”King of the Death Match? You wanna ask me why I signed up for an extremely hardcore tournament? Seriously?”Jamie Staggs is fuming as he is led through the back by a medic. They are patting at his forehead as he bats them away in annoyance. He shakes his head in frustration as he dodges their treatment. Without saying anything, they continue to grab at him each time he escapes their grasps. At this point, they are obviously tired of protesting him after what must have only been a few minutes. Jamie has this effect on people. Especially after what Giani Di Luca had just done to him on his show… on HIS turf! His mind is focused solely on hoping and praying that these two get to meet up in the final round of the tournament, because he has a few things he’s like to teach the rook.
The hallway behind the showroom of the Aquarius Casino and Resort in Laughlin, Nevada is narrow, but very well lit. The echoes of Jamie’s angry voice bounce off of the walls with the excellent acoustics. He continues doing his best to act as if he weren’t even scratched by the Empire State Championship belt that had collided with his forehead. Jamie’s forehead is still streaming blood as the medic finally gives up.
Medic: Not once did I even ask that, sir… You’re going to need stitches, you know?[/b]
Jamie: Fuck stitches and FUCK Giani Di Luca. Right now I am worrying about getting to him for revenge and doing it the way a real man does it… with lots of blood, lots of sweat, and lots of my opponent’s tears! I will clobber anyone to get through to him, if he is good enough to get to the finals.
Medic: Sir, please! At least apply pressure to your forehead, you are losing a lot of blood.
Jamie rips the stained towel from the medic’s hand and then he wraps it around his forehead as if doing so were the biggest imposition in the world. He ties it tightly as the stain starts to saturate more of the white towel. The security team is still leading some of the Bombshells through the back after the mess that was the Swimsuit Contest. Some of them fight while a couple of them just move along, eyeballing Jamie as if he were public enemy number one.
Jamie: See, in Sin City Wrestling, even our Bombshells are tough competition, so that worthless “champion” might not even make it past Gothika. And the only reason he even has that belt is coz of me. He woulda lost it to Magnum Randell if it wasn’t for my help. And then, I offer him the chance to come and help with this Swimsuit Contest for the Bombshells. And what do I get? I get bashed in the damn face with the belt! What an ungrateful bastard…
Jamie is shoved aside by the wildest of the Bombshells, Kittie, who is kicking and screaming and clawing at the guards to get away. Jamie looks the other way innocently, as if avoiding the idea of having to admit that he is married to the hellcat. He even goes as far as to whistle innocently until they are out of sight. Jamie closes one eye as the exposure to blood has begun to make it sting.
Medic: No offense, but both of you are like little boys fighting over a clubhouse or some crap like that. I mean, one minute you hate each other, then the next you are drinking at the bar, and suddenly you hate each other again, and then the swimsuit contest…
Jamie stares blankly for a moment, blinking in confusion. He tilts his head to the side and then points at the medic.
Jamie: Shut up! You’re like a little boy fighting over a clubhouse, butt face. I’m going to answer your question about why I entered this King of the Death Match tournament…
Medic: Actually, I didn’t ask that at all… I just…
Jamie: I am hardcore. I love hardcore wrestling more than my wife. If hardcore wrestling were a big breasted woman, I woulda married her a long time ago! I started out in local St Louis based hardcore feds and I won a couple of their Heavyweight titles while I still had my sense about me. I got to GCW, and Spike became the dominant brother. I got fired from there, then went to GXW where the Xtreme division was dying off. Then I get to Sin C Dubz and you gotta be a suck ass like Casey Williams or Matthew Kennedy to possibly get a hardcore match in the Roulette division…
Jamie stomps his foot in frustration much like a child who is being denied the toy that they want that will just wind up being stepped on in the middle of the night by a groggy parent. He leans against the wall and his eyebrows furl in frustration. His face falls into a pout that accompanies the earlier claims of the medic quite well.
Jamie: I came to BACW to find some hardcore matches, and I found my love. I was in the Grinder and I was kickin asses left and left! I came to BACW for the NWA World Hardcore Championship belt. So the answer to your question is simple. Because hardcore is what I do best.
Medic: Hmmm, well I still didn’t ask, but okay.
Jamie: I wanna bleed!
Medic: You are, profusely, as a matter of fact. You might even need stitch…
Jamie: I wanna make people bleed! I wanna smack someone with a lead-tipped dildo bat, and crossbody someone onto a bunch of thumbtacks! I wanna set a table on fire and bulldog some poor bastard through it! I wanna prove that there is a reason my name is cinnamon with hardcore.
Medic: Synonymous?
Jamie: Only with sugar on toast. But back to what I was sayin. It’s because I’m the best there is when it comes to hardcore! It is where I am at my best. And it is where I feel comfortable. No limits, and no rules my friend! My name should be Jamie Mothafuckin’-Hardcore Staggs…
Jamie’s eyes brighten up as he looks back to the medic. He slaps his arm in an expression of joy, even offering up a childish bounce. His smile is spread from ear to ear as he looks directly at the medic.
Jamie: I’m going to have my name legally changed to that! Joseph is a lame middle name, anyway… Sorry grandpa, but it is. Especially when you compare it to Mothafuckin’-Hardcore, don’t you think? Ingenious!
Medic: It’s probably one of the stupidest middle names anyone could think of, if you want my honest opinion. Sir, I think you’re losing too much blood, your thoughts aren’t clear. You might even have a concussion from the shot you took. You really, REALLY should get checked out…
Jamie: Like it’s the first time I’ve ever had a concussion… Please dude, I’ll be fine. Who needs hospitals when there are liquor stores?
Instantly, there is a disturbance down the hallway. Jamie looks over to see his wife, Kittie, plant her feet against the nearest wall, shoving all of her strength into knocking the security guards down that are trying ever so hard to hold her down. They watch as she rolls off and begins running down the hallway toward them. She skids to a stop, laughing almost maniacally as she bumps into Jamie. She grabs onto his medium length hair and yanks backward as she shoves her tongue down his throat. He gives off a look that screams “YOWZAHS!” as she leans back around the corner. She offers them a raspberry in return as she skips off down the hallway. Jamie and the medic both stare on at her with their eyes widened in shock. They blink a couple of times, almost in unison, before Jamie pats the medic on the arm again.
Jamie: Right? Right?! That name simply rules. Who else woulda thought of that one, but Jamie Staggs? And it just goes together. And… And people think that I’m a big moron, well I’m gonna go prove them!
Jamie starts to walk off, and the medic attempts to act like there is a way of stopping him as he opens his mouth to speak. Jamie stumbles down the hallway with a big, idiotic smirk on his face, ricocheting off of walls in the process. The medic shakes his head in pure disappointment as he watches Jamie disappear down the hallway.
”Epic. Simply epic… What else can I say about the surroundings as we are approach the Party Horde? If I had to try, perhaps awesomeness? Sickeningly sweet? Insanity? Well you can see it, so you tell me!”Behind the camera, Jamie Staggs attempts to narrate the scene sitting in front of him. It is anything but a simple gathering of wanderers in the middle of the desert like some may think. It is a full blown party, equipped with a massive sound system and a DJ set up on a bus that is equipped with massive amounts of lights, strobing and flashing. There are also tents set up with kegs and various different alcohols, some even set up with handmade jewelry and other crafts. And of course, one station with nothing but glowies. They all surround the stretch of flat dirt that has been designated the dance floor. Just a bit to the left of it is a huge bon fire with people hovering around it, trying to stay warm in the frigid desert night.
Jamie stares at this wonder in front of him, awe struck (which isn’t hard to do, so imagine this!). After a few moments of studying the crowd and their apparent lack of clothes despite the cooler temps, Jamie can be heard grunting before his shirt, a crude stitching together of both his SCW and BACW t-shirts, comes flying off and tossed to the ground as he rapidly approaches the crew. He reaches a tent and is instantly handed a small glass full of some dark liquid. Without giving it much thought, Jamie tosses it back, and the mixture of disgust and delight lets us know that it is Jägermeister. He sighs and sets the glass down again as a hearty young man begins cheerfully talking to him in Romanian.
”Dude, I hardly even understand English, so this is wayyy over my head, scro. If I give you my pants, will you give me a few more shots?”Jamie slides his pants off, and empties out his pockets. He sets the camera down on the bar as the guy looks at him oddly. Jamie slides his wallet and keys into his tighty whities. He folds the pants up neatly and lays them down on the table. He gestures with his hands, tossing them back to give the universal signal for more alcohol. The man shrugs and then lays down three more shot glasses. He pulls out the Jägermeister and dispenses it into the glasses and Jamie picks one up in each fist, and immediately downs one, following it up with the other, joined by the man who has picked up the third shot glass.
Alcohol Guy: You drink like real Romanian! Come back to see me, da?
Jamie nods his head and he scoops the camera back up into his arms. He approaches the dance floor, spotting so man half and fully naked people, he doesn’t feel so out of place. He treads onto the dance floor and the camera begins shaking around rapidly as people crowd around him. Jamie is apparently showing off his mad moves as the crowd cheers him on. The mixture of the crowd is from all walks of life, all over the world. The disruption of the camera’s focus picks up even more, indicating that he is really throwing it down, especially judging by the faces and cheers of those surrounding him. The heavy electronic thumping of the music seems to go on and on forever as Jamie can be heard breathing harder into the microphone of the camera.
Jamie: This Alexis Dojo guy really knows how to throw a party. Why have I NOT met this dude yet for real?
Jamie stops as the song switches over. He shrugs his shoulders and then moves off of the floor and over to another one of the tents. This one is full of kegs and clear plastic cups strewn about. The woman inside is dressed in a Harley Davidson halter top and a pair of tight faded jeans. Her chestnut hair falls free down her back and shoulders. She raises her hand out to Jamie, showing off a million bracelets of black and silver, and a ring on every single finger.
Harley Chick: Hey there cowboy… If you give me that camera, you can drink all the way to New York if you are with us for the trip?
Jamie: Ha! I am definitely going to New York. I’m competing in the King of the Deathmatch tournament. I’m gonna tear through some people to prove how hardcore I am. Did I mention I’m considering changing my middle name to Mothafuckin’-Hardcore? Said name rules lots, right? Right?
The woman looks a bit shocked and then she whispers over to a man leaning against the kegs. His ears perk up as he glares right at Jamie with a looks that could almost kill. He walks from behind the kegs and knocks into Jamie as he walks by him. He disappears for a moment as Jamie whistles.
Jamie: Look, lady… Do we got a deal or not? I’m trying to maintain a buzz here, and…
The man returns, this time with a much bigger smile on his face. He nods to the lady, and she hands him a frosty cup. He hands over the camera, and she points it in his direction. Jamie, clothed just in his tighty whiteys, guzzles down half of the glass. He lets out an obnoxiously loud belch and then points and laughs at the lady.
Jamie: You have no idea what you signed up for lady… My doctor says I will be on dialect by the time I’m forty… I’m not a doctor, but what does drinking have to do with language?
Jamie shrugs his shoulders as he grabs for another cup. Behind Jamie is the master of the Party Horde, Aleksei Koji, unbeknownst to Jamie of course. Jamie doesn’t figure it out until he backs up into Aleksei. He turns around and looks right into the almost burning eyes of a possible opponent with the King of the Deathmatch tournament. He simply stares back with a dumbfounded look.
Jamie: Ummm, cool party scro.
Aleksei just stares at Jamie for a moment, unsure of what to make of his presence, or him in general. He looks back to the crowd that is starting to form around them in a giant circle. The crowd begins to raise their volume, even though the music seems to have died.
Aleksei: Can I ask what the hell you are doing here Mr. Staggs? Did you come to mess with my head, throw me off of my game for the tournament?
Jamie waves his hands innocently as Aleksei seems to just now notice the lack of clothing, trying not to chuckle and remain serious. Jamie looks around at the crowd that is still forming, growing by the second. Normally, Jamie would love to do one of two things in this situation. He would want to either piss off the crowd, or make them laugh. This time was a bit different.
Jamie: No, no… See, I got a sorta prop-sition for you. I love to party, this is a party. I gotta get to New York, and you guys are going to New York. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out coz I just did.
Aleksei: And you honestly expect me to believe you? I might be drunk outta my mind right now, but I am still not that gullible, man.
Jamie looks around anxiously at the crowd that is beginning to eyeball him to death. If their stares were doing this, then what would their feet and fists do to him? He looks around at the variety of people there, and he realizes even more that this is where he belongs.
Jamie: I’m not here to try to get you to do anything except let me party with you guys all the way to New York. We can be friends for life, or just for the trip. I promise if we meet up in the ring at any point, I will fight with everything I got, and hardcore is my style. Did I mention…
Harley Chick: … that you are going to change your name to Mothafuckin-Hardcore… yeah you did.
Aleksei tilts his head to the side, almost looking taken aback by this. Jamie nods his head innocently as he rests against one of the empty kegs. Aleksei takes one step forward, and then another as the crowd closes in. He lowers down just a touch to get eye to eye with Jamie.
Aleksei: You want to change your middle name to that? Are you serious?
Jamie: *nodding* Yeah, it’s what I’m best at, so…
Aleksei: I… just don’t believe you are even considering that. That has got to be the single most ridiculously
COOL middle name in like the history of middle names! But you have to prove it by taking a shot of Kraken.
Aleksei motions for a bottle of it to be brought forward. He almost seems to get impatient for his theory to be tested. He waves his hand, ready to shout when the bottle is handed off from person to person to person until it reaches Aleksei. He reaches out another hand for a shot glass which is promptly put into his hand. As he does, he pours the Kraken rum into the glass, allowing the dark rum to overflow and spill a bit on the ground. He slings the glass over to Jamie, expecting the man to look it over with a bit of intimidation, but his expectations are quickly thrown out of the window as Jamie tosses it back, going as far as to hold out the glass for more. Aleksei gives a shout of approval, and the Party Horde welcomes Jamie in with another shot. Jamie tosses it back, looking a bit white in the face as he does so.
Aleksei: This guy is Jamie Mothafuckin-Hardcore Staggs, and he is an honorary member of our Party Horde!
Jamie: I feel that your ineptitude to distinguish the fallacies in your initial perception of my character should be a matter which is immediately addressed, but for the time being…
LET’S FUCKIN’ PARTY!Harley Chick: Wow, those were some big words. Some of them I didn’t even understand… But I understood the end!
The crowd erupts into cheers as Jamie begins passing out cups of beer. The crowd starts to disburse as their hands are filled with precious liquid gold alcohol. Jamie and Aleksei share a shot of Kraken together, solidifying their bond as fellow party boys. The music starts back up again as everyone goes back to their good times, drinking and dancing the night away… among other unmentionable activities.
”You use flash cards, I use explosives… It’s just a different way of memorizing things…”The scene picks up behind the Party Horde camper. It is sitting in front of a field somewhere in the Midwest. The dusky sky gives just a hint of red to the vast landscape of tall grass, and even a large amount of corn stalks growing off in the distance. Upon further inspection, there are a few road signs along the way that read “St Louis, 34 Miles”. As we approach the center or the field, we begin to see the backs of cardboard cutouts with explosives strapped to the bottoms of each. There are seventeen in total. Coming around from the back of the cutouts, we see Jamie Staggs and Aleksei Koji standing in front of them. Aleksei seems almost a bit nervous as he shakes his head.
Aleksei: Flash cards don’t stand the chance of injuring you before a bit tournament, unless you count a papercut.
Jamie: Relax, scro. It’s not like we’re gonna catch on fire or something. It’s only C4.
Aleksei: ONLY C4? Something tells me, for the first time ever, I might regret making a new friend…
Jamie: Look, you and I have similar styles. And since you are here now, I decided not to spend the thirty extra bucks on making a cutout of you. I would never blow you up intentionally…
Aleksei runs his right hand through his long black hair, staring at the cutouts nervously. He has to look away for a second to avoid freaking out. Jamie stands there just looking calm and collected.
Jamie: I mean, we’re friends, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you have got your ass kicked by so many people in SCW, I don’t even think I need to worry about you in this tournament. Of course I say that with love, scro.
Aleksei: If you weren’t handling explosives, my foot would be up your ass right now. But I say that with love, of course…
Aleksei nods his head reassuringly, still avoiding eye contact with the remote in Jamie’s hand. Instead, he begins to focus on the cut outs, as the lesson might prove useful to him for advancing in the tournament. Jamie takes a step closer to the line of cutouts. He pulls out a bottle of vodka and takes a swig before looking toward his first opponent, Static Clone. He shakes his head slowly, before taking yet another swig. He passes the bottle to Aleksei who practically chugs at the liquor.
Jamie: Static Clone… What can I say about a guy who only has five stats next to his name? He is shorter than me. He is less toned than me most definitely. I am one lean mofo, so this guy must be a twiggy sonuvabitch. I snap twigs in half, and then you know what I do with them after that? I snap them again and again. See, Static Clone isn’t even a bother to me. He comes from my home region, but he wouldn’t be able to cut it in Sin City Wrestling, so he has to go to PRA with the rest of the wannabes. There isn’t a thing I can really say about the guy, because I just don’t give a shit about him. He is a nothing, a real nobody. All he is to me is the guy that I beat to advance to the next round of the tournament. Too bad he is coming all the way across the pond from Puerto Rico to get knocked the fuck out so soon. To advance in a tournament with EIGHTEEN guys in it, you really gotta prove that you are worth a damn in the world of hardcore.
Jamie snags the bottle of vodka back from Aleksei and he knocks back another swig. He lets the bottle hang from his side as he widens one eye while clinching the other. He lets out a loud belch that echoes throughout the field. Aleksei gives a couple claps for it, chuckling in the process. Jamie nods in approval as he turns to the next cut out. PRA’s Jomary, the Women’s Champion, is our next focus.
Jamie: This chick seems pretty hardcore herself. She knows what’s going on in this tournament, and she isn’t backing down. There is something to be said about that. You’re stupid! Look around you, puddin’! You’ve got men like me, for example, who have an entire foot and one hundred pounds on you! You have some high flying moves in your arsenal, but really? Do you think that you can hit a powerbomb on a guy twice your size? You would be lucky to hit one on the other chick in this match, Gothika. I’m not above taking easy victories, but I just feel sorry for you. In my home regions, men don’t hit women. We don’t fight them period. But if you want to step into the ring with me, into this man’s world, then I will show you why it’s the biggest mistake of your life sweetcakes. It’s called KING of the Deathmatch, not QUEEN of the Deathmatch. You are a Women’s Champion, so before you start in with the showmanistic garbage…
Aleksei: Chauvinistic, I think is what you mean.
Jamie: That’s what I said, dammit! Before you start in with… THAT garbage, take a look at what you are wrestling for. There’s places that let women fight men, but you chose to stay in a Women’s Division. Just know that your knowledge of the sport suffers because of that choice, and you made a big mistake entering this tournament, sugarlips.
Jamie takes a quick swig of the vodka bottle before handing it off to Aleksei again. Aleksei chuckles at Jamie’s banter to Jomary as he takes a swig himself. He wi[es at his lips and passes it back to Jamie who steps just a few feet to the side, looking at the next cutout of Lucian Frost.
Jamie: Frost… What can I say about you, a fellow SCW wrestler. You were our first Roulette Champion. Fellow first champions earn a bit of respect from me, since I was half of the first SCW Tag Team Champions. You battled it out in many different hardcore matches. Props, scro. I would almost be afraid of you if you didn’t choke at J-Cup 2012. It happens, I know, but you lost to that ghastly Moo-Cow, Misty! Of all people, you lost to her? I know she can be vicious at times, but that really makes me think you will choke again at another NWA sponsored show, against another chick, and I will wind up facing Jomary instead of you. I’m all for rooting on SCW, since BACW doesn’t have shit to offer in this tournament. Barnes and Di Luca and Newton is a sad offering, really. What about Jack Kraven? What about any member of the Logan family? Gaetan even? What a sad turnout for my second home. But at least you have me…
Aleksei: You are always going off on the tangents my man. Focus…
Jamie looks back to his newly acquired friend and nods his head. He polishes off the bottle of vodka and then tosses it in the air behind him. It shatters as it comes crashing down to the ground behind them.
Jamie: I was trying to say that I want to see an SCW or BACW guy win this thing, but after what we saw at the J-Cup 2012, I don’t think you are it, oh Frosty One. Do you really have what it takes? I guess we will see. I hope I get to face off with you in the second round…
Jamie studies the Frost cutout and a smile creeps upon his face. He looks over to the next one, which is Michael Barnes, and his smile stays the same.
Jamie: Barnes. This was the man who was a double champion when I walked into BACW. He had it all, and I was impressed. Then, in one long night, he lost every bit of it. He lost the Empire State Championship to *shudders* Giani Di Luca. He lost the Heavyweight Championship to Ulfric. He lost the Grinder match in mere moments. And since that night, he has been as useless as a stone footed rooster on a fuck farm. Devil’s Rejects quote for the win, kind sir! Anyway, I almost feel bad for the smug bastard, but since he is said smug bastard, I don’t. I just hope that he proves to the world that he belongs in a tournament with the likes of a Staggs.
Jamie pats the cutout carefully for a moment before moving on to the next smug one, another fellow SCW star in “Primetime” Matthew Kennedy. He studies it for a moment and then he tries so hard not to laugh, but he chokes on the laughter.
Jamie: Look at that prick. Who loses to that guy? Oh, Bo Dreamwolf… Blaque Hart Bruce Evans... Aleks… Ummm, yeah even Casey Williams beat this guy. There isn’t much to say about him except he makes any heel look like a real saint. He’s got a lot of tough words, but not much to back it up except for a monster of a bodyguard and a steel pipe. Speaking of which, I hope to hell that we meet up, because I want to get some revenge for my brother.
Jamie acts as if he is going to take a wild swing at the cutout of the smiling “Prime Time” but he stops short. He just stares at it with cold eyes for a moment. As the darkness of the night approaches, blotting out any real trace of the sun, Jamie’s darkness shines through for just a second. But like a candle in a rain storm, it quickly fades away. He moves on to the next one, Giani Di Luca.
Jamie: This guy… We have a history of violence, and I would love a chance to beat the living hell out of him in the most brutal of matches. Sadly, he is only good for attacking people from behind or with titles. Out of everyone, he is the most out of his element here. I started out fighting in matches like these. He started out in the cushiony world of technical wrestling, in a fancy gym in Jersey… Do fancy things really exist in New Jersey? Well, considering where he is from, it’s fancy. He didn’t have to fight underground dark matches to get noticed. He was on a TV show and got handed everything he got.
Aleksei: Wait a minute, aren’t you on a TV show too?
Jamie: It’s a web series, not a TV show. Giani was on some Jersey Shore rip off show until everyone got tired of him getting handed things. He’s nothing but a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t stand a chance in this tournament, even against Gothika. As much as I have wanted a one-on-one match with this guy, I am giving up on that idea. Maybe I should take a few tips from the guy and act like a giant douchebag so I get title shots.
Aleksei: You already do act like a douchebag though.
Jamie opens his mouth to continue his rant, but then he puts his hands on the side of his face and turns to Aleksei. He starts to give him a dirty look, when he realizes he deserves it. He slowly lowers his arms to his side and then he sighs. The next cutout features Gothika. Jamie just looks at it and shakes his head.
Jamie: Gothika… She is one woman I can see making it into this tournament. She is tall and built, and she has a thing for blood. She is mysterious, but I think she could handle her own in a hardcore match. She could even be Ms. Mothafuckin-Hardcore, but rest assured that she won’t be, because that title is for me and me only! If it comes down to it, she is truly the one I am most worried about in this tournament, and not because she is from SCW. It is because I know what she’s capable of. I would love to see her beat the crap out of Giani, but once we have won our bracket matches, she will be going down…
Jamie moves onto the next couple, barely giving them a glance. He returns his gaze to Kimo Newton, and shakes his head in disgust.
Jamie: I look at this guy, and I see one sad, sad man. I already beat him at BACW’s Last Rites, though I didn’t get the pin on him. He couldn’t stay in the game long enough to break up a simple pin, so why should I think he would stand a chance in making it all the way to the finals to face me? I know I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. Especially when you throw the element of real hardcore into the mix, he doesn’t stand a chance. Flashy jewelry and hookers as bribes don’t win tournaments, “dawg”. Especially not King of the Deathmatch. Where you failed in our last meeting, you will fail in the first round of this tournament.
Jamie looks past him to Andre Dixon. He stands there, studying the young man’s expression before rubbing his chin, deep in thought. Aleksei looks to the cutout, and then to Jamie, even going as far as to wave his hand in Jamie’s face which does no good. As soon as he gives up, Jamie begins speaking.
Jamie: A real cliché of a wrestler is standing in front of me right now. Former hardass doing illegal things decides he wants to hurt people for a living. Do they build these guys in a factory or something? Or am I just lucky to be from a long line of wrestlers? Dealing drugs and keeping a gun at your side must have made you feel like a real gangsta, ‘em I right? You must have come from the “hood” trying to become another success story, when you found out how easy slinging “yayo” and “grass” can be. What you don’t realize just by growing up on the streets is that you won’t get anywhere in a sport that calls for pain and sweat, and blood. You think having a street rep makes you some sort of wrestling prodigy. Well, like that song of theirs, I’m gonna smack my bitch up if we meet in the ring. I’m gonna prove to you that you are just another sad story of the streets. Make it a street fight and I will prove to you why I am already the winner of this tournament.
Jamie continues to shake his head the entire time he has been talking; almost to the point of making Aleksei think he is having a seizure. Once he stops, Jamie moves on to the next victim of his verbal assault, RJ Harris. He looks the figure up and down before grinning.
Jamie: This guy’s got some accomplishments under his many belts. He recently won the World Television Championship from Gaetan LaValle, and he has set the world of WCCW on fire, taking championships and victories. Something about this guy screams “FAVORITE!” It really does seem that a guy like this could go far in this tournament. But looking at him, all I see is a first round drop out. Especially going up against a guy like Aleksei Koji, you won’t be making it out alive, son. You’re walking into the world of hardcore, and I don’t think you got the sack to compete in it on the same level we are. You probably should have just kept away from the sign up sheet, buddy…
Jamie pats the shoulder of the cutout as if giving a friend some solid advice. He shakes his head in dismay before moving on to the next cut out. It is of PRA’s Chris Wrestling.
Jamie: Chris… Wrestling? Is that your real name? I would hope it was your God Given name, because who would create a stage name like that? “Hi, my name is Jamie Wrestling and I demand to be taken serious…” Sorry kid, everyone is laughing at you. So, with a name like that, it’s hard to be “Perfect”. Then, your second strike is that you are Canadian! Who takes Canada serious? Technical wrestling fans do. It’s understandable, because they do have some skill in that department, but they are like almost as bad as French wrestlers! Sound skill, but this isn’t about skill! Who in this tournament realizes that Deathmatches are not about pure wrestling?!? It’s about who can take the most pain, and bleed the most before collapsing! It’s about the determination, and brawling skills! It’s not about suplexes and arm bars! Mr “Wrestling” you might wanna read a form before you fill it out, because you just entered my world son! A world of flaming tables, flying planchas. A world of steel chair shots and shooting star presses. A world of barbed wire and bare-knuckle punches. I hope you are ready for it…
Jamie flinches in the direction of the cutout before mean mugging it. He waves it off and then walks on to the next cutout in Chivo. He stares at it, and then looks back to Jomary and Static Clone and puts his hand up in the Chivo cutout’s face. He then moves on to Angel The Malignant.
Jamie: Another piece of trash crowding this tournament that’s coming all the way from Puerto Rico to get sent home crying. If you are lucky enough to beat Spectre of BACW, then you will get to go on to face Chivo. Between the two of you, I don’t care who wins. My scro, Aleksei here will school either one of you and send you back home. That’s how we do in SCW and BACW! You don’t understand that we are meant to run this tournament. You luchas can fly all over the place, but we will smack you out of the sky… Moving on!
Jamie looks over to the cut out of Spectre. He gives a nod of approval before smiling at the cutout.
Jamie: I’ve heard many, many things about the mighty Spectre. A genius in the art of hardcore. A swift thinker. I hope to get my shot against him to prove just to Mr. Batee that I’m not the kind of guy to open a show. I think Spectre is the way to go to make this happen. Does anyone here doubt me?
Aleksei shakes his head in the negative as Jamie moves on to Chris Xtreme. He looks to Aleksei who seems to almost share his sentiments and logic. Jamie sighs and then looks to the ground, talking to the dirt.
Jamie: PRA is taking up almost half of this tournament. It almost makes me feel bad for beating up on the new kids so much. Almost! They signed up knowing that I’m Jamie Mothafuckin-Hardcore Staggs, so they should have known better. And you, Chris Xtreme, you seems to be one of the tougher challenges next to your Women’s Champion Jomary, that PRA has to offer the tournament. Of course that idea is taken for granite (you mean granted??) since PRA is like the dirt we are standing on, my friend. I just wish that we had more variety from the alliance federations, but we will have to do with kicking around PRA, won’t we dude?
Aleksei nods, wishing there was more alcohol as he listens to Jamie ramble on. Jamie walks up to the second to the last cut out and he has to look up almost a foot. His smile is the biggest and brightest that we’ve seen yet. He chuckles to himself.
Jamie: Ohhh, Casey, Casey, Casey… I don’t want to be mean to this guy, but seriously? Freight Train of Pain? To borrow a line of truth from everyone that has ever faced him, it’s more like the Freight Train of Lame… Constant contradiction from this guy. One minute he is an asshole who is punching people in the face. The next, he is the sweet guy proposing to his slut that he knocked up. Then he’s Mr. Factual Robot dude… If it weren’t for him being so massive, he would be like the kid on the playground that no one can help picking on. New Xtreme, or old news? I might have a helluva time with you in the ring, but at the end of the day, I will rock you to your core, son! No disrespect to what my brother is building, but this is serious. It’s for a shot at the title I respect the most, and I will cross tracks with the Freight Train of Pain to get there. Now on to our last competitor…
(Huh? Who the hell could that be?) As Jamie walks over a few feet, he is standing next to a cutout of himself. He wraps an arm around it and mimics the pose that the cutout is set in. He waits, as if expecting a camera to snap a picture, and then he unwraps his arm from around it.
Jamie: See, this is the guy who is going to take the cake in this tournament. Mmmm, cake… Anyway, I don’t need to repeat myself anymore, but this is the guy who has been through it all. This is the guy with the skills and the knowledge to take this thing all the way back to SCW so that SCW will have two things to be proud of. Two Staggs’ boys holding Number One Contenderships on an Alliance level should not be surprising to anyone. Not to mention, this guy is one sexy beast. I’d go gay for him…
Jamie acts as if he were about to make out with his cutout before he and Aleksei start laughing. Jamie quickly scoops up his cut out and begins running away from the rest. Aleksei joins him, but Jamie trips up and falls forward. As soon as he does, he triggers the explosives, and Aleksei dives down as a huge explosion rocks the place. The fire from the dry season’s grass spreads quickly. Both men look around as the fire nearly engulfs them. Jamie looks at an angry Aleksei with an innocently sweet smile. Suddenly the fire begins nipping at his clothes and he flails around like an idiot on fire.
Aleksei: Stop Drop and ROLL Jamie!
Jamie: It’s not like I haven’t ever been on fire before dude… AHHHHHH!
He stops and drops down to his back and begins frantically rolling around as sirens are heard off in the distance. Aleksei just hits a facepalm as Jamie continues trying to extinguish the fire. The scene fades out… TO BLACK!
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“ drawn on in black paint. He folds his arms over his chest, and he tilts his head back, allowing the lights to shine off of his sunglasses.