[Christian Underwood]

 Post your RPs here!

[Giani Di Luca]

 ”Oh no… it’s starting already… Can’t I freakin’ get through one depressin’ holiday before havin’ to think about another one?”

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LAX is live and well with holiday travelers, eager to get to their families for some turkey and pumpkin pie, coupled with reminiscing of fond memories.  The joy and laughter echo throughout the terminals almost as loudly as the piano rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” by Michael Bublé.  Children laughing, bells ringing, and rushing businessmen hustle past one lonely figure that seems to be a bit confused about his course of action.  He is shrouded by a white hood.  However, it is no mystery who he is as the red, white, and green “Italian Stallion” logo comes in to view.

”Even if I didn’t tell my family to fuck off a few months ago, I really don’t think I would wanna go back there anyway.  But where else would I go?  I burned every damn bridge I had, so why am I so surprised?”

Giani lifts back his hood a bit as he looks around him.  The boards in front of him read just about any destination one could think of with tickets still available.  Not to mention that Giani has a jet that he could summon at any time, but even thinking about a private jet just made him feel like an even bigger sell out.  Of course, if he knew what he even wanted to do, it could be quite useful to him right about now.

”I remember visits this time of year from nona Francisca… If that woman wasn’t a real saputa, then I dunno what to say about her.  Tough as nails, and if she told ya the sky was purple, ya better believe the damn thing was purple.  But she never let no one dawg on her favorite grandson.  All she had to hear was that this American holiday involved a lot of cookin’, and she was on the first plane over from Sicily.  I keep catchin’ myself lookin’ around for her here tonight, but of course, she ain’t here…”

Giani lowers his eyes from the board of quickly changing departure times for the various flights.  Newark International stays available, but he can’t seem to decide where he wants to go.  He simply turns around and looks to the exit of the airport.  He takes a few steps toward it, a blank stare on his face as a younger, dark haired security guard approaches him with a suspicious look upon his face.

Guard:  Excuse me sir, but do you mind if I take a look through your duffel bag?

Giani raises an eyebrow at the guard, but the sullen look in his eyes doesn’t disappear.  He lifts his bag up for easier access from the guard, looking away as her rips the bag from Giani’s hand.  He unzips the bag, pulling out his belongings, rudely tossing them on the ground.  The white boots, a red knee pad followed by a red elbow pad, and then his red “Italian Stallion” tights are flung out for everyone to see.  Giani watches, his teeth gritted as he tries his best to keep his cool.  The guard pulls out a pair of thong underwear, raising a curious brow at Giani who shrugs.

Giani:  John Tucker was right… it’s like givin’ a cozy hammock to ya best friend, especially in those tights.

Off in the distance, a few female gawkers, as well as a very burly man, nod their heads as wide smiles creep over their faces. The guard rummages through a few other items before looking Giani in the face.  He notices exactly who he is dealing with, and a big smile comes over his face.  The guard quickly gathers the belongings from the ground and shoves them back in the bag.

Guard:  Oh my God, bro… I can’t believe this…

The guard gently zips the bag, his cheeks flushing with red as the gawkers slowly start to dissipate, hoping to have seen a beat down of epic proportions.  Giani rips his bag from the guard, but can’t help wondering where the change of heart came from.

Guard:  Dude, could you possibly forgive me?  I… I had no idea who you were.  With the unkempt face and glazed over eyes, I was thinking Al Qaeda in training or something,  Oh!

The guard pulls out his walkie talkie and he tries his best to whisper into it, but Giani hears “ixnay on the ambush-way at entranceway-way… over”  Giani’s brows furl even further as he turns away to walk toward the exit as the guard tries to follow him.

Guard:  C’mon!  Forgettaboudit bro!  I totally watched that show with you and the gang on the Shore.  You know, the Jersey Shore knock off reality show?  You’re Giani Di-Freakin’ Luca!

Giani:  I recently dropped the “Freakin’” from my name, bro.  As ya saw when you was tearin’ up my bag, I’m a wrestler now.

Guard:  No shit?  That actually worked out for you?  Could you get me The Rock’s autograph?

Giani looks at him for a solid minute with his eyebrows raised.  He shakes his head in disbelief, trying to figure out how someone like this could have any part in protecting people from anything more than a medium-sized fly, let alone any real threat.

Giani:  Look… bro?  Ya seem like a nice… no… Um…?  Cool?  Nah, that’s not right either.  Smart?  Hmmm, probably not.  Look, ya seem like… a guy.  A plain, simple, boring guy who means well, but I really gotta figure out what I’m gonna do for the week.  What, with Thankgivin’ and all.

Guard:  You could join me and my wife and kids!  They would love to learn how to fist pump!  Like * uhnce uhnce uhnce uhnce uhnce uhnce*

Giani:  Yeah, no thank you… I was thinking… I dunno, like family… some broad, or broads, from Club LAX in Vegas.  Not some creepy dude who has my underwear stickin’ outta his shirt pocket like I wouldn’t notice…

Giani pulls the black thong underwear from the man’s breast pocket, sliding it back into his duffel bag, zipping the bag behind him.  He shakes his head at the guard as he tries to work his way back to Giani, attempting to plead with him.

Guard:  Look, I was only going to sell them on eBay, definitely not anything else.  Yeah, definitely not…

“Hey, leave the guy alone already!”

Giani turns around to see Spike Staggs standing a few feet away, dripping with rain as he approaches the two men standing off to the side of the incoming traffic.  Giani couldn’t be any happier to see Spike than he was right about now.  Spike looks menacing as he approaches the timid guard, who holds his hands up in surrender as he slowly backs away.  Giani shakes his head, sighing in relief as he turns with Spike toward the exit.

Giani:  Gah… thanks bro.  That dude was givin’ me a Norman Bates kinda vibe.

Spike:  Nah… probably more like Buffalo Bill…

Giani does his infamous laugh as he looks back at the guard who is still watching the pair from a nearby pillar.  Giani picks his bag up from the ground and flings it over his shoulder as he looks back to the board.  Almost as if it were a sign, the Newark International pops up in three different places at once, stating that tickets are still available.  He sighs as he looks over to Spike.

Giani:  I guess the quest for redemption continues… I better try to make amends with my family while their hearts are open a little with the holidays comin’ up…

Giani reaches out for a handshake and Spike takes it.  After a firm shake, Giani tries to pull away, but Spike gives him a look, causing Giani to get a bit confused.  He realizes that Spike is studying him.

Giani:  Don’t gimme that look, dawg… I seen all 8 seasons of Dexter, and…

Spike:  What?  No… I was just thinking about a conversation we had when we first met, back when I scouted you for the New X-Tremes.

Giani:  Look, it was one time, and I had a few too many drinks, and that didn’t look nothin’ like a dude.  It don’t mean nothin’ cause I didn’t return the favor…

Spike squints in confusion for a second, seeming taken aback by Giani’s admission.  He tries to hide his laughter, but it only deepens the chuckling.  He lets go of Giani’s hand, taking a second to get over it as Giani growls at his mistake.

Spike:  No, no, no… Though if I had remembered that a month ago, I would have loved to share that with the world.  No, I was referring to the conversation about your family.  The one where you almost had me convinced they all died in a Luciferian Church fire caused by a dragon statue.  Do you remember what I’m talking about?

Giani:  Yeah… except it was a Catholic church and a rogue frankincense fire, and nobody was even hurt… damn luck.

Spike:  Once you told me they tried to sacrifice you to Beelzebub when you were 13, I realized that you were full of shit.  But what stuck out to me was that you obviously didn’t have any familial support, ever.

Giani:  That’s not all the way true.  My nona was a freakin’ Saint.

Spike nods his head, as if something had connected for him.  Something had hit home with him, making him realize that he wasn’t far off when he said that he and Giani were more similar than either would like to admit.

Spike:  I raised my brothers because my parents were so wrapped up in their own bullshit, so I completely get where you are coming from.  I had to learn to stop being mad and just let them go.  I started a family of my own.  Not that I was the greatest at first, but now my family is tighter than ever.  Two beautiful children, a soul mate/mother, two aunts, and four uncles that mean the world to me and my children.

Giani counts on his fingers, trying to do the math, but he can’t seem to turn 1 into 2, or 2 into 4.  Spike senses this, and cuts him off before it gets too embarrassing for him.

Spike:  Jamie, Tommy, Mickey, and… well, hopefully you?  New X-Tremes isn’t just a stable in an Indy wrestling federation.  We’re a family.  That was always my goal.  Someone once called us the Island of Misfit Toys, and you know what?  I take that as a compliment.  We got to choose our family since the rest of our family abandoned us.

Giani nods his head, saying nothing as he seems to have been struck heavily by Spike’s words.  He tries to say something, but it only comes out as a raspy mess of incompatible vowels.

Spike:  I am in full support of your quest for redemption, Giani.  I think everyone deserves the chance, but it isn’t redemption when you aren’t the one who wronged the others.  It sucks, but that is the fact of the matter, brother.  I would look in an entirely different direction, Giani.

Giani:  But… what ya don’t realize is that we ain’t family, Spike.  We’re friends, and I use that term as loosely as Lizzie Short, cause Mickey, Vixen, and Jessie made it very clear that they don’t trust me.  I can only assume ya brothers ain’t in no hurry to embrace me neither.  It ain’t like ya gonna invite me to Thanksgivin’ dinner or…

Spike:  Who the fuck said you weren’t invited?  Family isn’t perfect, but family comes together to help one another.  I’m not going to let you eat a turkey club at the corner deli, alone on Thanksgiving.  It’s just not going to happen.  That’s why I came here in the first place.  A friend of mine told me he saw you standing here for almost an hour, and you know that he called me about two hours ago to tell me that?  That’s when I realized you didn’t have anywhere to go, and I headed back this way, hoping to catch you.

Giani rolls his eyes, refusing to believe Spike.  Spike yanks Giani’s bag from him and flings it over his own shoulder, heading toward the door.

Giani:  The fuck are ya doin’ dawg?

Spike:  Throwing your shit in my car, and not giving you a choice but to join us for Thanksgiving dinner.  Capiche?

Spike doesn’t stick around for an answer from Giani.  He walks outside into the pouring rain, walking down the sidewalk toward his metallic gray Mustang.  He flings the back passengers side door open as Giani chases him down.  Spike tosses the bag into his seat, leaving the door open as he goes around to the driver’s door, opening it up as he gets inside, starting the engine.  Giani reaches the car as Spike looks back at him.  Giani rips his bag from Spike’s back seat, holding it as he stares at Spike with an intense glare.  Spike is surprised when Giani slowly gets inside the car, shutting the door behind him.  Spike turns his left blinker on and pulls out of the spot as we fade.


{I Got My Speakers On Wrecked!}


{Somewhere I Belong}

The Staggs’ Family Thanksgiving is a lot bigger than one would expect.  For the last decade, no matter what was going on, the family always got together to celebrate the one thing they were always thankful for, togetherness.  Over the last several years, people have come and gone, but there was not an enemy or stranger on this day.  This year was no different, but for one person, it meant everything to them.  The crimson colored siding of the house seemed to glow in the orange sunset.  As we get closer, we can see through the window as Eden and Timmy are covered in Christmas lights and garland as they twirl around in it.  They laugh as they come closer to the tree.  Off to the left, we see Spike hanging a piece of mistletoe in the doorway.  Vixen quickly comes around the corner, making sure to cash in on the promise of the symbol.  She wraps her arms around Spike’s neck, but before their lips can meet, Mickey Carroll “accidentally” bumps Spike out of the way.  He shrugs his shoulders as Vixen frowns.

Giani closes the door of his Escalade, carrying two white bakery boxes in his hand as he smiles, nervously walking up the stone walkway, headed toward the steps to the front porch.  He stops, watching the action from the window, a genuine smile spreading across his face.  He takes a deep breath before turning toward the door.  He gives it a firm knock, waiting patiently in the chilly breeze.

”I don’t even know how this thing is supposed to work, but it’s about time I gave myself the chance to be a part of somethin’…  Uncle Giani, has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”

Giani begins to tap his foot in an attempt to forget the cold weather.  He looks up just in time to hear the locks on the door click.  As it opens, Vixen stands at the door, wearing lacy crimson tank top with a black sheer blouse over it, and a pair of flared out hip hugging jeans.  Giani is somehow able to keep his eyes focused on her face, even though she is glaring at him.  She takes a deep breath and forces a smile onto her face.

Vixen:  Giani… please come in, won’t you?

Giani nods his head as Vixen steps out of the way, welcoming Giani into their home.  Giani pauses in the doorway as Vixen accepts the boxes from Giani.  He unbuttons his black dress jacket and slides it off onto his arm before removing his black skull cap, and his black and white checkered scarf.  He hangs them on the coat rack behind the door, straightening out his black satin vest.

Vixen:  You clean up very nicely, Giani.

Giani:  Huh?  Oh, thanks… Ain’t no secret Vixen Lefeb… uh, THE Vixen is always lookin’ her best.

Vixen stares at Giani as if she senses he is hitting on her, but his eyes wander around the hallway as he brushes a few pieces of lint from his otherwise perfectly pressed black dress pants and white dress shirt.

Giani:  Ya got a lovely home, here.  And the food smells wonderful.  I bet you are a bomb ass cook…

Vixen:  Actually, it is Spike who has taken charge of tonight’s dinner preparation.  He is, as you say, a “bomb ass” cook, though.

Vixen’s French-Canadian accent seems to tickle Giani’s ears, having been a while since he heard her speak in such a casual tone.  He nods his head as Vixen starts to walk toward a set of stairs.  Before they reach the turn to the living room in front of the stairs, Giani grabs onto Vixen’s hand, gently.  She readies herself to slap him out of instinct, but Giani immediately releases her hand.

Giani:  I… I don’t want tonight to be awkward at all.  I want ya to know that I wasn’t lyin’ about what I said earlier this week.  I know I been a shitty person over the last few years, but I really do wanna change.  I know it’s gonna take more than a few days to prove it, but for Spike’s sake, I wanna do what I can to not fight tonight.

Vixen:  For Spike’s sake, I would like that very much as well, though I think one night without fighting would not be good enough for him.  We might want to make this a permanent thing, okay?

Giani nods his head, smiling as he reaches out for a handshake treaty.  Vixen accepts his hand, but has a much more firm shake than he would have expected.  She pulls him down to her level, her eyes lighting on fire as she stares into his.

Vixen:  But don’t mistake that for meaning I’m an idiot.  Just because I am tactful, this does not mean that I’m not keeping a very close eye on you for now.  Do we have an understanding?

Giani:  Capiche…

Vixen nods her head, letting go of Giani’s hand.  She leads the way toward the crossway to the living room.  Giani plasters a smile on his face as he walks behind Vixen.  Giani looks around to see the glares from Mickey Carroll, as well as Spike’s two children.  Giani’s smile fades as he simply waves with an innocent laugh.

”Yeah… I don’t feel the familial connection you was talkin’ about, Spike… This night is gonna go on forever, isn’t it?”

Eden:  Are you the guy who was mean to my daddy?  I think he said your name was Dumbbutt Poopyhead Punk B-word.

Timmy laughs and Eden stomps her foot angrily, turning around with her hand on her hip as she scowls at him.  It is hard to take serious with garland dangling from her face, but this five year old means business.

Eden:  Well I can’t say the real thing cause I don’t want to put my allowance in the swear jar!  That’s two weeks of monies, Timmy!

Giani:  Well, my given name is Giani Di Luca, but yeah, that’s me… Dumbass Shithead Punk Bitch…

Eden:  Swear jar, mister!  That’s five dollars!

Giani reluctantly reaches into his pocket as Timmy and Mickey laugh at him.  He thumbs through his wallet, taking a deep breath as he looks down at the most serious Mini-Me of Misty he could have ever imagined.

Giani:  Seems kinda harsh for a couple of words you can say on network television…

Eden:  If you can’t afford it, then don’t say them.

Giani:  Little lady, I could afford to recite every Quentin Tarantino movie five times over if I wanted to.

Timmy & Mickey: *cou-DOUCHE-gh*

Eden:  That’s fifty cents each!

Before anyone can say anything, Spike comes out of the kitchen wearing the infamous “Mr. Mom” apron given to him by a dear “friend” of his.  He wears it over his black sweater with heavy white stitching randomly placed over it.  He comes over and gives Giani a warm hug.

Spike:  Welcome, brother!  Make yourself at home.  Can I get you anything to drink?  Beer, soda, wine, water...?

Giani:  Alcohol now please?!  Ummm, I mean, I might take a beer or ten.

Spike looks around at everyone else in the room, staring a hole through each and every one of them.  Eden comes up and grabs onto Spike’s leg innocently as she joins in on the scolding glare.

Spike:  I think we need to get some fuhh, er, flipping manners around here. Giani is a guest in this home, and I expect everyone to be treated with dignity and kindness in this home.  Is that understood?

Mickey:  Yeah, pops… I get it.  Be nice to the tosser, or no dessert, yeah?

Spike:  No, you can have dessert, but this dinner might become a dry party if you aren’t careful Mr. Carroll…

Mickey gets up from the chair and his eyes widen.  He stomps his foot and lets out a loud groan of displeasure as he takes off to the crossway, whining.

Mickey:  Awww!  You never let me have any fun!  I should just run away…

Spike chuckles as he shakes his head from side to side at Mickey’s joke.  Spike nods at Giani, motioning for him to come into the kitchen.  Giani follows as Spike walks over to the fridge, grabbing out two Budweiser longnecks.  He cracks the lid off of on and hands it to Giani before cracking one off for himself.  Giani chugs it, practically finishing it in a second, leaving just a few sips so not to seem like a raging alcoholic.

Spike:  Thanks for coming.  I know I didn’t really give you much of a choice, but it still means a lot to me.  I believe in you, and I just want to give everyone else a chance to see what I see.

Giani:  I’m in no hurry for them to warm up to me.  Let it happen when it’s ready.  The main thing is that I’m gonna help right the wrong that I did to ya guys by leavin’ ya hangin’ when ya needed me.  I’m gonna make sure I get the Heavyweight title, and we’ll make folks realize that NXT is all but dead.

Spike:  Look, I appreciate that, but I want you to do it for yourself first and foremost.  If you go out there thinking that we are going to respect you more if you win… that’s going to put a ton of pressure on you, and… truth be told, I don’t think every piece of SCW gold around your waist would matter much to them.  Plus, you would be adding a lot of unnecessary pressure onto yourself, and with an opponent like Goth, that could be very dangerous, especially since you let your ego get the better of you when you agreed to an “I Quit” stipulation.

Giani takes a sip from his beer as Spike stops to take one himself.  Giani nods his head, understanding Spike’s point, however, he doesn’t agree with something.

Giani:  Goth beat me one time.  I loved bringing that up, but the fact of the matter is that he beat me cause I was strapped down with a big disappointment of a partner.  Nick Jones went from a somebody to a nobody, and his ego hasn’t adjusted properly.  He still thinks he can compete with the top dogs, draggin’ me down in the process.  When I beat him, I was strapped down with a kid who didn’t know an Arm Bar from a Wrist Lock, and I still beat him three times in tag competition, and in our only other one-on-one encounter.  I whooped his ass, yet he wants to brag about one victory to my four?

Spike:  Just keep in mind that this isn’t a regular match.  Anything goes in this contest.  Weapons, gang attacks, whatever it takes to make the other say those two words.  It’s not like you can go in there and win it by showboating and fist pumping.

Giani:  Bro?  Bro, listen to me.  I am the Number One Contender.  Do ya remember how I got that slot?  It wasn’t in a simple one-on-one, regular rules contest.  I beat not one, not two, but three other guys in a Graveyard Match.  Nothin’ about that match was familiar to me except exchangin’ a few hits with Simon in a Battle Royal a few months before.  But guess what?  I won, and I won for a reason.  I’m not the same kid ya met a year and a half ago.  I’m not the pretty boy who is afraid to get his hands dirty.  I’m ready to be the first champion to hold and defend that belt with pride since you held it.  That belt belongs with NXT, and that is why I’m gonna wear the armband into this match with pride, and I’m gonna do it for all of us.

Giani’s face shows off intensity and determination as he refuses to give in to the idea that he has to be selfish.  He truly has changed, because just a few short months ago, if something wasn’t about him, then it did not include him.  Spike follows Giani’s logic, but just as he is about to speak up, a throat is heard clearing behind them.  As both men turn around, they see a couple of surprising guests.

Tommy Staggs:  Hey, brother?  That metalhead chick and her sibs are out there, and I think her and her boyfriend are going to “Christen” your porch swing…

Tommy stands next to his long time girlfriend, the raven-haired Desiree.  Spike’s jaw practically drops as he rushes over to his brother, giving him a big hug, laughing out of pure joy as he refuses to let him brother go.  Giani smiles, lifting his beer up as if to toast to this occasion.

Spike:  When did you get out?  And why the hell didn’t you call me to tell me?

Tommy just stares at Giani as if he isn’t sure how to take him, or the situation.  He forces a smile onto his face as he looks to Spike.  Spike holds a finger back in Giani’s direction as he and Tommy walk out of the kitchen, followed by Desiree.  Giani polishes off his beer and then tosses it into the trashcan next to the fridge.  He pulls another beer out, popping the top off on the counter.  He takes another slow, yet long sip, enjoying a small amount of silence that doesn’t seem to last very long at all.  He comes face to face with a man that he knows all too well, and both men just glare at each other.

Jamie Staggs:  Sup scro?

This time, Giani is truly speechless.  The thought had escaped his mind that it was even possible that he would see Jamie tonight.  He glances over to see that Jamie has a little blonde baby boy in his arms, cradling him close to his chest, dropping a diaper bag next to the island counter of the kitchen.  Giani simply lifts his chin in the air as a mild “sup” sort of response.

Jamie:  So, I heard you were back in town, trying to get all friendly and shit with my brother, making apologies to everyone?

Giani:  Look, Jamie… I was gonna come to ya and apologize for all the shit that went down.  When I turned on you and the gang, attacking Spike in the ring, I knew that I hurt you the most with what I done… I planned on apologizin’ to ya in person, but things have been so crazy and…

Jamie:  Save it, ball sack.  I got one thing to say to you right here, right now, mano y mano.  So you better listen up and…

Giani:  Did you learn sign language, or did ya just misunderstand that phrase?

Jamie:  Shushhhhhhhhh pleeeeeease!

Jamie dramatically waves his free hand in front of Giani to silence him.  He walks up slowly to Giani, adjusting his son in his arms as he widens his eyes in a serious manner.  Giani doesn’t flinch as he stares into the eyes of the man with which he’s shared a very sordid past.  He knows that he deserves what is to come, so he doesn’t even bother to stop it, and…

Jamie:  Fuh-geddaboudit dude…

Giani:  What the…?  Wait, huh?

Jamie:  You shoulda seen the look on your face.  It’s like you were gonna shit a brick or something… Look, don’t worry about it.  If anyone understands, it’s me.  I might not be the brightest crayon in the tool shed, but I get it.  Do you know how many times I screwed Spike over in and outta the business?  Do you know how many times we’ve almost killed each other?  Yet, here I am, in his home, getting ready to eat some bomb ass turkey and watching our kids play together.  It’s not weird that you’re here.  It’s weird that I’m here, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am, and I’m fuckin’ happy for that.  Plus, with how often I used to fuck with you in BACW, I deserved to get the two bird salute.  You don’t have to apologize to me, man… We’re good.

Jamie adjusts his son one last time before he gets fussy.  Jamie does his best to handle his infant son properly while reaching down for the diaper bag, but Giani steps up, grabbing it for him and handing it to Jamie.  Jamie extends his son toward Giani so that he can fumble through the bag, but also in a manner that shows complete trust with his most precious belonging.  Giani reluctantly accepts it, and the baby’s crying settles down a bit.  Giani keeps a stone-like expression, but his eyes show a wondrous sort of reaction that Jamie picks up on immediately.

Jamie:  Yeah… me too.  What kind of God thought it was a good idea to make me fertile?  Never wanted a kid because I knew I would be a shitty parent.  I never liked holding kids, but this one was different.  I realized that I always wanted a kid, but it scared me.  I can see the look in your eye right now, you feel it too.

Giani:  When the fuck did ya become a wise man, Jamie?  It’s like I entered some weird alternate universe or somethin’…

Jamie shrugs his shoulders as he pulls out a bottle, feeling to make sure it is the right temperature before propping the bottle up in Giani’s hand.  The baby takes to it, silencing as it gulps down the formula.

Giani:  Who the hell thinks of callin’ a chick he met at a bakery yesterday when holdin’ a baby?

Jamie:  Someone who is ready to get serious about life only he doesn’t know it yet?  Or, like subsequently you really want to put your baby maker to use… Could be either really.  What’s she look like?

Giani:  Bro, bro, bro… Fit as fuck, stacked in all the right places.  Blonde hair and blue eyes, true shorty straight from the Midwest.  Corn-fed.  She even call soda “pop”, dude… She seems kinda naïve, but with a name like Dixie, what else do you expect?  Just makes me wonder if I got it in me to behave…

Jamie:  Dixie, huh?  Heh heh… Sound, er, hot?

Jamie chuckles to himself as a wide smile spreads over his face.  He turns around and walks out of the kitchen, covering his mouth as he snickers.  Giani raises an eyebrow at Jamie.  He shakes his head and slowly follows Jamie’s path to the living room.

Giani:  Could ya please share what ya think is so damn funnnn…

Giani steps foot into the living room with everyone else, spotting someone he had not seen yet.  Standing next to Tommy and Desiree is a short blonde with blue eyes, causing Giani to stop dead in his tracks.  He sees Dixie from the bakery as Jamie nearly collapses, laughing at Giani, who hasn’t pieced together exactly who she is yet.  Dixie stares up at him in a bit of confusion.  The oven timer goes off as we fade out.


{I Got My Speakers On Wrecked!}


{Cut Scene/Vlog}

The camera pops on with the sound of a speaker popping.  A hand is seen in front of the lens, quickly disappearing.  In a rather different sort of setting, we pan inside of a wide open office.  The camera is focused in on a black day bed with red and black pillows on the edges.  Rather than some long build up, Giani walks right over to the day bed, sitting down in nothing but a pair of gray fleece pajama bottoms with skull and skull and crossbones patterned all over them.  He puffs his chiseled chest out, cracking his back in the process.  He runs his hands over his faux hawk, making sure it is somewhat presentable before clicking his jaw and pointing toward the camera with a sly chuckle.

Giani:  Haha, yeah… I figured I would change things up a little bit, yaknowhatimsayin’?  I’m comin’ atcha with some serious realness.  But, if that wasn’t enough, it’s about to get really, really real up in here…

Giani slowly leans back in his seat, getting even more comfortable.  The morning sleepiness is still present on his face as is made evident with the sun peering through the far window.

Giani:  A lot of folks out there have been comin’ to me saying stuff like, “Yo, dawg… Are you really ready to be the SCW Heavyweight Champion?”  or “Giani?  You realize ya facin’ Goth in one of the most possibly brutal matches of ya life?”  What do I look like, a freakin’ idiot?  Of course I know what I got myself in to.  I’ve competed in Death Matches, Graveyard Matches, First Blood Cage Matches, Parking Lot Brawls… Nobody seems to realize that I can handle mine in anythin’ and everythin’ I do.  With or without weapons, I ain’t afraid of any fight.  Especially against someone I’ve already defeated four times.

Giani smirks and gives the camera a wink before laughing at his own inside joke.  He scratches his chest gently before leaning up a bit to show his confidence.

Giani:  But to ask “The Italian Stallion” of Sin City Wrestlin’ if he’s ready to be their Heavyweight Champion is absurd.  To quote Blade… I was born ready mothafucka… The second I entered this business, I had my eyes on the top prize.  Back in BACW, I held their Empire State Championship for six, count’em, one, two, three, four, five, six… SIX MONTHS!!!  The only reason I even dropped the title was because I had my eyes set on somethin’ much bigger and much better.  I was ready to come to Vegas to play in the big leagues.  I was done playin’ for some two-bit promotion, or who knows, I might still have that belt a year and a half later.

The sound of a Skype message is heard beeping, but Giani doesn’t pay attention to it.  He picks up one of the pillows and props his head up with it as he leans toward the wall a bit more.

Giani:  Why am I bringin’ up old news like this?  I mean, who in SCW cares about what happened almost 2 years ago in New York, right?  The point is that I took a belt that was passed around like a hot potato because nobody wanted it, or could hold onto it, and I turned it into a hot commodity, takin’ down any asshole they threw at me every other week.  It is because of me that the belt actually meant somethin’ again in that place.  Sound familiar?

Giani looks straight into the camera as he points a clicker at the screen.  Momentarily, a picture of the SCW Heavyweight belt comes into view.  It is a prototype picture without an engraved name plate on it.  As the picture fades back to Giani in the room, he has a slick smile on his face.

Giani:  I’ve heard rumors from all over the place rangin’ from SCW practically beggin’ folks that have left the ranks to return for a crack at the belt, to the place shuttin’ down.  The latter ain’t true from what I heard, but the fact that this stuff is bein’ said should tell ya the state that we’re in.  I said I was gonna get real up in here.  If ya can’t handle it, back on outta this promo, dawg.  But if ya ready for some truth, let me drop it on ya… All it’s gonna take is one true champion to come in on his white horse and save this place from the rumor mill.

Giani wastes no time pointing to himself, as if the implication weren’t already that obvious.  He brings his thumbs back down to his side as he leans forward, thinking silently for a second.

Giani:  I know I probably ain’t ya first choice for the job, but when I beat Goth in just over a week, ya gonna thank me.  I’m gonna show ya a true champion who knows how to take charge.  I ain’t gonna lose the belt in a week, or try to shove it off on someone else cause I can’t handle the pressure.  I’m gonna wear that belt with pride, and I’m gonna defend it with honor.  I’m gonna prove to every single SCW Star, Bombshell, crew, staff, and fans that Giani Di Luca’s got what it takes to carry SCW on his shoulders.  Goth, and every champion since Kevin Carter in his first “reign”, has one major thing in common.  They were selfish.  They didn’t think about nobody but themselves.  They didn’t have no one to prove themselves to, cause none of them cared about anythin’ but themselves.

Giani hears another quick series of Skype alerts and he shakes his head.  He leans forward, squinting to read them before he starts laughing.  He shakes his head and looks directly into the camera.

Giani:  Look at this joker… He says that I haven’t cared about anyone but myself since I was a kid.  Sure, I’ve been a jackass for a while now, but here’s some more reality for ya… I been changin’.  I been tryin’ to make up for all the crap I done over the last couple years.  I do care about people… and stuff… I coulda just tanked the Number One Contendership match and let some other bozo go on and face Goth at December 2 Dismember, but I wanted a change.  I wanted to see someone who actually stands a chance at makin’ SCW a better place.  I look around me, and I don’t see nobody worthy of fixin’ things up around here other than me.  Is that selfish?  Nah, it woulda been selfish of me not to have won the Contendership, and sit back to do nothin’ while this place sinks under the leadership of another bogus *air quotes* champion.  I could get work anywhere, but there’s somethin’ about SCW that just feels like home, and I wanna keep it that way.

With this, Giani gets up and walks over toward the screen.  He sits down, adjusting the camera a bit so that it focuses in on his face.  He lets the determination show as he looks deep into the camera as if talking to one person specifically.

Giani:  Goth, do ya’self and SCW a favor and say “I Quit” as soon as the bell rings.  SCW don’t need you slackin’ off and chasin’ wizards in cloaks.  You can hand that belt over to me, and I’ll do what needs to be done with it.  But, since you’re a dumbass, we both know ya won’t be doin’ that.  It’s okay though, cause I plan on makin’ ya squeal like ya name was Porky Freakin’ Pig, bro!  No doubt, you’re gonna give me hell, but in the end, I’m so confident that I would bet on the fact that I will make ya say, no, SCREAM those two little words.  At December 2 Dismember… ya finished, Gene Simmons.  You ain’t even gonna know what hit ya, bro…

Giani smiles as if he is enjoying giving bad news to Goth himself.  He shrugs his shoulders and then laughs.  He winks and points his index fingers out toward the camera, clicking his jaw before mumbling “Peace”.  Then we fade out all the way to black.

{End Cut Scene Vlog}


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


{fin}

[Staggs]

 The first deadline has now passed. Anything after this will count for Round 2

[Giani Di Luca]

 {{{OOC NOTICE:  All characters used in this work, as in all of my works, are used with permission from the handlers, past and present}}}


”I’m gettin’ kinda stir crazy here in Vegas, waitin’ for another shot at Goth, this time for the SCW Heavyweight Championship on the line.  I’m not gonna lie though… I can feel the pressure comin’ down on me like a ton of bricks, but I refuse to break underneath it.  This is what I was meant to do, dawg… But, I can’t help but wonder if Karma is gonna come up and bite me in the ass.  I’ve done a lot to prove myself worthy of forgiveness, but the shit I did to people over the last year still kinda seems like it outweighs the good.  I… I can’t help but feel like I’m still some big douchebag, and that’s all that anyone will ever see me as.  What else can I do?  What else can I say?  As much as I wanna sit here and say I’ve done all I could, that’s bunk.  The real question is… where do I start?”


{Country Grammar}

The sound of glasses clanking together echoes throughout this fine dining facility.  The lighting is dimmed down, giving off a very intimate feel to the elegant, yet simple restaurant.  Each table is shrouded in a white table cloth, topped with a candle, and a vase with a single red rose, as well as two empty challises, and white napkins.  We pan around the restaurant to find Giani Di Luca seated near the back in a very secluded part of the restaurant.  He seems to be fidgeting with the butter knife, nervously awaiting the arrival of a very special lady.  His eyes dart around the restaurant, landing on the entrance which is empty save for the hostess.  He sighs as he looks down to the tip of the knife as he slowly spins it around on the table cloth.  He lifts the sleeve of his white dress coat and black dress shirt just enough to check his Rolex for the time.  He nods his head, realizing he is a bit early.  His attention is drawn away as the waiter walks up to him, placing his hand on the table.

Waiter:  Would you like to start with a drink while you wait, sir?

Giani:  I’m tryin’ to be on my best behaviors here, bro… Just top me off with some nature’s nectar for now.

The waiter raises an eyebrow, unsure of what Giani is talking about.  Giani points to the nearly empty crystal challis in front of him, baring only a few ice cubes.  The waiter nods his head and then folds his hands in front of himself, heading toward the kitchen.  Giani lifts the challis to his mouth, dropping a piece of ice into it, crunching on it nervously.  He looks once more toward the entrance and his eyes light up.  He adjusts his posture, straightening out his jacket.  He catches his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall near the table, and he begins fixing his hair, making sure he looks completely presentable.  He gives himself the Giani Self Approval wink before turning his head back toward the entrance, lifting his arm in the air to get the attention of whomever it might be.



Giani is seen riding along in his glossy black Cadillac Escalade, riding through the small cityscape of run down buildings.  The roads are a bit congested as the sunlight blinds the idiotic drivers with Illinois license plates swerve in and out of lanes rather than follow a simple path.  Giani looks a bit tense as he watches the insane drivers around him, but this isn’t the only thing that has him on edge.  He is on a mission today, and unless he doesn’t survive the St. Louis traffic jam, he intends to complete it today.  In the background, the St. Louis Arch fades in the distance as he goes along, “Beautiful Pain( Featuring Sia)” by Eminem plays in the background.  Giani gently taps the steering wheel with the beat of the music as he carefully watches for his exit.

Giani:  God damn, this place looks like it’s been ravaged by zombies or somethin’.  Is this how people feel when they visit the Czech Republic?

Giani sits silently as the city thins out a bit, but the feeling that he’s severely out of place only seems to get stronger.  Giani turns onto the road, adjusting his sunglasses a bit as he comes to a stop light.  He takes a deep breath as he watches empty bags of chips and soda bottles whirl around on the ground in front of him.  Another Escalade pulls up next to Giani, the windows tinted, but a silhouette is seen nodding their heads in approval as the light changes again.

Giani:  All I know is that I better make it out of here alive.  The funny thing is that I ain’t even worried about the wannabe thugs.  It’s who I’m here to see that kinda freaks me out a little bit…

Giani turns down a one-way street, seeing the first tree in like ten miles, even if the mulch is littered with Menthol cigarette butts.  He pulls over next to the tree, shutting off his engine.  The music fades as he slowly opens his door.  He shakes his head, seeming to have second thoughts about this.  He takes a deep breath, forcing himself out of the vehicle before he has the chance to change his own mind.  He closes the door as a beat up Trans Am honks at him, the driver shouting as they speed off down the road.  Giani holds his black dress jacket closed as he pulls his black skull cap over his faux hawk.  He walks across the street, looking up at the number of the small house, almost hoping it was the wrong one.  He pauses on the walkway leading to the three concrete steps leading to the front door.  Suddenly, the door flings open and a young man with a light complexion walks to the middle step, throwing his arms out to the side.

Man:  Motha’fucka!  Don’t come up to my doorstep to sell me some Cardinal tickets.  Last time I bought those, they wasn’t even real, dawg!

Giani:  Whoa, bro… Chillax, I ain’t sellin’ nothin’, I promise.

The man seems caught off guard by this, staring at Giani to gage his seriousness.  When Giani’s expression doesn’t budge much, other than flinching from the bitter cold wind whipping at his face, the man grunts.

Man:  Then, the fuck you want?  No white boy comes up in here unless they tryin’ to sell shit to us “ignorant ghetto folk” or they tryin’ to score a lil sumpin’ sumpin, ya’sayin’?

Giani:  Nah, I’m cool on that, for real.  Look, I’m here lookin’ for a girl and…

Man:  Ahhhhh, you lookin’ for Q then.  He got some girls for ya taste.  Tell ‘em Stephen sent ya, and he might throw in a *jaw click*  for free.

Giani closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he shivers.  When he exhales, a cloud comes from out of his mouth.  He shakes his head, trying to figure out how he can say what he needs to say, but he isn’t afforded the opportunity when a flower vase flies past his head.

”Awww HELL NO!”

Giani opens his eyes as a petite young woman with purple dreadlocks cascading down her shoulders comes flying out of the front door.  Stephen looks at Giani with wide eyes and then a smile spreads over his face.

Stephen:  I always told you them pretty boys was trouble, sis…

Faith:  Stay the hell outta this, Stephen!  This asshole got the nerve to come up in MY neighborhood after that shit he pulled before?

Faith doesn’t seem bothered at all by the winter air as it hits her bare arms.  Her Rob Zombie tank top doesn’t seem appropriate, but she has no qualms dashing right at Giani, knocking him a few times in the sides.  She shoves him out into the street.  She goes to shove him once again, but Giani is prepared for this one and he doesn’t budge an inch.

Giani:  Faith.  FAITH!  Hold up just a minute and let me explain myself.

Faith:  FUCK THAT!  Get in your fancy ass car and drive on back with Pauly D and Sammi!  Seriously, Gi… I’m gonna really kick your ass if you don’t leave right now.

She swings at him once more to prove her point, but Giani grabs onto her wrist, holding it tightly.  She swings with her left fist, but he grabs onto that one as well, holding it tightly, pulling her in against him.  She squirms around angrily as she tries to break free.

Faith:  What now, bitch?  You gonna hit a girl?  Ain’t no one here to stop you now, Giani.  No one’s gonna fire you now…

Giani:  I’m fuckin’ sorry!  Okay?!  I came here to tell ya face to face that I’m sorry for that shit.  It eats away at me every god damned day, along with all the other horrible shit I done.

Faith stops squirming so badly as he brother comes out of the front door with a baseball bat in his hands.  He comes toward them, swinging it at his side, winding up to hit a home run on Giani’s face.  He lets go of Faith who straightens out her shirt, composing herself.  Before her brother can reach her side, she winds back and slaps Giani across the face so hard that spit flies from his lips.

Giani:  Damn, I forgot how hard ya can hit…  That hand print just faded from my face like a month ago… heh heh heh…

Giani hopes that his joke might lighten the mood, but it doesn’t even scratch the surface.  Faith gives her brother a glare that lets him know that things are under control.  He stops, watching the situation for a minute before lowering the bat.

Faith:  Stephen, I don’t need you fighting my battles.  I can handle a punk ass bitch like this…

Giani:  Funny, that ain’t the first time I’ve heard that in the last forty-eight hou…

Faith:  I ain’t said you could talk, homie… Stephen, could you give us a minute?

Stephen holds his free hand up in surrender, but he drops the bat just in case.  When Faith turns around, he points to his eyes, and then to Giani as he heads back up the steps and into the house.  Faith glares at Giani, looking him up and down for a moment before breaking the silence.

Faith:  I ain’t buyin’ what you’re selling, Gi.  Just cause I ain’t in SCW right now doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention to the happenings of that place.  You expect everyone to believe that you had some kind of epiphany, that you changed overnight?  You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, “bro”…

Giani:  I’m not askin’ ya to believe that I changed overnight.  Hell, I’m still changin’.  I’m a work in progress, but I know enough to know that what I did to ya was wrong.  I even came with the intention to offer ya an apology, and I did that…  Ya know what?  Do with it what ya want.  This was a bad idea…

Faith:  Which part are you sorry for?  Trying to give me the Jersey Turnpike?  Leaving me alone in the ring with two people and no partner to tag out to?  Calling me a two dollar prostitute?  Calling me ghetto trash?  Or dawgin’ my career before it even got started?

Giani:  ALL OF IT!!!  Okay?  Every last one’a those things, and then some.  It was fucked up of me to do that, and I’m sorry for all of it.  I’m sorry I ever laid a hand on ya, cause no proper gentleman should ever even think about layin’ a hand on a woman.  The fact that I ever did that has been eatin’ at me since I did it.  There’s your apology.  I’m done, I’m so done right now…

Giani turns to walk away, and Faith does nothing to stop him.  She watches through squinted eyes.  Giani reaches his car and pops the door open, almost as if he expects to be stopped.  Once he realizes that this isn’t the case, he gets inside of the car and slams the door shut behind him.  He slams the steering wheel in frustration before fumbling around in his pockets for his keys.  As soon as he pulls them out, the passengers’ side door opens and Faith steps inside, causing Giani to almost scowl.

Giani:  What?  Are ya not done makin’ me grovel?  I’m sorry I even came out here to bother you… Ya know?  I blew off a date to come here, and I know that don’t sound like a big deal, but it coulda been.

Faith:  Look, Gi… It ain’t no surprise that I can be kind of a hot head, and can you blame me for comin’ at you like that?  I could almost blame you for not having a job there anymore.  I mean, you wrecked my confidence straight out the gate, man.  What else am I supposed to think when the last thing you did to me was dry hump me before lifting me up in the air, ready to drop me on my head?

Giani says nothing, but his face shows an immense amount of pain from the vivid memory returning.  This was probably the lowest thing he has ever done in his entire life.  He nods his head as he looks over at her.  As he speaks, his voice is little more than a whisper, breaking up at first.

Giani:  I know…  If I could go back and change things, I would do it in a heartbeat.  If there is anythin’ I can do to make it up to ya, just name it.  Anythin’ at all…

Faith thinks about it for a moment.  She can’t help but feel like she’s looking at a sad puppy dog.  Her angry face seems to fade as she places a hand on his shoulder.  She shakes her head, muttering the words “damn it, Faith…” under her breath.  She takes a deep breath, sighing as she looks out through the windshield, hoping she could stop feeling empathetic.

Faith:  I really don’t know what could possibly make up for what you done to me, but… the last guy that tried to get up on it like that had to take me to dinner first…  Not that he got any further than you did, but it seems like a good place to start.




Giani takes a deep breath as he brings his hand down from the air, resting it on the table as he watches hopefully.  We turn around to see the “other” metal Bombshell of yesterday, Faith, and she has cleaned up a bit, wearing a burgundy evening gown with silver crossing down in X’s from the shoulders down to the bottom hem.  Her dark hair is pulled back, falling down over her shoulders like a fountain.  The deep, dark purples are hidden by the dim lighting of the restaurant.  She holds her handbag close to her as she slowly scans the restaurant.  The host leads her toward the back.  She seems a little nervous herself as she reaches the table.  Giani’s eyes dance from her head, down to the silver high heels adorning her neatly manicured toes.  He lets out a low-toned whistle meant only for her ears.  She gently smacks his arm with her handbag as she rests her hands on the back of the seat.  Giani quickly gets up from his seat, pulling her chair out for her.  She seems surprised by his actions, though she doesn’t say a word as he helps her scoot the chair in closer to the table.  He takes a bow, smiling as he walks back over to his seat.

Giani:  I see ya found the place alright?

Faith:  Shoot… these fools saw my beat up car and they thought I was on my way to North Broadway or something…  I told them I had a reservation, and they asked if I was a prostitute… You think they recognized me from the Climax Control where you made it sound like that’s what I really am?

Giani takes a deep sip from his glass, sighing as he tries to think of a way to change the subject as quickly as possible.  She gives him a playful wink as she unfolds the menu, slowly looking it over, though she is using it as a way to make Giani think she isn’t paying attention to the pained look on his face.

Giani:  So… I hear the Prime Rib here melts in ya mouth…  Sounds awesome, eh?

Faith raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes for him to see before returning her gaze to the menu.  She seems to find something pleasing to her taste buds, folding the menu closed in front of her.

Giani:  Okay… so, if ya not even gonna talk to me, then why did ya suggest a dinner date?

Faith:  I wanted to make this as painful as I possibly could, just to make sure you was really sorry, man…

Giani:  Well, mission accomplished…

Faith:  Ohhhh… we just gettin’ started, boo…

Faith laughs as she sticks her hand up in the air, snapping her fingers loudly as she looks around to make sure that she has the full attention of nearly every person at the surrounding tables.

Faith:  Ey yo, B!  Bring over your most expensive bottle of wine, but none of that *air quotes* classy dry shit neither!

Faith gives a few finger snaps and a head bob for emphasis before looking at Giani with the widest of grins.  He sinks down into his chair, hiding his face in the menu.  Faith soaks it all in, and as the waiter happily brings over the bottle, uncorking it, she rips it from his hands and puts the bottle to her lips.

Faith:  What?  No brown paper bag?  Aight then…

Giani:  Seriously?  Jesus, just kill me now…

Faith waves the waiter away as if he were crowding her.  She downs a good portion of the bottle before letting out a loud belch, causing a hush to fall over the restaurant, even shocking herself in the process.  She chuckles as she can almost see Giani’s cheeks glowing through the menu.  She reaches across the table to Giani’s hand, bringing it to the center, near the candle.

Faith:  Okay, okay… I’m done for now, dude.  Like I said before, I still pay attention to Sin City these days, and I wanted to get in your head.  I wanted to twist your brains up so that there was no way you could possibly win the Heavyweight belt… I don’t understand why, but I actually kinda believe that you’re sorry for what you did.

Giani:  How many times did I say that earlier tonight?  Each time I swiped my credit card for a dress, a tennis bracelet, shoes, getting’ ya hair done…  Plus the other thousand times I said it, ya had to embarrass ya’self in a fancy restaurant to believe me?  What kinda sense does that make?

Faith:  The old you would have already left.  You have no patience, and I wanted to see that Boy Scout act crumble right in front of my eyes.  I don’t know, I just… believe you, I guess.

Giani slowly lowers the menu, his eyes showing a hint of anger in them as he stares at her.  He places the menu down on the table and rubs at the bridge of his nose, sighing as he tries not to shout at her, though he is a bit relieved to hear this at the same time.

Giani:  Damn… Well, I’m glad that ya feel you tortured me enough for the night.

Faith:  Hold up, I never said that.  I just said I was done for now.

Giani:  You know what I did to be here tonight?  I drove all the way from Vegas, I cancelled a date with a girl I would be proud to have at my side, instead of just a one night stand, and I probably blew that.

Faith:  Wait, wait, wait… You cancelled a date, and yet you’re on one right now?  Some things might have changed, but you still a heartbreaker, boy…

Giani swipes his glass and takes a big drink of water, emptying the challis in a few gulps.  He seems to be at a loss for words until Faith finally let’s go of his hand.  She gives him an almost apologetic glance.

Faith:  Look, I get it.  You want to be a better person so that you can be some hopeless kid’s role model.  You want to prove that someone as big an asshole as you can turn things around and go on to accomplish something big.  You came here cause you didn’t want to hold that belt with so many things left broken.  I respect that.

Giani:  I just look around at the useless sacks of shit who have held that belt, and how little they gave back to the company, and I don’t wanna be anythin’ like them.  I wanna be the one who carries this company on my back, givin’ every ounce of myself in return for the faith they have in me.  I mean, look at the current champion…

Giani tries to keep his voice low after being shushed by a lady at the table nearby.  Faith mocks the lady, waving her off angrily before returning her focus to Giani, nodding her head as if to tell him that she’s got his back.

Giani:  Dude is praised so highly, but all he does is chase Druids.  He don’t talk to fans.  He don’t come out to the ring to just shout at the fans.  He’s a total douchebag full of empty promises, and I can’t stand seein’ that belt around his waist.

Faith:  You just mad because he’s a painted up version of what you used to be.

Giani:  No way!  At least when I was an asshole, I still came out to the ring to give the fans some hell.  Other than Drake Green, none of the recent champs could ever match my charisma or my talent.  It just pisses me off…

Lady:  Excuse me sir!  Could you PLEASE watch your language?

Faith stands up from the table, ready to dig into the thirty-something lady sitting at the table with someone old enough to be her grandfather.  Giani places his hand on top of hers and shakes his head at her.  He swipes the bottle of wine and chugs a few back, wiping his mouth before matching Faith’s earlier belch.  She tries her hardest not to laugh, covering her mouth instead.

Giani:  I’m Giani Di Luca and I can say whatever I want, where ever I want lady.  Just ignore me and pay attention to Daddy Warbucks there.

Faith:  Ooooh bitch, he done told you!

Just then, the waiter comes over to the table with the manager backing him up.  Giani rolls his eyes and then does his infamous laugh.  He tosses back a few more gulps from the bottle of wine before bracing himself for what is to come.

Waiter:  Excuse me, sir, but this establishment is for quiet, esteemed dining.  There is a Denny’s a few blocks over for your kind…

Faith:  Ohhhhhhh!  Was that supposed to be some kinda race thing?  Bitch, I will own this restaurant if…

Giani holds a hand out at her as he stands up from his chair.  He clears his throat as he gets in the waiter’s face.  The waiter takes a few steps back, bumping into the manager as he does so.

Giani:  This place is borin’ as fuck anyway, and it smells like cabbage and balls in here..

Giani slaps down a few bills on the table before taking Faith’s hand, leaving with his nose in the air, maintaining some form of dignity as he drags her along with him.  The waiter gulps, sighing in relief as he watches them distance themselves from him.  He looks at the manager and simply shakes his head in disbelief, deciding to act angry now that the nearly six and a half foot muscled man isn’t standing in front of him anymore.

Waiter:  Inbreds… The younger generation just loves showing their… backsides.

Manager:  Literally…

The waiter looks confused until the manager points near the hostess station.  Several loud gasps are heard, as well as a few chuckles as Giani lifts his dress jacket up to show off his tanned hide.  Faith’s obnoxiously loud laughter rings through the restaurant as she drags him toward the exit.  Giani nearly trips over his falling pants, laughing as he bursts through the door as we fade.


{I Got My Speakers On Wrecked!}

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{Gypsy}

The joyous sounds of celebration are heard ringing throughout the RV park in a remote desert location.  Several bonfires are seen burning in the nearly blisteringly cold temperatures, the smoke rising up in large tufts.  The live music being played is mostly heard as some type of light percussion drum along with a tambourine, with various others mixed in, but they pale in comparison to the laughter and cheering of the group.  As we come in closer, we see copious amounts of gambling and alcohol consumption, giving us an idea of where we are exactly.  Off to the side, we see a table set up with a woman sitting at it, holding a palm and shouting in Romanian as if having some sort of unknown revelation.  Turning just slightly, we see a small stand where a young girl is bartering a variety of charms and possibly “hot” jewelry, and she has no shame in admitting it to anyone brave enough to inquire.  Once we pass her table, the smell of Kraken fills your nostrils, almost strong enough to get you intoxicated alone.

Standing just outside of the camp ground, Giani watches on, enjoying the sort of charge radiating from this mobile party.  He takes a deep breath, moving his foot around in the sand as he contemplates whether or not this is the wisest of ideas.  He throws caution into the wind once again and makes the trek across the sparkling sand that stands between him and redemption.  He holds his black jacket tightly around his midsection as he reaches the first of the RV’s.  He finds two children playing an innocent game of… Craps?  He raises an eyebrow and then passes them by.  He rounds a corner just in time to find a bat within a centimeter of his face.  He pauses, throwing his arms up in the air in immediate surrender.

Karina: Stat-vă afacerea, imbecile… ((State your business, asshole…))

He stares right at the much smaller, yet twice as intimidating woman in a purple hooded jacket, her black Mohawk peeking out from under the hood.  She doesn’t seem the least bit amused as she lets the cigarette drop from her lip, putting it out with her heel without a second’s hesitation.

Giani:  Whoa there… I, uh… I just came for the party.

Karina lowers her bat, cackling like a crazy person, holding her hand out in the direction of the party action.  Giani sighs in relief, taking one step forward before Karina cracks the bat against his shin so loudly that he howls out in pain.  She smiles proudly as she admires her handiwork.  Giani stumbles a bit, trying to regain his balance.

Karina:  I need to work on my aim… I was trying to hit you in the jewels.

Karina cracks the bat around behind her, winding up for another shot when Giani shouts out a strange assortment of vowels in an attempt to beg her not to.  She steps closer to him as he scurries backward, bumping into the smallest Koji, the youngest brother, Nicu.  He turns around, seeming relieved.

Nicu:  Allow me to pass along the same message I gave to Spike when I talked to him two days ago…  You’re not welcome here.  Now leave before I let my dearest sister have some fun at your expense.

Giani:  I must have a sign on my forehead that says “>>Plant a bat here<<”.

Nicu:  You do seem to have a death wish, yes?  Anybody who knows of Karina is wise to run away immediately when advised…

Giani pulls an NXT armband out of his pocket, waving it around as if it were garlic to a vampire.  Nicu stares at it for a moment before batting it away to the ground as if he isn’t phased by it.

Giani:  Once NXT, always NXT…

Nicu:  Once Koji, always Koji… Blood is blood, and no member of this family will tolerate your presence.  I am being kind enough to warn you before…

Aleksei:  Oh my goodness!  It’s the biggest douche canoe I have ever met!  Giani…

Giani turns around to see the tall, yet slender Aleksei Koji standing there in his infamous patchwork jacket.  He seems very amused, but it is hard to tell if it is from the Kraken, or from this unexpected encounter with a former friend.

Aleksei:  The irony is almost too much, isn’t it?  It’s like we are back in the beginning, except now I know what a sack of horse shit you really are, man.  It’s like one of Nicu’s premonitions.

Nicu seems displeased by this, shaking his head as he and Karina slowly walk off together.  Aleksei laughs as he brings the bottle of rum to his lips, taking in a few sips before starting to pass the bottle to Giani out of instinct.  He quickly rips it back, simply staring at Giani, toying with him.

Giani:  Look, I know how this works… I come to apologize to ya for all the awful shit I done to ya, and then you’re gonna toy with me for a while before…

Aleksei:  I see you have been doing this regularly.  The thing is that I don’t plan on wasting your time playing games.  Jamie told me that you had some sort of realization and now you are suddenly sorry for breaking the bonds of “bro-hood”.  He seems to believe you, but I’m a little harder to convince.  My brain isn’t the size of a pea.

Giani:  Actually, he seemed kinda… I don’t know, wise when I last saw him.

Aleksei:  Fucking weird, right?!  I just thought I was shitfaced enough to where he was making sense!  But the point is that I don’t believe you.

Giani nods his head, rubbing his hands together to gain warmth.  He slowly looks up in to Aleksei’s eyes, almost as if waiting for some sort of sign that this is a joke.  When he sees the stern look on Aleksei’s face, he sighs.

Giani:  For what it’s worth, bro…

Aleksei:  You lost the right to call me that when you planted a chair against my head *air quotes* “dawg”…

Giani grunts in a mixture of frustration and the temperature getting to him.  He leans against the RV to his left, showing his most sincere expression to Aleksei as he can possibly give.

Giani:  Even if ya not gonna forgive me for what I done in the past, the least you could do for me is hear me out.  Allow me to explain myself before you dismiss me, aight?

Aleksei folds his arms across his bare chest, allowing the large sleeves of his patchwork jacket to dangle down, protecting him from the gusts of wind blowing, but also to make him look that much more like a badass in the process.

Aleksei:  I’m in no way indebted to you, Giani.  That’s not part of how this works.  You don’t get to track me down and force me to listen to your half-hearted apologies and your lame excuses.  Had this happened six or more months ago, I might find it in my heart to listen to you.  Now, I’m tempted to call all five of my brothers over, and even worse, Karina…

Giani:  Look, that won’t be necessary.  Just know that I am sorry for all the shit that went down between us, from the second I turned my back on ya all the way through the Team Wars, and even for waitin’ so long to apologize for all of it. If ya don’t wanna hear any more of it, I respect that.  I’ll just… um, gonna go now.

Giani nods his head with what appears to be a warm and genuine half smile mixed with regret.  He turns around sighing as he hears the RV start rocking with the sound of a woman moaning inside.  Normally, he would pause and make a smartass comment, but instead, he starts walking back across the barren desert, back to his car on the deserted highway.

Aleksei:  Giani?

Giani pauses in his tracks as he hears the tone of regret in his former friend’s voice.  He slowly turns around to see Aleksei walking toward him.  He looks relieved and a smile appears upon his face.  Aleksei takes one last drink from his bottle of Kraken before reaching Giani.

Giani:  I really appreciate the opportunity to…

*CRACK!*

*Blackness*



”Nobody ever said that this was gonna be easy, but damn… Was that really necessary?  A bottle to the side of my freakin’ head?!  I must be bat shit crazy to track down the people I’ve hurt the most, just so that they can knock me around.  Let’s recount this, shall we?

1)  I called Spike Staggs out to the ring so that he could apologize for what I done to him and the New X-Tremes, and I offered him the chance to kick me in the jewels.  I thought the man who was practically a Saint would have mercy on me, but that’s what I get for thinkin’, right?  In all honesty, I gotta take the blame for this one, cause I did offer…

2)  I track Misty down to apologize.  Alright, this one wasn’t too bad.  If anyone could understand what I’m goin’ through, it’s gotta be the former Queen of the Damned gone Girl Scout, right?  After all, she was the one who gave me the idea to try to make amends for everythin’ I done.  And, as expected, it actually went well.  She yelled at me, but she didn’t hit me with a bus or nothin’, so this one was more ideal.  But, deep inside, it hurt.  This was someone I actually had feelin’s for.  I had to congratulate her on her new boyfriend, and on the inside, I wanted to grab and kiss her.  But time heals all wounds, and I’m over it.

3)  Faith… She beat the shit outta me to the point I had to edit some of it out.  Somethin’ about my nads says “Please kick me!”  My wallet felt it too.  Did I deserve it?  I mean, I did ruin her career right from the start.  I would say I deserved all that and more.

4)  Aleksei.  Kraken bottle to the side of my head.  Knocked out cold.  Awww shit, that’s now!  What’s the crazy drunk and his even crazier family gonna do to me now?  Am I gonna wake up in a tub of ice without a second kidney?  Or worse, am I gonna have balls?  You people love harmin’ them so much, I wouldn’t be surprised, but please God, not the balls…

My point is, I deserve it.  It don’t matter to anyone that I’m really tryin’ to change.  They don’t care that I been huntin’ down all these people to apologize to, cause I haven’t been to see them yet. C’mon, people.  Ya keep tellin’ me how much of an asshole I am, so ya gotta know that I don’t even know where to start.  It ain’t like I got some sorta Karma List.  I’m not Jason Lee.  But I’m willin’ to accept the price it takes to pay for all the shit I done, cause I know that I will make a great SCW Heavyweight Champion.  If these people don’t kill me before December 2 Dismember, I’m not gonna quit until I walk out as the champion.  Truth…”



"Damn that hurts!  Gah…”

Giani clinches his eyes shut as the pain radiates from the left side of his face, right into his brain.  He takes in a deep breath, opening his eyes only for a millisecond, and everything is a blur of colors.  He hears the deep bass drum beating to the rhythm of his throbbing headache, accompanied by a light rhythm guitar and violin mixed in there, the bow screeching along with the beat of the music.  The tambourine seems haunting to Giani as he tries to force his eyes open again, with absolutely no improvement from his first attempt.

”What, did Aleksei knock me into the Velvet Underground dimension or somethin’?”

Giani hears the clapping accompanying the music as the warmth of the fire gently massages his face from afar.  The smell of hickory smoke fills his nostrils as he strains to break out of this haze.  He looks around, trying to make sense of his surroundings, catching glimpses of what seems like sparkling glitter in a variety of waving random colors.  As he focuses more, he sees women dancing around the fire, saving scarves as they twirl around to the music.  He wipes at the side of his face, feeling a couple pieces of glass come out in the palm of his hand.  He winces, drawing in breath through his teeth.

Nicu:  Careful, Giani.  The glass is in there deep.

Giani surrenders, realizing that nothing else has been done to him… yet!  He quickly looks around, seeing the musicians sitting around the fire as well.  A young woman gently plays the violin as the other men covered in scruffy hair and jewelry sit on the ground with their instruments on their laps.  The young woman approaches Giani, giving a single swipe with the violin to let off another screeching sound that causes Giani to hold onto his forehead, groaning.  He looks over to see Nicu sitting there with a pair of surgical tweezers and gauze.  He seems confused, but opts not to question it any.  He notices that all seems to be safe for him, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

Nicu:  I told you it would be best to leave.  What ever will you do now with your imperfect complexion?

Giani:  After December 2 Dismember, I was bound to have some imperfections anyway.  I guess I’m the “Reflection of Perfection” if perfection looks into a broken mirror, huh?

Nicu affords Giani a light chuckle as he pulls out another piece of glass.  He admires his handiwork before pulling out a small vile.  He places it on the gauze and then presses it against Giani’s face.  Giani winces once again as he looks over to Aleksei coming in his direction with three longneck bottles in his hands.  Nicu stretches the tape over the gauze, keeping it firmly in place before nodding his head at Giani.

Nicu:  Right… change this gauze in two hours, and make sure to add this to it.

Nicu tosses the vile toward Giani’s hands, but he seems to miss it as it falls on the ground in front of him.  Giani leans down to pick it up as Aleksei reaches them.  Aleksei shakes his head in the negative as Nicu seems to silently argue.  Aleksei gets a stern look on his face, and Nicu sighs before getting up from his knees and walks off.  Aleksei hands Giani one of the beers which Giani graciously accepts.  He pops the top and guzzles half of it down at once, shaking his head afterward.  Aleksei pulls a chair up in front of Giani, who seems to be in a bit of a haze still.

Aleksei:  Consider yourself lucky.  I wanted to tie you up like a pig and roast you alive over the fire, but I decided that it wasn’t fair to you.

Giani chuckles a bit as he looks to see that Aleksei is not laughing.  He widens his eyes, sighing in relief at the change of heart as he relaxes a bit.

Aleksei:  I might not owe it to you to hear your explanation, but I admit to being curious to hear it.  So, humor me, douche canoe…

Giani takes a small sip from the bottle before setting it down, nestling it in the sand.  He pulls a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket, lighting it and taking in a deep puff. He holds it in for a moment before slowly exhaling.

Giani:  That’s generous.  I don’t know how to thank you and ya brother for the awesome stitch job that’s gonna make me look like a badass goin’ into my match.

Aleksei:  You know, I am not much for the small talk.  Besides, you’ve got me very excited to hear what you have to say.  Also, time is ticking…

Giani takes another long drag from his cigarette, using it to slightly ease the pains in his head.  He taps the butt end of it, allowing the wind to take the ashes with it.

Giani:  Well… damn, I don’t know where to begin.  I kinda had it memorized until ya scrambled my brains there…  But, I had a really hard time acceptin’ the fact that I was constantly thrown to the back of the line.  I was never booked, and I left BACW cause I wanted to be a big name, not some bodyguard who never got the same respect in return.  When I was gettin’ attacked by someone like Nick Jones, where the fuck were you guys?

Aleksei:  That’s a very weak apology, kid.  Not once did I hear the words “I’m” or “sorry” in there.

Giani:  Yeah?  Well, the truth is that I never heard those words neither.  All I heard was some empty promises from people who called me their friend, and the sound of medical tape from the nurses after gettin’ gang raped in the name of “team unity”.

Aleksei chuckles out loud as he pops the top off of his beer, sipping on it.  Before he has a chance to retort, Giani immediately cuts him off, taking advantage of his opportunity to finally be heard.

Giani:  You went off and got the Roulette Championship, Spike had the Heavyweight Championship, and there was no direction for me to go.  I was against joinin’ NXT to begin with, but I did it out of respect for the friendship you, me, and Jamie shared.  Ya can’t tell me that I’m full of shit, cause ya know for a fact that I did.

Aleksei slowly nods his head, acknowledging some truth to what Giani has to say.  This eases Giani slightly as he leans back in his chair.  Giani picks his bottle up and takes another sip before placing back in his sandy cup cozy.

Giani:Then, I believed Spike’s promises enough not to split sooner.  Not to sound like a bitch, but I honestly got my feelin’s hurt more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.  But, nobody ever saw that.  The only thing they saw was me givin’ the biggest F-U to Spike in the middle of the ring, and then I was the asshole.  I heard it so many times that I started to believe it, and I started doin’ more and more fucked up shit.

Giani pauses as if to allow Aleksei the opportunity to speak, but Aleksei seems sort of blown away by Giani’s confession.  He just rocks a bit in his chair, taking another long sip from his beer.

Giani:  That’s the raw, honest truth.  But, despite all of that, I realized that it was my choice to turn on you guys.  I know it sounds like a real stretch for the victims here, but none of us is innocent… but the difference is that I’m sorry for what I did to you guys.  I feel like shit cause I know I’m better than all that.  So, there’s your apology…

Aleksei awkwardly throws his empty bottle into the air, allowing it to crash against the top of his personal RV, shards scattering in random directions.  Giani doesn’t seem as if he even notices as he continues his speech.

Giani:  And ya know what, I don’t expect one back, cause I know that you don’t feel the same way.  I know that ya feel like the protagonist in all of this, and I’m just ya evil nemesis who is wicked just for the sake of bein’ that way.

Giani looks into Aleksei’s emerald eyes, watching the fire dance within them.  Aleksei nods his head in agreement before popping the cap off of his second beer, taking a long sip from it as he remains silent.

Giani:  Now, the screwed up thing is that just bein’ able to apologize to ya, face to face… that’s good enough for me.  Sharin’ a beer in the middle of a California desert in December with ya not chasin’ me around, trying to chop of my head?  It’s good enough for me.  And if we never talk again after tonight, it’s cool, cause you gotta live with the guilt, not me.  Not anymore…

Aleksei:  Damn, brother… That was some seriously heavy shit right there.  It was kind of a mind fuck if I’m being honest, kind of like watching Jamie try to use big words from that vocabulary calendar we got him for his birthday that year.  I never thought of it that way.  I guess we should call it even?

Giani smiles, extending his hand out toward Aleksei.  Aleksei stares at it for a moment before accepting the peace offering.  He gives a firm shake, bringing Giani in for a “bro hug” giving him a few hard pats on the back.  He sits back in his chair as the music suddenly stops.  He looks a bit suspicious, especially when he sees Karina emerge from another RV, twirling her bat in the process.  Giani looks over to the side, seeing Nicu emerge with a jeweled leather flogging stick.  Giani seems a bit confused until he looks at Aleksei who is cracking his knuckles with a smile.

Giani:  Whoooooaaaa there, bro… I… I thought ya said we was cool?

Aleksei:  Oh, we are, but there are only three reasons the Koji Clan get together.  Nobody died, and unless you are planning on making an honest woman out of Karina…

Giani:  Oh hell no!  Er, no offense…

Aleksei:we’re going to have to kick your ass.  I can’t disappoint like that.  You understand, don’t you?

Giani quickly jumps out of his chair.  He looks around, grabbing his bottle of beer.  He empties it into his mouth before cracking it against the side of Aleksei’s RV.  Aleksei almost seems excited as if it were some sort of game.  Giani’s eyes wander around as brothers, cousins, uncles, and the like come out with various weapons in their possession.  Giani gulps as he wields the bottle out in front of him, unable to muster up a single word.  Immediately, he darts off around the back of the RV, barely ducking a club attempt to his face.

Giani:  Oh shit!

Giani rolls across the sand, and the older grayed Koji wielding the club goes for another strike, which Giani is barely able to avoid.  Giani gets up to his feet and he dashes off across the terrain as what seems to be the complete line of living Koji’s are in hot pursuit of him.  Like a track star, Giani leaps over a small bank of sand as he keeps going, gripping on tightly to the broken bottle as he goes.  He reaches his Escalade, fumbling around with his keys before the lights come on, and he throws the door open.  He gets inside, starting it up quickly as he speeds off, Aleksei nearly reaching his vehicle before it disappears in a cloud of dust.


{I Got My Speakers On Wrecked!}


{Burning Down the House}

”Brutality…  Bloodshed…  Animosity…  We’re gonna paint these walls red.”

Giani stands at the top of the incomplete ramp from the set of December 2 Dismember, the camera just over his shoulder.  He looks down where the ring sits in the middle of an otherwise empty space, but it is almost as if he doesn’t even see the ring.  He slowly imagines the space being filled with chairs and a barricade.  His eyes slowly scan the place again, filling the seats with fans, all cheering as “Wrecked” by Killbot plays in the back of his mind.  He looks over to see Jason Adams and Belinda Simone at the table, likely preparing the viewers for what is slated to be the most action packed match of the night, which says a lot given the card.  Giani takes a deep breath as he starts to walk down to the ring where Justin Decent appears.

Justin Decent:  Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now time for the Main Event, and it is for the SIN CITY WRESTLING HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!

Giani pauses for a moment, not sure that he is quite ready for this.  He looks around to the fans once more as they cheer him on in support.  We pan around to look at his face as it is covered in sweat.  He isn’t even in his wrestling attire, but his white hooded “Italian Stallion” jacket with an NXT muscle tee underneath, and a pair of dark skinny jeans with white sneakers popping out.  He almost seems to realize that he isn’t anywhere near ready for this, turning to walk back up the aisle in a fit of embarrassment.

Justin Decent:  Making his way back to the back, because he is obviously not worthy of such a big honor… Hailing from Seaside Heights, New Jersey, weighing in at 285 pounds, standing at 6 feet 5 inches, he is….

Giani shakes his head in defiance.  He turns back around to face Justin Decent, shouting down at him, though his voice doesn’t seem to be working properly.  It just comes out as the sound of an infant crying.  His cheeks turn red in embarrassment and frustration as the fans begin laughing at him.

Justin Decent:  Awww, look at the baby!  Do you need your bah-bah?

The fans crack up loudly as Giani dashes down the ramp, sliding underneath the bottom ropes in determination.  He gets in Justin’s face before he realizes that he’s shrinking.  He looks around as everyone seems to be mongoloid giants in comparison.  “Dark Side” begins blaring, but it barely overcomes the laughter of everyone.  Giani pants as he looks up to see a painted freak standing above him, barely even resembling his opponent for the next show, other than the scheme of the paint and the hair.  Giani slowly slides back against the turnbuckle, shaking with fear, but exuding an obvious defiance as well.

Giani:  *Wah-wah-wah*

Everyone laughs at him as he tries to stand up to them.  He scowls as he turns around to show it off to everyone around him.  Just then, he feels a hand gently resting on his shoulder.  He turns around, breaking free from it as he prepares himself for a fight.  However, he sees Ms. Rocky Mountains standing behind him and he quickly eases his posture, taking a deep breath.  Ms. Mountains looks a bit concerned for Giani as he wipes the sweat away from his forehead and upper lip on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to conceal it.

MRM:  Are you doing alright, Mr. Di Luca?

Giani takes in a few deep breaths, nodding his head as he attempts to recompose himself for his scheduled interview.  He puffs his chest out in a show of confidence as he does his best to prove that he is more than ready for his impending match.

Giani:  Huh?  Me?  Of course I’m doin’ alright Ms. Rock-ay Mountains!  Better than alright.

MRM:  I don’t mean to overstep before we even start officially rolling, but what happened to your face?

She points to the left side of his face where the stitches are in obvious contrast to his otherwise flawless skin on his face.  He runs his fingers lightly over it as if to confirm that this is what she’s talking about.

Giani:  What?  This little boo-boo?  Ah, it’s nothin’.  Let’s just say, I got gyped…

MRM:  That’s classic, it’s like you have a writer or something… I’ve heard the training sessions with Spike Staggs aren’t easy, but does it really get bad enough that one might end up with stitches?

Giani:  Nah, for the last week, I been playin’ My Name Is Earl, minus the funny chubby brother.  Damn, I shoulda brought Jamie with me...  But that’s not important here.  The point is that I been doin’ everythin’ I can to prepare for this match.  I been facin’ down my deepest, darkest demons, and sometimes ya come out with battle scars.

Giani pauses to point directly at the sound with authority as Rocky purses her lips, nodding her head, a bit confused but she isn’t about to argue it.

Giani:  This right here?  This is a testament to everythin’ I been sayin’ over the last month.  This right here proves that I’m a changed man.  I accepted this with honor, and hell, even a little bit of pride.  This right here is the sign that I’m ready for this match.

MRM:  That actually brings me to my first official question, Giani… As someone who has never before been anywhere near the Heavyweight Title picture, how are you dealing with the pressures of being the Number One Contender?

Giani looks at MRM, knowing that she saw his little anxiety attack just moments ago.  Normally, the “confident” star would bullshit his way through such a question, refusing to show any sign of intimidation, but his mask seems to fall off as he seems a bit overwhelmed by the question.

Giani:  Well… I can’t say that I’m completely confident that I’m gonna walk out as the champion.  It’s my first try, and you’re right… I never been anywhere near the title picture before, save for my pretty freakin’ impressive participation in the Number One Contenders Battle Royal back in May as second runner up.

Giani seems to break out of his momentary sullen state as he looks up from the ground, and right at Rocky.  He stares silently for a few seconds, but it feels more like several minutes.

Giani:  Truth be told, it ain’t even my opponent.  Sure, Goth did beat me one time.  He loves bringin’ it up, and I’m sure it will be the basis for his entire promo.  But I’m sure everyone in the real world will realize that I have three other victories over him, two tag, and our only other singles encounter.  I embarrassed the kid in that match.  But, if he wants to cling to the delusion that he caught me off guard one time cause of an extra shitty partner like it’s gonna help him in this match, then that’s his mistake.  I’m in Boss Mode right now, Rocky.

Giani’s “confident”/arrogant demeanor seems to resurface as he spills his animosity toward Goth for the cameras to see.  He puffs out his chest and tightens his stance as he looks directly into the camera to show off the look for a moment before turning back to Rocky.

Giani:  But, like I said, I ain’t even worried about Goth.  He’s nothin’ but a placeholder champion.  The fact that I beat him three times in recent history proves that I will have no trouble dealin’ with him.  He won the Heavyweight Title from someone who lied and cheated his way to the top in Kevin Carter, and honestly it’s beyond me how he was able to defeat Drake Green, but so have I.  Both wins are tainted, and they are in the darkest and weakest points that the title has seen since J.T. Underwood held the belt.  Soon as I win this belt, it’s gonna soar back to the front and center like it was always supposed to be.

MRM:  Those are some strong opinions on the state of the SCW Heavyweight belt, coming from someone who hasn’t even touched the belt.  Why do you think you stand any chance of improving the belt, even if you are lucky enough to win it?

Giani rolls his eyes at the buxom reporter, trying his best to be respectful to her despite her obvious goading.  He takes in a deep breath, looking as if he is trying to slowly count as he exhales.

Giani:  It’s simple, baby… I’m Giani Di Luca.  I was designed to be at the top.  I’m the “Reflection of Perfection”.  I’m a born leader.  Even before I was in this business, I was the lead on Fuhgeddaboudit.  I left, the show crumbled.  I played the rookie long enough, and then I led James to the Tag belts, and we held the damn things for a pretty long time, rivaled only by Sinful Obsession.  Then, I led myself right through three of the toughest competitors that this company has to offer, and now I’m the Number One Contender.

MRM:  If you are a born leader, then why are you in the New X-Tremes instead of leading your own group to the top?

Giani: Hahaha… Did ya just ask me that?  Seriously?  Spike is our mentor, that’s obvious.  But the leader…?  He is the authority, but I’m the reason people are payin’ attention to NXT.  I know it sounds cocky, but the fact is that, when I win this belt, all eyes will be on NXT.  Spike even said so.  It will only be a matter of time before I’m leadin’ them all to success with Spike’s aid.

Rocky takes time to roll her eyes after turning her head away from Giani.  She blows in a manner that might as well say “Oh brother…”

MRM:  Confident… But, the world wants to know a straight answer.  How are you going to improve the state of Sin City Wrestling just by winning a belt, and how are you going to deal with the pressures of being the top champion?

Giani:  Well, ya kinda just answered that last question with the first one.  Sin City needs someone confident enough with their own damn self to make the title worth competin’ over.  When ya got someone like Goth who can’t be bothered to see anythin’ past his own nose, who doesn’t have the time to play off the fans, the bread and butter of this business… the fans ain’t gonna pay attention.  Whether it’s good or bad attention, the fans are either gonna love to love ya, or they’re gonna love to hate ya, but one way or another, they’re gonna love the attention.  When they don’t have yours, then you ain’t gonna have theirs.

Giani looks as if he is spelling out a diagram for Rocky as he talks with his hands.  He points out to the empty “audience” as if it were packed full of people, and then points down to the ring below them.  Once he finishes his point, he folds his arms across his chest.

MRM:  Don’t get me wrong, that makes a lot of sense, but it doesn’t answer how you will deal with the pressures of being the top champion of this company, if you are lucky enough to make Goth say “I Quit”.

Giani:  First off, I won’t need luck.  The odds are stacked in my favor as is, because I’m no stranger to hardcore matches since that’s the lifeblood of the company I started wrestlin’ in.  And not to mention what I keep sayin’ over and over again, cause no one seems to be able to get it through their freakin’ skulls…

Giani turns to face the camera with a very serious expression upon his face.  He takes in a deep breath through his nostrils, flaring them out as he pauses for just a second to add emphasis to what he’s about to say.

Giani:  I beat the kid three outta four times we met in the last year.  So, it ain’t even a question of whether I will win this match, cause I will.  Now, to answer ya other question, I’m gonna need the support of the fans.  With them behind me, I know I can be the champion this company needs.  They was the first ones to accept my apology, and they been behind me the longest.  That’s what’s gonna make all the pressures worth it.

Rocky nods her head, seeming rather impressed by what Giani is saying.  She even offers him a genuine smile before bringing the microphone back to her lips.

MRM:  That’s very heartfelt, Giani.  It definitely does seem like the fans have regained their liking for you over the last few weeks, almost as if the last year hasn’t even happened.  Is there anything you would like to say to the fans specifically?

Giani:  Thanks for puttin’ ya faith back in me.  I will not disappoint this Sunday.  I’m gonna give ya somethin’ to really cheer about when I give ya a champion that ya can actually be proud of.

MRM:  And while we are on the subject of sending out messages, what do you have to say to Goth in regards to his silence since the last Climax Control?

Giani smirks an almost wicked looking smirk as he stares at the camera silently.  He offers a faint chuckle as he looks over to Rocky.  Giani wipes at his mouth as if trying to hide or remove his smile, but it doesn’t seem to work as he returns his gaze to the camera.

Giani:  I’m not gonna lie… Last week I put it out there pretty thick that I was ashamed of how he carries this company as our champion.  I all but called him a pussy ass bitch straight out.  I wanted him to respond to what I had to say, to prove me wrong.  I wanted to hear what he had to say, cause he’s the most quiet Heavyweight Champion SCW has ever had.  But nothin’?  Seriously bro?

Giani rolls his eyes, as he thinks it over for a moment, doubling as a dramatic pause.  He lowers his eyes for the moment, but quickly raises them back up, his amused look completely gone from his face.

Giani:  Is that how ya deal with ya problems?  Ya just ignore them?  That’s weak, dawg… Or maybe ya just don’t think I’m worth ya time?  Yeah, keep thinkin’ that, cause that’s gonna be ya biggest mistake ever.  That’s what’s gonna give me the upper hand when we meet inside of that ring on Sunday.  But… the thing is that I don’t want an easy victory.  I wanna earn it.  I want an all out brawl.  I wanna paint the walls, the floors, and the mat with our blood.  I wanna leave it all out there, dawg…  Win or lose, I’m ready to give it my all, and ya better hurry up and get in the same frame of mind, or I might have to let my sadistic side out and make ya take me seriously!


{{{OOC NOTE: TBC... RP cut off here}}}

[Giani Di Luca]

 {{{OOC NOTE: RP Cont'd, previous post cut off}}}


Giani shouts the last part of his statement, sweat trickling down his forehead as he gets more and more intense with his message.  It almost looks as if Giani is going into a rage over his message.  He tries to calm himself down, but it doesn’t work one bit.

Giani:  I’m done sittin’ in the background!  This match is gonna be the thing that makes people take me seriously, damn it!  I ain’t just a push over no more, bro!  Just cause I am makin’ amends for all the bad things I done, that don’t mean that I suddenly return to that naïve kid from Jersey who only cares about partyin’ and backin’ up his friends in their fights.  If ya think I returned to that mindset, then ya in for the rudest awakenin’ of ya life!  I’m more focused… more determined than ever!  I might not have said it before, Goth, but I’m sayin’ it now.  Ya nothin’ but a coward.  You’re past the point of bein’ self-absorbed.  Ya a self-righteous, scared, pussy ass bitch!

Giani pulls his shoulders back as he lunges forward in a move of intimidation.  Rocky backs up slightly, keeping the microphone in front of Giani’s mouth as the heavy breaths are beard blaring through the microphone.  The sweat has begun to drip off of his face as his voice strains.  Giani might have actually snapped as he begins shaking with anger.  His eyes are as wide as saucers, and he forces everyone to pay attention to this for well over a minute before he starts to calm down.  Rocky watches the rage eclipse from his face, and then she brings the microphone back to her lips, meekly proceeding.

MRM:  That… that was pretty, um… intense.  I don’t think anyone feels that you aren’t ready for this opportunity.  Word around the office is that you should have been in contention for this belt a long time ago and…

Giani:  I wasn’t ready then.  I told everyone that I would have that belt when I was ready.  I didn’t care who held the belt, whether it be Goth, Simon Jones, Nick Jones, Drake Green, Jordan Williams, Spike Staggs, or God himself.  As ya can tell, I’m ready, so I will stop at nothin’ until I have that belt.  Unlike our current champion, I’m ready to carry this company on my shoulders.  I’m ready to end Goth’s reign of boredom and avoidance.  I will take on any challenge that sits in front of me, head on.  And ya better believe that I won’t sit silently by as someone calls me out.  I won’t chase Druids around the locker rooms instead of addressin’ the fans.  I will be ya poster boy, the one that ya can be proud of…

Giani slowly calms himself down as he goes on, but he still maintains a very poignant stance, driving his point across.  Rocky nods her head as he goes, feeling the words that he is saying.  She brings the microphone to her lips.

MRM:  This is a very pleasant change from the usual “I’m going to kick your ass because I’m better than you” interview I typically conduct.  While that was a big side note, I think everyone respects the fact that you are so invested in giving yourself fully to this match, to the fans, and to this company as a whole…  Do you have any last words for your opponent?

Giani nods his head at Rocky as he slowly turns back to the camera.  The determination burns like an out of control fire in his eyes, yet his face is solid and emotionless as stone.  He takes in a slow breath through his nostrils before he begins speaking.

Giani:  Talk all the shit ya want, Goth, or stay silent like the bitch that you are… but there is no way in HELL that I’m gonna ever utter the words “I Quit” to ya.  Come Sunday, I’m gonna make ya squeal like a pig.  I’m gonna make ya announce to the world that ya give up to my greatness!  Bring it on, punk.  Bring whatever ya got, and I’ll do the same… See ya on Sunday, dawg…

Giani points both of his index fingers at the camera, holding his thumbs up as if aiming at Goth directly.  He closes one eye as he watches for a moment before he clicks his jaw and lowers his thumbs.  He throws his hood up over his head before walking over to the ropes.  He climbs under the top and looks back toward the top of the ramp.  As he looks up, he imagines the fans are going crazy with cheers as Giani pats his shoulder, where the SCW Heavyweight Championship is resting comfortably.  “Wrecked” by Killbot echoes through his mind as he slowly walks up the ramp, on his way toward what will be the backstage area, disappearing behind the curtains.


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


{fin}

[Goth]

 again sorry for last week

(prologue)

I wanted this, why?? To prove to the World I still got it?? Or is it the mere reason that I want to prove a young punk ass kid like Gianni that I am a main event player??? Reasons that nobody cares about these days, it is nothing more than a fact in life that when you want something, you need to take control in life and do what you have to do to survive. And that is what I intend to do.

A few years ago a man once told me that I would be destined to sit behind a desk and run an office job. I tried, I really did. But the feeling kept bugging me that I needed to get my hands dirty, feel the blood on my fingers and taste my own sweat mixed with blood and smell the defeat of others. Oh how I longed to once again make a name out of myself outside a realm that I was not used to. A realm of unknown fighters, those who have a thirst for glory so high as they have not succeeded anything in life.

I wanted to match their hunger, their thirst for glory and recognition. Something I already have, so why would you even bother some would say…. I guess they never learned to be a Jackal, ready to strike at any given moment to make it through the night without dying. I had to go back to the days where I was a nobody, to understand how your mind works when you have that first taste of something unfamiliar and yet so demanding. And now? Now it has all returned to me once more…. Its time for me to hunt for blood…..

Monday:

A day of like any other….

New York City, New York.

The shot opens up in the most famous city in America, the city that breathes sports, that breathes cabaret, that breathes talk shows… it has got it all and most importantly, it houses the SCW heavyweight champion… Goth. The man can be seen taking off the tape off his ribs as his long week rest has given him some time to heal.

Are you ok hun???

A voice can be heard from the entrance of the bedroom where he can be seen sitting in front of a mirror. A small grin emerges on his face as he sees his woman wearing her most seductive nightie.

‘Yes dear, they are still sore. But at least they have gotten some time to recover from the gruelling weeks that I have gone through. Thanks to our bosses I may add’

His look turns to anger as he utters the word bosses, clearly he has not been the best of pals with Christian Underwood and Mark Ward. But unlike what people were to be expected from him, he did not surrender the gold or lose a match.

So you are going through with this??

‘It would be a bit weird if I made the stipulation of this match and then back out of it huh? I thought after spending so much time with me, that you would be knowing me a little bit better by now.’

She sighs as she walks over towards him, clearly concerned over his well being. She puts her arms around him and presses her tender body against his back, he stops for a moment and enjoys the feeling of her soft body. She softly kisses his shoulders as he drops his head backwards.

‘That feels so good’

She grins, knowing that there isn’t a spot on him that she does not know and how it would react to whatever stimulation. She runs her hands gently over his ribs to his chest, causing a soft gasp escape his lips.

Sorry hun, I…,

He cuts her off by shaking his head no, running his hand over to her face and pulls her closer to his lips. They softly kiss as she is reassured that everything is alright. He caresses her as she enjoys his soft touch. He explores her body as only he can. He then slowly turns towards the camera and pushes it aside as the shot slowly fades to a commercial break.

We come back after the break with Goth training with his former tag team partner in the GWA Fang. Fang puts Goth in a Boston Crab submission hold, as Goth is trying to escape the grip of his long time friend but also rival at one time.

F) Want a break?? We have been going on for several hours you know.

Goth grins as he puts his hands on the mat and tries to bridge upwards, giving him enough leg strength to push his tag team partner off of him.

‘Sure thing, why not… old man’

The two grin as they walk over towards the table with some refreshments. Jonathan ‘Fang’ Porter throws a towel towards Goth as he sits down with a bottle of water

F) So whats the deal with you and wrestling again?? I mean seriously, you look great and all and a world champ for the second time. But shouldn’t you just let others try to even come close to what you have achieved in wrestling?? You don’t want to be remembered being the George Forman of wrestling you know?? Grandpa that still cannot get enough??

Goth chuckles at the comment that was made by Fang as he takes the towel and wipes off the sweat from his face, before lowering it to his chest area.

‘For someone who I have faced a thousand times and at one time broke my leg. You sure know how to put a smile upon someone’s face don’t ya?’

‘But to answer your question bro, I have been on this quest to end my career in a way that only I can. And by that I don’t mean that I am going to be ending my career any time soon. Even though the bosses would love to see me go and have a farewell party upon my expense. But you know how things go in life don’t you?? I cant stand authority, everything has to go the way that I want it to go… ’

F) So that’s why the I quit match huh?? Sure sounds a risk to me.

Goth throws the towel back at his former partner, causing the fluid to pour all over him. The two men laugh at what happens as Fang wipes it all of

‘You know that it is the only way I want to see things happen, I make the call and the rest of the world needs to answer it. Showing me whether they were build to rock my foundation or die trying. It is how things go in life, it is how the strong survive and the weak and foolish perish in their miserable attempts trying.’

Fang nods to his brother as he is listening to every word he is saying

‘I know I am taking a risk, I know that deep down inside every other wrestler is jealous, jealous for not having the guts to do whatever I am doing to make things exciting around here. I am the reason why the world is watching SCW these days. I mean seriously, I have fired Kains ass years ago, why? Because I knew that if he stayed. He would just become another example of a somebody who would end up a one hit wonder. Now he is the guy that took the King of Kings title that I should have drowned years ago. Look at Gabriel and Despayre, same deal. Ok granted, Casey is just a big giant that still hasn’t overcome any odds that he should have done years ago. He is stale, a one dimensional character that needs to grow some freaking hair.’

F) Uhm,

‘Its quite simple actually, I make people better. Whether they like it or not. I keep those who are manageable, I keep those who are marketable. I keep those who I feel that are worth of having my stamp on their backs that will make me a million bucks’

F) So you bought SCW???

Goth bursts out in laughter before shaking his head in amusement.

‘Oh no dear friend, I have my goldmine well stashed high in my wallet. This is just my way of showing the world what they were wishing that would never happen again. I have joined this federation for a reason, I joined this because people thought I could not achieve a damn thing, that it was a mistake to once again come out of retirement. People were mocking me, people were laughing at me when I once again lost a match against their precious heroes. Heroes like any of the former champions where this stinking fed took pride for. So where are they now?? Huh? Where are the golden boys, where are the marketable idiots that just do it to please the stinking fans?? No brother, they now have nobody left to please their souls and they have to resort to get the title off of me. And they know deep down inside, they cant and the wont. Why?? Because I am still the very best that this wrestling industry has to offer. So much for a joke huh???’

Goth grins, he knows the mindset his brother is in. He takes another swig at the bottle that he was drinking before splashing the remainder of the water over his body.

‘So I could care less who it is, whether it is Kain, Casey Williams or even Jordan Williams. This baby is going to remain around my waist for a very long time, that’s why I am who I am and do what I do. If someone has got a problem with that??? Then they can all kiss my ass’

The two man laugh as the shot slowly fades.

Tuesday:

Press conference:

We return from the commercials as we can see the SCW heavyweight champion sitting behind a microphone awaiting the press conference to begin. The press is gathering in the room as he takes a sip from his bottle of water. A few fans of the SCW are chanting the name of the Dutch superstar, who acknowledges them by standing up and applauding them. Getting a huge pop from them

SCW member of staff: If everyone is seated, then we can start the press conference where you can all ask questions to the current SCW champion, Goth.

Hands immediately are raised by the press as the member of staff picks out the first reporter who turns out to be Pussy Willow of the SCW self

PW: Goth, you are in a match with a man that you have had a history with that you could not beat him until

‘Until that tag team match, where I carried Kain and the entire match on my back. Yup, I beat my number one contender in the biggest momentum that he assumingly had over me. Go figure that I do not wish to concern myself with statistics. Lets pull out another statistic, this idiot never beat me for this World heavyweight championship belt.’

Goth once again grabs the championship belt and holds it for everyone to see

PW: True, you also put the challenge upon him by calling out the stipulation for this match. An I quit match, why??

‘Why?? Its quite simple, this is something far beyond just a simple match where you pin someone. It is where your pride, your dignity and your career is so much at stake. That you have to be willing to put it all on the line to save it, something that a young brass kid like him is not used to. Let alone willing to do so.’

SCW member of staff: The next question comes from the Wrestler Inside newsmagazine.

Press agent: Goth, I am curious. The last few times that you laid out a challenge, you lost. Does that effect your mindset for this coming match??

Goth stares at the press agent before grinning

‘I would be lying if it hasn’t crossed my mind for a few moments. You see, in life you need to take a gamble every now and then. And I’ll be damned if I am going to be remembered as being the guy who plays it safe. Hell I could have told Nick and Gianni to battle it out between them, to determine who would face me at the next PPV. But no, I want this sumbitch this coming show, so I can look back at him after the match and realise he is no longer a threat to me.

Press agent: And why would that be?? He is young, he has a future ahead of him.

‘Oh yes, he definitely has a future in front of him. But that’s just it. A future that has not been etched in stone writings. This is a kid that is a diamond that is still rough around the edges. That can be moulded by whomever that can get inside his brain and use him for their dirty work. And that’s where I can hurt him, inside his head. Make him utter the words of giving up, blasting his seemingly endless confidence to shreds. Make him realise that he is nothing more than a shell of what he believes to be’

Press Agent 2: NOS Journaal, Dutch news show.

Goth grins as he realises a fellow countryman is going to be asking him a question

Press Agent2: What will be your strategy? Heading into this big time hyped match? And how will you make this man say the words I quit??

‘Good question, how am I going to be doing that?? Because lets be honest, nobody in this industry wants to be the one that taps out to a submission hold or say that I cannot go anymore. The egos in the back are so sky high that nobody even is willing to put it all on the line. And isn’t that just a great high??’

Goth stares at the room as he sees AWA interviewer Foxxy Dreams, he grins as he points at the woman that works for his own company as she begins the questioning.

FD: Goth, how do you manage to work as a competitor in one company, let alone be the main champion of it and to run your own??

‘Simple Foxxy, I am someone that when you are given an opportunity to do something. That I want to do it and be the very best at it. I was hand given the ropes of a federation out of the guidance of two great men. Because they saw a man that had leadership, that had charisma and that didn’t give a fuck mentality. And that’s the same thing that I am bring to the ring, so I am sure that I am the very best candidate to do both.’

FD: How are the injuries you sustained a while ago at the hands of the druids?? Doesn’t that give you a slight disadvantage???

‘Every time I step in that ring hurt, I am in an disadvantage. But so are others who are in my situation, but does that mean I am going to give up?? You remember how I took on the world, how I crushed eleven men, how I survived hell on earth so many times that I revelled upon matches like these. Daring to put that much more on the line that got people worried. This makes me who I am today, makes me want to do that extra more to make sure I get the job done’

A few more reporters wants to ask Goth some more questions, but the SCW champion walks off as he is heading to the back. There he is greeted by some of the fans where he takes time to get on the photo with and takes time to talk to them

The ride home

Goth can be seen sitting in his limo as he is heading back to the hotel where he is staying as he is on the phone talking to the owners of the SCW

‘No Chris, you cannot convince me to change that match. For what?? For my own safekeeping?? Or the fact that you are scared that I may just down right your precious Gianni Di Luca???’

He listens to the reaction from Christian Underwood before bursting out in laughter.

‘You are serious right?? You want me to cancel the stipulation, merely you know that I have lost to Gianni four times to my one?? let me remind you that I beat that idiot with a guy that was my tag team partner, who got a walking boner as he thought of a possible title shot. I was wrestling the guy and his tag team partner hurt, still managed to steal the show and pin the guy who wants to take my championship. Oh no Chris, you are looking for axcuses to strip me from the gold’

Christian Underwood is trying to convince Goth on the phone that he has only got the very best of interest for his champion. Goth cuts him off halfway as he clearly has had enough of what he had to say.

‘Look Chris, if this means so much to you. Let me make you a deal’

Chris can be heard telling what that deal is

‘See?? You are too stupid to realise that I just sucker punched you and you didn’t even realized it. You fell for the oldest trick in the book jack, what kind of owner are you anyways?? No, you are at the mercy of the SCW champion. I am the guy that pulls all the strings and make all the bets around here. I am going to be entering that ring, I am going to work on that brainless no good for a midcard talent that you are trying to push. And I am going to make him understand that past successes are not a guarantee for the future. So why don’t you do me a favour Chris, go get yourself a nice massage. Have some chick rub you from top to toe and accept the fact that I run this show and not you.’

Goth turns off the phone as he tells the limo driver to drive him to his hotel

Wednesday


December 2 Dismember Main Event commercial

Two men!! One Goal… The SCW heavyweight championship!!!

The current champion Goth, the greatest of all time against a fluke. A nobody, a has been who has bought off more referees in past matches than Bill Clinton has had Monica Lewinsky smoke cigars!!1

An I quit match!!!

The shot opens up with two pictures, one of the champion Goth in all of his glory and one of a Homeless person that someone photographed while scratching his ass as he is trying to get some food from a garbage can. We see sports announcer Jonathan ‘The Coach’ Coachman stand between the two pictures and has his patented grin on his face

C) Welcome to a special show, as I am paid by the SCW heavyweight champion to put some more flair to this already decided confrontation. A champion against a nobody, a story that could go only one way. The way of the greatest wrestling champion in the history of the modern era. Goth….

Coach looks at the picture and has a big smile, he then turns towards the homeless person and has a look of shock on his face.

C) Uhm what is this???

Suddenly he turns his head past the camera as he apparently gets something yelled at him

C) You got to be kidding right?? I thought that this was a charity work fund raising thing, I thought that the challenger to Goth his title was to come right about now. But this…..

Coachman looks back at the picture, he is without words. Clearing his throat as he is trying to find the right words to explain what he is seeing.

So uhm, yes I guess that the information that I was given seems to be incorrect. I was told that the challenger was a young, up and coming talent of a wrestler. Not some cheap fool that eats the leftovers at some run away joint at the local highway. This is… him???

He shudders as he takes a final look, he takes out a breath spray. Spray it in his mouth as if he suddenly felt that his mouth was smelling like shit.

C) sorry about that, but every time I see someone like this. I just cannot imagine how someone like this should be even be given a chance to…. Just look at him!!!

He turns around, pointing at the picture as he has a questionable look upon his face.

C) You see, I am a respected broadcast journalist. I am a man that likes to be informed on a daily basis. I am a big time fan of the SCW champion, as I have seen so many matches of him. That I just cannot understand why people are hyping… THAT up.

He shudders as he takes a final look at the homeless persoon that apparently pretends to be Gianni De Luca

C) How did this guy even get to the point where he beat Goth four times?? Did he use a move that he likes to call the stinkface?? I mean seriously, I wrote something down so great, so amazing. So award winning like speech, that I would have won the Superbown, the NBA title and the Stanley cup all into one. But now seeing this joke, I just have to speak from the heart.

C) You see people, we all need stories that seems to be reality. But are based upon fiction and fiction only. We all want the Rocky Balboa type of hero, that comes from the bad streets of Philly… well in this case the bad streets of….

He looks at the homeless person scratching his ass one more time

C) Maryland???

Coach looks questionably towards anyone around him, but he does not get any response from them. He then shrugs as he continues on what he was saying.

C) Ok fine, the bad streets of Utah I suppose. But I wont go any further than that. But that is here movies end and reality sets in. First of all, Goth does not work on a written down script, he does not listen to authority as he is his own authority. Secondly, this man is not yet in his prime. Many of you in their thirties would already consider taking a step down for a few moments. Trying to play it safe, earn a few bucks for a final title run and then retire. Knowing that their necks and backs are begging for a surgery and a walker. But not this man, no sir!!!

C) This man is a fighter, he takes all comers and knows not when to stop. That is hat a true hero and a true champion is all about. He changes the rules where he sees fit and does it with grace and integrity… while others… urgh..

He shrugs his shoulders and remembers the money he is earning by doing this

C) While others just fart….

He then walks off being disgusted as he realises this is far from the brilliant addition to this hyped up match as he was hoping for.

Friday:

Today:

Promo

Goth can be seen sitting down in a rocking chair, smoking a cigarette and drinking some whiskey. Rocking around as he is enjoying the moonlight over the bright dark sky. He stares through his room as he is without a shirt. The championship belt is next to him on a table. The name Goth can be seen in golden letters, signifying the reign that he is having in this federation.

Does anyone know what it is like to submit?? Let alone to say the words that nobody wishes to say?? I mean seriously, it is already bad enough that you could be locked in a painful hold, so excruciating that the only thing you could do is either escape or tap out. It is like the old days, Ric Flair slapping the Figure Four leglock upon you. And you already knew that it was over, slaughtering antoher bigger and stronger guy. An opponent that you thought that the champion could not beat, yet overcoming all the odds and walk off… being the man once again that he always said he was. That’s how the plus side of it all is, but ever wondered what it would be like?? To give up?? To be outdone by a move that has sustained the test of time??? To be as old as your grandfather and even more lethal??

Goth takes another smoke from his cigarette, he then puts it down upon the ashtray next to him. Watching the smoke continue to go into the thin air, watching it as a trail leaves all the way towards the top of the room he is in.

We all end up in smoke one day, we all end up in ashes or in the dirt as we are confided between six sides of wooden plates. An uncomfortable place for someone who cannot move anymore, something as uncomfortable of being forced to say three words… I give up

You would think that three words could go by unnoticed, I mean if you say it quickly it would hardly be detected upon the human radar that is our ears wouldn’t you agree??? And yet, we all hear what the world wants you to hear. And what may that very well be you may ask??

He stares at the smoke that continues to light up to the sky.

On one side, we all know what the SCW wants. Anyone in this federation is a better champion than the current one. Those who are clearly partial, clearly unsuitable to be anywhere to be at the top as I am. And then on the other side, we have those who understand what a champion needs to be. a champion like me, a champion. A hero, a blood thirsty son of a bitch that doesn’t take no for an answer… no he gives a no, he delivers that what needs to be delivered and you just need to dwell in your incapability to be anything else but a moron.

Take Gianni de Luca for instance. A great kid, has a big time smile. Knows how to fuck his words through a sentence, he knows how to flex his muscles and to make people mad. Good for you, a gimmick that will eventually get you to the point where you are right now… a championship match. A night where you can claim the rightful place at the historical events of those who have gained this belt before you.

Goth puts his hand on the SCW championship belt, scratching his fingers over the gold plate at the top before letting it go again.

You seem so confident in your own believes, the realisation that you dialled four out of the five fingers upon your hand as the sign of a victorious realm to success. Does the past soothe your believes Gianni?? Does it make you come on stronger like no ever moment before?? It is so sweet to hear you change a few words, make you still feel unbeatable.. what was it the last time we spoke?? Oh yes, I could never beat you…. Now it is the fact that you allow me to gloat for one simple moment over a simple victory… a victory that did not mean a single thing.

I applaud you…..

He grabs a glass of beer, pours it down his throat in one simple slug, he then places the glass down again as he starts to rock the rocking chair.

You allowed your greatness to be tamed for a few moments, allowing me a single moment of success and then to bash it down again as if it would never happen again… what will be next upon your mind Gianni?? That I never pinned you in this match?? It is so simplistic to guess for words that sometimes can weigh a burden, as on other moments it would just weigh like a feather… and mean as little as a thrown away piece of paper. Scratched with a few finger nails to remove the top lair and reveal a surprise. A surprise that eventually would fall down in the trashcan as you once again failed to cash in your luck

Luck is something that needs to be held dear to you, you trash one historical moment over the fact that four weigh so much more… while in my mind the final moment overshadows those of a lesser day… you see Gianni, beating me on a night where in your words meant nothing is something else over the fact that I will beat you when it does… you see, I see a night where I can slap on every kind of submission move upon your over sized and overweighed muscles… making them turn into nothing more than dead weight… how would you make me submit to your greatness when I take out every prospect of you even raising one finger to jack yourself off in the toilet???

But then again, that would get me too much into your personal life now wouldn’t it oh future champ???

His eyes are dry, clearly he did not drink too much before he took that last swug of beer. He puts his hand before his now once again wet mouth as he wipes it clean.

I remember once where I saw a legendary figure stand up and should have hated so many men and women.. those who locked him up for 27 years… a man that recently died… a man of 95 Gianni… a man that knew only love where hatred would have been too easy. Something that I could have had for you for the many defeats that you clearly have dedicated your entire life upon… to worship the ghost of wrestling’s past to make the past come alive once more…. To make you beat me one more time, to take away this golden belt…. And for what??? Because of that one moment in time where you blame the end to everything and everyone but yourself???

Are you that unsuitable to admit a mere loss?? Disallowing me the opportunity to look you in the yes and tell you that when there is one, there are many others to follow its lead. A lead where I am most comfortable of. You see oh walking history book, the key to success is to find the trail of success within, within the confines of that what makes you a champion… THAT MAKES ME A CHAMPION!! I beat people for the gold, I make people understand that I do not look back at what happened to me in the past… I look at the facts… I look at the fact that I am the greatest of all time, the first and only ever triple crown winner. The one man that has done something that you never could… and never will

Tell me, is there a fact that would allow you to break me in this match?? Tell me, is there a notion left inside of you that would allow the world to see the Gianni that you wish to be?? or is it merely the fact that when you look in the mirror, you see nothing more than sun tan lotion drawing a blank inside your eyes???

It will be a night you will remember as the night that I dismember your dreams of ever making me submit. Of ever making me say the words that I quit, I would rather sow my lips together and suffer un earthly like amount of pain than have you walk around with my golden championship belt. Tell me Gianni, are you going to do the same??? Or are you going to sit there, tell me to shut up and that you will become the champion of this industry??? Determination over words never loses my friend.

The Gothic Dream, the one hold that will turn you into mush, the one hold that has swept bigger man off their feet and made me their master. I see a bitch coming up in a mere few days. A bitch that will struggle, a mere bitch that will try to convince his brain to withstand the pain that I will put him in. The one bitch that always got away from me, except for a few weeks ago. No Gianni, there is a thin line in greatness that needs to be intact… and that thin line of your miserable life has ended… you just don’t know it yet….

[Staggs]

 The second deadline has now passed