Part I: Fitting Together
When one comes to Las Vegas one expects to see all of the sights that are usually synonymous with the city of sin. The casinos, the shows, the dancers. Everyone wants a Las Vegas experience that they can only share with those who lived it, but for some things are a bit different. For some there comes the reality of actually living in the city. Having a home there means one has to have a different outlook on the city. It changes from a place of magic and wonder that will be left behind in a few days to a city like any other yet with it's own unique flavor and personality.
That reality is starting to set in for some who ply their trade for SCW wrestling. For nearly a year now Las Vegas is the city that second generation wrestler Blade Alexander calls home, and that's who we join now. However the city's adopted son isn't in some grand casino. He's not taking in a Wayne Newton show. Today we join the once again brunette Blade inside the Red Velvet Cafe where he's just gotten today's breakfast, an egg, bacon, and swiss bagel. Delicious and healthy.
Mercedes: I don't know what was so bad about the other place... The Alex is highly recommended. It's chef is world famous.
Blade: The problem is it's a pretentious excuse for a place to eat where you get a bunch of tiny things you can't pronounce that looked like you shouldn't eat all for the low price of about $200 a plate. Last time we tried it you remember what happened?
Clearly you can see that Blade isn't alone. He stands outside the eatery alongside his manager, Mercedes on a sunny fall in Vegas day.
Mercedes: Yeah, you wanted to go somewhere else because you were still hungry.
Blade: What did you expect? A seven course meal shouldn't fit in palm of your hand all at the same time. Here is good. It's real food, it's health and best of all, it's right around the corner.
Mercedes: I guess it is pretty good...
The athletic young lady is dressed in a stunning knee length black dress that transitions into a zebra stripe top under a short white denim jacket. Her hair is mostly blonde now, held loosely up in a bun with a shock of black hair in the front cascading down the right side of her face.
Mercedes: What's with the hair anyway? It's brown, it's blonde, it's brown again?
Blade: You know I went blonde for a while when I was teaming with Tyler. It was fine, but I don't need to impress anyone that way. It doesn't make me look like any more of a wrestler.
Mercedes: I always said your talent is your most marketable feature.
Blade: Not to mention my personality.
Mercedes: When it's not biting you in the ass.
Blade is wearing a black designer waistcoat over faded, naturally also designer jeans and a white button up Calvin Klein shirt.
Blade: Biting me? When has it ever bitten me in the ass?
Mercedes: Really?
She looks at Blade in appall.
Mercedes: Are you the SCW Champion right now?
Blade: No.
He says somewhat begrudgingly.
Mercedes: No, you're not. You're not because you ran your mouth about this being your city and about how SCW was going to be your company.
Blade: You know what? Fuck that. Las Vegas is very much still my city. SCW is completely my company and for the past few weeks some people around here have seemed to loose sight of that. I came in and told each and every loser in SCW exactly what I thought of them and that created a stir, but for the past few weeks it's all been like water under the bridge. They're trying to lose me in the shuffle. That's why they've stuck me in this damned tag team tournament with big what's-his-name.
Mercedes: Casey Williams.
Blade: Whatever.
Mercedes: Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth here.
As she says that, the duo reaches the door to their apartment building, Blade opening the door for his manager, he's thinking over what she's said while they walk to the elevator and press the button for their floor.
Blade: Explain.
Mercedes: Well the way I see it, this partnership couldn't come at a better time for either of you. Casey had a tag team partner, but he got sent home. For weeks Casey's been all about winning titles in SCW, specifically the tag team title, but now thanks to Christian Underwood, he's an odd man out.
Blade: And?
Mercedes: You, on the other hand have also had issues with Christian Underwood.
Blade: And what would my issues with him be?
Mercedes: He was the one that brought in Rage. He was the one who signed Rage specifically to compete with you. He's gone out of his way to let these Seven Deadly Sin people bring in another member to SCW in exchange for putting you in their sights.
Blade: And apart from both having beef with Underwood, how does that make this a perfect opportunity for Casey and myself.
Mercedes: This is exactly why I'm your manager. I'm the one who sees how all the pieces fit. Casey needs a partner to win the tag team titles. You can provide him with a partner, and given your track record in tag teams with Tyler Morton as the Cardinal Synners, you can pretty much guarantee him tag team gold.
Blade: And what do I get out of this deal?
Mercedes: You get some much needed muscle. Rage already cost you the SCW title. He's a big, seven foot crazy monster who just wants to beat people up, and do you know the best way to battle someone like that?
Blade: Fight fire with fire.
Mercedes: Now you're getting it. Casey takes care of Rage for you, you take care of the tag titles for Casey. Just like that, everyone benefits.
The elevator door finally opens and both disembark, headed down the hall towards their apartment.
Blade: There's only one bit that still troubles me...
Mercedes: What's that?
Blade: What is Christian Underwood's role in all this.
Mercedes: How do you mean?
Blade: What's he really got against Casey and I, and moreover, why is he pulling strings for the Seven Deadly Sins?
Mercedes looks pensively at her keys thinking over the question as we fade out.
Part 2: Re-ignition
We fade back in on Blade Alexander. This time instead of a casual day scene, he's doing it the way he does best. Behind him hangs the banner with a logo nearly a century old. The NWA logo. Along with that NWA banner hangs a more modern one, one more fitting our current situation and the promotion that's about to pay for what you're about to see, the SCW banner.
Blade: So let me get this straight. Rage doesn't like that I've gone out and said on TV about two months ago that Las Vegas is my fucking city. That's just tough shit isn't it you big dumb bastard? So far no one in SCW has been able to shut me up, let alone prove me wrong. Trust me on this you dumb shit, you wont. You hole merry band of Emo misfits wont either, but if you want to huff, puff, and spit on every microphone in SCW trying to start a war with me...
He smirks.
Blade: Well kid, I'll show you why you never start a war with an Alexander.
He paces back and forth a bit. He's not wearing a casual dress this time because it's all business. He's dressed in his all new ring attire.
Blade: But for now let me put aside the morons that are the Seven Deadly Sins. I'll get to them. For now let me get onto business at hand. The tag team titles. It was barely two weeks ago I threatened SCW and everyone in it that they'd pay a hefty fucking price if they dared team me up with anyone else. Luck for each and every one of you my manager is a pretty crafty slice of trim. If it weren't for her I'd lay out Casey, cripple the fucking Surf Boys and set this whole company on fire, and not in the can't get tickets because it's sold out kind of way. More like the looks like this fire was intentional, officer kind of burned down.
But my old man didn't raise no fool. He taught me well. He taught me that there are some battles you have to fight, and some battles you don't have to fight alone. So looks like old Casey is getting his wish. Sorry your other partner couldn't handle himself in social situations big man. He had that classic the drink after work becomes the drink before work, then it becomes the drink instead of work kind of thing going on, and until he can sort himself out, he's out of a job.
Why do they always call it battling 'personal demons' anyway? He's a drunken piece of shit that cares more about booze than he does anything else. Demons are usually ten feet tall and have horns and tentacles and shit. This is some roided up loser drowning himself in alcohol because he's come to the sad realization that he isn't worth fuck all. He was never going to cut it and you have to realize that with him as your partner you were going to amount to fuck all too. Better to find the nearest barbershop window and toss him through it and more on with your career.
Oh, and by the way, if you don't get that reference then quit now because you're not a professional wrestler and you never will be.
See Casey, in case you haven't figured it the fuck out by now, I don't want to be a threat in SCW, I am a threat.
I'm a threat to the people in charge, I'm a threat to the Seven Deadly Sins, I'm a threat to you, but most immediately I'm a threat to the Surf Boys...
He stops pacing and smiles.
Blade: Now boys... You didn't really think I was going to forget about you did you? You who are such the great tag team that neither one of you even knows what would pass as a wrestling hold? You who are such a dominant force that neither one of you could beat that fat heffer Misty in an arm wrestling contest? You who are such the cunning duo that neither one of you will know that you've been addressed at all?
Boys, do you even know you're supposed to be professional wrestlers? More importantly... Do either of you even own a surf board? I know you call yourselves the surf boys, but I think you guys meant the stoner boys. Hey look...
He points at the camera, then around at nothing really in particular.
Blade: I made a joke just like they did. Funny right? The one thing they are not are the comedy boys. Cowardly boys would have been better. Then you'd at least have the chance to live to fight another day, but now, you'll run headstrong into a battle you can't possibly win then have to face Casey and myself and well... Check with Maoi to see how people end up when they catch me on a bad day.
This is how it is... There could be a lot of things that this match will be, but this is the way it is. Casey and I don't have to like each other. Hell, we don't even have to respect each other, but Mercedes is right about one thing. The both of us are getting jerked around. Even Casey has to be smart enough to recognize that. We're both getting jerked around, but fate has put us in a position to help each other out with our respective problems. This isn't some big opportunity for the both of us to straighten everything out in one day. If I was going to give my tag team partner once bit of advice going into Climax Control, it's that you don't show your hand before the all the chips fall. That's practically a rule here in Vegas. We're going to kill the Surf Boys, but it's not because we can. It's certainly not because we have to. We're just going to end their careers because, well... It's a bit easier than not hurting people that useless. This week our match is more about learning to coexist and not step on each others toes so that when the time does come, things will go the way we want them to, and boy...
He smirks again at the prospect of a team comprised of himself and the deadly Casey Williams.
Blade: They are SO going to go our way.
Fade.
