Post by The Pac on Jun 5, 2013 21:06:11 GMT -5
"Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please."
"Analyze the facts. Future P.C.W. Hall of Famer. Unprecedented potential in this chosen business. Respect from the masses as well as from the suits. Most recently: an eleven match streak...What could ever go wrong for a man such as Curtis Wilkes? Becoming the wash-up. Being the forgotten phenom. Losing to the up-and-comer. Most recently...The Devil Himself Dante Daevain."
Our scene is black. Within the void of this darkness there is only a rhythmic beeping...
The blackness is suddenly taken over by the image of a man. A bed-ridden man. A man who has been brutally hospitalized. The Phantom.
The Phantom lies in a comatose state since his unfortunate accident. A white bandage wrapped around his face is a suitable substitute for his usual mask. Four different bags of medicine are hooked up to Phantom, as are two bags of blood. The ventilator that we now hear is set to seventy percent. A half-body cast adorns Phantom's lower half. Scribblings of tacos cover the cast. This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is merely only one example of what happens when The Devil Himself gets an entertaining idea.
As we view the lifelessness of The Phantom, we are suddenly graced with the presence of David the Retarded Midget - sans barbed-wire. With a Taco stuffed in either side of his mouth, David is seen climbing up onto Phantom's hospital bed and setting up a pint-sized lectern that fits almost perfectly over The Phantom's midsection. David then reaches down towards the floor to retrieve a briefcase, only to fall off the bed with a thud. David quickly recovers from his spill and regains his composure as he grabs the briefcase and hoists it onto the bed, hitting Phantom in the head. After much struggle, David manages to get himself back onto the bed. Once acclimated to the bounciness of the bed, David gets his hands back on the briefcase and begins to shuffle papers out of it left and right. Grabbing a sizable handful of crumpled papers, David sets them down onto the lectern. David then pats Phantom on his left shoulder before hopping off the bed and out of frame.
The camera that has been obviously set up begins to zoom in on The Phantom. With nothing more than the sounds of a heart monitor and a respirator, we wait.
After a minute or two of grueling monotony, There seems to be a bit of life. From one of the many monitors hooked up to The Phantom we begin to hear distinct sounds of communicative beeping. A la Captain Pike, Phantom begins to give a statement.
Phantom: *Beep. Beep. Beeeeep.*
There is a pause.
Phantom: *Beep beep beep. Beep. Beep.*
One more pause.
Phantom: *Beep. Beep beep be-beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep be-be-be-beeeeeeep. Be-be-be-beb-be-be-beeeee-beeeeeeeeeeeep.....*
The camera slowly pans backwards and we see Sir David standing on top of a stool pressing buttons on Phantom's medical monitors which are causing them to beep profusely. One of the machines gets stuck in a perpetual beep. Covering his ears, David hops down from the stool and scurries away before The Devil Himself Dante Daevain steps into the scene. Looking around and seeing no one, Dante turns to the rolling camera and give a bit of a smirk and a wink. With nothing said, Dante reaches for a handful of plugs on the wall. With one swift pull, Dante removes the plugs from their wall sockets. All we hear as the scene begins to fade out is the distinct ear-piercing sound of a flat-lined heart monitor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our next scene takes us to the great outdoors of Ponoka, Alberta, Canada. Well, as close to the outdoors as the Centennial Centre for Mental Health and Brain Injury will allow us. Turns out that is not much of the outdoors. Only a courtyard with a brook. Not much of a view, if you ask me. But hey, what do I know...I am just a hallucination inside of some guy's head. Oh yeah, speaking of that guy...here he is. Ladies and Gentlemen may I present to you Timmy Angelo. We still are not quite sure what plagues Timmy other than his very troubled past...and a bothersome vision.
Timmy sits in a lounge chair in a corner of the courtyard near the brook. Occupying his mind is a rather sizable book. Timmy and his peace are soon rudely interrupted by the vision of The Devil Himself Dante Daevain as he strolls up in Timmy's direction wearing an ensemble of an off-white silk button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, matching slacks with a gold buckled belt, and hand polished Italian leather boots. Once beside Timmy's lounge chair, Dante abruptly plops himself onto the chair. The chair does not move, but Timmy will swear that it did. A bit startled, Timmy tries his best to continue to read the book.
Dante: "What's the word, nerd?"
Timmy does not answer Dante.
Dante: "Okaaay. That's rude, dude."
There remains no answer from Timmy.
Dante: "I tell you...You are on the brim of something great, Tim!"
Nothing. Not even an eye roll. Dante lets out a small sigh...
Dante: "How now brown cow..."
Timmy quickly shuts his book and gets up from his lounge chair. Timmy walks away towards the door of the courtyard. Dante, of course, follows.
Dante: "Oh, come on Timmy! I gave you the cookie just like I said! You did not have to go and make a spectacle of things about it!"
Timmy continues on into the facility building and down the first hall to his left. The scene shifts to the interior where we see Timmy, but no Dante...but only for a few seconds. Dante suddenly appears behind Timmy once again and continues to follow him through the facility. Dante has a bit of a pitiful look on his face.
Dante: "Geeze, Timmy! Pay attention to me! I am bored!"
Dante begins to sarcastically pout as he follows Timmy around a corner. There is but another minute of silence before Timmy heads into the facility library. Once inside, Timmy makes a bee-line to the back row of tables. Trying not to draw attention to himself, though, Timmy walks slowly through the library. Following him closely, of course, is Dante. Dante looks around at the scant few people in the library.
Dante: "Good call. People just do not read enough these days. Hmm. Sad."
Timmy makes it to his table and takes a seat facing the far door. Dante takes a seat in front of Timmy and annoyingly blocks, what he perceives as, his view. Timmy leans to his right a bit to see around Dante...Dante leans to his left. Timmy shifts again as does Dante. It is a pattern. Still trying to ignore Dante, Timmy opens his book back up. Dante speaks again, only this time with a much calmer demeanor.
Dante: "Come on, Timmy. Talk to me. It's been..."
Dante checks his watch.
Dante: "...Nine hours!"
Timmy loudly shifts in his chair as he looks at his book. Dante, still being ignored, gets up from his seat and heads over to one of the many book cases. After a brief moment of searching, Dante comes back to his seat with a book of his own - War and Peace. Dante makes himself comfortable as he then begins to read aloud. It sucks being the only one able to hear the voices, doesn't it? Dante does not even make it to page four before Timmy gets up and slams his book shut, running from the library.
The scene dissolves into the room of Timmy Angelo. The room is still a bit disheveled as no one has bothered to clean up from Timmy's last episode. On the bed lay Timmy, face up and staring at the ceiling. Appearing suddenly against the wall beside the door on the far wall from Timmy is, of course, Dante. Dante has his hands in his pockets and his feet crossed at the ankles. Dante takes note of the mess that no one has cleaned.
Dante: "You know...this is kind of nice. Kind of. It's like...a men's room with a bed."
Timmy turns over to his right to face the wall and have his back to Dante. As he turns, he is surprised to find a blue teddy bear propped up against the wall facing him.
Dante: "Oh! That reminds me...thanks! So I decided to bring you a little gift. A rather special gift. Timmy, meet Mister Tiddlesworth. Mister Tiddlesworth and I go back quite a ways. We have been through a lot..death, separation, the dryer...we have done it all. Now, it is time for someone else to look after Mister Tiddlesworth. He needs companionship. He needs shelter from all of those terrible things that he has seen...."
Timmy looks into the marble eyes of the blue teddy bear with the outstretched arms and becomes strangely interested.
Dante: "He needs you, Timmy. He needs the support of someone like you who understands where he has been..."
Timmy reaches for the blue teddy bear as a tear falls from his eye...
Dante: "He is yours, Timmy."
Timmy takes the bear and holds him close to his body.
Dante: "Mister Tiddlesworth will protect you from the evil of this place, Timmy. He will hide you from the manipulations that this place tries to instill upon you."
Timmy wipes his tear away and turns back over to face Dante.
Timmy: ...manipulations?
Dante: "Manipulations."
Dante nods his head.
Dante: "They are lying to you, Timmy. About everything. Those pills you take? They only serve to keep you sick. That is the secret, Timmy. This whole place is a lie. They only need to keep you sick in order to make their money...Barbaric, I know. But it is the truth. You don't need to be in a place like this. You need to be out there in the world living your life. You are special, Timmy. I know this. I believe in you..."
With no words, Timmy just turns back over and holds the blue teddy bear close. Suddenly the pillow that Timmy lays his head on begins to growl. Timmy becomes quite startled and raises himself up to look at the pillow. Like something out of a Tim Burton movie, the pillow forms a mouth and a nasty set of sharp teeth. With ferocious nature, the pillow seems to lunge at Timmy with growls and other vicious sounds. Timmy begins to panic and shuffle to the foot of his bed. Closing his eyes, Timmy holds out the teddy bear to the pillow. The pillow returns to its pillow-y state. With a smirk, Dante gets up from the wall and walks out of Timmy's room. Before our scene fades we can still hear the voice of Dante.
Dante: "Told you."
Our scene slowly fades out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our last scene opens up inside the Sleep Train Arena in Sacremento, California. The second home of Dante Daevain and home of his long time best friend. The time of day is early afternoon. The arena is empty, void of all life save for The Devil Himself. Being so early in the week, the ring for the upcoming Premium Championship Wrestling event has not even been set up. The P.C.W. camera that is present begins to survey the empty building until it happens upon The Devil Himself Dante Daevain sitting in the front row of the first elevated section of D. Since Dante is clearly out of reach for the camera, our scene dissolves into a closer view of Dante as he relaxes in the backed chair. Positioned to the front and left of Dante, the camera gets a good shot of his 'good side'. With a smirk on his face, Dante begins to address the P.C.W. Universe.
Dante: "I have no need of gimmicks or mind games to prove a point today. My words will suffice."
Dante slowly shakes his head as he pauses briefly...
Dante: "Oh ye of such little insight. Is this really what has become of the great Curtis Wilkes? Do you really presume to know just what The Devil Himself thinks...feels? Curtis you are better than this...or so the world thought. Just because the world thinks a certain thought about you, you accept that as an absolute. I, Curtis, am not the world."
Dante gets a heartfelt look on his face.
"I believe in you, Curtis. Really, I do. I believe that you have so much before you in life that has yet to be discovered. I believe that your time in this business will, most certainly, bear more fruit. I believe...that in order to get your career back on track, it will just have to continue to spin into a downward spiral."
Dante shines a smirk on his handsome face.
"Do not misunderstand me, Curtis. Just because your current predicament has your career in a slump does not necessarily mean that I believe you to be weak. On the contrary. You have done more than your fair share in this business...things that must not go un-noticed. An eleven match streak is certainly nothing to scoff at, and neither is your certain future Hall of Fame bust. How about that champion caliber attention to detail that you possess? Or that level headed attitude of yours?"
Dante looks a bit confused for a second, checking over his words in his head...
"Oh well. I guess fifty percent is not such a bad thing in the accolades department."
Dante shrugs before chuckling to himself.
"How credulous can you be, Curtis? A man of your preceded accolades should not be making these kinds of mistakes..."
Dante holds up his right pointer finger for a second...
"Firstly, a worshipper? Hardly. You believe that just because of a moniker that I am not who I say that I am? For shame, my incredulous friend. For shame. Underestimation of one's opposition has always been a bane on society, you know. Are you familiar with the Battle of Adwa, Curtis?"
Dante leans forward in his seat with his finger linked in front of him and his arms on his knees.
"In the realm of P.C.W. you would be akin to the Italians. Advanced, seasoned, and vying for your place in the grand scheme. I, on the other hand, would be akin to the Ethiopians. Small, just getting a foot-hold into the world, and out gunned. In the instance of Saturday night, Curtis, history will not be changed. You have assumed that the encounter will be easily won. In this folly you have shown that you are not ready for the coming battle. When push comes to shove, you will be driven back into humiliation. Much like the last Rapture, Curtis, you will find defeat at the hands of the relative new blood of P.C.W...."
Dante flashes two fingers momentarily.
"Secondly, Ivan Milat? Really? You compare the likes of The Devil Himself to a rapist who murdered seven. Some stabbed, some shot - one of them post mortem, one decapitation, and some strangled and beaten..."
Dante yawns.
"How...elementary."
Dante scoffs.
"A man, with the admitted help of others, commits seven simple acts of manslaughter...I don't know. It seems a bit too...clichΓ©."
Dante shrugs his shoulders modestly.
"Now, watching a man as he falls from atop the Grand Canyon after he haphazardly loses his footing on the Skywalk..a stripper as she falls limp from an unfortunate break of the neck in the champagne room..or a man burned to death by his own hibachi grill in front of patrons in his own restaraunt..or even a man having his face blown off with a pearl handled revolver while he gives the world of wrestling his farewell in front of his ex-wife. Those are the things that people remember. Those are the impact moments of fragile life that the world will not soon forget. You will be forgotten, Curtis. You have lost touch with the people and their attention. You will fade out."
Dante sits back once again and crosses his left leg over his right.
"So what is this talk of voices, Curtis? Do you look at The Devil Himself and automatically assume that he has gone and lost his marbles? That there has to be someone else behind the wheel? No, Curtis, the voice in my head is certainly mine own. Nothing imaginary. Nothing fabricated."
"I never once claimed that I hear voices. I never once claimed that I am led by another's hand. That was you, Curtis. All you. Your imagination is certainly running rampant on you. You do not even realize it, either. How sad. If this is what gets you through each day, though, then I certainly do not want to interfere with your daydreams."
Dante shakes his head a couple of times.
"You see, Curtis, I need nothing, contrary to what you believe and make up in your own mind. My life is made simply by standing to the side and watching as individuals like yourself make fools of themselves time and time again. I gain amusement from this, Curtis."
Dante grins.
"Does that piss you off more than your shortcomings? Knowing that you are essentially a hamster in a wheel to The Devil Himself?"
Dante laughs a hearty laugh.
"You have only yourself to blame for this, Curtis. You were the one who went around and assumed things and then made up the rest so that, in your head, things made sense. Who is hearing voices now, Curtis? I am no bitch to the unseen. I am not even the unseen. I am here. I am flesh."
"What will transpire Saturday here in Sacremento will be nothing short of your continued embarrassment, Curtis. You will fight with ferocity, this I know. To paraphrase a very familiar film franchise: you will let the anger flow through you come Saturday night. None of that is going to matter, though, because you will most certainly fall short once again in getting your career back on track. You will once again seek consolation from your wife, to no avail, before finally ending up in the shower...standing there and wondering just what has gone wrong."
Dante has that confident and cold look on his face.
"You, Curtis. You have gone wrong. You have simply become the one thing that you swore to fight. Mediocrity. That is Curtis Wilkes in a nutshell. I guess the New Era might want to rethink your association after this coming debacle on Saturday night. Hell, the only reason I am associating with you is because I am being paid to do so...You have really disappointed me, Curtis. It will be a pleasure to dispose of your ilk. Do not take it personally."
Dante winks at the camera before he stands up and places his hands into his pockets. Dante turns and casually strolls away through the aisle before the scene fades out to black for the last time.
"Analyze the facts. Future P.C.W. Hall of Famer. Unprecedented potential in this chosen business. Respect from the masses as well as from the suits. Most recently: an eleven match streak...What could ever go wrong for a man such as Curtis Wilkes? Becoming the wash-up. Being the forgotten phenom. Losing to the up-and-comer. Most recently...The Devil Himself Dante Daevain."
Our scene is black. Within the void of this darkness there is only a rhythmic beeping...
The blackness is suddenly taken over by the image of a man. A bed-ridden man. A man who has been brutally hospitalized. The Phantom.
The Phantom lies in a comatose state since his unfortunate accident. A white bandage wrapped around his face is a suitable substitute for his usual mask. Four different bags of medicine are hooked up to Phantom, as are two bags of blood. The ventilator that we now hear is set to seventy percent. A half-body cast adorns Phantom's lower half. Scribblings of tacos cover the cast. This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is merely only one example of what happens when The Devil Himself gets an entertaining idea.
As we view the lifelessness of The Phantom, we are suddenly graced with the presence of David the Retarded Midget - sans barbed-wire. With a Taco stuffed in either side of his mouth, David is seen climbing up onto Phantom's hospital bed and setting up a pint-sized lectern that fits almost perfectly over The Phantom's midsection. David then reaches down towards the floor to retrieve a briefcase, only to fall off the bed with a thud. David quickly recovers from his spill and regains his composure as he grabs the briefcase and hoists it onto the bed, hitting Phantom in the head. After much struggle, David manages to get himself back onto the bed. Once acclimated to the bounciness of the bed, David gets his hands back on the briefcase and begins to shuffle papers out of it left and right. Grabbing a sizable handful of crumpled papers, David sets them down onto the lectern. David then pats Phantom on his left shoulder before hopping off the bed and out of frame.
The camera that has been obviously set up begins to zoom in on The Phantom. With nothing more than the sounds of a heart monitor and a respirator, we wait.
After a minute or two of grueling monotony, There seems to be a bit of life. From one of the many monitors hooked up to The Phantom we begin to hear distinct sounds of communicative beeping. A la Captain Pike, Phantom begins to give a statement.
Phantom: *Beep. Beep. Beeeeep.*
There is a pause.
Phantom: *Beep beep beep. Beep. Beep.*
One more pause.
Phantom: *Beep. Beep beep be-beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep be-be-be-beeeeeeep. Be-be-be-beb-be-be-beeeee-beeeeeeeeeeeep.....*
The camera slowly pans backwards and we see Sir David standing on top of a stool pressing buttons on Phantom's medical monitors which are causing them to beep profusely. One of the machines gets stuck in a perpetual beep. Covering his ears, David hops down from the stool and scurries away before The Devil Himself Dante Daevain steps into the scene. Looking around and seeing no one, Dante turns to the rolling camera and give a bit of a smirk and a wink. With nothing said, Dante reaches for a handful of plugs on the wall. With one swift pull, Dante removes the plugs from their wall sockets. All we hear as the scene begins to fade out is the distinct ear-piercing sound of a flat-lined heart monitor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our next scene takes us to the great outdoors of Ponoka, Alberta, Canada. Well, as close to the outdoors as the Centennial Centre for Mental Health and Brain Injury will allow us. Turns out that is not much of the outdoors. Only a courtyard with a brook. Not much of a view, if you ask me. But hey, what do I know...I am just a hallucination inside of some guy's head. Oh yeah, speaking of that guy...here he is. Ladies and Gentlemen may I present to you Timmy Angelo. We still are not quite sure what plagues Timmy other than his very troubled past...and a bothersome vision.
Timmy sits in a lounge chair in a corner of the courtyard near the brook. Occupying his mind is a rather sizable book. Timmy and his peace are soon rudely interrupted by the vision of The Devil Himself Dante Daevain as he strolls up in Timmy's direction wearing an ensemble of an off-white silk button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, matching slacks with a gold buckled belt, and hand polished Italian leather boots. Once beside Timmy's lounge chair, Dante abruptly plops himself onto the chair. The chair does not move, but Timmy will swear that it did. A bit startled, Timmy tries his best to continue to read the book.
Dante: "What's the word, nerd?"
Timmy does not answer Dante.
Dante: "Okaaay. That's rude, dude."
There remains no answer from Timmy.
Dante: "I tell you...You are on the brim of something great, Tim!"
Nothing. Not even an eye roll. Dante lets out a small sigh...
Dante: "How now brown cow..."
Timmy quickly shuts his book and gets up from his lounge chair. Timmy walks away towards the door of the courtyard. Dante, of course, follows.
Dante: "Oh, come on Timmy! I gave you the cookie just like I said! You did not have to go and make a spectacle of things about it!"
Timmy continues on into the facility building and down the first hall to his left. The scene shifts to the interior where we see Timmy, but no Dante...but only for a few seconds. Dante suddenly appears behind Timmy once again and continues to follow him through the facility. Dante has a bit of a pitiful look on his face.
Dante: "Geeze, Timmy! Pay attention to me! I am bored!"
Dante begins to sarcastically pout as he follows Timmy around a corner. There is but another minute of silence before Timmy heads into the facility library. Once inside, Timmy makes a bee-line to the back row of tables. Trying not to draw attention to himself, though, Timmy walks slowly through the library. Following him closely, of course, is Dante. Dante looks around at the scant few people in the library.
Dante: "Good call. People just do not read enough these days. Hmm. Sad."
Timmy makes it to his table and takes a seat facing the far door. Dante takes a seat in front of Timmy and annoyingly blocks, what he perceives as, his view. Timmy leans to his right a bit to see around Dante...Dante leans to his left. Timmy shifts again as does Dante. It is a pattern. Still trying to ignore Dante, Timmy opens his book back up. Dante speaks again, only this time with a much calmer demeanor.
Dante: "Come on, Timmy. Talk to me. It's been..."
Dante checks his watch.
Dante: "...Nine hours!"
Timmy loudly shifts in his chair as he looks at his book. Dante, still being ignored, gets up from his seat and heads over to one of the many book cases. After a brief moment of searching, Dante comes back to his seat with a book of his own - War and Peace. Dante makes himself comfortable as he then begins to read aloud. It sucks being the only one able to hear the voices, doesn't it? Dante does not even make it to page four before Timmy gets up and slams his book shut, running from the library.
The scene dissolves into the room of Timmy Angelo. The room is still a bit disheveled as no one has bothered to clean up from Timmy's last episode. On the bed lay Timmy, face up and staring at the ceiling. Appearing suddenly against the wall beside the door on the far wall from Timmy is, of course, Dante. Dante has his hands in his pockets and his feet crossed at the ankles. Dante takes note of the mess that no one has cleaned.
Dante: "You know...this is kind of nice. Kind of. It's like...a men's room with a bed."
Timmy turns over to his right to face the wall and have his back to Dante. As he turns, he is surprised to find a blue teddy bear propped up against the wall facing him.
Dante: "Oh! That reminds me...thanks! So I decided to bring you a little gift. A rather special gift. Timmy, meet Mister Tiddlesworth. Mister Tiddlesworth and I go back quite a ways. We have been through a lot..death, separation, the dryer...we have done it all. Now, it is time for someone else to look after Mister Tiddlesworth. He needs companionship. He needs shelter from all of those terrible things that he has seen...."
Timmy looks into the marble eyes of the blue teddy bear with the outstretched arms and becomes strangely interested.
Dante: "He needs you, Timmy. He needs the support of someone like you who understands where he has been..."
Timmy reaches for the blue teddy bear as a tear falls from his eye...
Dante: "He is yours, Timmy."
Timmy takes the bear and holds him close to his body.
Dante: "Mister Tiddlesworth will protect you from the evil of this place, Timmy. He will hide you from the manipulations that this place tries to instill upon you."
Timmy wipes his tear away and turns back over to face Dante.
Timmy: ...manipulations?
Dante: "Manipulations."
Dante nods his head.
Dante: "They are lying to you, Timmy. About everything. Those pills you take? They only serve to keep you sick. That is the secret, Timmy. This whole place is a lie. They only need to keep you sick in order to make their money...Barbaric, I know. But it is the truth. You don't need to be in a place like this. You need to be out there in the world living your life. You are special, Timmy. I know this. I believe in you..."
With no words, Timmy just turns back over and holds the blue teddy bear close. Suddenly the pillow that Timmy lays his head on begins to growl. Timmy becomes quite startled and raises himself up to look at the pillow. Like something out of a Tim Burton movie, the pillow forms a mouth and a nasty set of sharp teeth. With ferocious nature, the pillow seems to lunge at Timmy with growls and other vicious sounds. Timmy begins to panic and shuffle to the foot of his bed. Closing his eyes, Timmy holds out the teddy bear to the pillow. The pillow returns to its pillow-y state. With a smirk, Dante gets up from the wall and walks out of Timmy's room. Before our scene fades we can still hear the voice of Dante.
Dante: "Told you."
Our scene slowly fades out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our last scene opens up inside the Sleep Train Arena in Sacremento, California. The second home of Dante Daevain and home of his long time best friend. The time of day is early afternoon. The arena is empty, void of all life save for The Devil Himself. Being so early in the week, the ring for the upcoming Premium Championship Wrestling event has not even been set up. The P.C.W. camera that is present begins to survey the empty building until it happens upon The Devil Himself Dante Daevain sitting in the front row of the first elevated section of D. Since Dante is clearly out of reach for the camera, our scene dissolves into a closer view of Dante as he relaxes in the backed chair. Positioned to the front and left of Dante, the camera gets a good shot of his 'good side'. With a smirk on his face, Dante begins to address the P.C.W. Universe.
Dante: "I have no need of gimmicks or mind games to prove a point today. My words will suffice."
Dante slowly shakes his head as he pauses briefly...
Dante: "Oh ye of such little insight. Is this really what has become of the great Curtis Wilkes? Do you really presume to know just what The Devil Himself thinks...feels? Curtis you are better than this...or so the world thought. Just because the world thinks a certain thought about you, you accept that as an absolute. I, Curtis, am not the world."
Dante gets a heartfelt look on his face.
"I believe in you, Curtis. Really, I do. I believe that you have so much before you in life that has yet to be discovered. I believe that your time in this business will, most certainly, bear more fruit. I believe...that in order to get your career back on track, it will just have to continue to spin into a downward spiral."
Dante shines a smirk on his handsome face.
"Do not misunderstand me, Curtis. Just because your current predicament has your career in a slump does not necessarily mean that I believe you to be weak. On the contrary. You have done more than your fair share in this business...things that must not go un-noticed. An eleven match streak is certainly nothing to scoff at, and neither is your certain future Hall of Fame bust. How about that champion caliber attention to detail that you possess? Or that level headed attitude of yours?"
Dante looks a bit confused for a second, checking over his words in his head...
"Oh well. I guess fifty percent is not such a bad thing in the accolades department."
Dante shrugs before chuckling to himself.
"How credulous can you be, Curtis? A man of your preceded accolades should not be making these kinds of mistakes..."
Dante holds up his right pointer finger for a second...
"Firstly, a worshipper? Hardly. You believe that just because of a moniker that I am not who I say that I am? For shame, my incredulous friend. For shame. Underestimation of one's opposition has always been a bane on society, you know. Are you familiar with the Battle of Adwa, Curtis?"
Dante leans forward in his seat with his finger linked in front of him and his arms on his knees.
"In the realm of P.C.W. you would be akin to the Italians. Advanced, seasoned, and vying for your place in the grand scheme. I, on the other hand, would be akin to the Ethiopians. Small, just getting a foot-hold into the world, and out gunned. In the instance of Saturday night, Curtis, history will not be changed. You have assumed that the encounter will be easily won. In this folly you have shown that you are not ready for the coming battle. When push comes to shove, you will be driven back into humiliation. Much like the last Rapture, Curtis, you will find defeat at the hands of the relative new blood of P.C.W...."
Dante flashes two fingers momentarily.
"Secondly, Ivan Milat? Really? You compare the likes of The Devil Himself to a rapist who murdered seven. Some stabbed, some shot - one of them post mortem, one decapitation, and some strangled and beaten..."
Dante yawns.
"How...elementary."
Dante scoffs.
"A man, with the admitted help of others, commits seven simple acts of manslaughter...I don't know. It seems a bit too...clichΓ©."
Dante shrugs his shoulders modestly.
"Now, watching a man as he falls from atop the Grand Canyon after he haphazardly loses his footing on the Skywalk..a stripper as she falls limp from an unfortunate break of the neck in the champagne room..or a man burned to death by his own hibachi grill in front of patrons in his own restaraunt..or even a man having his face blown off with a pearl handled revolver while he gives the world of wrestling his farewell in front of his ex-wife. Those are the things that people remember. Those are the impact moments of fragile life that the world will not soon forget. You will be forgotten, Curtis. You have lost touch with the people and their attention. You will fade out."
Dante sits back once again and crosses his left leg over his right.
"So what is this talk of voices, Curtis? Do you look at The Devil Himself and automatically assume that he has gone and lost his marbles? That there has to be someone else behind the wheel? No, Curtis, the voice in my head is certainly mine own. Nothing imaginary. Nothing fabricated."
"I never once claimed that I hear voices. I never once claimed that I am led by another's hand. That was you, Curtis. All you. Your imagination is certainly running rampant on you. You do not even realize it, either. How sad. If this is what gets you through each day, though, then I certainly do not want to interfere with your daydreams."
Dante shakes his head a couple of times.
"You see, Curtis, I need nothing, contrary to what you believe and make up in your own mind. My life is made simply by standing to the side and watching as individuals like yourself make fools of themselves time and time again. I gain amusement from this, Curtis."
Dante grins.
"Does that piss you off more than your shortcomings? Knowing that you are essentially a hamster in a wheel to The Devil Himself?"
Dante laughs a hearty laugh.
"You have only yourself to blame for this, Curtis. You were the one who went around and assumed things and then made up the rest so that, in your head, things made sense. Who is hearing voices now, Curtis? I am no bitch to the unseen. I am not even the unseen. I am here. I am flesh."
"What will transpire Saturday here in Sacremento will be nothing short of your continued embarrassment, Curtis. You will fight with ferocity, this I know. To paraphrase a very familiar film franchise: you will let the anger flow through you come Saturday night. None of that is going to matter, though, because you will most certainly fall short once again in getting your career back on track. You will once again seek consolation from your wife, to no avail, before finally ending up in the shower...standing there and wondering just what has gone wrong."
Dante has that confident and cold look on his face.
"You, Curtis. You have gone wrong. You have simply become the one thing that you swore to fight. Mediocrity. That is Curtis Wilkes in a nutshell. I guess the New Era might want to rethink your association after this coming debacle on Saturday night. Hell, the only reason I am associating with you is because I am being paid to do so...You have really disappointed me, Curtis. It will be a pleasure to dispose of your ilk. Do not take it personally."
Dante winks at the camera before he stands up and places his hands into his pockets. Dante turns and casually strolls away through the aisle before the scene fades out to black for the last time.