Post by Smith Jones on Jun 15, 2013 0:25:04 GMT -5
Fade up on a shot of the arena bowl at a house show not far from Rio Rancho, New Mexico. The crowd is still buzzing from whatever match is just getting out of the ring when all of the arena lights go stark white. The PremiumTron is also plain white. There is no music, only the murmurs of the crowd as they await the man they know they’re about to see. The tron goes black. A large white ‘X’ cracks the black PremiumTron and then it fades to a fuzzy image. What is that? Waves? Bed sheets? Clouds! Clouds? Is this Smith Jones’ new entrance video?
As the staccato beat of ‘Sail’ by Awolnation continues to blast the house with sound, Smith Jones appears on stage wearing a gray T-shirt that says ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’ on the front of it in black letters with a large white ‘X’ overtop of the whole thing. Smith sports a cocky grin. He strides confidently down to ringside and stops halfway down the ramp. He looks at the fans on his left and sees a slovenly group of unwashed slobs who think that wearing a Syn T-shirt makes them World Champion. Stupid fucking fans. He looks at the fans on his right and sees an old lady screaming what must be her very last screams at her age. He squints at her and takes a step closer. She’s gonna have a heart attack at this rate! He laughs in her face and uses his index finger to draw an ‘X’ across his chest. Jones makes his way to ringside and mounts the steps. He wipes his feet respectfully on the ring apron and takes centre to a round of booooooooooooos that quickly dissolve into a solid chant of ‘Train is gonna kill you! Train is gonna kill you! Train is gonna kill you! Train is gonna kill you!’ Smith looks out over the crowd and takes in the raucous atmosphere. He smiles in the face of their hatred; he basks in the heat of their rage. He stands tall in the glow of his spotlight. Smith slowly scans with his eyes to the lens of the main camera. He raises his white microphone to his lips and he speaks.
Smith: None of you can imagine what it feels like to face a challenge such as this, to know that my future will include, with great certainty, a bloody and debilitating list of injuries during the single most ludicrous match I have ever been a part of!! This match from the far reaches of the mind of Nightrain will cause both of us great pain, suffering, and anguish – and the cannibalistic crowd will leap from their seats and scream out for more!!! Bloodthirsty lowlifes without the decency to see the disgraceful hunger in themselves, the thirst they have for violence, for destruction, for blood!!!!
The crowd cheers at the idea of Smith Jones bleeding all over the place.
Smith: Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to hear me screaming in agony like a child with his hand crushed in behind the bathroom door!!! You’d love it if your returning hero, Nightrain, would rip me limb from limb and strew my innards all over the Santa Ana Star Center this Saturday Night, wouldn’t you ravenous fucks??!?!!!!!
Crowd: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!
Smith: Well, FUCK YOU!!!!
He leaps out of the ring and gets into people’s individual faces.
Smith: Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! You’re just plain disgusting! Fuck you and your filthy girlfriend. Anyone else smell baking bread? Fuck you and you and you and each and every one of you who wants to see this horrific match happen to Smith Jones!!!!! You suck and I hate you all. If I could come to each of your individual homes and dip all of your toothbrushes in the toilet, I would do it! I’m the guy that did that to you. I’m the guy that spat in your hamburger today. I’m the guy that intentionally sneezed on your salad. I played hockey with your doughnuts in the back earlier today and I tried the underwear on then I and put it back on the rack. I didn’t wash my hands after using the bathroom and then I shook your hand at that meeting last week. I’m the one who always wipes snot on the walls in front of the urinals. I told the boss when you took that extra long lunch break the other day. I shoved your kid on the playground and made them cry. I called you fat or ugly behind your back. I let the door slam in your face when I clearly saw you were carrying a lot of stuff. I fucked your wife. I killed your dog. I turned your putrid human life into the steaming nine-coiler of shit that it is today!!!!!! If only you had the balls to get in my face and tell me how much you hate me. If only you could be like your hero, Nightrain, and come out here and intimidate the mean mean man. If only you could stand in that ring with that goddam fucking asshole, Smith Jones, for just fifteen seconds and tell me to my face in front of the world how much I absolutely SUCK!!!!!
Jones sits on the ring steps and thinks for a long minute. He then returns to full consciousness and says…
Smith: Maybe you can. Maybe you will. Fifteen Seconds of Fame is back, baby!
The people seem confused about this. Some have no idea what Fifteen Seconds of Fame means and others know that without the Broadcast Title, it has no meaning. Does it? They stare blankly at him. He remains seated on the steel ring steps and leans casually against the ring post.
Smith: This Saturday night in Rio Rancho, New Mexico, I will pluck one lucky fan from the crowd and bring that person into the centre of this ring. Once that person has wiped his or her feet on the apron and entered the ring, I will hand over this white microphone…
He stops mid sentence and steps up to a young woman with pale skin and piercing blue eyes. He leans in close and stares her down.
Smith: …I will hand you this white microphone and let you say whatever the hell you wanna say right to the face of Smith Jones.
Now the crowd is becoming vocal again. They talk amongst themselves as Jones pulls a new thought out of the air. He stands and climbs into the ring.
Smith: Train. This fucking match… I half thought you were joking when you pitched it. A Barbed Wire Steel Cage Massacre with a twist, as you put it. An Ambulance Match follows immediately after the cage match. So, after spending damned near forty-five minutes dragging each other’s flesh across the barbs and grating each other’s faces on the walls of the steel cage, we will then climb out of the ungodly structure and continue to beat the living shit out of one another until one of us (ie: Nightrain) is completely unable to function. At that point, the mostly dead competitor will be tossed into the back of an ambulance and driven to the nearest medical facility or morgue, whichever ends up being more applicable. That’s how the great Smith Jones is going to spend his Slamathon. Seriously? When I gave you full match stipulation control, I was expecting you to choose a Submission Match or maybe a Best 2 Out Of 3 Falls Match. How about a Falls Count Anywhere Match? That is, true story, my personal favourite match to fight in! Any one of those matches and many more would have been more suitable to honour the traditional sounding name of PCW’s upcoming pay-per-view, Slamathon! But no, sir, not you. You chose this fuckin’ monstrosity that just has the interns pissed off that they have to come out here and wrap the ring ropes with barbed wire.
Jones stands in the ring looking at the entrance ramp. He gets impatient.
Smith: INTERNS!!!! That was the cue line!!! I said the interns are 'pissed that they have to come out here and wrap the ring ropes with barbed wire'!!!!!
Suddenly, a ragtag team of young interns run out from the back wheeling a large spool of razor wire to the ring. Smith stands mid-ring and watches as they wrap the ring ropes before us in real time. It takes them a minute or two to get the job done. He waves them off and he stares at his newly decorated environment. He then slowly looks up.
The steel cage begins to lower from the rafters above as Jones watches it come down with a look of resignation on his face. He waits as the ring crew arrives and fastens the cage to the ring. They leave. Smith stands alone in the middle of a caged wrestling ring. He moves closer to the barbed wire and even reaches out to gingerly touch one of the sharp barbs. He recoils his finger and sucks on his fingertip with a wince. He gets angry with himself for his own fear and grunts into camera.
Smith: Nightrain is the very reason The New Era is needed here in PCW. This match, as I have said before, is an abomination to the very thing I came into this company to do. I came here to be the best fucking WRESTLER in the biz today!!! I came to prove myself as an athletic threat and win a championship or two to prove that I can WRESTLE better than anyone else out there or back there!!!!!!! I did not come to Premium Championship WRESTLING to be a stunt performer. I’m not a Foley fan. I’m not a shock jockey. I’m not a hack!!! I’m Smith Jones and I’m going to put an end to matches like the one I will be competing in at Slamathon IV. Sometimes to destroy the enemy you have to go into their backyard and fuck up their shit!!!! That’s how I see this, Train. That’s what’s happening here. The fact of the matter is that I don’t know what the hell you were smoking when you dreamt up this madness, but I don’t like it one bit! And believe me, man, it’s not because I don’t think I can win this match. Know this, son: I can win this match! And I will win it. And all of those people out there under the stark white lights who often choose to doubt me will be able to clearly see that I am indeed capable of winning this kind of match, but that doesn’t mean I condone it. I’m better than this and you ALL know it!!!!!!!!!!
Crowd: Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!
Smith: You all know it and it sickens you to the core! So, you attach yourself to people like Nightrain who barge into my limelight and try to make a name for themselves by tweeting mean things to me. Hurtful, scary things that sometimes make it difficult for me to sleep at night.
He closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself somewhere else. He sometimes does this thing in his head, he’d kill me if I…
Standing on the moon. He closes his eyes and he imagines that he is standing alone on the moon looking up at Earth with his toes in the warm sand. It’s an odd thing, this. He feels the warm solar winds across his face and admires the beauty of our home world in the distance. Here on the moon, alone, he feels almost at peace. There is silence.
Smith opens his eyes expecting to look up and see Earth from afar. Instead he is jolted back to reality by the menacing cage around him. He is instantly back in that place of terror and anger. He grits his teeth.
Smith: Every time I think about this… construct that binds me, I find it so hard to shake that feeling. You know the one. That feeling of being surrounded by a set of circumstances that are completely out of your control. Trapped inside a life that is happening around you, powerless to have more than just a minuscule effect on the environment that has come to envelope you. Everything around you feels like a barb or a razor set to lacerate your flesh and spill your blood all over the ground. It becomes more and more difficult to breathe and your chest grows tighter and tighter. All the while, your tormentor, the one responsible for the cage that contains you, attacks you and slams your head into the cage and your face into the barbed wire repeatedly. Sounds a little bit like Hell to me. Life has a way of putting us through Hell from time to time. You wake up and face day in and day out of epic failures and broken dreams only to march through the day with your practiced faux visage covering your dejected soul and hiding your fear, sadness, anger, and defeat from everyone around you. Your tormentor is relentless and vicious and he will never, ever stop beating you down and forcing you to eat the dirt he stands on. And that's when it happens; that's when you snap. And all of a sudden, the massive framework that has been making your life feel so small becomes the framework you use to climb out of the pit of adversity and despair. And when the moment comes, you look your tormentor in the eye and you tell him 'no more!!!!' This is the moment you've been praying for since the day you fell victim to the steel prison that keeps you from getting to where you want to go. Isn't it always the same way? After all of the hoping, praying, begging for some higher power to save you from the darkness that surrounds you, the only one who ever had the power to save you all along was you!
Jones drops to his knees and stares up at the cage around him. He is emotionless.
Smith: Nightrain. Slamathon Four will not be as much fun for you as you think it’s going to be. You laugh at me because I’m a little bit uncomfortable with the situation. You think it’s funny that I don’t want to do this. Fucking hilarious that I’m not into this match at all!!! The mistake you make is that you underestimate my ability to change my game and adjust to the opponent in front of me. I am a master at seeing what’s coming my way and making sure that I am well-prepared for the attacker that threatens to stagger my swagger. This cage is nothing more than yet another obstacle on my way to the top of PCW. The announce team said recently on Rapture that I have a long way to go towards being World Champ. Hn. Maybe they’re right about that.
He ponders the thought long and hard.
Smith: Meh. Maybe they’re wrong. Either way, no one can deny the value in having someone like me on the roster. I am in no way afraid of anyone taking me out or taking my spot. I’m the only me they’ve got in this company. I don’t see where they’ll ever find another. I am the most dangerous man in PCW right now. I hurt people. Nobody walks out of a Smith Jones match without a few physical souvenirs. I’ve got a lot planned for you at Slamathon, Train. And you’d better be ready for the fact that when I get backed into a corner, I fight. And when I get hurt, I go into kill mode. This enclosed space is going to be like a pressure cooker and shit is gonna blow!!!!!! And it’s not gonna be black backpacks at ringside that bring the house down – it’s gonna be ME and my devastating finisher known worldwide as the Point of Controversy!!!!!! When I hit you with my patented Backstabber focused on the neck, they’ll have to cut the cage wall open with the Jaws of Life to get you out of the ring and into that ambulance. Ding, ding, ding! Your winner is… Shit, perhaps I’m being a little arrogant. I mean, Nightrain did pick the match type. He is walking into his own environment and doing something he’s probably done a million times before! Surely, Train has the advantage. And yet… come the fuck on! You know how this is going to end. You can see into the future about as well as I can on this one. Train is gonna kill me, Chantal? Fuck that noise! This Train is going out of service. The fun and games are long since over. I have a voracious appetite for success in this business and I will succeed one match at a time.
Smith digs for inner strength and stands from his kneeling position. He stares down the barrel of the main camera through the mesh of the steel cage. He looks like a trapped beast.
Smith: Get ready to forget everything you ever thought you knew about Barbed Wire Steel Cage Massacre Ambulance Matches! I’m about to bring a touch of wrestling to this barbaric bout. I will outclass and simply outWRESTLE him on a basic level. And when the heat turns up and shit starts to get real, I will get real too! Despite the recent future, I have never felt so powerful! I’m a force in this company. I’m a legend in the making. I’m a god. I don’t even have to ripple the water anymore. Water sees me coming and it ripples itself! You wanna drag me down into Hell so badly, Nightrain? You should have been more careful what you wished for. When one lucky fan gets to step into the ring with me on Saturday night, they will surely speak of the way you’re going to beat me up and make me cry and whatever other über-creative quips the moronic masses can come up with. These people are not fans of mine. But those same fans are terrified for your well-being, and with good reason. I am looking to injure you out of the game and prove a point to those who think they can put one over on the mean mean man!!!! You have no shot at beating me this weekend, but I think it’s adorable that you’re going to try. These people are going to fill those seats to watch us bleed and bleed we will. By the time that final bell rings they’ll be wishing they could unremember the sadistic scene.
He becomes eerily calm.
Smith: Nightrain, this match will not be for the weak of heart. Don’t bother coming if you don’t think you can hang. I kill dreams for a living and to me your entire career is just another dream.
Fade to black.
[/center]As the staccato beat of ‘Sail’ by Awolnation continues to blast the house with sound, Smith Jones appears on stage wearing a gray T-shirt that says ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’ on the front of it in black letters with a large white ‘X’ overtop of the whole thing. Smith sports a cocky grin. He strides confidently down to ringside and stops halfway down the ramp. He looks at the fans on his left and sees a slovenly group of unwashed slobs who think that wearing a Syn T-shirt makes them World Champion. Stupid fucking fans. He looks at the fans on his right and sees an old lady screaming what must be her very last screams at her age. He squints at her and takes a step closer. She’s gonna have a heart attack at this rate! He laughs in her face and uses his index finger to draw an ‘X’ across his chest. Jones makes his way to ringside and mounts the steps. He wipes his feet respectfully on the ring apron and takes centre to a round of booooooooooooos that quickly dissolve into a solid chant of ‘Train is gonna kill you! Train is gonna kill you! Train is gonna kill you! Train is gonna kill you!’ Smith looks out over the crowd and takes in the raucous atmosphere. He smiles in the face of their hatred; he basks in the heat of their rage. He stands tall in the glow of his spotlight. Smith slowly scans with his eyes to the lens of the main camera. He raises his white microphone to his lips and he speaks.
Smith: None of you can imagine what it feels like to face a challenge such as this, to know that my future will include, with great certainty, a bloody and debilitating list of injuries during the single most ludicrous match I have ever been a part of!! This match from the far reaches of the mind of Nightrain will cause both of us great pain, suffering, and anguish – and the cannibalistic crowd will leap from their seats and scream out for more!!! Bloodthirsty lowlifes without the decency to see the disgraceful hunger in themselves, the thirst they have for violence, for destruction, for blood!!!!
The crowd cheers at the idea of Smith Jones bleeding all over the place.
Smith: Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to hear me screaming in agony like a child with his hand crushed in behind the bathroom door!!! You’d love it if your returning hero, Nightrain, would rip me limb from limb and strew my innards all over the Santa Ana Star Center this Saturday Night, wouldn’t you ravenous fucks??!?!!!!!
Crowd: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!
Smith: Well, FUCK YOU!!!!
He leaps out of the ring and gets into people’s individual faces.
Smith: Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! You’re just plain disgusting! Fuck you and your filthy girlfriend. Anyone else smell baking bread? Fuck you and you and you and each and every one of you who wants to see this horrific match happen to Smith Jones!!!!! You suck and I hate you all. If I could come to each of your individual homes and dip all of your toothbrushes in the toilet, I would do it! I’m the guy that did that to you. I’m the guy that spat in your hamburger today. I’m the guy that intentionally sneezed on your salad. I played hockey with your doughnuts in the back earlier today and I tried the underwear on then I and put it back on the rack. I didn’t wash my hands after using the bathroom and then I shook your hand at that meeting last week. I’m the one who always wipes snot on the walls in front of the urinals. I told the boss when you took that extra long lunch break the other day. I shoved your kid on the playground and made them cry. I called you fat or ugly behind your back. I let the door slam in your face when I clearly saw you were carrying a lot of stuff. I fucked your wife. I killed your dog. I turned your putrid human life into the steaming nine-coiler of shit that it is today!!!!!! If only you had the balls to get in my face and tell me how much you hate me. If only you could be like your hero, Nightrain, and come out here and intimidate the mean mean man. If only you could stand in that ring with that goddam fucking asshole, Smith Jones, for just fifteen seconds and tell me to my face in front of the world how much I absolutely SUCK!!!!!
Jones sits on the ring steps and thinks for a long minute. He then returns to full consciousness and says…
Smith: Maybe you can. Maybe you will. Fifteen Seconds of Fame is back, baby!
The people seem confused about this. Some have no idea what Fifteen Seconds of Fame means and others know that without the Broadcast Title, it has no meaning. Does it? They stare blankly at him. He remains seated on the steel ring steps and leans casually against the ring post.
Smith: This Saturday night in Rio Rancho, New Mexico, I will pluck one lucky fan from the crowd and bring that person into the centre of this ring. Once that person has wiped his or her feet on the apron and entered the ring, I will hand over this white microphone…
He stops mid sentence and steps up to a young woman with pale skin and piercing blue eyes. He leans in close and stares her down.
Smith: …I will hand you this white microphone and let you say whatever the hell you wanna say right to the face of Smith Jones.
Now the crowd is becoming vocal again. They talk amongst themselves as Jones pulls a new thought out of the air. He stands and climbs into the ring.
Smith: Train. This fucking match… I half thought you were joking when you pitched it. A Barbed Wire Steel Cage Massacre with a twist, as you put it. An Ambulance Match follows immediately after the cage match. So, after spending damned near forty-five minutes dragging each other’s flesh across the barbs and grating each other’s faces on the walls of the steel cage, we will then climb out of the ungodly structure and continue to beat the living shit out of one another until one of us (ie: Nightrain) is completely unable to function. At that point, the mostly dead competitor will be tossed into the back of an ambulance and driven to the nearest medical facility or morgue, whichever ends up being more applicable. That’s how the great Smith Jones is going to spend his Slamathon. Seriously? When I gave you full match stipulation control, I was expecting you to choose a Submission Match or maybe a Best 2 Out Of 3 Falls Match. How about a Falls Count Anywhere Match? That is, true story, my personal favourite match to fight in! Any one of those matches and many more would have been more suitable to honour the traditional sounding name of PCW’s upcoming pay-per-view, Slamathon! But no, sir, not you. You chose this fuckin’ monstrosity that just has the interns pissed off that they have to come out here and wrap the ring ropes with barbed wire.
Jones stands in the ring looking at the entrance ramp. He gets impatient.
Smith: INTERNS!!!! That was the cue line!!! I said the interns are 'pissed that they have to come out here and wrap the ring ropes with barbed wire'!!!!!
Suddenly, a ragtag team of young interns run out from the back wheeling a large spool of razor wire to the ring. Smith stands mid-ring and watches as they wrap the ring ropes before us in real time. It takes them a minute or two to get the job done. He waves them off and he stares at his newly decorated environment. He then slowly looks up.
The steel cage begins to lower from the rafters above as Jones watches it come down with a look of resignation on his face. He waits as the ring crew arrives and fastens the cage to the ring. They leave. Smith stands alone in the middle of a caged wrestling ring. He moves closer to the barbed wire and even reaches out to gingerly touch one of the sharp barbs. He recoils his finger and sucks on his fingertip with a wince. He gets angry with himself for his own fear and grunts into camera.
Smith: Nightrain is the very reason The New Era is needed here in PCW. This match, as I have said before, is an abomination to the very thing I came into this company to do. I came here to be the best fucking WRESTLER in the biz today!!! I came to prove myself as an athletic threat and win a championship or two to prove that I can WRESTLE better than anyone else out there or back there!!!!!!! I did not come to Premium Championship WRESTLING to be a stunt performer. I’m not a Foley fan. I’m not a shock jockey. I’m not a hack!!! I’m Smith Jones and I’m going to put an end to matches like the one I will be competing in at Slamathon IV. Sometimes to destroy the enemy you have to go into their backyard and fuck up their shit!!!! That’s how I see this, Train. That’s what’s happening here. The fact of the matter is that I don’t know what the hell you were smoking when you dreamt up this madness, but I don’t like it one bit! And believe me, man, it’s not because I don’t think I can win this match. Know this, son: I can win this match! And I will win it. And all of those people out there under the stark white lights who often choose to doubt me will be able to clearly see that I am indeed capable of winning this kind of match, but that doesn’t mean I condone it. I’m better than this and you ALL know it!!!!!!!!!!
Crowd: Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!
Smith: You all know it and it sickens you to the core! So, you attach yourself to people like Nightrain who barge into my limelight and try to make a name for themselves by tweeting mean things to me. Hurtful, scary things that sometimes make it difficult for me to sleep at night.
He closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself somewhere else. He sometimes does this thing in his head, he’d kill me if I…
Standing on the moon. He closes his eyes and he imagines that he is standing alone on the moon looking up at Earth with his toes in the warm sand. It’s an odd thing, this. He feels the warm solar winds across his face and admires the beauty of our home world in the distance. Here on the moon, alone, he feels almost at peace. There is silence.
Smith opens his eyes expecting to look up and see Earth from afar. Instead he is jolted back to reality by the menacing cage around him. He is instantly back in that place of terror and anger. He grits his teeth.
Smith: Every time I think about this… construct that binds me, I find it so hard to shake that feeling. You know the one. That feeling of being surrounded by a set of circumstances that are completely out of your control. Trapped inside a life that is happening around you, powerless to have more than just a minuscule effect on the environment that has come to envelope you. Everything around you feels like a barb or a razor set to lacerate your flesh and spill your blood all over the ground. It becomes more and more difficult to breathe and your chest grows tighter and tighter. All the while, your tormentor, the one responsible for the cage that contains you, attacks you and slams your head into the cage and your face into the barbed wire repeatedly. Sounds a little bit like Hell to me. Life has a way of putting us through Hell from time to time. You wake up and face day in and day out of epic failures and broken dreams only to march through the day with your practiced faux visage covering your dejected soul and hiding your fear, sadness, anger, and defeat from everyone around you. Your tormentor is relentless and vicious and he will never, ever stop beating you down and forcing you to eat the dirt he stands on. And that's when it happens; that's when you snap. And all of a sudden, the massive framework that has been making your life feel so small becomes the framework you use to climb out of the pit of adversity and despair. And when the moment comes, you look your tormentor in the eye and you tell him 'no more!!!!' This is the moment you've been praying for since the day you fell victim to the steel prison that keeps you from getting to where you want to go. Isn't it always the same way? After all of the hoping, praying, begging for some higher power to save you from the darkness that surrounds you, the only one who ever had the power to save you all along was you!
Jones drops to his knees and stares up at the cage around him. He is emotionless.
Smith: Nightrain. Slamathon Four will not be as much fun for you as you think it’s going to be. You laugh at me because I’m a little bit uncomfortable with the situation. You think it’s funny that I don’t want to do this. Fucking hilarious that I’m not into this match at all!!! The mistake you make is that you underestimate my ability to change my game and adjust to the opponent in front of me. I am a master at seeing what’s coming my way and making sure that I am well-prepared for the attacker that threatens to stagger my swagger. This cage is nothing more than yet another obstacle on my way to the top of PCW. The announce team said recently on Rapture that I have a long way to go towards being World Champ. Hn. Maybe they’re right about that.
He ponders the thought long and hard.
Smith: Meh. Maybe they’re wrong. Either way, no one can deny the value in having someone like me on the roster. I am in no way afraid of anyone taking me out or taking my spot. I’m the only me they’ve got in this company. I don’t see where they’ll ever find another. I am the most dangerous man in PCW right now. I hurt people. Nobody walks out of a Smith Jones match without a few physical souvenirs. I’ve got a lot planned for you at Slamathon, Train. And you’d better be ready for the fact that when I get backed into a corner, I fight. And when I get hurt, I go into kill mode. This enclosed space is going to be like a pressure cooker and shit is gonna blow!!!!!! And it’s not gonna be black backpacks at ringside that bring the house down – it’s gonna be ME and my devastating finisher known worldwide as the Point of Controversy!!!!!! When I hit you with my patented Backstabber focused on the neck, they’ll have to cut the cage wall open with the Jaws of Life to get you out of the ring and into that ambulance. Ding, ding, ding! Your winner is… Shit, perhaps I’m being a little arrogant. I mean, Nightrain did pick the match type. He is walking into his own environment and doing something he’s probably done a million times before! Surely, Train has the advantage. And yet… come the fuck on! You know how this is going to end. You can see into the future about as well as I can on this one. Train is gonna kill me, Chantal? Fuck that noise! This Train is going out of service. The fun and games are long since over. I have a voracious appetite for success in this business and I will succeed one match at a time.
Smith digs for inner strength and stands from his kneeling position. He stares down the barrel of the main camera through the mesh of the steel cage. He looks like a trapped beast.
Smith: Get ready to forget everything you ever thought you knew about Barbed Wire Steel Cage Massacre Ambulance Matches! I’m about to bring a touch of wrestling to this barbaric bout. I will outclass and simply outWRESTLE him on a basic level. And when the heat turns up and shit starts to get real, I will get real too! Despite the recent future, I have never felt so powerful! I’m a force in this company. I’m a legend in the making. I’m a god. I don’t even have to ripple the water anymore. Water sees me coming and it ripples itself! You wanna drag me down into Hell so badly, Nightrain? You should have been more careful what you wished for. When one lucky fan gets to step into the ring with me on Saturday night, they will surely speak of the way you’re going to beat me up and make me cry and whatever other über-creative quips the moronic masses can come up with. These people are not fans of mine. But those same fans are terrified for your well-being, and with good reason. I am looking to injure you out of the game and prove a point to those who think they can put one over on the mean mean man!!!! You have no shot at beating me this weekend, but I think it’s adorable that you’re going to try. These people are going to fill those seats to watch us bleed and bleed we will. By the time that final bell rings they’ll be wishing they could unremember the sadistic scene.
He becomes eerily calm.
Smith: Nightrain, this match will not be for the weak of heart. Don’t bother coming if you don’t think you can hang. I kill dreams for a living and to me your entire career is just another dream.
Fade to black.
