It didn't take a rocket scientist to see the clues staring him in the face. With Mark Ward on vacation, it was time for Christian Underwood to systematically change Sin City Wrestling by play a few sick games with the resident Mental Rapist. After losing his bid to regain the world heavyweight championship, Sean now had to step in the ring with a bona-fide lunatic in Chris Shipman.
If it was Christian's intent to garner Sean's attention, then it was a success, because Sean now had his total focus on the man who intended to add injury to insult...who seemed fully prepared to feed him to this psychotic neanderthal, and in a hardcore rules match to boot.
Maybe it was Christian's way to further punish him for the illicit remarks towards Gabriel Stevens, a man who most certainly will be a first ballot hall of famer upon retirement. But if that was the case, then the homework should have been more thorough, because Sean too, had a hardcore history.
Milan, Italy
April 10, 2015
The worst thing someone can do is place another person in an unwinnable situation. Maybe Christian Underwood's real problem is with Mr. Shipman, maybe it is actually Shipman who is being fed to the Mental Rapist. After all, can you imagine the frame of mind Mr. Jackson is in, especially after losing his most hyped match to date?
Would disappointed be a strong enough word? would bashing Shipman's skull in, be therapeutic enough to erase the two out of three fall failure to regain his world championship? would breaking every bone in Shipman's body be callous enough for Sean to finally put the loss behind him?
Somewhere in Milan
The camera comes to life showing the former SCW world heavyweight champion walking thru an abandoned building complex. Dressed down in blue jean denim pants and a white t-shirt, this is a much different Sean Jackson that everyone had grown accustomed to. He steps with a purpose amoungst the dilapidated buildings which have been crumbling due to weather erosion and mis-management. After a few more steps, he reaches down and picks up a baseball bat which he places across his shoulder. The beginning to an ominous message about to be delivered.
Sean: Am I supposed to be sweating Christian Underwood? am I supposed to be shaking in my boots? my hands quivering with fear?
He feins a fake smile, not even trying to hide his disappointment with the Sin City Wrestling front office.
Sean: Do you think for one second that I fear Chris Shipman? do you think I will cowar in fear, bail from the ring the moment Shipman steps out on stage? Well if you do, then my actions this coming Sunday is going to change that train of thought forever.
He points at the camera with his free hand.
Sean: You have no idea what Shipman will be in for, the moment he steps foot into that ring. Gabriel Stevens has been extremely lucky, but soon enough, that luck is going to run out. It's going to run out because by the time I'm finished, you will never be able to protect him again.
He steps up to an eight foot wall, huge holes already embedded along it's length, but surprisingly still standing. As he touches the wall with his hand, the message continues.
Sean: But I'm all talk and no action, isn't that right Christian? Gabriel is the world champion now, and there isn't a damn thing that I can do about it, isn't that right Christian? Your little psychotic puppet is just going to step into the ring and ensure that I never bother Gabriel again, isn't that right Christian?
Looking at the wall, he lifts the bat from his shoulder and begins swinging away. The impacts sound like shotgun blasts going off, but the wall continues to stand, even as faint splinters of brick and mortar flies outward.
SHIPMAN!!!
BANG
SHIPMAN!!!
BANG
SHIPMAN!!!
BANG
With every connection, Sean yells out the name of his adversary on Sunday. After a few more shots, he drops the bat in place, the veins sticking out of his arms. As his breathing is slightly labored, and he begins to shake his hands to ease the vibrations...
Sean: Shipman, I implore you. Go ahead and believe the fallacy that I'm no one to worry about. Go ahead and believe that I can't get the job done, that Gabriel Stevens defeated me because I was inadequate. I want you to believe as you come down to the ring, with all your special little goodies, that I will be out of my element. But in doing so Chris, you will put yourself in the ultimate disadvantage because inside of that ring, I'm always in my element.
Taking a few more steps forward, Sean walks up on a box of luminescent light bulbs, the long tubular ones used in long hallways. They were obviously taken out of the buildings that were now scheduled to be demolished, and he had every intention on using them as props.
As he reaches into the box and takes one out, a sly grin begins to form. He takes one step to the left and a light pole comes into view...how convenient.
Sean: Like take these for instance. Their normal job is to bring light to darkness, to make our every day lives a bit more manageable. But they also have another job, don't they Shipman?
The grin gets larger. The look on his face gives away the wheels of evil thought being manufactured in his mind at this time. Without notice, he swings the bulb like a bat, viciously at the pole causing the powder inside and shards of glass to spray outward, a jagged small piece remaining in his hands.
Sean: But I wouldn't know anything about that, would I?
As he drops the bulb, it finishes shattering at his feet.
Sean: No, I'm nothing more than a one trick pony with not a chance in hell of ever regaining my world championship. I'm just a bore, someone who keeps repeating himself like a broken record, who doesn't deserve to be the champion.
He raises an eyebrow, obviously regurgitating the talking points from one Gabriel Stevens, the current world champion.
Sean: I'm just someone who moans and groans, someone who doesn't have what it takes between the ropes and should just lay down in front of the superior roster in front of me. That I'm nowhere close to the great Gabriel, who has transcended our sport. Nowhere close to the fundamental devastation that the great Chris Shipman can bring in a hardcore rules match.
His words are dripping with sarcasm as he continues the message, whether it's intended listeners want to hear it or not.
Sean: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news Chris, but you couldn't be more wrong. You are the first victim being placed in front of me and with what I plan on doing, it would make the Amanda Knox case child's play.
It was becoming painfully obvious that this wasn't going to be the same old Sean Jackson. His reference of Amanda Knox, the use of typical hardcore objects. It was as if Sean Jackson was morphing in front of everyone's eyes. Could it be that Mark Ward was coming back at just the right time?
Sean: When I step into that ring Shipman, it won't be to write poetry and it sure as hell won't be to get an autograph. It will be to rip your beating heart from your chest, it will be to break your body with everything that isn't bolted down.
As Sean takes a couple of more steps forward, he comes to a man standing shirtless in front of him. The man, obviously poor and in bad shape, is willing to do anything for money. As Sean takes a hundred dollar bill from his pocket, he places it in the man's hand, who quickly shoves it in his pocket.
Sean: But that's a typical match in an SCW ring now isn't it?
Sean motions with his head, and the man places his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers. The sound of a gasoline powered engine being cranked up comes from off screen and the man closes his eyes, his body becomes rigid.
Sean: That wouldn't bring fear to anyone, now would it?
The man begins to bite his lower lip, hard. It's as if the anticipation of what's to come has him thinking twice about his decision, but money is money...right?
A weed eater is introduced into the shot. As it is placed in Sean's hands, he revs it up, the nylon strings whipping around faster and faster.
Sean: But this, this would be a different story now wouldn't it?
The man begins to sweat profusely, that sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as his knees start to buckle. He knows what is about to take place, but the lure of easy money causes him to stand in place.
Sean: Of course it would Chris...
Sean then moves it into the abdomen area of the man, causing flesh and blood to shoot outward, screams of pain escaping from the man's lips. He tries to stand in place, but human nature of self preservation takes over and he takes several steps backwards before collapsing on the concrete.
As he turns the weed eater off, Sean hands it off screen and turns his attention away from the bleeding homeless guy.
Sean: It's effective in creating fear. Now granted, you'll probably watch this and shrug it off as something you're used to. You'll probably watch this and spout off that you could take those nylon strings to the abdomen in your sleep...
However, the grin now changes to a detatched form of amusement as something more sinister sweeps over him.
Sean: But Chris, who is to say that my intended target would be your abdomen? who would stop me from tying you to the ropes and unleashing the full power of that flesh eater on your face?
Now the true intention begins to take shape. Could Sean Jackson really have enough hatred in his heart and soul to do something so heinous to another human being? could the loss to Gabriel really be enough for Sean to make due on the threat?
Sean: Shipman, do you honestly think anyone could physically stop me from ending your career? do you think a referee would be strong enough to prevent me from lifting you up, and then compressing the vertabrae in your neck with a hook em horns driver on the exposed concrete floor?
He stops talking, considering the thought for a moment. It was after all the same maneuver that put Jamie Dean and his good friend Justin Halliwell in the hospital.
Sean: Do you honestly think Christian Underwood or Gabriel Stevens would care one little bit about the mental anguish I plan on inflicting? do you think either of them would come down to the ring to save you?
Sean shakes his head no.
Sean: Of course they won't. As long as he can protect his paper champion, Christian wouldn't care who I destroy in the name of retribution. But I know Chris, you will stand there and try to convince the world that you would enjoy this sort of thing. That you are so deranged, so out of touch with reality, that the beating I'll inflict will be welcomed. That you would take every bit of it and ask for more....
He inhales deeply, clearly understanding who his enemy will be this weekend.
Sean: Well Chris, you won't have to ask for more because I will freely dish it to you. I will freely dish it to anyone who stands in my way until this travesty is corrected.
He momentarily closes his eyes, the image of a beaten and bloody Chris Shipman filling his thoughts.
Sean: You can attempt the machismo act if you want, but I can spot a fraud like you from a mile away.
He slowly opens his eyes.
Sean: Mark Ward brought me here because of who I was, and what I could do for him. He brought me to Sin City Wrestling because he knew I could get rid of Drake Green...
He smiles and checks his watch.
Sean: And that's exactly what I did.
As he's talking, Sean begins to make his way forward and away from the complex. As he does so, workers from the site begin to flow into the area as it becomes obvious that the work had been stopped for Sean to cut this video. He takes a few more steps before coming into contact with the job foreman. After placing money into his hands, the foreman stands in the same place as Sean continues forward.
Sean: But since Mark went on vacation, Christian has let the power go to his head and now, now I've got to bring him back to earth. So Shipman, when you make that long walk to the ring, and you're looking into my face...understand that all it takes is one well placed knee into the back of your skull and it will be lights out, game called due to darkness.
The scene fades momentarily, before coming back to a very dark room. It's so dark that you can't see anything, but you can hear the voice of Sean Jackson.
Sean: Shipman, this is what it looks like when I hit the high knee to the back of your skull. In the first one thousandth of a second, the shockwave my knee creates will shift the brain in your skull until it causes a whiplash effect....
A sickening sound of something hard striking flesh is heard. It sounds like maybe a fist colliding with a palm, but with the lights out, no one can be sure.
Sean: An effect that causes the eyes to roll back in your head and for all practical purposes, puts your lights out well before you ever hit the canvas. Much like you see here....
He chuckles.
Sean: Oh wait, that's right...you can't see anything. So answer me this Shipman, how vunerable do you think you'll be in the dark? how vunerable do you think you'll be, stuck in a room where you can't pick out the dangers around you? I would love to turn the lights on for you, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm not in Milan to make you comfortable, I'm not even here to give you a great match. I'm here to make you fear the darkness...I'm here to make you fear me, and believe me, when I'm finished. You will fear me.
With a snap of the finger, lights come on and Sean Jackson is seated in a chair, in the middle of an empty room. Leaning forward, his arms on the arm rest, fingers clasped together.
Sean: Welcome back Mark, I hope your vacation was well deserved. While you were gone, a few things have changed.
Sean unclasps his fingers, while leaning back in his seat.
Sean: Most notably my trust in the front office. When you wanted Drake Green taken out, I did the job for you. When you wanted the world title for Hot Stuff International, once again I did the job for you.
Inhale.exhale
Sean: But in your absense, Christian decided that he didn't want me as the champion any longer. He's done everything imaginable to ensure that I wouldn't be the champion, and now he's placed Chris Shipman in my path. Well Mark, with all due respect, it's time for Sean Jackson to become the most feared man in this company. Until that world title comes back home to me, I plan on destroying every man or woman who dares stand in my way. It is time to choke the life from the roster, to make examples of everyone who refuses to see the travesty that took place in front of their very eyes.
He looks down at his right knee, the one he uses to deliver the devastating lights out finisher.
Sean: Mark you know me, you know I don't make these threats lightly. But sometimes an example is warranted, because it paints a better picture than words. So I want everyone to pay close attention to my match with Shipman, I want everyone to time stamp this moment, the moment I served notice to the wrestling world that Christian Underwood and Gabriel Stevens created a monster....
Sean stands.
Sean: A monster hell bent on destroying everyone.
As he walks away, the scene fades.
