Jaclyn pushes her way backstage, her body glistening with sweat but her clown makeup still completely intact on her face. Despite her heavy breathing, she smiles wide.
'I’m the champion!' she exclaims.
'No you’re not.'
Jacky stops. A stagehand who had been packing cable looks over her smugly and she glares into the stage hands eyes. He stares back for a moment before bulging his eyes slightly at her, turning back to twisting a cable into a loop on the ground.
She lands her hands on her hips, a death stare locked on the back of his neck before she is shoved aside by an official making his way out to the ring.
Turning her attention to the official, she reaches for her waistband only to find her trusty magnum is not with her. She huffs slightly and then storms to the locker rooms, sticking her tongue out at the stagehand who has yet to turn back towards her.
'Not the champion,' she snarls to herself.
'How am I not the champion?!' she growls in a huff, tilting a bottle of El Toro into a glass. She fills it to the top and then begins to rapidly drain the tequila from its temporary home. She then picks up a lime, crunching into it like an apple, chewing for a moment before spitting it disgusted into the trash can.
You only won one match.
She looks up to Ed who is sitting behind a desk across from the couch. Sitting is a relative term for the body that’s been dressed in a suit and tie that dangles off of its form and jammed into the seat. It’s empty eyes stare at the ceiling.
'One match more than you!' she retorts loudly. I'm dead.
'Yea, well I'm...I'm...' she stammers to herself for a moment, clearly fumfering. Not the champion?
'Ugh, you can be so...'
Once again she is at a lost for words. Dead?
She glares at the corpse again and refills her glass, draining it just as quickly before once again biting through the lime, her face contorting with disgust.
'Why do people like this?' Tequila?
'No the lime. It’s so bitter.' You’re not supposed to eat it like that.
'What?' Jacky's face lights up and her eyes widen in surprise.
You have to....you know what, you’re nailing it kid.
She plasters a smug smile across her face, and begins to top back off the glass.
Is there even a need for the glass at this point?
Jacky turns her nose up as she lifts the glass into the air, one pinky up, her thick nasally accent slurred slightly, ‘I gotta be classy now that I’m the champ!’ You’re not the champion!
'Says who?' she says, her face locked with the side of Ed. A few minutes pass with no response and she sighs, draining the rest of the bottle into the glass.
Ariel and Waffles stand on opposite corners of Jacky's shoulders, eyes locked as Ariel approaches the center of her neck. Beneath them, Jaclyn can be heard snoring. She shakes her head in shame as she looks down at the sleeping clown.
Ariel: Why do you encourage her?
Waffles: For laughs.
Ariel: You have a different view of humor.
She looks piteously down at the drool puddle that is forming beside the broken glass and empty bottle of tequila. Waffles paces slowly for a moment on top of the back of the unconscious jester. He turns on his heel, bowling shirt swishing slightly as he smiles at his companion.
Waffles: Want to hear another joke?
He reaches for his pocket. Ariel holds up a hand to halt the demon.
Ariel: I’ll pass.
She flutters her wings and moves to the shoulder opposite of Waffles once more, back towards him. He looks down at the coin in his hand, slightly dejected. Waffles paces along the comatose Jaclyns shoulder, before turning and kicking the side of her head. She mutters something about pizza on a bagel before returning to her snoring.
Follow the signs.
Jacky flips the note over. Blank. An envelope was casually slid under her door as she slept that contained a thousand dollars in hundreds and a note with three words, 'Follow the Signs'.
'What signs?' she sighs, reaching for the bottle, which much like that question turns up empty. Clearly this is a case but for what? She was getting paid, by who she didn't know. For what, she also did not know.
'No matter!' she says with sudden resolve.
Jacky grabs her large jacket and tosses it across her shoulders, hands landing onto hips
'I've got a case to solve!'
There is a long pause as Jacky is alone with the exception of the decaying body.
'Signs....Signs...Signs....'
Jacky has a pair of glasses on, a clearly fake mustache, and a trench coat despite the springtime heat. She stands on the corner looking around her. There were a few billboards, but nothing that seemed to be calling her name. A poster for a missing cat. Her trigger finger itches slightly as she reaches for the banner.
Focus Jacky!
She begins to scan the area. Pedestrians are making wide berth of her as she continues to look around before she does a double take, eye landing on Stop sign right in front of her.
'Aha!' she points it.
'Too easy' she thinks to herself, 'They want me to stop looking. Why didn't I think of-'
She gets cut off as a man shoulders past her, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and as he crosses, the electronic red hand changes to a man made of green pixel crossing the street.
She smiles.
'Eureka' she turns on her heel, beginning to make her way in his direction, 'A sign!'
She sticks both hands stuffed into the pockets as she begins slink after the stranger on the street with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He peers nervously over his shoulder before crossing the road.
Jaclyn has seen this evasive maneuver before and knows precisely what to do: much like the infamous chicken, she too crosses the road.
The two continue the cat and mouse game for a few blocks. The man turning to look around occasionally and Jacky meanwhile doing her best to blend in with the environment. He turns a corner and just as Jaclyn attempts to copy the move, she comes face to face with the man holding the duffel.
He is somehow shorter than she is, but much more broad in the shoulder. He has scarring along his cheek as though his face was introduced to fire and then had a bad relationship. His eyes glare up at her, one hand pushing the bag behind him slightly.
'Why are you following me?' he shouts.
'As if,' she thinks, turning and looking around innocently as she whistles. No way she's gonna give up this killer disguise. She looks down at a watch that is not there.
He shakes his head and turns, pace increasing to a jog. Jacky, hands in pockets follows at pace.
'He's got all the moves,' the glue holding the mustache to her face giving way some as it becomes askew on her lip.
As he cuts a corner he slams right into a police officer, coffee shooting out of his hand and the duffle bag dropping to the cement. The man hesitates as he reaches for the bag before stopping to consider the cop and the clown and he sprints away.
Jaclyn tries to pursue but is caught by the arm.
'Jaclyn Pierrot, what the hell are you doing chasing people?' he looks her over, not believing what she's decided to wear, 'And what the hell are you wearing?'
'I'm undercover!' she responds defensively. Her eyes dart to the the man who is moving at a full sprint down the sidewalk.
'Jaclyn, you cannot just chase people on the street. What are you following him for?'
Jacky stops and considers. That's a fantastic question. She shrugs her shoulder and pulls her glasses from her face.
'A hunch?'
The officer sighs, brushing more of the coffee from his uniform, releasing her arm. He lifts the bag which emanates the sound of clinking glass. The two stop and look down at the bag as Officer Markel slowly unzips the duffel to reveal what looks like a dozen or so glass bottles and some sort of homemade mechanical device.
'Jesus Jacky...'
Officer Markel lifts his radio to send in his address, requesting a bomb unit before slowly placing the bag down. Jacky walks over to the bag, lifts a bottle and untwists it.
'This looks like gasoline,' she exclaims, lifting the jar up and without hesitation takes a sip which she then spits out, drops of gasoline drizzling from her face, 'yep, Gasoline!'
The cop grabs her by the elbow and pulls her away from the bag just in time. A beeping rapidly begins and the two lock eyes before diving away, as the pavement opens up into flames which scorch the side of the concrete building.
Jacklyn sits up, covered in smoot and takes another drag from the jar
'Jacky, that's gas!' exclaims the cop, still laying prone on his back.
Jacky looks down at the bottle, cheeks full of gas, her eyes growing wide and then she spits it out again.
'I guess you were right Jacky. I can't say your a hell of a detective but maybe you'll have better luck as a wrestler.' he looks over incredulously at her, 'Jacky, what the fuck?'
Jacky is one again drinking from the jar. She looks down again and shrugs to Markel.
'Ugh,' she looks distraught for a moment then turns the glass back once more, 'now I got a taste for it.'
The scene has become a circus, clowns and all, as detectives and reporters encircle the pair. Police are working diligently to remove people from the scene. Jacky sits on the edge of the cruiser as a woman and a camera approach.
Deja: We've caught up with the Ragdoll here outside Kick'n Chicken where she has been aiding local authorities in their investigation of a serial arsonist. Jacky how are you feeling?
'Fantastic!' exclaims Jaclyn, nearly finished jar of gasoline in her hand, her brow is covered in perspiration and soot. What's left of the fake mustache dangles loosely from her lip and she is a bit too loud for someone who has not been drinking gasoline.
One of the detectives briefly enters the frame and there is a brief struggle over the jar. He manages to wrest it from her grasp and she looks longingly after it.
Deja: So I hear in addition to being a new talent here at Carnage Wrestling, you also moonlight as a private investigator.
'That's right! Jaclyn Pierrot, Great Clown Detective!'
Deja: Quite impressive. So Jaclyn, last Monday was your first match. You made quick work of Garbage Fence. How do you think you'll fair against someone like Hawthorne, after all he's a big guy?
'He can be as big as he wants to be, he doesn't have these guns.'
Jacky pulls the oversized magnum from her waistband, pointing it at the camera who then drops down, the frame shifting.
Deja reaches out and pushes the gun down while the camera refocuses on the scene.
Deja: Whoa, easy.
'It is!'' she levels the gun at the camera once more, drawing back on the lever only for Deja to reach over and pull the gun from the surprised Jaclyns hand.
Deja: Jacky, it's not just Hawthorne you need to worry about, this week will be twice as difficult. Your scheduled for a three way matchup and you'll also have Zach Taylor to contend with.
'Okay?' says Jacky, clearly intoxicated and not following along with the reporter. Deja pulls back a bit as she catches a wiff of the gasoline still lingering on Jaclyns breath before turning back to the camera, shifting further from the clown.
Deja: Jacky, do you have any last thing to say to your opponents?
'Yea!' Jacky squeals excitedly, somehow her revolver once again in her hand, as she aims it at the camera to the surprise of Deja, 'Welcome to the gun show!!'
She fires and the camera goes black and the sound of a heavy device can be heard crashing to the ground. Multiple officers can be heard saying 'Shots fired!' and there is a scuffle as Jacky gets tackled to the ground, guns drawn around her.
Deja: Goddamnit Jacky!
Jacky sits on the curb hands cuffed behind her back. Officer Merkel walks over to the seated detective.
'You're lucky you didn't kill him Jacky! What were you thinking?'
'They fined me 3000 dollars for a stinking camera. Me, the champ!'
'I'm not much of a wrestling fan, but I do know you're not the champion,' he drops to a knee beside her, unclipping the restraints from her wrists.
Jacklyn ignores him and drops an elbow on her knee before propping her cheek atop her palm. There is a ringing noise near the pair and they turn simultaneously to the bush where Jacky fishes it loose. It looks like an old Razor cellular telephone that has somehow miraculously survived the explosion. Her and the cop lock eyes and he reaches for it before she flips the charred device open.
'You've got Jaclyn Pierrot, the great Clown Detective,' she begins, turning a shoulder to the cop as he desperately attempts to grab the device.
'Uhuh,' she stands and nods her head and begins to pace as she listens, Office Merkel in pursuit, still trying to get the phone from the clown.
'I see.'
She stops pacing.
'You wouldn't dare!'
Just as the officer gets his hand near the cell, Jacky hangs up the phone.
'Well, this case just got a whole lot hotter.'
'You've got a lead?' the officer says, once again reaching the remnants of the phone.
'Nope,' she says, casually sliding the phone into his hand, 'He just set a building on fire downtown.'
As she turns and walks towards his cruiser, his jaw agape he manages to stammer angrily, 'What the fuck, Jacky??' before rushing to join her in the vehicle.
Last Edit: Mar 28, 2021 22:24:14 GMT -5 by ragdoll
Post by "Godly" Ken Davison on Mar 28, 2021 22:59:58 GMT -5
Dorian Hawkhurst sitting and looking very un-Dorianlike. He sits behind a fancy looking table, with a perfect looking white table cloth over another, also pristine looking red table cloth. There are a couple of different glasses, gold utensils and a white tapered candle lit in the center. Dorian himself has his hair well groomed and tied back. Perhaps the most shocking thing we see is his attire. Dorian is wearing a midnight blue dinner jacket, white button down shirt, and a matching tie.
“Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man.”
Dorian takes a deep breath, trying to settle himself down. He nervously looks at his phone, waiting for something. Next, he checks his watch, as though his phone is lying to him about what time it is. Dorian then looks up, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning as his ex-girlfriend Morgan enters the room. She is dressed elegantly wearing a scarlet dress and matching shoes. Her honey-blonde hair practically bounces as she walks over to the table. She looks like a walking Pantene commercial. Dorian stands up, and pulls her chair out.
“Ever the Gentlemen."
Morgan smiles warmly at Dorian before sitting. Dorian smiles back, a smile we haven’t seen since before Mia’s disappearance. Dorian returns to his seat next to Dorian and turns to Morgan.
“So, Dorian, how is everything?”
“Okay, I suppose.”
Everything was not okay. In fact, everything was the polar opposite of okay. Dorian and Morgan had separated, with Morgan moving out and Dorian was far from putting the pieces back together, especially with Chloe at home.
“Just okay?”
“I don’t know what to say. You know I’ve never been good with words.”
“You’ve never had a problem with me.”
“It’s different. I’m just not whole without you.”
Morgan gently smiles.
“I thought you said you weren’t good with words.”
“I’m not. I talk without thinking and act just as quick.”
“So, talk to me.”
“I just don’t know. I’m not clean. I can’t pretend to be. But, I’ve cut back. I just… I don’t know. I need to find a way to handle my shit better.”
“How much?”
“Not a lot. Usually a beer or two when Chloe goes to bed. I have to be careful. I get tested every show I do to make sure I’m not showing up wasted. It didn’t go well last time.”
“Speaking of Chloe, how is she?”
“You want the honest truth or a happy lie?”
“Would you ever lie to me?”
“Of course not.”
“The honest truth, then.”
“I am lost. I have been for months. You know what you saw before you left. I can’t make heads or tails out of anything. I’m a horrible father.”
Morgan cuts Dorian off.
“No. You’re not. You are one of the best fathers I know.”
“Really? I brought Chloe into my world. Now, she’s sleeping at night wearing her Ataxia match. She tosses and turns clutching Lynk at night.”
“Lynk? Is that some kind of Zelda toy?”
“I wish. It’s a frying pan. It used to be Mia’s. And you know how she looked up to Mia.”
Dorian thought that would be something Morgan should remember, but now was not the time to argue.
“Yeah.”
“So, there’s all that. Then, like the whipped cream topping on a fucked up sundae, it turns out Zephyr IS Mia.”
“You’re shitting me. Please, tell me you are kidding.”
“Nope. At least..." Dorian pauses awkwardly. “I think she is. We all had this sit down a while back and, I just don’t know. I pretended I did, but… shit if I know. I just can’t deal, Morgan. I’m trying to stay dry, clean, whatever word you want to use. I just can’t let go. I wish I had the spine in me that Chloe has. She is such a strong young woman. She sticks to her convictions. She stands up for her friends. Hell, she showed up to support Autumn Raven a few years back. You believe that shit? She showed up because she felt Autumn needed a friend. She did it because she felt it was the right thing to do. The kid’s a fuckin’ rock star and I’m just a poor, weak bastard who has to drown his sorrows with the three wise men: Jim, Jack and Johnny.”
A waiter walks over to the table. Dorian, looks up, and mutters.
“Just water for me.”
“And for the lady?”
“I’ll have the same, please.”
“As you wish.”
The waiter walks off and Morgan reaches across the table and takes Dorian’s hand. Dorian looks up and smiles meekly.
“Listen, Dorian. You’re a wolf. You fight for your dreams and your family’s needs. Whoever tries to mess with your family has already lost. Everyone sees you as a role model.”
“That sounds like someone stole it from somewhere.”
“I saw it on Facebook. But, it’s true, Dorian.”
“I suppose.”
“How about this? How about we just have a nice dinner, talk about us, and go from there?”
“I want you to come home. Not now, of course. Well, yeah, I want you home now. But, I want you to at least consider it and go from there. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just miss you. I want to make this right. I’m going back to meetings. I’m going to see a counselor. If there is anything else I can do, please, PLEASE tell me.”
“For now, let’s just have a nice meal and try not to get ourselves too worked up. You’ve got a lot on your plate. If I wasn’t willing to try to make this work, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Fair enough.” Dorian sighs. A million different scenarios are running through his head… none of them good. “Are we going to be okay?"
“I don’t know, Dorian. But, I’m willing to try if you do. It sounds like you are doing a lot, and I appreciate that.”
The waiter walks over with the pair’s water, placing the glasses down on the table. You can see the uncertainty in Dorian’s body language.
We segue to some time later. Dorian is now standing with his daughter, Chloe, standing outside of a nondescript playground. At least Doran is standing. Chloe is on the playground running from the slide to the monkey bars to this weird spinning contraption that kids hold onto until they either let go or are violently flung off. She does so with all the energy and fervor of the Tasmanian Devil.
“Everyone in this world has problems. Some people have problems with money. Some people have problems with booze like I do. Some people have problems like depression or PTSD. This week, at Chaos, Zack Tyler has a problem. At Chaos, Ragdoll has a problem. That problem is “Demon of Sobriety” Dorian Hawkhurst and “The Minidemon” Chloe Hawkhurst.”
“Firstly, I'd like to… apologize for the incorrect information I just gave you. Zack Tyler is a part of that “Left Hand” faction, or as I call them, “The Institute Without Talent.” His problem is that he is misguided. He thinks that he is something he is not. I took talking to my old friend Ken Davison for me to realize this. Now, I’m not going to sit here and pretend we spent any time talking about Zack Tyler. We were talking about how I’ve been struggling… about how I’ve fallen off the wagon. I’m not proud of it, but I have to own up to it.”
Dorian lets out a deep sigh, looking behind him to make sure that Chloe isn’t within earshot.
“There was a quote by some dude, Jim Rohn I think his name was. That quote said “Life is not designed to give us what we need; life is designed to give us what we deserve.” Now, Ken was talking about me and my problems, but man, Zack, I cannot help but think that it applies to you.”
“The last time Ii saw you flapping your gums, Zack, you were going to great lengths to tear down my boy, Zach van Owen. How’d that go for you? Here’s a hint for you, “The Forsaken Demon” Dorian Hawkhurst is about to dole out more of the same. Is there something wrong with being special? Short answer: yes. But why is that? Being special is… special! Now, before we go any further, let me explain what I mean by “being special.” Being special is about thinking that what applies to others doesn’t apply to you, thinking that you’re an exception to the rules of life that others have to follow. It has nothing to do with having healthy self-esteem or thinking highly of oneself; in fact, it’s all about ego and self-deception. I’ve seen that in each and every single one of you “Left Hand” bastards that I have run across. You think you’re special. You’re not. You all believe yourselves to be better than you really are and right now, it is up to me to bring you crashing back down to earth… again.”
“I refuse to acknowledge you as anything other than what you are, man. You are a leech, a parasite, you and all your friends. You need to decide who you're loyal to and you need to do it right quick. I’m not going to say we don’t know where your loyalties lie. What I am saying is are you loyal to the “Left Hand” or yourself?”
“I have the best things in life. I’ve got my family. I have the greatest job in the world. I don’t have a stable of coworkers who all work towards the goals of others. I have true friends and I have people to fight for. I fight for them because I love them, not because there is some guy in charge who tells me I have to.”
Dorian pauses for a moment, before carrying on.
“Then we have this ‘Ragdoll’ running around looking like an Insane Clown Posse fuckdoll. Talk about someone who thinks they are special with her whole “Look at me. Look at me. Shock me. Shock me. Shock me with that deviant behavior,” bullshit. I'm not going to blow any smoke up your ass. I do this from time to time when I feel my opponents are deserving of my respect. This is one of those times. So, Ragdoll, I’m going to be honest with you.”
“Going into this match I was having trouble finding my muse, my motivation. But as I was talking to a couple of close friends I came to an epiphany. It was as though in the middle of a hurricane the clouds parted and I saw the light break through the clouds. It was as though the light cast it's being directly on me like something you'd see out of some cheesy Christian movie. But it wasn't literal light. It was an enlightenment."
The wind blows causing some spring leaves to fall above.
"Now, I won't sit here and pretend that I wouldn't rather be in a better position. I won't pretend that I wouldn’t rather be facing Succubitch or Incubitch. Hell, I think I would rather face any member of SSRI instead of having to face you. However, I am going to make the best of this situation. I am not going to sit back and let this opportunity pass me by.”
Dorian cracks his neck which creates a very loud and audible crunching sound. From the expression on his face, this serves the only help him relax
“I am not a man who backs down from any challenge. I realize that is exactly what this match is. There is nothing to gain from this match aside from respect from our peers and from each other. This match is simply a matter of pride. Again, I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not. If nothing else, I am a very, and I mean VERY, proud man. I realize the opportunities that winning this match could open up. I will go to any lengths I deem necessary to win this match. I would be pissed if you didn’t do the same.”
“Above all else, you both need to be put down to make a point. I will show The Institute what they are up against. The ends justify the means. So, come to me, Ragdoll. Come to me and give me exactly what I am asking for. I can’t expect Zack Tyler to do that. Not after his constant failures here. I want you to hurt me. I want you to make me feel the kind of pain that makes me feel alive. I want people to feel my pain, simply by looking at me. I want the people watching me suffer from the mere sight of my pain. Then, I want them to see me overcome, both you and the pain. I’ll take whatever beating you can give me with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. Then, I shall take all of that and I will overcome, because that’s what the “Demon of Sobriety” does. I’ve done it before and at Chaos 108, I will do it again.”
Dorian stares defiantly at the camera as it fades to black.
Before we begin, let’s go back to Chaos and look at the last match each man in this Triple Threat Match had.
{Carnage Wrestling : Chaos 107 (Replay)}
Ragdoll vs. Garbage Fence
Ragdoll wins her match after an unseen low blow and a stunner (to show the referee that a move was done) but the damage was already done.
Lord Raab vs. Zack Tyler
Two men with one similarity face off and in the end, Raab wins by submission.
{Carnage Wrestling : Chaos 106 (Replay)}
Dorian Hawkhurst & Zach Van Owen vs. Garbage Fence & Jason Lmoa
Zach Van Owen covers Garbage Fence for the win.
We saw that Ragdoll, she won by any means if it was a clean win or not, she got the job done and won her match. Zack, he took a beating and then when he did fight back, he was already too weak. Now we could go into why he took the beating but that’s for later. Then we get to the tag match where Dorian was in the match but he wasn’t the one that got the win for his team. So he let someone else get the win because he couldn’t do it himself.
So what does that tell you about my two opponents? Ragdoll will break the rules to get the win and Dorian Hawkhurst, he just wants to be on the side of who wins instead of actually getting his hands dirty. That’s just a start but we’ll get to them more in a little bit. Right now, let’s get back to someone who’s not in this match, Lord Raab, because I know you want to know what that’s all about. Well, let’s just say that you’ll find out when everyone else does. But let’s get to the Carnage Arena and what this match is about and that’s to determine who the contender is for the Chaos Championship.
This isn’t the first time that Zack has been on the heels of this title. He keeps getting closer and closer but something just keeps happening. Maybe it’s time to fold and wait for a new hand or play the cards he’s been dealt and see what the next hand is...or...maybe it’s time to show exactly what Zack has been doing and that’s lying in wait until the right moment. I’m thinking it’s the latter, so let’s see what he has to say. Yeah, that’s right, it’s time for a trip to the arena and backstage where Zack is waiting.
{Carnage Wrestling : Chaos 108}
Considering what’s on the line, things were completely different this time when cameras entered the locker room. The room was completely dark aside from Red floor lights that ran up the wall. They were spread apart so it looked like Red columns on the wall. On the floor as you entered the room was a large Pentagram drawn on the floor in Red paint. On each point of the star were candles burning. In the middle of the Pentagram was a figure standing wearing a Black and silk hooded robe. . As the camera made their way around to the front of Zack to see his face, his eyes were closed and his hands were resting on his knees with his fingers together as if he was meditating.
Without opening his eyes, the light on the camera turned on as he was about to record. Zack spoke up asking him to “dim your light”. With a few clicks, the light dimmed and as the Red light on the camera began, a few seconds later, Zack spoke.
“In the beginning was my journey toward this prestigious prize but it took the wilderness to prepare me for what I thought I had already been ready for. In times past, it wasn’t until that darkness consumed me that I realized just why I am. Some call it character development but I call it an epiphany. If it be HIS will for me to consume this title, then so be it. But if it be HIS will to have me give this title a fighting competitor, then so be that as well. Just know that this match, no man shall walk away the same as he entered. No man will leave unharmed, unmarred or psychologically the same as before. No!
You dangle a carrot in front of a donkey to lead them in the way they should go. See, your goal is that carrot and you, well, you are the donkey. The difference between me and you is that I’m the man sitting on the donkey holding the stick and dictating which way you will go. This may look like a game of cat and mouse, but you think you’re the cat as to say that you’re the bigger of us because you hold a title? Well, that title is the cheese in which we as mice are drawn towards. The difference though is not all mice are the same. We may be the same species, in this case, we are all competitors. But how we go about obtaining what we want is different.
See, these matches are set up so that the champion is at a disadvantage whether you see it or not. It doesn’t matter should I pin or submit the champion or the other challenger, all that matters is that at the end of the match, I stand with my hand raised and I promise you at the end of this match…(he snickers) I promise you I will. Because like the cat, I’m not going to say I have Nine lives because this is a multiple time that I have strived for this title. No, I’m like the cat because just like in this match, I have the opportunity to stand back and watch and study each of you. And when the time is right, that’s when I could make my move. I’m not saying I would or I wouldn’t, that’s for you to find out when that moment happens. Or I could be like a cat on his Ninth life and just throw everything out the window and go into this match full force and take down everyone with me to come out of the pile of broken bones with the title. You’ll just have to find out for yourself because what’s more dangerous about a man who doesn’t have anything? It’s that he’ll do anything to get what he wants...and I’m a man who doesn’t have anything and well, you, you have what I want”.
Zack snickers to the camera with a sinister smirk as the camera fades to a Black screen.