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Post by Mesterio Raine on Apr 23, 2013 4:36:03 GMT -5
January 16th 2013
A figure stands in front of a statue. He has the same size and proportions as your average man, but there is a different sense to his body language, one of sadness, of smallness. He stands in the wind, looking past the bronze statue of a woman, over to a lake about 100 yards from where he stands, his hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, the hood up, buffering his face from the wind and keeping it hidden, a long black rag hangs from his back pocket. The wind blowing hard, obscures most the audio but dies down long enough to catch what one assumes is the end of his conversation with the statue.
"... It's no substitution for you, but.... it'll just have to do."
He shoves his hands in his pockets a little deeper and digs at the ground with his right foot, loosening a rock. He stoops and picks it up.
"You lost, stranger?"
A voice comes from off screen. A man limps into view, a black man, leaning on a cane that looks to be fashioned from one of the trees that surround this peaceful mesa. The figure doesn't turn, just pulls something from his pocket and puts it to his lips, then reaches back into the same pocket and grabs a lighter, a moment later, whatever the man might be smoking is lit, the wind sending its smoke curling into the late evening air.
"Oh, it's just you. Not often you come out to see her these days."
The black man leans on his cane and raises his beaten brow to the statue and the dying sun illuminates his face. In another life fans might have recognized this face as a former WWA superstar, fans of WWA Japan still probably do, but for the sake of those not hip, his name is Kurt Griffin, but please, feel delicious to call him GRIFF. He produces a satchel of tobacco (Bugler, baby!) and proceeds to roll two cigarettes as he talks with his worldly boss.
"That's because she's not here, Griff. She's at the bottom of that lake."
Griff: ”Yes, yes, but yet here you are talking to her like you used to.”
The camera focuses on the figure and the statue. It's not tall, maybe five foot nine, but the woman it is made after appears to be gorgeous, long hair flows down to the middle of her back, a wicked smile crosses her face, her body fit, her eyes almost alive. The mystery figure is only a few inches taller than her, but is almost as stoic as she is.
"And did you’re... God... come and tell you to disturb me?"
Griff: ”No, he knew you said all you could say.”
"..."
Griff: ”She's in heaven, you know.”
"No. No she's not."
Griff: ”Now M-“
"I'm not a fool, Griff. She's was a catholic. Suicide is a sin, a damnable one at that."
Griff: ”So is smoking weed, and drinking, and pill popping, funny you would focus on her-“
"And you focus on mine. It's the circle of life."
There is an awkward pause. Almost a stalemate.
Griff: ”How're that woman of yours?”
"Good she’s tying up some loose ends in London. How's the kids?"
Griff: ”Fine, just fine. Enjoying school. She hasn't had a mother for years now. Not much of a father either, but she's turned out just fine. Has her first boyfriend. Don't tell Anton.”
"He already knows."
Griff: ”Jessica?”
"Yep."
Griff: Woman can't keep a secret...”
"Does it get easier?"
Griff: ”What?”
"Not really having a family, does it... does it get any better than this?"
Griff: ”Not if you keep dragging yourself out here every time you have a bad day”.
"I'm not having a bad day. Good day, actually. Got a job."
Griff: ”Another speaking engagement? Wonderful, who with? Autism speaks?”
The figure takes the rag and tosses it to Griff, who unfurls it, revealing it not to be a rag but a Hells Fire vest..
Griff:” ...What's with the odd capitalization?”
"No clue."
Griff: ”You serious about it?”
"Jessica's on her way back here from hammering out the contract."
Griff: ”Won't Bathory be pleased to see her brother."
"The way things ended last time we spoke, I doubt it."
Griff says nothing but nods knowingly. He looks at the vest for a long moment then balls it up and tosses it on the ground.
Griff: ”Bah. It's fool's errand. It's not going to bring your mother back.”
"I know."
Griff: ”It's not going to prove anything, for God's sake, you're not James Caine, people have forgotten about you.”
"I know."
Griff: ”So what you're just going to walk out there, maybe do a rolling stone interview, and expect it to be late 2000 all over again? Times have changed, people have changed, and the fans have changed.”
"I know."
Griff: ”The why do this? Why do this fool's errand, this suicide mission? You know how it'll end, with you coming back a broken man who can barely take care of his woman, and after all it took just to get her back... why on His benevolent green earth would you go and do something like this?”
The man lifts what's he's smoking, and deftly spins it through his fingers from thumb to pinkie and back once, lost in thought.
You get the idea he's smiling.
"It's like you said, Griff. The people out there have changed, sure. Me? Sure the circumstances are different. Sure the crew might have a few new faces, but me? I'm the same as I ever was."
He leans back and heaves the rock as hard as possible, and it flies off screen. He pinches what he's smoking between his index and thumb, inhales deeply one last time and then drops it into the hole where the rock once was, smooshing it out with his muddy toe of his Vans.
Griff: ”I hope you're right.”
"Doubting Thomas? When did you get here?"
Griff (angrily): ”If you're going to be blasphemous, take your shirt and leave.”
The figure steps towards the statue, and, for a moment, as the sun hovers just over the horizon, the statue glows as if the female form is a living being. Her hair the type of blonde steaks go crazy trying to match with dyes, her spine straight, her feet set, her eyes twinkling a blue as pure as the middle of the Indian Ocean, and her lips going from smirk to beatific full faced smile that is both warm and loving. The figure raises his hand and slowly moves his thumb across the forehead, as if he's brushing away a stray strand, then he leans forward and the bottom half of his face appears from behind the hoody. A soul patch and what looks like a day of missed shaving appear as he, with almost unnatural delicacy, kisses the forehead of the statue of his dead mother.
Far off if the distance, something rock like lands in the lake, causing a splash.
The figure steps back. Griff hands him a cigarette, and the man hands him his lighter. They puff for a moment.
"Keep the vest."
Griff: ”Pardon?”
"I said keep the shirt. I have another one at home that's much more fitting."
Griff can't help but smile.
Griff: ”Ah, of course.”
A young man with a shaved head in a white t-shirt and khakis enters.
"Sir?"
”"Ah, Cam. There you are. This is Griff, he's the caretaker here."
Cam: ”It's... gorgeous.”
Griff: ”Well the Lord giveth.”
Cam: ”Um.. riiiiight. They're asking for you at the house sir, Ms. Maloni's back from-“
"Ah yes. The dance of the contract, a tango, I believe. Griff."
Griff: ”Boss.”
The figure pats his friend and sage advisor on the shoulder. And then walks past the young interloper- standing straight as a rod- off screen The two minor characters stand there for a moment on either side of the statue before Griff breaks the tableau by moving to where his boss was standing and digging into the dirt.
Cam: ”What he said.. about her, ahem, "suicide"... She didn't..”
Griff: ”Some things, Cam, even He won't tell me.”
He stands up straight again, holding the remains of his friend's joint.
Griff: ”Some addictions.... you just can't break.”
Fade
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Present Day
The scene comes in to the shot from the inside of a car driving down the highway in the early morning hours. The hand in the shot reaches down and turns up the radio...
Voice: “You are listening to Martin Morning Radio here on St. Louis’s number one sports talk radio, 590AM, The Fan! We now take you back into the studio to Martin Kilcoyne, Maurice Drummond, and Rich Gould!”
Martin Kilcoyne :“Thank you Tracy, great job as usual waking up the male libido in all of our listeners. I’m willing to bet that most of them are wishing they could drive with no hands, but please guys…wait until you get to the office. They put doors on those stalls for a reason. No need to have your hands slipping off the wheel and taking out a fellow rat race rider.”
Rich Gould : “That was actually kind of disturbing Martin.”
Maurice Drummond : “Yeah, especially with all the time we all joke around about that you spend in those stalls.”
Rich Gould : “Okay, now that’s an image I did not need in my head.”
Tracy : “Mine either! You guys are bad!”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Well fans, normally this time of the year we are either talking about how amazing, or how amazingly bad your loveable Redbirds are doing, or we are starting to speculate on just what the Rams might do this off season to solidify that defense…”
Maurice Drummond : “Or severe lack of…”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Exactly. But we have somewhat of a nice little distraction from the normality around here. Virginia are fortunate enough to be playing Home Town to Pheonix Wrestling Inc. this week as Erik Dafoe brings his amazing wrestling experience to RIchmond's great city.”
Rich Gould : “You know Martin, there was a time when Virginia was a major hub for wrestling action with the greats like BoBo Brazil, The Bruiser, The Crusher, Baron Von Rasche, and many others of the like, coming through here on a weekly basis. But with the massive industry it has become, there really aren’t too many local companies or brands anymore, so Richmond, like all the other great cities in the country, have to depend on television, and the occasional house show to really get their fill. And from everything I have read, PWI is the company they are all tuning into, setting their TiVos for, and spending their hard earned money to go and buy tickets to watch live.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “I used to follow wrestling a bit when I was a kid, and through my high school and college years, but I have to say, it became kind of a passing craze for me in my early twenties…”
Maurice Drummond : “Like you was ever sober enough to know anything about your younger twenties Martin. Get real man.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Okay so it was more of a passing out craze, it’s all the same. black outs, missing days on end. But the point I was making is that up until recently, wrestling kinda lost its luster for me. But more recently, with the one name that has been in all the papers, on all the talk shows, and seemingly on everyone’s lips, is that of the PWI’s latest asset. “The Final Fate” Mesterio Raine. It seems like the seventies had their Nick Bockweinkles, and their Bob Backlunds. The eighties had their Harley Races, and their Hulk Hogans, the eighties into the nineties had their Ric Flairs, the Rock, guys like that. But the name of the this century seems to be without a shadow of a doubt, Mesterio Raine. His face is everywhere. Lunchbags, toys, posters, t-shirts, like I mentioned talk shows, tabloids, bill boards, food network. Everything thing and everywhere. This guys has had more titles than Mo here has had females…”
Maurice Drummond : “White woman maybe, but not total. I get mine, never mistake that son! But you’re right. It says here, 15 times he has been a world champion. I think the next closest to him is Triple H with 14.”
Rich Gould : “And let’s put that into perspective here guys. 15 times he has been world champion. In all of the sports world, the only greater numbers are Ferrari’s racing company has had the most with 31 World Championships. Next are the New York Yankees with 26, and then the Montreal Canadians with 24. Now these are franchises that have been around for decades and decades. Mesterio Raine has been in the business for just over 7 years. That number is staggering!”
Martin Kilcoyne : “See fans, always on top of the numbers game we are here at the FAN! Now at this event called Sunday Night Fusion, there are going to be some big matches. You have Fizz vs Tank Stevens…I’m sorry…those names make me laugh. I mean somewhere, at some point, someone woke up and said you know what would sell in this business? Guys with names like Glacier, Fizz, Tank. But whatever, I mean they sell, everyone remembers them, guess that’s all that matters…”
Maurice Drummond : “We should do that here Martin. Come up with marketing nicknames for ourselves. Like you could be The Killer. That would sound cool. “Killer” Martin Kilcoyne. Gouldy could be like a redneck or something…”
Rich Gould : “Ha ha ha Drummond. And you could be like that guy from the eighties…”Adorable” Adrian Adonis. You could be like “Dreamy” Maurice Drummond. You could wear the lipstick, the eye shadow, the whole nine yards. What do you think Martin?”
Before Martin could do more than laugh, the studio line rings.
Tracy : “Looks like we woke up someone with all this talk about wrestling.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “On our celebrity Phone In line fans, he will be in one of the main events facing the man leading a group called The Syndicate, Jon Tees, but I am told that this match is part of the first round for the PWI Title. He is the man we have been talking about all morning, please welcome to Martin Morning Radio, PWI up and coming rising star “The Final Fate” Mesterio Raine. Mesterio…how ya been buddy?”
Mesterio Raine : “To tell you the truth martin Killjoy, not too good.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Why is that champ?”
Mesterio Raine : “Well to tell you the truth, I expected more from a veteran like yourself. To say that wrestling became an afterthought? Not exactly great PR work on your part my friend. But, we are in Richmond, but you poor saps live in St. Louis which means you guys all have to live in the state of Misery on a daily basis. I guess the mere struggle to not slit your wrists lengthwise is all you can do. So, I’ll let it go.”
Maurice Drummond : “Mesterio, please forgive my not ready for prime time cohort here. He doesn’t speak for all of St. Louis. I, for one, think wrestling is bigger than it has ever been and seems to be getting nothing but bigger thanks to guys like you.”
Mesterio Raine : “And there within lies the problem. See, maybe you DO speak for the entire city. I am starting to think there is one collective brain being used for everyone so apparent and continuous thought isn’t plausible. It’s not because of guys LIKE me Maurice. It’s because of ME! Period. Make no mistake about it. Fuck the Hulk Hogan’s of the world, the Harley Races, The Rocks, and the Triple H’s. They have done squat to put this business on the forefront of everyone’s minds. Hell it was guys like Hogan that made a mockery of this business with the Saturday morning cartoons, the vitamins and prayers bullshit. It was guys like Harley Race that made people think of this sport as it having some kind of affiliation with back woods country shits like the guy I have to face Sunday Night Jon Tees. I am Mesterio Raine. I will be the Pheonix Wrestling Inc. Champion. I am not a fucking pushover. Unlike a proctologists dream like Tees, my family tree is strong.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Mesterio, I am gonna have to ask you to stop cursing on the air. We do have to abide by FCC regulations, and we can’t have you violating them.”
Tracy : “Actually Martin, I didn’t have a chance to mention it, but he can pretty much say whatever he wants. He gave the station a pretty large retainer that should more than cover our fines.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Well then, fine, fuck it!”
Tracy : “Okay Martin, I am afraid you are going to be fined once the show is reviewed.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Wait you just said…”
Mesterio Raine : “She said I was covered you mope! You think I am going to foot the bill for your ass too? Jesus what has this world become. Everyone wants a delicious fucking ride, everyone wants Mesterio Raine to carry their dead as weight. Pay your own damn bills Martin. No one wants to earn their fucking way anymore, everyone expects a hand out, but no one can understand that all they should brining hope for is a hand up. Its common sense but it’s the one thing lacking in this world, and especially in this business.”
Rich Gould : “Wait Mesterio, I have to jump in here for one second. You called Jon Tees a proctologist’s dream…that sounded hysterical. What exactly did you mean by that?”
Mesterio Raine : “Does that really need to be explained? Pretty self-explanatory if you ask me. He was born a shit and seems to just have gotten bigger. He’s a proctologists dream.”
Martin Kilcoyne : “You seem to have a lot of pent up aggression towards this one particular superstar. Is there a lot of history between you two? You know, like the old days of Hogan and Andre the Giant, or the Von Erich’s and the Freebirds?”
Mesterio Raine : “Wow, you really are ancient aren’t you Killjoy? There is some history between Tees and myself. Nowdays he’s just another one in the long line of guys who were cherry picked by management and placed in a position they never fully earned, thinking that they are owed something. This fucking kid ran around the backstage area to everyone and anyone that would listen and cried and moaned about how he never gets the time in the limelight, how he is the red headed stepchild of the PWI. But you know something? In this business, it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with who you know. That’s the one misconception a lot of these fucking loudmouths in the locker room seem to not realize.
They think because they truly believe that they are owed something, they get this overall sense of entitlement. But that’s not what this business is fucking about. I won both of our encounters in the past Jon and history is merely going to repeat itself.. You’ll see what that is all about in the ring when I plant Tees like a tent spike and he feels the Raine of Blood. I promise you won’t be walking away from that one. You certainly won’t be getting up any time soon after without help from an EMT.”
Maurice Drummond : “Mesterio, from actually watching your past three matches with the expection of the classic you put on against Williams you haven’t really shown the fans all that much. Lately, there is talk that everyone finds all of this amusing. Tees claims that you can’t beat him, and that he is in your head.”
Mesterio Raine ::: “The only thing about that little prick that is in my head is the fact he happens to be across the ring from me Sunday Night. Now I know what little half assed no talent bitches like you operate. Never let the truth get in the way of a perfectly good bullshit story to save face. You know you have not only been shown to be the woman that you are, but now that you are nothing more than an over paid, over-hyped, no talent space filler. Which means the next camera you find yourself in front of will result in about twenty minutes of mind numbing nonsense about how you never said, this or that or that the GM is involved in some kind of conspiracy just to make you look bad. Truth is, it doesn’t matter what you say Tees, it never really has. You are one of those guys who could leave this business tomorrow and not only would no one care, they wouldn’t even remember your name outside of maybe a month. I will be right in your face for about 5 seconds Snday night before you find yourself looking out of one eye because the other one is swollen shut, then within minutes of looking at the world ever so briefly upside down before everything makes that sudden switch to blackness. Lights out you fucking freak!”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Mesterio is it possible that the reason you are as upset as you are is because there was a time when no one would have even thought of crossing paths with you? That this supposed no one has actually run his mouth of enough to strike a nerve? I mean he does bring up some valid points about how you pointing out his lack of stature could work against you.”
Mesterio Raine : “Work against me? Oh hell no. Its about time that these no ones who have achieved absolutely everything they can in their careers and have certain things to hang their hats on, learn that they need to actually do something to get respect. They have to accomplish something. This rat bastard comes out and declares that I didn’t rightfully earn anything I have today. And that may very well be true. See I believe there is a huge difference between myself and the jungle bunny, porch monkey, fucking donkey balls like Tees. The very fact that he automatically places himself within the ranks of these great athletes that are doing all these things is laughable in itself. He keeps saying PWI will dominate, The SYndicate are this, The Syndicate are that. What the fuck has this onion-eyed bitch contributed to any of that? Really someone tell me, I’m dying to know. His pride is a joke. It’s not the bosses I hate. It’s lazy, good for nothing, cheap shooting, talking out of their ass, coat-tail fucking riders like you. It’s you that I hate Tees. It’s the guy, regardless of race, creed, or color, who steps up and acts like a proud peacock when deep down inside he knows he was the most insignificant person in the world. He is the guy who had try outs and got cut from some professional sports team who comes out later and calls himself a member of the PWI Elite. Knowing damn well he has done nothing to show this.”
Rich Gould : “I have to ask the question Mesterio. He has had quite a bit to say about you and what he believes your chances of stepping up to the plate, to borrow a sports pun, and beating him are. He is an impressive looking man in size, I mean he could probably fold any of us up into a neat little flag or something, a pair of rolled up socks perhaps. You have to be impressed with that don’t you?”
Mesterio Raine : “Why? Because he spend 5000 hours a day in a gym? You could look like that too if you had nothing else going for you Rich. But the facts remain the facts. If Jon Tees was just so fucking great, why is it that after all this time, he still doesn’t and hasn’t warranted a title shot let alone a title reign? You know what? It’s simple, he has a million dollar body and a ten cent head! He doesn’t look at big pictures, he doesn’t look at the future. He thinks of simply the here and the now. He puts everything he has into one action. And in this case, he chose to jump on the biggest ride in the amusement park and he is no way, shape or form ready to take this one on. He figures if he keeps talking and talking and talking that he might get someone to buy into whatever he is trying to sell. Well, actually, I think he might be trying to convince at least one person…himself. I have said it about people like him for as long as I can remember. He isn’t content with being Jon Tees a potential tag team star or something like that. He wants to live above his means and by that I mean he wants to be better than he ever will possibly be able to be. You see power is made by power being taken and bigger and badder men than you have tried to take what I have, which is all the power. And much like each and every one of them, you will fail miserably as well. Now if you’d like, come on out here again and go on another ten minute rampage about how you are not all those other guys. Everyone says it you would be no different.
But in the end, they all sit around in their little group sessions with their therapists and have to struggle but eventually come up with the same result. They just weren’t as good as they thought they were. Neither are you. You bring up the facts that you have climbed every mountain there is to climb in the past, being held back in PWI. You say that I have to come to terms with my end being near. That may be true, I might be living on borrowed time as they say. But you know what Jon, it’s still my time. When was yours? You have had your time in the spotlight now its time to step the fuck back and let the fresh talent come through. The difference between these up-coming guys and you Jon is simple. They are going to be worth something in this business and you aren’t worth the stain your daddy left on the fucking sheet in that cheap ass motel you were conceived in. Yeah that’s right Tees I said it, I brought it up. You are worse than a wanna be man. You are a wanna be who can never be. You like to run your mouth but when push comes to shove, you figure out that that’s all you were ever good for. Running. Because when you push, and then get pushed back, you take off living to cry, bitch, and moan another day. I’m not hiding Tees, I’m not running. We don’t have to wait for Sunday. We could do this anywhere, anytime. Hell, go ahead and bring something with you, you know you’ll need it. You talk about how I’m grasping at straws yet you went on a drink binge over the words I was saying that everyone on the planet knew was sarcasm and tried to make yourself look good in the process. Everyone knows Mesterio Raine could care less about the rule book. Hell, I wrote the book on how to go around THAT book. But it gave you something else to talk about. Because you love hearing yourself yap! I told the world you were going to just talk, and talk, and talk, but in the end, nothing of practical sense or use would come out. I guess we proved that one right as well huh Tees?
Let me set you straight Jon. I am coming for you. I am coming to RIchmond whether it be in the ring, the parking-lot, the backstage area, the grassy knoll, your mom’s bedroom, some barbeque shack, some watermelon stand, some fucking fried chicken drive thru…I’m coming for you. It’s all about me wanting to make an example for the dimwits, dumbfucks, and half tards much like yourself. I am going to rip your head from your neck and then I am going to beat your torso with it! I am going to take your severed head and jam it so far down your throat hole that you will be able to hear me first hand kicking the absolute crap out of you! I’m coming for you Jon. You demanded my undivided attentions boy…now you got them. Listen closely Jon…do you hear it? Do you? Listen really good. That sound you hear, is the end of your career coming full speed ahead. And that other sound Tees…is no one giving a fuck!”
Martin Kilcoyne : “Well, we are just about out of time fans, we’d like to thank Mesterio Raine for….”
“Doooooooooooooooooooooooooo”
Martin Kilcoyne : “He…wait…he hung up? Are you serious? He hung up? He actually just hung the phon…”
Fades to commercial.
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Post by Big Daddy Tees on Apr 24, 2013 19:31:19 GMT -5
www.jontees.com/EWBlog/role-play-archives/pwi-collection/jon-tees/revisiting-the-past(Bayamón, Puerto Rico, July 17, 1988)
(We are in the backstage area at a World Wrestling Council event and see several very familiar wrestlers hanging around. The likes of Carlos Colón, Tony Atlas, Harley Race, Terry Funk and several others. An interesting face suddenly shows up that might be more familiar to modern wrestling fans. The face belongs to Jon Tees who oddly looks exactly as he does in the modern era. Tees is dressed in a pair of black leather biker pants and a red and black muscle shirt with black biker boots. He begins greeting the other wrestlers and in particular seems to ask where Bruiser Brody is. He is given directions to Brody’s locker room and travels down a long hallway to get there. He knocks on the door and Brody answers.)Bruiser Brody: WHO THE HELL IS IT?!
Tees: It’s me.Brody: And who the fuck are you?Tees: Jon Tees, you and I are working together in a tag match tonight.Brody: Tag match? What the fuck do you mean a tag match? I work alone shit for brains now get the hell out of here before I pound your fucking face in.Tees: Mr. Brody… with all due respect sir I’m not even in the room. You’re yelling at me through the door. (With that Brody opens the door.)
Brody: Get the fuck out of here you worthless pile of monkey crap!.
Tees: But the booker put us together in a tag match and I just wanted some advice.Brody: I gave you my advice get out of here while the getting is good!!!Tees: I’m not going anywhere Brody. I didn’t come all of this way for nothing.Brody: I have to admire your heart if nothing else. You certainly don’t have much of a brain come in for a beer then.
Tees: Ok, will do. (Brody and Tees enter the locker room and begin drinking an entire six pack.Once they are finished the two continue their conversation.)
Brody: The best advice I can give you is look out for number one and don’t trust a damn person in this rotten shit business. People will stab you in the back in a heartbeat and no one will do a damn thing for you unless it’s convenient for them. Which it almost never fucking is. I have to go meet with some guy in the shower to discuss business I’ll see you out there later on.
Tees: Ok, thank you Mr. Brody.
(Brody heads into the showers to “discuss business” with promoter/wrestler José González a scuffle is heard and Tony Atlas later finds Brody clutching his stomach and bleeding with González standing over him holding a knife. Brody dies and Tees disappears as mysteriously as he arrived. No one even remembers Tees having been there much less being booked on the card. Brody was scheduled for a singles match with Dan Spivey later that evening.) (Fade out)
(October 22nd, 2001)
(Jon Tees has just single handedly saved Smack: CCW from the clutches of the SWO by defeating the entire SWO roster in a gauntlet match capping it off by beating the leader of the SWO Big Badd Wolf in his signature match a glass tables match for full control of Smack: CCW. Tees is shown being congratulated by his comrades Tim Jones, Big Ern, JJ Crawford, Dustin Crawford, Matt Holton, Lucky Irish, Adam Stone and many, many others most of whom were taken out by the SWO during their invasion of the CCW. Tees was the only one left standing and as a commentator at the time was not seen as a threat by the SWO upper echelon. They would soon come to regret their mistake when the man they overlooked and underestimated was responsible for their ultimate downfall. A shot of Big Badd Wolf is shown defeated, and vanquished crawling out of the arena in defeat along with many of his cohorts. ) Tim Jones: You did it Tees, you pulled it off we knew you could do it. You beat that no good son of a bitch in his own match after taking out the best he had to offer.
JJ Crawford: I never doubted you for a second… I knew you had it in you and you didn’t disappoint. Big Ern: I have to admit, I did have my doubts about you at first Tees but you more than proved me wrong and earned my respect. (Ern extends his hand and shakes Tees’)
Lucky Irish: I’m glad you came through… Because of you Smack: CCW will survive for many more years the threat is gone.
Tees: Don’t mention it all in a days work. It’s what those bastards get for overlooking and underestimating me. If you don’t see me as a threat this is the sort of thing that happens to you. Dustin Crawford: I don’t think anyone is ever going to take you lightly again, not after this. You have earned your place as a man who should be both feared and respected.
Tim Jones: If and when I have a son some day I’m going to name him after you. You’ve been nothing short of a brother to me during my companies time of need, I don’t know how to thank you or how to repay you for all you’ve done. Tees: Like I said no thanks required only doing my job.(Everyone toasts to Tees and a wild party ensues.) (November, 1999)
(Tees is shown preparing for his “debut” in the locker room when he’s informed that his opponent has refused to wrestle him due to the fact that he’s a “worthless nobody” angry Tees storms into the man’s locker room and beats the crap out of him basically wallpapering the room with him and no doubt leaving a lasting impression. Oddly, not fired he’s moved up to a higher level match by an impressed promoter. He wins the match and goes on to become champion a short time later)(Fade out)
(Present Day. Tees is shown laying in bed alongside his lovely wife Temptress. Just waking up he prepares to face another day. He heads down to his personal gym and puts in a heck of a work out. Afterwards he has breakfast, takes a shower, makes love to his wife, takes another shower, has lunch, hits the gym again, takes another shower and then dresses in an expensive suit. Oddly, he doesn’t go out on the town but rather goes down to his own personal promo room. He sets up a simple backdrop nothing more than his name and image. He sets up a camera and begins speaking getting right to the point.) Tees: For over 20 years I have dominated this business everywhere I’ve gone, everyone I faced. There is nothing I haven’t accomplished, nothing. I’ve done it all and than some and have seen em come and I’ve seen em go countless times. I’ve watched people debut and watched them retire and I’m still here and still going strong. Physically I don’t look or feel any older than I did the day that I started in this business. But emotionally, mentally and spiritually I’ve evolved to a level that no one else can comprehend. I’m a whole different animal now, a rampaging, unstoppable beast who is going to charge right through everyone who dares get in my way on my path toward yet another world championship.
Tees: Mesterio Raine you talk a tough game. I’ll give you that and you aren’t a bad wrestler at all. But I can hear the fear and intimidation in your voice. You know you are heading into a war that you simply cannot win against a monster with a brain, a monster who lacks compassion and doesn’t know the meaning of the word mercy. You may have beaten some impressive names in this industry and won countless championships in promotions where I wasn’t mind you. But you have never fully had the Jon Tees experience and until you’ve had the Jon Tees experience you haven’t accomplished jack shit in your pathetic, meaningless, empty, pointless existence. Yes, you’ve gotten a few cheap wins over me, but you were facing someone with rust, someone accustomed to administrative positions at those particular times. But now I’m back at top form as a wrestler and I’m in better shape than I’ve been in, in years. I don’t hate you, this is not personal as a matter of fact you remind me of me in many respects. Another place, another time you and I may have been friends or formed an unbeatable team, but neither of these things are the case you and I are going to war this Sunday evening and only one of us will emerge and continue on. That person will be me. I will defeat you by rook or by crook it makes no difference to me a win is a win and the ends always justify the means. If I have to hurt you to beat you I will, if I have to end your career to beat you consider it done, if I have to fucking kill you you’re a dead man. Whatever it fucking takes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, but Jon Tees is winning this match by any means necessary and moving onto bigger and better things.
(Fade out with Tees laughing)
(To be continued? Possibly)
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