Post by Parker on Apr 18, 2021 9:23:20 GMT -5
The man in the dark green parka is sat on a steel folding chair, facing away from the camera, looking into the screen of a large old laptop.
“One, two, three, four....four,” he says, holding up his right hand and counting up on his fingers. “Looks to me like Team Carnage is a video short of a promotional package. Someone not putting in the work? Someone not carrying their weight? Someone not going to show up on time, in shape when their team needs them?”
The four fingers being held up fold back in and the thumb extends to point down at the man. “Put me in coach, I've got your back.”
Outside Columbus, Ohio – Sunday
A battered old RV, barely big enough for a grown man to lay down flat in, chugs and sputters its way into a open space on a trailer park outside of Ohio's largest city. There is a thumb from inside. The driver's door creaks but doesn't open. More thumbing, growing in apparent force follows, accompanied by an aggravated growl until eventually the door gives way and opens with a loud creak of rusted metal grinding against itself.
“Piece of shit,” the driver grumbles as he sets his feet down into the dirt. He jabs a finger at the aged door hinges, “as soon as I can afford a can of WD40 you're in for it, you hear me?”
He looks around to see that the unusual display of anti-vehicular violence and verbal abuse has drawn some looks from the surrounding residents.
“What?” the man shouts, looking around at each of them as he slams the door shut with another loud creak, then a second time as the latch doesn't engage and the door starts to open towards him again. That at least seemed to be all that was necessary to return wandering eyes to their own business, at least, the combination of that and the muscular six foot three frame the word came from.
With unwelcome eyes averted and the initial flood of anger now draining out of him the man leaned close to the vehicle and whispered.
“I'm sorry I yelled. You know I didn't mean it. Thanks for getting us all the way here. You can have a rest for a couple of days now.” He finished by tenderly tapping the van on its flank like one might pet a horse. He then opened the side door to grab his coat before closing and locking up and walking away.
The woman at the front desk had told him the nearest bus stop wasn't for almost a mile, so it was best he get moving.
The man is sat in a dimly lit room. His back is turned to the single dull lamp with the hood of his jacket up, casting his face in shadow.
“Honestly this isn't a position I expected to find myself in. That being said, it's certainly not one I'm unhappy about now that the opportunity has arisen. That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone. I wouldn't have gone to Baltimore to lay out the strengths and weaknesses of the UGWC roster if I had any issue with seeing them catch a beating. Hell, I used to get paid to beat up someone on the roster every week, now is no different, it's just that the money flows from a different account.”
“I know what people are going to say, when my music hits and I stride out onto the ramp in the Nationwide Arena. They're going to act aghast. They're going to call me a traitor, but you see, you can't betray something that you owe no loyalty to. UGWC kicked me to the curb because I was inconvenient for them, because I didn't toe the company line. Because I pissed off the wrong one eyed, tiny dicked, bastard my life got thrown into disarray. Sure it wasn't great before but I was getting it together. I was feeling better than I had in years, I was laying the foundations of something better and all of that was stripped out from under me.”
“All that said, this isn't about revenge either. I don't have anything personal against anyone on Team UGWC, not Dave, not Donovan, not Carlson, not even Mad Hatter Montague, and hell I don't even know Angel DuMore or Atara Themis or whoever is filling out that team now. No, this isn't about revenge. This is about proving to the Coalition that I don't need them. This is about proving that they can try to sweep me under the rug all they like but I will still be there, like a nail waiting to hurt them when they try to step on me.”
“I thought I was only going to have the chance to watch from the sidelines as I enabled Team Carnage to dismantle Team UGWC piece by piece. Maybe now it seems I'll have the satisfaction of standing beside them, of leading from the front as Team Carnage sets the tone for the night. A night the Coalition will remember, as a lesson on what happens when you try to treat a lion like a cockroach.”
Columbus, Ohio - Sunday
The man didn't want to be recognised. He was looking forward to the reaction when he made his entrance and didn't want anything to spoil the surprise. Fortunately a decade of Marvel movies had taught him that there was no disguise more effective than a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. He wore a sun faded cap for C.D. Guadalajara and a two dollar pair of shades he'd picked up at the counter of a CVS. He'd thrown up the hood of his jacket too, just to be sure.
There wasn't much to do. He just liked to roam around the cities he visited for these events as long as he had the time. If he was going to travel, he may as well, you know, travel.
It was getting late though. The sun was coming down and he was increasingly aware that the last bus back towards the trailer park was leaving in less than an hour. As he set off in the direction he thought would lead him back towards the bus stop he'd gotten off at he spotted a crowd gathering outside a hotel. The man pushed on regardless, trying to gently push his way through.
“What's going on in there? Are they giving away free pizza or something?” he said flippantly.
“No, apparently a bunch of wrestlers from UGWC are staying here for Incursion,” a woman replied.
“Do you think Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third is here. He's so dreamy,” said her friend stood beside her.
“He's an absolute prick is what he is,” the man said snidely as he slid past the women and further through the crowd.
“What would you know?” the second woman called behind him.
“Just trust me,” he replied.
He was about halfway through the relatively sedate gathering when all around him came to life at once. They started surging towards the door, hotel security being forced to hold them back.
“What do you mean you still haven't gotten me a Lord's suite?” a familiar blustering voice called out, loud enough to be heard from inside.
“It's Donovan Hastings!”
“Lord Hastings! Over here!”
The hotel doors opened and Donovan Hastings emerged, flanked by Owen Peterson and surrounded by burly men.
“I've already explained, there is no such thing as a Lord's suite. You're in a King Suite, it's the best the hotel has,” said Owen, clearly exasperated.
“In what world is a king higher than a lord?” Hastings replied.
“Um, I think all of them,” said Owen.
“If that were the case I would be the King of Pain wouldn't I, not the Lord of Pain.”
“I don't know,” said Owen hesitantly, “you chose your name before we'd even met.”
“Exactly,” said Donovan triumphantly.
Owen opened his mouth to reply but seemingly thought better of it and closed it again.
In the moment the man was carried by the crowd like a row-boat on a stormy sea. He lost his footing and thought he was about to be thrown into Donovan's path but he was saved by the tree trunk arm of a burly man, held out to hold back the crowd like Moses parting the sea. Then he was behind them and as the rest of the crowd scrabbled to keep up the man swam against the tide to work his way free. Long seconds later and he was loose, in enough open air to lift his arms from his sides. He spared one last look back, “I'll show you who the king is,” he said then turned and walked on.
The rest of the journey back to the bus stop was a strange tale of happenstance and coincidence. He past the open doors of a vibrant bar and saw Dave Rydell drinking and most likely telling anyone who came into earshot how he was going to tear Team Carnage apart. The man considered going in and saying hello, but he had no use for bars any more and he expected, no more use for Dave Rydell either.
He passed Montague Cervantes drawing a small crowd with a street magic show and wondered how many of them were going to go home with the same number of watches and wallets as they had gone out with.
He passed a restaurant window where Carlson Rex was sat with an older man he didn't know. The older man was in the middle of an animated speech though he couldn't be heard through the glass, while Carlson nodded along solemnly. The man hoped Carlson had a good showing the following night but it wasn't going to be at his expense.
He may have passed Angel DuMore or Atara Themis, or both of them, but he wouldn't have noticed if he had.
Finally he reached the bus stop and headed back to the trailer park. He needed to rest. It had been a long couple of days driving to get here and twenty four hours from now he'd face his stiffest challenge in months.
The man is once again sat in the dimly lit room, his face shrouded by the shadow of his hood.
“The other factor is that I'm coming into Team Carnage as an outsider. Sebastian, Dominick, Ragdoll, Zach, you guys don't know me. All you do know about me is that I've got connections to your opponents this week. I'd forgive you for not trusting me. I wouldn't trust me in the same circumstances. If my laying out a game plan for everyone wasn't enough to assuage that distrust then I expect nothing will, but for what my words are worth I want to tell you, you can trust me. I'm no mole, no saboteur. I am not here to undermine you, I am here to guide you. No-one wants to see you succeed more than I do.”
“I don't know any of you well either, but from what little I've gathered I feel like you're good people, smart people. The kind of people I would be happy to go to war with. I'm excited to get to do that now from the front line and not watching from the sidelines.”
“So let's do this. You guys have my back, I'll have yours and together we'll cut UGWC down to size.”
“One, two, three, four....four,” he says, holding up his right hand and counting up on his fingers. “Looks to me like Team Carnage is a video short of a promotional package. Someone not putting in the work? Someone not carrying their weight? Someone not going to show up on time, in shape when their team needs them?”
The four fingers being held up fold back in and the thumb extends to point down at the man. “Put me in coach, I've got your back.”
Outside Columbus, Ohio – Sunday
A battered old RV, barely big enough for a grown man to lay down flat in, chugs and sputters its way into a open space on a trailer park outside of Ohio's largest city. There is a thumb from inside. The driver's door creaks but doesn't open. More thumbing, growing in apparent force follows, accompanied by an aggravated growl until eventually the door gives way and opens with a loud creak of rusted metal grinding against itself.
“Piece of shit,” the driver grumbles as he sets his feet down into the dirt. He jabs a finger at the aged door hinges, “as soon as I can afford a can of WD40 you're in for it, you hear me?”
He looks around to see that the unusual display of anti-vehicular violence and verbal abuse has drawn some looks from the surrounding residents.
“What?” the man shouts, looking around at each of them as he slams the door shut with another loud creak, then a second time as the latch doesn't engage and the door starts to open towards him again. That at least seemed to be all that was necessary to return wandering eyes to their own business, at least, the combination of that and the muscular six foot three frame the word came from.
With unwelcome eyes averted and the initial flood of anger now draining out of him the man leaned close to the vehicle and whispered.
“I'm sorry I yelled. You know I didn't mean it. Thanks for getting us all the way here. You can have a rest for a couple of days now.” He finished by tenderly tapping the van on its flank like one might pet a horse. He then opened the side door to grab his coat before closing and locking up and walking away.
The woman at the front desk had told him the nearest bus stop wasn't for almost a mile, so it was best he get moving.
The man is sat in a dimly lit room. His back is turned to the single dull lamp with the hood of his jacket up, casting his face in shadow.
“Honestly this isn't a position I expected to find myself in. That being said, it's certainly not one I'm unhappy about now that the opportunity has arisen. That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone. I wouldn't have gone to Baltimore to lay out the strengths and weaknesses of the UGWC roster if I had any issue with seeing them catch a beating. Hell, I used to get paid to beat up someone on the roster every week, now is no different, it's just that the money flows from a different account.”
“I know what people are going to say, when my music hits and I stride out onto the ramp in the Nationwide Arena. They're going to act aghast. They're going to call me a traitor, but you see, you can't betray something that you owe no loyalty to. UGWC kicked me to the curb because I was inconvenient for them, because I didn't toe the company line. Because I pissed off the wrong one eyed, tiny dicked, bastard my life got thrown into disarray. Sure it wasn't great before but I was getting it together. I was feeling better than I had in years, I was laying the foundations of something better and all of that was stripped out from under me.”
“All that said, this isn't about revenge either. I don't have anything personal against anyone on Team UGWC, not Dave, not Donovan, not Carlson, not even Mad Hatter Montague, and hell I don't even know Angel DuMore or Atara Themis or whoever is filling out that team now. No, this isn't about revenge. This is about proving to the Coalition that I don't need them. This is about proving that they can try to sweep me under the rug all they like but I will still be there, like a nail waiting to hurt them when they try to step on me.”
“I thought I was only going to have the chance to watch from the sidelines as I enabled Team Carnage to dismantle Team UGWC piece by piece. Maybe now it seems I'll have the satisfaction of standing beside them, of leading from the front as Team Carnage sets the tone for the night. A night the Coalition will remember, as a lesson on what happens when you try to treat a lion like a cockroach.”
Columbus, Ohio - Sunday
The man didn't want to be recognised. He was looking forward to the reaction when he made his entrance and didn't want anything to spoil the surprise. Fortunately a decade of Marvel movies had taught him that there was no disguise more effective than a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. He wore a sun faded cap for C.D. Guadalajara and a two dollar pair of shades he'd picked up at the counter of a CVS. He'd thrown up the hood of his jacket too, just to be sure.
There wasn't much to do. He just liked to roam around the cities he visited for these events as long as he had the time. If he was going to travel, he may as well, you know, travel.
It was getting late though. The sun was coming down and he was increasingly aware that the last bus back towards the trailer park was leaving in less than an hour. As he set off in the direction he thought would lead him back towards the bus stop he'd gotten off at he spotted a crowd gathering outside a hotel. The man pushed on regardless, trying to gently push his way through.
“What's going on in there? Are they giving away free pizza or something?” he said flippantly.
“No, apparently a bunch of wrestlers from UGWC are staying here for Incursion,” a woman replied.
“Do you think Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third is here. He's so dreamy,” said her friend stood beside her.
“He's an absolute prick is what he is,” the man said snidely as he slid past the women and further through the crowd.
“What would you know?” the second woman called behind him.
“Just trust me,” he replied.
He was about halfway through the relatively sedate gathering when all around him came to life at once. They started surging towards the door, hotel security being forced to hold them back.
“What do you mean you still haven't gotten me a Lord's suite?” a familiar blustering voice called out, loud enough to be heard from inside.
“It's Donovan Hastings!”
“Lord Hastings! Over here!”
The hotel doors opened and Donovan Hastings emerged, flanked by Owen Peterson and surrounded by burly men.
“I've already explained, there is no such thing as a Lord's suite. You're in a King Suite, it's the best the hotel has,” said Owen, clearly exasperated.
“In what world is a king higher than a lord?” Hastings replied.
“Um, I think all of them,” said Owen.
“If that were the case I would be the King of Pain wouldn't I, not the Lord of Pain.”
“I don't know,” said Owen hesitantly, “you chose your name before we'd even met.”
“Exactly,” said Donovan triumphantly.
Owen opened his mouth to reply but seemingly thought better of it and closed it again.
In the moment the man was carried by the crowd like a row-boat on a stormy sea. He lost his footing and thought he was about to be thrown into Donovan's path but he was saved by the tree trunk arm of a burly man, held out to hold back the crowd like Moses parting the sea. Then he was behind them and as the rest of the crowd scrabbled to keep up the man swam against the tide to work his way free. Long seconds later and he was loose, in enough open air to lift his arms from his sides. He spared one last look back, “I'll show you who the king is,” he said then turned and walked on.
The rest of the journey back to the bus stop was a strange tale of happenstance and coincidence. He past the open doors of a vibrant bar and saw Dave Rydell drinking and most likely telling anyone who came into earshot how he was going to tear Team Carnage apart. The man considered going in and saying hello, but he had no use for bars any more and he expected, no more use for Dave Rydell either.
He passed Montague Cervantes drawing a small crowd with a street magic show and wondered how many of them were going to go home with the same number of watches and wallets as they had gone out with.
He passed a restaurant window where Carlson Rex was sat with an older man he didn't know. The older man was in the middle of an animated speech though he couldn't be heard through the glass, while Carlson nodded along solemnly. The man hoped Carlson had a good showing the following night but it wasn't going to be at his expense.
He may have passed Angel DuMore or Atara Themis, or both of them, but he wouldn't have noticed if he had.
Finally he reached the bus stop and headed back to the trailer park. He needed to rest. It had been a long couple of days driving to get here and twenty four hours from now he'd face his stiffest challenge in months.
The man is once again sat in the dimly lit room, his face shrouded by the shadow of his hood.
“The other factor is that I'm coming into Team Carnage as an outsider. Sebastian, Dominick, Ragdoll, Zach, you guys don't know me. All you do know about me is that I've got connections to your opponents this week. I'd forgive you for not trusting me. I wouldn't trust me in the same circumstances. If my laying out a game plan for everyone wasn't enough to assuage that distrust then I expect nothing will, but for what my words are worth I want to tell you, you can trust me. I'm no mole, no saboteur. I am not here to undermine you, I am here to guide you. No-one wants to see you succeed more than I do.”
“I don't know any of you well either, but from what little I've gathered I feel like you're good people, smart people. The kind of people I would be happy to go to war with. I'm excited to get to do that now from the front line and not watching from the sidelines.”
“So let's do this. You guys have my back, I'll have yours and together we'll cut UGWC down to size.”