Post by Cleo Phillips on Oct 9, 2022 16:57:03 GMT -5
The PWS faithful know who Cleo Phillps is, the ex-con who used PWS to help herself rise out of poverty. They know she’s from the streets, and it’s made her one of the toughest fighters in the company. They know she has a passion for helping the misguided youth of the world, and they know she earned her way to become World Champion due to her determination and never give up attitude.
They know many things that make up her character, that led to her being the champion she is today, and the champion she intends to continue being until the last breath is drawn from her body. As much as the PWS faithful know about their World Champion, she still has many stories left untold, and even still more stories to create and tell.
On a solid black background, some words appear, read by the voice of Z-Money before, the video clip starts.
The following is a reenactment of a moment in the life of Cleopatra Phillips using paid actors and actresses, it may contain violence and subject matter not suited for young children.
View Discretion is Advised.
The scene opens, the actress playing the part of Cleo stands on a corner, leaned against the side of a local Bodega, a buzzing sound is heard before she pulls out her cell phone and answers the call
“Yo, Jules” she said, “What’s good babe?”
“Yeah.” said Cleo, “I’m at the job now, I don’t get a break for a while though. I should go back to taking these calls.”
“I promise.” said Cleo, “I’m at the call center, I know you had to pull some strings to get me this job. I ain’t gonna waste it.”
“Well, I don’t know who said that, but it’s not true. Shouldn’t you be in class?” Cleo continued
“Cancelled?” Cleo replied, “Lucky for you I guess. But I need to get back to work.”
“I’m not lying!” Cleo insisted.
“Okay, love you too.” Cleo said, before flipping her phone shut, and slipping it back into her pocket
“I’m sorry Jules…” she muttered to herself.
A few short seconds pass, as a man in a hoodie approaches Cleo.
“You holdin’?” he asked.
“What you in for?” Cleo asked
“Gimmie an 8-Ball” he said
“90.” she replied.
“C’mon, I can get it for 60 from my usual guy.” he said.
“Then go to him, and buy that cheap shit if you want” said Cleo, now getting annoyed, “You’re either buyin’ or you’re steppin.”
The guy grumbled some obscenities to himself, but ultimately pays for his drugs without further issue, and goes about his way. Some more time passes, and this time a car pulls up, the moment Cleo notices it her eyes grow wide, as a young blonde female steps out of the car, looking angry.
“Jules..I…I can explain” she said “I had to fill in for Mo’, she’s on other business. We can’t leave this corner unattended. I’m still working, still making money…”
“I don’t want to hear it Cleo.” said Juliet, or rather the actress playing the part of Cleo's lover, “You know I don’t want you doing this anymore, you’re better than this. I had to pull a LOT of strings to get you that call center job, and you blow it off for this?!”
“This is who I am though!” Cleo argued back, “I can’t sit in some cubicle for hours makin’ phone calls to people who don’t pay their bills. Can’t you just accept me as I am?”
“I do accept you.” Juliet insisted, “But you know this isn’t any life to be living. I don’t want you see you get locked up again. It’s nice having you around, and I’d like it to stay that way.”
Cleo’s eyes noticeably shift off to the side, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Juliet.
“Are you even listening to me?” Juliet said, eyebrows furrowed.
“Sorry…” said Cleo “Yeah I heard you, don’t worry I ain’t getting locked up anymore. You don’t gotta worry about that.”
Cleos eyes shift off to the side again, as she continues her tone growing serious, “Hey…you should probably get out of here. We can talk about this later..”
“We can talk about it now.” insisted Juliet, “Get in the car, and we’ll got to lunch.”
“I can’t just leave like that.” said Cleo, “But we’ll meet for dinner. I promise.”
“You CAN just leave though, nobody owns you Cleo. You can create your own destiny. I can see it in you, you’re better than this life, you have so much to offer, so much to give…” Juliet started
“JULES GET DOWN!!!” Cleo shouted interrupting her, as she grabbed Juliet, tackling her to the ground, just as a car drives by slowly, unloading gunfire before skidding away leaving on-lookers frightened.
“Shit..shit..shit...” said Cleo, “You okay Jules?”
No response, Cleos eyes shifted downward, and instantly grew filled with emotion.
“Jules?!” she said weakly, lifting the near lifeless Juliet into her arms, ridden with bullet holes and gasping for air, “Fuck fuck. No. You’re okay…I told you not to ever come down here! Jules!”
“Cl..eo..” Juliet gasped, coughing up some blood, “..You.. can do better…please….for me.”
“Jules!” Cleo said, tears forming, “No, don’t give up, we can get you to a hospital..”
“Just..find something better….” gasped Juliet, “For me..”
Sirens could be heard off in the distance, as Cleo held Juliet’s now lifeless body, Cleos tears fell down her face, and soon turned to anger, she quickly snatched Juliet's keys out of her pocket and hopped in her car.
“I will avenge you my love.” said Cleo, as she started the car, and sped off in the same direction of the car that did the drive-by.
The camera steadys on the Cleo actress behind the wheel, as is slowly fades away, and fades back in to the real Cleo sitting on a locker room bench, towel around her neck, looking as if she just finished a workout. The World Championship hangs behind her in one of the lockers.
“I did avenge her.” said Cleo “Or I thought I had, I just went about it in the wrong way. But that’s a story for another time. Truth is, my real vengeance came by me doing what Juliet wanted me to all along, and that’s find something better. If she could see me as the champion I am now, I know she would be proud. Maybe somewhere, she can see me. Who knows.”
“All I can do is keep fighting. I can’t change what happened but I can still make my on future and for the past two years I’ve kept fighting, and it led me to the championship hanging behind me.” Cleo said, “If anyone thinks I’m going to lose this as fast as I did the Collateral Damage championship, they need to think again, because THAT was a different Cleo Phillips. Mike Hawk and Alexandra Calaway are both fine competitors, and each bring their own style to the table. MIke Hawk of course, still loves to bring his jokes and cultural references.”
She laughs slightly to herself, and, cracks her neck before continuing.
“I told you last time we faced Mike, you need to bring more than jokes if you want to defeat me, and you didn’t listen did you?” she shrugged, “However since then you’ve gone to war against Johathan Sanders, and grown up quite a bit. Enough to earn yourself a match against the champion, and that’s an honor nobody can take from you. However, you still show a lack of maturity that it takes to really be a champion. I feel confident in saying that I speak not only for myself, but Alexandra as well in that you are going to be in the ring with two bad bitches who don’t really care how funny you may or may not be. I can tell you from my last experience against her, that Alexandra is no laughing matter, and having come as close as she did to being champion herself only means she’s going to come harder than last time. Of the three of us, I think you might be the weak leak Mike, or maybe that’s the image you want to project upon us, so we don’t take you seriously. Whatever it may be, I take being champion very seriously, so you better knuck if you buck boy, because this is going to be the toughest fight of your life.”
With an intent stare into the camera, she forms a fist with one hand, and punches the palm of the other.
“Make all the puppets of me you want Mike, because you’re going to find out that I am no puppet, that I am a very real girl and I got no strings to hold me down.” she says with a grin, “How’s that for a reference? I dunno, it’s never been really my style to do stuff like compare my opponents to Star Wars films, I’ll leave that to Mr. Christmas Special.”
She winks and gives her own shit-eating grin to the camera.
“Prove me wrong Mike, prove your more than just jokes and cultural references and show me that if you WERE to become champion, you would take it as seriously as I do.” Cleo continued, “This is going to be defense number one in the long reign of Cleo Phillips, and it’s going to take more than a parody or a puppetshow to take what I’ve fought so hard to achieve. I’ll rip that fake mustache you love to wear so much right off your face and shove it straight up your ass. Tell me I won’t, see what happens.”
She laughs again, and takes in a breath.
“But what of our other cohort?” says Cleo, “What of Alexandra? Someone who has been in this business longer than the two of us have, and gone through bloody battles of her own. Someone, I know first hand is very capable, and someone who will go to whatever lengths possible to get what she desires, but much like the president shall be impeached, so too shall the queen be dethroned as she becomes a victim of her own darkness.”
Cleo smiles and looks down at her palm, mulling over her next words
“I tried to show you respect, and you slapped my hand away.” she said with a shrug, “I just wanted to show the respect you deserve, but you’re still dealing with your own issues, your own darkness, and it appears you enjoy it. But I assure you, that very same darkness is what holds you back.”
Cleo sighs a heavy sigh, shaking her head.
“You worry too much about your image, you need people to see you as some sort of dark queen, or goddess.” Cleo continues, “You need to realize this isn’t Lord Of The Rings, or some Dungeons and Dragons game, this is reality and until you realize that you will always be second best. People like myself, people like Alexis Makarios, we don’t play games, we just come out and give the best fight we can give. If we lose, then we learn from it and live to fight another day. You Alexandra need to be able to accept loss, you need to be able to see losing as the strength it actually is.”
Cleo takes in another breath, and a short moment to think over her next few words.
“Take my loss of the Collateral Damage championship” Cleo explained, ‘That loss changed me, and the beatdown that followed humbled me. It made me realize that if i wanted to really be successful, I had to do better, be bette. Had I defended the championship that night, I might still be that same trick ass bitch I was when I first arrived here.”
“Who knows?” she continues, “What’s important now, is I am the World Champion, and I will continue to be the image of positive change. I don’t need to put on this image of darkness to make myself seem more intimidating, and I don’t need to make any sort of jokes like a petulant man child. I’m just me, I always stay real and I always come for a fight. The difference between people like myself, and people like my opponents is I take Richard Rider just as seriously as Johnathan Sanders, I’ll take The Squid-Man just as seriously as I would Alexis Makarios. Because everybody who steps in that ring deserves respect, and yes that includes both of my opponents as well.”
Cleo nods respectfully at the camera.
“Don’t get it twisted.” said Cleo, “I believe you both deserve this opportunity. Mike Hawk has proven time and time again at he’s both smarter than he looks and smarter than he acts and that he’s to be taken a lot more seriously than his name might imply, and after the fight Alexandra gave me at Rise to Glory, she’s more than earned herself a second chance. I just hope they don’t mind me reminding them both who the just who the hell I am, and just why I’m the one who sits at the top of this company as it’s champion.”
She motions at the belt hanging on the locker behind her.
“Last Riot ended in all out war which feels appropriate.” Cleo continued, “Because that’s what you both need to go through to take this from me. It seems like there’s trouble around every corner as of late in PWS, and I’m not sure what to make of all of it. All I can do is stay in my lane, and take out whomever dare step into it. All I can do is be is a champion the people can be proud of, a beacon of hope among whatever darkness may be lurking around the corner. I will continue to champion for this company. Win or lose,I will always be a champion, because the truth is while the belt behind me is a proud symbol of being a champion, a real champion has it in side here.”
She taps at her chest, right near her heart.
“Their heart, with the right mind, and the right spirit you will always be a champion. It’s that mindset that led me here, and it’s that same mindset that will keep the championship symbol behind me around my waist. I have no doubt both of you will hold it some day, but that day isn’t today, and it isn’t anytime soon. This is my time, and nobody is going to take it away from me just yet.” Cleo said, voice filled with her usual confidence and swagger, “Hit me with your best shot, no be better than your best because THAT is what it’s going to take to take MY World Championship. You both know that by know though right? You both know that when you step into the ring with me at Dishonored, that I am going to show up, and do what I always do…”
The camera cuts to a closeup shot of her face.
“SET IT OFF”
The camera stays focused on Cleo’s look of confidence, and the championship behind her for a few short seconds, before fading to black.
It wasn’t The Lyons Den, but the local Toronto gym Cleo and Z-Money found was more than accommodating to the PWS World Champion, and her trusted companion. They even allowed them to use the equipment for free, until PWS left town.
That offer extended to the rest of the locker room as well, which is how the two found themselves forced to deal with ANTITHESIS member, Alexander Lyons.
“Are you just gonna fucking follow me everywhere Alex?” Cleo said annoyed.
“Hey. I’m just here to use the gym. Heard they were letting the stars of PWS workout for free.” said Alex arrogantly.
“And you just happen to be here at the same time as I do” said Cleo rolling her eyes, “You’re not even booked, none of your little cronies are. Why don’t you accept ANTITHESIS is dead, move on and be the superstar Keevee Kaiser is trying to make you into?”
Alexander laughs, Cleo looks to be growing frustrated, but Z-Money is there keeping her calm.
“ANTITHESIS will never die. We’re just currently discussing what to do about a certain problem, none of which is any of your business.” Alex said, with a smirk.
“What is it you want?” said Cleo, “Trying to goad me into a fight in public? Hope I get arrested and can’t make the show? Is that it? Because you’re going to have to try harder than that.”
Alex laughed again in response, and put on his shit-eating grin.
“That would be too easy.” he said, “I’d rather watch you fall on your own sword, a victim of your own pride and arrogance.”
“You’re the only arrogant one around here” said Cleo
“Maybe I am, but at least I can admit it. But you think that this.." Alex says, grabbing the World Championship that Cleo had next to her. “You think this gives you the right to preach to the rest of us how to live our lives.”
“Fuck you Alex.” said Cleo grabbing for the championship as Alex pulls it away, with Z holding her back, “That’s my championship, Z let me go!!”
“Some of us are getting tired of hearing you suck up and preach to these fans about making change for the better, chasing your dreams and never giving up no matter how hard things get.” Alex said, still taunting Cleo. “When the truth is, you just got lucky. Some probation agency needed to fill some quota, and you drew the winning number. That won’t happen to everyone, and some us us rather enjoy the darkness, it’s something that can be truly wonderful if you learn to embrace it’s true beauty.”
“Just give me my belt, and get out of here.” said Cleo.
“Just remember, as much as you might think it does, this belt doesn’t give you much power. As I’ve proven, this belt can easily be taken and held by someone else, giving them the power. But real power is forever, real power can’t be taken away, and that is what I seek. Power.” said Alex. “This piece of metal, may hold some, but it isn’t real power.”
Alex disrespectfully tosses the belt at Cleos feet, she moves to attack but Z still manages to hold her back, only letting her pick her championship off the floor.
”Power is power.” he grinned, patting Cleo on the cheek, before walking off, leaving her and Z alone.
“I really fucking hate that guy" said Cleo.
“Don’t worry about him.” said Z-Money, “He’s just trying to break you.”
“I know…” she said, calming herself. “Thanks for holding me back, I was probably gonna do something stupid.”
“You know I gotchu.” said Z, “Well, unless you lose…then I have to turn on you like Big Mo’ did.”
Z smiles a big toothy smile.
“Very funny.” said Cleo rolling her eyes, “Well, you won’t have to worry about turning on anybody because I don’t plan on losing.”
“Course not.” nodded Z, "I was just playin’ anyway. I ain’t no snake like that."
“I know.” Cleo said patting her friend on the back, “And like I always tell you, it’s good to know I have my own Sam watching my back.”
“Word.” said Z-Money.
“Anyway, I think the weight benches are free, you wanna spot me?” Cleo asked.
“It’s what I’m here for.” Z replied kindly.
And so, putting the unfriendly encounter with her Lyons Den cohort behind her, Cleo Phillips moved back into focus mode. Dishonored was just a few days away, and she had to be on top of her game to win this one, two tough competitors, both of which she has beaten in one on one situations, but now it’s the two of them at once. Some solace can be found in that they will be looking to rip each other apart just as much, but that also means the world championship could be lost, without her even being involved in the decision. Something is sure to pop off at Dishonored, and when the smoke settles only one person will stand as the PWS World Champion, and by hook or by crook that person will be the reigning, defending PWS champion of the world, “The Body Snatcher” Cleo Phillips.
Post by Mike Hawk on Oct 9, 2022 21:20:40 GMT -5
Act 1: Call Now!
*The camera fades in on a black room. By which I don’t mean dark, it’s actually very well illuminated. I mean the floor and walls are black. There’s a stool in the center of the room, and Mike Hawk is… not sitting atop it, instead he’s rummaging through a drawer in the back of the room, looking through it as he haphazardly discards several socks and sock puppets.*
Mike: God dammit, where the FUCK is Rod Serling!?
*He notices the camera and immediately, hastily gets into costume, including a fake light brown beard that keeps falling off, and an inexplicable cowboy hat. He’s also already wearing a black leisure suit with a burgundy button-up shirt underneath. He looks directly into the camera as he speaks with a deep southern US accent.*
?: Hi, I’m…
*He tries to think of a name and says the first things that come to his head.*
?: Keith… Fuckley. And I’m here representing the wonderful, heartfelt, sponsorship-machines themselves, the People You Don’t Care About, Nor Have You EVER Cared About, Record Company. Or the PYDCANHYECARC for short, or… Pid-can-hi-cark.
*He nods as he says this, placing his hands on his lap.*
Keith: Today, we’re looking at the newest album in our collection of… far too many of them, as we get the signature rap album of one miss Cleo Phillips. Yee haw. Let’s hear a bit from her now.
*The camera cuts to a different room, where Mike is in ghetto attire, like a full Cleo Phillips costume, except without painting his face, because despite all evidence to the contrary, even HE has boundaries. Otherwise, though, he’s nailed the look. A black t-shirt with some unintelligible graffiti on it, a matching black hat with “Fuck Da Rulez” written on it, and the Z in “rulez” is backwards, ripped jeans, and standard red sneakers, as well as sunglasses. Over his shoulder, he’s got a 2x4 with a piece of paper stapled to it that reads, “PWS World Champion”. He looks right at the camera as a beat starts.*
“Cleo”: My name’s Cleo Phillips and I’m here to say… I have no chance to win this match, so you’ll have to pray!
*The beat suddenly stops, only giving us a single line of the song, as the camera cuts back to… shit, what did I call him? Right, yeah, Keith. And he looks into the camera.*
Keith: But don’t just judge it yourself. Here’s a testimonial from a good personal friend of Cleo’s, as far as I know… the famous rapper, Coolio.
*The camera then cuts to another room where Mike is dressed like Coolio. He’s about to do a bit, when something is whispered to him by the cameraman.*
*There’s a pause.*
Mike: Oh no! When!?
*He pauses again.*
Mike: Oh god… oh no, that’s terrible! We… I can’t do this bit. I’m so sorry, I had no idea!
*There’s a pause, then it cuts back to the other, clearly prerecorded video of Mike as Keith Fuckley.*
Keith: Well, wasn’t that delightful? Now, here’s a word from another good personal rapper friend, Eminem.
*The camera cuts to a single green M&M on a table. Mike picks it up and eats it.*
Mike: Mmm, fuck that’s so good-
*The camera cuts back.*
Keith: Wow, simply wonderful. Now, here’s Snoop Dogg to give his opinion. Snoop?
*The camera cuts to Mike dressed as Snoop Dogg; a baggy t-shirt, multiple golden necklaces, hair in cornrows, and a hoodie over top of the t-shirt, and inexplicably a piece of paper taped onto the front that says "Snoop Dogg" on it, with an arrow pointing up.*
*The camera cuts back to Mike as Keith.*
Keith: Thanks Snoop! So be sure, everyone, to pick up “Cleo Phillips: The Rapping Champion” today. Available at all record stores, and for some reason, bookstores. Join me next time when I tell you about “Pope Francis Sings the Blues”. I’m Keith Fuckley, and have a wonderful day.
*During this part, he’s in a small rectangle at the top left of the screen, and the rest of the screen is taken up by typical infomercial information, showing a picture of the CD and displaying a number to “CALL NOW”. The number is “1-888-888-8888-8888-88888-88888-888888-888888-8888888-8888888-88888888-88888888”. The price is listed as “Too Much”. The camera slowly fades to black on this screen, with Mike giving a thumbs up the whole time.*
Act 2: Come Sail Cal-away
*The camera fades in on Mike Hawk in full Alexandra Calaway cosplay, complete with a long wig with green highlights at the bottom. He’s very casually eating spaghetti and meatballs, until suddenly a sock puppet, a black sock with a red heel, with, of course, googly eyes, slowly rises beside him. It speaks with a deep, evil voice.*
Sock: Embrace your inner darkness.
Sock: Embrace your inner darkness!
Sock: Embrace your inner darkness!
Sock: Embrace your inner darkness!
“Alexandra”: Yeah, okay.
Sock: Embrace yo- wait, what?
“Alexandra”: Yeah, I’ll do it.
Sock: I… expected some more resistance.
“Alexandra”: Nah, after enough persistence I suddenly decided I want to do it for some reason.
Sock: Oh. …Well, I’m not really sure what to do now. I mean, I’ve spent all this time telling you to embrace the darkness, and now that you’re doing it, I don’t know what comes next.
“Alexandra”: I could continue to lose matches.
Sock: That does sound like you, doesn’t it?
“Alexandra”: I’ll probably just be part of the only active tag team in the company, forcing a bunch of random pairings that don’t make any sense, or fight The Landersons, the worst punishment imaginable!
Sock: If only we had more tag teams.
“Alexandra”: Why do you care? You’re a sock!
Sock: Because I’m just a dream!
*Suddenly the camera cuts to Devon Ryder, in bed, waking up, his eyes suddenly opening.*
Devon: …What the fuck did I eat last night?
Act 3: The (Slightly) Serious One
*Cut to the inside of a gym. All sorts of metal equipment as far as the eyes can see. Treadmills, lat pulls, free weights, you name it, this gym has a section for it. As we pan through, a bunch of people are working out, chief amongst them is Mike Hawk, the “President of Pro Wrestling”. He’s got on a black tank top that says “WHO CARES?” on it in big white lettering. He’s wearing red shorts, as well as white running shoes. He’s doing reps on a leg press machine, and notices the camera, giving it a smile.*
Mike: Oh! Hi there. I was just training for my big title match tonight!
*He gets up from the machine, wiping it down delicately before stepping away from it completely.*
Mike: For those of you who don't know me, I’m Mike. And I’m your next PWS: Apex World Champion.
*He starts walking across the gym, sitting down on a thigh machine.*
Mike: And I’m not some dumbfuck luchador wearing a stupid-ass mask just saying I’m gonna get an undeserved world title match. I’m here because I deserve to be. I earned my place in this match when I outlasted 8 other people in an endurance match, even taking it on myself to eliminate a vampire, which is, I think, how ALL presidents get to the top. I know Lincoln did… unless that movie lied to me.
*He thinks for a second, then shrugs. Someone comes up wanting to use the machine he’s clearly sitting on and not using, and Mike tells him off.*
Mike: What the hell are you doing, you idiot? Get out of here!
*The man nods and leaves, and Mike sighs.*
Mike: The nerve of some people… anyhow…
*He cracks his knuckles, looking into the camera.*
Mike: Cleo… Alex… I’ve been thinking. I know, a rare thing for me, but hear me out. After much thought, I’ve determined that the 3 of us are each the absolute best at one particular thing in this company! And I figured I’d share that information with you now!
*He stretches, putting his arms back as he does, before returning to a neutral position again.*
Mike: Let’s start with you, Cleo. The champion. The woman named after a shitty movie from the 1960’s. A woman who grew up fighting, and instead of growing as a person and changing her behaviour, instead just decided to punch harder. And you chose this person as your world champion!?
Mike: That’s actually what you’re the best at, Cleo. Weaseling your way into opportunities you haven’t earned. Alexandra and I? We actually got into this match properly. But you? You’ve been Collateral Damage champion, United Champion, and now World Champion… and how many of them have you qualified for the matches for, hm? How many times have you actually had a qualifying match, and not just a random title match you got, to be blunt, because the staff panicked about not having diverse enough champions?
Mike: Look… maybe you ARE talented enough to actually be worthy of challenging for these belts, but the fact of the matter is, you’re being handed everything on a silver platter. And yes, I partially blame Alfonso Banks for this, since he’s got far too much power, the incompetent buffoon, but also, I think management saw what happened between you and the lovechild of Marilyn Manson and a mop, and panicked, deciding making you champion was the only way to keep you in the company and stop you from suing them over charges of “I got pushed off a fucking roof”. And I know I bring that up a lot in my promos, but… that’s because it’s the only memorable thing you’ve done in this company. When people hear the name “Cleo Phillips” they don’t think “You mean the PWS: Apex world champion?”, they think “Oh, you mean that bitch who fought a skeleton and lost?”.
Mike: And I want you to think about that. The fact that your biggest impact on this company, the only real thing of note you’ll be remembered for, is that time when you were thrown off a roof by a much more interesting champion. That time Jonathan Sanders proved that you were not worthy of the Collateral Damage championship, and that no matter how big you think you are, there’s always a bigger fish. The thing people will be talking about for years and years, the Cleo Phillips moment that’ll make every list… is when you fell to your fucking death. And I want you to remember that, Cleo. I want it to fester, permeate into your mind like mustard into a slice of white American sandwich bread, so that it’s easier for me to get the 1-2-3-4.
*He puts up each finger in turn when he says that, then pauses.*
Mike: …I mean, um… 1-2-3. That’s it, no 4. I don’t know where the 4 came from.
*He puts up only 3 fingers this time.*
Mike: But don’t worry! Tonight, in this match, I’ll give you something else to be remembered for. But just like the first time, it’ll be putting over someone much more deserving of a top spot.
*He pauses for a moment.*
Mike: …And just so you know, none of this has been meant in a racist way! It doesn’t matter if you’re brown, peach, green, blue, clear, you’ll never be as good as Mike Hawk. That’s just a fact.
*He smirks, standing up and walking to an exercise bike, sitting on it right as someone else was about to, making that person look at Hawk with a baffled and angry expression. Hawk looks up at them and speaks.*
Mike: What? You snooze, you lose, buddy. And you… snost.
*The person scoffs and walks away. Hawk continues to just sit on the machine and not use it, even putting his feet up on another exercise bike, pushing the person off of it who had been working out. The person falls to the ground with a comedic scream, thud, and flailing of the arms, maybe not in that order. Meanwhile, Hawk puts his arms behind his head as he looks back at the camera.*
Mike: Now onto you, Alexandra. Might wanna turn your hearing aid up for this, and ask your grandson to translate my complex vocabulary for you. So, you’ve co-owned several companies… I guess that explains how you’ve been a champion so many times in the past. Honestly, looking at your matches, that has to be the ONLY explanation.
*Someone comes over to tell Hawk off for hogging the machine, and he sighs, stands up, and German Suplexes him onto the gym floor, before calmly returning to his seat.*
Mike: I’m sure those titles are the only ones you’ll win, though. Because you just can’t go anymore. And that brings me to what you’re best at, Calaway… you’re the best in this company at pretending you’re still in your prime. See, you’re almost 40, and yet you wrestle like someone 10 years younger than you… with arthritis. And a bum leg. And a third arm. And rods in their spine. But at least they don’t have AIDS, so you've got THAT going for you!
*He relaxes back into the seat again.*
Mike: But credit where it’s due, despite your wrestling… um… “talent”, you’re really good at pretending like you’re better than anyone else on this roster. News flash:
*He grabs, from off-camera, a megaphone, and turns it on, talking into it.*
Mike: YOU’RE NOT.
*He puts the megaphone away.*
Mike: And that’s why you needed this dark presence to come into your life and unlock your inner darkness. Because without it, you’re blander than a glass of milk in a rice factory. Because there’s only so much you can do before people realize that you’re using this “scorched Earth” thing in an attempt to try and regain some of your lost relevance. Spoiler alert: it’s not working! Oh, and while we’re on that subject…
*He adjusts in his chair.*
Mike: Scorched Earth means the destruction of everything… you mean like, your chances in the previous world title match? Your social life due to the stress of having a child? Your husband’s life? Please, feel free to correct me if I’ve missed anything.
*He smirks, looking into the camera as he stands up, walking to the front of the gym, going to the reception counter.*
Mike: And as for me? Well… I’m the best in this company, if not the WORLD, at being underestimatable. People look at me and go “What? Really? Him!?” And then I hit them with a briefcase and steal their title. Or come in second in a 10-person battle royal. Or get put in a world title match twice in one year, without ever actually being the #1 contender. Because I’m Mike Hawk, and I’m just That. Damn. Good.
*He leans on the counter, talking to the woman there.*
Mike: One Cookies N’ Cream protein shake, please.
*She goes and makes it for him, he pays.*
Mike: Thank you!
Woman: Have a nice day!
Mike: You too!
*He turns to walk out, but first turning to the camera to say a few more words.*
Mike: Oh, and Ally… Cleo… I’ll see you in the ring. Unlike JFK, this is one president who won't go down without a fight.
*He flashes a peace sign, sipping his protein shake before walking out of the gym. The camera pans out, then slowly but surely fades to black.*