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A Wingless Angel

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A Wingless Angel

Post by krzy on 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.



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Re: A Wingless Angel

Post by krzy on 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.

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Re: A Wingless Angel

Post by krzy on 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.

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Re: A Wingless Angel

Post by krzy on 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.

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Re: A Wingless Angel

Post by krzy on 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.

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Re: A Wingless Angel

Post by krzy on 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.

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