A Wingless Angel

by **krzy** Wed Oct 24, 2018 10:14 pm

Two chairs are set up on either end of a small coffee table with a plant on top of it. Legendary CMV interviewer Guy. sits in one chair. Brett Angel, hands clasped in his lap, head tilted down, sits across from him.

GUY.: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is the first in a series of interviews with the greatest wrestler in CMV today: a man who calls himself an outcast, while I call him the company’s most polarizing figure by a country mile--Brett Angel.

So, Brett, let’s get right to it: What happened that night?

ANGEL: Oh, what a night it was, Guy. To my left stood the Alpha Champion. On my right, his challenger--

GUY.: Oh my God... you know that's not what I mean.

Angel lifts his head, and there's a sadness in his eyes.

An irreparable despair.

ANGEL: On that night I burned the bridge before I stepped foot on it. I was hoping Fusion would be the reprieve I desperately needed until Rayne--I knew it, Guy.

I knew all along that he would be trouble.

They always are; they're the ones drowning, but it’s the innocent people who get pulled beneath the surface.

GUY.: Is that why you didn’t try to help Dulé?

Angel clenches his jaw.

ANGEL: I did try. I warned him; I told him men like Rayne can’t be saved.

GUY.: Why won't you say his name?

A tense second passes.

GUY.: You didn’t just happen to arrive at the last second. No, you were there trying to talk your way onto Fusion. You watched as Rayne held his foot against Dulé’s throat for what felt like a lifetime. You even stopped the guards from intervening, Brett.

Why?

ANGEL: I warned him. He tried to “do the right thing” anyway. How would he learn if an army arrived to pull his ass outta the fire? I show up trying to play hero and either I end up taking the bullet for him, or he tries again later.

Then we’re back where we started.

No, I wasn’t risking another career-threatening injury. He made his choice and assumed all the risks and consequences that came with it. Last time I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, it turned out Tim was alive all along.

GUY.: The difference is that you had a vested interest this time around. Dulé was your friend.

ANGEL: Was?

GUY.: You think he’d forgive you?

ANGEL: I think that I had a split second to make a choice, and either way it wouldn’t have been a fairy-tale ending just because Brett Angel got involved.

GUY.: It seems you got what you wanted. Dulé surely learned his lesson.

So, was it worth it?

Angel takes a long time, nearly a full minute, to consider his answer.

ANGEL: It shouldn’t have come to that.

He gets up and walks out of the room.

The coffee table collapses.

by **krzy** Thu Dec 06, 2018 11:02 pm

Guy. is back after the last interview went a little awry.

He places his notes next to a potted plant on the small table that's been patched up since it spontaneously collapsed. His head snaps to the right when Brett Angel steps into the room.

GUY.: Thank you ladies and gentlemen for joining me. An even bigger thanks to you, Brett, for showing up-----thirty-seven minutes late.

ANGEL: Thirty-seven and a half.

GUY.: Please, have a seat so we can get started.

ANGEL: I'd rather st--

There's a smash cut back to Angel who does indeed find himself sitting.

GUY.: Thank you.

It feels like a lifetime since that fateful night, and you clearly haven't been the same. Even if you won't admit it. You're wearing paint now, you no longer do "the lean", and you've been taking more risks inside of the ring along with a seething anger that reared its head when you attacked Slate and Tanaka.

What I want to talk about tonight, though, is the body paint.

ANGEL: There's nothing remarkable about it. I just felt like trying something new.

GUY.: Really? Funnily enough, you never quite felt the urge to do so until what happened with the Black G--

ANGEL: You know what I'm dying to talk about, Guy.?

GUY.: Something tells me it'll have nothing to do with my observation.

ANGEL: What was the point of that video you played?

GUY.: My team felt it would be a good way to familiarize any new fans with you.

ANGEL: By highlighting my failures? The bridges I've burned, the championships I've never been able to win again? Because of that video, those new fans must think I'm some washed up waste who peaked and can't reached those heights anymore.

Angel's voice cracked delivering that last line, but his stare is intense and unwavering.

GUY.: No one thinks that. Any one who does hasn't seen your last two matches where you showed exactly why you've had a career most men would kill for.

ANGEL: A career many said would die the moment I dared walk away from UnMatched. I told them, Guy. I said that I didn't need them. They needed me. Angel is UnMatched. But they never swallowed their pride. They never admitted they wronged me. Instead, UnMatched choose to die a slow death thinking it could live without its goddamn heart.

Look where it is now.

Gone.

I outlived it!

I won!

I'm the last one standing!

That's why no matter what Slate has done and said, he's the one on the back foot hiding behind the patriarch of my favorite wrestling family holding his championship close to his chest when it's his life that I want.

I don't say that lightly.

A tense pause.

ANGEL: For as long as we're both on Genesis, he will never know peace.

"What a jerk!" a soft voice cries out the that doesn't belong to Guy., the only other person in the room.

Guy. looks at the plant and shrugs.

GUY.: Yeah, but he has his moments.

by **krzy** Fri Dec 14, 2018 11:25 am

It was only the first match of the evening, and what a spectacular bout it ended up being. A wise man once said that two years is a long time, but that two-plus years of effort finally bore fruit for Brett Angel when he captured his first championship since making the transition to the Genesis roster.

And here comes the man himself gingerly walking down the hallway. Blood and sweat flow together down his face, International Championship proudly draped over his shoulder.

Angel pauses in front of the camera man. He bends over and places a hand on each knee trying to catch his breath--fatigue and adrenaline at war within him. Guy. walks up ready to interview the newly-crowned champion, but before CMV finest journalist can get a word out, Angel puts a finger over his lips.

ANGEL: I know what you're gonna ask:

"How does it feel?"

Only in that stuffy journalistic tone you tend to use.

Guy. inhales, ready to object, but Angel continues speaking.

ANGEL: But I'll tell you how I feel.

Like this isn't enough.

Like Xander Slate is STILL getting away with murder.

With all the knees and kicks I took to the face, and with all the times I was dropped on my head during that match, it took every fiber of my being, every.last.drop of whatever the hell it is that keeps me going to keep Slate in that submission for as long as I did.

A second longer and I wouldn't have had the energy to keep him there.

Angel closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.

ANGEL: But when I close my eyes, Guy., I see it:

I'm still there in the ring, Slate in my clutches, screaming in agony, tapping out for minutes after the bell had already rung and begging for a mercy that just won't come.

At least not from me.

It's just like I told the powers that be when I left UnMatched.

It's just like I told Rubik when he thought he could taint my legacy.

It's just like I told D'Angelo Prince when he thought he absorb my legacy.

It's just like I told Matsuda Tanaka when I fought my way into the title match.

It's just like I told Xander Slate when he had Patty change the rules of the match in Slate's favor thinking Slate could make lightning strike twice.

I will always be the last. one. standing.

Because I think I know what exactly is that "whatever the hell that keeps me going."

It's anger, frustration, despair, an emotional aching that made me feel like there was no way I was losing that match unless I was being put on a GURNEY by the end of the night.

Luckily that didn't happen.

I know you would have missed me.

Again, Guy. goes to object to Angel's statement as Angel smiles.

ANGEL: I stand before you and everyone else as a champion, and as long as I hold this title, unlike Slate, I will defend this title like a true champion and give this championship the prestige he never could.

It starts Sunday.

There’s a poll. I urge you all to vote for me.

My opponent won’t be a mystery, though.

Matt Devious...we have a lot to talk about.

Guy. tries to ask what business those two could possibly have with each other, but Angel is somehow already gone.

by **krzy** Wed Dec 26, 2018 8:18 pm

Your reigning and defending International Champion Brett Angel is backstage here in Tokyo, and he’s...watching a replay of his Ascendance match? Angel notices the camera behind him and quickly shuts off his phone.

ANGEL: You weren’t supposed to see that.

What you are supposed to see tonight is Brett Angel wrestling with his International Championship on the line, one on one against...who?

???: CARES!

Angel jumps and looks around him for the source of that voice.

ANGEL: Your guess is as good as mine. I thought I was doing management a favor by personally requesting Matt Devious. I suppose I was asking for a little too much. The LaFaves and I never saw eye to eye. Then again, Turner and I aren’t exactly best friends either. Boy, what a pickle I find myself in here on Genesis. Luckily for me, Devious came early. I’ve noticed a trend: every time I’ve lost so far, I was attacked. Fool me twice though… well, what can I say, I should have seen it coming.

It’s in his name.

Matthew.

I’ve never met a Matthew who had any semblance of class or professionalism.

Angel shrugs

ANGEL: You didn’t have to jump me from behind to get my attention, Matty. I’ve had an eye on you since that fateful Elimination Chamber match. You had ONE SHOT at making a good first impression here on Genesis, but you aimed the gun at the wrong person.

Now look where that's left the both of us.

Angel’s eyes look a little crazed. That expression quickly disappears as he closes his eyes and inhales a very deep breath. He smiles as he exhales. The smile isn't born of humor, however. It's cold.

ANGEL: What I don't get, Matty -- and I'm hoping you get off Twitter one of these days, because I'm DYING to discuss things face to face with you -- what I don't get is why you attack me from behind, then sing my praises from a distance.

“Overrated” isn't a word I've heard since I cruised to my fourth world championship victory. And now, to see it used with such disdain by one this company's brightest and rising stars has me feeling a little nostalgic.

He chuckles. Again, cold.

ANGEL: Maybe you’re on to something.

Ask Newsome, and he’ll tell you some weird story about his snake. And then he'll tell you that you're not gonna get a fair match against LaFave...if you get a match at all.

No, it seems these days Brett Angel is the only man you can turn to for a championship opportunity if you have no friends to challenge the ATL with and too pudgy to take on Flatters. It's a good thing for this roster that Brett Angel is a champion who welcomes all challengers.

My opponent tonight holds the advantage. He, or she, knows everything about me. My tactics, my moves, the way the sweat glides down my chest, and I don't even know their name.

That's all in the fun, though, isn't it? I've had to fight with the odds stacked against me before. I had to battle back two men who despised me just to win the International Championship in the first place.

Imagine what I'll be willing to do to retain it.

by **krzy** Wed Jan 02, 2019 5:59 pm

After a successful championship defense, reigning International Champion Brett Angel is making the most of his time here in Tokyo by helping himself to some sushi.

ANGEL: It appears I misspoke; for that I apologize.

I went on and on and on about how my opponent held the advantage, because I had no idea who he, or she, would be.

It turned out to be Chris Adams.

That changed some things.

See, Chris, whether it’s a ladder match in the first ever Implosion main event, a battle inside of hell in a cell with my world championship on the line, or every other fight in between, as good as you are, I’ve always had your number... even pulling allies out of thin air isn’t enough.

Angel chuckles between bites of his meal.

ANGEL:I think you missed the memo.

The trick is to attack me before the match.

Maybe the change in time zones threw everything out of whack. Maybe it was jet lag. Maybe if Elliot were there things would have played out differently. Maybe if Guy. were here he’d have reminded me that I don’t even like sushi.

Angel slaps the tray of sushi off the table. It curves in mid air landing in a garbage can several feet away.

ANGEL:Welcome to Genesis, by the way.

It took a few years for me to pave the road, though there are some cracks here and there. I’d like to think of Genesis these days as a warm, welcoming place for UnMatched rejects. I beat Luger and Kynra and had nothing to show for it. Now, we’ve got Adams getting a title shot in his debut, Newsome one match away from becoming Alpha World Champion and King having an audience for his pontifications.

My, oh, my! Truly a beautiful sight to behold.

Angel wistfully sighs, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye before he wipes it away.

ANGEL: There are the bad apples, of course. The Xander Slates of the world. The cowards who wreak havoc and raise hell then hide when someone bigger and badder comes along. Xander, I want you to know that your name still fills me with an unfathomable rage. I want to remind you that we still have unfinished business. As long as I walk the Earth, you should always be looking over your shoulder. Luckily for you, my issues with Matt Devious are just as personal, but much, much more immediate.

I can understand the frustration, Matty. Really, I do. You’ve been here so long, success always barely out of reach. The potential is there, I see it. The hunger, the drive, the passion, it’s all there--just waiting for the stars to align so you can put it all together. You went after Briggs, and the moment it looked like you had something going, you ended up on my side of town. You tried with Divine, but he’s too lionized, right? Untouchable. No matter what you do, his status is cemented.

Which left me.

Angel’s expression turns cold.

ANGEL: Vulnerable, a shell of who he used to be years ago, but you could still make a delectable meal from those paltry ingredients, right? The thing is, you can jump me from behind, you can beat me in minutes, sooner or later I’ll bounce back. What’s been tougher to stomach is that I lost a friend when he tried to be a hero on Fusion.

You played a role in that.

I’ll make you answer for it.

by **krzy** Mon Jan 14, 2019 11:49 pm

As Genesis returns from a commercial break, we're treated to a deliciously up-close shot of Brett Angel from behind. Those traps, those lats, those flexing triceps--turn away now if this is too much to handle. He's watching a video--this over-the-shoulder camera angle revealing that it’s another replay of a tag team bout, this go round with Osiris by his side.

Angel sighs as a door opens behind him. Both he and the camera turn and find a befuddled Dave Turner standing in the door frame.

ANGEL: Davey! Fancy meeting you here. Long time no speak.

Turner silently regards Angel for moment before lifting his hand to flip the light switch. Angel squints and covers his eyes from the intrusive rays.

ANGEL: Jesus, give a guy a warning first, would you?

TURNER: What the hell are you doing in my office?

The camera zooms out, and, sure enough, Angel has his feet propped up on the Co-Co-(Co?) General Manager's desk.

ANGEL: Let's not waste time with silly questions. But since fate brought us together, I couldn't help but notice our old ref jumped ship to Fusion. I don't want to toot my own horn or anything, but if you need a new full-time guy for the A Minus Show, I am a certified referee.

Turner shakes his head. He walks over to his desk and takes a seat behind it. He nods in the direction of Angel’s feet.

ANGEL: Oh, sorry, should have used a coaster, right? I know you desk-owning types can get a little touchy about that.

Angel drops his feet to the floor. Turner steeples his fingers, his expression showing he's still unsure what to make of this encounter.

TURNER: Not only did we already find a replacement referee, he made his debut last week.

ANGEL: Really?

TURNER: Yeah.

ANGEL: Who?

TURNER: He’s--

ANGEL: CARES!

Turner slaps his desk and leans forward all in one sharp motion. Angel chuckles.

ANGEL: Easy there, Davey! It's just a little bit of fun between friends. We are friends, right? Sure, you called me a nobody for weeks, and you ushered in the worst years of my career, but that's something we can look past, right? Bygones and all that. I bet we can put all of that nonsense behind us.

No, they can't put it behind them. At least Angel can't--the omnipresent coldness in his eyes has made that clear. Turner has been in the game long enough to sense the exponential thickening of tensions, hostility filling the room like gas just waiting for the smallest spark to ignite an explosion.

TURNER: What do you want, Brett?

Angel doesn't immediately answer. He delicately strokes the scarf around his neck, careful not to brush his fingers against the barbed wire that lines the bottom of it.

ANGEL: Beautiful, isn’t she?

Look at me, Davey--Look at me!

Turner’s eyes jump up from the scarf to the paint on Angel’s face.

ANGEL: Six people, Davey. Six circles. Six lovely souls this wrestling business gave me-- then ripped away.

To be fair, one of those was thanks to her. I wanted you to meet her in person, Davey. See, she’s been the key to my “career resurgence” as they call it. She’s the difference maker. She helped me put away Rayne, and I could have done the same with Slate at any time, but that time has yet to come. Six people, Davey. But not her.

Scarlett. Rhymes with Brett. I thought it was adorable. Rosemary thought it was a little much. But she’s gone. And she’s here now. And I didn’t even need Rosemary to do it.

Turner opens his mouth to speak, but it’s Angel now who suddenly slaps the desk.

ANGEL: Davey, I’d love nothing more than for you to get a word in. Problem is, “nobody” has been echoing in my head for years. I’m a considerate man. You’ve only been back for...a few days, is it? Superstar relations skills a little rusty, I’m sure. I’d absolutely hate if you said something that rubbed me the wrong way.

Angel stands, a humorless chuckle playing at his lips. Turner takes the plunge despite the threat.

TURNER: What happened to you?

Angel’s hand lowers from the scarf to the International Championship wrapped around his waist. He cocks his head to the side, eyes locked on Turner as if carefully choosing the correct words to answer with.

Except Angel doesn’t answer. Instead, he pats the plates of the Championship then exits the room.

by **krzy** Tue Feb 05, 2019 7:39 pm

Dozens of the finest fans the CMV Universe has to offer line the hallways decked out in black garb.

Just look at their faces.

Their expressions reek of devastation and heartbreak. It's nothing short of a miracle their collective tears haven't united to form a river.

The unthinkable, aye the unspeakable, has occurred: Brett Angel has returned without the International Championship.

He looks down the hallway at the people who believed in him, cheered for him. He let them down, and now he must face them. Angel slowly walks down the middle of this black sea, a powerful image that will resonate within CMV for eons to come. Angel stays strong, head straight, eyes sharp, voice even as he addresses the people. The first person he stops at is a woman holding her child wearing a shirt with the HALO logo on it.

ANGEL: It's a travesty, I know.

A couple of steps leaves him next to a man with Black Gael-esque facepaint.

ANGEL: I'm just as crushed as each and every one of you, trust me.

Near the end of the line is a man who weakly whispers, “Who?” to which the rest of the group softly responds, “Cares!”

ANGEL: Why good things happen to bad people is one of the great mysteries of life.

At the end of the pack awaits legendary CMV interviewer Guy. dressed in all black himself. He doesn't look as emotionally invested as the others. In fact, it would appear as though he'd rather be anywhere but here.

GUY.: Brett, I really don't see why we have to go through all of this for an inter—

Angel silences Guy. with a finger over the lips. He inhales deeply and holds the breath in his lungs, savoring it. Moments pass before Guy. jerks his head to the left, and Angel’s arm drops to his side.

GUY.: Can we at least discuss your state of mind after losing the International Championship tonight?

The breath escapes Angel's lungs in a rush, and his face lights up.

ANGEL: I'll tell you how I feel, Guy.: I've been hoodwinked! Bamboozled! Matty went on and on and on and on—

GUY.: Oh my God.

ANGEL: —and on about how silence was the key. Silence was the great equalizer, Guy.! So I looked in the mirror, and I said, "Brett, you missed a spot of paint there." Then I said, "You know what? This kid pinned me twice, maybe he's onto something. Maybe he knows something I don't."

Angel laughs dryly, a wild look in his eyes.

ANGEL: So I bit my tongue. I let him get the last word, and you better believe I had a lot to say in response.

He pulls an absurdly long sheet of paper out of his pocket that rolls down to the ground. Guy. has to reposition himself so that he doesn’t accidentally step on the parchment. Angel examines the sheet for a while, eyes zipping back and forth as he scans intensely.

ANGEL: I actually forgot to write it down.

He hands the paper to Guy. who starts rolling it back up.

ANGEL: As it turns out, the silence didn't do diddly-squat for me! The kid just flat out had my number. So I'm thinking now that Matty is a liar, and that nothing he says can be taken at face value.

GUY.: He did specifically say that he had nothing to do with what happened on Fusion.

ANGEL: He did, didn't he? Well I couldn't help but notice that as soon as Brandon Rayne was becoming a real problem, Matty hightailed it over to Genesis. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. Then again, it worked out for him, didn't it? He escaped Fusion with his life and got an International Championship reign out of it. So who am I to criticize? We should be applauding the finesse, the gamesmanship. Come on, Guy., clap!

Not since the tandem of Nick Cage blessed CMV has the sound of two men clapping sounded so sad and unenthusiastic.

GUY.: All right, I clapped, now you owe me a scoop: how soon until you cash in your rematch clause?

ANGEL: It's funny you ask that, Guy. I've thought long and hard between leaving the ring and walking back here about what comes next for "The Outcast" Brett Angel.

GUY.: And?

A look of agitation flashes across Angel's face.

ANGEL: And I'm still thinking about it. Give me a second, would ya?

It ended up being a little more than a second. In fact, about a full minute passes with Angel standing there in the classic 'thinking pose' while Guy. stands next to him repeatedly muttering "Oh my God" under his breath.

ANGEL: There will be no rematch.

GUY.: What? You're just gonna let Devious walk away unscathed?

ANGEL: Nobody's walking away, Guy., that's the beauty of it all. The International Championship isn't going anywhere, I'm not going anywhere, and if Matty is as good as he says he is, then he'll still be champion days, weeks or months down the line when I come to collect what's mine. But don't twist my words for some clickbait headline like you always do, Guy.

GUY.: Wait, what? I don't even write the headlines!

ANGEL: I didn't walk into that ring with the intentions to lose. I'm as upset as anyone that Matty put me down in front of millions of my fans and the two ladies who think his hair looks cute. After everything I went through, Guy.—think about it: I fought for years wondering if I still had what made me great on UnMatched. I fought for and failed to win the Rising Star Championship, in one of the lowest moments of my career. I came so close to calling it a day after having my arm torn out of its socket that I still have the retirement papers in a desk somewhere half signed. I fought an entire year against the Kliq. I fought my way into that International Championship match. I fought and put down two of the best in CMV in the same match to win the title!

GUY.: So go get it back, Brett. Matt Devious and Brett Angel one more time at Validation with the International Championship on the line.

ANGEL: It should be that simple, shouldn't it? The thing about loss, Guy.—

Angel’s eyes glaze over.

ANGEL: It makes you think about life in a different way. Rosemary? Gone. Leona, CJ, Osiris? HALO? Gone. Gael? Gone. Dulé? Gone! Ha! They're all fucking gone. You’ll be gone one day too, Guy. The International Championship is just the latest string of losses. Bummer, right? No. Cause I still have Scarlotte. I made her with my bare hands, and she’s the one thing that’ll never leave me.

NEVER! You understand that, Guy.? NEVER! And together we'll keep pushing forward no matter how bad things look we. will. keep. pushing. forward. That's what I've always done. That's how I made it this far. That's how I became Brett Angel. Matty jumped me and decimated me in seconds, he teamed up with Bobby to put me down for the three count, he walked into Exodus and beat me just as he said he would, but look at me Guy. LOOK AT ME!

Guy. flinches and Angel's so caught up in wherever he's mentally flown off to that he hasn't noticed. There's a maniacal look in his eyes, the smile on his face is devoid of any humor—completely cold.

GUY.: You're scaring me, Brett. What's going on with you?

ANGEL: Time and time again men just like Matty thought they could make their careers off my name without realizing what it is that makes me ME! That's why you can count the ones still kicking on ONE HAND. They're the ones who said I was washed up. I lost track of how many times people told me my days were numbered. If you take their words as gospel Guy, I've been a fluke that's been on borrowed time since KANE stripped me of my World Championship THREE DAYS after I won it!

Angel's panting heavily, three fingers held up in front of the camera. He slowly curls the fingers into a first and drops his hand. Wherever he was before, he's regained his composure now, voice low but now a little gravelly.

ANGEL: Time, Guy. I've got plenty of it. That's why when that last speck of sand drops in the hourglass I will be the Last. One. Standing.

Time, Matty. We've got plenty of it. I'll concede tonight, but who knows what pleasures tomorrow will hold.

Angel runs a hand through his hair to smooth it back down.

ANGEL: Until then, Matty, you call it silence, I say it’s laziness. You parade it around like some grand strategy, and maybe it works, but it all seems so boring to me. It's been a long, arduous month with you, but there’s a whole wide world out there filled with people to have some real fun with, and I'm gonna go hunt them down. Here’s a scoop, Guy.: I’ve already got someone in mind.

GUY.: You do? Who?

Angel looks at Guy. and chuckles.

ANGEL: Nice try, but I’m not falling for it.

Angel walks off, and Guy. throws up his hands in defeat.

GUY.: Damn it, Brett, that wasn’t a trick! I really wanted to know!

Brett?

BRETT!

by **krzy** Thu Feb 21, 2019 7:22 pm

The cameras cut backstage where Brett Angel applies the finishing touches to his facepaint.

"Jealous"

"HALO...dead"

The words still echo.

"Jealous"

"Brulé...dead"

The gears still turn.

Six dots.

Six lives bestowed then snatched away by this unmerciful business.

Angel chuckles, turning to face the camera with a gleam in his eyes.

ANGEL: Georgey...well whattaya know? There's some fight in you yet. I love it! What you said last week, about jealousy? It was like a haymaker to the jaw that I never saw coming. I took some time to think about it, and, well, you were absolutely right. You ARE absolutely correct that while my singles career has been the stuff of dreams, Georgey...dreams! There's been one black mark on my legacy that I can't quite erase.

Angel shrugs.

ANGEL: And it's not for lack of trying either. You don't have to worry about me, because I've always got something brewing in this ol’ brain of mine, and you're a big part of that. Now don't that make you feel special? You got half the story right, but you're the kinda guy to fixate on the dying tree when there's a whole forest around ya.

Angel dramatically demonstrates by slowly turning and observing every nook and cranny that surrounds him.

ANGEL: That dying tree? The jealousy you think I harbor. The dried up well of my past that's been beaten to death several times over. The forest? My real intention: taking your Kingdom away. But I'm willing to bet Matt Devious' International Championship that you STILL don't get it. Ha! I don't want to destroy...I want them for myself. I want them to stand by my side, be at the command of a real king who earned that title without having to put it in my name.

Angel's starting to dive into that special place where his eyes go wild as his body is struck with a chaotic bolt of energy.

ANGEL: HALO...Brulé...yeah they're gone, but while they were still alive and kickin' I fought for them with every fiber of my being. With HALO's careers on the line, I walked into hell in a cell against a demon and didn't stop fighting until he went down, and STAYED down. I did everything for Dulé but take the fatal bullet for him, because I wasn't going to throw my life away in a losing fight. Some people can't be saved.

His eyes glaze over, a telltale contradiction to the nonchalance his statement was delivered with.

ANGEL: That's not the case with you, Georgey. You and I....we're not cut from the same cloth. If that wasn't clear before, your two most recent actions solidified that in my mind. Last week, your man put up a hell of a fight showing the world that he's a lot more capable than you let him be. And that must have made you real mad cause you didn't even lift a finger to help drag him out of the blackest night. Then there’s tonight. In the main event, two of the finest this show has to offer...and Xander Slate...clash for a chance at being next in line to be kicked in the balls by Papa Pat.

After the guts and fortitude your man showed last week, you didn't even congratulate him for pushing Brett Angel to the limit. Worse, you took that number one contender match for yourself and didn't even offer him your spot as compensation for sending him to a certain demise against me. Selfish. That's all you are. That's all you ever will be. That's everything I've hated about the men who stand around me from the very first moment I stepped into CMV.

Angel inhales a deep breath and holds it for a long time.

ANGEL: Selfish, Georgey. You’ve marched here talking about how we should all bow to you and the UnMatched castaways?

How dare you.

Those last three words are barely words in the way Angel delivered them. Almost an animalistic growl, low in volume, threatening in implication.

ANGEL: Where was that fire and that passion and that pride in your brand when UnMatched was still around, huh? If I recall correctly, your spiel back then was your undying love for NGW. And now here we are again. You’re stating demands, making proclamations, portraying yourself as someone fit to keep UnMatched’s memory alive when you played a role in snuffing out the flame.

Still you carry the unlit torch.

There’s been talk of cycles tonight, and you’re going through your own, ain’t ya, Georgey? The cycle ends with me. There’s a chance you’ll win tonight. And there’s a chance you’ll walk into that title match alone. By the time Validation rolls around, I’ll have beaten respect into your men. They’ll experience life as the right and left hand of a selfless leader.

And they’ll never look back.

And you’ll never get a chance to stand on Fusion covered in the ashes of Genesis.

Angel runs his fingers down the length of his scarf.

ANGEL: It may not look like much. The doors creak, the windows are dirty and the walls are in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint, but Genesis is the closest thing I’ve had to a home in a long, long time. Do what you will to every one else, but expect me to be the last one standing when this is all said and done between us.

by Batman Fri Feb 22, 2019 5:07 am

This is incredible

by **krzy** Sat Mar 23, 2019 5:40 pm

ANGEL: Guy.! GUY.!

Brett Angel's voice echoes in the corridor. He's crawling on the ground, one hand with his scarf clutched tight, the other arm pressed into the ground propelling the former International Champion inch by agonizing inch along his way.

However the wily veteran managed to do it, he snuck away with the victory against two-thirds of the Kingdom.

But this is the cost.

This is the aftermath.

This is Angel's reality now that the dust has settled and the fight that he went out of his way to start has left him in so much pain he can't muster up the energy to stand.

And so he crawls.

He crawls and he calls out Guy.'s name once more.

This time Guy. does arrive, crouching down next to Angel to better hear what's spoken.

ANGEL: Took you long enough, but I'm glad you finally decided to show up.

GUY.: Look at the shape you're in. Can I get you something? Water? A towel to wipe that blood and paint off?

Angel mutters something that Guy. has to lean in to better hear. That's when Angel lunges up and pulls Guy. by the shirt down onto the ground with him.

ANGEL: A microphone, Guy. Go get a microphone. This is an interview, isn't it?

GUY.: Oh my god, did you really have to do that? And I don't just walk around with microphones on me. Not only that, but do you honestly think you're in the proper condition to be a good interviewee? Or, at least, better than usual.

Angel sighs as though Guy. were the one inconveniencing him. He holds his hand out to the side, and seconds later he catches a microphone flung from somewhere off screen. Guy.'s eyes open wide in horror and confusion, his gaze fixed in the direction the microphone came from.

GUY.: Who--

ANGEL: --cares! Just start asking questions.

Guy. shoots another concerned glance down the hall, then shifts his attention to Angel.

GUY.: Fine. Here’s a question: What the hell were you thinking going out there alone against two of the most dangerous men on Genesis?

Angel grimaces as he positions himself to sit with his back against the wall.

ANGEL: In my defense, I thought there would be three of them.

GUY.: What were you hoping to get out of this?

ANGEL: I told you, Guy. I told the Kingdom. I told everybody within earshot.

Almost every word is strained, squeezed out through clenched teeth.

ANGEL: Validation was about brand warfare, right? Well I was defending my home turf, not from outsiders from Fusion or NGW, but from the enemies within. I said Georgey didn’t care about Genesis. I said he never gave a damn about UnMatched. And what does he do? Win the NGW championship and fight under its banner. He showed his true colors: yellow. He showed that his two buddies are just meat shields that he left for dead tonight. But I showed why I’m always the last. one. standing.

He chuckles.

ANGEL: It didn’t come easy; it never does. This battle left more scars than most, but I got what I wanted out of this. And I’ll extend my invitation to the Kingdom again. Georgey left you stranded, leaving me to show you how a leader operates. I’m sure he promised you sweet nothings, maybe even let you touch the NGW championship as real special treat. Meanwhile you’re Kingdom is in shambles. Built on sand way back in NGW, and every day it sinks a little lower. Never quick enough for you to notice, but when you look back, nights like tonight will be red flags that you ignored, signs that you were fighting a losing battle.

GUY.: So what comes next for you, Brett? Are you finally going to take back the International Championship from Matt Devious?

ANGEL: I’m glad you asked--

A masked figure drifts into the frame met by Angel’s cold stare.

MAN.: Are you ready to accept my assistance given present circumstances?

His question, the request, is answered with a long, tense silence. Guy.’s eyes dart back and forth between the two men nervously.

ANGEL: Did it look like I needed any help?

The irony isn’t lost as Angel tries to stand, but the fatigue and damage endured prevents him from doing so. Instead, Angel resumes dragging himself down the hall, the interview cut short by the appearance of a man who has apparently (though for the first time on camera) been offering some kind of assistance to the outcast.

A bold and risky move given Angel’s history.

by **krzy** Wed Apr 10, 2019 9:49 pm

Brett Angel is spotted by a cameraman staring at a piece of paper on the wall. A closer look reveals that it's a scrap of parchment Angel has written on:

MAIN EVENT
TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP
GOOD BROTHERS V. REBELLION

Angel sighs, absentmindedly stroking the fabric of his scarf.

ANGEL: It's just different faces, baby girl.

But the same ol' reign of terror lingers on the horizon. I can't stand it. We've run this race before, and I came in second. If it's not one Slate sidekick, it's another.

Different faces.

He cocks his head to the side as though listening to something.

ANGEL: I know you're thirsty. It's been too long since Slate paid for what he's done. But I can only focus on one thing at a time, and tonight has given me ol' Georgey on a silver platter.

With a chuckle, he shifts his cold, grey eyes to the camera.

ANGEL: Georgey!

Your lackeys were conspicuously absent last week. Do tell, are they still being punished for what happened at Validation? It's not like it wasn't your fault or anything. Was it not you who forced them to walk in your shadow all these years? When they finally felt the sunlight on their flesh, they burned to a crisp.

To a crisp, Georgey!

All because you just gotta have the glory to yourself. Am I wrong? You'll say I am. You'll also say you need to win this King of the Ring tournament because your feelings got hurt when it was pointed out that you've never done it.

Thing is, you've gotta be in it to win it, and I'm thinking that I'll look damn good with a crown on my head, a scepter in my hand and a throne under my ass, so I'm gonna try extra hard tonight.

Don't take it to heart, buddy. Try as Josh might, names don’t have to be literal. I’m no angel, and after our match, you’ll be far from a king.

by **krzy** Wed May 01, 2019 11:05 pm

Cyberslam is nearing the end. All that’s left is a doozy of a Main Event clash for the Alpha World Championship which is getting underway. Pat LaFave’s music booms through the sound system, the raucous booing of the crowd nearly drowns it out, even here. Backstage.

Might as well be worlds away.

The embodiment of that disconnect is walking through these hallways on his way to the parking lot.

Brett Angel.

An outcast once more.

A man without a home as Genesis comes to an end and Supremacy begins without him.

Suspended.

He lost.

The King reigned supreme, and until Angel subjects himself to the ultimate humiliation of kissing George’s foot, his career, his King of the Ring spot, it all hangs in the balance, and, well, Angel is nowhere near King or his boot.

The Decision has been made.

The price has been paid, and Angel’s steps—each one slow and deliberate, his motion impeded by the damage he took in that match—take him further from the arena.

Further from CMV.

His steps are contrasted by a flurry of movement behind him as Guy. scurries to close the distance between them.

GUY.: Brett...Brett! It can't just be over like that. Everything you went through this year...

Angel pauses, but doesn't turn around.

ANGEL: So what do you think I should do?

GUY.: It won't be pretty, but there's a way out. A way forward. With all the fuss around Supremacy, people won't even remember you did it by the time the first show rolls ar– Are you even listening to me?

Angel isn't listening.

At least not to Guy.

He runs his fingers across his scarf, head slightly tilted.

ANGEL: Yeah, baby girl, I think you're right: I'm not about to kiss the foot that just kicked my ass.

Guy. tries to approach, causing Angel to whip the scarf, barbed wire coming dangerously close to slicing Guy.’s face. Angel picks up where he left off, walking toward an uncertain tomorrow.

The night only gets darker from here.

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