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Supercard Archives / NXT vs POWER PLAY
« on: January 09, 2015, 09:06:19 PM »
:FADE IN:
AUGUST 18 2014
INT. DINER – NIGHT
The camera fades in to a small diner in the middle of the Nevada desert. The noise was almost too much to take. The clattering of dishes and the scrape of the knives and forks scratching back and forth on the used and almost abused white porcelain. She stared at her scrambled eggs covered in ketchup, wondering how she could have been so stupid as to drive to the Nevada desert with $100,000 of his money in a bright blue duffel bag. She wondered if he would take her with him this time, or if it would be like the last however many times where he paid for breakfast and rode away alone. She wondered if he would even show. She stared up the big oak kitchen door that stood five feet in front of her. The same oak door she had been staring at for the past two hours. As the bus boy walked towards it carrying a stack of plates, the door swung open.
CRASH!
The old waitress with a scar of her left cheek collided with the bus boy and the dishes went flying. She chuckled to herself. April was twenty-three years young with bright blue eyes and a smile that could make Helen of Troy jealous. Her bright blonde hair stood out as if it were the only color in a black and white picture. Her pasty white skin screamed for a sun tan. Maybe even a tanning booth. She had spent the better part of the last year waiting for the man she loved to come back. She would tell you she just worked for him if you asked her, but even a stranger would know she was lying. She was his personal assistant. He was a user. Not a drug abuser but a people abuser. People mostly meaning April. He would send her on all sorts of odd missions. Most recently a call in the middle of the night, asking her to drive to the Juarez bus depot and go to locker 353. Grab the blue duffel bag and bring to Rick’s Truck Stop Diner on I215 in the Nevada desert. “Don’t look inside.” he said. But this time April wasn’t going to listen. She was going to look inside and she was going to confront him. Or maybe not. The small scar above her right eye was not from the car accident she told everyone about. She heard a car pull up in the parking lot and she heard the door to the diner swing open. She recognized the clap of his Italian leather shoes hitting the tile floor as he walked towards. As he got closer she could smell his scent and she could all of the anger that she had been harboring towards him disappear. She cracked a smile. He walked around her and met her eyes with his. He’s taller than most. His broad shoulders blocked April’s view of the kitchen door she had become so familiar with. He wore a white suit with a red shirt with an open collar that fit snugly underneath his suit jacket. His short cropped black hair seems to flow through the air and his designer sunglasses shielded his eyes from the desert sun. APRIL was staring at her lover and her abuser. She was staring at James Nathaniel Ringo. He had aged since the last time they were in the same room. The bit of boyish charm that use to light up his eyes was now gone. The man sitting before her was not the same man she once knew. He took off his sunglasses as he sat down across from her. As he looked her over, he cracked a smile.
RINGO: Hey baby.
APRIL: Where have you been?
RINGO: I’m sorry I got held up in Miami.
APRIL: Miami?
RINGO: I was, but something came up. Did you bring it?
APRIL: You know I did.
RINGO: Well give ‘er here…
She paused for second, if only for a moment. He knew.
RINGO: I told you not to open it April!
APRIL: I know Jimmy but-
RINGO: Listen woman, I send you that money once a month for a reason and it is not so I could sit here and explain to you what that bag is for. Now give it here or so help me I will slap you in front of these redneck losers.
April froze. Out of all the times he had been drunk and an asshole, he never spoke like that before. Something changed him. She stammered, but slowly slid the small duffel bag across the table. As he opens it to inspect its insides, April squeezes a small tear drop and a slight whimper. RINGO looked up.
RINGO: Oh baby I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just-
APRIL: I know you don’t mean it baby but you scared me. Why are you acting like this?
He stood up quickly and walked around to the other side of the small booth and plopped down next to her. Just as he sat down the waitress came over.
Waitress: Can I get-
RINGO: Coffee, Black.
She rolled her eyes as she walked away. He turned to April and grabbed her fork. He slid her plate in front of himself and started to eat her breakfast.
APRIL: Just this once baby, what’s the money for?
He thought for a long minute as if he did not trust her with the answer.
RINGO: I’m going back. I’ve done what I had to do with my father. I’m going back.
A smile lit across April's face.
APRIL: You’re coming back to Vegas?
The waitress came over and poured the coffee.
RINGO: Yes. It’s time. I was in Miami to finish something. To finish something so I COULD go back.
An even bigger smile lit across APRIL's face.
APRIL: You’re really coming back?
RINGO: Yes, that’s what I said isn’t it?
He took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down.
APRIL: When are we going?
RINGO: As soon as I finish my coffee. I have someone to see.
APRIL: Do they know you’re coming already?
RINGO: Not yet baby doll. But they will. They’ll know when James Nathaniel Ringo rolls back into town. And they’re gonna wish he never did.
:FADE OUT:
The Personal Diary of James Nathaniel Ringo
January 7th, 2015
It is a new year. The plan is in place and things are in motion. Three heroes of years past are to be taken away, dragging and screaming toward their demise. Power…is absolute. I’ve tried to assemble the best team I could. Former champions who have been wronged in the same way. Forgotten…disposed of. These two men will meet a similar fate as Steve Ramone and his group of slack-jawed yokels…but in due time.
John Dough, a former foe, who I have bested before. For some reason it is you who wants to hold up a banner of a group long been forgotten. A mantle of what success was once like here in Sin City Wrestler. For some unknown reason it is you that has firmly placed yourself in our cross hairs. We did not seek you out…you were brought to us. I know this must be hard for you to hear and probably even more difficult to comprehend but I will try to dumb things down for you. There are people in your group, like Steve Ramone, and your once great leader Spike Staggs who have moved on from their chance to shine in the spotlight and bask in the glory. They are, in every essence of the term, has-beens. They have already reached their pinnacle and have long since been removed from any prominence or relevance. But you, my masked friend, are the anomaly of your group. You are a never was. Useless and undeserving, you hold up the banner of a once great man. He should be ashamed of what NXT has become.
NXT has become a breeding ground for talentless hacks who can’t get out of their own way. Take Connor Murphy for example. He is the definition of replaceable. A nameless face lost in the crowd, hoping that somewhere somehow something near greatness rubs off on him. It’s laughable that this is what now represents Spike Staggs’ legacy. A winless wonder, destined to be a copycat for his whole life. It makes me chuckle to myself when I see how easy it truly is to move right through NXT.
The most entertaining part of all of this is Steve Ramone; a champion of the people and a man who could’ve been something. Instead he chose to align himself with two men who will forever drag him down to the bottom of the Sin City Wrestling ladder. He could’ve been something, there was potential there. Sadly, all is now lost. Unfortunately, he’s just another member in a band of losers.
AUGUST 18 2014
INT. DINER – NIGHT
The camera fades in to a small diner in the middle of the Nevada desert. The noise was almost too much to take. The clattering of dishes and the scrape of the knives and forks scratching back and forth on the used and almost abused white porcelain. She stared at her scrambled eggs covered in ketchup, wondering how she could have been so stupid as to drive to the Nevada desert with $100,000 of his money in a bright blue duffel bag. She wondered if he would take her with him this time, or if it would be like the last however many times where he paid for breakfast and rode away alone. She wondered if he would even show. She stared up the big oak kitchen door that stood five feet in front of her. The same oak door she had been staring at for the past two hours. As the bus boy walked towards it carrying a stack of plates, the door swung open.
CRASH!
The old waitress with a scar of her left cheek collided with the bus boy and the dishes went flying. She chuckled to herself. April was twenty-three years young with bright blue eyes and a smile that could make Helen of Troy jealous. Her bright blonde hair stood out as if it were the only color in a black and white picture. Her pasty white skin screamed for a sun tan. Maybe even a tanning booth. She had spent the better part of the last year waiting for the man she loved to come back. She would tell you she just worked for him if you asked her, but even a stranger would know she was lying. She was his personal assistant. He was a user. Not a drug abuser but a people abuser. People mostly meaning April. He would send her on all sorts of odd missions. Most recently a call in the middle of the night, asking her to drive to the Juarez bus depot and go to locker 353. Grab the blue duffel bag and bring to Rick’s Truck Stop Diner on I215 in the Nevada desert. “Don’t look inside.” he said. But this time April wasn’t going to listen. She was going to look inside and she was going to confront him. Or maybe not. The small scar above her right eye was not from the car accident she told everyone about. She heard a car pull up in the parking lot and she heard the door to the diner swing open. She recognized the clap of his Italian leather shoes hitting the tile floor as he walked towards. As he got closer she could smell his scent and she could all of the anger that she had been harboring towards him disappear. She cracked a smile. He walked around her and met her eyes with his. He’s taller than most. His broad shoulders blocked April’s view of the kitchen door she had become so familiar with. He wore a white suit with a red shirt with an open collar that fit snugly underneath his suit jacket. His short cropped black hair seems to flow through the air and his designer sunglasses shielded his eyes from the desert sun. APRIL was staring at her lover and her abuser. She was staring at James Nathaniel Ringo. He had aged since the last time they were in the same room. The bit of boyish charm that use to light up his eyes was now gone. The man sitting before her was not the same man she once knew. He took off his sunglasses as he sat down across from her. As he looked her over, he cracked a smile.
RINGO: Hey baby.
APRIL: Where have you been?
RINGO: I’m sorry I got held up in Miami.
APRIL: Miami?
RINGO: I was, but something came up. Did you bring it?
APRIL: You know I did.
RINGO: Well give ‘er here…
She paused for second, if only for a moment. He knew.
RINGO: I told you not to open it April!
APRIL: I know Jimmy but-
RINGO: Listen woman, I send you that money once a month for a reason and it is not so I could sit here and explain to you what that bag is for. Now give it here or so help me I will slap you in front of these redneck losers.
April froze. Out of all the times he had been drunk and an asshole, he never spoke like that before. Something changed him. She stammered, but slowly slid the small duffel bag across the table. As he opens it to inspect its insides, April squeezes a small tear drop and a slight whimper. RINGO looked up.
RINGO: Oh baby I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just-
APRIL: I know you don’t mean it baby but you scared me. Why are you acting like this?
He stood up quickly and walked around to the other side of the small booth and plopped down next to her. Just as he sat down the waitress came over.
Waitress: Can I get-
RINGO: Coffee, Black.
She rolled her eyes as she walked away. He turned to April and grabbed her fork. He slid her plate in front of himself and started to eat her breakfast.
APRIL: Just this once baby, what’s the money for?
He thought for a long minute as if he did not trust her with the answer.
RINGO: I’m going back. I’ve done what I had to do with my father. I’m going back.
A smile lit across April's face.
APRIL: You’re coming back to Vegas?
The waitress came over and poured the coffee.
RINGO: Yes. It’s time. I was in Miami to finish something. To finish something so I COULD go back.
An even bigger smile lit across APRIL's face.
APRIL: You’re really coming back?
RINGO: Yes, that’s what I said isn’t it?
He took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down.
APRIL: When are we going?
RINGO: As soon as I finish my coffee. I have someone to see.
APRIL: Do they know you’re coming already?
RINGO: Not yet baby doll. But they will. They’ll know when James Nathaniel Ringo rolls back into town. And they’re gonna wish he never did.
:FADE OUT:
January 7th, 2015
It is a new year. The plan is in place and things are in motion. Three heroes of years past are to be taken away, dragging and screaming toward their demise. Power…is absolute. I’ve tried to assemble the best team I could. Former champions who have been wronged in the same way. Forgotten…disposed of. These two men will meet a similar fate as Steve Ramone and his group of slack-jawed yokels…but in due time.
John Dough, a former foe, who I have bested before. For some reason it is you who wants to hold up a banner of a group long been forgotten. A mantle of what success was once like here in Sin City Wrestler. For some unknown reason it is you that has firmly placed yourself in our cross hairs. We did not seek you out…you were brought to us. I know this must be hard for you to hear and probably even more difficult to comprehend but I will try to dumb things down for you. There are people in your group, like Steve Ramone, and your once great leader Spike Staggs who have moved on from their chance to shine in the spotlight and bask in the glory. They are, in every essence of the term, has-beens. They have already reached their pinnacle and have long since been removed from any prominence or relevance. But you, my masked friend, are the anomaly of your group. You are a never was. Useless and undeserving, you hold up the banner of a once great man. He should be ashamed of what NXT has become.
NXT has become a breeding ground for talentless hacks who can’t get out of their own way. Take Connor Murphy for example. He is the definition of replaceable. A nameless face lost in the crowd, hoping that somewhere somehow something near greatness rubs off on him. It’s laughable that this is what now represents Spike Staggs’ legacy. A winless wonder, destined to be a copycat for his whole life. It makes me chuckle to myself when I see how easy it truly is to move right through NXT.
The most entertaining part of all of this is Steve Ramone; a champion of the people and a man who could’ve been something. Instead he chose to align himself with two men who will forever drag him down to the bottom of the Sin City Wrestling ladder. He could’ve been something, there was potential there. Sadly, all is now lost. Unfortunately, he’s just another member in a band of losers.