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Epilogue of Epic Proportions
#NP "The Nobodies (Stepane K Rock Mix)" by Marilyn Manson
Locale: Everywhere and Nowhere all at once...
"S"
Greetings from beyond the grave... Salutations from outer space.
Mystery surrounds us all, does it not? Answers to questions unasked, while asking the questions that go unanswered. We live a paradox, and I couldn't be happier. I wear my hood and go about my business just as unnoticed as any other member of the Nobody Nation.
The chatter amongst us is that the hood conceals all. Some find it a prison, anonymity as the keeper, and Tim Staggs as their warden. Others find it to be the most freeing, exilirating feeling they could imagine. Moving amongst the shadows as nothing but a blip on the radar of the masses. An invisible breeze that goes unnoticed by anyone and everyone. Though confined by a mask, it truly allows someone to be themselves to their fullest.
In my study of the human race, I have found that we only show a mere fraction of our true self to the world around us for fear of, well many things. Ostricization. Scrutiny. Rejection. Ah yes, rejection. There are so many forms. As an observer of the human race, I've found that the primary objective is to copulate and procreate in order to leave a lasting mark on this world. Rebellion is in, so we're all wearing it like it's a next season Raf Simons original. All the while, conformity is the next season. Conformity is Anarchy, and I am above the law.
This is why I don't mind pulling on some black horned Halloween mask, and wrapping a gangster bandana around my face. I don't find the black turtle neck we bought from Walmart, or the dollar bin black gloves, or the thrift store black jeans and hooded jackets we got on bulk discount from Amazon Prime with free two day shipping in a variety of mislabeled sizes. The conformity serves as a message of solidarity that I've been a part of since day one. Well, more like day three or four, when Tim asked for my help. But, it is something that I've always held near and dear to my heart. I am a celestial being, gender neutral for the time being. Though, despite that, I've been assigned a gender role of male for the Blast From the Past Tournament.
I just find it funny that having bangers and mash defines ones gender in such a simplistic, black and white way. A man must watch sports, drink beer, fix cars, mow the lawn, sit around in piss and sweat stained undergarments, beating on their hairy chests, and ordering a wife around in neandrathal fashion, while women must raise their children, cook, clean, satisfy every man's needs, while also looking as presentable at all times as June fucking Cleaver. Our ideals have not changed at all since the 1950's. Masculinity and Femininity are two separate things, and yet? We all possess them, as we are a product of both of them, all the way back to Cain, Abel, and Seth. Why do we decide to deny ourselves based on archaic ideals of gender specific roles?
Though, I'll bite. I'll puff our my big burly chest, and pass some gas while using my body language to suggest that I've got a penis. But, not until I've taken off this mask to show exactly who I am. Don't worry, I'm not a very patient person, so you will find out exactly who I am at the end of this promotional piece.
Until then, I will use big words to confuse you, and wrap your simple minds around my riddles. Mindfuck is my middle name, and winning the third annual Blast From the Past tournament is my game.
My mission is to blow your mind, and I will not stop until I have done so. But first, I wanted to explain what it's like to be behind the mask, under the hood, and a complete unknown.
Imagine you are Angus... from the movie... Angus? No? Really? You've not heard of that? Did you not live in the 1990's... Oh wait, everyone here is in their early twenties, and some were born a year after that came out, and it isn't old enough to be a classic... Let's try this again. Imagine you are E.T. ... Ha! There we go. But, the comparison doesn't really hold up. I just wanted to see if you knew the fucking movie.
Imagine you are Adam, the Christian Slater character from Untamed Heart.... Oh for Christ sake, go see a movie that doesn't star Channing Tatum or Liam Neeson or Ryan Renolds... unless the Ryan Renolds movie is Deadpool, then turn this promo off and drive to the nearest theater, buy a ticket, and a medium popcorn. I'll see you in about two and a half hours, pondering the whole time why you have not been slapped for not seeing what is clearly a cinematic piece of fucking gold. *Waits* Anyway, Adam is a character who was an orphan who almost dies from having a damaged heart. Other than one unrealistically nice nun, nobody gives a shit about Adam. He doesn't talk. He is just kind of there. People laugh at him, call him stupid, and once they've made themselves feel better about their shitty situations, they go back to forgetting that he even exists. The viewer likely feels bad, because we all know that he's a sweet guy with a heart of gold, but much like the latter parts of the movie, that doesn't pertain to the moral of this story. No one feels bad for The Nobodies, because no one cares about The Nobodies. The fans don't care, because they can't see the struggles we go through to just make it through our lives. Many of us just come to the shows to collect a small paycheck. Some of us drink it down, while others shoot it up. But, just like Adam, we get to move along and do anything we want without anyone ever noticing. Except, I'd never sneak into a girls bedroom to watch her sleep like I was Edward Cullen. Not since the restraining order(s) at least. But, we could if we wanted to. We might all just sneak into your room tonight and watch you sleep. How would you like that?
Since you've likely tuned out everything I've said over the last ten minutes because you either didn't understand half of the words, or the imagery I painstakenly mapped out for you, here's something tangible (or relative to your interests)... I will be facing the man who has singlehandedly built a future empire. I will be facing the man who has led a group of talentless, or aimless, or otherwise uninspired people or wrestlers to express themselves. While we wear a uniform, there is not a single Nobody who is like the other. We each have our own story, our own reason for being the way we are, and for wearing the hood. It has nothing to do with wanting to be uniform. It has everything to do with making a statement about how we are seen. No matter what our story is, we are on the blind side of every other star or Bombshell. Of every member of staff. Of every person who rests their eyes on us. But that only makes our accomplishments that much more impressive. And Tim Staggs is the man who has made this possible for us all.
Tim and I go way back, and that makes this that much more difficult. However, I know that he would not want me to give him any less than the best I have to offer. I refuse to give him anything else, because he deserves that. I may be a nameless, faceless question mark on the card, but my opponent knows me all too well, and I know him even better. It is just a shame that we have to face one another so soon, because I'd wager to guess that we would meet in the final round otherwise, and this match would be all the more sweet.
Faces (Part One)
#NP "Where Eagles Dare" by The Misfits
Locale: Staggs Dungeon; Las Vegas, Nevada
"T"
Standing on the outside of the ring, with my hood drawn closely over my head, I look around the gym to see a crowd of the faceless hoods, and yet I am just another one of them. Tim is centered in the ring, staring out at us as we watch him, waiting for some kind of a reaction. However, he just stares. He's gone through his fair share of problems as of late. Prescription drug addiction, being attacking by the boogeyman, and the troubles of a world tour on someone so young. However, his mind seems very clear as he studies us all. We know who he is, and he knows who we are, while only the unmasked are known to me at this point. There are many different shapes and sizes in the crowd, some male, and some female. And possibly everything in between for all I know. I look around at them, making my own guesses on the twenty or so people standing outside of the ring. However, I glance over at Tim, who grimaces and shakes his head. He points directly at me and points to me, then his eyes, and finally to himself. Like an obedient child, I simply nod my head and give him my full attention through the eye holes. He gives a satisfied nod as he lifts his hood back to reveal a new haircut.
Tim: Things around here are about to change. I feel like I have been fair as of late. I've given the opportunity to each and every one of you to do as you please. I've given the freedom that each of you need, with just one tiny request.
Tim looks across the crowd, and his eyes rest on me, narrowing them for what seems like an eternity before he continues to sweep across the crowd.
Tim: The only thing that I've ever asked of you is to keep your mask on during gatherings, and to keep a certain level of secrecy with your affiliation to the group. I am a lenient leader. I don't think I ask too much of any Nobody. Would you say that's accurate?
Tim pauses and holds his hands out in front of him, welcoming even the most harsh of criticism from The Nobodies. Celeste simply folds her arms across her chest, while the rest of them nod along with me. It is the truth, but perhaps I am partial.
Unknown 1: Isn't that the exact opposite of freedom? Asking us to keep who we are a secret?
Tim: In a sense, that is right. But, in the mask, you are free to express yourself in any way you see fit. It makes you a sense of anonymity that gives you less inhibition. I haven't asked you not to be yourself, but only to unleash your most inner desires.
Celeste: That's a common theme around here, I'd have to say.
There is a tension that could be cut with a knife, and it smothers everyone in between Celeste and Tim. There is a moment where no one says a single word, and the two just stare at one another. Not a single person in the room, masked or unmasked, wishes to share a single peep while this is going down. Tim finally breaks the awkward silence with a smile and a light chuckle. He waves off Celeste's comment as nothing more than a joke. He steps over to the ropes of the ring, staring right past me, and any other masked Nobody, to look right at Celeste.
Tim: Celeste is a soldier, isn't she, ladies and gentlemen? She has gone above and beyond since day one. She has been loyal to a fault. Never once have I questioned that. She was so eager to make an impact that she signed a contract even before her identity was revealed. She wrestled in a mask for a month, just to prove her loyalty. And it was for that exact reason that I have never felt the need to give her the official initiation.
His eyes are on fire as he continues to stare at her, and from the heat I feel on the back of my head, I'd say that she's giving it right back to him. I take a step to my left and slowly turn my head to see an unexpected smirk on her face.
Tim: Loyalty is a virtue in The Nobodies, and has been since the day I took the reigns. However... I was thinking something. Celeste, would you join me in the ring?
She pauses for a moment, studying the young Staggs in a curious manner. She finally pushes her way through the crowd and rolls in under the bottom rope. As she stands up, her and Tim share something that shocks us all. There is the most heated hug I've ever seen in my life. There is an explosion of animosity cloaked in a friendly expression, which is something I've never expected to see. The tension all but dies as they release their embrace. However, Tim suddenly straps a pair of handcuffs on Celeste, and drags her arm over to the top rope, where he clicks the other cuff. Tim takes a step back as he looks out into the crowd of Nobodies.
Tim: I think that I know Celeste better than anyone else. I think there's a bit of a resendment that she hasn't been initiated as the other unmasked. This is my mistake, and one that I hope to fix, right here... and right now...
Tim smiles widely as he waves his arms at us, welcoming us all inside of the ring. We look to one another, unsure of what is going on. I think I have a good idea, so I hesitate on entering the ring. The others roll inside as I remain standing on the outside.
Tim: As we are not on an SCW broadcasted program, I wanted to give Celeste a full on welcome... officially. I trust that each and every one of you have all required Nobodies uniform pieces?
Alexis smiles as she steps to the front of the crowd. She drops a mini baseball bat from her sleeve and rubs her hands together.
Alexis: Fuck yeah! I've been waiting for this one for a long time now...
The female members of the Nobodies all drop their weapons from their sleeves, and into their hands, ready to start beating on the surprisingly eager Celeste. Tim looks around with a smile and steps in front of them all. He studies them, and then shakes his head with a disappointed sigh.
Tim: No, this just doesn't seem right. Ladies, go ahead and start a little pregame beating, but guys? Yes, men, I want you to welcome Celeste, too... I mean, it's not like she hasn't been beated with Johnny's baseball bat already, am I right?
He giggles as Celeste's face goes white. Tim looks at her, waiting for her to object. While she appears scared, she doesn't try to stop anything from happening. She tries to hide her fear, but we see it. This is just wrong. I go to speak as Alexis jams her bat into the stomach of Celeste, doubling her over, as Tessa lashes at her with a chain, and the other masked ladies beat on her with everything under the sun. Several of the men brush past me, and begin laying into her, while a few seem to share the same apprehensions as I do. Again, I go to speak up, but I'm cut off as a voice comes from across the gym.
Spike: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!?
Spike Staggs walks into the gym, and he wastes no time in rolling inside of the ring. He walks to each Nobody and yanks the weapons from the men's hands, and tosses them to the outside. He then walks right up to Tim and shoves him to the corner in a rough manner. He tries to keep his anger in check as he quietly talks with his son.
Spike: I thought I taught you better than this, Timmy. You NEVER beat on women.
Tim: Yeah, but beating on children is perfectly acceptable, right?
Spike is caught off guard for just a second, especially as the women begin to wail on Celeste once more. Tim takes advantage of the microscopic silence as he continues talking.
Tim: Besides, I wasn't beating on her. The other guys were. I didn't touch her in a violent manner, and she was loving it.
Spike: You are never to promote that kind of violence. Do you understand me? I can't control what you do, but I can tell you that this shit right here? It will NOT take place inside of my gym, or any other roof I own. If you want to appease the sadist, take it elsewhere. But, if I ever catch wind that you laid an inappropriate finger on a lady... or female, as that one is no lady... I will beat your ass. Comprende?
Tim simply smiles, clearly finding Spike's words to be a joke. However, he obliges with an insincere nod of his head before brushing past Spike. He leans on the shoulder of a couple weaponless men, as he watches Celeste get beaten. Part of him feels like he needs to stop it, but instead, he giggles, clapping his hands together.
Tim: That's right, ladies. Let's make up for lost time. I'm starting to see flashbacks from the aftermath of the match with Jessie Salco. Very nice!
I slowly walk up to Tim. Something about this still doesn't feel right. Something about this new Tim seems to almost intimidate me for a second. I hesitate, despite raising my finger to tap the back of his shoulder. Right before I'm about to do so, he stops and looks around at everyone shy of the person who wants his attention... me...
Tim: You guys look bored. Kind of like you are feeling left out now? I got your blood pumping, only for you to be let down by my father. Why don't we...
He spins around, and latches a pair of cuffs onto my wrist as he drags me just a few feet over to the ropes. He gives me the same treatment as he gave Celeste, with a hug before stepping back. He drops a pipe from his sleeve, pointing to me with it, and that sadistic Staggs grin spread from ear to ear. I look from side to side as I watch the guys close in on me like a pack of hungry wolves. They slap their weapons against their palms, as Tim holds a hand out.
Tim: Today, we will see another member of The Nobodies inducted. This man right here will be my opponent on Sunday, as I enter the Blast From the Past tournament. To avoid any future problems with people not feeling fully welcomed, we make him feel right at home. But I want to take a moment to make it clear that I'm not doing this to gain any kind of upper hand in our match. I just want to make you feel like an official member of The Nobodies.
I nod my head. It is a natural human reaction to feel a bit of fear when you are cuffed to something, and you have nine guys standing around you with blunt objects and chains in their hands. It's even more natural to sweat when you look over and see someone, undergoing the same treatment, and they are barely hanging on to consciousness, a bloody mess as they stare over at you, the life starting to disappear from their eyes. However, I gulp and puff my chest out, ready to take the brunt of the beating. Tim steps forward, before all else, and he swings the lead pipe at me, and instantly, I feel the beautiful pain tracing from my ribs, around to my back. The swelling starts when one of the men hits me with a slap jack against my jaw. I hear the sickening crunch as my jaw pops slightly. My head turns as I feel a chain smash against my forehead. I feel a shot to my crotch, and this doubles me over to my knees. They attack me like a hungry pack of vultures, starving for my blood. Steel, leather, metal, arms, fists, and feet smashing into me from every possible direction. My arm is the only thing keeping me on my feet. I'm no stranger to violence and being outnumbered, but this is a whole new level. I feel the blood pouring from my busted lip as I look over to the ladies, who are finally letting up on Celeste. She is hunched over, her nose busted and flowing onto the white mat, and her eyes just stare over at me. Alexis crashes her boot over the back of Celeste's head, knocking her out, as I pray for the same treatment.
Tim: Welcome to The Nobodies, soldier!
The mentioning of my name seems to cause several of the members to stop dead in their tracks. However, Tim doesn't let up as he hammers away at me with the pipe. There is an inner anger that seems unquenched by the damage I've taken. It would take the blood of a thousand men to quench his anger, but I feel as though I am the start. My vision goes blurry as Tim leans down to get into my face.
Tim: Don't think that I plan on taking it easy on you next Sunday just because of our relationship. I've got far more to prove than you do, and I will do everything in my power to prove it.
With one final blow to the back of the head with the steel pipe, I watch as blackness takes over slowly, and I join Celeste in a painful world of nothingness, even for just the slightest of moments...
Faces (Part 2)
#NP "(We Were) Electrocute" by Type O Negative
Locale: Staggs Dungeon; Las Vegas, Nevada
"A"
I stare into the mirror, despite being covered up completely. I look into my own eyes, despite the constant whirring of vision from the screaming headache I've got going on. i lift up the corner of my mask, just from the bottom, and all I see is my blood covered chin. I grab the rag to my right, and I begin dabbing at the chin, cleaning it up slightly, though it leaves a rosy tint to my skin. However, my focus is on the eyes. I stare into them, and every cold thought reflects from my blue eyes. They are like ice, as every life long memory flashes through them. All of the pain. All of the anger. Every mistake I've ever made. It is like staring into a crystal ball that is my life, and it captivates me so that I almost forget about the pain coursing through my brain. However, one sharp pain causes me to close them, and groan. I reach over to my left and empty a few small brownish red pills into the palm of my hand. I reach them under my mask, and dry swallow them.
After a second, the horrible taste causes me to let out an exasperated sigh, before I lean down and lift my mask up entirely. I can't bare to look at my own face right now, so before I get the chance, I look down. I cup my hands under the running faucet, and splash the cool water over my face. I watch as it returns to the white sink with a deep red tint to it. For just a slight moment, I feel a relief from the pain, but just as quickly as the water splashes off of my face, so does the relief. I repeat the process quickly, many times over. Each time I do, the less red seems to be in the water. My face is tender to the touch, but as soon as the water is almost completely clear again, I stop splashing, and I take the rag from the side of the sink, and I run it harshly across my face. I scrub away most of the blood from it, but at the same time, I seem to aggravate some of the wounds as they slightly open back up. I place the mask under the running water to rinse it out.
After a moment of this, I stare at the water running down the drain in a swirling motion. Occasionally, I see a drop or two of blood hit the water, only to get spun around in the whirlpool. I seem to be momentarily mesmerized by it, while remaining in this position to give myself a rest from the pain. Suddenly, I look down at my phone. A text arrives for me, but it is only the thing that makes me think to look at the time. It is 2:37pm. Shit! I was supposed to meet with my partner for the tournament to discuss some strategy, and have a bit of a chemistry lesson. I'm already running late to the party, but fortunately, I'm already in the right place. I take another rag and pat my face dry. Being one with a flare for the dramatics, I place my mask over my face, and pull my hood back up as I stare back into the mirror.
Me: You can do this...
I look toward the door to the private bathroom, and I walk toward it. I hesitate for a moment as I unlock it. Soon enough, I open up the door and step out into the gym. I look around, and the only person standing inside of it is Tim. He doesn't look as confident as I thought he would after such a precise beat down on his future opponent. There is something different about him in this moment, as he rests on the bleachers. He seems lost in thought, and part of me doesn't want to disturb him. However, I know from personal experience, that getting too lost in thought becoems a bad thing. I walk over toward him, and sit down next to him. I do everything I can to hide any sign of pain as I bump into him lightly with my shoulder.
Me: Is something on your mind?
He looks up at me for just a split second, with a look that screams "No shit, Sherlock" before he looks back down to the ground. He doesn't say a word, and I respect that. I stare at the door, expecting my guest to walk through it at any moment.
Me: Just so you know, Tim? We aren't opponents until the bell rings on Sunday. You don't have to follow in your father's footsteps by playing mind games with me, and with yourself. We're allowed to rely on one another for advice and support in the meantime.
Tim: I still wonder, in the back of my mind... if I'm really strong enough to be a leader. If I am, I should be able to handle whatever I'm dealing with on my own. Besides, how do I know that you're not just playing mind games with me?
Who says that I wasn't already, right? We both know that wrestling is just as psychological as it is physical. But I do care about Tim, and I wonder what exactly is going on with him. He has gone from one extreme to the other.
Me: I just wanted to make sure that you were able to bring your best to the ring on Sunday. I don't want you to half ass it and make my win look less than deserved.
I chuckle as I nudge him, but he doesn't seem to find the humor in it the way I had. He just keeps staring at the ground silently. I sigh and run my hand against the back of my head as I join him in staring at the ground.
Me: I won't make you talk to me about what's going on, but know that you can if you need to.
Tim: You're not my keeper, okay? We are stable mates, and you support the cause I started. That will be appreciated forever, but we are not personal. Not as long as you and I are opponents. Do you understand me?
With that, Tim stands up and walks off, leaving me to stew in that comment. I am not really sure how to react to that, given his state of mind lately. Despite being in a clean mind, he has never been more disoriented. He pushes his way through the door, and right past a woman in sunglasses. She doesn't move at first but slowly she turns her head like she was glaring daggers at Tim. When he is out of view she slowly turns back to me. She gently removes them as she looks around the gym. I see the side of her face, as she removes the cloak from around her body. She is wearing a black tank top and a pair of form fitting jeans. She definitely seems like someone I would have hung around with in my earlier days of wrestling. I stand up from my seat, and place my hand on the hood of my jacket. She turns to face me with a smile on her face.
Lucy: Hello there. I received a mysterious message from my partner for the Blast From the Past tournament to meet him here, and...
As I stare into her face, something seems awfully familiar with her. It is like a ghost of the past, and one that I couldn't forget, even if I tried with every fiber of my being. She seems like someone that I've had an awful lot of dealings with in the past. Memories of her come back to me, like a flash of lightning. The good and the bad, all at once, and I'm stuck with my hand awkwardly placed on the back of my head as she looks at me curiously.
Lucy: Excuse me? Hello? Anyone in there?
She walks toward me, studying my posture and smelling my own confusion and fear, which immediately puts her on the defensive. She holds a hand up to try to ease me, but it only causes me to take a step backward. I rest my hands at my side, and I can't help but just stare back into the animalistic eyes of Lucy Seraphina.
Lucy: Are you the mystery partner I'm supposed to be meeting here today? I got a text from Tim Staggs on your behalf. Said to be here around this time and all that jazz.
Me: Yuh... yes...
She smirks. I can't tell what her intentions are with it, which is a rare thing. I'm usually great at reading people, but Lucy is very different. And despite being different, which is usually a quality I admire in people, she makes me nervous.
Me: I was thinking that it might be a good way to get to know each other before the match this Sunday.
Lucy: I would have to agree. It must be hard to wrestle in a mask like that, so I would hope you might consider removing it beforehand?
I chuckle at her comment, despite how serious she is being. I reach back and pull my hood back. I'm shaking, and it takes a few tries, but I get it down. She stares at me, as if I hadn't made any attempt to reveal my identity to her as I am still wearing a ski cap and the black devil mask.
Lucy: What are you so afraid of?
Me: I'm not afraid of anything!
I snap at her as she tilts her head to the side. She takes a moment as I turn away from her. It is then that I notice the salivating at the sight of my jugular vein. Despite the thirst, she doesn't make a single move to satiate it.
Lucy: I could smell your fear from the moment I entered the door. If you want this team to work cohesively, then I'm going to need for you to trust me.
She places a hand on my shoulder. A cold hand that sends shivers throughout my entire body. Part of me would rather feel the death coursing through her veins, than to look at the hauntingly beautiful face that reminds me of the past. I stare straight ahead at the ring as she gently removes her hand.
Me: I don't trust anyone as far as I can throw them.
Lucy: That's pretty ironic, considering the fact that you look like you could throw someone pretty far judging by your build. But, I don't need you to trust me very far. Just until we both get what we want.
Lucy's words show little compassion. As a matter of fact, they seem quite selfish. Yet, somehow it is the most sensible thing I could ever imagine coming out of her with all things considered. I let it soak in for a moment before my hand once again reaches for my hood.
Me: So then you agree? We shouldn't concern ourselves with matters such as trust, as long as we both understand that one wants this just as badly as the other?
Lucy: That is exactly what I'm saying. We only have to work together for the next six weeks. If you don't trust me beyond that, or if I don't trust you beyond that, then we lose nothing. We only stand to gain from this partnership.
I turn back to face her, and our understanding seems to spark something within me. I pull my hand down, just to flip my hood back on my head. I stare at her once more, but this time, I look only into her eyes, as steady and precise as a wolf, and just as unyielding as one as well.
Me: Then I ask you this... Do you really mean that?
Lucy: I most certainly do.
She cracks a bit of a smile. One that lets me know she does, and she refuses to apologize for it. I adjust the hood in a stylish sort of manner as I lean back against the ring, making myself comfortable.
Me: Then... I guess you won't mind if I keep my identity a mystery? I could be anyone from the pizza delivery guy you ate last night... to the owner of this company... or anyone in between, and you aren't the least bit curious about that?
Lucy: Of course I am, in some small way. You are a curious creature, but I don't need anything personal out of this arrangement. I just need to know that you're going to show up to the ring, and fight as if you were fighting for your very life. Because, if you don't... you may very well be doing just that.
When anyone says such words to me, I usually laugh it off. Perhaps it is my healthy ego, but I find such threats to be tedious and meaningless. Though, this time, I know she's serious. However, I am serious as well, which puts us on the same page.
Me: Don't worry, Lucy... I will lose the mask before our match, but I'm just having too much fun with it, so I think I'll keep it for a little longer. But you need to know one thing.
Lucy: Oh? And what is that?
Me: I plan to give this everything I've got in me. I have been training seriously since I agreed to do this. Since I inked my own contract with the bosses, in my own office, I've been taking our partnership seriously. You strike me as someone who is on the same page, and therefore, I'm not worried. I can't read you like I can with others, so I don't know if you are worried about my motives. Just know that I've been waiting for this ever since the last time I stepped foot in an SCW ring, and left so much unfinished business. I didn't come here for a one off match. I came to right many wrongs, and that's going to take more than a couple weeks.
She stares into my eyes, and suddenly, a spark of recognition seems to shine through. Something about the look she gives me, scares me again. She narrows her eyes, and then she gasps as she steps closer to me.
Lucy: Erik...?
Rarely does anyone look into the eyes and recognize someone they know so little about. However, her detective skills cause me to choke. I struggle to find my breath, and the mask definitely doesn't help any. I made a promise to Tim, and I won't destroy it so quickly by taking my mask off. Before I know what's happening, i turn away from Lucy and I run off toward the bathroom door once more. I fling it open and run inside where I feel like I'm about to throw up. Maybe I'm really not ready to take off my mask and show the world that the same broken person they had last seen, is back to try it again, even if only for the tournament. I look at my own reflection in the mirror as I rip my mask off. Before I can do anything, the nerves of it all overcome me, and I vomit right into the sink.
"G"
Faces (Part 3)
#NP "Meet the Creeper" by Rob Zombie
Locale: Location Undisclosed
"G"
The Staggs family is a dynasty. We are at the very foundation of Sin City Wrestling, and wrestling as a whole. I could go on about championships our family has held in other promotions, some of which are worldwide. But, what exactly would that prove? The six sided ring changes the entire game, and anything that doesn't take place within it, doesn't count.
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The sad part is that only one man is ever remembered, and that is only because he's the man you go to with all of your problems. He's your whipping boy. He all but licks your boot clean at the end of the night. He is a paper pusher. He is nothing more than a behind the scenes fall boy. He was one of wrestling's most notorious in the Indy circuit well into the nineties, when he stepped away from the ring to open his own Indy promotion, known as Ultimate Championship Wrestling. This spawned many names that SCW has seen on screen, and he alone discovered them. Right from his three newphews, all the way to names such as Roxanne, Michelle Andretti, Chanelle Martinez, who all achieved greatness in other organizations such as GCW, GXW, and 3WL. He has an eye for talent, but most forget that he is not someone to be taken with ease. He stepped into an SCW ring after lacing up his boots in last years Blast From the Past tournament, where he moved to the second round with Necra Octavian Kane, only to be knocked out by the team of Misty and Andrew Watts, who went on to win the tournament. Some say that he's expressed feelings that he never truly got to showcase his talents to the SCW Universe. To say that he's got unfinished business would be the understatement of the century. Could this truly be my true identity?
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Or perhaps it is I, Spike Staggs. The Godfather of Sin City Wrestling. The man who got the small territory noticed by the world in the very first place? Many of the conceited members of the roster... or more accurately, today's roster as a whole... might not remember Sin City Wrestling's humble beginnings. Not that the venues have stepped up in quality since the beginning, but from day one, Spike Staggs appeared on the broadcast, and gave it his all. Going to war with "Hot Stuff" Mark Ward, he became the household name. Granted, the household only held downwards of a few hundred each night. Upon the interest to be absorbed by the National eWrestling Alliance, Spike Staggs worked his way up their rankings, oddly enough, next to his now wife, Vixen Lafabvre-Staggs who is total hotness, by the way... and before long, he received a shot at Jack Kraven for the NeWA World Heavyweight Championship. This is when the world started paying attention to Sin City Wrestling, even if only to laugh at Kraven's newest victim. The term Sin City Screwjob (part one) was coined at this event, when Staggs walked away in an extreme upset, felt through the entire inter-fed promotion. However, during round two of Staggs-Kraven, Spike walked away with the championship, and hence, solidified SCW's place as the crown jewel of NeWA, as their posterboy. After a couple defenses, Spike lost the title, but was approached by a scumbag by the name of Brad Batee, to save the title from embarrassment, and go for it one more time. The world was not surprised that he took down said opponent, whose name... well, does not live in infamy. Honestly, no one remembers who it was, and their records have been since "lost". Spike defeated all major contenders placed in front of him, including Kai Kennedy and Sean Jackson. All, but Nick Jones, a man he had a very sordid past with. The two were set to compete, and in wrestling's stupidest maneuver to date, Brad Batee cancelled the match on suspicion that Spike Staggs was somehow set to purposely tank to Nick Jones so that he could make his exit, and Nick could carry the torch for Sin City Wrestling. Batee banished either man from competing in any inter-promotional matches ever again, (where Sin City Screwjob part deux took place), getting "Sean Jackson'd" even before Sean Jackson was "Sean Jackson'd"
The publicity alone caused Sin City Wrestling to become a self-sufficient brand, along with the Staggs name. After Spike was stripped of the title, yet never relinquishing the actual belt, he soon retired, giving only one more match for his wife, Vixen, so that they could compete in her dream match, as a team. After this, Spike and Erik opened up a gym, and the entire Staggs family has run it ever since. He enjoys success as a trainer, and a former five time World Champion... but he has made it no secret that the terms he left on were... less than admirable. Unfinished business? Obviously...
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No stranger to the debacle known as the National eWrestling Alliance, Jamie Staggs competed cross promotion for the better part of SCW and NeWA's business relationship, competing across the country in Bad Ass Championship Wrestling, starting an interfed feud with former SCW World Heavyweight and Roulette Champion, and BACW Empire State Champion, "The Italian Stallion" Giani Di Luca. Jamie felt the sting of the Sin City Screwjob through denial into certain events due to his relation to Spike. Any event he had entered around that time, he was treated as a joke, if he was allowed to compete at all. He never took it out on his brother, but since the interfed relationship dissolved, Jamie had mostly disappeared from the ring, other than a short stint in RWF. It has been said that his ire for the sport rages on. Throw these rumors next to the ones that claim Jamie Staggs is secretly a genius with a 214 IQ, and you can chalk this up to another set of "unfinished business" that could easily mean that I am... him. *Wicked, maniacal laugh inserted here*
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While the Staggs family eyes aren't exactly present with Tommy Staggs, his history deserves to be taught in this lesson. Don't worry, he is expecting you to fast forward to the inevitable reveal at the end of this promotional video, but let us not forget his name. Tommy Staggs is a man who is not as well known in SCW. His glory days were at the tender age of 18, where his brothers broke him into the business. He quickly won the GCW Extreme Championship under the name Tommy "The Terror" Edmond, holding on to it for quite some time before exiting the company. Now, only beaten out by Tim, he was the youngest champion ever in the Staggs family. In my... I mean, the first promotion run by the Staggs family, he became the UCW High Flyer Champion, remaining undefeated through the entire year long existence of the company. He has seen his fair share of hard times, many of which hit since he signed with SCW. Due to his family connections, people expected great things from him, only for him to choke at the cusp of said greatness. With so much failed expectation, would it not make sense that he would hide behind a mask, and find his way into the signature tournament of SCW? Unfinished business seems to be a theme for the family, no? And, would it be too much of a stretch to say that he could very well be mystery man? Me? It would not be a stretch at all. It is a very REAL possibility.
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How fucked up would it be, if I was my own opponent? How insane would it be for me to have entered twice? Just imagine the eptitude of that kind of awesomeness, right? Either way, I'm would go on to the next round. I mean, it is possible that the son of the "Most Sadistic Bastard" and "Wrestling's Original Mindfuck" could pull the wool over your eyes, no? Tim Staggs is the definition of unfinished business. He couldn't even finish a doughnut from the catering table. He can't finish assembling a team of people who want to be seen with him. He can't finish telling a girl how he feels before she goes off and screws wrestling's grossest man since Drake Green retired for the fiftieth time. He can't finish a feud with Brother Grimm without nearly overdosing on Xanax, and shitting his underoos. He still hasn't finished The Sixth Sense. Spoiler alert, Timmy... Bruce Willis... is dead... *Eerie Twilight Zone music*
Yeah, obviously Tim couldn't finish a plan to ensure he makes it to the second round of the tournament, because God, Jesus, Joseph, Mary, even Stevie Wonder can see that his skills won't do it. I can say it. You can't. I'm family. In case you didn't notice all the whispery bold letters spread kind of cryptically throughout this promotional video, it has spelled "S-T-A-G-G" and somming up soon, it will throw up another "S" to complete the name "Staggs". Oops, I forgot to say "Spoiler Alert" again. Too bad you're probably a moron and didn't get it on your own. I'm now sad for the human race *Sad face*
Tim Staggs is a future star. Emphasis on the word "future". It is not his time yet. He needs to learn the business and earn his way to greatness. He's asked over and over again to get noticed for something other than his name, but that would require he actually do something worth noticing. Holding the tag title is something that only Spike has never done before. Even Jamie has held the tag belts. Freaking Jamie Staggs! Maybe the useless crab apple doesn't fall far from the tree? Again, I can say it, you can't... My point is that the tag belts are like something you throw to someone who whines and cries about not getting any exposure, while the people with actual skill and appeal go for titles like the World Championship... um, at least when I last wrestled, that's the way it was. We didn't aim for belts where we have to rely on another person to carry them. We didn't aim for the low card belt that put our bodies through hell in fire, barbed wire, thumb tacks, and other forms of torture, because... I don't know... the wrestlers who go for higher belts usually have actual skill. We don't need weapons or jaged broken pieces of glass to beat the ever living fuck out of someone, because we're capable of doing that with our own two hands and two feet. We didn't need to bleed on the outside, because internal bleeding and hemorraging was badass back then. I tell you what, I've taken note, and the next time I wrestle, I'll light the announce table on fire and put little Timothy through it.
What is that you say? Every member of the Staggs family, short of Tim, was known for hardcore wrestling? Multiple hardcore titles were held by Staggs? Of course. And then we got better than that. Tim thinks he is, so he doesn't gravitate toward them, but somebody needs to teach him how to swing a steel chair, because judging by his third grade tee ball games, he can't swing for shit.
Basically what I am saying is that, even with Amanda Cortez at his side, Tim Staggs stands no chance of winning. I point to my head because this is where he needs to be. He needs to get inside of my head, and out of his own. He needs to rape my ears, and fuck my brain.... oh.... wait.... that breaks all kinds of taboo walls down, doesn't it? Fuck you and your one take bullshit!
The lights have been on to reveal each picture placed in front of us, including one of Vixen, who needs no introduction as the woman who swept through every title SCW had at the time, to become the first Bombshell Grand Slam Champion, before the Internet Championship was introduced. Plus, she's hot, and she doesn't leave anyone's memory, amirite? I mean, this gorgeousness? I point down to her picture and nod my head as I do the giddy up motion and nod my head. Gorgeousness like that haunts your dreams. I'd like to tell Spike that I'm sorry in advance, but I'm not much for lying these days. I'm so not sorry, brother.
Now that we've caught you up on all of the history of the family... oh, wait... here's a picture of Kittie, but we've got devil horns and mustaches drawn all over it, as well as a terrible rendition of a pube infested penis ejaculating in her left eye, so it's not very recognizable. She divorced Jamie, and ran away like Misty, except she waited until after a Vegas Wedding to run, instead of doing it before. But, both women knocked a pair of Staggs nuts on their way out. We've come to accept it as part of the breaking up process in our family. *Shrugs*
Also, there is a redheaded dominatrix that held a few titles in other places, and beat the ever living fuck out of Misty to give us our most bloody match to date. She also birthed my opponent this week. Roxanne... ick...
I think we're done with our history lessons, you beautiful, beautiful self absorbed morons. I lift up my mask so that you can see the signature Staggs smile. I can still keep an air of mystery, but I find it very important that Tim and Amanda see the words coming from my lips as my heels click against the concrete floor of this warehouse. I walk closer to the camera, yet I remain far enough away that the shadow hides certain features that may give away my identity.
Me: I hope that you have enjoyed your history lesson, but we are not finished. You see, behind this mask, rests the man who will do what no other Staggs has done... or will do, Timothy. I am going to win the Blast From the Past Tournament... with Lucy Seraphina. Timmy, you asked me if I was playing mind games with you the other day. I wasn't. However, I've been in your head since the day I signed up for this tournament, and learned you were also involved in it. I'm not like this current generation. I do my homework. It doesn't matter if it is my nephew, my son, my great nephew...? It doesn't matter at all. This business is very cut throat. You can think of this as a lesson in the business, Timbo. I am doing you a kindness, really. This match is going to be the time where I show you that it is better to have than to been had. I could go out there, and I could lie down on my back so that you and Amanda get an easy win. But, what would that teach you? It is a disservice to you, kiddo. It does exactly what every fan is thinking... no, saying... It is giving you a free hand out because of your bloodline. It won't make you earn a damn thing, and it's time to put up or shut up.
I step in front of Tim's picture, and I look into those big blue eyes of his, full of innocence, and dark circles from Xanax abuse. The middle fingers serve as the only essence of hope his picture offers. I sigh as I gently stroke the red mop of hair on his head, at least where it is represented by the picture. I runb my gloved hand down his cheek and to his chin as I talk right to him.
Me: You may find it to be a slight to you. I mean, a win over me could really push you into the stratosphere, but the likes of Jessie Salco and Steve Ramone would only say that it was handed to you, like everything else. And, sadly? They would be right, for once in their miserable lives. Well... okay, maybe not once, but even a broken clock is right twice a day. My point being is that you have a multi time Tag and Bombshell champion in your corner. You have advantages all on your own. I don't know Lucy that well, but I am all too familiar with Amanda Cortez, and you couldn't have drawn a better partner, so long as you keep your eyes off of her chest, boy. Though, I'm afraid that you might feel a little too comfortable with her. I tell you what, I will give you another bit of friendly advice. A true kindness... Don't find familiarity in her, Tim. I mean, she is a sultry redhead without a single fetish unexplored, who has a penchant for leather, and owns a fetish club in California. Short of the club, she is a shorter version of your mother... except looking at her, she has a right to be a whore, because... well... hmm... yeah. Sorry, that truly was inappropriate. I'm sorry for that. Neither woman is a whore, because neither accepts payment for their "services". I know a member or two of the family who has tried. Amanda is so kind, she won't even take a tip... just THE tip.
I crack a grin, and wave almost apologetically at the camera. Of course I don't mean it, because Amanda has only ever had sex with her wife... and Max Burke... and Holly Wood... and she tried with Delia and Angelica many times, so who knows if either of them ever cracked... It's not like she is a slut or anything. But, I'm not going to say that out loud, because I like people to think that I'm a nice guy, even though I'm a manipulative asshole. That wasn't a hint, because it's almost a standard trait of the Staggs family...
Me: Of course it's just the mind games. I'm getting inside of your head, because that's essential to the game. It is as I told you, Tim. Thirty percent physical, and seventy percent mental. But, now that I've given you your fair share of mind games, I almost feel like a show off. I tell you what, son. We're going to put this on an even playing level. I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly what I'm getting into on Sunday, but you don't... So, in the interest of fairness...
I lift the hood off of my head, and drop it to my shoulders. After resting there for a moment, the lights come on to show off the mist going through the room. I turn my head to the side, and I lift the mask from my face, almost pain stakenly slow...
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Me: I'll see you Sunday, son...
I grin wickedly at the camera before reaching my hands into the air, snapping my fingers, and causing the scene to face out entirely... TO BLACK!
