Catching Up With GDL
#NP "Wrecked" by Killbot
Locale; All over the Friggin’ USA

TMZ has reported that former Fuhgeddaboudit reality TV star, Giani Di Luca, has been hard at work to get back into “ring shape” following an announcement that he will be making a return to the six sided Sin City Wrestling ring for their show in Scottsdale, Arizona.  We have caught him working out at various training sites across Nevada, California, Arizona, and even this clip caught by fans from his hometown of Seaside Heights, New Jersey.

We pan inside of a local gym where Giani Di Luca is seen boxing with his former trainer “T-Dogg” Tommy Russo.  The fan’s shaky camera slowly circles around the ring to see Giani firing rapid punches, with all of his might, in an attempt to connect with T-Dogg.  However, each and every hit is deflected.  Giani dances around the ring, waiting for the right opportunity to catch his sensational sensei off guard.  After a few fakeouts, he trots up to T-Dogg and busts him right in his friggin’ face.

Fan:  Holy shit, man!  That guy just got knocked the f**k out!

Giani holds his fists up in celebration, flexing his body, which has clearly never been out of ring shape.  As sweat pours off of his body, he walks over toward the ropes, and looks right down at the fan.

Giani:  Fuhgeddaboudit!

Fan:  Fuhgeddaboudit!  This dude is legit A.F.  I’m sending this into TMZ.

Giani flicks his mouth guard out onto the ground as he does his signature laugh.  He extends his gloved fist toward the fan who comes at him with a fist bump.  Giani then gallops around the ring, gloating over his victory.

Giani Di Luca has been taking his preparations very seriously, having released statements to the public such as:

”I can’t see myself not becoming the next SCW World Heavyweight Champion.  The work that I’ve put into this match alone, against a man who hadn’t done much of anything in the world of wrestling besides try to knock up some country bumpkin with probably the biggest funbags this guy’s ever seen… just imagine what I will do to get at “The White Wolf” himself.  Just sayin’...”

Giani has been out of the spotlight for many years now, having “taken a break” from wrestling.  Most had wondered what happened to the “Italian Stallion” since his departure from SCW after winning the World Tag Team Championships with his then partners, Mickey Carroll and Dax Beckett, collectively known as the Bad Boys (of wrestling).  He seemed to practically disappear from the spotlight, and that is something we’ve never seen from GDL, who always commanded the attention of anyone within a ten mile radius of a television or computer.

TMZ dug a little deeper to find that Giani had been staying in the background, but his presence was still felt in the form of manager and trainer for his Bad Boys counterparts.  When the Bad Boys traveled over to Honor Wrestling in  August of 2017, Giani opted not to sign a contract to wrestle, and he worked closely alongside Erik Staggs to cultivate one of the most hard hitting and controversial stables in wrestling today.

The camera pans to the inside of a VIP Lounge in a Las Vegas Nightclub.  Giani is seen sitting in a white suit jacket with a red tie trickling down his otherwise bare chest.  He has a lady on each arm as he looks around from side to side to see “Shorty” Devin Tyler making out with a hot blonde bombshell in a tight silver dress that looks painted on.  He then looks over to see Tim Staggs and Dax Beckett chugging beers at a very steady rate, being competitive with one another in doing so.

Giani:  Life’s good, bro.  I get to treat these assholes to the best nights of their lives, and in turn, they make me mad bank.  I ain’t even gotta get my hands dirty no more.

Shorty stops and turns back to Giani, his eyebrows furled as he nods his head.

Shorty:  I know that’s right, ya p*ssy! We do the hard work while you sit back and reap the reward.

Giani:  Nah, of anyone in here, I’d say Stella is doing the hardest work.  Making out with gremlin the size of a teddy bear can’t be easy.  Ho skills on fleek.

Bad Boys:  OHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Giani once again does his signature laugh as we take in the surroundings of beautiful men and women dancing and having a good time in the lounge, all for the amusement of the Bad Boys.

If Giani doesn’t need the money, or the spotlight, then why return now?  What is truly in it for Giani?  Is a championship belt that important to “The Reflection of Perfection”?  What is it about the allure of the six sided ring that is drawing Giani back?  Could it be more than what meets the eye?

Or could it just be that the competitive nature of GDL is shining through once again?  We’d like to say that Giani has been absent from the ring since his departure from SCW, but that isn’t entirely true.  SCW fans might be aware that Giani took part in an open invitational battle royal earlier this year, which featured names big names like Eyesnsane, Dax Beckett, Mickey Carroll, Tim Staggs, Eric Weaver, Earl Lockyer, John Blade, and SCW’s very own Caleb Storms.

Giani wasn’t originally scheduled to be a part of this match, although it was meant to be a punishment to the Bad Boys for having caused so much chaos in Honor Wrestling, and Commissioner Brooke Saxon decided that punishment to the stable was in order, on the same night that some sort of Mean Girls reincarnation group known as A.G.I.F.T. was being punished for similar tactics.  Giani surprised the world when he, not only entered the frey, but also won the battle royal by lastly eliminating Caleb Storms.

It was at this point that we saw just how “out of shape” Giani truly was.  This must be the answer.  Giani Di Luca must be returning to the ring because he can’t stand to stay out of the spotlight for too long.  He always has a trick under his sleeve, knowing when to step away, and when to return to capitalize.  What better time to return than now?  We caught up with Giani for an interview.  Here is what he had to say…

The camera pans in to find Giani Di Luca sitting in a white leather chair inside of his Las Vegas home.  He has a glass of champagne in one hand, and the latest GQ Magazine in the other, which his face just happens to be on the cover of.

Giani:  Is that thing rollin’?

Cameraman:  Yes.

Giani quickly sets the magazine down next to him on the table where it is still visible.  He tries to feign embarrassment, but it doesn’t quite make it all the way through.  He chuckles in a fake nervous manner.

Giani:  Oh my, I didn’t realize I the camera was on, and I was holdin’ my latest magazine shoot of GQ, available at your nearest media resource.

Giani winks and snaps his fingers as he points at the camera.  He checks his reflection as he fixes a few pieces of stray hair, before giving himself the “Okay” symbol with his fingers and continues.

Giani:  How embarrassin’... But hey, it’s me, it’s me, it’s that Big Time G, back on ya TV screens, all with the thanks to TMZ.  You might remember me from such big productions as Sin City Wrestlin’ Climax Control, as ya Roulette, World Tag, and World Champions.  Might also remember me from such famous matches as the “I Quit” Match against Goth, or… let’s face it, just about any other match I’ve ever been in.

Giani shrugs his shoulders as if to say that it’s no big deal for him.  He holds it there so that we all get the hint.

Giani:  Been on so many screens, from Fuhgeddaboudit to all the W’s, like BACW, PW, SCW, HW, NLW, but I assure you that your favorite W is the one where my arms is held up after the match, and my theme music is blastin’ across the arena.  Ya know, the one I made so famous, even Tommy Knocks has that shit on his iPod to this very day.

Giani points at the camera as if singling Tommy Knocks out.  He flashes his perfect, pearly smile as he nods along to the beat of the music playing in his head.

Giani:  Yaknowhatimsayin’ bro?  Of course ya do.  Ya heard dem podcasts.  I’m still gettin’ royalty checks off’a that shit.  Just like every time one of my fresh tee’s flies off the shelves of the SCW Merchandise Shop, online or in person.  Trust me, when I heard I was bein’ booked this week, I demanded they stocked that shit to capacity for ya.

Giani holds up his “I Got Swag” shirt first, turning it around for everyone to see both sides.  He then flips up his “Fuhgeddaboudit” shirt with the Italian Stallion logo on the front.  He admires it for a second before picking up the winter cap with his logo on the front to show it off.

Giani:  All kinds’a good shit here.  Not to mention the backwards compatible Blaze of Glory game.  It’s all there for ya viewin’ pleasure.  Show ya support for the best thing to ever happen in SCW history and pick them up today.

Cameraman:  This isn’t supposed to be an advertisement for merchan…

Giani:  Speak only when spoken to.  This is my time.  Gawd, how unprofessional can ya be?

Giani shakes his head, getting clearly annoyed with the cameraman as they stop themselves dead in their tracks, leaving the camera set on Giani.  Giani takes a second to calm down, recomposing himself as he takes a deep breath.

Giani:  Damn, it’s been a while since I dealt with someone so rude.  Let’s see if I can get my mojo back.  This G don’t do cue cards.  It all comes from right up here.

Giani points to the side of his head as he starts to lighten up again.

Giani:  I was tryin’ to say that while I’m back inside of an SCW ring, it would be a good time to get the merch while I’m makin’ sure it’s stocked.  Does that make me such a bad guy?  I’m lookin’ out for my fans, and with how many there is, that, my friends, is a major responsibility.

Giani laughs as his eyes widen, truly believing that he is still God’s gift to wrestling.  He then shakes his head as he tries to play the cool nice guy again.

Giani:  So you wouldn’t believe how tough it was when SCW begged me to come back for the Gold Rush Tournament.  I mean, I was so outta shape.  BFP was at like 12%.  It was all them cheeseburgers and late nights out with the Bad Boys, yaknowhatimsayin’?  I almost didn’t even wanna do it.  I have only been in the ring once since I left SCW, so I got ring rust like a motherf*cker!  I didn’t think I was ready to come back to the ring.  The thought never even crossed my mind.

Giani looks as if he is about to laugh at the idea of returning to the ring.  He is in complete and utter shock that he’s even talking about it.

Giani:  But when I was on the phone with both Mark Ward AND Christian Underwood, and they was tryin’ to offer me more and more money, and I kept sayin’ “No”, but they kept offerin’ me higher numbers?  I mean, I don’t need money.  I’m set fuh life.  But I couldn’t help thinkin’ about all the fans out there who deserve to see a real wrestler.  For the first time in a long time, one of those is gonna be in an SCW ring.  I couldn’t sit here and think about lettin’ the fans down by sayin’ no for the fiftieth time.  I had to do it.

Giani looks sincere, but his words just won’t let us believe that he actually is.  After a couple seconds of silence, the cameraman speaks up.

Cameraman:  So this had nothing to do with a massive payout for you?

Giani:  I beg ya pardon, sir?  A payout?  What do ya take me for?  I got cars more expensive than anythin’ you’ll make in two lifetimes.  My house could put an entire orphanage through college.  My shoes could buy a small island on the Pacific, and you think this is about money?  Get outta heyyyyyyy…

Giani is clearly insulted now as he flips his fingers under his chin toward the camera.  He starts to get up, picking up the champagne once more to take a sip before setting it back down.

Giani:  Ya know what?  I’m through bein’ put on trial by some lousy cameraman from a shitty day time television gossip corner.  This interview is over.

Giani storms off of the scene for all of two seconds before coming back onto it.

Giani:  I’m doin’ this for the fans, ya jackass!  Don’t none uh ya at home believe this clown.  Comin’ back has nothin’ to do with money, and everythin’ to do with makin’ each and every one uh ya’s dreams come true.  That’s it, the end, fin!

Giani then storms out of the room for good this time.

Our inside sources have said that Giani refuses further commentary on the matter, but TMZ will not give up until we’ve found out the real answer to the question on everyone’s mind… Is Giani Di Luca… a homosexual?  Stay tuned as we continue our unrelenting search for answers.




That’s Two N’s Ya Jerk!
#NP "Middle Fingers” by Missio
Locale; Bad Boys Home - Las Vegas, NV

Once again, we find ourselves inside of the Bad Boys Home in Las Vegas.  Only this time, it is free of the production crew, but littered with empty alcohol bottles and stray clothing.  Gianni is passed out on the couch, covered up in a white sheet, various different drawings on his face, such as a dancing penis exclaiming “I’m Giani”, or the one pointing at the corners of his mouth.  He starts to stir a bit as he sits up in shock.  He picks up a pair of underwear, pulling them on under the sheet.  He yawns and stretches as he looks around to see he is alone.  He picks up a robe and wraps it around himself as he notices the camera.

Gianni:  I can’t believe that I forgot about this shit.  I forgot I set this whole thing up.  But I guess when ya The Reflection of Perfection, the Italian Stallion, Giannnnnnni Di Luca… ya always camera ready.

Gianni pauses as he looks from one side to the other to give off a view from all sides.

Gianni:  Now, I let it slide this once, but I am the artist formally known as Giani Di Luca.  Since I left SCW, I’ve decided to start over.  I’ve rebranded.  Take note that I am now… Gianni… Di… Luca.  That’s two N’s, ya jerk!

Gianni pauses for a second, letting it be known that he is serious now.  He narrows his eyes at the camera for a second before finally cracking his smile to soften his expression.

Gianni:  Now, legends are made, not born.  I think everyone knows that.  I could go on about my dog, J2H.  He worked hard, but I deserve my own time in the spotlight here.  I worked my ass off to get where I got in my career.  I fought some of the most brutal battles in the history of SCW.  I scratched and clawed my way to the top while I sat there.  I knocked down challenger after challenger.  I am a made man, but I made myself.  Sure, the support of the fans meant somethin’, but I did it all on my own.  The fans didn’t spend 72 hours a week in the gym, and another 72 travelin’, promotin’, or actually wrestlin’.  I did all that.  Days off were non existent, and I made sure I stayed ready at all times.  That was me.

Gianni nods his head at his statement, finding it endearing despite being completely insulting in saying it.

Gianni:  I didn’t have to flaunt a sad story, or try to hook up with the least attractive member of the bombshell roster to try to be relevant to the SCW history books.  I… just… was… Through determination and drive.  I’m not weak.  Can’t say the same for my opponent this week, Bo Dreamwolf.

Gianni shrugs as he leans down to begin picking things up to stay busy while he clearly doesn’t want to be bothered with this interview.

Gianni:  Bo Dreamwolf had a past.  Nobody knows exactly what that past was besides Austin Parker, but he did.  As far as SCW is concerned, his history has been holding the Roulette Championship for all of two minutes.  “But G, ya only held the belt for like two minutes”.  Right, right, BUT!  I had an impressive run with the tag belts and the world heavy.  I did things that Bo Dreamwolf can only dream of doin’ in his career.  I could do it if I wanted to, and that’s what this is all about.  I can do it again, and I will do it again.  Bo Dreamwolf can’t say the same.

Gianni deposits several of the bottles into a nearby trash can.

Gianni:  Takin’ out trash is what I’m good at, so I guess this makes sense.  Bo Dreamwolf has never been able to step up to the World Heavyweight Championship level.  That hasn’t changed.  And neither has my ability to carry that banner.  Come Sunday, Bo… I would make sure that ya got a back brace ready, cause if I’m feelin’ as hungover as I am right now, I won’t be in a great mood, and I might have to break it, again.  Climax Control is my time once again.  I will work my way over you, and whoever gets in my way will meet the same fate.  I’m comin’ for ya, Fenris.

Gianni nods his head to the thought.  However, he finishes picking up the bottles from the ground.  He waves off the camera as he takes the can toward the back door and the scene fades out.

[fin]

 <img src=https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A_3xaGICIAIVuew.jpg>


#BadBoysOriginsPartOne
#NP "I Get Around" - Beach Boys
Storyteller: Giani Di Luca


So here’s a little story ‘bout how this little thing came to be.  Ya knew there had to be a story behind this, right?  I mean, what could someone like me have in common with a fuckin’ skeeze like Mickey Carroll?  I’m a former reality TV star, famous for the show Fuhgeddaboudit, set in Seaside Heights, New Jersey.  Drama, drinks, and DTF chicks awwwwllllllll around.  You know you loved it.  Anyway, I broke out in a local promotion called Badass Championship Wrestlin’ where I was an instant sensation.  Just like on my TV show, people came from all around to watch me fight, ‘cause I got talent.  I snatched the Empire State Championship, and held that shit for six months.  I was fuckin’ boss.  Then, I came to SCW, and had a lil’ run with the tag titles with our current SCW World Heavyweight Champion, James Hun… J2H… before he was a thing.  We practically invented each other, and when we was defeated, I went on to win the very championship that Jimmy holds right now.  I won Match of the Year for the first I Quit match in SCW, with a little help from Hall of Famer, Goth.  Yeah, I did some impressive things here in SCW, while my brotha from anotha motha, Mickey Carroll, has done… well, nothin’.  Some tag title run with his old boy that some uh’ you might know.  Ben Jordan?

Basically, I already been at the top of the game, and the only reason I ain’t no more is because I didn’t, and still don’t, wanna be.  It’s Jimmy’s time.  Let him have it.  Mickey was never more than Ben’s lackey.  Held down in the shadows of his friend, and every friend he’s had since.  Look, his career has been so freakin’ pathetic that no one actually knew he was under one of the hoods of The Nobodies.  Fuckin’ sad, right?  He wasn’t even good enough to be a Nobody.  When this boy lay off the sauce a bit, he’s actually pretty brutal.  Just ask Dax Beckett how that turned out… Yeah, Dax, I see you lurkin’, but I’m doin’ great.  So the question everyone’s askin’, here’s the answer.  Mickey is my project.  He knows it.  Ain’t no secret he’s not on my level yet, but he’s gonna be, cause everything GDL, The Reflection of Perfection, The Italian Stallion, The King of the Six Sided Ring touches, turns to gold like my name was King Midas.  I’m gonna make Mickey Carroll a star, and together, we’re gonna take SCW to new heights while we sink to new lows, provin’ what happens when one forgets exactly who they messin’ with.

So, y’all came here for a story, and it’s story time bitch.  After one of many hot, sweaty, passionate three hour fuck sesh’s with the one and only First Class Bombshell of Sin City Wrestlin’, I look down at Veronica as her chest heaves, and sweat drips down my chin to my chest.  I can’t help but let out a laugh of satisfaction as I slowly lean down and kiss Veronica, cause I’m a romantic lover when I’m with that one special lady, and you don’t get more special than VT baby!

Me:  Damn baby… it’s been a little minute since we went that long.  I’m just glad you was able to keep up.

Veronica:  Just because I did a Snapchat during it, didn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying it.

Me:  It’s cool.  I sent a Snapchat to my boys too.  Hashtag it ain’t braggin’ if ya back it up.

I pull out my phone from under the pile of covers as I crawl beside Veronica, doin’ the duck face while she tries to hide her face.  After it’s snapped, she gives me a playful shove, but everyone knows VT can’t pass up a photo op.  I grab her wrists and pin them back as I climb over her.  She bites at her bottom lip as her eyes beg for round four.  I take a deep breath.

Me:  It’s been a while since I got that physical, not since bein’ in the ring.  I kinda miss it.

Veronica:  If you miss it so much, why don’t you return to it?  Just because the Bombshell Division freaking sucks doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have some alright guys to face, even if they are masic beyond any kind of help.

Me:  They still couldn’t handle the Stampede!  Besides, I been away too long.  You know how fuckin’ retarded those fans are.  Legends go away for a month, and everybody forgets who they are.  I don’t wanna hafta fight up from the bottom, cause we both know that’s beneath me.  I deserve to be right at the top, where a King rightfully should be.

Veronica:  I know, baby.  I know.  Have you ever thought about how pulling some worthless piece of crap wrestler from obscurity and making them relevant would help your career?  I mean, it would show just how important you really are to the company.

I sit there for a second, because my girlfriend usually doesn’t have the greatest ideas, but this one is the shit.  I kiss her on the cheek before jumping out of bed to grab my phone off of the nightstand.

Me:  Mickey Carroll!  He’s the most worthless piece of shit I’ve ever had the displeasure of workin’ with!  He stays drunk.  His work ethic is shit.  His swag is abysmal.  For someone with such an interestin’ backstory, his personality is about as amusin’ as a drunk paint drying on a wall of shit!  He’s perfect!

So, that’s the pitch I gave him, and I was shocked when he told me to “Sod off” and a bunch of other kinda British, kinda Cockney, kinda Irish, but very freakin’ drunk shit I ain’t even tryin’ to understand.  Anyone would be bendin’ over backwards to work with me, but this guy earned my respect when he told me to “Take the piss, ye mingin’ muppet.”  Again, I don’t understand it, but it sounded kinda bad.

Eventually me and him came to an agreement.  Pretty much everybody in SCW suuuuucks, save for my boy J2H, so we need to get in there and teach these vampires and fuckboys some respect.  It turns out too, that Mickey Carroll knows this whole new level of drunk, where it’s like steppin’ into another dimension.  It costs a lot of money, and takes a lot of dedication, but we understand each other a lot better now.

So, long story short, ‘cause I got plenty of better things to be doin’, like Veronica Taylor *ZIIIIING!* I should be sayin’ a bunch of shit right now about our match comin’ up.  Truth is, I don’t really give a fuck about that match.  We already beat Andy G, and he’s more interestin’ than Ivan D.  Dax Beckett is more interestin’ than both of them combined, and he ain’t even worth our time.  What else is there to prove?  Bad Boys rule supreme over Dying Breed, and then we can move on to bigger and better things.  Soon enough, I might even be a two time SCW World Tag Team Champion…  Watch out Jet City...

 {{Rise}}

{21st Century Schizoid Man!}

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We fade to the inside of Michie Stadium of West Point, New York… the site of Sin City Wrestling’s last Super Card, High Stakes IV.  This was arguably one of SCW’s biggest shows, with some of the biggest matches, filled to capacity with high spots all around.  People said that this show made a few names into household names.  As many pieces of history that went down, there was one moment that everyone is still talking about, even on this very day…

However, tonight, the venue is quite silent.  Shadows are cast over the field where many fans packed in just three weeks ago, letting the heat of the spotlights keep them warm on the cold night.  Tonight, there isn’t a single soul, and that’s counting the warm body we see walking through the shadows of the field.  Once he reaches the center of the field, one set of lights flash on, illuminating the former Heavyweight and Tag Team Champion of SCW.  Tonight, he stands in a 2014 Year of the Stallion t-shirt, depicting a black horse, done in the Chinese Zodiac fashion.  He is wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans, and a white belt, as well as flashy white sneakers.  His iced out cross hangs from his neck as he pushes his South Pole sunglasses off of his face, and into his neatly done faux hawk.  His eyes are narrowed as he looks straight ahead at the camera.

Giani:  Fuck the bullshit…

Giani narrows his eyes further as his nostrils flare up.  His jaw clinches tightly as his warm breath sends steam coming from his mouth, forming a light cloud that blows away in the blustery wind.  He lifts his head up, but stares down his broad nose at the camera, disgust plastered all across his face.

Giani:  â€¦ it’s time for some straight talk.  We got some assholes runnin’ their mouths on Twitter about some gay fantasy they got involvin’ me and Ringo. I tried to play nice and politically correct, but let me tell ya one thin’… I don’t play for that team, bro’s.  I like the pussy.  The pink cookie, the hoo-hoo… vagina if yaknowhatimsayin’…?

Giani winks playfully as if he were taunting his targets from afar, though this is not how he prefers to address his problems, but this will have to do for now.  He shrugs his shoulders up for a second and then waves it off.

Giani:  Nah… of course ya don’t.  Look, I ain’t callin’ ya faggots. Far be it from me to say what ya are.  Oh, oh… sorry, ya didn’t like that phrasin’?  Does fudge packer work better for ya?  No?  Butt pirate?  Ass master?  Fairy?  Pansy?  Homo?  Bum boy?  Damn, you must be pretty sensitive, but what can ya expect from the fairer spectrum of humanity?  No wonder The Players Club came with Delia Darlin’s personal stamp of approval.  She’s the Queen of the Queers, so I guess it all adds up now.

Giani crosses his arms over his chest as he sneers at the camera.  He lets out his obnoxious signature laugh as he stares across the field and directly into the camera as it zooms in on his face.

Giani:  Look, I ain’t callin’ ya fellas Tinkerbell’s.  All I’m sayin’ is that it must be natural to start diggin’ the D when ya can’t get the V.  Do the three of ya even got one popped cherry to ya names?  Look, I’m bein’ fair.  One between the three of ya would suffice.  No?  Alright then.  I don’t care if ya fuck women, dudes, stuffed animals, farm animals… That ain’t none uh my business.  Get ya Bad Bromance on, kids.  But, uh… one thing… Leave me and my crew out ya fantasies. Look, I get it… we’re attractive guys. I mean, we knee deep in cooch at all times. I know I can’t turn the corner without havin’ a piece of pink berry pie up in my face.  Just stop inserting us into ya brunchin’, cock munchin’ fantasies.  If ya stop projectin’ ya own insecurities onto us on a public forum, then I might consider not kickin’ ya asses in the near future.  Do we got a deal, bitch boys?

Giani tilts his head to the side as if he were waiting for an answer from The Players Club.  After a minute, when an answer doesn’t come, he shakes his head before looking down at his feet.

Giani:  Look, just three weeks ago, these ass hats stepped foot into SCW, and in true bitch fashion, they triple teamed some dude from behind. At least they was kind enough to use lube, if ya count the leftovers from their ménage a trios that took place just moments before the attack, of course.  See, that’s one benefit of bein’ part of Power Play.  We ain’t busy watchin’ each other’s front.  We got each other’s backs.  That’s how a team should work.

Giani reaches down to the ground, picking up a bottle of Smart Water, as is obligatory any time he has the cameras on him.  He pops open the sports cap and sprays some into his mouth before closing the cap and holding it label out.

Giani:  Speakin’ of High Stakes 4, there’s a question eatin’ people alive like a zombie horde.  Why did I turn on Equinox?  I mean, that was THE question of the night, right?  Nobody saw that comin’.  That poof, Christian Underwood, can say he saw it comin’ from a mile away, but ya know gays and their need to get the last word in, right?  They all gotta be Miss Cleo’s er somethin’.  Only three people saw that comin’, and it was me, J2H, and Mister JN Ringo.  I can tell ya first hand, from the look on Equinox’s face when I caught him in mid air, that look of confusion that quickly turned into betrayal, seconds before I knocked him unconscious… he damn sure wasn’t expectin’ it.

Giani chuckles to himself as he reenacts catching Equinox before slamming him down to the mat.  He walks with his patented swagger around what we can only assume he is imagining is the ring.  He then drops down to the ground and does three push ups, one for each count.

Giani:  My lawyers will be in touch with upper management, because I will be named when people talk about Triple Crown Champions of Sin City Wrestlin’.  But, that’s beside the point, right?  We’re tawkin’ about Equinox.  The freak who has to hide behind a mask.  The idiot who has to pretend he got mental problems so that he can stand out from the crowd by inventin’ new catch phrases every week.  Are your fans Monsters?  Jokers?  Ghosts? Goblins?  The fuck, kid?  Stick with one…

Giani shakes his head as he rolls his eyes.  He takes a few steps closer to the camera, running his hand over his face as he wipes the amusement right off.  With a serious expression now etched across his face, he puffs his chest out and glances down at his watch Rolex before he stares right into the camera.

Giani:  Ya know, it’s funny when ya buy a lightweight a drink, they open up about all kinds of useful information.  Pass the tweaker a pipe, and he can handle that shit, but one shot of Jack Daniels put some hair on his bawls, and I was his best fuckin’ friend in the world.  I heard lots of secrets that cost him his cherished Roulette Championship right here, exactly five hundred and four hours ago, to the minute.  We’re gonna see a repeat in just a few days at Climax Control 100 when I knock his ass out with the Jersey Turnpike, and pin him for the one, two, three.  I’ll end his dreams of ever gettin’ that title back around his waist, I promise ya that.  But, it ain’t his fault I did what I did.  He was just the  catalyst for our plan.  Nah, it wasn’t his fault…

Giani nods his head as if there is a slight bit of regret attacking his conscience.  He looks away from the camera, as he bites at his bottom lip, trying to stop the words from coming out.  However, in true Giani fashion, he fails miserably.  But, by the time it happens, he doesn’t care.  He wants to rub it in as he stares deep into the camera, his dark brown eyes almost seeming glassy and vacant.

Giani: … it was your fawlt.  Every one uh ya, the fans.  YOU did it.  I’m Giani Di Freakin’ Luca!  I’m the Italian Stallion!  The King of Kings!  The Reflection of Perfection!  I feel like I gotta repeat myself here, but I got a point, I promise.  I never said you was gonna like it, but there’s a point nevertheless.  You gave me back the confidence I needed to win a Number One Contendership to the SCW Heavyweight Championship.  You forgave me for becomin’ the asshole I was… the asshole I am…  You let me redeem myself.  I was so thankful for the opportunity to become a better person.  I repaid ya by winnin’ an “I Quit” match against the champion, Goth.  I carried that belt for somethin’ like three months… for you!  We had a good time, didn’t we?  I was YOUR champion.  Then, I came up a little short against Simon Jones… I had a hard time with that loss.  I felt like I let y’all down.  I beat myself up for months over that.  I couldn’t show my face cause I let down the people who helped me improve.  It took a lot to get past that shit, dawg…

Giani narrows his eyes as if he feels the pain rushing back once again.  Bitterness comes over his face as he sneers spitefully at the camera.  He shakes his head as he laughs in pure frustration.

Giani:  Ya know what helped me get over that?  When I looked around, and noticed no one gave a shit I was gone.  My mentor was the only one who checked up on me.  Now, you fuckers ran him off with ya Flavor of the Month bullshit attitude.  He can blame some ugly drag queens all he wants, but it was all of his hard work gettin’ shit on by you douchebags that sent him packin’.  He’ll deny it, but there’s a reason he was pulled from all Climax Control 100 promotional materials.  It wasn’t cause he’s buildin’ a nursery for his new bundle of joy.  It’s cause as soon as some fresh set of pecks flexes in front of ya, ya forgot about everythin’ he did for this piece of shit promotion.  He tried to play the nice guy, but guess what?  He nearly blew his brains out in the locker room, week in and week out while watchin’ ya cheer for a bunch of cocky pricks like Drake Green, Matthew “Crash” Carson, Jamie Dean, Aaron Matthews, Ben Jordan… the list goes on and on, and on…  You shit on his accomplishments, just like ya shit on mine.  Hell, by shittin’ on mine, you shit on his yet again!

Giani spits venoms at the camera as he grows more and more angry.  He balls up his fists, ready to tackle the cameraman, but with one shake of the fists, he closes his eyes and collects himself somewhat as he growls under his breath.

Giani:  I had a meetin’ with James, and he told me that this Ringo cat was legit.  I didn’t trust that, but the beauty of this arrangement is that I didn’t have to.  I had to trust that Equinox would be a good little sheep while I tested out the waters of Power Play.  I almost had a change of heart though. I nearly decided to come back and be ya next flavor of the month… until the Year End Awards came around.  I got two nominations; Man of the Year, and Match of the Year with Goth.  I knew you would vote for Drake. It’s cool, he comes out every week and kisses ya ass.  He got his neck snapped like a twig courtesy of Sean Jackson, and he still came back to fight for ya.  I got it… but the match though…….

Giani lets that thought linger for a moment as he can see the massacre that took place.  The property damage that came out of his and Goth’s check left them with next to nothing… nothing but a championship belt that Giani left with.  The epic match seems to fly through his head within ten seconds before he snaps back to reality.

Giani:  But ya disgustin’ perverts voted for some chicks bleedin’ all over the ring, like they don’t do that once a month anyway…  Forget tearin’ up a venue, and leavin’ twice as much blood smeared across the walls backstage, the bruised bones, busted ribs, busted noses, and Goth’s make up replacement costs… Let’s vote for somethin’ that looks like a Suicide Girls promotional video, ya fuckin’ freaks!  That right there...

Giani points right at the screen with both index fingers as his voice raises drastically.

Giani:  THAT was the final straw.  I knew from that moment on that I was gonna fuck Equinox over.  I was gonna leave him knocked out in the ring as a way to show solidarity with my brothers… BROTHERS… of Power Play.  So, while ya busy pointin’ the finger at me, look at the three pointin’ right back atcha.  Instead of playin’ politics, you’re gonna have to play… Power!

Giani nods his head with a bit of an evil grin on his face as he chuckles. He waves off the camera as he shakes his head, taking a moment to enjoy his smart ass comment.  He closes his eyes as the moment fades.  When he finally comes back to, he gets serious once more.

Giani:  Look, I spent enough time tawkin’ about you.  That’s about five minutes more of my attention than you assholes deserve.  Not that Equinox deserves any more of it than I’ve already given him, but he’s my opponent.  I wonder what he thinks of the venue I chose.  See, I can play mind games too. You do remember who mentored me, right?  If not, rewind a few minutes, and you should be able to put two and two together, bro.  The master of mind games taught me a lot of tricks.  But, unlike you, Equinox, everythin’ I do has a purpose. I don’t do stuff just to draw attention to myself.  I don’t run around actin’ a fuckin’ fool, with no rhyme or reason to anythin’ I do.  I want you to watch this from beginnin’ to end, kid.  I want ya to take a look around this stadium, and imagine all of the fans screamin’ our names.  I want you to remember leapin’ off of that turnbuckle, right over there… I know ya see it ya fuckin’ looney toon…

Giani points behind himself as he stares at the imaginary turnbuckle he speaks of.  He pauses so to give Equinox a second to envision it, and replay the events of High Stakes 4 in his mind.  Once he thinks Equinox has done so, he turns back to the camera, but he takes a few steps back.

Giani:  I want ya to feel the cool air flyin’ through ya nappy hair as ya soar through the air, with a collision course set for J2H.  Do ya feel it yet?  Good, now I want ya to close ya eyes just like ya did when you was just a few feet from crashin’ into my brother.  Do ya remember that feelin’?  That taste of victory on the tip of ya tongue?  That sweet, savory taste like the nectar of the Gods?  Your tongue searches ya entire mouth, tryin’ to lap it awl up, until ya swore ya got hit by a freakin’ bus.

Giani lunges forward with all of his weight, scooping up an imaginary Equinox.  He turns around to face the camera once again, his shoulder slumped over as he carries this imaginary foe toward the camera.

Giani:  Feel that confusion.  I must’ve been jokin’ right?  There’s no way someone who listened to ya deepest, darkest secrets could betray ya, right?  RIGHT?  Then, that sickening feelin’ washes over ya entire body when ya realize… I wasn’t playin’ around.  I was as serious as a freakin’ heart attack.  You looked over at the time table… at ya Roulette Championship, cause ya knew it was the last time you would see it.  It was goin’ back to where it belonged.  Then, I made ya wait.  Ya tried to struggle out of that Bear Hug, but ya just couldn’t. I was too powerful for ya.  Club all ya want, but I wasn’t gonna let ya go until I squeezed every last breath outta ya.  And just before ya passed out, I made sure you was aware enough to feel the final blow as I slammed ya down to the mat.  You was out cold, dawg…  Just like ya gonna be on Sunday.  I’ll make damn sure of it, kid.  So go on and tawk about how ya gonna get ya revenge on me at Climax Control 100. Spew that garbage on Twitter like it’s gonna change that fact, and I do mean FACT!

Giani’s eyes widen, but he seems to be enjoying himself as he drops down to the ground, hunched over the imaginary foe.  He mutters a few secret words to the turf below him, nodding his head as he keeps the secret for himself and Equinox only.  He slowly lifts his head as he stares back into the camera one last time.

Giani:  Think about it.  No one would blame ya if ya didn’t show up to the ring on Sunday, bro.  Well, the fans might.  Since ya don’t got gold anymore, they will start cheerin’ for the next flavor.  But, I will grant ya one last act of kindness, E-Dawg.  I won’t trash tawk ya for chickenin’ out.  I know what I’m capable of, and you do as well.  This is ya free pass.  Don’t show up, save me the effort of workin’ up a sweat to repeat old history.  I’ll let ya fade into the abyss like the nothin’ that ya are, and our beef will be over.  But… don’t take that as me chickenin’ out, cause I’ll gladly knock the fuck outta anyone stupid enough to cross me without givin’ it a second thought.  If ya do show up, I will take somethin’ away from ya.  Ya don’t got a title to take away, so maybe I’ll take away ya motor skills with my patented “Shufflin’” three punch combo.  Maybe I’ll take your ability to walk away with the Fin.  Or, maybe I’ll take ya mask so I can expose ya for the scared little bitch that ya are.  You’ve been warned, Equinox…

Giani does three slow push ups, mimicking the three count once more before pushing himself back up to his feet.  He looks down at the shirt he is wearing, and with a laugh, he rips the shirt down the middle in one quick motion.  He tosses it to the ground to reveal another white shirt with a black fist symbol on the center of his chest.  He nods his head, letting it linger for a second before he lifts his fist into the air.  As he does so, J2H and JN Ringo walk into the shot, fists raised, and the same shirt being displayed.  Giani looks to his left to see J2H.  J2H nods his head, prompting Giani to look to his right.  Ringo gives a firm nod as well, and then Giani looks up at his fist.  He loudly snaps his fingers as the lights shut off in the stadium, shrouding them in darkness once more as we fade.

{21st Century Schizoid Man!}

{fin}

 {Wrecked}

The slow sound of a heartbeat is heard.  With each pulse is a faint flash of red against the blackness.  After a moment of this, a low toned groan is heard.  The screen slowly parts in two spots as if eyes are starting to open, but they quickly clinch back together, enveloping the screen in black once more.  The pulsing continues, but becomes a bit more steady as shallow breaths are heard.  After a moment, the eyes part again, showing off a hazy glimpse of the six sided ring that is Sin City Wrestling’s trademark.  The roaring boos of the audience is heard as a much louder groan cuts them off.  The red flashes across the screen still with each beating of the heart.  We see a hand reaching up to cover one of the eyes, the olive tone gives it’s owner away immediately as a low toned growl escapes Giani’s lips.  He looks around at the fans who shift gears and begin cheering for their Heavyweight Champion.  Giani slowly gets up, stumbling around a bit as he leans on the turnbuckle.  His instincts tell him to show the fans that he is unaffected by what had just happened, so he weakly pumps his fist as he regains his composure.  He leans down and picks up the Heavyweight strap, holding it high in the air as he slowly spins around, showing everyone that the belt had gone nowhere.  Their cheers of support override the sound of “Wrecked” by Killbot as it starts playing over again.  Giani’s eyes come to rest on the curtains as they are still swaying from Max Burke’s exit.  Giani’s eyes narrow as he grits his teeth.  He slings the belt over his shoulders

Belinda:  Ohhh, and the Champ is PISSED!

Jason:  That’s not very professional of you, Belinda…

Belinda:  We’re off the air, dipshit…

Giani marches over to the ropes, leaning over the top to do a one handed handstand as he exits the ring.  He lands on his feet and immediately marches to the ramp.  The fans slap his back, but what he was about to do was quite unsavory, and would even make the heel version of him from a few months ago shake in his boots.  The only thing in his line of sight was the curtains and what rested behind them.  He grins with sadistic intention as he rapidly approaches them.  Murderous thoughts seemed to cross his mind as he chuckles out loud.  The fans slowly stop slapping his back as he reaches the top of the stage.  He rests there for a moment, making sure that the violence he was about to inflict was worth the consequences, but the more he thought about the constant humiliation at the hands of Max Burke, it only seemed more and more worth it.  His smile widens, almost mimicking his mentor’s sick and twisted smile.  He shoves his way through the curtains, only to smack right into Spike himself.  Giani’s eyes widen as he takes a step back, looking at Spike as if he were about to be a victim of circumstance.

Spike:  Giani?  Giani!  Earth to Giani…

Giani says nothing, but instead gives Spike a violent shove to the side as he can see Burke off in the distance, even though he is nowhere to be found.  Giani continues on until Spike spins him around, giving him a shove of his own.  Giani’s nostrils flare as he stares a hole through Spike, giving him another shove.

Giani:  Get the FUCK outta my way, Spike!

Spike grits his teeth and checks Giani into the wall.  The adrenaline rushing through Giani’s body right now barely lets him feel the collision as he rushes Spike into the opposite wall as hard as he can, nearly doubling his mentor and friend over.

Giani:  Look bro, you don’t want none of what I got for that pussy ass piece of shit.  Do what’s best for ya and stay down, dawg…

Spike finds his bearings and spins Giani around, tossing a punch that would put a pro boxer to shame, busting Giani’s lip open in the process.  Giani looks shocked for a moment as he touches the bleeding spot on his lip.

Spike:  First off, you will never… EEEEEEEEEVER… treat me like a punk ass… ever again…  Are we clear, son?

Giani narrows his eyes, ready to rip Spike’s head off, but Spike gives him a look that suggests he give it a try.  Spike cracks his neck to one side, and then the other while simply staring at Giani.

Spike:  I asked you a question, Giani… Are we crystal fucking clear on that?

Giani takes a deep breath, calming down slightly as he nods his head in agreement.  Spike loosens up his stance a bit as he moves in closer to Giani, earning a bit of his trust.  Giani still doesn’t loosen up as he stares down the hallway.

Giani:  Why did ya stop me, bro?  Ya so concerned about lookin’ like a punk ass in front of the stagehands when I just got made to look like one in front of the entire viewin’ audience!  Twice!

Spike:  In due time, Gi… you will have your revenge.

Giani groans as he grips his forehead with both hands, trying not to snap at his friend again.  He turns around and frantically pounds his fists against the wall, trying to relieve some of this pent up rage inside of him.

Giani:  When?  WHEN?!?  Ya said that about the last time, I would embarrass him in the ring where it belongs.

Spike flicks his fingers against the Heavyweight Championship belt on Giani’s shoulders as proof that his plan worked.  Giani growls and chucks the belt across the hall, allowing it to land on the ground behind Spike.

Giani:  That didn’t embarrass him.  Did ya see how close he came to winnin’ that belt?

Spike:  But… he… didn’t!  You did.

Giani:  And then the bastard put me on my head for it!  This high road bullshit is startin’ to wear thin on me, bro… I want to be the good guy, the hero… but maybe I ain’t cut out for it, dawg… Yaknowhatimsayin’?

Spike shakes his head firmly in the negative as he stares at Giani.  Giani simply rolls his eyes as he continues his trek down the hallway.  Spike leans down and picks up Giani’s belt as he quickly follows after him.  Giani steps over the mess of the ruined catering table, nearly slipping on a piece of pastrami.  He recovers without missing a step until Spike turns him around again.

Giani:  Bro!  Would ya stop doin’ that?  I’m gonna hunt down that shit stain and I’m gonna smear his face across the wall, and if his ugly ass girlfriend tries to get involved, I’ll smear hers too…

Spike:  Giani, this isn’t you…

Spike sounds disappointed as he looks into Giani’s eyes, seeing the anger boiling over.  This was a feeling that he knew all too well, and one that took every ounce of his being to overcome.

Spike:  You are better than that, kiddo… Seriously, I would rather you use me as a punching bag than watch you lose every damned thing you worked your ass off to get.

Giani:  It’s just a freakin’ belt.  If I get fired, at least I will go out with a bang…

Spike looks down at the belt and then back up to Giani with a look of disdain on his face.  Spike clutches the belt closely to his chest as he narrows his eyes at Giani.

Spike:  I worked my ASS off for this belt, so don’t you dare say “It’s just a freakin’ belt” to me…  It’s my legacy, and it could be yours too.  And with the amount of work you put into it, you’re just going to let some goon of Mark Ward take it all away from you?  Well, guess what?

Giani:  I dunno… but I got the feelin’ ya about to enlighten this young grasshopper, kimosabe.

Spike:  Ohhh, don’t patronize me, Giani… I thought we were all past this after I bent your crotch like Beckham?  Do you need a refresher, because I’d be more than happy to…

Giani simply lowers his eyes, trying his best to get a grip on the rage that has mounted inside of him.  Spike rears his leg back, spinning it as if he were ready to send his boot into Giani’s crotch again.  Giani takes another deep breath, looking up at Spike as if waiting patiently for an answer to his question.  Spike steps back on both feet, but his stone like expression remains etched on his face.

Spike:  If you give it all up, Burke wins again.  You know damn well that Mark will pin that belt on him, and the greatest threat to the belt will have been booted out of the company.  You will look like a punk ass for a third time thanks to Burke, and that’s exactly what he wants.  He didn’t have to work to get into that title match, so why should he have to work to get the belt?  And, in the end, he will have fully defeated you.  But… if that’s what you want…?

Spike leaves it lingering like a question as he waves his arms out to his left side as if to allow Giani to go back on his path of self destruction.  Giani looks at Spike apologetically as he reaches out his hand for a peace offering.  Spike softens his expression, smiling as he shakes hands with Giani.

Spike:  I’m so glad I could talk some sense into…

With that, Giani lets go of Spike’s grip and continues storming off down the hallway.  Spike grunts in aggravation as he watches Giani turn over any obstacle that rests in his way.  The stagehands groan as they had just finished cleaning up the mess from Delia and Amy Marshall earlier, and Spike just shakes his head in frustration, sighing as he hesitates following him for fear of what he might need to interfere with.  As he passes a cross hallway, he is immediately cut off by someone wearing a black hooded jacket, their head bowed.  Spike looks at them curiously as he passes, watching the person pull a toothpick from under their hood.  He mouths “what the…” as he proceeds cautiously.  The man in the hooded jacket simply chuckles in a distorted manner as he turns to watch Spike.

{Voice distorted to protect the identity of Mystery Man}
Mystery Man:  That’s right… round up the wild stallion.  Tame him, Spike… Wrangle him good, because I have plans for this one, and we can’t have him flying off of the handle like that…

The mystery man places the toothpick back under the hood, presumably in his mouth as he turns to walk down the hallway behind Spike, keeping a safe distance so not to arouse any more suspicion.  Unfortunately, he is too late as Spike turns around, hearing the mutters of the mystery man as if he were meant to hear it.

Spike:  And who the hell do you think you are?  Telling me what I need and need not to do…

The man chuckles as he walks up to Spike, at a slight disadvantage in height, but he doesn’t let that deter him one bit.

Mystery Man:  I have good money riding on that horse to finish the race.  He will lose when I want him to, but until then, you better keep him in line, or else… things… might happen.

Spike:  Oh yeah?  Is that some sort of threat?  Are you threatening me, you sackless coward?

The man steps up to Spike, still able to keep his identity a secret, he tugs on Spike’s own leather jacket, lightly straightening it as he answers Spike.

Mystery Man:  A threat?  From me?  Oh, of course not, Spike… I don’t make threats… I make promises…  And I promise you one thing.  If you don’t keep Giani in line, then your usefulness will be diminished, and if you are no longer useful to me… well, let’s worry about that later.  You have a family to think about, so…

The man jerks Spike’s jacket toward himself, tripping Spike up a bit as he closes the jacket, patting Spike on the chest with a chuckle before turning away and bowing his head once more.

Mystery Man:  … do the right thing, and put him back on track.  Sell some more NXT and “The Italian Stallion” merchandise.  I’m sure your kids could use the extra money…

Spike grits his teeth as the man walks off down the hallway.  He contemplates following the man for a moment, but decides against it as he turns around to find Giani.  He looks back over his shoulder, but the man is clear out of sight.  Spike shakes his head and continues on his search.


*********************************************************************
{Warrior}

The golden luster of a crown comes into view as the camera fades in.  The light reflects the splendor of the meaningless symbol of self-appointed power, panning around to see the ruby red jewels.  Each one tells a story from deep within, however, we will come to focus on the one that is front and center, because our eyes gravitate toward the largest of them all…

Once upon a time, there was a man whose heart had been ripped right out from his chest by an evil Queen.  He spent the remainder of his years searching all the lands for some resemblance of happiness, only to come up short each and every time.  He had lost all hope.  Bitterness had taken over, and the spirit of The Dragon had filled the empty crevices of his chest with fire and brimstone.  Revenge, power, riches, and pride had taken over the space that had once been filled with love, compassion, laughter, and… well, the pride was always there, but most importantly there was hope.  But to every story, there is a beginning…

We fade in to find a man upon a wooden canoe in the middle of a surprisingly calmed ocean.  The aforementioned crown rests upon his head and a salt water soaked cape of red, lined with white and black fur sprawled out underneath him.  The harsh sun beats down on his face, slowly but surely burning him to death.  He simply stares at the sun in hopes of blinding himself to ensure that he does not have to see himself die.  His olive skin is starting to turn red, and his lips crack from dehydration.  He takes slow, shallow breaths, ready to give up as he sails along.  We pan out slightly to see many pieces of wood surrounding his canoe, one of which reads “S.S. Stallion”.  A lone survivor of a ship wreck, stranded for days, and nearing his end, he can’t even muster the strength to sit up to inspect the menacing sound of water splashing around him.  Hopefully it would be a shark that would tear him apart, an act of mercy that he had been praying for.  The sound ceases, and he lets out a raspy groan, knowing that he must live another minute in these conditions.

The seagulls begin to gather around the edge of the boat, seeking out fresh meat to satisfy their hunger.  Their taunting calls echo through Prince Giani’s ears as he welcomes them.  The first comes down, leading the rest to begin pecking at his flesh, taking chunks with them.  He doesn’t even have the strength to shout out in pain, though his face shows it plenty.  More and more of these sea vultures begin to gather, nearly covering his body.  Their screeching calls gather even more until the sound of water splashing stops them for a brief moment.  They look around before returning to eating the prince alive.  Only a few seconds pass before Giani’s ears ring, drowning out the sounds of their cries and the rippling water all around him.  He closes his eyes, or the sun has blinded him.  He can’t really tell.  All he feels is the pain of their beaks tearing into his flesh.  It slowly fades away, and this is when he knows he is dead…

A wave of warmth washes over him and the pain seems to disappear.  Sweet, sweet relief…

Giani:  Surely, I must be in Heaven.  Oh, how I long for thy splendor.  I must open my eyes to partake of thy beautiful kingdom…

Giani opens his eyes to see that nothing has changed, except the seagulls have disappeared.  He looks down to see the gaping holes in his skin, spouting small bits of blood to stain his white shirt.  He seems confused as he sees a woman gently pouring water over his wounds, instantly erasing them.  He feels his lips cracking as the iron taste seeps into his mouth.  In a raspy voice, he addresses the woman.

Giani:  Hast I landed in Hell rather than Heaven?  Surely this cannot be the Utopia I imagined of Heaven…

Giani’s blurry vision slowly fades after the water falls over his face.  He feels strength returning to his muscles as he sits up to see the long flowing brunette hair of the woman, covering her chest as she looks over into his deep, dark eyes.  Her blue eyes sparkle, even glow, as she heals his body with magic.  He looks to her curiously as he sees the fins.

Giani:  Ha!  A treacherous mermaid hast saved me?  But at what price, I ask thee?

The mermaid gently flicks her fins as a gentle chuckle escapes her lips.  She licks at her crimson lips as she slithers up his body, her hair hanging over him as she stares down into his eyes.

Mermaid:  So sayeth a man?  A species known for destroying and consuming everything of this world haveth the nerve to call me treacherous?  Perhaps I should conjure a dictionary for thee?

Giani:  I needn’t be reminded of such a word.  I am Prince Giani, kind and compassionate.  I cannot be blamed for what mine brother does.

Mermaid:  As I cannot be blamed for what mine sisters hath done to thy brothers.  It would seem we have different definitions of our words, Prince Giani…

The mermaid reaches into the water outside of the boat, scooping up a small handful.  She brings her hand just below Giani’s lips as he rolls his eyes.

Giani:  Doth thou find me an idiot?  Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink!  Such water would be the death of me, wench!

Mermaid:  Such water as this healed your body, allowing your entrails to return to their proper position.  Surely thou must believe this water is as safe as any to drink once blessed by a… was it treacherous… mermaid?

Giani takes a deep breath as he slowly parts his lips, taking a small sip from the mermaid’s hand.  He tastes the bitter salt, but he feels he owes this kind creature the courtesy of swallowing it.  He feels the tingle in his throat, and the tingling grows into a warm sort of fuzzy feeling if you will.  He can feel himself come back to life from just a small sip of this water.  He takes a deep breath, struggling not as the air fills his lungs.  He lets out a laugh of disbelief as he reaches up and hugs onto the mermaid.  He immediately sits up and plants a kiss on her cheek as he continues to laugh.

Mermaid:  See what faith hast bestowed upon thee?  My magic only works if thou believe it will.

Giani:  Oh, blessed day!  I know not how to repay thee, kind and merciful being.  Gold, perhaps?

Mermaid:  Gold, I have aplenty.  Saving people is, well, it’s kind of my thing.  Maybe thou could tell the story of the mermaid who saved thine life?  Perhaps then, people won’t think we are all treacherous.

The mermaid takes a canteen that is strapped around Prince Giani’s waist and dips it into the sea, quickly filling it.  Her eyes glow as the water is being blessed.  She screws the cap back on and hands it over to Giani.

Mermaid:  This should get thou back to thy land of Jersey safely.

With that, the mermaid quickly slides back into the water before Giani can say a word.  He looks frantically around as he sees her about to submerge.

Giani:  WAIT!?

She stops and slowly turns around with a smile on her face.  Giani leans over the edge of the boat, trying to figure out how he might be able to keep this moment frozen in time.  The first thing that comes to mind is…

Giani:  What is thy name, kind mermaid?

The mermaid pauses for a moment, her crimson lips curling into a smile as she looks directly into Giani’s eyes.

Mermaid:  Mary… Anne… Rebecca… What does it matter?  A mermaid saved thy life.  That’s the important detail to the story…

Giani:  When I retell this story, I could calleth thou Ariel for all I care… but I must know the name of the woman who hath stolen my heart and showed me kindness despite mine own ignorance.

Mermaid:  But I shall never see’st thou again.  Jersey is far away.

The mermaid turns around, ready to take off beneath the water’s surface once more until Giani reaches out and grabs onto her shoulder, falling into the water in the process.  The mermaid gasps as she turns around and looks at Giani as he sputters in the water.  She offers him a genuinely sweet smile as she runs her fingers across his forehead, moving the hair from his face before running her nails down his cheek gently.

Mermaid:  Bianca… Mine name is Bianca, Prince Giani.  Hast this knowledge made our parting any easier for thee?

Giani shakes his head, leaning in, pressing his lips against hers as she wraps her arms around him.  They slowly sink into the water as fish rise up, circling around them as they fall deeper and deeper.  They clasp their hands together as they too circle one another.  Love fills Giani’s eyes as their fingers slowly separate.  She lowers down in the water as Giani rises.  He tries to swim down toward her, but she disappears into the darkness of the sea as the fish raise him back up to the surface where he takes a deep breath, a broken heart of his own doing causes him to sit there for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at the now red sky as the day melts into the night.  The setting sun reflects off of his eyes as a tear drips down his cheek, blending in with the rest of the salty sea pouring from his face.

We pan out further to see the crown resting upon Giani’s head.  The tear is still on his cheek as he seems to be in a moment of pause, not even taking a breath.  A bittersweet smile is on his face for a moment until he snaps back to reality.  He looks down at the book in front of him that shows Prince Eric and Ariel living happily ever after with true loves kiss, but he knows that’s not how it really ends.  He looks over at the pink bed of a six year old Eden Staggs as she lies fast asleep.  She isn’t the only one as he looks down to see Dixie resting on his chest as well.  He wipes the tear from his cheek gently as he closes the book.  He starts to set it down on the floor next to the rocking chair that he’s in, but he can’t seem to let go of it.  He sets it down on his lap and rests his head gently on top of Dixie’s as he closes his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep, a happy ending with his Princess Dixie in mind as he does so.


*********************************************************************
{Royals (Pt 1)}

Ever since the announcement of this weeks Climax Control, people have had one thing to say.  Between the fans, and even the Stars and Bombshells of Sin City Wrestling, Twitter has been alive with #TeamOhEmGi .  There are many rumors running around that this is the team to fear.  If you asked Giani Di Luca himself if he agreed, he would likely respond with #FUHGEDDABOUDIT !

The streets are alive with people on this warm day in Las Vegas, people coming out of the woodwork to enjoy the near 80 degree weather.  The light overcast doesn’t deter any of them as they buzz about happily.  Giani Di Luca is seen walking amongst the crowd, giving the occasional wave to those who recognize him.  He tilts down his sunglasses to take in one particular hottie, but after a simple nod, he goes back to minding his own business with his ear buds blasting “Alive” by Nekromantix (WHAT?!).  The warm weather really shows on Giani who is used to far worse back home at this time of year.  He is wearing a pair of Adidas charcoal grey and yellow shorts with a black NXT hoodie as he jogs the street.  He stops at a crosswalk, but continues to jog in place until the light turns green.  He continues on down the road, the blocks almost seeming to fade into one another.  He barely knows where to turn, as he almost seems to fade into the psychobilly music that is blasting in his ears.  As he continues on, the sweat starts to pour down his reddened face before he realizes that his jog had turned into a run at some point.  He smirks as he sees the Staggs Dungeon sign on the beat up building at the other end of the block.  He steadies his pace back to a jog as he comes around a young couple walking hand in hand.  He comes to the door and skids to a stop.  He catches his breath before pulling on the door handle, pulling his ear buds out gently, still letting the music play as he comes inside.

Giani:  Ey yo, Spike!  You was right, Nekromantix is the shit…

Giani stops as he sees Pussy Willow standing next to the ring, lightly conversing with Spike.  Giani takes slow steps inside as he looks around.  Confusion covers his face as he approaches the group, giving Pussy a nod before pulling Spike a few feet away, leaning in to whisper to him.

Giani:  Uhhhh, is there somethin’ you isn’t tellin’ me about, bro?  I thought we was gonna get some trainin’ in today.  I wanna be in tip top shape for this one, and uhhh… unless you’re comin’ outta retirement, which would be wicked awesome… No, stop me here… Why is she here?

Spike chuckles as he looks over Giani’s shoulder to see Pussy standing there looking excited to be inside of the Dungeon.  He looks back to Giani with a warm sort of smile on his face.

Spike:  I’m totally coming out of retirement.  Why don’t you go wail on some punching bags while I make the announcement.

Giani:  What the…?  Seriously, dawg?!  That’s awesome!

Spike:  No, see there’s this sort of obligation to do interviews from time to time, especially when you’re a Heavyweight Champion going in to a match, possibly a tournament of some sort…

Giani sneers at Spike who chuckles out loud, patting Giani on the shoulder.  Giani sticks his tongue out at Spike as he continues to catch his breath.  He reaches back into his backpack and pulls out a towel, wiping his face off as he slings it over his shoulder.  He takes a deep breath and then mutters under his breath as he turns around.

Giani:  Douchebag…  Pussy!  How are ya?

PW:  I’m great, thanks for asking.

Giani:  Well, it wasn’t the first time I asked that today, so…

Giani pauses for a laugh from Pussy, who instead looks more confused than Giani did when he walked into the gym.  Giani waits for a moment to let her work it out, but finally gives up hope.

Giani:  Yeah, anyway… Sorry I look like shit, I was plannin’ on just trainin’ today, so my hair ain’t done and all…

PW: Oh, it’s no worry at all.  Has anyone ever told you that you look even better roughed up like that?

Giani:  Baby, Giani Di Luca looks good no matter what!  Hahahaha…

Pussy looks at Giani and nods her head to concede to him.  However, Giani clears his throat and straightens up his posture after lowering his backpack to the ground behind him.  Pussy looks over toward the camera and nods her head.

PW:  Well, how about we get started here?  I’m here with Heavyweight Champion, “The Italian Stallion” Giani Di Luca who is ready to team up with Emma Rose to take on Argento and Roxi Johnson.  First off, let me congratulate you on retaining your belt at My Bloody Valentine.

The mention of the even seem to spark a fire in Giani’s eyes, however, he forces a smile onto his face and nods in response, muttering a quiet “Thank you” to Pussy as he tries not to let his anger be seen by the cameras.

PW:[/.b]  Now, this is the second year that you have entered this tournament.  Is there any reason you decided to enter with the… incident… that took place last year?

Giani thinks on it for a moment, trying his best to come up with a diplomatic answer to the question.  As Giani isn’t very diplomatic, this proves difficult for the Champ.  He licks at his lips, trying to stop the words from coming out, but there is no stopping them.

Giani:  Oh, you mean when I walked out on my partner and then the next week when she came out and went off on me for it, I damn near Jersey Turnpike’d her?

PW:  Yeah, that’s the incident I was talking about…

Giani:  Oh, okay.  I wasn’t sure… See, that’s exactly why I entered again this year.  I am the Heavyweight Champion.  So, what do I got to gain from winnin’ this thing?  I get to right the wrong I did last year when I damn near killed Faith’s career single-handedly.  Honestly, I look back at that situation and I’m embarrassed.

Giani takes a deep breath, trying to stifle the passion in his voice, but he fails miserably in doing so.

Giani:  That was embarrassing… Like, seriously SE-RI-OUS-LY embarrasin’… Not only did I abandon my tag team partner, but I left a woman in the ring when she needed my help the most.  I waved her over to tag me in, and then I stepped off the apron and watched as she got her ass beat, and pinned in the middle of that ring.  I showed that I ain’t to be trusted.  So, the big question should be “Why should Emma Rose trust me?”

PW:  That is a good question… What has changed since last year that makes you more trustworthy?

Giani:  Everything!

Giani laughs as he looks around him.  He pauses as he seems to soak in every detail for a moment.  He takes in a deep breath of relief as he looks right at Spike Staggs.

Giani:  Literally, everythin’ has changed in the last year.  I was a miserable douchebag last year.  I didn’t have what it took to climb the ladder here in Sin City.  I came from an organization where not havin’ a mental disability of some sort made me unique.  I was a draw there and quite possibly got by on my good looks.  Then I… I come to SCW thinkin’ I was tough shit, and I got a reality check that I was not ready for.

Giani continues to stare at Spike as if he were the camera.  He takes a deep breath and then tries to break his stare, but he is unable to.

Giani:  I was not used to bein’ in someone’s shadow.  On the Fuhgeddaboudit TV show, I was the star.  When I left, it was not renewed.  When I was in BACW, I was a rookie.  I was the fastest risin’ star that place ever had.  Sky was the limit there, and no one stood in my way.  When I came here, I had some damn big shoes to fill with that guy right over there…

The camera seems to follow Giani’s line of sight to look at Spike who almost seems caught off guard by the attention.  He flashes a polite smile before the camera comes back to rest on Giani and Pussy standing in front of the training ring.

Giani:  I was insecure, and I couldn’t take not bein’ the main attraction.  I shit on my friends.  I listened to some old windbag tell me that I deserved to be a star, risin’ to the top instead of standin’ behind Spike.  I bought it cause it was always true before.  But it wasn’t then, and I couldn’t handle that truth.  It wrecked me, and I destroyed everythin’ I cared about because he was the good guy.  He was, and still is, the longest reigning SCW Heavyweight Champion, so how could I step up to him?  I had to become an asshole, and I did it very well.  Faith was just a casualty in that.  I’ve made amends with her about it, but I haven’t made amends with myself for betrayin’ everythin’ I believe in.

PW:  So that is why you have gone out of your way redeem yourself lately?

Giani simply nods his head as if he had just shared the biggest secret with her and her alone.  He slows his nod before turning away from Spike and back to Pussy.

Giani:  Bingo.  I still ain’t done.  I played a very convincin’ asshole, so there’s a lot to make up for.  So, to answer ya question, that’s the reason I entered this tournament.  I want to prove that I’m a changed man.  I can be trusted, and I should be feared for that alone.  I got a lot to prove, and if Emma can trust me, then everythin’ people have been sayin’ the last few days won’t just be a rumor.  It will be reality.

PW:  You guys definitely seem to be a very promising team.  We expect big things from this combination.  Now, it is no secret that Emma Rose and Ben Jordan are an item…

Giani:  Oh yeah?  I had no freakin’ idea…. Hahaha

PW:  You didn’t?  It’s all over Twitter, and she accompanies him to the ring and…

Giani holds up a hand to stop Pussy as she blushes, realizing he was joking.  He shakes his head as he points a thumb at her, mouthing something to the camera.

PW: Well… You and Ben Jordan don’t exactly have the best history with one another.  Do you think that will play a role in your chances in this tournament?

Giani:  Nah… Now, don’t get me wrong… Emma Rose is hawwwwt… but so is my girlfriend.  Yeah, I know I’m trainin’ and doin’ an interview on Valentine’s Day, but I do have one.  Now, me and Ben ain’t always seen eye to eye.  He all but called me a viper who was gonna tear NXT apart… oh wait, he even said that… but I think somewhere deep down, he knows I’m a different guy than I was before.  Shit, I could learn a thing or two from the Cockney King… All three of us could maybe train sometime?  Be like new best friends since his other one stabbed him in the back?

Giani stops himself after hearing Spike clear his throat behind him.  His cocky smirk disappears as he looks back to Pussy.

Giani:  Okay, okay… on a serious note, I got nothin’ but mad respect for Ben Jordan and Emma Rose.  I want nothin’ more than to win this thing, not just for me, but for Emma too.  It could be the thing that sky rockets her to the top of the Bombshell Division where she belongs.  So, Team OhEmGi is the team to look out for, cause I’m motivated, and clearly she is too…

PW:  A truly golden team… But, you have got your work cut out for you this round as you take on Former Roulette Champion, Argento, and Former Bombshell Champion, Roxi Johnson.  What are your thoughts on your opponents?

Giani:  Honestly, I ain’t gonna sweat it.  Me and Argento have met up in the ring before.  We both debuted around the same time if I remember right, and we both was “The Italian Stallion”.  I got a little territorial about the name, and I kicked his ass to claim it here in SCW.  Not to say that I don’t think he is one to look out for.  I mean, he was the Roulette Champion while I had no claim to a belt.  Plus, he’s datin’ a vampire, so he’s obviously used to rough play.  Maybe even got a bit of a V boost goin’ into this match?  That’s right, True Blood reference, whatcha gonna do about it??

Giani jests lightly as he looks into the camera, taunting anyone to come at him before winking and curling the corner of his lip into a smile.  He turns back to Pussy, turning back to a serious tone.

Giani:  No, seriously… Got respect for my fellow Italian brotha… We’re unpredictable in the ring, and I take every match seriously.  This one is no different.  I’m gonna bring everything I got.  The only way Argento is gonna get past me is if he steps up his game and brings it too.

PW:  And what about Roxi Johnson?

Giani:  Honestly, I seen what she can do in the ring, and I’m pretty confident Emma can handle Roxi.  The rules state that it’s Men Vs Men and Women Vs Women, so I don’t gotta worry about her, Emma does.  Emma brings heart and a whole lotta ass kickin’ to every match she’s in, so I got faith that she’s gonna handle hers while I handle mine.  Get ready to see us in Round 2 of this tournament.  Or, ya know… just go ahead and hand us the crowns now.  If this tournament was based on heart, we would already be the royals.  Yo, we got you Mae Young and Lou Thesz!

Giani tightens his muscles a bit as he poses for the camera.  Even through his baggy clothing, his physique is well represented from his broad shoulders to his pecs.  Pussy giggles at Giani’s intensity.

PW:  Well, it seems that you have full confidence in this tournament as you do in your title matches.  I expect you to keep good on your promise and we’ll see you in two weeks for Round 2?

Giani:  Put ya money on this stallion, then ride it to the bank, baby!  Hahaha Fuhgeddaboudit!  Roxi, Argento… make us look good when we win.  Ya know, put up a good fight and make sure we don’t look like we pushed over some lames to get to the next round, yaknowhatimsayin’?  Bring ya A game lady and gent… Cause hash tag Team OhEmGi will be…  Deuces…

Giani holds up two fingers before turning and walking out of the camera shot.  Pussy blinks for a moment before taking in a deep breath.

PW:  Well you heard it… Giani Di Luca is extra confident in Team OhEmGi’s chances this week against Team… Argento and Roxi!  Tune in to Climax Control for this major Main Event!  This is Pussy Willow, signing off!

With that, Pussy rests her hands down in front of her as she smiles big for the camera as it fades out.

{I got my speakers on, speakers on, speakers on… I got my speakers on WRECKED!}


{fin}

 ”It’s like a drug that I don’t think I can recover from on my own…  The high I get from it is wayyy too intense.  As soon as I got my hands on it, all of the pain, all of the lost blood, all of the exhaustion… it just left my body for a lil minute, yaknowhatimsayin’?  I feel invincible right now.  There is no stopping “The Italian Stallion” right now…  But how long is that gonna last?  I hear they got some serious plans for good ole Giani Di Luca before the year ends.  There’s this Battle Royal for the right to face me, on my birthday no less, for the title that I fought so hard to win.  But, it’s cool, it’s cool… I understand that bein’ a champion mean havin’ to defend ya title.  Hell, I almost want to jump into this battle royal myself to prove that I ain’t broken.  I ain’t nowhere near finished with this belt, neither.  I’m at the top, and I’m sittin’ pretty.  So bring it on, Sin City.  Prove to me that ya belong in the same league as the “Italian Stallion”  Give it ya best shot, and then I’ll go on to prove that it was no fluke that I won this damned thing.  2014 is the year of the Stallion according to Chinese Astrology.  Whoever is lucky enough to win this thing better hope that the Chinese don’t know what they’re talkin’ about…”

Immediately After December 2 Dismember II

{Beautiful Pain}

The lights shine in Giani’s eyes as he hoists the Sin City Wrestling Heavyweight Championship high in the air.  “Wrecked” is playing in the background.  The words are still echoing in his ears, hearing Goth say “I… I quit…” almost felt unreal to him, but no more than holding the Heavyweight belt in his hands.  Feeling the cold leather and gold between his fingers is the only thing that makes him realize that this is really happening.  He could hear his biggest fan, a child no more than ten years of age, crying out to him.

Boy:  WAY TO GO GIANI!  I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!!!

Through the almost blinding crimson mask he is wearing, feeling it start to cake on his face, he can see the boys face filled with tears of terror from the horrific match he had just taken part in.  But a new stream is forming on his face because of the joy and relief he feels as he watches his idol hold the belt up high.  Luckily for him, the blood hides the emotional tear he feels himself at the sight.  Giani walks over to the right side of the ramp, motioning for the boy to come over the railing.  The medical team files through the curtains and down the ramp, trying to talk Giani into retreating to the back, but he shoves them off of him.  He continues to wave the boy through the crowd.  His parents nod their heads as the crowd parts way.  Security tries to stop Giani, but he is on a mission, muttering under his breath at the guy.  The boy makes it to the barricade and Giani uses what little strength he has left to lift the kid up and over.  The kid is almost in shock as he jumps up and down, tugging at Giani’s free arm.

Boy:  I can’t believe you have the title, Giani!

Giani is still winded, looking down at the boy, he is starting to feel the brutality of the match catching up with him.  After struggling for a few deep breaths, Giani nods his head, trying to muster up the strength to speak.  His voice is hoarse and crackling as he speaks.

Giani:  Yeah… you and me both, kid…

Giani places the title on the boy’s shoulder, lifting him up as the fans cheer him on.  The emotion in the Newark Pavilion is at an all-time high as the “NXT” and “Giani” chants ring around him, almost drowning out the music.  Cameras flash at Giani, showing off the support that he has gained in just one month’s time.  He turns slightly to allow everyone to get a picture of this moment.  He sets the boy down and looks to the security guard as the medical team continues shouting at him all at once.  He can barely hear them, but he makes sure to get his point across to the security guard.

Giani:  Get the kid and his family backstage passes.

Security Guard:  Are you sure that’s wise?  You need to rest, and you don’t really know them.

Giani:  I didn’t fuckin’ stutter, bro…  Get ‘em backstage.  I am these people’s champion.  If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have this belt!

Giani all but shoves the belt in the security guard’s face.  He holds his hands up in surrender and walks off, getting on a walkie talkie.  It isn’t long before Erik Staggs comes out amongst the medical team, practically shouting in his ear.

Erik:  MR. DI LUCA!  YOU NEED MEDICAL TREATMENT!  I MUST INSIST YOU ABIDE BY THE WISHES OF THE MEDICAL TEAM!

Giani turns around, presumably with a look of disdain as he bumps into Erik Staggs’ shoulder.  He glares at Staggs for a moment before stumbling up the ramp, feeling the aftershock of the match more than ever.  Giani gets to the curtains, turning once more to hold the belt up high in the air for the fans, eliciting one last cheer from them.  The medical team practically shoves him back through the curtains.  He doesn’t have much more in him right now to protest it, so he follows along with them.  As soon as he gets behind the second set of curtains, he is greeted by a massive hug from Jessie Salco.  Vixen is clapping like mad before Mickey gives him a harsh pat on the back.

Mickey:  Oi! That’s how it’s done, Itie!

Misty gives him a gentle pat on the back, possibly the most sympathetic of the pain that is starting to surge through his entire body.  Giani puts on a brave face as Spike grabs onto his hand, firmly shaking it.  Spike’s face is filled with pride and utter excitement, as if he had won the belt himself.

Spike:  Congratulations on the biggest win of your career.  How does it feel?

Giani:  Honestly, it feels like my entire body is gonna fall to pieces, bro… but not until my skull cracks in half.  Hahahaha.

Giani does his infamously obnoxious laugh as the medical team continues to rush him along, more or less carrying him at this point.  Giani finally surrenders to the pain and the exhaustion, scooting along as quickly as he can.  Spike leans in to give Vixen a peck on the cheek, muttering something to her before jogging to catch up with the team.  He hooks one of Giani’s arms around his neck to support him.

Spike:  Dude, you have no idea how hard it was to stay out of that match.  I have been in some brutal matches before, but you two nearly killed each other.

Spike gives a gentle nod to the blood smeared across the walls on either side of them.  Giani acknowledges them almost as if he is proud of it as maintenance is seen scrubbing the walls down with heavy duty chemicals.

Giani:  Thanks for that… The last thing I needed was that jackass sayin’ I won cause my buddies got involved.

They walk past the collapsed catering table that was crushed by Giani’s own weight just about a half an hour prior.  His blood covered lips curl into a smile as he almost chuckles at it.  Giani pants as they get closer to the door marked with a temporary placard that reads “Zoey Carpenter – Head Nurse”.  The medical team pushes the door open as they quickly guide Giani over to a medical bed covered in paper.  Giani lies down, looking up at the ceiling.  He sees Spike checking in at him, but his face is eclipsed by the shadow from the light.  Giani takes in as deep of a breath as he can, trying to relax as everything hits him like a freight train.  Spike moves to sit in a chair near the bed.  Giani focuses in on the florescent light above him, starting to fade out into a daydream of sorts.  Spike sighs in a mixture of uncertainty and relief, knowing exactly where Giani sits.  He finds a clean towel and begins gently wiping at Giani’s face.

Zoey:  Quite the masochist, aren’t we Mr. Di Luca?

Giani sighs as Spike gives momentary pause to cleaning Giani’s face up.  He gives Zoey a smirk before turning back to the light, remaining silent.  Zoey clears her throat as she opens up her supply cabinet.  She brings out some wrapping and medical tape, setting it on a rolling tray by the bed.  She flicks out the tiny flashlight, clicking it as she runs it from Giani’s left to his right.  She watches for his reaction as he instinctively follows it.  She places the stethoscope to his chest, moving it around a bit after a moment.  She brings it down to his stomach, giving his body a quick once over.

Zoey:  I don’t think you have a concussion.  Everything sounds normal, but I would advise a trip to the Emergency Room, if for nothing else, to stitch your forehead and bridge.  Is there any pain in your neck?

Giani:  I think there’s a little pain in every bone in my body, lady.  So yeah, there’s pain in my…

*BLAGHHHHHH*

Giani leans over and wretches his guts on the floor.  Spike quickly moves his feet out of the way as Giani eventually stops.  He stays on his side for a minute to make sure he’s finished as Zoey gives him a look of relief mixed with a look of concern.

Zoey:  I would put money on you having whiplash, Mr. Di Luca.  I’m going to get your head taped up, and clean up the nicks a bit, and then I want you to go straight to the hospital, okay?

Giani nods his head, remaining silent, through his embarrassed expression.  He rolls over onto his back, mesmerized by the light once more as he wipes at his mouth.  The light seems to make the pain fade ever so slightly as he takes in short breaths through his nose.  Zoey steps around the vomit on the floor carefully, trying not to further embarrass Giani.  She looks to Spike as she unwinds the medical tape slightly.

Zoey:  Please, make sure he gets to the hospital immediately.  What he’s feeling right now is nothing compared to how he will feel in the coming hours.

Spike:  I have been through matches nearly as brutal on multiple occasions… I will drive him there myself…

Zoey nods her head as she places a piece of gauze over the cut on his forehead.  She then pulls the tape over Giani’s forehead.  She presses it firmly on Giani’s forehead, causing him to wince in pain.  He lifts his head up as she begins to place a wrap around Giani’s head.  She pulls it tightly to apply the proper amount of pressure as Giani chooses to stay focused on the light.

Zoey:  Get him there quickly, and don’t be surprised if you have to get your car detailed afterward, because the nausea will only grow worse as the pain increases.

Spike:  I have two kids, and a brother who is almost like a third kid, so it wouldn’t be the first time someone yacked in my car…

Sensing that he is almost finished here, Giani slowly sits up.  His bones crack and he groans with the movements, but tries to retain his tough guy creds he earned tonight by minimizing the groans.  Zoey hands Giani a cup with over the counter pain reducers and another one with water.  Giani takes them down quickly before crumpling them up and tossing them in the nearby trashcan.  He can’t help but think to himself that he wished he had seen that five minutes ago.  Giani gets down from the bed, careful not to step in his lunch leftovers.  Spike stands up from his chair as Zoey leans in to whisper to Spike.  Giani picks his title belt up from the floor nearest to the door, opening it to hear a round of cheers from his fellow Stars, as well as a few Bombshells, welcoming him out.  He raises his arms in the air victoriously as he comes out, slowly nodding his head as everyone pats him on the back.  He comes to the end of the line, joining his New X-Tremes team mates.  He turns around to say a few words to them as Spike comes after him cautiously.  He shouts out a whisper, a strained yet urgent tone in his voice.

Spike:  Giani!  Hey, I wouldn’t…

Spike watches as Giani raises the belt in the air, looking around at all of the support.  Giani feels each and every person, and it is almost overwhelming.  He tries to think of the right words, and he seems to have found them right as Spike comes up to him, trying to rush him off.

*BLAGHHHHHH*

Giani hurls all over Spike’s shirt.  Spike looks stunned and disgusted all at once as he holds his arms up, dripping and astonished as a gasp of shock comes over the crowd.  A few people who got some of the back spray grunt and rush off, while others with weaker stomachs begin mimicking Giani’s actions.  As Spike blinks his eyes, he soon comes back to reality and he roughly shoves Giani forward.  We focus in on Spike’s face as he clinches his jaw, heading toward the parking lot as quickly as he can.


{{Four Hours Later}}


We come to the inside of BHC Fremont Hospital in Newark to find Giani wrapped up, still in his wrestling gear.  He has a handful of prescriptions in one hand, and his SCW Heavyweight Championship dangling from the other.  At his side is Spike Staggs and Vixen. Spike looks much cleaner as he is wearing a white “Italian Stallion” T-Shirt he retrieved from Giani’s bag after the retching incident.  He carries Giani’s duffel bag as they walk through the bright white hallways silently.  Giani looks out of the windows as they walk up a sloped, wheelchair accessible ramped hallway.  He watched the ambulance lights rotating rapidly as the faint sound of the sirens come in through the thick glass. He sighs as they turn the corner, feeling like this trek toward the exit was never ending.

Giani:  Why did I hafta go to the cafeteria?  This hospital is borin’ the fuck outta me.  I got an after party arranged at…

Spike:  … at your hotel room, by yourself?

Giani:  Are ya kiddin’ me, bro?  I gotta celebrate this win, dawg.  I celebrated the Tag Team Championships with James for like two days straight.

Spike and Vixen both turn to Giani as they come to a cross in the hallways.  Vixen shakes her head as if Giani had just said the most absurd thing ever uttered by man.  Her French Canadian accent rolls off the tip of her tongue like music.

Vixen:  You heard what the doctor said, Giani.  Bed rest for the next two days is what I heard, not a party.

Giani:  The fuck!  How do ya expect me not to go have a little fun?  I don’t care if I hafta be wheeled in on a hospital bed… I’m gonna celebrate.

Spike:  If you even attempt it, I’m going to make sure you have the shortest reign in SCW history, because I’m going to put you six feet under *air quotes* broski…

Giani pouts like a child who was just denied candy.  He crosses his arms over his chest as he slows down his pace.  He puffs out his bottom lip as he shifts his eyes over to the plain white walls as they get closer to the lobby.  Spike shakes his head, letting out a muffled laugh as he looks at Vixen.

Spike:  Unfortunately, I can’t say that he’s the most immature Heavyweight Champion SCW has ever seen.  I can think of about three who were worse…

Giani lets out a “Hmph” as if he were offended by the notion.  He pulls his zipped up white hooded “Italian Stallion” jacket closer to his body due to his lack of a shirt, but it is more about pouting than staying warm.  He rushes his pace to reach the door first, waiting for it to open up for him.  He storms through it to get several feet in front of Spike and Vixen.  He moves through the busy parking lot, dodging angry drivers as he weaves through the parked cars.  He comes to Spike’s crimson Mustang.  He tugs on the locked door, as if the more he tugged, the more likely it would be to open.  He stomps the ground as Spike comes up closer, laughing at Giani’s frustration.

Spike:  All of this over a party?  Seriously, Giani?  Are you like two years old or something?

Giani:  Fuck you!  Of course it ain’t about the party.  But that party was gonna be my distraction…

Spike reaches the car, pressing the remote on his key chain, opening the door up for Giani as if that will solve his temper tantrum.  Spike walks back to the trunk, popping it open as he sets Giani’s duffel bag inside.  He closes it, only to see Giani still standing there with the six year old stare of death.  Spike hands the keys over to Vixen as he walks over to Giani.

Spike:  Dude, what’s wrong?  What is so wrong with your life that you need to party to forget about it?  You’re the Sin City Wrestling… Heavyweight Champion!  That’s kind of a big deal for you, isn’t it?

Giani:  You act like you know what’s goin’ on in my personal life.  It’s girl problems that could be fixed at this party tonight.  Oh, and the fact that I nearly killed myself out there tonight, and someone decided that it would be a good idea to put up a Battle Royal to determine my first challenge.  It’s bullshit…

Spike:  Oh come on!  There’s no one on the active roster that you couldn’t take down, Giani.  Be the champion that SCW needs, a fighting champion that they can be proud of.

Giani rolls his eyes and winces as he tries to turn his head toward Spike.  He holds onto his neck brace and then turns his entire body toward Spike with a serious look on his face.

Giani:  Don’tcha think I know that?  I don’t care if they run a gauntlet on me, but they better make damned sure that every opponent deserves it!  This Battle Royal is open to anybody.  That pisses me off cause I didn’t get some Battle Royal for my shot at the title…

Spike:  Well…. back in May…

Giani:  Whatever, bro… I didn’t win that, so ya point is lost… My point is that I didn’t enter some Battle Royal to earn my shot at Goth.  I earned it by showin’ dedication.  I earned it by beatin’ a former Number One Contender AND TWO former Heavyweight Champions, scorin’ a pinfall over the second longest reignin’ champion in SCW history.

As if this were an ego stroke, Spike smirks with pride at the words “second longest reigning”.  He wipes the smile off of his face before looking back to Giani with a serious expression painted on his face.

Spike:  I get that, but who is to say that said second longest reigning champion won’t be in this tournament?  Or every single former champion in the company?

Giani:  Maybe, maybe not, but I earned my shot the old-fashioned way, with a pinfall victory.  I didn’t trip some kid up and throw him over the top ropes.  That’s lame, and we all learned how that worked out after the last time we saw that.  We got a weak Number One Contender…

Spike: … who won the title too?

Giani:  Hahahaha!  Yeah, and he was one of the weakest champions SCW had.  Weak win, weak champion.  I had one of the strongest wins, and I got the strongest will, so I know I can beat whoever they throw at me, even at my weakest.  My point is that whoever wins this thing will more than likely not deserve it.  Like I said, I showed dedication to this company.

Spike chuckles, ready to raise his hand up to interrupt Giani, but Giani is already a step ahead of him.  He holds Spike’s hand down and takes a step closer with his eyes widened to emphasize his point.

Giani:  EVEN WHEN I sided with ya uncle in the rebellion… it was still about loyalty to SCW, wantin’ to see it get better.  Most of those who actually give a fuck about this company, and who worked to help build it to what it is now, are all gone, or they don’t care anymore.  We’ll probably get some ACW reject comin’ out on top in that thing, and I’ll be damned if I lose to one of those Canucks…

Just then, Giani is startled by Spike’s horn blaring.  He jumps off of the car, turning as Spike nearly doubles over laughing.  Vixen’s silhouette can be seen looking at Giani as a string of French expletives muffled by the engine are heard.  Giani gives a quick apologetic wave to Vixen before turning back to Spike.

Giani:  Ya get what I’m sayin’ don’t ya?  I think ya uncle’s got a hard-on for seein’ me fail since he couldn’t lead me to the top.  I bet this was his idea.  It seems like a sneaky bastard thing to do.

Spike:  Hey, hey, hey… How about this?  What if you think of the positives here?  Best case scenario for this Battle Royal, someone who deserves the shot will get it, and they will put you to the test as the champion.  Worst case scenario, you get an easy opponent with an easy win and do something that no other champion since Jordan Williams has been able to do… and you hang onto that title for more than a month

Spike does a fake gasp to elicit a slight giggle from Giani.  He rolls his eyes with a faint nod of his head, so not to aggravate his neck any more than it already is.  He lets out a sigh as Spike pats him on the back in encouragement.

Giani:  Yeah, okay, but I don’t wanna be known as the champion who had it easy.  Despite what some champions think, it ain’t about havin’ the title, it’s about what ya do while ya got it.  I want a challenge, and I get the feelin’ that some bitch is gonna win this thing since every other weak ass wants to recover from the show tonight…

Spike shrugs his shoulders as Vixen honks the horn once again.  She rolls down the window on the driver’s side, poking her head out as she turns to look back at the two men.

Vixen:  I don’t mean to interrupt your little talk, but could we do it back at the hotel so Giani can get the rest that the doctor ordered?

Giani takes in a deep breath before turning to walk around the car.  Spike gets in front of him, opening the door to pull the seat down.  He crawls in the back seat, pulling the front seat back for Giani.  Giani pauses, appreciating the gesture before he crawls inside of the car slowly.  He shuts the door, and less than a minute later, the car backs out of the parking spot and takes off.  The scene fades out on the blazing tail lights.


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/DixieTXT1_zps5756e5c1.png>

{Mouth 2 Mouth}

As the high from the events of the night start to wear off, Giani pops open a bottle of pills, pouring a few into the palm of his hands.  He tosses them back before picking up a bottle of Smart Water {“Hydrate Responsibly”}, the glistening condensation dripping down from his fingerprints as he lifts it to his mouth.  He sprays the water into his mouth through the opened sports cap, taking his time to get it down, before bringing the bottle back to his lips, gulping down half of the bottle with a sigh to end it off.  He closes the bottle cap and sets it (logo out) on the nightstand next to the king size bed.  He collapses back on the bed, crossing the width of bed.  He can hardly muster the energy to turn over to face the television as some late night dribble comes on the air.  He reaches down into his pants pocket to pull out his phone, seeing a text from his latest love interest.  He sighs, finding it a chore to even respond to the text.  He drops it down next to him as he runs his hands over his face gently, feeling the bandages that make him look like he were half mummy.  He lets out a groan as he closes his eyes.

”Damn it… Was this really worth it?  I coulda taken that painted up freak with one hand tied behind my back in a regular match, and I coulda been at that party instead of standin’ up this fine dime for a second time…”

Giani rocks himself over onto his side after only four tries.  He fumbles around with on the mattress until he comes back with the remote for the television.  The rather humble room, for what Giani normally affords for himself, is only lit by the television and a sliver of light escaping from the bathroom door only six feet from the large bed.  Giani flips through television shows in boredom as he waits for the pain pills to kick in when suddenly there is a knock on the door.  Giani looks a bit annoyed as he cups his hand around his mouth to amplify his voice.

Giani:  Spike, I told ya… I’m fine.  Go back to bangin’ Vixen, cause that’s the closest to action I’m gonna get tonight…

Giani lets out a weak chuckle as he rests his hand on the large arm that he uses to control the television.  A few seconds go by before there is another knock on the door.  This time, Giani grunts as he struggles to get up, fighting through the pain to give the person on the other side of the door a piece of his mind.  He gets up as another knock is heard.

Giani:  I’M COMIN’ DAWG!  Damn…

Giani shakes his head as he mumbles under his breath.  He slowly walks over to the door, rubbing his temples before reaching for the handle to fling it open.

Giani:  WHAT?!

His expression changes completely as a hand reaches from the other side of the door, slapping his across the face.  The porcelain skin and neatly manicured, crimson red nails seem to remind us one a certain “Queen”, possibly of the Damned variety?  No sooner than Giani clutches his face, groaning in the agony that is caused from the slap, an innocent gasp is heard from the person outside.  She reaches in with both hands to gently caress Giani’s face, walking into the room.  Her long blonde hair cascades down her back, teased at the ends so that they are like golden feathers, her lips a bubble gum pink, and her eyes eerily reminiscent of Misty’s icy eyes, as the assailant reveals herself to be Dixie, the youngest sister of Misty.  She groans apologetically as she looks up into his pained, almost puppy-like eyes.

Dixie:  Awwww!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m so, sooo sorry, Giani…  I didn’t know.

Giani grabs onto her wrists gently, lowering them from his face as a half smile comes over his face.  He just stares at her for a moment in silence until she opens her mouth to apologize once more.  This is when he lets out a long “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” at her, finding solace in her mere presence.

Giani:  It’s okay.  If that was the worst thing to happen to me today, I would be doin’ pretty damn good, huh?

Dixie:  I really am sorry.  I didn’t know.  I didn’t watch the show tonight after Misty’s match.  I was really… REALLY mad at you for standing me up, and barely agreed to go to this party, and then you stood me up again, and Misty said…

Giani places a finger to her lips, quieting her down.  The compassion slowly drains from her face as she breaks the mutual stare.  She refuses to let him get away with what he’d done just one week prior.

Dixie:  Look, don’t shush me, okay?  You don’t get to do that to me.  You don’t get to act like everything is suddenly okay just because you are hurt.

Giani:  You came here tonight, so there must be a reason.

Dixie:  Yeah, I came to slap the taste out of your mouth for standing me up twice, and to tell you that I’m not some dumb bimbo who is going to sleep with you because you’re a Reality TV star, or a Heavyweight Champion.  I might not be glamorous, or skanky, but I deserve respect.  What you did was shitty, Giani Di Luca, and I’m not going to put up with that kind of treatment.  So, if that’s what you are after, then I suggest you tell me now so neither of us wastes our time.

Giani sighs as he turns around toward the chairs next to the bed.  Dixie gets a sour look on her face with Giani’s back toward her until he turns around again to allow her to lead the way.  She rolls her eyes before walking to the nearest chair that is next to a table with a small coffee pot in the middle.  She rests an elbow on the table as Giani slowly lowers himself into the chair opposite of her.

Giani:  If I was tryin’ to put down some game on ya, I wouldn’t invite ya to the after party.  If I was still the same douchebag I used to be, I woulda just assumed you would be there, but I made sure to let ya know that I wanted ya there.  Do you know how hard it was for me to miss out on my own party like that, knowin’ you was gonna be there?  THAT was the worst part of my entire night, if I’m bein’ honest here.

Dixie:  I want to believe you, Giani.  I’m not just some naïve Midwest girl, though.  I don’t think that it was right of you to blow me off, and then for you to feed me some lame excuse about how you needed to track down someone to apologize to, only to turn around and take her on a date?  My sister filled me in on what kind of guy you are, and…

Giani:  WAS!  What kind of guy I was…  That was a long time ago, and if she really told ya the story, then ya would know that I was crazy about her then, but those feelin’s was never returned.  It’s cool though, I’m over it now and I’m well past ready to move on.  My point is that I only ever was serious with one girl, and I tried with another.  I’m ready to go after somethin’ real now, and I get the feelin’ that this could be what I’m lookin’ for.  I just need the chance to prove it, but things keep fuckin’ it up.

Dixie stares at him with eyes that are even icier than Misty’s.  She is surgically picking him apart, looking for the slightest hint of a lie, but she can’t seem to find it.  After all of the scrutiny, Dixie finally softens her expression, the warmth that Giani fell for in the first place returns to her eyes as she looks right into his.

Dixie:  Okay…

Giani:  What?

Dixie:  I said… okay?  Let’s see where things go, maybe?  I don’t know, you are way more of a cheese ball than the guys I would normally date, but something… in those eyes… just says I should give this a shot.

She smiles as her cheeks slowly turn red.  She lowers her head, but looks up at Giani as she giggles nervously.  Giani lets out a muffled sigh of relief in the form of a small laugh as he reaches over to grab onto her hand.  He cups both of his hands around hers as he pulls it to the center of the table.

Giani:  Yeah… ya definitely should, cause I’m pretty awesome.  Not to pat myself on the back or anythin’, yaknowhatimsayin’?

Dixie practically snorts at Giani’s “modesty”, shaking her head and laughing along with him.  After a moment of googly eyes and kindergarten giggling, Dixie sighs and looks over to Giani’s bed with a stern look.

Dixie:  You need to go lay down, mister,  and rest yourself up.  You need some healing…

Giani gets a mile wide grin as he raises his eyebrows.  Though he is in pain, he refuses to turn down an opportunity to “rise to the occasion”.  He gauges her reaction for a moment before speaking again.

Giani:  Sexual healing?  Huh, huh?

Dixie: Uhhh… no, do I look like that kind of girl?  We haven’t even been on one date, so the answer is no.

Giani:  Well, if intentions count, this would be our third date…

Giani flashes a hopeful smile toward Dixie who only folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently.  She even goes as far as to offer him a growl as he continues on until she can’t take it anymore.

Dixie:  If intentions count, then I would be a trillionaire world class model travelling Europe and Asia.  But, intentions mean very little.  Actions do, and guess what?  You’re not getting any action tonight bucko, so give it up.

Dixie flashes a playful, yet still very serious grin at Giani who sarcastically pouts and moans as he gets up and collapses on the bed.  This causes Dixie to laugh loudly, shaking her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose.  She sings her hair from off of her left shoulder as a sultry look crosses her face.  She slowly walks over to the bed, biting her bottom lip before she crawls onto the bed next to Giani, gently running her nails up his back, causing him to shiver as her fingers reach his shoulders.  She gently massages then, eliciting moans of pure pleasure from Giani.  She favors them for a moment and then works down to his back, kneading it with an elbow for a moment before going back to her hands, working them in deeply.

Giani:  Ohhhhhhhhh…. Ya got some magic hands there

Dixie:  One of the perks of dating a Massage Therapist.  Seems like a match made in heaven, huh?

Giani:  Yeah… see, the only problem is that I’m formin’ a kink up front that might need to be worked out if ya keep it up... hahahaha-ow!

Dixie slaps Giani with a playfully angry expression on her face.  She leans up, ceasing this immediately as she grunts.  She leans off of the edge of the bed, walking over to a small love seat against the far wall, sitting down with a small fleece blanket, throwing it over herself.

Dixie:  Bad boys get no treats, so I won’t “treat” you with my presence, or my “magic hands” tonight.  But I will hang around in case you need help with anything tonight.

Giani:  I think I could…

Dixie:  Hold it right there...  Think before you speak in the presence of a true lady.

Giani:  I was just going to say that I think I could manage to scoot over so ya don’t gotta sleep on that lumpy couch when there’s a king size bed over here.

Giani strains to move over toward the door, allowing her ample space to sleep, turning his back toward her so to allow her the respect that she deserves.  She stares at the seemingly endless mounds of satin comforters and sheets and space.  Try as hard as she might, she can’t hold out for too much longer before she crawls over to the bed, giving Giani the same treatment, turning her back toward him, hugging her jacket close to her body.  Giani peeks over his shoulder just enough to gently cover her in the blanket.  This puts a small smirk on her face.  She gives it a minute before she leans over, doing the same, but making sure to tuck him in so that there is no funny business from him.  However, as soon as she hunches over him, he is sleeping like a rock.  This is impressive to her as she just stares for a moment, smiling.  Eventually she rolls over, tucking herself in as the scene fades out.


{No Sleep Til… *{Jersey}*}

”Tonight was… yeah… I don’t even know what to say about Climax Control this week.  It was a clusterfuck from front to back, start to finish.  After Amanda Hugginkiss finished her performance, I hit the stage to let everyone know that the champ was here and in full force.  I had my fun, I made my point, and got the crowd ready for a night of family friendly fun… Boy was I wrong, dawg…”

This flight from Newark, California to Newark, New Jersey had just made it’s full ascension as most people are making themselves comfortable.  The steward makes his rounds with his beverage cart, politely smiling as he checks in with each passenger.  He makes it about half way down the aisle when he comes to Giani, looking out across the seemingly endless night, deep in thought.  Sitting next to him is Dixie, though she is fast asleep, leaning on Giani’s shoulder.  The steward gently clears his throat so not to disturb Dixie, but loud enough to get Giani’s attention.  He peels his eyes from the window, snapping out of his daydream.

Steward:  Pardon me sir, would you care for any refreshments?

Giani:  Um, yeah… could I get a glass of orange juice?

The steward nods his head, pulling out a plastic cup and a small carafe, pouring the juice into the cup before gently handing it to Giani.  Giani whispers a “thank you” as the steward gives a wink of confirmation, moving his cart along.  Giani takes a sip from the cup, setting it on the tray in front of him before looking back out into the night sky.

”I wanted to kick things off on a positive note for those kids, cause I was one of them.  Growin’ up, I was poor, and had many years where the only presents I got was from Toys for Tots and church donation.  Thinkin’ back, I probably shoulda gone to Mass more often, but yeah… The crowd seemed really responsive to my heartfelt speech.  Then we go out to do some promo work to draw more interest for the event, and that freakin’ douchebag Nick Jones had to come out with that stuck up bitch Diana and ruin everything.  Spike put him down, but he had to come back for some more, so me and Mickey had to put him down, and he still came back, so we had to literally lay the smack down on his ass.  How much do ya wanna bet people say some shit about how I was showin’ my true colors?  That my quest for redemption is all a lie?  It ain’t my fault I can’t allow myself to be somebody’s punk bitch…”

Giani feels Dixie stirring a little, her golden locks trickling down his shoulders.  He glances at her angelic face, and the rage that is starting to build within him starts to fade.  He takes a deep breath as he brushes a few strands of her hair out of her face, rolling it around between his fingers as a half smirk comes over his face.  He leans down and kisses her forehead gently before turning his head back to the window, the moon reflecting in his eyes.

”Then Ben Jordan, the man who denounced the New X-Tremes on Twitter for the world to see, kinda got the raw end of the deal.  Sure, I don’t care much for the guy, and the only reason I didn’t start some shit there was cause Spike asked me not to, and I respect that.  As much as I think he’s a smug bastard, he didn’t deserve what came to him, though.  I gotta kinda laugh at the fact that he called me and Misty vipers, but the one who bites first is his own homeboy, the kid that he grew up with.  Other than laughin’ at the irony of it all, I gotta say that I got nothin’ more for Mickey, and I hope that Spike kicks him to the curb.  Kinda seems like the pot callin’ the kettle black though, so I guess I will keep my opinions on that inside my head where they belong.  How can I expect to be taken seriously when I can’t even forgive Mickey for knocking out a guy I don’t really care much for to begin with?  It still sucks.  I know how hard Spike is fighting to try to bring NXT together, and that he really wanted Ben to come back with us.”

Giani takes a deep breath and leans his head against the chilly window, nursing his slight headache from earlier in the night, cooling off the new knot he’s got forming.  He sighs it out, fogging up his window in the process.

”Then, I went out to try to save the night, seeing who even gives a fuck about the charity event, and it turns out that not too many people could find the time to show up.  I watched as five people threw their hats into the ring.  Five people, seriously?  With an opportunity to not only face “The Italian Stallion”, but to go after the Heavyweight Championship, there was only five people that thought they stood a chance?  Probably woulda been six if NXT didn’t hafta put Nick Jones back in his place, but still… Anyway, I got to joke around a bit with Jason and Belinda while gettin’ the chance to watch my potential challengers put it all out there.  I got my opinions of Ben Jordan, but he put up a good fight.  And I definitely got a few things to say for that cocky prick Damien Kingston, but he played the game and he won.  He even had the nuts to tell me he was gonna beat me for the title next week.  Gotta appreciate the guts, but I had a few things I was gonna tell him straight to his face… that was until…”

Steward:  Excuse me, sir.  May I take that cup?

The steward comes back around to collect Giani’s empty cup.  Giani loses his train of thought as he reaches for the cup.  He slowly brings it around Dixie so not to wake her up.  He whispers another polite thank you to the steward as he tosses it into the trash compartment on his cart, wheeling it off to the next row as Giani disappears back into his thoughts and daydreams.

**************************************************

The sound of the audience booing loudly as “Killing in the Name Of” by Rage Against the Machine fills Giani’s ears as he comes back around.  His eyelids flutter open as he groans and rolls over onto his forearms.  He looks around for Damien Kingston, or anybody, but all he sees is the medical team.

“Fuck this déjà vu shit…”

Giani pounds the mat in frustration as he slowly brings himself back to his feet.  He looks around once more, because he had a point to prove, and he would settle for either Damien, or any of the three men he felt beating him down to the mat.  The medical team comes into the ring, but Giani shakes his head furiously as he leans down to grab onto his title belt.  He quickly straps it around his waist, looking at the medical team as they begin to circle him..

Giani:  Nuh uh, dawg!  Not this time, I’m fine…

He pushes past the medical team who deems him well enough judging by his boisterous and determined stride as he gets to the ropes.  Giani leans over the top rope, resting one hand on the apron as he flips himself out of the ring, very uncharacteristically.  He storms up the ramp as the fans shout at him in support.  He slaps a few hands, though his attention rests firmly on the curtains.  As soon as he bursts through them, he comes almost face to face with Spike, Jessie, Vixen, and Misty.  He shakes his head, pushing past them, causing the ladies to look offended.  Spike grabs onto Giani’s arm to gain his attention, but Giani simply shakes it off, a sadistic grin coming over his face as he goes on the hunt.

Giani: Yo, thanks for havin’ my back out there… I guess the same way ya had Ben’s?

Spike:  Come on, Giani, that’s bullshit and you KNOW IT!  How was I supposed to know that those guys were stupid enough to attack you/?  And how was I supposed to know that Mickey would go rogue and attack Ben?

Giani continues to walk off, but Spike doesn’t allow him the opportunity.  Spike follows after him closely, which says a lot the way Giani is flying down the halls.  It would almost appear like he is running, but he is doing it so fluidly that it seems nothing more than a fast paced strut.

Spike:  Giani?  Giani!  Wait up, man!  You can’t pull this shit after everyone has shown you the kindness of forgiving you.  We will pay better attention from here on out, but you need to hear us out, brother…

Giani stops in the middle of the hallway and spins on the balls of his heels, almost causing Spike to crash right into him.  Giani throws his hands up in the air in frustration before bringing them down to a crashing halt at his side.

Giani:  Look, it ain’t even about that, dawg.  Seriously, I’m just pissed off right now cause some two bit, no talent cowards hidin’ behind cloaks and darkness came after me and embarrassed me in front of the fans and the locker room.  They took advantage of me when I was weak, and now I look like a bitch right after I won the top title of the company.  And to top it off, I didn’t even get the chance to get inside of Damien’s head.

Giani pounds his fist into the wall angrily, causing Spike to back up a couple steps.  Giani keeps his fist against the wall for a moment, letting it slide down as the anger only seems to pool up deeper in his eyes.  He breathes heavily through his nostrils, flaring them out as he looks into Spike’s eyes.

Giani:  I ain’t gonna be one of those fifteen minute champions, Spike.  I ain’t gonna just let some dudes come in here and punk me out without repercussions, and I ain’t gonna let Damien Kingston taunt me like that.  I put on what could be the Match of the Year for 2014’s awards, and I didn’t do it for nothin’.  I got the respect of the fans, so I’m good, but if I’m gonna lead this company as their champions, then the entire locker room better damn well respect me.  They ain’t gonna do that if I don’t do somethin’ about what happened out there tonight.  Capiche?

Spike clinches his jaw as he stares at Giani, his icy blue eyes searching for any sign of weakness within Giani.  However, his protégé’s convictions are iron clad.

Spike:  Capiche… But, under one condition… Do it when everyone is watching.  Don’t do it after the show is over and everyone is leaving to go home.  Make a statement with it.  Be relentless and show those pussies that they made a mistake messing with you.  And prove to Kingston that you are ten leagues above him and everyone else by beating him next week.  A statement is made bold not by the words that form it and not by the crowd who witnesses it… but by the combination of the two.

Spike nods his head as Giani just stares at him.  It is clear that Spike’s words had gotten through to him to a certain degree, but he is still on fire from the entirety of tonight’s show.  Giani turns around and walks off from Spike, shaking his head.  He continues down the hall until he reaches a door marked “Head of Talent Relations – Erik Staggs”.  Without knocking, Giani pushes the door open to find Erik sitting at his desk with his arms back as if he were expecting somebody.  However, when Giani enters, a look of shock spreads over his face.  He slowly hunches forward, pulling his suit jacket closed as he clears his throat.

Erik:  Oh, um… hello there Gi, ahhh… Mr. Di Luca.  How may I serve, er, assist you today?

Giani simply raises an eyebrow as he remains silent at the door.  He takes a quick scan around Erik’s office to see why he is acting so suspicious, but sees no signs of anything.  He shrugs his shoulders before walking over toward the desk.  He pulls out a chair and takes a seat as Erik fumbles with his radio, humming a Christmas tune loudly, but stumbling on the melody a bit.  He finally finds the holiday station and then he relaxes a bit.

Erik:  I’m really in the, um, holiday spirit this year…

Giani:  Hmmm… whatever bro.  I came to talk to ya about that shit that just took place out there.

Erik nods his head, closing his eyes, clinching them for a second as he mumbles “mmm hmm” in a long, drawn out manner.  Giani chuckles as he looks around for a candid camera or something.

Giani:  Pretty enthusiastic there, ain’t ya, Staggs?  How about ya pull ya’self back to reality and do ya fuckin’ job, bro?  Or are ya too busy walkin’ in a winter wonderland to hear the champion of this company tellin’ ya that he’s gonna fuck up half of ya locker room?

Erik groans in frustration as he rests his elbows on his desk, lacing his fingers together as he looks right at Giani.

Erik:  Look, if you need to go fuck some people up, I couldn’t care less.  This roster could use a good kick in the ass.  That’s hardly a complaint, and it isn’t my job to satiate your ego anymore, Mr. Di Luca, ever since you turned into some Batman Boy Scout…

Giani:  I ain’t askin’ ya to stroke my ego, Erik!  I’m askin’ ya to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid out there.  Ain’t Sin City Wrestlin’ had enough property damage fees from me by now?

Erik:  Go ahead… Why exactly should I give a damn if you get fired?  You’re the one who wants to prove to the world that this company isn’t a sinking ship.  You’re the one who wants to lead this “rag tag” set of misfits to the top of indy wrestling.  I could replace you with some meathead like, say… Jimmy Ringo… in a heartbeat.  So don’t you dare come in here with those threats, because I will can your ass for breach of contract so fucking fast it will make your big head spin…  Ohhhh yeahhhh…

Giani’s eyebrows furl as he leans against the desk, sizing Erik up.  Both headstrong men can’t seem to get the other to budge, that is until Erik’s awkward spaz out at the end of his rant.  Giani leans back a bit, still keeping his stare locked on Erik’s steely eyes.

Giani:  I’m sure one more flash in the pan champions will help the reputation of this company out a lot, won’t it?  Look, I ain’t askin’ for any special favors.  I ain’t tryin’ to have an easy title run.  As a matter of fact, I want to have to earn the title more and more with each defense.  It’s got nothin’ to do with the title even.  My gripe is that, if ya don’t start warnin’ ya roster about tryin’ to prove that they’re better than the champ… I’m gonna start takin’ them out, one by one, until there ain’t no competition left… So breach that, motherfucker…

Giani gets up, ready to walk over to the door.  He turns around to say one last thing until he really notices the beads of sweat on Erik’s forehead and eyebrows.  He pulls something out of his jacket pocket, a piece of paper that he tosses down on Erik’s desk.

Giani:  By the way, that’s the money I promised for the Toys for Tots drive here tonight.  Make sure they get it, errand boy…

Erik isn’t even paying attention as he clutches onto the edge of his desk, taking in hard, shallow breaths as he looks down at his white knuckles.  His breaths get more and more shallow until he shouts out.

Erik:  Ohhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhh sugar tits, you earn that contract!  Uhhhhhh…

Giani’s eyes widen as he has now learned a new level of discomfort.  It isn’t until he looks slightly underneath the desk that he sees a pair of long, slender legs and the deep red bottoms of black stiletto heels.  He rubs the back of his head, trying to figure out how to come back from something like that, but he can’t seem to find a way.  Erik takes in another deep breath, pounding the top of his desk with a relieved laugh.

Erik:  Fwewwww… Thanks or that, Giani.  I thought nobody was going to come in here and bitch at me.  I like an audience.

Giani:  I’m… pretty sure that’s some form of sexual harassment, bro.

Erik shakes his head as he fumbles around, making “adjustments” before he zips up his pants underneath his desk.  He pulls a tissue out of the box on his desk and puts it underneath the desk.

{{{TBC: was cut off around here}}}

 ”I can’t help but feel… like things are actually startin’ to look up for me.  I’m finally startin’ to get the fans on my side.  I’m openin’ my mind up to the possibilities that I might not be as perfect as I once thought, and… Okay.  Who am I kiddin’ with that last part?  I’m the “Reflection of Perfection”, baby… But I legit feel like I’ve done some things that was probably pretty shitty over the last several months.  I can admit to that now, thanks to ya help, doc.  Even if I spent all of Sunday night with a bag of frozen peas on each nut, it was kinda liberatin’ to call out Spike Staggs and apologize like that…”

---

{Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger}
Club LAX – Post Climax Control

The last of the fans are filing out of the club as they set up for their nightly musical entertainment.  The ring crew has the ropes taken down from the turnbuckles already, and they are working on disassembling the rest of the ring.  One man stands with a clipboard in his hand as he pulls a walkie talkie from his pocket.  It crackles as he speaks indistinctly into it.  Some of the SCW roster has sat back to enjoy a few drinks on the house while catching up with one another, as well as some of the behind-the-scenes crew.  Coming from the make-shift backstage area is Giani Di Luca.  He has his gym bag slung over his shoulder as he looks around at all of the disapproving faces.  He can’t help but bow his head, deflecting the negativity he had become accustomed to over the last several months.  He dodges the busy crew running around, collecting wires and the like, trying to simply stay out of everyone’s way.  His eyes rise for a moment as he spots Misty standing by the bar.  A meek smile spreads over his face as he weaves around, on his way to speak to the former Queen of the Damned.  A glimmer of what he had once felt for her had resonated, even if it were only visible as a twinkle in his eye and a half smile.  As he gets closer to her, he looks up, putting on his usual confident smile.  He opens up his mouth to shout out her name in hopes of catching her attention.

Giani:  Missss-

He stops himself when he sees the scruffy blonde guy that walks up to her.  He sees the genuine happiness in her smile, and he can’t help but think that this guy needed to shave because blonde hair and a red beard just looked ridiculous.  And the tattered baggy jeans died off with Cobain.  And who was he fooling with that hoodie that just happened to advertise some obscure band that nobody, perhaps even this douchebag, had even heard of.  The jealousy boils within him as he balls his fists up at his side.  Nearly every ounce of his being compelled him to walk over to this pseudo asshole and knock his front teeth down his throat and clear out of his ass.  But that tiny piece of him couldn’t stand the idea of taking that smile from Misty’s face… not again.  He stifles a growl as he simply lowers his head and continues toward the door.  This was one night that he would not be staying until the bar closed down.  He might have very well been the first of the SCW talent to have left for the night… well, other than Mercedes Vargas.  He feels the sweet relief of the door.  The reverie that awaits him on the other side brushes over his entire body as he places his hand on the black gate-like door.  No sooner than he felt the cold wrought iron in his hand, he also felt a cold hand grip onto his shoulder.  He simply stops himself as he takes a deep breath, ready to deal with someone he had very likely pissed off at some point over the last year.  He turns around, and who should he find but…

Spike:  Where the hell do you think you are going?

Those fucking sunglasses… It’s not even daylight outside, and who would want to take a picture of… awww forget it.

Giani:  I’m doin’ what every person here wants me to do.  I’m walkin’ outta the door.  Unfortunately for them, it is only for the night.

Spike slowly lifts the sunglasses off of his face, letting them rest on his forehead, pushing back his messy spiked black hair back a bit.  His eyes are locked on one of the least expected places of Giani… the NXT shirt he is still wearing underneath his hoodie.  Giani blushes just a little bit as he looks down at it.  There are several silently exchanged words between the two before anyone actually spoke up.

Giani:  Look, I bought it at the merch table, and I thought it would help make my statement more powerful.  I guess you had the louder statement of the evenin’ though, dawg…

Spike slowly looks up to the genuine expression upon Giani’s face.  He narrows his eyes as he studies the look for some sort of flaw, can’t seem to find one.  Spike opens his mouth, showing off his pearly white teeth as he chuckles through a shit-eating grin.

Spike:  Yeah, I’m surprised they didn’t pop out of your mouth like a Nerf gun. But, something doesn’t sit right with me.  I can’t put a finger on it exactly, but I know you’re lying.

Giani:  See… I don’t know why I even bothered.  Everybody just wants to see the worst in me, and no matter what I do, they always will.  The fans shift with the drop of a dime, but nobody else wants to believe that maybe I’m not Satan.

Spike waits patiently for Giani to continue, but Giani reacts by turning around and going for the door once more.  He pops open the door, but doesn’t get one foot out into the hall before Spike leans forward, practically whispering in his ear.

Spike:  The shirt… you didn’t just buy it from the merch table.  That design went out of print nearly a year ago, shortly after you joined NXT.  You held onto the one I gave you, even with all of the shit you and I went through?  After all of the shit you talked on NXT?

Giani simply shrugs his shoulders.  He continues out into the hallway, walking away from Spike, almost as if he were in a hurry.  However, Spike is relentless in his pursuit of answers.  He follows Giani about half way down the corridor, getting in front of him to stop him from going any further.

Spike:  You… you said you burned this.  You said that NXT was worthless, yet you held onto this shirt.  What’s your game, Di Luca?

Giani:  Goddamn it!  Is it so hard to believe that I might have actually changed, bro?  You know what?  I didn’t lie when I said that ya crew of misfits was worthless.  Ya girlfriend is only spank material for nerdy gamer kids livin’ in their momma’s basement.

Spike:  Yeah, she just got lucky three times to become the first Bombshell Grand Slam Champion.  She didn’t nearly kill Parand Ara.  You’re right, she’s *air quotes* worthless…

Giani:  What about Jessie Salco?  Ya can’t get her out of her hotel room unless ya dangle a three way opp in front of her.  She can’t win a match to save her life.  But, who should we really blame here?  Maybe ya own piss poor management?

Spike’s nostrils flare up as he looks dead into Giani’s eyes.  This time, Giani shows no remorse.  Spike simply shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling as he laughs under his breath.  He tries to stifle his laughter as he looks back at Giani.  He wants to form an argument, but before he can, Giani continues on.

Giani:  I ain’t tryin’ to pick no fight with ya, but I wasn’t lyin’ when I said ya had surrounded yaself with a bunch of losers and quitters.  Half of Sin City Wrestlin’ was part of NXT, it seems like.  Misty, Casey Williams, Jordan Williams, Aleksei Koji, myself, Odette Ryder, Derek Thorne, Ben Jordan, Mickey Carroll… everybody but ya brother, ohhh wait!

Spike:  Is there a point to reminding me of my own failures.  I’m not about to give up on those who have been loyal to me for the better part of a year, or longer.  If you are playing some game to get me to call it quits, then you are sorely mistaken “bro”…

Giani:  Exactly the opposite, bro.  NXT is shit right now.  Ya can’t deny it.  Ya got absolutely fuck all to draw the fans in.  Unless ya plannin’ on lacin’ up ya boots again, ya got jack shit besides a big fat “maybe” from Simon Jones.  Yeah, Vixen’s got a title right now, but one half of the Bombshell Tag Team Titles is almost worse than havin’ no title at all.

Spike doesn’t want to admit that Giani is right, and the look on his face seems as if it could possibly kill.  However, he sighs, rubbing at his temples as he closes his eyes tightly.  Spike growls out loud before slamming a fist into the wall.  He takes a moment to compose himself before turning back to Giani, still trying to regulate his breathing.

Spike:  In your infinite wisdom, how can we fix this?  I won’t give up on Vixen or Jessie until they give up on me like everyone else did.  I’m willing to listen to whatever you have to say, Giani.

Giani:  No kicks to the balls?

Spike:  No kicks to the balls, I promise, man…

Giani sets his bag down on the ground next to the wall as a bit of a smile creeps onto his face.  He rolls up the sleeves of his jacket, showing off his toned forearms that are the size of medieval clubs as he looks right at Spike.

Giani:  Well, right now, no one cares about a stable of two chicks led by a retired World and Heavyweight Champion.  But… what if, say… the Number One Contender to SCW’s Heavyweight Championship were to get behind ya stable?  Then, maybe that Number One Contender wins the top title in this company.  I share some of the credit and maybe we get a couple of people interested in OUR little group?

Spike:  Are you talking about whoring out your standing to draw attention to the New X-Tremes once again?

Giani:  For the master manipulator, ya sure don’t catch on too quick, do ya?  That’s only part of what I’m talkin’ about.  If a stable of one dude and two chicks run rampant over this motherfuckin’ place, people are gonna have to pay attention.  I’m not talkin’ about just the attention though.  I’m talkin’ about domination.  Pure… domination.

Spike listens to what Giani is saying, and it actually makes sense.  He has an odd feeling about this, but he can’t seem to find it in him to turn down the opportunity to once again rise to the top.  And what this could do for Vixen’s career was all he could think about.  He slowly nods his head.  Giani sticks out his hand as Spike just stares at it.  He takes a deep breath before gripping it tightly, giving it a firm shake.  Both men share a bit of a laugh as the scene slowly fades out.

---

”It felt so good to make amends with Spike.  I would be lyin’ if I said I was only doin’ this to help him, Vixen, and Jessie Salco out.  I will go back to bein’ trained by a two time World Heavyweight Champion, and man who has held the belt I’m shootin’ for.  If I can return to my former glory, bein’ surrounded by misfits like myself, it would be a true underdog story.  Who doesn’t love one of those?  I never said that I didn’t have a flair for dramatics.  Plus, it makes me feel good doin’ a bit of charity.  Or, maybe it’s the fact that I am makin’ up for all the crap I put my mentor through.  Imagine if these plans I got rollin’ around in my head pan out.  The New X-Tremes will be on top of Sin City Wrestlin’.  It’s a win-win-win-win situation for all of us.

“But there is somethin’ a little more pressin’ at the moment.  The card for the 66th edition of Climax Control features yours truly. I’m gonna blow the roof off of the Convention Center…”

---

{Blah Blah Blah}
Reno Sparks Convention Center

Just a few short days before Climax Control invades Reno, the convention center is totally empty.  The parking lot is bare with the exception of a black Escalade parked near the front door.  A man stands against the wall right next to the large door, huddled up inside of his hoodie with a cigarette hanging from his lips.  He exhales a large cloud of smoke with his arms folded across his chest.  A black van with the Sin City Wrestling emblem printed on the side pulls up next to the Escalade.  After a moment, the door opens up and a blonde woman steps out wearing a fur-lined pink ski jacket and skin tight black pants.  She can see her breath as a cameraman follows her.  She walks over to the man standing in front of the building, rushing along so that she can get out of the cold as soon as possible.

PW:  Giani!  Hi, thanks for having me, but couldn’t we do this somewhere… warmer?

Giani tilts his hood back a little bit to reveal his face.  His eyes are covered by sunglasses which he lifts up a bit to admire the frame of Ms. Willow.  He smirks as he drops the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out as he exhales, allowing the wind to carry the smoke off.

Giani:  No… This has to be said right here.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.

PW:  I’m not sure I understand…

Giani:  It’s simple.  Right now, this place is completely empty, right?  In a few short days, this place is goin’ to be packed.  I’m goin’ to fill every single seat in this place with my talent and charisma.  As each week goes on, more and more people pay to see me fist pump and kick ass.  That’s a fact.

Giani can’t help but notice Pussy’s eyes roll as she shivers a bit.  He looks as if he is offended, but he refuses to say anything about it.  Instead, he looks over to the camera as the sun reflects off of his sunglasses.

Giani:  The fans can see that I’m a changed man.  They can see that I’m not completely full of myself… well, no more than I ever was when they loved me.  I’m not even gonna bitch about the fact that my match isn’t the Main Event.  I understand that ya can’t have a Main Event with suck asses like Goth and Kain involved.

PW:  Can I remind you that Goth is our SCW Heavyweight Champion?  That’s kind of a big deal that could make someone worthy of Main Event status…

Giani:  I know, it’s a travesty isn’t it?  How the hell did that happen once, let alone twice?  Some people are just born lucky, I guess.  Or maybe it has somethin’ to do with touching the SCW Tag Team Championships.  I mean, look at the history.  Half of the first ever tag champs in SCW went on to get the SCW Heavyweight Championship not long after losin’ the belt.  Jordan Williams did the same exact thing.  Not to mention that douchebag, Kevin Carter.  There’s a direct line between the Tag belts and the Heavyweight belt.  One half of the majority of former Tag Team Champions have gone on to capture that belt.

Giani lifts his glasses up to properly read Pussy’s expression.  She takes in what he is saying, and she almost seems impressed by this point.  She has to focus on the interview, so she shakes this off.

PW:  I understand what you are saying, but what does that have to do with this match?  And why did you have to be out here to tell me this?

Giani:  It has everythin’ to do with this match.  Goth’s luck just ran out when me and James lost the tag belts.  The second, the very freakin’ second, I lost that belt, my luck has changed for the better.  First time I step back from vacation, I’m in a match where I defeated three other guys, all former champions with *air quotes* good reputations.  I don’t really buy that, but whatever.  I’m destined to defeat Goth, takin’ that title away from him, and Sunday I will be givin’ the fans a taste of that.

Giani lowers his sunglasses once again, playing it cool as he leans against the wall.  He slides his hands into his pockets on his hoodie, keeping them there as he puts the bottom of one foot against the wall.

PW:  I get it now.  But, this wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve faced Goth.

Giani:  Yeah, each and every time I have, I defeated him.  He has not gotten a win over me… ever.  I plan on keepin’ it that way.  Now, someone I only faced just two weeks ago was Kain.  I gotta admit, he put up a better fight than I thought he would have.  But, one thing I said two weeks ago is that he is a decent street fighter.  He proved that.  We was in his element then.  We was fightin’ in a graveyard then.  This time?  We’re gonna be inside of that ring.  MY ring.  The ring that I dominate each and every time I step foot inside of it.  Kain might be able to handle his in the ring, but that doesn’t mean shit when ya come in and face someone of my caliber.  I’m a freakin’ boss in that ring!

PW:  As much as some fans might still be skeptical of you, there is no denying that your win/loss record is pretty impressive.  A little fun fact, did you realize that you’ve defeated two men who hold, or have held the SCW Heavyweight Champions?

Giani smirks.  He slowly nods his head as he lets out his signature laugh, pulling his hands out of his jacket.  He pulls the hood of his jacket back just enough to allow part of his faux hawk to poke out from underneath it.  He leans off of the wall to lean down near the microphone in Pussy’s hand.

Giani:  Really?  Two?  You can’t think of anyone else?  I’ve defeated the last four consecutive Heavyweight Champions, if ya don’t count Kevin Carter, cause most folks don’t.  Not only that, but I also defeated Nick Jones.  I also knocked the piss outta Spike Staggs a few times, and I put Gabriel out of action.  I have a history with that belt, even if I never had a shot at it.  See, ya tryin’ to trick me.  I wasn’t done talkin’ about Kain, but ya distracted me with my favorite topic… my swag.  My sheer awesomeness…

PW:  Is there something you would like to add about Kain?

Giani:  I’m gonna be generous here to prove my loyalty to the fans.  I’m gonna give Kain another second of undeserved air time.  My words are valuable ya know… Even if I’m trash talkin’ him, it’s still gonna boost his fanfare.  And trust me, that piece of shit could use all the help he can get.  He likes to play tough, puttin’ on that badass persona, but deep inside, he’s nothin’ but a scared little boy.  I’ve faced people like him in the past.  Hell, everyone in “Boring” @$$ Championship Wrestlin’… see how I avoided copyright infringement there…everyone in that place had the same gimmick.  I mowed over the majority of their roster before gettin’ bored and tellin’ them where they could stick the belt no one could take off of me.  I’ve been there and done that with twenty other Kain’s, not to mention he couldn’t even take me down in his own environment, so how is going to do when he comes up against the two men who dominated that Graveyard Match?

As soon as Giani finishes that part of his rant, he leans against the wall again.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, placing it to his lips.  He lights it, inhaling deeply before exhaling a large cloud of smoke that gets carried off by the wind.

PW:  Well, it seems like you have some pretty strong opinions about your opponents.  You’ve defeated Goth and Kain both, but you’ve also defeated your partner for this week.  How do you think your egos will be able to coexist?

Giani:  It’s simple.  Nick Jones better stay outta my way and keep his goons out of the equation.  I proved to him that I can play just as dirty as him to secure a win, but it was just that… proving a point to him.  Givin’ him a taste of his own medicine.

PW:  You sure it wasn’t just to get the Number One Contendership?

Giani scoffs at the insinuation of Pussy.  He takes another deep drag from his cigarette, politely blowing it away from her face.  He leans off of the wall, taking a defensive stance as he puffs out his chest.

Giani:  Yeah, I’m pretty sure, P-Dubs.  Somebody needed to show him how it feels to be screwed outta an opportunity like that.  I was the one to do just that.  But I’ve proved that I can defeat anyone without cheatin’.  He hasn’t.  But he’s lucky this week, cause he’s teamed with the “Italian Stallion”, the “Reflection of Perfection”, Giani Di Luca.  That’s like a guaranteed win.  As long as he don’t screw it up by addin’ his friends to the equation, he can leave it to me to guarantee our hands held up in victory.  And if he don’t cross me durin’ our match, I won’t have to lay him out, like I did two weeks ago.  Now, I have every intention of playin’ nice with Nick as long as he does the same.  The problem is that he isn’t know for doin’ this, so I’m prepared.  I got a friend of my own who will be watchin’ my back, and he’s someone who has had plenty of experience with Nick Jones in the past.  Need a hint?

Pussy nods her head.  Giani unzips his hoodie, showing off the classic NXT designed t-shirt.  She looks shocked, and a bit skeptical as she studies the shirt.

Giani:  As of five days ago, I came to an agreement with Spike Staggs.  I need a crew to roll with, and he don’t want NXT to die.  NXT might not have the best record, but Spike Staggs is the resident badass.  Vixen and Jessie Salco are hot enough to roll alongside two bad motherfuckers like us, so what’s the problem?

PW:  There’s no problem with that, but it’s just a little bit of a shock after how badly you’ve downed the New X-Tremes over the last several months.  It’s also a stable that Nick Jones has had plenty of bad things to say about.  Don’t you think it might not help your working relationship to wear the NXT arm band during your match?

Giani:  Look, everyone knows that NXT has been a dyin’ breed since I left, but now that I’m back, that’s all we need to dominate.  If Nick Jones don’t like it, then he’s welcome to take it up with me, but not until we defeat Kain and Goth, cause let’s face it… how embarrassin’ would it be for us to both have a loss to those two jackasses?  He knows it just as well as I do.  I’m not ashamed to represent NXT, and I don’t care how Nick, or anybody for that matter, feels about it.  If ya don’t like it, then… FUHGEDDABOUDIT!  I’ll prove on Sunday how one man can revive a dead horse like NXT, cause I’m just that damn good…

With that, Giani raises an eyebrow and walks off screen.  The camera focuses in on Pussy who fights back the urge to say something, but she can only do so for so long.  She raises a hand up and cups it around her mouth, shouting at Giani.

PW:  I might have to cut that last part off since that’s Jordan William’s trademark ending statement!  Literally… he has it trademarked!

She sighs as a door slams in the distance.  An engine starts as she rolls her eyes.  She runs her fingers over her throat as a sign for the camera to turn off as we fade out.

---

”Sin City Wrestlin’ is gonna learn real damn quick that I’m on my way to the top.  I was held down long enough by what other people wanted me to do.  I’m no longer someone’s goon squad.  I’m the golden boy now, and the sky’s the limit for me.  With nothin’ holdin’ me back, no loyalties, no bunk ass Tag Team Championships… I’m gonna show this place what Giani Di Luca was destined to do.  Take a good look at the last SCW Heavyweight Champion ya ever gonna see, cause I’m gonna hold this title until I’m old and gray.  This week is just another steppin’ stone to my greatness when I defeat Goth, once again, only this time it will be in my pursuit of that belt.  I’m gonna give the fans a good show this week, and then in a few short weeks, I’m gonna give them a champion they can finally respect…”

{I got my speakers on Wrecked!}

{fin}

 ”ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDIN’ ME, DAWG?!?”

The steam from the sauna clouds the view of the entire room as Giani Di Luca’s face comes partially into view.  He has a scowl as the steam parts way to see his glistening tanned skin under the faint light.  He wipes away at the moisture on his brow as the others in the sauna shush him.  He tenses up and moves forward, daring anyone else to speak up against him again.  They quiet down as Giani looks over to his right with pure disdain filling his face.  He stares silently as the steam parts way to see Erik Staggs sitting next to him, clad only in a towel, as disturbing as that might be.  Giani pulls out his Smart Water bottle and takes a sip of the cool beverage as he awaits some sort of reaction from Erik, only to get stone cold glare back at him.

Erik:  And here comes the tantrum from the spoiled little baby…

Giani tilts his head to the side, as if to beg the question if Erik had really just said that to him.  Once he realizes Erik is not going to step back from his comment, Giani shakes his head, rolling his eyes at Erik.

Giani:  Ya damn right there’s a tantrum brewin’ over here, boss man…  I mean, what kinda bullshit is this?  Me and James deserve to be in the Main Event as Tag Team Champions.  Instead, it’s that annoying, self-righteous asshole Kevin Carter takin’ on the painted up retard that me and James have beaten how many times?  Between the two of us, it has been six times… SIX TIMES, ERIK!!!

Erik:  I know it, Gi.  You aren’t telling me anything that I don’t already know.  To be honest, I figured that Carter would have rolled right over Goth to retain his title.

Giani growls out in pure frustration, cutting off Erik’s argument right away.  He shakes his head quickly, throwing his arms up into the air.  One of the other men in the sauna gets up and walks out, glaring at Giani and Erik.  Erik smiles and waves goodbye to him sarcastically as Giani immediately recaptures his attention.

Giani:  Ya missin’ the point, dawg… Everyone has been down on me and James lately, and it’s cause we been stuck at the mid card level.  They are callin’ us afterthoughts, or neverthoughts… How many times do we gotta go through these losers before people start takin’ us seriously?

Erik:  You realize that it’s a punishment because you guys stuck by me through and after the rebellion, right?  I mean, truth be told, I’m surprised at what is in store for Gothika since she and Raynin stuck by me this whole time as well.

Giani holds his hand up toward Erik’s face, cutting him off once again.  He keeps it there for a moment before Erik gently grabs onto his wrist and moves it about a foot to the side.  Giani isn’t used to being treated this way, but he surprisingly ceases his animosity toward Erik.

Giani:  Look, all I’m sayin’ is that the reason people have left ya high and dry since the whole rebellion thing ended is cause ya haven’t done anythin’ to protect us.  Ya don’t stick up for us, and we have to face people like Shane Spencer, or for Roxanne, Amy Marshall, and Misty has to team up with you-know-who, and whatever it is that is for Gothika, I guarantee it is to break her and Raynin up as a team… And you ain’t doin’ a damned thing to stop any of it.

Erik:  Hmmm, since when do you have access to the staff meetings and conference calls?  Oh wait, you don’t, because if you did, then you would realize that everything turns into a verbal handicap match where I am virtually powerless.  The more I fight, the more they oppose and dismiss anything I have to say.  The only thing that saves me is the fact that JJ Dixon is Mark Ward’s new bitch.

Giani:  I didn’t ask for your excuses, Erik…  I am only concerned about the reason I have to face Shane Spencer when I should be facin’ someone like… who is even remotely worth my time… anyone?  Well, someone who didn’t get his ass whooped by a one armed paddy in his debut match… He’s not even worth my time comin’ down to the ring for.

Erik shakes his head, rubbing his temples in dismay.  He breathes in through his pearly white teeth for a moment, clinching his eyes before sighing as he looks back over to Giani.

Erik:  It could be worse, Giani.  You could have not been booked at all.  Instead, you have the opportunity to take on 6 feet 3 inches of pure muscle, and prove that you are capable of taking anyone out.

Giani:  He’s a roided out freak, Erik!  But what is worse is the fact that he isn’t worth a shit, and everybody knows it.  He is a waste of the artificial muscles.  He proved it when he got beat by Mickey Carroll… Mickey FUCKIN’ Carroll!  Not only that, but a handicapped form of Mickey Carroll!  It’s about time these assholes take notice of me, in the locker room, AND in the office, or I might just have to do somethin’ drastic, boss.

Erik:  Oh?  Do tell?  Because it would be a pleasant change from the constant bitching you have been doing lately…

Giani almost looks shocked by Erik’s declaration, doing nothing but blinking while Erik leans back on the bench, stretching out comfortably.  Giani finally soaks it all in and narrows his eyes at Erik.

Giani:  The fuck did you just say to me?  The guy who has been going out to the ring for the last three weeks, trying to make those idiots, Sinful Obsession, pay attention to us, or act like they give some sort of a shit about this match, or the fans even.  Yet I haven’t heard a single thing from either of those freaks.  Not even a mention of it.  So excuse me if it seems like I don’t give a shit about SCW very much right now.  It’s kinda hard to do when nobody else does anythin’ worth my time to even focus on.  So in the end, I am stuck fightin’ newbies and has-beens instead of bein’ able to do somethin’ that matters.

Erik:  For what it’s worth, Mr. Di Luca… Any challenge that they throw at you, you destroy it like a wrecking ball.  They expected you to lose to Goth and Brother Grimm, and you beat them three times.  Not only that, but you gave James a confidence that he so sorely needed.  His trash talk is pure… garbage… but he has the determination, all because you had one selfless act, allowing him to pin Brother Grimm to win the SCW Tag Team Championships. You have done amazing things despite your supposed status.  Everyone knows that if you were concerned with championships, you would be the Heavyweight Champion well before now.  Mark and Christian both know it, and they are thanking their lucky stars that you haven’t set your sites on the prize yet, so they don’t have to eat their words, and so that they can continue to promote which ever shit wrestler they want.

Giani nods his head in total agreement.  He seems content with Erik’s praises as he joins Erik in a relaxing manner.  He tucks his arms behind his head and leans back a bit, causing two more men from across the sauna to groan and walk away, mumbling something about their sole views of Giani and Erik’s “junk”.  Erik smirks proudly as he watches them walk off.

Erik:  I guess we are inspiring jealousy even here, Giani.

Giani:  C’mon, bro… I do that everywhere I go… Now, if I go out to that ring and fight against this inferior fighter who got nothin’ on me… will ya make sure me and James are put in matches that showcase our true potential?

Erik:  Sadly, in the tag division, if you defeat Sinful Obsession, there really isn’t anyone else worthy of your time.  Now, if, perhaps you were to maybe take a second too long to save James from a pin…

Giani’s eyes shoot open and he turns his head back to look at Erik in disgust.  He stares for a moment at Erik’s deviously smiling face, trying to make sense of what Erik is suggesting.

Giani:  Now, perhaps if ya shut ya mouth talkin’ like that, I wouldn’t have to mop the floor with ya!  First of all, I ain’t gonna ruin my own name by takin’ a loss to those over glorified hacks.  Second of all, I ain’t gonna abandon my best friend, not for the promises of all the championship gold in the world.  So fuck ya for even suggestin’ somethin’ like that, dawg.

Erik:  You played this game before, Giani.  Don’t you remember being held down by Spike when you were with the New X-Tremes?  Even though it isn’t being done to promote James’s own ego like Spike did, he is holding you down.  You know it, I know it, and the bookers know it.  If you want to be taken seriously, you need to ditch the kid at the earliest convenience.  Such as High Stakes III, maybe?

Giani looks completely disgusted at what Erik is saying, and he stands up from the bench.  He adjusts his towel to secure it in place as he glares down at Erik.  Erik’s look suggests that he looks forward to what is to follow.

Giani:  Ain’t gonna happen *air quotes* boss…

Erik:  That’s a stupid move on your part, Giani.  Get it together, kiddo… You have star potential all on your own.  But if you insist on fighting for those useless straps when there are bigger and better ones for the both of you… then look forward to facing more Shane Spencer’s for the rest of your career…

Giani is more than fed up with Erik’s version of a pep talk.  He tries to come up with a good line to leave on, but he is too angry to even try.  Instead, he just storms off in a huff.  Again, Erik waves at him in a sweetly sarcastic manner, looking around to realize that he has the entire sauna to himself now.  He begins to undo his towel as we thankfully fade out…

{I got my speakers on WRECKED!}

{fin}

 ”You STUPID… ARROGANT… COCKY PRICK!”

These words echo throughout Giani Di Luca’s ears as he stares deep into the wolf-like eyes of Misty.  He is focusing on nothing besides those hauntingly beautiful eyes, even though she is clearly directing anger toward him.  He notices the way the left corner of her lips twitches slightly as her eyebrows arch in what is clearly a rage.  A light tinge of pain runs up his arm as she punches him in it.  She does this repeatedly as Giani stands there, entranced by those eyes, the porcelain skin of a real goddess.  Her lips move, but all he hears are faint echoes as she begins shoving him backward.  Everything in him wants to shout back at her, but he just… can’t.  A smile comes over his face and she stops, narrowing her eyes at him.  He can almost swear she was asking him “What do you have to be so FUCKING happy about?”  He tries to move his lips, but it just doesn’t work.  She uses the palm of her hand to knock herself against the side of her head, shouting further at him.

Misty:  Duhhh, HELLO?  You fucking idiot, can you even hear me?  Are you that dense now that you can’t even answer a simple fucking question?  Why are you smiling?  What is so wonderful about me being irate with you?

Her words fade into the background as a new feeling washes over him.  It is a feeling he has never felt with Misty before.  His blood starts to boil, and he realizes he is no longer paralyzed by her beauty, or his feelings for her.  He starts by moving his hand at his side slowly.  He pumps his fingers, balling his fist up and then releasing it.  His right eye begins to twitch, and a darkness settles in over him.  He begins moving forward, but Misty doesn’t back down.

Giani:  You wanna know why I’m smilin’?  Cause I think it’s cute when YOU think you can intimidate me like I was Spike freakin’ Staggs or somethin’!  You was probably able to make him ya bitch, but I ain’t no bitch, capiche?!  I’m a man…

Misty stares at him during his outburst, and then she tilts her head back with a sarcastic laugh.  With a roll of the eyes, she settles them back on Giani as if she were going in for the verbal kill.  She takes an almost seductive strut toward him as she trains her stare directly on the area of question.

Misty:  You are always talking a big game, “Mr. Di Luca”.  If you were really everything that you say you are, then you would have charmed me out of my pants by now, wouldn’t you?  I mean, you say you are this suave master of love making, yet all you ever do is *hand motions* talk… talk… talk…

Giani:  Oh, now ya gonna give me shit cause I haven’t forced myself on ya?  What kinda shit is that?  You’re the kind of crazy fucking BITCH that would send me to jail for that shit, and you know it!  I might be good at what I do, but I ain’t never gonna force myself on no one, got it?

Misty giggles as she walks forward, but now Giani is moving backward.  Misty is playing a game of cat and mouse with him, stalking forward as he smile gets bigger.  Giani doesn’t want to give in, though, so he matches her steps forward with steps back, one by one, ever so slowly.

Misty:  Why, Mr. Di Luca… it’s almost like you are trying to hurt my feelings?  First, you call me a lesbian.  Then you go all Rain Man, staring at me like I was insane.  Now you are calling me insane?  A bitch?  Well, you are going to have to be a little more creative than that if you want to hurt my feelings.  You are just avoiding the obvious.  You are a scared little boy, trapped in a man’s body.

She finally catches up to him and begins smacking at his arm as hard as she can.  It leaves a slight sting as her anger returns to her face once more.  However, this time, Giani grabs onto her arm, pulling her in toward him.  She rears her hand back to slap him, but he snatches that arm up too.  She growls at him, spitting in his face before speaking.

Misty:  Let… me… GO!

Giani spins her around and shoves her down onto his bed.  He peels off his shirt as Misty sits there, stunned.  He tosses his shirt in her face as he leans over the edge of the bed.  He uses his arms in an almost gorilla-like posture to pull himself over her.  She stares up at him, almost quivering.  The diamond crusted cross hanging from his neck slowly tickles her just below her neck.  His deep dark brown eyes stare into the oceans that are Misty’s, and it was almost as if he had stolen the breath away from her.  It was her turn to be in a trance, silently begging him to give her everything that she has secretly desired since the day he ever stepped foot in Sin City Wrestling.  She wanted that sweet, innocent young man who whooped Jamie Staggs’ ass all over the arena just for fun.  She wanted to corrupt him.  She wanted that bitter, jaded Giani who had become nothing more than an under utilized bodyguard to Spike Staggs, so loyal and yet so corrupted.  Then, she wanted this powerhouse, arrogant sonuvabitch who thought he was on top of the world.  Of course, in her eyes, he was.  He was hovered over her, and that was exactly what she wanted most of all.  She wanted to devour him, so badly, but something in him just wouldn’t let her.  It was her turn to be under his trance.

Giani:  How is this for a scared little boy?  Would a scared little boy stuff ya like a Thanksgivin’ turkey for hours on end, making you moan, quiver, shake, and begging for more?

Misty:  No, he wouldn’t.  Only a real man could make any of that happen.

Giani nods his head slowly, but with authority as he leans down, kissing on the left side of her neck.  He laps his tongue against it between each pang of his lips.  He stops and then switches to the other side, finding an even better reaction from Misty.  She gasps and does everything she can to fight the feeling, but it had consumed her the second he was hovering over her.  He tilts her head forward, supporting her head as he flicks his tongue over her lips in a tease.  She grabs onto his shoulders and runs her nails over them, causing him to moan as well.  He hovers just an inch above her lips, both trying to resist what is now inevitable.  The attraction of opposites is too strong now as their lips meet, fighting out their passionate fury.  Misty wraps her arms around Giani’s neck and he wraps his around her waist, lifting her up onto his lap.  She plants her knees against the bed as she hovers over him, trying to take control.  She tugs at the hair near the back of his head as her long raven locks become a curtain that conceals them as she tugs him down to his back.

Misty:  I’m not sure if you can handle this, Mr. Di Luca.

Giani gives her a moment where she dominates over him, allowing her to quickly untie her black and red laced corset.  However, he leans up and pulls the string out slowly with his teeth.  Within a few quick jerks of his head, the corset falls off of her, and Giani quickly flips her onto her back.  He presses his torso against hers, running his hands up and down her bare sides.  He runs his tongue down her stomach as she crosses her arms over her chest.  He leans his head under her skirt and with no hands, he pulls off her black laced panties, holding them between his teeth before spitting them out onto the floor next to the fallen corset.  He stalks above her until his glistening chest is pressed against hers.  Her cheeks gain a slight red tint as Giani pushes down his pants and she digs her nails into the bed post, leaving scratch marks…

It is then that the sunlight hits Giani’s face.  His eyes clinch together before fluttering open.  He looks at the empty spot next to him in the bed, and it hits him that this was only a dream.  He sighs in disappointment.  He leans forward, clutching at the medical patches covering his upper back.  He pulls the hotel covers off of himself and tosses them over the side of his bed, clutching at his head to get a grip on himself.

{I Got My Speakers On Wrecked!}

{Cut Scene}

We come into the green room where Giani is already hard at work.  He picks up the canvas chair and throws it across the room.  Dean Lombardo cocks an eyebrow up from behind his sunglasses when Giani reaches up above the screen that sports the Manhattan skyline with the BACW logo in front of it.  He grunts as he tugs at it, ripping it partially from the wall.  The metal beam that once held it in place is hanging down to expose a white wall.  Giani finishes ripping it from the wall, covering himself in the screen.  He tears the screen as much as he can with his bare hands before Dean puts a hand on Giani’s tender shoulder.  Giani quickly flings the supportive hand off of him and he shoves Dean against the wall.  In his fit of rage, he stumbles, tripping over the torn pieces of the screen.  He kicks his feet out, trying to untangle the pieces from around his shoes.  He seems to notice the camera suddenly as he huffs and puffs.  He picks up a bottle of Smart Water and sprays it into his mouth before drenching his nearly red face with it.  His chest heaves as he rests one hand on top of the camera as if to get in each and every one of our faces.

Giani:  You all like this sh*t, dontcha?  It’s pretty f*ckin’ funny to see the Reflection of Perfection bein’ tarnished, right?  You musta loved seein’ the Italian Stallion bein’ stampeded over.  Are you all gettin’ a kick outta the replays?  I bet you disgustin’ losers sittin’ at home are just lovin’ this meltdown.  After the travesty known as the King of the Deathmatch Tournament, you must be pretty pleased, huh?  Two years in a row, I was screwed over.

Giani’s eyes almost seem to light up with a devious mixture of excitement and rage.  He lets out a nervous sort of laughter as he bobs from side to side for a second.  Once he steadies himself, a smile spreads across his face.  He leans in so that his dripping face is the only thing visible.

Giani:  I guess next time I am stupid enough to enter any NWA tournament or title match, I should just write a long, boring letter?  Hm?  Or should I go bat sh*t crazy and talk to myself in the rain about my imagination for ten minutes?  If that is the kind of people who squeak out wins, then I want none of it.  Flash in the pan wrestlers are overrated.  Overhyping the wrong people will make you lose the right ones, Batee. It is why BACW lost me last year.  It is why SCW nearly lost me until Erik Staggs stepped up and stopped me from walkin’ outta that door.  I found the confidence boost I needed, and I coulda taken down the world, but the thought of NWA disgusts me right now.  So no matter what happens with this Team Wars, I will be SCW until the day they close their doors.

Giani takes a deep breath through his nose as he continues to just stare into the camera.  His eyes are wide with fury as he pushes the camera away.  It rolls backward before colliding with the back wall, jolting as we assess the damage done by the tantrum.  Giani takes a couple of steps backward, standing in the wreckage.

Giani:  Never in my life did I ever show anyone mercy!  I am relentless! … I don’t stop until I win, or I can’t continue… That’s who I am, and that is how I got as far as I have been with being undefeated.  Until this tournament, I was never truly beaten by anybody.  All the haters out there who think otherwise can get f*cked!  I am The Italian Stallion.  I AM the Reflection of Perfection!  I am Giani Di Luca… and I AM the best wrestler alive, no matter what a dumb ass, twisted tournament says…

Giani stands amongst the wreckage once again.  He looks over to his bodyguard, Dean, and he lifts the left corner of his lips in disgust as he audibly scoffs at him.  He storms past him while muttering under his breath.

Giani:  Clean this sh*t up, Dean.  Make ya’self useful for once…

The comment obviously makes Dean’s blood boil as he stands still for a second, turning his head slightly to look at Giani with a disgusted look on his face.  After the door to the room is slammed, Dean slowly leans down and starts picking up pieces of the fallen screen as we fade in.

{End Cut Scene}


{It Would Have Been Good To Be King}

King of the Death Match has come and gone now, and the outcome was a complete shock to Giani.  He had already set up a celebration for himself at his favorite Vegas hang out, LAX Night Club in the Luxor.  He had invited all of his friends, which incidentally happens to be Team Erik members James Huntington-Hawkes… the third… Misty, Erik Staggs, Casey Williams, Necra Octavian Kaine, Roxanne, Tattooed Goddesses,  Primetime Matthew Kennedy, and bodyguards Simpson and Dean.  The rest of the crowd is comprised of random girls who want to get inside of Giani’s pants, and their oblivious boyfriends who were a fan of the show Giani originated from titled “Fuhgeddaboudit”.  Giani stands outside of the big black doors that look as if they were the gates to hell.  He leans against the door frame with his arms across his chest and a look of anger still etched across his face.  However, he is taking a more silent approach to his pouting.  Dean stands there in his white suit with a red dress shirt and a white tie, by Giani’s original request.  Giani’s hair is a mess, which is a first for him out in public.  He is wearing black skinny jeans with a silver cross threaded onto the left side and a matching T-shirt where the cross goes over his right shoulder.  He is wearing his usual iced out chain and cross studded sunglasses.  Dean starts rubbing his temples before clapping his hands together, looking up into Giani’s face.

Dean:  C’mon, kiddo… You know how much it costs to rent out the LAX on a Friday night?  It was a year’s salary for me back in the day.

Giani tilts his glasses down a bit, and adjusts his head so that Dean can see the nonchalant look in his eyes.  He pauses for dramatics before squinting and shaking his head.

Giani:  Yeah, but I don’t give a damn, Dino.  I ain’t goin’ in there to get embarrassed.  If ya so worried about it, why don’t you go in there and enjoy the party.

Dean:  Okay, I forgot that money ain’t nothin’ to ya, so how about this… Your friends are in there waitin’ for ya to show ya pretty face.  Are you the type of guy who wants to disappoint the people who care about him?

Giani:  Seriously, bro?  Ain’t nobody gonna miss a disappointment like me.  I lost to Spectre for cryin’ out loud!  I ain’t in the mood for this sh*t right now.  Not after all the Twitter garbage I dealt with this week, dawg.

Dean throws his hands up in the air, frustrated.  He shakes his head and drops the duffel bag in his hands to the ground.  He paces back and forth before pulling Giani’s shirt down to his eye level, just a few inches lower.  He lifts his sunglasses to his forehead, and then yanks Giani’s off of his face.  Before Giani can object, Dean’s eyes widen.  His eyes are on fire as he gets nose to nose with his client.

Dean:  Look here ya spoiled little shit!  I can take all kinds of shit from you, but this ain’t about me.  I’m here to protect ya.  That’s my job.  I would be lyin’ if I said that ya ain’t growin on me, kiddo, but… I ain’t gonna take this f*ckin’ attitude right now when I went through the trouble of settin’ all of this up.  Show some appreciation ya ungrateful, spoiled, overgrown f*ckin’ brat!

Giani seems stunned.  He certainly knew Dean was capable of doing such a thing, but he never expected Dean to do that to him.  Giani blinks his eyes, but before he can react, Dean spins him around and opens up the duffel bag.  He places the kings crown on his head, and then wraps the maroon and white cloth over his shoulders, tying it in the front.  Giani struggles with it, but Dean shoves him forward, kicking the door open at the same time.  The “Porn Star Dancing” remix by My Darkest Days featuring Ludacris is starting up.  Giani looks around, seeing several additions of cages hanging from the ceiling, each one featuring a top notch stripper strutting around the pole.  Giani looks over to the bar area that is crowded with several unknown people.  He sees a champagne tower to his left where Dean grabs two glasses, handing one to Giani.  Giani has to let a smile escape his scowl.  The crowd applauds Giani, leading him up toward the stage where a King’s throne is featured.  Giani’s eyes light up as someone walks ahead of him, letting out a red carpet.  The crowd is almost deafening, competing very well with the loud music.  Dean pats him on the back, allowing him to walk several paces ahead of him.  Giani takes a sip of champagne as he comes up to the steps.  He truly feels like royalty right now as he ascends the steps gracefully.  He stands in front of the red and gold throne, studying it before he turns around.  Tattooed Goddesses Amanda Cortez and Laura Jackson walk onto the stage, Amanda handing him a scepter, and Laura handing him a microphone.  For posturing, both ladies give him a quick peck on the cheek before returning to the crowd.

Crowd:  GIANI! GIANI! GIANI! GIANI!

Giani smiles and begins pumping his fists along with the chants.  He walks from one side of the stage to pump his fist in acknowledgement of their support.  He continues doing so as he walks to the opposite side, giving attention to them as well.  As the music dies down, Giani looks up at the ceiling.  He takes a deep breath as his smile fades.  He raises the microphone to his lips.

Giani:  Th-thank you all.  It really warms my heart that you all came out here tonight to support me.  It really shows that not everyone is a hater.  After this last week, I could really use the support.  So many jealous motherf*ckers out there, In SCW, in NWA, and plasterin’ their ignorance all over Twitter.  I promised you all a king that ya could be proud of… I’m just sorry I let you all down.  I ain’t no king.  Sorry to disappoint…  I’m no king… I’m a GOD!

With that, Giani drops the microphone and exits on the left.  He is on his way toward the side exit, but is stunned to see a familiar face standing in front of him.  Sipping on a glass of the fancy champagne is Jericho Hill.  He has a devious smirk on his face as he raises his eyebrows in a bit of faux surprise.  He chuckles as Giani looks slightly annoyed by Jericho’s joy.  Giani removes his crown and garb, tossing them in the nearby trash can and rolling his eyes.

Jericho:  Come on now, Giani… How can you get yourself confused with me?

Giani:  Seriously, bro… No offense, but I ain’t in the mood right now.  This was supposed to be a celebration for when I won King of the Deathmatch.  Instead, we are stuck with a pitiful LOSER like Chris Xtreme!  What the F*CK kind of SH*T is that?

Jericho sets his glass on the edge of the stage and positions himself in front of Giani.  Giani tries to look away, but Jericho turns his head so that he has no choice but to look directly into his eyes.

Jericho:  Don’t you dare go soft on me now, Giani.

Giani:  That’s the first time I ever heard that one…

Jericho goes to continue, but he is caught slightly off guard by Giani.  He offers him a low tone chuckle as the house music starts up to cover up the incident.  Dean leaps down from the stage to provide crowd control.  Jericho pats Giani on the shoulder, shaking his head before returning to his main point.

Jericho:  I already told you that I saw something special in you.  And before you turn that into a perverse comment, I mean it as strictly platonic…  If I didn’t think you were worthy of being a King, I wouldn’t have wasted my time even acknowledging your presence last week, and I certainly wouldn’t have put myself in that Twitter shit storm between you, Thatcher Rex, and that piss ant Drake Green.  I wouldn’t waste my time coming to Sin City Wrestling to help you fight them if I didn’t know you were destined for greatness.

Giani:  Look, dawg… kissin’ my ass ain’t gonna suddenly make me a King.  I’m sorry you were wrong, but…

Jericho lets go of Giani’s shoulders and takes a half step backward.  His eyes widen ever so slightly, but enough to convey his own annoyance with Giani.  He raises a finger in the air and slowly wags it back and forth.

Jericho:  Let’s get a couple of things straight here, gweed… First of all, I am not kissing you ass, I am stating a fact.  I don’t associate with losers, and I certainly don’t promote them or help them out in any way.  I destroy them and then I move on.  Secondly, I am never… ever… wrong!  You will learn that in time, my friend.  Now I suggest you pull yourself out of this pit of despair, and join us in the real world where you are greatness.

Giani rolls his eyes and turns his back to Jericho.  He starts to walk off when he nearly bumps into Misty, our Queen of the Damned.  She looks over to Jericho for a moment and holds a finger up, requesting a moment to talk to Giani.  When she grabs onto his shoulders, he can’t even look into her eyes.  He avoids it at all costs, looking around at the party going on around him.  Misty snaps her fingers in Giani’s face to get his attention, though he still won’t look directly into her eyes.

Misty:  What the hell are you doing?  Are you as stupid as everyone says you are?

Giani:  Yeah… maybe I am.  I definitely ain’t ya king, that’s for damn sure.  I couldn’t even put away a cripple in a Death Match… THAT’S pathetic.

Misty:  A man YOU crippled.  You put up one HELL of a fight, Giani.  Several people out there think that it was a major mistake that you did not win that tournament.  There are talks of rebellion.

Giani snaps his head down to Misty, finally giving her exactly what she has been waiting for.  He glares at her for a second before practically spitting his words out at her.

Giani:  Why rebel against something that is dying?  Let it suffer!  Let it shrivel up and f*cking die.  I don’t care about that.  I have been embarrassed for the last time, Misty.

Misty:  SCW is the crown jewel on the alliance.  Some people are jealous of us… of you.  They don’t want to see you rise to power.  As queen of the Damned, I know a king when I see one, and I am looking at one right now, Mr. Di Luca…

Misty looks over to Jericho Hill as a devious smile crosses her face.  She runs her nails over Giani’s chest harshly, causing a groan of pleasure to escape his lips.

Misty:  … as “God” is my witness, I proclaim you Giani Di Luca… KING of SIN CITY!

Jericho Hill walks up to the duo with a smirk on his face.  He pats Giani on the back with a gruff laugh escaping his lips.  Misty humbles herself for just a moment as she reaches into the trash can.  He pulls out the garb and crown, dusting them off before placing the garb over his shoulders.  He stares at her, seeming a bit unsure of himself, but he finds himself automatically kneeling down before her.  She steadies the crown on his head, making sure it is on perfectly straight.  Giani rises up, and his chest puffs out with a wicked grin on his face.  Misty encourages him to walk back onto the stage, handing him the scepter again.  He swaggers onto the stage toward the throne when he turns toward the crowd once again.  Everyone slowly turns to face the stage with Giani just waiting patiently.  The music quickly fades out and Giani looks as far out as the balconies before putting his arms out at his side.  He lets out a roar that shocks those who hadn’t noticed his presence yet.

Giani:  SIN CITY!!! I AM YOUR KIIIIIIIIIIINGGGGG!!!  Bow down before your excellency!

The crowd cheers as most of them genuflect on the ground, paying their respect to him.  He reaches down and picks up the microphone from the ground, pacing back and forth as the reality hits him.  His spirit rises up as he presses the crown more firmly on his head.  He raises the microphone to his lips.

Giani:  My first royal duty will be giving Thatcher Rex and Drake Green a ROYAL STOMPING on Sunday!  Those piss ants won’t know what hit them, whether it is my royal boot up their asses, or the harsh hand of God crashing down upon them.  Either way, one thing is crystal clear, dawg… Neither one of them is walkin’ out with the win.  I am more certain of that then I have been of anything.  I urge you all to tune in to Climax Control to watch us dish out an ass kickin’ unlike nothin’ ya ever seen in ya life!  … Ya King has spoken!

With that, Giani does a proper “mic drop” and walks over to his throne.  He takes a seat, raising his scepter in the air in a premature celebration.  He smirks and laughs as his people rush the stage.  He grips onto the arm of his chair as they raise him up in the air, letting out a roar.  He steadies himself before looking over to Misty who gives him a nod of approval.  He looks to Jericho Hill who waves him on to enjoy his celebration.  They carry his throne down to the middle of the dance floor, surrounding him as closely as they can as if trying to touch greatness, even just with their finger tips.  He looks out to his fellow Team Erik members who are standing off to the side, and he lets out another ferocious roar.  He throws his hand in the air as the house music starts up once more.  He pumps his fist, this time, with authority.  Those who are not supporting his throne mimic his actions, circling around, forming a sea of people.

If one thing is certain, Giani Di Luca is back, and stronger than ever.  He is ready to face any odds thrown his way.  His confidence is no longer shaken, only strengthened.  He had his mind set on destroying his opponents.  This one has become a bit more personal to him and Jericho Hill both.  This wasn’t going to be any regular match, but more like a war!


{I Got My Speakers On Wrecked}

{This promotional video was brought to you in part by Smart Water… “Hydrate Responsibly”}

{Cut Scene}

We enter the green room, fully refurnished.  The green screen has been fully restored, showing off the Vegas skyline with the Sin City Wrestling logo slowly spinning around in front of it in a newly animated format.  Sitting in front of the green screen is, not the usual canvas chair, but instead the gold trimmed, red velvet throne seen at Giani’s reception ceremony.  Perched on the right arm of the throne is a fresh bottle of Smart Water, glistening under the spotlight.  After being left with a few seconds to take in the new surroundings, Giani Di Luca slowly swaggers into the room.  He is wearing the skinny jeans with the silver cross stitching, the maroon and white garb over his shoulders and well oiled chest, his cross studded sunglasses, and the maroon and white gold crown.  The most prominent feature of his ensemble is the arrogant smile we come to expect from Giani.  He holds his arms out to his side as Dean comes up behind him.  Dean removes the garb and places it gently over the back of the throne before genuflecting in front of Giani, and then stepping off to the side.  Giani slowly lowers his arms to his side and taking a seat.

Giani:  I am Number One, b*tches!  It don’t matter what some bunk ass tournament, or gold plated tin belt says.  I am the best of the best.  When I say I am the King, you would be smart to believe it.  I don’t need to validate myself with some suck ass organization’s belt, or two suck ass organization’s belts.  I know I am the best.  That’s why, no matter how hard the haters try, they just can’t fade me.

Giani kicks his feet up, reclining in the throne.  Dean slides an ottoman, which matches his chair, under his feet before walking to the edge of the room once more.  Giani takes a sip from his water bottle before allowing a few drops to dribble down his chest, clinging to the contours of his well defined upper body.

Giani:  People love to get into my affairs and try to make me doubt myself.  They are just so f*ckin’ mental that they don’t comprehend that tauntin’ me is like kickin’ a hornet’s nest.  It just ain’t a good idea, bro’s.  I showed mercy once, and it screwed me over royally… Never again!  I will never do it.  That is bad news for Thatcher Rex and Drake Green.

Giani slowly pulls off his sunglasses and folds them up neatly.  As if he were afraid of breaking them, he gently sets them on the left arm of the throne.  He laces his fingers together and places them on his bare stomach.  The right side of his lips raises up into a half smile as he lets a small chuckle escape his lips.  He can’t contain it any longer as he flashes his pearly white teeth.  He lets out his signature obnoxious laugh before taking a deep breath to regain his composure.

Giani:  Some big guys who can talk a lot of sh*t from behind a computer screen or a cell phone.  Apparently I should be scared that they are gonna kick my ass.  With their three title belts between them, I probably should, right?  WRONG!  I spent half of my career with one of the very championships that Drake Green has around his waist right now.  I beat everyone they threw in my way, including former NWA World Heavyweight Champions.  I would still be the champ if I didn’t drop it to Magnum Randell to make the jump to SCW.  One motherf*ckin’ year later, I would be the most epic Empire State Champion in the history of BACW, and you would be shit, Drake.  You asked where my championship was, and it’s around ya waist dawg.  I don’t need it the way you do.  I don’t want it!

Giani leans forward, unlacing his fingers.  He points directly at the camera to emphasize his point.  His chest is puffed out as a showing of dominance.  He holds it there for a moment before easing up.  He leans back in his seat, lacing his fingers together once again.

Giani:  T-Wreck wouldn’t be the solid champion he is if I decided I really wanted the Roulette Championship.  I would annihilate anyone that stepped in my way.  But deep down, I knew that the title was beneath me, the same way I knew the Empire State Championship was beneath me.  I deserve only the best, and some cheap piece of crap belt just couldn’t do it for me.  I realized that there is no belt worthy of having my name on it, cause it ain’t never been held by anyone worthy of facin’ me.  I ain’t that charitable to just pick up any belt and think I’m hot shit for it.  I been there, done that, and proved my point.  So before either of you decide ya wanna throw it in my face that I ain’t a champion, look long and hard at those pieces of crap you put over ya shoulders, or around ya waists.  Then take a look at the cross chain I wear around my neck that is worth three times as much as all three of ya belts combined, and three times as famous too!

Giani raises his right hand up for just a second to flash the large, diamond encrusted cross pendant, tugging it away from his body and toward the camera.  He holds it there for everyone to inspect and then he lets it fall back to his chest.  He takes another sip from his Smart Water, spraying it into his open mouth.  He wipes at his lips as he lets out a refreshing sigh.

Giani:  Now, before I start talkin’ about my opponents, instead of just insultin’ their only braggin’ rights… let me address my partner.  Jericho Hill?  Why would the two of us work together, you are probably askin’ ya’self?  Why not?  I have been appointed King of Sin City.  I am royalty of the highest.  And Jericho Hill is freakin’ GOD!  It’s a match made in a twisted version of the Heaven most of us think of.  Kinda like the one from Supernatural…  Hey, don’t look at me like that!  We got the Goddess of the Dead and the Queen of the Damned here… Whatever, dawg…

Dean is chuckling behind him, but quickly covers his mouth when Giani snaps at him.  Dean turns his head so not to disrespect his King.  Giani shakes his head and rolls his eyes before returning to the camera.

Giani:  I can’t help it if even God has to admit that I’m the sh*t.  What can I say?  Guido problems, right?  As much as it “humbles” me to say this… Jericho Hill is pretty freakin’ awesome too.  The two of us will destroy the infidels and prove that they are nothin’.  I know it sounds like a crazy thing to claim, but that’s cause you idiots watchin’ this, shakin’ ya heads, just can’t see the obvious that is starin’ right at ya faces.  You are the same ones that believe a title matches you somethin’.  It is the champion that makes the championship.  When I find one worthy of my name, I will take it and make it the most valuable one in the world of professional wrestlin’.  The same goes for Jericho Hill.  Believe that sh*t dawg, seriously.

Giani nods his head as if giving his respects to his tag team partner for this week.  His playful expression has long faded, and now shit is about to get serious.  He leans up in his chair, placing his hands on his lap.  He thinks it over for a second before looking back to the camera, focusing his deep, dark brown eyes on it with intensity burning within them.

Giani:  T-Wreck… dawg… I clearly whooped ya ass last week.  It ain’t my fault you cheated “Primetime” Matthew Kennedy out of the Roulette Championship the week before.  You act like I asked them to jump in and make me look like a punk.  Do you honestly believe that someone as prideful as myself would ever ask someone who is… lets be honest… beneath me… to jump in and “save” me?  Obviously the answer is no, bro.  If you believe I did, then ya a bigger idiot than I ever thought, dawg.  Or… maybe ya knew it was the only way you could get outta that loss.  Any official loss I ever suffered was cause of some bullsh*t like that, but the difference is that I never did anything to deserve some jealous asshole jumpin’ into my affairs.  You did.  Erik Staggs sees that, and that’s why I am undefeated in SCW, cause he expunged any of those bullsh*t losses.  So get the delusion outta ya head that I would ever submit or lie on my back for ya under any circumstance.  Never in a million years, dawg.  True talk right there, and ya know it.

Giani softens his expression as he rests his body.  He holds onto the ends of the arms on the chair.  He runs his fingers over the small grooves, relaxing himself before he continues.

Giani:  When ya suck, I know it’s easy to wish ya didn’t.  Some people like you, T-Wreck… you believe that if ya wish hard enough, and believe it long enough, that you can do anythin’.  That’s a f*ckin’ fairytale, bro.  No matter how hard ya wish, no matter how hard ya believe, and no matter how many times ya watch Cinderella, it ain’t gonna happen.  That pumpkin head is still a pumpkin head.  Ya wrinkly ass is still a wrinkly ass.  Ya erectile dysfunction still requires some little blue pill, and ya still as old as dust.  Plain and simple.  Ya thinkin’ ya tough shit though cause Drake Green jumped in to defend ya.  Good for you, bro… I’m glad.  I really am.

Giani smiles once again, chuckling with the joys running through his mind now.  He nods his head as his posture slowly tenses up once again.  He looks dead center of the camera, silently staring with a devious look as he snarls his upper lip Elvis style.  He flicks his tongue playfully at the camera as his eyes widen.

Giani:  I’m gonna let ya in on a little secret, T-Wreck… You and Mister Smalltime are a perfect team.  See, you suck Thatcher Rex… You have a sucky ass title belt to glorify ya sucky ass career.  But Mr. Smalltime Drake Green has two sucky ass title belts to glorify his sucky ass career.  What does this mean?  It means he sucks twice as bad as you do.  As little as I respect you, T-Wreck… I respect Drake even less. Since I dropped the BACW Empire State Championship, it instantly lost face value.  And the more suck asses that handled it, the value was lost within months to the point where someone as piss poor as Drake Green has it now.  Such a shame, but it is the way it is.

Giani shrugs his shoulders, holding his arms out to his side as if he regrets saying this.  We know very well that he doesn’t, but he thinks he has us fooled anyway.

Giani:  Drake Green is the poster boy for kiss asses.  He is the champion of the indy federation owned by the guy who gives the breaks to the person who caresses his sack with the right grip while licking out his asshole, making it more and more obvious as time goes on.  You must be pretty f*ckin’ proud of ya’self, bro.  It must make ya feel real good that you can pledge allegiance to the man who screwed over his own World Champion.  As much as I detest Spike Staggs, he should have been given the opportunity to get destroyed by Nick Jones.  And you play into his game, Drake.  Well let me make somethin’ clear to ya.

Giani leans back quickly, cracking his back in the process.  He tilts his head to the side, popping his neck before leaning forward, cupping his hand over his mouth as if he were sharing a very private fact with Drake Green.

Giani:  This ain’t NWA rules where Batee gets to stroke ya off and make ya feel like the next big thing.  This is SCW rules where the best man wins.  I hate to break it to ya, but that ain’t you, Mr. Smalltime.  It ain’t ya partner T-Wreck.  It is The Reflection of Perfection and the true God… Giani Di Luca and Jericho Hill.  You are gonna find that out the hard way, dawg.  Come Sunday, I’m comin’ for ya.  I’m gonna show ya how SCW really does it.  I will prove that you were wrong about me.  I will prove that Thatcher Rex was wrong about me.  I will prove that Mr. Batee and any other NWA shit heads was wrong about me.  I am the face of greatness, and everyone will see this on Climax Control.  I will see you two there…

Giani places his sunglasses back on his face.  He slowly stands up from his throne, kicking the ottoman off to the side.  He holds his arms out to his side as Dean comes over to place the garb over his shoulders.  He ties it together around his neck and then sprays some water into Giani’s open mouth.  Giani swishes it around and then spits it on the floor before making his exit.  Dean follows behind with a towel, dropping it to the floor where he wipes the water up with his foot.  He walks to the edge of the room and pressing a button on the wall that turns everything to snow before fading to black.

{End Cut Scene}

{I got my speakers on, speakers on, speakers on… I got my speakers on wrecked}

{fin}

 {I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}

{Cut Scene}

We roll into the green room, a small closet-like space with green screen on the back wall, a microphone that is barely in the line of the shot, and a white director’s chair right in the middle.  The camera adjusts slightly so that you only see the image on the screen, which is the New York skyline, with the BACW logo layered over it.  Within seconds, “The Italian Stallion” Giani Di Luca comes walking onto the scene.  He is wearing a navy blue t-shirt with grey tattoo design all over it, a silver chain adorning an iced out cross, silver rim sunglasses, dark skinny jeans, and while we can’t see his feet at the moment, you just know the kid is rollin’ in fresh white sneakers.  C’MON!

Giani takes his time getting comfortable in the canvas chair, adjusting his body so that the camera gets a perfect angle.  (As if there was only one perfect angle, right?)  He looks at his reflection in the lens and adjusts any hair out of place, even though it doesn’t appear out of place to the naked eye.  He picks at his front teeth and then gives a thumbs up to the camera, leaning back.

Giani:  Here we are again, almost a year later, dawg.  So, so, so many things have changed since you last saw my perfectly chiseled ass in the Mid-Atlantic region, ey?  Some people’s grew smarter, some people’s got wiser.  Some people’s grew richer, or better lookin’, or healthier… You get my point don’t ya?

Giani leans back in his chair and props his right, sparkling fresh white sneaker on his left knee and he points his fingers together in contemplation.  He taps his index fingers together carefully as he thinks to himself.  A sly, cocky grin grows over his face and he looks to the camera once more with his signature obnoxious laugh.

Giani:  Of course them things is only true if you’re talkin’ about Giani Di Luca, am I right?  Of course I am cause I’m that guy; The Italian Stallion.  When I look in the mirror, I see the reflection of perfection.  Freakin’ A, bro.  You know what I’m sayin’, don’t ya?  Probably not cause half the people that watch BACW programmin’ is like half retarded or somethin’.  Hahahaha!

After another hearty chuckle Giani just shakes his head.  He leans forward as he takes in a purposely strained breath for emphasis, causing a very audible deep squeak.  He exhales the breath and then rolls his eyes.

Giani:  Okay, that ain’t fair of me to say.  Not all of the audience is half retarded.  Most, but not all.  Ya got ya skeez balls, perverts jerkin’ it to Vixen matches in their mother’s basement, The Spectre’s imaginary friends, and people who can relate to E.D.  I would list Jamie Staggs, but he falls into the retard department.  So why the fuck would someone as talented, strong, intelligent, smart, and down right freakin’ sexy such as myself wanna sign up for ANYTHING with the label of BACW?

Giani stares.  He does nothing else but stare blankly into the camera for nearly a full minute.  It would appear that nothing is going on upstairs, but a quiver in the bottom left side of his mouth where a smile is trying to break through lets us know otherwise.

Giani:  It’s because I want the world to know that I changed.  I ain’t that kid who rolls around, makin’ people laugh, fist pumpin’ to get the fans goin’, bein’ somebody’s lackey bitch boy like I was in 2012.  I ain’t the pathetic little boy that got the fuck beat outta him by some vampire chick at the last King of the Deathmatch Tournament.  I’m harder, better, faster, and stronger than I was when you last watched me perform.  I was a rookie then, but I learned some lessons thanks to our World Heavyweight Champion, Spike Staggs.  I learned to look out for myself, cause no one else is gonna do it for me.  I learned how to go in for the kill, and take what I want, when I want, and I want to be crowned 2013 King of the Deathmatch.  I’m goin’ in for it, and nobody is gonna be able to stop me… You can’t touch me, bro…

Giani points out at the camera giving a cocky smirk and wink as we fade in.

{End Cut Scene}

{King of SWAG!}

A lot of people who don’t pay much attention to Sin City Wrestling news have this image in their heads of Giani Di Luca.  They picture “The Italian Stallion” hustling the crowd for cheers, and his opponents for victories.  He held the BACW Empire State Championship for nearly six months!  They remember his boyish charm from his times on the show Fuhgeddaboudit, hitting up Club Karma with his housemates, drinking ungodly amounts of alcohol, and training with his friend, Teddy.  Some might even remember the day NWA World Heavyweight Champion, Spike Staggs, took the young steed under his wing with promises of taking him to the top.  Giani Di Luca put on that New X-Tremes t-shirt and he faded off in the distance.  Not much could change within a year, right?


We fade in to see Giani Di Luca lying under the white sheets of his bed with a bundle of wadded up blankets on the bed next to his unconscious body.  He is snoring away with his hands tucked behind his head.  His hair is a mess as the midday sun creeps up around the corner of the blinds.  He winces a bit, but just tilts his head over to the side as his snores fade out.  His lips move a bit as a hand slides up from under the sheets.  It caresses his chest before working over to his silver nipple ring, twisting it suddenly.  A form slowly creeps from under the wads of blankets and works up his legs until a head stops right at his hips.  Two more hands work up from the side as the giggling of a woman is heard during the moans of another.  Giani sighs as he tilts his head to the other side.  His dark eyes flutter open and a smile works over his face.  He chuckles as one blonde girl comes up from under the covers.  She leans up to kiss him, but his eyes get narrow as he laughs.

Giani:  Ya breath still smells like my {BEEP} for real.  What, you didn’t brush ya damn teeth er somethin’?

Blonde:  We thought you would like a wake up {BEEP} baby.

Giani maneuvers his hips a bit as an annoyed grunt comes from under the sheets.  A brunette comes from under the covers with a look that asks “What gives?”  She is ready to verbalize her question when Giani looks at her as if she were the dumbest person on Earth.  He waits for her to realize something, but then realizes he would be waiting forever if he did that.  He leans in and sniffs the brunettes breath and then does his signature laugh.

Giani:  Either you both are some nasty ass Jersey skanks who don’t own a toothbrush, or ya forgot the Golden Rule of riding the Stallion, which is…

Both girls look at each other confused as Giani waits once more to see if they had a brain cell amongst the two of them.  The blonde twirls her hair around her fingers while the brunette does a breath check, completely ignoring his request for an answer.  He raises his eyebrows, moving his two fingers around in a circle as if it would help them figure it out quicker.  Finally he just shakes his head.

Giani:  I didn’t think girls could be any more stupid than they are in Vegas, but then I come back to Jersey and realize they can get a lot skankier, and a lot more stupid!  I ain’t ringin’ either of your fingers.  I ain’t buyin’ ya roses and diamonds and f*ckin’ chocolates.  I ain’t datin’ ya, so why the f*ck would I want to wake up to see two sluts sleepin’ in my bed?  NO OVERNIGHTS!

The girls look angered by Giani’s words, as they stare at him.  He glares at both of them for what seems like a minute before he slowly starts pointing to the door.  They follow his direction, but roll their eyes as the blonde almost starts giggling.  They think he is joking as they both go in for a kiss.  Giani forcefully points at the door and then screams at the top of his lungs in a booming voice.

Giani:  THAT WAS YA CUE TO GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!  HIT THE ROAD SKANKS! DON’T LET THE DOOR HIT YA ASS ON THE WAY OUT!

Blonde:  You’re a’ asshole!

The girls both look at him and then promptly slap him before collecting their clothing.  They whisper to each other while glaring back at him as they work toward the door.  Giani gently cups his hand and raises it above his head, moving it from side to side in a sarcastic wave.

Giani:  Thanks for takin’ my {BEEP}, it was fun, you was amazin’, and all that bullshit you ladies like hearin’.  Tell ya friends, but don’t come back…  Cab number is printed on the doorway.  Don’t thank me, I know I’m a f*ckin’ sweetheart…

They slam the door closed behind them and Giani pulls his underwear back up around his waist.  He pulls the sheets off of him and picks up a pair of Adidas shorts from next to his bed.  He pulls them up and stretches his hands up above his head as he yawns.  He is startled when the door flies open and an excited James Huntington-Hawkes III comes running in to the room.  He is practically jumping up and down as he skids to a stop in front of Giani who raises an eyebrow at his friend.

JHHIII:  Dude!  She let me play with her boobies!

Giani has just gotten over the shock of James barging in when he drops this bombshell of a surprise on him.  Giani blinks for a second as his jaw drops.  A split second later, he starts laughing.  James stops his bouncing and looks a little confused at Giani’s reaction.  He almost looks a little angered by the reaction he receives, but Giani pulls him away from the door for a second.

Giani:  Yo, dawg… play it cool bro.  I’mma take a guess that you let her stay the night cause I still smell rotten fish, and I know we ain’t in South America no more, right?

JHHIII:  No, but close.  We’re in New Jersey, and that’s only like a fraction better than South America.  But what is your point?

Giani:  My point is that you don’t ever, EVER ring nothin’ that comes out of New Jersey, or even somethin’ that is close enough to Jersey.  Ya wrap it, ya stick it, and ya send it on back to the sewer.  If you let a girl spend the night, then they think they’re ya girlfriend or somethin’.  Then they want ya money, and clothes that cover their asses and breasts, and then all of the fun is over, and ya broke.

James looks at Giani for a second and then contemplates what his friend is telling him.  He grimaces at the idea, but then thinks back to the fun he had over night with his “special friend” for the evening.  He looks around at the nice things Giani has in his home, and for New Jersey, it really is quite nice.  He looks back into Giani’s eyes in all seriousness.

JHHIII:  Broke, broke? Like, MC Hammer broke?

Giani:  Yeah buddy… So broke ya gotta rely on royalties from “make that motherf*cker Hammer Time” and a McDonald’s wage to survive.

James falls down to his knees and looks up at the ceiling as we move in overhead.  He raises his fists in the air as if he had heard that all babies and puppies had just been executed.

JHHIII:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Giani holds onto his ears and just raises an eyebrow as he looks over to the camera.  He waits for James’ pained cry to stop for nearly a minute until he just yanks James back up to a standing position.  James clears his throat and then looks back to Giani with his excited expression on his face.

JHHIII:  I’m glad I realized you aren’t like all of those disgusting poor people who normally wrestle.  Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look out for me like this.  I don’t want to become… like them…

Giani:  Nobody around here realizes that we are the only ones who matter around… well, anywhere.  That’ll make it easier for us to climb to the top.  Hell, nobody expected me to beat Frost last week, but what did I do?  I massacred him.  I shit on his whole life, bro.  Nobody thought I could do it, but I did, and I didn’t even break a f*ckin’ sweat, dawg.

JHHIII:  You could have fooled me… “bro”… When you came back to the Team Erik locker room, you smelled like a dirty meatball and…

Without any kind of warning, Giani promptly smacks the Brat Prince across the back of the head, making him rub it tenderly while glaring at Giani.  Giani shakes his head slowly before reaching down to pick up a pair of black and white Adidas shorts and slipping them on.  He walks over toward the door, rushing James along with him.  They are met by James’ bodyguard/servant, Simpson.  The tall, bald-headed man-beast stands there, mild mannered as usual, with two glasses of orange juice on a serving plate, heading toward Giani’s room.  Thanklessly both men snatch the glasses from the plate and take a few sips as they continue down the long, naturally lit corridor with a beachside view.

Giani:  Like I was sayin’ before you used a dirty slur about my people…

JHHIII:  Are you being serious right now?  I watched Jersey Shore for five minutes once, and they called each other meatballs like ten times.

Giani:  It’s only alright when we call each other that, bro.  Anyway, would you let me get to my point already?  I was about to say that everyone thinks we are some kind of a joke.  I don’t know if they are in like some kind of denial or somethin’, or if they are just jealous cause I look better crawlin’ outta bed at the crack of noon than they do when they get all did up, but clearly they don’t get it.  There are only three people that matter in the entire NWA.  Misty, you, and myself… Do ya see where I’m goin’ with this?

James nods his head as they continue on toward the balcony door.  He is suddenly overcome with confusion and stops just short of the door, and then shakes his head.

JHHIII:  No… No I don’t.

Giani:  What do people call Misty?

JHHII:  A pasty-faced bitch?

Giani tries hard not to laugh, covering his mouth to keep his reaction concealed.  He shakes his head from side to side, nearly choking on his laughter.  James slides the door open and they walk out onto the large balcony, taking a seat in the lounge chairs set up to overlook the beach.  James thinks it over more carefully before responding.

JHHIII:  Well obviously it has to be something about being either pale or a bitch, because nobody ever says anything else about her except maybe that she’s a lesbian?  Hey wait a minute… Are you coming out to me, because I don’t think I swing that way…

Giani:  Jesus f*ckin’ Christ, bro… What I was gettin’ at is that she is known as The Queen of the Damned.  Now, what do they call you?

Giani kicks his bare feet up onto the lounge chair before taking a sip from his orange juice.  James’ eyes widen and then he seems to get it.  He mimics Giani’s pose, trying to look cool as he takes a sip from his orange juice as well.

JHHIII:  I don’t even want to repeat half of the lies they tell about me, but you are probably getting at me being the Brat Prince, right?

Giani:  Yeeeeah buddy!

James nods his head is if some sort of music was playing to up his swag, but it just isn’t quite working.  Giani raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head from side to side.  James quickly stops and passively drinks from his orange juice.  His eyes wander around the waves of the ocean, as they seem to mesmerize him.  Suddenly he realizes something.

JHHIII:  I know that you are a kick ass wrestler, but what is the connection between the three of us?

Giani:  Look, bro… the answer is gonna come up and smack ya in the face.  Brat Prince… Queen of the Damned… And on May 30th, I will be KING of the Deathmatch.

As if the secret to life had just been revealed to James, his eyes widen and he lets out an audible “Ohhhhhhhhh…” and then he nods his head and points at Giani after clicking his jaw.  Giani gets a cocky smirk on his face and his signature laugh escapes his lips.  James tries to mimic the laugh, but it is an epic fail, causing Giani to groan, shaking his head as we fade out.


{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}

{Cut Scene}

We return to the green room where Giani sits in the black canvas chair.  He is wearing his sunglasses, and his black Italian Stallion tank top proudly.  He is leaned back in his chair, looking comfortable with his hands laced behind his head and a smile on his face.

Giani:  So tonight, I got a “special meetin’” with The Queen of the Damned, Misty.  We’re gonna walk around the Boardwalk, and I’m gonna lay it on thick so she has no choice but to give in.  I’m viewin’ this as more of a challenge now.  Of course I’m diggin’ her, but it’s even more incentive to win on account of my pride now.  I ain’t never been turned down by a girl that was into guys.  Hell, I even turned some chicks who was lesbionic.

Giani leans forward, flipping his glasses onto his forehead.  His eyes are lit up with determination and excitement all at once.  He laughs a little in a nervous manner.

Giani:  What can I say?  I’m just that good at what I do.  Ain’t no shame in my game.  Besides, I could use some stress relief going into this tournament cause I wouldn’t wanna slip up and make a mistake cause I noticed the bubbies on the broad in the third row behind the time table who is cheerin’ for the other guy.  Get my mind off of it, and there is no way I won’t win this.

Giani shrugs his shoulders and puts his hands out to the side as if he realizes he can’t help but be honest.  He flashes his perfectly white smile at the camera and arches his brows innocently.

Giani:  It never fails.  Take some broad on the Boardwalk, win her a stuffed bear shootin’ some hoops, show her my impressive Ski Ball skills, take her on the Ferris Wheel, and it’s a done deal, panties is hittin’ my bedroom floor.  It’s like an unwritten rule or somethin’…  We’ll see, cause this one is a tough nut to bust… er crack I mean.  Yeah, that’s it…  Hahaha!

Giani laughs for quite a while, obviously with a few drinks in him as this point.  He moves forward with a pimp lean for emphasis of his confidence.  Giani’s laughter fades as does the cut scene.

{End Cut Scene}

{That’s Amore! (Part II)}

“Die Young” by Ke$ha pans in as we get a shot of the Jersey Shore Boardwalk from a distance.  The moon doesn’t compare to all of the lights of the various attractions that seem to glow almost as bright as a little shard of Vegas.  The water ripples against the wooden walkway as we switch to the Boardwalk itself.  Standing in front of the Ferris Wheel, Giani Di Luca is looking mint in his fresh white sneakers, tight fitting jeans white tattoo design climbing up the left leg, and a tribal tattoo design tank top to show off his massive arms.  He pops his iced out chain, and despite the lack of sun, he is wearing his signature cross designed sunglasses.  He leans against the red railing leading to the gate of the Ferris Wheel, checking out some of the fine pieces that walk by.  He lifts up his sunglasses as he enjoys one specifically, a fiery redhead wearing almost nothing but some torn jean shorts and a shirt that hardly qualifies as one.  He narrows his eyes and puckers his lips as he sighs in delight.  She looks back at him with a wink as she shakes it on her way out of the shot.  Giani doesn’t do the chase because he gets chased enough as it is.  He plays it cool and glances on down the Boardwalk.  Sticking out like a sore thumb, The Queen of the Damned saunters through the crowds of people.  Her duster jacket swings against her stocking-clad legs leading up to a modest (for the Shore) black skirt adorned with a silver skull and purple ruby eyes as a belt buckle.  A leather corset with purple lace seems to push everything up front, and Giani mouths “Daaaaamn…”  He tries to look as if he hasn’t noticed her, but the half smile on her face lets up know he failed.

Giani fans his face with a wad of cash, as if that would impress Misty.  She walks up to him and pulls it out of her hands and tosses it behind her, letting it rain down to the ground.  She rolls her eyes as Giani mimics this.

Giani:  You didn’t even try to blend in, did ya? Hahahaha!

Misty looks around at the various skanks and unkempt women walking around in half beachwear, and half Real Jersey Housewives and she nearly gags.  She gives him a playful shove as Giani almost looks surprised at her actions.

Misty:  How do I say it politely…?  Hell f*cking no!

Giani:  C’mon!!! It ain’t even half that bad.  You got the right amount of ass to pull it off, girl.

Misty almost looks offended as she gives him another shove.  Giani shrugs and laugh his obnoxious laugh before giving her a playful shoulder nudge that sends her back a few inches.  She slaps his shoulder and adjusts her jacket to conceal her perfectly balanced backside.  She shoots him a devious glare before leaning against the railing next to Giani.  She looks down at her feet, feeling something slippery underneath her boots, only to notice that someone had thrown up right where she stands.  Her face twists in disgust.

Misty:  Nice… Why did we come to this dump again?  I thought Vegas was a pit of filth, but the second I stepped onto the Boardwalk, I was hit with the stench of fake Noir and urine.

Giani:  It’s all about where ya roots are sometimes.  I grew up here, and even though I got a taste of the good life, I gotta remember where I came…

Giani’s attention is taken away as a tall, slender blonde walks right by them.  His eyes follow her clear across the boardwalk.  He is only brought back to reality when he feels Misty’s icy stare resting on him.  She puts her hands on her hips as her expression turns back into a devious smile.

Misty:  Yeah, I’m sure this was a noble trip, wasn’t it?  You wanted to show me that you grew up around drunken skanks and steroid obsessed metrosexual men, right?  Mission accomplished, Giani.

Giani:  C’mon, dawg…  It is the perfect place for you.

Misty:  I’m intrigued, because I couldn’t possibly fathom how that could be even the slightest bit true.

Giani points around the entire Boardwalk very slowly so that Misty can follow along with his guidance.  She takes a second slow look over her surroundings, and she still doesn’t quite get it.  She looks up to him for some sort of explanation.

Giani:  Look at the vanity.  Look at the lust.  Look at the ignorance, the violence, and the lies…  It is a breedin’ ground for sin.  It’s almost sickenin’ how perfect this place is for you, and for “her”.  And it is my humble beginnin’.

Misty:  I guess I didn’t think of that.  I do feel charged here.  The vanity alone is intoxicating.

Giani:  Every Queen needs a King.  Once I am King of the Deathmatch, I will fit kinda nicely next to a Queen like you.

Misty:  Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself there, Mr. Di Luca?  I mean, you haven’t even won the tournament yet.

Giani looks over at her slowly and points up at his hair with both of his index fingers, his thumbs pointing up in the air.  He runs his fingers down until they point at his toes.  He then holds his hands out to the side with his cocky smirk as if to say “C’MON!!!”  He nods his head as Misty’s eyes travel down his perfect form.

Giani:  I’m the Italian Stallion, baby; the Reflection of Perfection.  I’m gonna win this thing without a doubt, “Ms. Waters”.  I mean, look who is standin’ in my way of the first round.  Is that really what they think of me in the NWA office?  Becky “Ragdoll” Jones?  And the rest of the tournament ain’t much better.

Misty:  Nobody realizes exactly who you are.  The one person who should know your level of talent is Mr. Batee since you worked for him back then.  Soon they will realize exactly who you are.  But it won’t be easy…

Giani:  I don’t expect it to be easy.  Hell, last year I was dropped outta the first round by Gothika in the biggest upset of my career.  I came ready this year.  No Mr. Nice Guy attitude to hold me back.  No qualms about hittin’ a girl, cause she is brave enough to step in the ring against me.  That tournament won’t be able to handle my swag.

Misty doesn’t want to admit it, but his level of sheer confidence, and lack of a moral base makes Giani seem that much more appealing to her.  It is no secret that neither one is the other’s type, but that makes it feel even more inevitable.  Both do their best to resist, seeing which one will crack first.  In the meantime, Giani gets what seems to be a brilliant idea.  He holds up a finger in Misty’s direction and pulls his phone out of his pocket.  He does a few keystrokes on it before sliding it back in his pocket.

Giani:  I had an idea for a nice little evenin’ on the Boardwalk, but it’s obvious you ain’t into the Jersey charm of vomit and funnel cake.  Let’s say we take this back to my place?

Misty looks appalled by Giani’s direct approach and she scowls at him, highly displeased.  She grumbles something under her breath, before glaring right at him.

Misty:  I don’t know what you are used to “Mr Di Luca”, but I am not some easy Jersey Shore reject harlot, and…

Giani:  Whoa, whoa, whoooooa there.  Hold up.  That ain’t what I was gettin’ at.  I thought I could give ya a real taste of the Shore minus the puke under ya shoes.  I can show you my world, and you can show me yours.

Misty thinks it over carefully before nodding her head.  Giani takes her by the hand as they walk across the boardwalk.  Everyone stares at the odd duo, but neither one really seems to care much as they disappear into the crowd.

An Hour Later

We pan around Giani’s beachside home, catching the breath taking unique design.  It is white brick all around with white Roman style pillars holding up the balcony and the awnings over the doors, as well as the corners of the rectangular two story home.  A black Escalade sits outside of the garage next to the front door.  MTV Cribs style, we move inside the home, finding a more circular feel than the outside would suggest.  The living room looks like a pimped out version of a lion’s den, white pillars leading up to the ceiling with a nice view of the moon, furnished with a white sectional couch.  We move up the nearby spiral staircase to get to the second story, heading into the master bedroom, which seems to be set up more like a Hollywood dressing room times ten.  There are two silhouette curtains hanging up as two stylists stand on each side, handing clothes to the two presumably nude figures on either side.  A generic looking man, brown hair, goatee, glasses, and a black turtle neck, stands on the side with the Adonis-like silhouette, handing a variety of black clothing items to him.  The other side shows a blonde woman with a variety of rejected clothing items thrown around her feet.

Misty:  Is this your idea of sexy?  I think you need to leave the strip club that is your mind and enter the real world, Giani.

Giani:  Hey now, I’m bein’ a good sport about all this.  I feel just as awkward as you do…

Misty:  Might I remind you that this was YOUR idea?  I hope you don’t expect me to go out in public like this…

Giani:  I hope you don’t expect me to say we ain’t!  Yeah buddy, you better believe we are.

Misty groans on one side of the curtain.  She snatches some sort of black and tan fabric from the female stylist.  She pulls it on over her head as the stylist steps in to help her adjust it.  She growls at the lady as she mutters something inaudible to her.  The lady holds her hands up in surrender and walks from behind the curtain.  Giani giggles as he hears it.  He takes a box from the stylist and opens it, laughing louder this time.

Giani:  Ohhh you gotta me kiddin’ me.  Are these even for dudes?  Seriously, do dudes wear stuff like this?  I feel like Alice Cooper and Edward Cullen defied physics and had a baby. Hahahah!

Misty:  So basically, you look like Goth? If I knew you were going to subject me to this, I would have made you wear platforms, so consider yourself lucky!

Giani laughs out loud once again, though kind of nervously.  Misty straightens out her clothing and sighs as a make up artist steps into view, walking over to her with large black make up pallet and a brush.  She quickly goes to work, dabbing and brushing in rapid succession.  Giani takes a deep breath when the male stylist nods his head.  Giani shakes his head as he walks out.  He is wearing a pair of tight leather pants with a pyramid studded belt and a torn fishnet shirt.  In place of his fresh white sneakers, he is wearing combat boots.  In place of his iced out cross necklace is a variety of chains, the largest one sports a gothic cross that barely hangs down to his chest, and a leather studded choker.  However, the clothing is only half of it, as he looks like he jumped into a bag of flour, with thick black eyeliner and black lipstick.  His hair is colored black with white streaks, done into short liberty spikes.  He takes a look into a mirror and his eyes widen, but not quite as wide as his mouth.

Giani:  Shut the f*ck up, bro… I look like shit! Where’s my perfect tan?!

Misty:  Again, it was YOUR idea, Giani…  I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.

The make up artist steps out with a smile before nodding to Giani.  Giani reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet that is attached to a chain and he tosses bills out at them and then silently waves them off to dismiss them from the room.  After they leave, Giani crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot impatiently.

Giani:  Well?  When do I get to see ya looking fabulicious?

Misty suddenly pushes the curtain out of the way angrily and Giani lets out a shocked squeak from his throat.  Misty is wearing black pumps with very high heels, a leopard print mini dress that leaves little to the imagination, and her hair is done up with a large Bump It up top as the rest waves down over her shoulders with leopard hair extensions blended in.  She is spray tanned from head to toe, but due to her very fair skin tone, she looks orange.  Her make up is overdone with long eyelashes added in.  She matches his pose, crossing her arms over her chest as she stands awkwardly.  Giani tries to contain it, but he is actually liking the result.

Giani:  You are the queen of DAAAAAMN tonight, Misty.  Haha.

Misty:  I look… like I’m covered… in… Cheetos dust…  Besides, what are you laughing at?  You look just as ridiculous as I do.

Giani:  I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about… I’m lookin’ fresh to death and you know it…

Giani lets out his laugh as he pulls Misty by the arm.  She tries not to budge, but he simply does not allow her to sit still.  She picks up a leopard print handbag on her way out as she nearly trips from the heels.  Giani intends to show her how it’s done in Jersey, and he won’t stop until she beats up her first beat!


{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}

{Added Protection}

“Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO is playing inside of the infamous Jersey club… Club Karma.  Inside, the blue lights glow over the forming crowds.  With season starting, things are getting pretty hectic in there.  Once Giani Di Luca comes into the club, things get even more crazy.  The former cast of Fuhgeddaboudit has reunited for the opening of the club, and they weren’t sure if Giani would show.  Upon his arrival, he is met by a huge round of cheers, something he hasn’t heard in a long time.  He is also met with more booze than he can handle.  Giani wraps his arms around his old buddies Tony and Louie, slapping their backs hard as he lets out his former party boy roar.  The crowds go nuts as Giani downs three consecutive shots before walking over to the bar.  The party has officially begun now as the cast takes center stage.  Bianca and Candy dance on each other Jersey style, grinding upon one another to the amusement of the audience.  The guys pump their fists dominantly before leaning down, throwing their fists toward the ground.  Giani gets rowdy as he circles around the group, instantly stealing the spotlight from his former cast.  As the song comes to a close, Giani gives them all a look of disgust, leaving the dance floor.  Tony quickly follows after Giani, looking as if he is ready for a confrontation.  As Giani walks toward the stairs to the upper level, Tony whips his around and gets in his face.

Tony: Yo dawg, what’s up with the mean mug?

Giani shrugs his shoulders and then “accidentally” bumps into Tony, giving him a challenging look.  He stands his ground, refusing to back up.

Giani: Bro… It’s just like on the show.  No matter how many of you’s there was, the spotlight was always on me.  I left the show, and it got cancelled like immediately, kid.

Tony:  Seriously, bro?  You gonna dawg ya friends like that?

Giani gets up in Tony’s face with his cocky smirk, almost looking sadistic at this point.  His nostrils grow in size as he breathes in heavily.  He pauses there for a second, letting the intimidation set in.

Giani:  I’m done bein’ the nice kid who lets everyone walk all over him.  I was done when I left that dumb ass show and all of you losers.  I just didn’t realize it yet.  You wanted me out of the house, so I left.  You can’t shove ya lips up my ass and expect me to forgive ya like that, bro.  It ain’t happenin’…

Tony:  Dawg, dawg, dawg… listen to me.  It wasn’t even like that.  We didn’t…

Giani:  Save ya busted ass excuses, cause I’m done lookin’ at ya busted ass face.  Bow down before ya KING, or get the f#@& outta here, bro…

Tony is ready to plead his case when Giani leans back and quickly Headbutts Tony, unbeknownst to his adoring hometown fans.  He spits in Tony’s face before turning around and walking up the steps.  Tony shouts at him, but it doesn’t do any good.  Giani just shakes his head in disgust, licking his thumb as he fixes his perfect eyebrows.  When he gets to the upper level, across the room, he sees Erik Staggs sitting there with an older gentleman.  Giani looks a little confused as he walks over toward Erik.  Once he arrives, Erik stands up to greet Giani.  He extends his hand toward Giani, but Giani hits a sarcastic fist bump before sliding past him.

Giani:  Look, dawg… It’s bad enough that I hang out with your ancient dinosaur ass, but if I gotta hang out with two guys from the retirement home, it’s really gonna kill my creds.

The other man sitting in the booth scowls at Giani, spitting on the ground as a reaction to the disrespect.  He uses his thumb to rub the excess from his lip.  His salt and pepper hair is slicked back, but feathered out in some sort of mature Spike Staggs fashion.  Giani raises an eyebrow as the man lifts his sunglasses up.  His fiery brown eyes threaten to burn a hole through Giani as he flicks his wrist to show off a white gold Rolex watch.

Giani:  Seriously… This guy looks like my dad tryin’ to be cool.  Did you borrow him from Joanne Canelli er somethin’?  A hot young piece like that should be surrounded by some gorillas, not dinosaur fossils.

Man:  If you wanna keep disrespectin’ me, we’re gonna have problems really quick, boy…

Giani waves his hands up as if he were scared, but his face tells a different story.  He rolls his eyes and then looks to Erik, pointing back with his thumb as if to ask if this guy were serious.  The man reaches over quickly and hyper extends Giani’s thumb just enough to get his point across.

Erik:  *Ahem* Giani Di Luca, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine from the wrestling world…  Dean Lombardo.  We go way back.  Bitter enemies in the ring, but one helluva drinking buddy backstage, right?

Dean:  I had to down drinks to deal with this guy.  You kept buyin’ and I became an alcoholic.  So’s if ya wanna call that a friendship, then it is what it is.

Erik:  Funny, I was thinking the same thing…  You’re a real jackass Dino.

Dean:  Ey yo betta watch it, callin’ me that in public an all

Giani:  Hahaha where’s ya buddy Fred?  Did Wilma lock him out again, or is he busy lookin’s for Bam Bam?

Dean looks at Giani  and he is definitely not amused, even though is the only one lacking the sentiment at the table.  Dean puts his Samuel Adams bottle to his lips, sipping on it while most likely seething on the inside.

Erik:  I figured with everything going on right now within SCW, and the King of the Deathmatch, along with Lord of the Rings… it would be best if one of my top male stars had someone watching his back to avoid any other screwjobs.

Giani:  Oh yeah, I understand.  My only question is… why’d ya bring ole Dino here to the party.  Is he gonna be like my bodyguard or somethin’?

Erik:  Well… more or less, that was the plan.

Giani laughs, waiting for Erik to join along for a hearty laugh.  He slows his down to allow Erik time to catch up, and then realizes the laugh isn’t coming.  Erik sits down in the booth next to Giani, trapping him in between, and Giani shakes his head from side to side.  Dean pulls a cigar from his pocket, lighting it in frustration.  He puffs on it as Giani’s reaction is heard.

Giani: Nope, nuh uh… ain’t happenin’ bro.  I don’t need some washed up, flabby, former gorilla watchin’ my back.  I’m better off askin’ James to accompany me to the ring.

Dean:  Look here ya little prick…

Dean violently taps the end of his cigar, letting the ashes fall on top of Giani’s head.  Giani’s eyes widen as he brushes them out of his hair angrily.  He turns with a deadly glare to the much smaller Dean, but Dean is quick to press an index finger against Giani’s lips to quiet him down.

Dean:  I’m a former one time Gateway Championship Wrestling Heavyweight Champion…

Giani:  Oh yeah, that’s impressive…

Dean:  I’m a one time champion cause I held the belt for two years, until I exited the company.  I’ve faced some world class athletes and left them on their backs or beggin’ me to stop kickin’ their asses. Capisco puttana?

Giani:  Hold up, dawg.  Nobody’s gonna call me a bitch and get away with it… “Capisco”?

Giani turns to face the man, but he doesn’t back down.  Both men glare at each other when Giani raises a fist.  Dean gets a cocky smirk on his face, almost begging Giani to take a swing.  Erik grabs onto it, throwing it back to his side before clearing his throat loudly.

Erik:  Let’s cool it.  You Italians and your fiery tempers, I swear.  Giani, you are intended to benefit from my ring experience for training and learning the ropes.  In my absence, I have provided you with someone who is almost as qualified as me…

Dean:  Ey!

Giani:  I’m telling ya that I don’t need the help.

Erik:  And I’m telling you that you do.  You are impressive, but my nephew really lacked in training you.  You are no better or more disciplined than you were when you entered SCW.  Plus, it never hurts to have someone in your corner to back you up.  Why don’t you tell us a little about your experience, Dean.  We all know you like talking about yourself… Something else the two of you have in common!

Erik tries to turn his comment into something positive, and it should have failed, but both men seem to use it to form a foundation for understanding each other.  Dean’s smile fades as he taps the end of his cigar to his side.  He takes a big sip from his beer bottle before leaning back in his seat to puff his chest out.

Dean:  Don’t know if it matters much to the young blood, but I served in the US Army for five years where I learned combat trainin’… While I was there, I got stacked like a brick shit house.  For fun, I picked up Greco-Roman skills before getting discharged for certain confidential matters.

Erik:  You beat the crap outta a superior officer…

Dean:  I said confidential, Erik… He banged my wife behind my back.  Anyway, I entered pro-wresslin’ where I developed my technical skills.  Travelled down to Mexico where I learned a little Lucha, not much but some.  I really learned my shit when I went to Japan and shadowed some top names like Hayabusa and El Samurai.  I stayed there about six years before I met ya uncle in St. Louis.  To keep in shape, I have studied a few different martial arts like Brazilian Jui Jitsu and kickboxin’ just to stay in shape.

Giani seems to be rethinking his stance now.  While he had a distinct size advantage over Dean, he wouldn’t want to really get on his bad side either.  He almost seems like a young child listening to a war story from a grandfather figure.  Erik smiles, patting Giani on the back before standing up from the booth.  He walks off toward the stairs to allow them time to get to know each other.

Dean:  Work was slow, so I got into the security field.  Erik called in a favor, so it looks like I’m stuck wipin’ your ass, kiddo.  Life’s a bitch, ey?

Giani:  Oh yeah?  What if I say no?  Sure, you got some impressive skills, but I said it before and I will say it again… I don’t need nobody’s help.  I can take care of myself.

Dean pulls the glasses off of his forehead and slides them in his open black dress shirt.  He leans forward, stretching the charcoal grey jacket out just a little to show some definition on his smaller frame.  He takes another puff of the cigar, exhaling the smoke right in Giani’s face.

Dean:  Look, I think you are some cocky pup, still wet behind the ears.  Under all of that hair glue and spray, I think you got a brain.  Might not be the biggest, but it’s somethin’ you obviously ain’t usin’.  Don’t be stupid, kiddo.  You could find some big dumb gweed who is stacked with muscles but don’t know a German Suplex from a German chocolate cake.  I’m sure some dumb shit out there might buy it, but anyone with half a brain could see there ain’t nothin’ really scary about that.  Look at Casey Williams for Christ sake…

Giani:  I guess there are a lot of jealous people out there who ain’t even half as good as I am.  They might not wanna see me win the King of the Deathmatch tournament cause then they would all see that I belong at the top.  They would see that Erik was right, and they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

Dean:  There ya go, kiddo.  That’s what I was hopin’ you would understand.  We could both benefit from this little arrangement.  I get to pay for my ex wife and her handicapped ex-staff sergeant boyfriend’s annual trip to Cancun and you get one of the best bodyguards money can buy.

Dean leans back against the booth, stretching out as he puts his arms over the back of the booth.  He blows out one last cloud of smoke before dropping the cigar to the ground.  He stomps it out as the thick cloud of smoke bellows out of his mouth.  He chases it with the last of his beer as Giani nods his head while thinking to himself.

Giani:  A lot of people remember me losin’ to a broad in the first round of this tournament last year.  I think they might know I’m ready and try to make me repeat the same mistake against Becky “Ragdoll” Jones this year.  I’m determined to massacre her and move along to the finals of this damn thing.  I will win it, cause there ain’t a damn person out there who can stop me, bro.

Dean:  Well, even if there was, there ain’t nobody out there who can beat the both of us together, if ya catch my drift, son?

Giani slowly looks over to Dean and a smile grows over both of their faces simultaneously.  Both men share a laugh before exchanging a loud palm slap followed by a firm handshake.  Erik Staggs comes back to the table with a round of drinks in his hands.  He seems surprised at how well they are getting along and he sighs in relief before joining in on their laugh.

Giani:  YEEEEEEAH buddy!

Erik sets the drinks down in front of Giani and Dean while taking his own glass of wine to his lips.  He seems to be laughing the loudest in between sips as he claps his hands together.  The three men huddle in to discuss strategy as we fade one last time.


{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}

{Cut Scene}

As we come into the green room one last time, we not only see Giani sitting in his usual spot, dead center in front of the camera, but Dean is standing off to the side, only half way in view of the camera.  His sunglasses are down over his eyes and his arms are crossed over his chest.  He watches on as Giani sits in a very contemplative position.  His fingers are laced together except his index fingers.  He taps them together slowly as he sits there silently for a moment.  He finally breaks his silence with a very calm demeanor.

Giani:  I will get the respect I deserve.  When I walk out to that ring, people are gonna boo the hell outta me.  I get it, people hate me.  But then, when I beat Becky “Ragdoll” Jones and show her why it was the biggest mistake of her life to sign up for this tournament, people will pay closer attention.  I will go on to beat Spectre, cause he is obviously gonna beat DJ.  He came from the same place I did, so of course BACW is gonna overcome this.  Sadly, it don’t matter where ya from when you come up against the Stampede or the Jersey Turnpike.  Then, every other stupid sonuvabitch who thought they stood a chance against the likes of The Italian Stallion, the Reflection of Perfection… they’re gonna learn the same lesson as Becky and Specky…

Giani’s voice doesn’t change as he leans back in his seat.  He adjusts himself to get comfortable before fixing his hair once again.  He mouths “okay, perfect” before looking dead center into the camera once again.

Giani:  No matter what anyone else in this tournament thinks, I’m the one who is gonna walk out as the winner.  All my Vegas and Atlantic City folks better get in touch with ya bookies and put every last cent of ya money on this stallion.  I’m gonna be that underdog that comes out on top, and everyone is gonna ask themselves the same question… “Why didn’t I see this before?”  This kid is a natural.  All the signs have been there since day one.  A couple months after I debuted in the world of professional wrestlin’, I had one bullshit loss to my name and the BACW Empire State Championship.  I held that title for like six months, dawg.  No joke.  Six… freakin’… months bro!

Giani reaches his hand back and Dean places a bottle of Smart Water in his hands.  He pops open the sports bottle cap and takes a refreshing sip from the bottle.  He sighs in relief before handing the bottle back to the stern Dean.

Giani:  I shoulda never left BACW, cause as soon as I did, my career went to shit.  I went to Sin City where I was constantly overlooked for people with the same old shit and the same old drama and bullshit tired old lines.  They didn’t want anythin’ fresh in their world.  Not like the kickass Mr. Batee as a boss.  If I have one regret, it is not stickin’ around to try winnin’ the Heavyweight title, or maybe a Grinder.  Batee gave me a chance, but I was blinded by promises of spotlights and fame.  Empty promises.

Giani sighs in regret before shaking his head.  He runs his fingers over his face, as if trying to wipe away that regret.  However, it doesn’t work.  Giani takes a second to collect his thoughts.

Giani:  It feels like I spit in the face of the only person who truly believed in me.  I can’t undo it, What’s done is done, but I wanna go out there and do ya one better, Bats.  I wanna go out to that ring and prove that the faith you put into me wasn’t for nothin’.  You saw talent, and you cashed in on it.  As someone who owes a lot to ya, I’m gonna go out there and win this thing.  I’m gonna be the King of the Deathmatch 2013 winner.  I’d be lyin’ if I said it was all for you, cause God knows I ain’t that selfless.  I deserve to be a King.  I earned that right.  But, I wouldn’t be in this position without ya.  Last year, PRA won the tournament.  This year, someone who is BACW at heart is gonna win it.  I’m gonna prove why BACW is the only place worthy of hostin’ King of the Deathmatch.

Taking another moment to collect himself, Giani takes another sip from the water before spraying it on his face and handing it back over to Dean.

Giani:  Now, with that said, I was destined to win this tournament.  Not only is this make or break for me, but it’s also what I am dedicatin’ every ounce of blood in my body to.  I don’t care if I leave half of it on the mat.  I don’t care what gets broken.  I will stand up and accept the most glorious of titles.  I will accept my birthright, and I will take up my throne.  Your KING has spoken…

With that, Giani gives one last lengthy glare at the camera.  He then stands up from his seat.  He straightens out his clothes, making sure his exit is just as perfect as his entrance.  He walks over to the door, exiting the room.  Dean looks at the camera, lifting his glasses up so that he might glare at the fans so they can know how serious this is.  He tucks the bottle of water under his arms before leaning back up.  He presses a button on the wall, and we fade out to snow.

{End Cut Scene}

{I Got My Speakers on, Speakers on, Speakers on, Speakers on, … Got My Speakers on Wrecked}

{fin}

 {I got my speakers on wrecked}

{Cut Scene}

A green screen shows off the Vegas skyline underneath the Sin City Wrestling logo.  A lone canvas chair sits in front of the screen, left empty for a moment, that is… until “The Italian Stallion” Giani Di Luca comes stepping up to it.  He is wearing a fresh white hoodie with his “Italian Stallion” logo on the back with some studded blue jeans and some clean as ice white sneakers.  He flexes his bulky muscles, posing for a moment before sitting down in the chair.  He looks curiously into the lens reflection, picking something from his teeth before making sure his hair is pure perfection.  Once he is satisfied with his appearance, he chooses to further ignore our presence as he holds a finger up at the camera.  He pulls out his cell phone and runs his fingers over the screen quickly.  He continues this for nearly a full minute before a voice is heard clearing their throat from behind the camera.  Giani pauses where he is, slowly raising his eyes up to look into the camera.  His lips part slightly as his dark eyes register annoyance.  He sits there for a second before setting his phone down.

Giani:  Yo… You got a problem, dawg?

Giani waits as the cameraman remains silent.  He turns forward, giving the man behind the camera his complete and undivided attention.  His lips remain parted while the corners curl up into a little bit of a smile.  He stares for all of twenty seconds before chuckling to himself.

Giani:  Hey!  Are ya deaf, bro?  I just asked you a question.  Do… you… got… a… problem… DAWG?

Cameraman:  No, no problem, it’s just…

Giani shakes his head as he leans back in his seat.  He runs his fingertips over his temples slowly before smiling big, exposing his perfect teeth.  He claps his hands together, setting his elbows on his knees as he leans down a bit, sitting as informally as he can.  Finally, he shakes his finger at the cameraman, raising his eyebrows to let us know something’s about to go down, dawg…

Giani:  The way you was clearin’ ya throat and all, I thought you might have a problem with bein’ put as a second priority.  I was makin’ a point for ya, and everyone else who is watchin’ this.  Let me break it down for the dumbasses sittin’ at their computers in their crusty underwear, wishin’ they had this kind of swag.

Giani pauses long enough to raise both index fingers in the air.  He points to both sides of his head, nodding as he ever so slowly lowers them down to his fresh sneakers.  He shrugs his shoulders before getting serious.  He leans back in his seat just a bit, straightening his back so everyone watching gets acquainted with the “new” Giani.

Giani:  Now that you seen how serious this shit really is up in here, maybe you can comprehend with ya little minds exactly what my point was.  See, I made sure that y’all knew you was my last priority here.  My cell phone is more important than you.  My hair is more important than the viewers.  I used to run around backstage tryin’ to make the fans like me.  I hustled my shit as much as I could to earn TV time.  Why should I hafta do that?  I’m Giani Di Fuckin’ Luca.  I am the whole show.  I gave up a good thing to come to Sin City, and I turn into nothin’ but an errand boy for Spike Staggs?  I ain’t no one’s bitch.

Giani emphasizes his last statement by drawing out the last word, spitting a bit when he says it.  He lunges forward for a slight second, puffing out his chest and broadening his shoulders.  He is worked up, but he quickly calms himself down.

Giani:  Erik Staggs reminded me of where I came from.  When I signed that contract, and looked that smug bastard in the face, I thought I was gonna shine here all by myself.  I left a good thing to come here.  I was on my way to the top on the fast track in Bad Ass Championship Wrestling, in my own back yard.  I left that to be stuck at the bottom and I didn’t even realize it until Erik told me I would never go anywhere here unless things changed.  I always told peoples I don’t need to explain myself to nobody.  When I Jersey Turnpike’d that ass kisser, Spike Staggs, I was makin’ a statement.  Things are gonna change around here, bro.  This is just the beginning…

{End Cut Scene}


Wild Ones

The music pulses through the speakers of Zona Rosa Night Club in Bogota, Columbia.  The walls are shaking with the heavy house music.  Despite the smaller size of the club, it is packed inside with several of SCW’s most important talents… Erik Staggs, James Huntington-Hawkes, Simpson, and Roxanne are all present in the club, sitting next to Giani Di Luca in the VIP Lounge.  A sexy senorita is grinding over Erik Staggs as he grins at her.  James looks a bit awkward as Giani slides a bill in another scantily clad woman’s belt loop.  She walks over to James and turns around, bending over so he might play a game known as “Peephole.”  Giani laughs, but can’t be heard as the woman begins her corruption of James.  Erik tosses out a few bills as money hungry woman nearly ravage each other to get at the bills.  Erik motions over to Simpson and Roxanne as the two woman smirk at each other and work their way over to the two.  A third woman stuffs a small wad of cash in her top and works her way over to Giani who politely declines.  She shrugs her shoulders as she clicks her heels against the ground, walking away so that he can see what he is missing.  Erik gives him an odd look, but Giani just shrugs his shoulders.  He pulls out his phone, seeing nothing on the screen.  He contemplates making another attempt, but decides against it.  Erik leans over, whispering words of encouragement to Giani, but that doesn’t make the hearty Italian feel any better.  Instead, he walks over to the edge of the balcony overlooking the dance floor.  The house music fades out slowly as the roar of the club can be heard.  Giani leans down with his elbows on the railing.  For the first time ever, Giani looks as if he were in a general depression.  Rather than joining the mob for a dance as we are used to seeing, Giani just sits there, watching the crowd have their fun.  “Wild Ones” by Flo Rida and Sia comes on over the speakers, starting out slowly as couples pair off and singles bounce up and down to the beat.  A hint of a smile comes over Giani’s face as he rests his chin in his hands, allowing his platinum iced out cross dangles from his neck.  He is dressed to impress tonight with a black and silver Ed Hardy tattoo design t-shirt and studded jeans, looking perfect as always.  His deep brown eyes stare across the dance floor, scanning for something.  On the edge of the floor, he finds it.  He spots dark brown locks, olive skin, ample top and back, in a red party dress, dancing alone.  Red is a sign of desperation, and Giani reads it loud and clear.  However, he doesn’t even move, let alone try to approach her.  He watches her attempt at blending in with the happy crowd, but he can tell she is feeling the same way he is.  As if destiny had worked its magic, her eyes wander up to him and from all the way across the club, her bottom lip quivers.  As much as they try to break their stare, they can’t.

Giani can’t avoid it any longer.  As much as he tries to play a jerk on TV, he is still human, and who is he to slap destiny across the face?  As the music continues to progress, he feels like he is moving in slow motion as he walks down the steps to the lower level.  As he reaches the bottom, he sees the gorgeous Latina trying to weave in through the crowds toward him.  A man grabs onto her wrist, forcing her to turn around and dance with him, and Giani’s face turns to anger as he spins the guy around.  Their heated words are masked by the music, but the short, skinny guy hauls off and punches Giani across the face.  Giani’s head remains ajar for a moment as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  A smile comes over his face as he grabs onto the kid’s shirt, lifting him up high in the air with one arm while tossing him into a pillar.  He follows after the guy, punching across his face as the beauty chases after him.  Giani cracks a bottle over the pillar, holding the point up to the man’s neck in a rage.  The fiery senorita grabs at his arm, doing what she can to pull him away.  She pleads with him, but even if the music weren’t so loud, he still wouldn’t understand her words.  He does understand her eyes, and the passionate kiss that she lays on him before security shoves him along.  She waves at him, exclaiming something as he reaches back toward her.  The five bouncers shove him out of the door and when he hears the word “policia” he knows it is time to move along.  He shuffles along the sidewalk on his long journey back to the hotel with a strong buzz going on.  His face is dripping sweat as he calms down from the adrenaline rush, but it is covered with regret that he didn’t get a chance to get to know this Columbian seductress that he can’t get out of his mind.  The city streets blur at his side as he tries to make it to his destination.

About half way there, he hears a loud voice calling off in the distance.  “Senor Di Luca!  Giani! Espera por favor!”  He stops dead in his tracks.  A faint tear is seen in the corner of his eyes as he looks up from the ground.  He slowly turns his head back to see that red beauty doing her best to run at him in heels.  He charges at her in slow motion.  The gap between them slowly decreases until finally, they reach each other.  She falls into his arms as he lifts her up, spinning her around in a full circle, looking into her deep, dark eyes.  As he holds her there, the moon shining behind her, casting an angelic glow upon her, she leans down and kisses him.  The streets of Bogota cheer for them as they both smile widely for one another.  He sets her down on her feet and they hold hands as they run off.  She giggles, speaking in Spanish as they reach the hotel…

Moments later, they come crashing through the hotel room door, going at it like teens on Prom night.  She paws at his torso, ripping his shirt over his head.  Between kisses, he leans down, pulling her dress of slowly.  Before pulling it over her head, he kisses her passionately.  Once the dress is off, and the black lace underwear is all she is wearing, she rips off his belt.  She tosses it to the side, kicking her heels off as she leans back on the bed.  Giani leans down over her, his massive frame almost eclipsing her beauty.  She runs her hands down the small of his back before sliding his Italian flag boxers down low, caressing him against her as she wraps her legs around him.  Their eyes lock onto each others, and the rest is hours of pure ecstasy…

Once the passion subsides momentarily, they both lie under the plush comforter, concealing what is only for their eyes.  Giani wipes away at his forehead slowly, letting out a sigh of relief before letting out a low chuckle.  His seductress, come to find out is named Daniela, nestles her head against his chest, running her crimson red nails across his chest.  Her body quivers against Giani’s well toned, tanned chest.

Daniela:  Usted es un amante… fantástico!

Giani raises an eyebrow as he reaches over to find his translator dictionary.  He thumbs through a few pages, finding out what she meant.  He pieces it together and smiles, running his fingers through her dark black hair.  With his other hand, he thumbs through the pages carefully trying to piece together a response of his own.

Giani:  Let’s see… how do ya say “Make me a sandwich or get the f*ck outta my bed…?”

Cluelessly, Daniela continues to run her fingers over his chest, favoring his nipple momentarily.  He softly chuckles to himself   She purrs gently in his arms as his smile widens.  He always wondered if he would get an opportunity to say that in another language.  After all, it had been a busy day for him and the rest of Team Erik, and his cardio work out just now has him ready to go to sleep.  He grins as he leans down, gently lifting her chin up so that he looks down into his eyes.  He leans down close to her lips, teasing her with his soft lips.  He reads her vulnerability, and for the slightest of seconds, he almost doesn’t want to say it, but…

Giani: Me hacen un sándwich o vete a mi cama!

She tilts her head to the side, slowly understanding through his bad linguistics.  Even once she gets it, she chuckles a little as if it were a joke.  Giani smirks, and she leans up to look him in the eye.  He shrugs his shoulders before thumbing through the pages once again.

Giani:  Uhhhh… Me esta, er, muchos serioso.

She narrows her eyes at him, trying to discern the truth, until she realizes he really means it.  She shoves him hard as she begins speaking at light speed.  She shrieks at him as he sits there, taking it all in stride.

Giani:  I don’t understand a single word of it, but I assume it’s somethin’ like “Oh, Giani, why are you such an asshole?  First ya rip me open like a bag of chips, and then ya toss me to the side like trash?”  You’re the slut who spread ya legs for me sweetie.  Move along because I’m done usin’ that up.

She slides her dress on, collecting her undies as she slips her shoes on.  She is fuming as she approaches the door.  She turns around with a furious look on her face, holding her fingers apart about an inch.

Daniela:  Un poco, Giani…

Giani: You wasn’t sayin’ that for the last three hours, trick.  Go on before I call la policia to put ya in el jail cell… Psycho

Giani slowly waves at her as she slams the door behind her.  His slick grin fades when he cracks up laughing.  He stops, shaking his head slowly as he tries to stop his laughter.  He pulls on his jeans, carefully zipping them up as he feels proud of himself for tonight’s escapades.

Giani:  What?  Did she think I was like some pussy whipped Spike Staggs kinda guy who wants to talk or cuddle afterwards er somethin’?

Giani looks out the window, seeing the woman throwing things up toward his window in anger and he just shakes his head.  He closes the curtains before turning around to head toward the bathroom.  He lets out one last laugh before shutting the door and we fade.


{Cut Scene}

Once again, we switch to Giani in the green screen booth, this time we are showing off the night life of Lima, Peru in the background underneath the SCW logo.  Giani is chuckling to himself once again, shrugging his shoulders as he adjusts himself in the canvas chair.

Giani:  What did ya expect from me?  Did ya think I was gonna magically find love in Columbia?  This ain’t a fairytale.  I’m Grade A Italian Beefcake.  That’s too much for an ordinary woman to handle.  It’s gonna take a real woman to tame this stallion, and Daniela wasn’t woman enough.

Giani nods his head to accentuate his point.  Suddenly, he notices a hair or two out of place.  He licks his thumb and index finger, gently fixing them until they are perfectly in place.  He clicks his jaw with a quick thumbs up gesture before continuing.

Giani:  Sorry honey, but it’s the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts.  I ain’t met anyone who was enough for me.  Kinda like inside of the ring.  Two losses in my entire year long career, and neither one was a clean win for my opponent.  That dumbass Jamie Staggs cost me a match against Michael Barnes in BACW and then my lil bro, J-Fly Hawkes, only beat me by rockin’ me with the ring bell.  Last I heard, Erik Staggs cleared that loss from my record, so I’m technically undefeated here in SCW.

Giani grins while he thinks about it for a second.  He has a gleeful look in his eyes while he reminisces in his own greatness for a moment before getting serious again.

Giani:  When I get to Peru, I will prove to everyone in SCW, and the fans, that I belong here in the Main Event.  I don’t care if I gotta beat Thatcher Rex and Argento all by my damn self to prove it.  Of course, since I ain’t Spike Staggs or Nick Jones, I’m gonna get stuck fightin’ Trevor Irons or some other shit wrestler who is happy with anything Mark and Christian throws at them.  Fuckin’ idiots…  Get ready to see the biggest, best thing to hit the ring since Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka.

Giani stares on for emphasis once more before getting up from his seat.  He walks off, and seconds later, the screen cuts to black before sizzling with fuzz.

{End Cut Scene}

{I got my speakers on wrecked}


Politics

The first class flight from Bogota to Lima was tiresome with all of the complaining going on amongst the members of Team Erik shy of Misty and Roxanne, who had split off for ACW 11 Live, and “Primetime” Matthew Kennedy who went to Manhattan for Grinder.  Giani remembers hearing it all from the time the show in Bogota had started, all the way until they split up at the hotel.  Not that any bit of it was undeserved of course.  Giani isn’t one to complain too much, so he kept his own thoughts to himself the entire time.  Now it is time for a lunch meeting between Erik Staggs, Kevin Carter, and Giani himself.  If there is one positive thing about Giani other than his God-like physique and chiseled face… it is his punctuality.  He has arrived to the restaurant considerably early for the meeting.  He looks a bit bored as he types away on his phone.  We come around to see a small icon in the corner of his phone that is a picture of Misty, but he quickly puts his phone away as Erik Staggs walks up toward the table.  Erik has a big grin on his face as he holds a fist out, waiting for it to get bumped.  Giani raises an eyebrow and then laughs as he obliges Erik.  Giani lowers the hood of his “Italian Stallion” hoodie and unzips it, no doubt plugging his Fuhgeddaboudit T-shirt.  Erik pulls out a chair, ready to sit down as he verbally greets Giani.

Erik:  So nice to see you found this little place.  It is the best restaurant in Lima.  Of course… that doesn’t say much.  But, it beats McDonalds.

Erik takes his seat, looking around with a slight hint of disgust at the tiny, dark café.  Giani nods his head, agreeing with Erik as he looks around at the clientele.  The sweaty businessmen coming in on their lunch break leaves a foul smell circulating with the bad air conditioning.  Giani fans his face, not quite used to the temperature difference at the end of their summer.  He picks up a menu, studying the Spanish words to see if anything sounded good.

Giani:  I’m not sure about that.  They got anything good here that ain’t on a stick, or looks like hog feed?

Erik:  No…

Giani waits for Erik to smile, or hint that he is joking, but it never comes.  After a few seconds of waiting, Giani’s eyes lower down toward the menu and he sighs, feeling disgusted with the choices presented in front of him.  Erik thumbs through the menu quickly, deciding for himself already despite his own look of detest.  The waiter comes by with a pad and pen at the ready.

Waiter:  Lo que me da para usted señores hoy?

Erik:  Estamos a la espera de una persona más antes de que nos fin.  Para beber, por favor nos traen su mejor cerveza, no cal por favor?

Waiter:  Sí, enseguida.

Erik sets the menu down on the table as Giani looks at him curiously.  Erik taps his fingers on the table slowly until Giani sets the menu down on the table in frustration.

Giani:  Screw it, dawg.  I ain’t eatin’ any of this trash.  Get me some alcohol right away.

Erik:  That has already been taken care of, Giani.  Might I recommend the causa?  It is quite delectable if I might say so myself.

Giani:  Okay.  Might I recommend you let me in on what this meeting’s all about?  I mean, one of the few good things about this disgusting place is that it is summer, and the hotel’s got a pool.

Erik clasps his hands together, finally stopping the annoying finger tapping.  He stares at Giani for a moment as if he had just asked what color the grass was.  Once he realizes that Giani is serious, he scoffs out loud.

Erik:  I always thought you broke the typical Italian stereotype of being an imbecile, but apparently the joke was on me… Let me ask you this; who paid for the hotel before I threw in the extra cash to upgrade us all?  Hm?  Was it Mark Ward Jr. and Christian Underwood?

Giani:  Yeah, so?

Erik:  So… don’t you think that they might be hanging around there with ears on us to find out what we are planning so they can get the jump on us?  Whether they admit it or not, each week we back them further and further into a corner and this is only the third show with us being exposed.  Desperation will rear its ugly head again, and I refuse to give them any more leverage than they already have on us.

Giani:  Okay, okay… ya don’t gotta be such a douchebag, Staggs.

Giani almost seems to pout as he lowers his eyes.  He looks back down to his phone, smirking a bit as he rapidly runs his fingers over the screen in response.  He makes it quick and puts the phone back into his pocket before looking back up at Erik.

Giani:  Its nice to know that ya got plans to make this show go our way.  Carter’s gonna walk out as Heavyweight Champion, Amy, Laura, or Becky’s gonna be facin’ Misty at the next Supercard so we keep that title no matters what.  Ace is gonna pound Jordan’s tired ass skills into the mat.  Necra and Amanda will knock the hell outta what’s her face and NXT’s metal tits.  And I could take Thatcher Rex and Argento out all by myself if I wanted to.  But my question is this; what is so important that ya needed to call a meetin’ with me and Kevin?

Erik:  Like you said, we are running the Bombshell Division, and this show won’t make a damned bit of difference in that fact.  I am expressing a strong interest in Joanne Canelli and The Fallen, taking all but two titles from SCW.  Kevin will be taking up one of those titles very soon.  Since James is not allowed to go after the Roulette Championship due to Mark and Christian protecting Thatcher Rex… I need you to go out there and beat the top contender in that division along with the champion.  I want you to prove that the last title we have yet to claim could easily be taken away by any of our men.

The waiter comes back with both of their beers, popping the top off of the longnecks right at the table.  Giani quickly scoops his up and sucks on it like a baby sucking on a bottle, holding up his finger for the waiter to bring him another.  Erik looks amazed at how quickly Giani downs the first.  Once Giani kills it, he smacks his lips and sighs as he slams it down to the table, causing the whole restaurant to look at them.

Giani:  Let me make somethin’ clear here.  When I came to SCW as a fun little party boy from Jersey, I woulda settled for this kinda competition.  I woulda went out there and hustled my skills and picked apart someone like Thatcher Rex.  Then, I woulda worn the Roulette Championship until I got tired of it, several months down the line.  That’s where I was then.  Now, I’m pissed that they threw this garbage at my feet.  They expect me to make them look good, but it’s impossible.  You saw how I Jersey Turnpike’d Rex in the parking lot.  I picked that old fucker apart with that and a couple fists.  Imagine what I will do when it’s an actual match.

Erik nurses the beer like a gentleman, slowly sipping on it as he listens to Giani go on about Rex.  He is loving the fire in Giani’s eyes and in his spirit, even as Giani snatches the beer out of the waiter’s hand like a “typical Peruvian”.  Erik nods a polite “gracias” to the waiter as Giani takes a long sip from the second bottle.  He is about to say something when Giani cuts him off.

Giani:  The sad part is that Rex is the biggest threat on the other team!  That Florence jerk-off who calls himself a true Italian?  He’s too pale and blue eyed to have the power of Sicily runnin’ through his veins.  I feel sorry for the kid because he is gonna look black and blue by the time me and whoever the hell ya got lined up as my partner are done with him.  It’s the way it’s gonna be since he ain’t sided with us yet.  He would be smart to, cause then we could teach him a thing or two.

Erik:  All I am asking you to do is to think about trying to take that title away from Rex since James is ineligible.  Suck up your pride for one damned minute and think about what this could mean for us, for our cause!

Giani:  Like I said.  Ya just a little too late for that one, Staggs.  Instead of this bein’ like my forth match in SCW, two of which was bullshit cause of illegal weapons, and a stupid ass rookie trained by Spike Staggs as my partner, you, Mark, and Christian shoulda booked me more.  Ya shoulda used the best talent in SCW instead of throwin’ rookies at him once every couple months and expectin’ him to be happy with that.  In my free time, which has been way too much lately, I realized I’m done goin’ for a second rate title.  I’ll show off and stampede over anyone they throw at me in the ring, but when it comes to the title hunts, I ain’t lookin’ at the second best.  To steal a line from my opponent, I won’t settle for second place.  I’m gonna do somethin’ I ain’t never done before, boss.

Giani picks up his beer and takes another sip of it while Erik looks at him curiously.  He thinks about it for a second and then speaks up.

Erik:  If you don’t want the Roulette title, then what exactly do you want?

Giani:  Aside from provin’ why I’m the best by beatin’ anyone they throw at me, I’m sayin’ I want to go one of two ways, see?  Forget the Roulette.  I wanna go for the top prize, or I’ll get me a partner, and we’s gonna go for the tag gold, bro.

Erik:  But, after Sunday, both of those will belong to Kevin Carter.

Speaking of Kevin, Erik looks down at his watch, noticing how early both men had arrived at the café.  He sighs, looking at the door as if expecting Kevin to walk in any minute as Giani leans back in his seat.  Giani laces his fingers behind his head, smiling the cheesiest grin he possibly can.

Giani:  Tell ya boy there ain’t no need to be greedy with the gold, then.  Make him challenge me for one of them.  I respect the hell outta Kevin, but the truth is that if it came down to it, I would jump on the chance to take one of them belts away.  Either one, dawg.  I ain’t satisfied with bein’ stuck in one spot, and Kevin’s already jumpin’ all over the place here.  Just remember who the first person to join ya cause was.  Just remember the first person who stood by ya side in public and didn’t hide fuck all from the fans or Mark and Christian.  Just remember who is gonna be loyal to ya until ya done with him.  I’m like a pitbull.  I am ride or die, Staggy.  Just keep that in mind.

Giani picks his beer up and begins slowly sipping on it.  The potency of South American beer surprises Giani, giving him a buzz already.  The tension he was feeling about being in the armpit of the world has faded away now, and he starts to breath a little more freely now.  Erik is loving the attitude and the fire burning inside of Giani.  He, too, leans back in his chair, taking a second or two to admire it.

Erik:  I understand where you are coming from, Giani.  I really do.  You are driven, and you have spent too much time being put on the back burner in this organization.  As much as I want us to promote unity within our alliance, it would go against our fundamental beliefs if I asked you to give up your dream and settle for less than you deserve.  I would be no better than Mark and Christian if I asked you to do that.  Rest assured that getting you near any other title will be very difficult right now, though.

Giani:  I guess I gotta go out there and do what I do best.  I’m gonna go out there and embarrass the competition and put another mark in the W column.  This time, I ain’t goin’ out there just to show my loyalty to you, Erik.  I’m goin’ out there to show Thatcher Rex that he ain’t even in my league, and that it was a big mistake to turn down sidin’ with us.  Not to mention our little war of words on Twitter where he called me out, sayin’ I ain’t a threat to him when I’m a threat to all of SCW.  The prehistoric piece of crap is gonna learn a lesson.  Siding with Team SCW will not guarantee him protection from us, because we are unstoppable.  That mixed with my little vendetta will lead me to my third win in SCW.

Giani nurses down the rest of his beer before spotting Kevin Carter outside of the restaurant. Giani looks back to Erik with a smirk on his face as he slowly stands up from his seat.  Erik looks a little surprised to see Giani leaving so soon.  Giani reaches into his pocket, pulling his wallet from his hoodie.  Erik shakes his head.

Erik:  No need to worry about it.  I’ve got this one taken care of as a business expense.

Erik winks as Giani shrugs his shoulders.  He tucks his wallet back into his pocket and pushes his chair against the table.  Giani nods his head before looking toward the door, ready to make his escape.

Giani:  I’m gonna go work on my tan so I look my best when I’m putting Thatcher Rex back in his place.  Go ahead and give your little pep talk to Kevin.  Make sure he don’t strain a muscle carrying both of them titles out of this God forsaken city, will ya?

Giani nudges Erik playfully as he chuckles.  Erik pats Giani on the back as Giani walks toward the door, flipping his hood up over his head and sliding on his iced out sunglasses.  He puffs his chest out as he pushes through the door, exiting the restaurant as we fade out.


{I got my speakers on Wrecked}

In My Head Pt III


”The fans of Sin City Wrestling were in complete and utter shock when it was announced just moments before Climax Control went on the air live from Lima, Peru that the match of Argento and Thatcher Rex versus Giani Di Luca and a mystery opponent, was cancelled.  Everyone expected to hear from Thatcher Rex, Argento, Giani Di Luca, and an unnamed person.  No one said a word leading up to the match, and even worse, no one showed up for the match.  The only person who showed up to the arena at all was Giani Di Luca, and the fans have had their fill of this egotistical jerk off running around the ring, butting into other people’s business.  They were ready to see him step back in the ring in hopes of seeing him get his ass kicked.  Much to my delight, that did not happen.  However, much to my own dismay, no one put any effort into that match, including my own team members.  I am sorely disappointed in both of them, but there will be a match to make up for it three times over.  Live from the Movistar Arena in Santiago, Chile, Giani Di Luca, James Huntington-Hawkes, and a different mystery partner of my choosing will be taking on Thatcher Rex and… Sinful Obsession in one of the first big Team Erik versus Team SCW matches.  I have faith in my men to show up and make me proud in what will be one of our biggest wins to date.”

-Erik Staggs via Wrestling Source Online

Giani stared at the words for what seemed like an eternity.  Disappointment fills his eyes as he reads between the lines, noticing Erik Staggs has scolded him in his public address.  Giani has never settled for less than his best in any aspect of his life, and to have failed an opportunity to advance both himself and Erik Staggs’ cause makes him angry with himself.  He wipes away some of the white face paint he was wearing from his stunt with Erik Staggs and Kevin Carter earlier on in the night.  As he looks up from his phone and into the mirror, he starts wiping more of the make up off until he sees someone staring back at him.  His own face has transformed into Spike Staggs, shaking his head in disappointment.  Giani growls and looks away, but that doesn’t make his conscience disappear.

”Spike”:  You are worthless, Giani.  You are so worthless that you couldn’t even seize the opportunity to walk into the ring for an easy win.  Even Kevin Carter had enough brains to do that… Are you really comfortable being a thug for anyone who thinks you have even just a minute amount of talent?

Giani’s jaw clinches as he turns away from the mirror all together.  Deep down, his own disappointment in himself continues to eat away at him.  “Spike” smirks back at him, shaking his head even more.  Spike chuckles, ringing inside of Giani’s head, getting louder and louder before Giani finally turns around to confront his demons.

Giani:  Shut up, dawg, or else I’m gonna break ya face!

”Spike”:  Oh?  Do you mean the same way you broke Thatcher Rex’s face?  The same way you broke Argento’s face last week?  If so, I don’t have a damn thing to worry about then.

Spike’s smirk only makes Giani’s grimace even bigger.  Giani balls up his fists, ready to break the mirror, but he controls himself.  Who really wants scars on a body as perfect as Giani’s?

Giani:  Get over ya-self kid.  You got absolutely no room to talk considerin’ I had to show up for you to your match.  So don’t come at me like that, bro, cause you are fightin’ a losing battle.

Spike:  That is very funny.  Almost too funny, Giani.  You always were a comedian alongside Jamie.  You know, in your comfort zone?  Surrounded by people who made you look better only by comparison.  It’s safe, I totally get it.

Giani:  You USED me to make yourself look better, Spike!  You did that with every member of NXT, and I got tired of livin’ in your shadow.  I ain’t doin’ it no more.

Giani feels a bit of victory over his conscience, but that doesn’t last long as Spike just shakes his head.  Giani raises an eyebrow in curiosity as Spike leans forward.  His blue eyes pierce through the glass through the black eyeliner.

Spike:  I inspire the younger generation and give them the tools to succeed.  I was forced into a very tough decision, and either way I knew I was going to let people down.  You just got lazy.  Where you might have stood a chance defeating Thatcher Rex and Argento, you have to take on World Champions as well as the Roulette Champion.  How else do I say this other than… you’re fuuuucked…

Giani:  I ain’t afraid of some five and a half foot retard or a magician who wears more make up than you.  Putting them in the place of some wannabe Giani Di Luca, who could use a serious spray tan, don’t bother me at all.  Especially when I get to team with James.

Spike:  You don’t get to be a World Champion by being so easy to beat.  Look at me.  I mean, God knows I am no easy feat.

Giani takes this time to laugh in Spike’s face.  He holds onto his stomach, slamming his big fist against the table as he tries to get a hold of himself.  He takes a deep breath, but can’t help erupting into a second round of laughter.  Spike taps on the glass to get Giani’s attention, but Giani doesn’t afford him the luxury.

Giani:  You… you ain’t makin’ ya case, bro!  If I really wanted to, I could take ya out.  Easy.

Spike:  Then why haven’t you?  The truth is, when I approached you to join New X-Tremes, I saw a lot of raw potential in you.  If trained long enough, you might have been able to.  But don’t think for a second that you could take me out the way you are going right now.  You are lazy, unfocused, distracted, and still new to the game.

Giani:  I was an undefeated Empire State Champion in BACW ‘til I jumped over to Sin City.  I lost the belt as a formality, or else I would still own that belt.  I just saw myself gettin’ passed up so that you could run the Men’s Division.  They knew I was too good for the Roulette title, so they kept me back for you.  Why am I even havin’ this conversation with a mirror like a crazy ass fool like you?

Spike closes his eyes, rubbing his temples in frustration.  Giani seems satisfied with himself as he watches Spike stressing out in the mirror.  Spike takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before clasping his hands together.

Spike:  The truth is that you are too fucking dense to see the reality of it, Giani.  You did great things in BACW considering you were a rookie, but you haven’t done anything but beat some punk who wanted to prove a point, and then pissed off the second you beat him.  That hardly makes you worthy of being put into the Heavyweight title run.  When we were still working together, I told you what you had to do, and you were too lazy or too scared to go out there on your own.  You proved it by joining up with my uncle.  You traded one Staggs for another.  Other than trying a little harder to piss people off, you still haven’t done a damn thing, and you know I’m right or else I wouldn’t be saying this.  I am in your head after all…

This makes Giani think a little harder about things.  As much as he wants to tell his conscience that he is the best in the world, he knows that he has some room to improve.  “Spike” nods his head, letting Giani know that he sees this doubt.  Giani snaps his head back, looking up at the mirror.

Giani:  I don’t care what ya say, bro.  Even if there might be some truth to it, I ain’t gonna sit back and let this kill my swag.  I’m gonna go out there on Sunday, and I’m gonna prove that I got what it takes to be the best in this company.  If by that time you are still champion, then we can work out our beef with that belt on the line.  If not, then I’m gonna be in your spot soon enough.  I’m sure that beatin’ two “World Champions” will earn me some cred in this business and in this company.  I will go out there next week and I will fight with James and whoever Erik’s got lined up, and I’m gonna give it everything I got.  I’m gonna make my real return this week, and ain’t nobody gonna stop me.  Not Despayre and his teddy bear.  Not Gabriel and his little magic tricks.  Not Thatcher Rex with his, I don’t know, dusty dinosaur ass?

”Spike”:  Weak, bro.  So weak.

Giani:  Shut it!  You ain’t even real.  You couldn’t be bothered to show up for ya fans or ya team of idiotic, hypocritical loyalists.  All of my opponents are on ya side, so beating them ain’t gonna be as hard as ya think.  Team SCW thinks we are B-list worthless pieces of shit, so they are already at a disadvantage.  They all gonna learn when they see our arms raised up in the air.  All of you.

Spike starts to speak up, but Giani doesn’t give him the chance.  He begins washing off the paint as quickly as he can.  With each swipe of the rag, Spike’s face starts to fade from his line of vision.  Giani gets his face completely cleaned off, staring himself in the mirror as he starts to calm down.  After a deep breath, he turns around toward the showers as we fade out.

{I got my speakers on, speakers on, speakers on, speakers on, speakers on… I got my speakers on wrecked!}

{fin}