
From the wings of the church, the clown twins HeHeHe and HaHaHa slowly process into the room. Both are attired in bright golden robes holding what could only be described as four foot matches. From the back enters Sir Monocle, also attired in gold holding a Olympic torch.
But to better explain myself, let me tell you all a story now. When I was a young upstart in the wrestling world I always compared my life to that of the prodigal son. The man who left a life of heavenly service to become a man living under the heavy burden of debauchery. I didn’t live the perfect life during my Rumspringa years, but I took comfort knowing that in the good book the prodigal son would one day return from the darkness of the world and receive a hero’s welcome. For as the Bible read upon from father to son:
“And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meant that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.”
Luke 15:31-32 KJV
The twins chuckle at the mention of the Holy Bible, garnishing a stern look from Monocle, who still managed to maintain his English poise and dignity…despite being in clown makeup.
Well here is the truth, now, United Kingdom…in the end there is no prodigal's redemption. There is no hero’s welcome. At the end of that sinful road, there is no fatted calf or father to run to you with open arms. My father worked on the farm from dawn to dusk and paid no mind to me or my brothers and sisters. By the time I would’ve even started to work by his side, he had fallen over dead of a heart attack in the middle of the field. The old man had died as he had lived…a slave to his work and religion. How my brother Nathanael and my family kept the farm going, I will never know. Even back then, people considered me a little bit of what you could call “slow”, and was not able to work until much later, when they sent me to the slaughterhouse. I was the oldest in the family, but it was Nathaniel that had to take all of the brunt of the work.
Reminiscent of his past failures Jakie begins to gaze out over the imaginary crowd of parishioners and stops for a second.
How did I repay him? I was out wrestling, a pariah to my friends and family. Even when I tried helping my community, all I did was put their lives in danger. Oh no, onst, I am no hero, I am just as much a villain as Herr Armand at this point.
So why do I support Herr Blood you may ask? Why do I defend Herr Armand, a man who has twice burned my people to the ground? I support them because I have something the majority of this shitshow fed lacks, you bist me? I am loyal to my benefactors. I tried the path of faith, I tried the path of love, but they both led to misery and heartbreak. Now, simply put, I will serve the hand that feeds, the path of money and power, and see where that leads this time around.
I support Herr Blood because he may have given me the last chance I may ever have to win a championship in my career. Even given my past failures Sebastian had enough faith in this down and out farmhand, who nobody else would believe in. More than anything, he respects my loyalty...And I’m not going to let him down.
The three clowns further process towards the large pile of church furniture as their already painted smiles grow even larger.
Looking at the slate of bozos that he’s put before me? I should make easy work of earning the number one contendership for the commonwealth title. “Woke” Wesley Rage? Half of Crane’s little bitch team? You may not know much about me, but let me refresh your memory…you see this eye? I earned this by taking on the Scourge himself, trading blow by blow…and you think your little soyboy ass is going to last even 10 seconds in the ring with a seasoned veteran such as Jakie Wentzel? Hell, when I was your age I was wiping the floor with W:UK champions like Eddie Williams and Billy Fowler…and I will have no problem lodging my farmboots up your ass the way you probably like it.
Takaru Matsui, most likely my most worthy competitor. I am sad to say I will not be staying home this time around. You may have started to make a name for yourself outside of your tag partner’s shadow, Takaru, but giving yourself a fancy new nickname and threatening to kick people’s teeth does not make you tough. Attempting to take on “sell out” Kalmin Watts does not actually make you look impressive now. You will be eating your words, as well as the pavement when I knock you back into the 19th century, you bist me?
Ripper, I’m impressed with how much attention you have been paying. Had you been on the roster when I was assembling the Order, I would have taken you for one of Wentzel’s Warriors. Let’s see how well your research takes you when you are actually in the ring. I may leave you the honor of being the one I make the final pinfall against before I win the match.
If I thought those three punks were the lowest of the low, the rest of y’all denizens better just fall down because you were all clearly selected by Herr Blood to be jobbers to Jakie and the rest of the “legitimate” competitors. Here’s hoping that Vlad at least makes it longer than his last match. I have nothing to say to the whole of you except to pray for your souls that you make it out in one piece.
Which brings me to the one man driving my anger, the one who I await, the man I will bury these seven other men to get to…Frank Windsor. Herr Frank, the one member of the Bastards I haven’t had the honor to go head to head with. Sure I remember the first Commonwealth Rumble was technically our first match, but I was given the drop by Eron Hunter before I could get to him. The one man who may even be a stronger competitor than Rob Riot. I would very much enjoy smashing your drunk, vulgar head in like a ripe melon, Frank. And I will be giving it my all at Dominion not because I give a flying fuck about that belt.
It’s you I want, Frank…just you, mano a mano, at Legacy 15. Any other wrestler on this reject list would be an insult…time to prove just how good you are at defending your measly title.
With the flaming torch in hand, Sir Monocle stoically reaches out to the twins who in turn light their humorously oversized matches.
Alright boys, time for the big surprise, onst.
HeHeHe and HaHaHa gleefully toss the lit matches onto the pile of furniture, setting an inferno wild through the sanctuary.
It’s time to put the biggest rumor to rest UK…I hereby renounce my faith, the faith that set its faithful followers to dust and ruin…the faith that denied me my hero’s welcome, I call you gone. I instead welcome my new family, my true warrior’s return, with Armand-Gun. We are taking the reigns for good at W:UK and the only way anyone, be it Frank Windsor, Wesley Crane, or the scourge himself, will steal away our glory is from our cold, dead hands.
Jakie laughs manically as the flames engulf the church. The camera fades as his face glows orange from the fire emblazed upon Jakie’s glass eye.