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Burned Cream
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Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Fri May 04, 2018 9:13 pm
Dulé Zaire is back in The Last Laugh, wiping down the counter minutes before closing time. While he cleans, he's carrying on a conversation with one of the few customers that have stuck around.
ZAIRE: ...I'm bullshittin' at all man, it has to be in a scientific journal somewhere to back me. Ever since that goddamn pervert Rhys felt me up, I haven't been the same. I'm telling you, hand on a bible, if I was in a 100% sound state of mind, I coulda dealt with Valentine and Stewart with an arm tied behind my back. Hell, give me them both at the same time, wouldn't even break a sweat.
The customers laugh as they reach for their wallets so they can pay the bill. They fist bump with Zaire, promising to be back as soon as their wives let them off the leash. Zaire doubles back around the counter, taking extra care to not miss any spots. When he gets back he nearly misses that he has a new guest in the bar. Zaire does a double take when he sees Brandon Rayne, mask and all nonchalantly sitting there. Zaire sighs and grabs two glasses that he sets down on the countertop.
ZAIRE: Rough month two, huh?
He cracks open two cans of "10", an exclusive flavor of soda from an ironic sponsor. Zaire takes a seat on the other side of the counter after filling up the glasses, and they enjoy there drinks in silence.
ZAIRE: ...I'm bullshittin' at all man, it has to be in a scientific journal somewhere to back me. Ever since that goddamn pervert Rhys felt me up, I haven't been the same. I'm telling you, hand on a bible, if I was in a 100% sound state of mind, I coulda dealt with Valentine and Stewart with an arm tied behind my back. Hell, give me them both at the same time, wouldn't even break a sweat.
The customers laugh as they reach for their wallets so they can pay the bill. They fist bump with Zaire, promising to be back as soon as their wives let them off the leash. Zaire doubles back around the counter, taking extra care to not miss any spots. When he gets back he nearly misses that he has a new guest in the bar. Zaire does a double take when he sees Brandon Rayne, mask and all nonchalantly sitting there. Zaire sighs and grabs two glasses that he sets down on the countertop.
ZAIRE: Rough month two, huh?
He cracks open two cans of "10", an exclusive flavor of soda from an ironic sponsor. Zaire takes a seat on the other side of the counter after filling up the glasses, and they enjoy there drinks in silence.
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Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Mon May 07, 2018 8:53 pm
There's a roar of cheers that burst from the crowd from the very moment the opening chords to Brulé's theme hits the airwaves. The excitement of seeing this duo is palpable, you can just about taste how badly the audience wanted these two to be reunited.
Well, here they are.
Dulé Zaire and Brett Angel, casually stroll onto the stage not a care in the world, while the crowd collectively lose their minds in comparison. Any hope they had of speaking is immediately dashed when chants of "Brulé" spring forth. It's not their favorite thing to be caleld, but, hey, whatever floats their boats.
The irresistible tandem meander down the ramp, completely in their element here in front of a raucous, sold-out crowd. Dulé slides under the bottom rope, while Anger detours around the ring, walks up the steel stairs and time seems to stop when he drapes his arm over the ringpost. It's like a model pausing for a photoshoot. We can't help but stare in awe knowing that truly to pull it off like Angel does would result in physical, mental and emotional disaster that would haunt us for years to come.
Thousands of cameras flash, the body temperatures of equally as many people rise astronomically, and it comes as no surprise when several men and women faint because they simply weren't prepared to handle such a sight. It's been five minutes now, and Angel still stands there, statuesque. Zaire eventually has to spoil the party when he pulls off his shirt and tosses it at Angel.
It lands on Angel's head, and Zaire becomes the target of some boos for daring to spoil the people's eye candy. Angel takes the shirt and throws it into the crowd. It only takes a second for it to be thrown back, the people are very displeased with Zaire at the moment. Angel rears back like a quarterback and launches it seems several rows deep into the audience. It takes a while, through the sheer effort and teamwork of several people, but the shirt eventually gets tossed back into the ring.
This happens two more times before Angel opts to change tactics. This time he throws it right at Dashing. But Dashing, Angel's number one fan, plays along and tries to throw the shirt back into the ring. Except it falls a little short and only lands inches away from the commentary booth. Zaire and Angel look at him in disgust and disappointment respectively, before Zaire exits the ring to retrieve his merchandise.
Zaire opts to take the long way around, walks up the steel stairs and tries to pull off the legendary lean, but it doesn't look quite right and the crowd lets him have it. Angel laughs as Zaire covers his ears and retreats back into the ring. Angel holds out his arms looking to make things better. Zaire takes a moment to weigh his options, the crowd goading him on in the background. Finally he steps forward, and the two men do their secret hug. The crowd cheers again in delight, Zaire's sins forgiven.
ANGEL: So where were we?
ZAIRE:I think we're at the part where you make your grand return and thank me for holding down the fort while you were out playing referee.
ANGEL: Thank you?
ZAIRE:You're welcome, buddy, I appreciate that.
ANGEL: No, why would I thank you? Didn't you lose every invitational match? You've sullied our family name.
ZAIRE:What can I say? Your run on Genesis last year inspired me.
ANGEL: And speaking of inspiration, I can't help but feel like this is the beginning of a new chapter for us. Tonight, once and for all, we show that I am a better referee than Perry White, and then we can put this behind us once and for all.
ZAIRE:Far, FAR, behind, I don't even wanna catch a glimpse of this referee drama in my rearview. It's been haunting me in every match, I haven't slept in weeks, and I gained five pounds because of this.
ANGEL: Right.
It was an unfortunate detour because I had this run as a tag team planned out to the very finest details. Where are we? Just past Emergence. Damn, we should have been four time tag team champions by now.
ZAIRE: Way to set the bar low, buddy. I was thinking we'd be months deep into a single, dominant championship reign.
ANGEL: I get it, "set the bar low", you own a bar, gotta sneak in that plug. I ain't mad at ya.
ZAIRE:That wasn't the poi--
ANGEL: But the point is that we're behind schedule. We've gotta squash this beef then set our sights on the gold. We've let teams like the Imaginary Friends and Swanson & Friend take our spot in line. That should have been us with the underwhelming title reign, damn it. Don't even get me started about how they even brought in the ATL to try and replace us outright. Our bodies weren't even cold.
ZAIRE: They look like us, talk like us, smell like us, wrestle like us, I almost want to run home and make sure one of them isn't married to my wife too.
ANGEL: It's a damn shame, really. Because I don't think polygamy is legal.
ZAIRE: That something you check often?
ANGEL: You never know when that bit of info can be useful.
ZAIRE: Well next time you're brushing up on your legalese, do me a favor and check out the statute of limitations regarding harassment at the work place.
ANGEL: Jesus, Dulé, what were you doing when I was gone?
ZAIRE: Man, shut up. I'm talking about the two men I'm facing tonight: Rhys Matthews...
ANGEL: Who?
ZAIRE:and Adam Valentine...
ANGEL: Who?!
CROWD: Cares!
ANGEL: Hang on a second, isn't Rhys the guy who...you know?
Angel whistles melodically and exagerrates his facial expressions.
ZAIRE: Yup and then Valentine preyed on my while I was in an emotional state. So what does Cass do now? Sticks me in a match with the both of them so that I can relive the trauma.
ANGEL: Things are different now, I'm a certified referee, I can help you out.
Zaire, seemingly on the verge of tears, now looks hopeful.
ZAIRE: You gonna officiate my match.
ANGEL: Nope, that would be a conflict of interest, and I respect my newfound position too much to do such a thing. No, what I am qualified and willing to do is help you put this incident behind you so that you can walk into that match, head held high, and put those five pounds you gained to good use.
ZAIRE: So what had happened was...
ANGEL: Nah, nah, we gotta do this right.
Angel motions over to the time keeper's area, and two strapping gentlemen help bring some chairs into the ring. Angel motions for Zaire to sit in one, then he takes a seat in the other. The lights dim and subtle, relaxing music plays faintly in the background.
ANGEL: Let's take it back to where it all began.
ZAIRE: It was a crisp, cool Saturday afternoon.
ANGEL: Genesis airs on Fri--
ZAIRE: Hey! You weren't there; let me tell this story the way I remember it.
ANGEL: Forgive me. So it was Saturday afternoon...
ZAIRE: Right, and I was doing my usual routine before my matches. I ate a slice of ham with honey and downed it with a glass of sparkling water. Then I went to the bathroom, and as I washed my hands I was hit with a, let's call it a premonition, that things were going to be different that night.
Silly me thought it was was a sign that that night was going to be the night I won my first invitational match...and I did. But if I knew then what I know now, that victory would come at such a cost, then a part of me would have rather finished with zero wins if it meant preserving my innocence.
ANGEL: Your innocence? How many kids do you have again?
ZAIRE: Baby number two is on the way, why do you ask?
ANGEL: Just trying to help make you a more sympathetic character. Imagine being emasculated to such a degree then having to go home a father your one and half kids.
ZAIRE: And a half?
ANGEL: Well, it's not born yet is it?
ZAIRE: That's not how it wor--anyway, where was I? I had a feeling about that night, but I kept my eyes on the prize: my first win. Let me tell you, Brett, I made my entrance, I had the goosebumps all on my skin, the crowd was eating out of the palm of my hand. I got into that ring and dominated Rhys Matthews.
ANGEL: Dominated?
ZAIRE: Decimated if we're being honest.
ANGEL: Wow! I mean, I watched the match and didn't see things that way, but I'm sure it was different actually being in that ring.
ZAIRE: Let me tell you, man, I basically just had to look at him and he was down for the count. But he just couldn't take the loss like a man. He...he cornered me.
ANGEL: And why do you think he did that?
ZAIRE: I don't know, something about gum.
ANGEL: Well, why do you keep gum in your trunks?
ZAIRE: I DIDN'T HAVE GUM!
ANGEL: Yes, Dulé! That anger, let it out and unleash it. Channel it into something you can use in your match tonight. Cass thought she could pull a fast one on you, but show her that they're the ones in danger.
Zaire's eyes fly open wide as he's struck with some kind of budget epiphany.
ZAIRE:I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. The guilt and the shame from that night...it's all gone. How did you do that?
Angel shushes Zaire and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
ANGEL: I'm a certified referee. That was only a taste of what I'm capable of. Tonight you and everyone else will see the other half. That ladder match for the Anarchy Championship will be the most fairly and impartially called match this company has ever seen.
When it's all said and done there should not even be a sliver of doubt in anyone's mind who retrieved the title. And just to make sure that the winner is truly deserving, I'm going to hang the title myself just so in such a way that only someone who knows what he's doing will be able to retrieve it.
ZAIRE:So you've gone and said all that, and now we're all just supposed to believe you won't try to take the Anarchy Championship for yourself?
ANGEL: How dare you...
Without another word, Angel drops the microphone and exits the ring in a huff, storming up the ramp in just a few, long strides.
Well, here they are.
Dulé Zaire and Brett Angel, casually stroll onto the stage not a care in the world, while the crowd collectively lose their minds in comparison. Any hope they had of speaking is immediately dashed when chants of "Brulé" spring forth. It's not their favorite thing to be caleld, but, hey, whatever floats their boats.
The irresistible tandem meander down the ramp, completely in their element here in front of a raucous, sold-out crowd. Dulé slides under the bottom rope, while Anger detours around the ring, walks up the steel stairs and time seems to stop when he drapes his arm over the ringpost. It's like a model pausing for a photoshoot. We can't help but stare in awe knowing that truly to pull it off like Angel does would result in physical, mental and emotional disaster that would haunt us for years to come.
Thousands of cameras flash, the body temperatures of equally as many people rise astronomically, and it comes as no surprise when several men and women faint because they simply weren't prepared to handle such a sight. It's been five minutes now, and Angel still stands there, statuesque. Zaire eventually has to spoil the party when he pulls off his shirt and tosses it at Angel.
It lands on Angel's head, and Zaire becomes the target of some boos for daring to spoil the people's eye candy. Angel takes the shirt and throws it into the crowd. It only takes a second for it to be thrown back, the people are very displeased with Zaire at the moment. Angel rears back like a quarterback and launches it seems several rows deep into the audience. It takes a while, through the sheer effort and teamwork of several people, but the shirt eventually gets tossed back into the ring.
This happens two more times before Angel opts to change tactics. This time he throws it right at Dashing. But Dashing, Angel's number one fan, plays along and tries to throw the shirt back into the ring. Except it falls a little short and only lands inches away from the commentary booth. Zaire and Angel look at him in disgust and disappointment respectively, before Zaire exits the ring to retrieve his merchandise.
Zaire opts to take the long way around, walks up the steel stairs and tries to pull off the legendary lean, but it doesn't look quite right and the crowd lets him have it. Angel laughs as Zaire covers his ears and retreats back into the ring. Angel holds out his arms looking to make things better. Zaire takes a moment to weigh his options, the crowd goading him on in the background. Finally he steps forward, and the two men do their secret hug. The crowd cheers again in delight, Zaire's sins forgiven.
ANGEL: So where were we?
ZAIRE:I think we're at the part where you make your grand return and thank me for holding down the fort while you were out playing referee.
ANGEL: Thank you?
ZAIRE:You're welcome, buddy, I appreciate that.
ANGEL: No, why would I thank you? Didn't you lose every invitational match? You've sullied our family name.
ZAIRE:What can I say? Your run on Genesis last year inspired me.
ANGEL: And speaking of inspiration, I can't help but feel like this is the beginning of a new chapter for us. Tonight, once and for all, we show that I am a better referee than Perry White, and then we can put this behind us once and for all.
ZAIRE:Far, FAR, behind, I don't even wanna catch a glimpse of this referee drama in my rearview. It's been haunting me in every match, I haven't slept in weeks, and I gained five pounds because of this.
ANGEL: Right.
It was an unfortunate detour because I had this run as a tag team planned out to the very finest details. Where are we? Just past Emergence. Damn, we should have been four time tag team champions by now.
ZAIRE: Way to set the bar low, buddy. I was thinking we'd be months deep into a single, dominant championship reign.
ANGEL: I get it, "set the bar low", you own a bar, gotta sneak in that plug. I ain't mad at ya.
ZAIRE:That wasn't the poi--
ANGEL: But the point is that we're behind schedule. We've gotta squash this beef then set our sights on the gold. We've let teams like the Imaginary Friends and Swanson & Friend take our spot in line. That should have been us with the underwhelming title reign, damn it. Don't even get me started about how they even brought in the ATL to try and replace us outright. Our bodies weren't even cold.
ZAIRE: They look like us, talk like us, smell like us, wrestle like us, I almost want to run home and make sure one of them isn't married to my wife too.
ANGEL: It's a damn shame, really. Because I don't think polygamy is legal.
ZAIRE: That something you check often?
ANGEL: You never know when that bit of info can be useful.
ZAIRE: Well next time you're brushing up on your legalese, do me a favor and check out the statute of limitations regarding harassment at the work place.
ANGEL: Jesus, Dulé, what were you doing when I was gone?
ZAIRE: Man, shut up. I'm talking about the two men I'm facing tonight: Rhys Matthews...
ANGEL: Who?
ZAIRE:and Adam Valentine...
ANGEL: Who?!
CROWD: Cares!
ANGEL: Hang on a second, isn't Rhys the guy who...you know?
Angel whistles melodically and exagerrates his facial expressions.
ZAIRE: Yup and then Valentine preyed on my while I was in an emotional state. So what does Cass do now? Sticks me in a match with the both of them so that I can relive the trauma.
ANGEL: Things are different now, I'm a certified referee, I can help you out.
Zaire, seemingly on the verge of tears, now looks hopeful.
ZAIRE: You gonna officiate my match.
ANGEL: Nope, that would be a conflict of interest, and I respect my newfound position too much to do such a thing. No, what I am qualified and willing to do is help you put this incident behind you so that you can walk into that match, head held high, and put those five pounds you gained to good use.
ZAIRE: So what had happened was...
ANGEL: Nah, nah, we gotta do this right.
Angel motions over to the time keeper's area, and two strapping gentlemen help bring some chairs into the ring. Angel motions for Zaire to sit in one, then he takes a seat in the other. The lights dim and subtle, relaxing music plays faintly in the background.
ANGEL: Let's take it back to where it all began.
ZAIRE: It was a crisp, cool Saturday afternoon.
ANGEL: Genesis airs on Fri--
ZAIRE: Hey! You weren't there; let me tell this story the way I remember it.
ANGEL: Forgive me. So it was Saturday afternoon...
ZAIRE: Right, and I was doing my usual routine before my matches. I ate a slice of ham with honey and downed it with a glass of sparkling water. Then I went to the bathroom, and as I washed my hands I was hit with a, let's call it a premonition, that things were going to be different that night.
Silly me thought it was was a sign that that night was going to be the night I won my first invitational match...and I did. But if I knew then what I know now, that victory would come at such a cost, then a part of me would have rather finished with zero wins if it meant preserving my innocence.
ANGEL: Your innocence? How many kids do you have again?
ZAIRE: Baby number two is on the way, why do you ask?
ANGEL: Just trying to help make you a more sympathetic character. Imagine being emasculated to such a degree then having to go home a father your one and half kids.
ZAIRE: And a half?
ANGEL: Well, it's not born yet is it?
ZAIRE: That's not how it wor--anyway, where was I? I had a feeling about that night, but I kept my eyes on the prize: my first win. Let me tell you, Brett, I made my entrance, I had the goosebumps all on my skin, the crowd was eating out of the palm of my hand. I got into that ring and dominated Rhys Matthews.
ANGEL: Dominated?
ZAIRE: Decimated if we're being honest.
ANGEL: Wow! I mean, I watched the match and didn't see things that way, but I'm sure it was different actually being in that ring.
ZAIRE: Let me tell you, man, I basically just had to look at him and he was down for the count. But he just couldn't take the loss like a man. He...he cornered me.
ANGEL: And why do you think he did that?
ZAIRE: I don't know, something about gum.
ANGEL: Well, why do you keep gum in your trunks?
ZAIRE: I DIDN'T HAVE GUM!
ANGEL: Yes, Dulé! That anger, let it out and unleash it. Channel it into something you can use in your match tonight. Cass thought she could pull a fast one on you, but show her that they're the ones in danger.
Zaire's eyes fly open wide as he's struck with some kind of budget epiphany.
ZAIRE:I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. The guilt and the shame from that night...it's all gone. How did you do that?
Angel shushes Zaire and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
ANGEL: I'm a certified referee. That was only a taste of what I'm capable of. Tonight you and everyone else will see the other half. That ladder match for the Anarchy Championship will be the most fairly and impartially called match this company has ever seen.
When it's all said and done there should not even be a sliver of doubt in anyone's mind who retrieved the title. And just to make sure that the winner is truly deserving, I'm going to hang the title myself just so in such a way that only someone who knows what he's doing will be able to retrieve it.
ZAIRE:So you've gone and said all that, and now we're all just supposed to believe you won't try to take the Anarchy Championship for yourself?
ANGEL: How dare you...
Without another word, Angel drops the microphone and exits the ring in a huff, storming up the ramp in just a few, long strides.
krzy- Main Event Star!
- Posts : 3402
Join date : 2015-03-09
Re: Burned Cream
by Mr. Dashing Tue May 08, 2018 3:39 am
You're getting real good with this gfx stuff, looks awesome
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Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Mon May 14, 2018 9:12 pm
@lastlaughdz via twitter
----------
Finally got my revenge.
#revengeisadishbestservedcoldlikethebeeratmybarnowhalfoffthisweekincelebration
#youdontownthewordrevengeandrewssuckit
----------
Finally got my revenge.
#revengeisadishbestservedcoldlikethebeeratmybarnowhalfoffthisweekincelebration
#youdontownthewordrevengeandrewssuckit
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- Posts : 3402
Join date : 2015-03-09
Re: Burned Cream
by Mr. Dashing Tue May 15, 2018 2:14 am
Honestly thought Dule would complain about White saying that counted as a pin, lol
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Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Tue May 15, 2018 4:06 pm
I don't like how often you post in here
Your huge sig makes navigating on mobile miserable
Your huge sig makes navigating on mobile miserable
krzy- Main Event Star!
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Join date : 2015-03-09
Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Fri May 18, 2018 4:44 pm
ANGEL: Beautiful, isn't it?
The camera swings around Brett Angel, who's casually leaning against a wall in the hallway backstage, so that we may see what he does. And, boy, it's truly as advertised.
The crowd falls silent.
They're stunned.
Truly in awe at this sight, this masterpiece, this capturing of an incredible moment in CMV history. And then the first clap is heard. Then the second. And soon the thousands in attendance all join along, a rousing standing ovation as these people show their appreciation for being able to witness such a work of art without having their ticket prices raised. The camera cuts away from the arena where this is being shown on the titantron, and returns backstage so that Angel can be heard clearly. He breathes out with a contented sigh.
ANGEL: Feels like a lifetime ago, but, if I close my eyes, it's almost as if I'm back there, reliving that moment exactly as it happened. The crowd cheering, the cameras flashing, the world watching as I made history. They said I couldn't do it. They said something of this scope, of this magnitude, could never be accomplished in our lifetimes. "A wrestler putting ego and agenda aside to be a special guest referee? Impossible!"
Angel tsks while shaking his head.
ANGEL: How quickly they forget. I've built my career on the back of doing the impossible. That night was no different. If there was anyone who was going to break through that glass ceiling, and do what no other wrestler has done before, it was going to be me. That night I oversaw a war. For what felt like hours, I watched as two titans of this industry waged a battle the likes of which have never been seen before. Each strike shook the earth. Every slam left craters in the ground. All attempts to climb the ladder and grab that Anarchy Championship felt like a life or death decision with the odds always in death's favor. Still they took the gamble, but it could only pay off for one man.
Everyone expected me to strike when the competitor's were at their most vulnerable. It was a match between those two, yet they expected me to walk away with the championship. For shame. After everything I've gone through in that bootcamp--the sleepless nights, the awful food, the drill sergeant constantly blowing that whistle in my ear--to throw that all away and violate the referee code of honor...well that just isn't me. I have a new found respect for those men, a forgiveness for any errors that I wouldn't have had before this journey. Despite how easy I may have made being a referee look, it isn't.
Angel glances back at the framed picture--what looks to be a tear begins forming in the corner of his left eye.
ANGEL: A part of me wanted things to be like that forever. I was almost willing to throw my old life away as a wrestler and fully embrace the new me. The referee me. But I couldn't--not when there are still so many loose ends to tie up. Dulé and I still need to pay Kliq back for that twenty-seven second fiasco. And I've stopped counting, but I'm pretty sure I haven't won a single singles match on Genesis yet. At least one of things can be addressed tonight, while the other will come in due time. I knew a D'Angelo once, but he was no prince...and his hair wasn't as nice...
The sound of footsteps echoing in the hall catches Angel's attention. He turns with a smile thing it's Dulé Zaire, but instead he finds himself face to face with his opponent, D'Angelo St. Prince.
PRINCE: Brett, Brett, Brett. What happened to you? You couldn’t cut it as a wrestler anymore so you decided to try and cosplay as a ref? How bad is your attention addiction that you would sink to those levels just to stay relevant?
Angel tries to say something but prince cuts him off.
PRINCE: I wasn’t finished. When you are in the presence of royalty, you speak when you are spoken to. Do you understand, peasant? Multi-time champion, future 1st ballot hall of famer, one of the greatest superstars to ever step into a CMV ring. Now relegated to an insignificant referee, a shell of what he once was. A complete has-been who wasn’t able to defeat a man whose trombone solo lasted longer than his career, and that’s the man whom I’m facing tonight.
Prince takes a deep breath to calm himself down.
PRINCE: If that’s what has been written. Then let it be true. But I am warning you now. After tonight when I put you down. For your own legacy’s sake just stay down. I like you Brett, but you are nothing but an angel who has fallen from grace, and I would hate for what's left of your fans to have their last image of you be a broken pathetic version of the trash that you are now. After tonight you will bend the knee and respect you Prince. Or I’ll just have to leave your career in a worse state than she was....... See you in the ring champ.
Prince walks off, a look of confidence on his face. Angel's expression in turn is unreadable, even when Zaire actually walks over.
ZAIRE: What was that all about?
Angel looks at the framed pictured, then back at Zaire before sighing and shrugging.
ANGEL: Referees get no respect around here.
They walk off while Zaire excitedly tells Angel about how he layed himself down on Rhys Matthews' face.
The camera swings around Brett Angel, who's casually leaning against a wall in the hallway backstage, so that we may see what he does. And, boy, it's truly as advertised.
The crowd falls silent.
They're stunned.
Truly in awe at this sight, this masterpiece, this capturing of an incredible moment in CMV history. And then the first clap is heard. Then the second. And soon the thousands in attendance all join along, a rousing standing ovation as these people show their appreciation for being able to witness such a work of art without having their ticket prices raised. The camera cuts away from the arena where this is being shown on the titantron, and returns backstage so that Angel can be heard clearly. He breathes out with a contented sigh.
ANGEL: Feels like a lifetime ago, but, if I close my eyes, it's almost as if I'm back there, reliving that moment exactly as it happened. The crowd cheering, the cameras flashing, the world watching as I made history. They said I couldn't do it. They said something of this scope, of this magnitude, could never be accomplished in our lifetimes. "A wrestler putting ego and agenda aside to be a special guest referee? Impossible!"
Angel tsks while shaking his head.
ANGEL: How quickly they forget. I've built my career on the back of doing the impossible. That night was no different. If there was anyone who was going to break through that glass ceiling, and do what no other wrestler has done before, it was going to be me. That night I oversaw a war. For what felt like hours, I watched as two titans of this industry waged a battle the likes of which have never been seen before. Each strike shook the earth. Every slam left craters in the ground. All attempts to climb the ladder and grab that Anarchy Championship felt like a life or death decision with the odds always in death's favor. Still they took the gamble, but it could only pay off for one man.
Everyone expected me to strike when the competitor's were at their most vulnerable. It was a match between those two, yet they expected me to walk away with the championship. For shame. After everything I've gone through in that bootcamp--the sleepless nights, the awful food, the drill sergeant constantly blowing that whistle in my ear--to throw that all away and violate the referee code of honor...well that just isn't me. I have a new found respect for those men, a forgiveness for any errors that I wouldn't have had before this journey. Despite how easy I may have made being a referee look, it isn't.
Angel glances back at the framed picture--what looks to be a tear begins forming in the corner of his left eye.
ANGEL: A part of me wanted things to be like that forever. I was almost willing to throw my old life away as a wrestler and fully embrace the new me. The referee me. But I couldn't--not when there are still so many loose ends to tie up. Dulé and I still need to pay Kliq back for that twenty-seven second fiasco. And I've stopped counting, but I'm pretty sure I haven't won a single singles match on Genesis yet. At least one of things can be addressed tonight, while the other will come in due time. I knew a D'Angelo once, but he was no prince...and his hair wasn't as nice...
The sound of footsteps echoing in the hall catches Angel's attention. He turns with a smile thing it's Dulé Zaire, but instead he finds himself face to face with his opponent, D'Angelo St. Prince.
PRINCE: Brett, Brett, Brett. What happened to you? You couldn’t cut it as a wrestler anymore so you decided to try and cosplay as a ref? How bad is your attention addiction that you would sink to those levels just to stay relevant?
Angel tries to say something but prince cuts him off.
PRINCE: I wasn’t finished. When you are in the presence of royalty, you speak when you are spoken to. Do you understand, peasant? Multi-time champion, future 1st ballot hall of famer, one of the greatest superstars to ever step into a CMV ring. Now relegated to an insignificant referee, a shell of what he once was. A complete has-been who wasn’t able to defeat a man whose trombone solo lasted longer than his career, and that’s the man whom I’m facing tonight.
Prince takes a deep breath to calm himself down.
PRINCE: If that’s what has been written. Then let it be true. But I am warning you now. After tonight when I put you down. For your own legacy’s sake just stay down. I like you Brett, but you are nothing but an angel who has fallen from grace, and I would hate for what's left of your fans to have their last image of you be a broken pathetic version of the trash that you are now. After tonight you will bend the knee and respect you Prince. Or I’ll just have to leave your career in a worse state than she was....... See you in the ring champ.
Prince walks off, a look of confidence on his face. Angel's expression in turn is unreadable, even when Zaire actually walks over.
ZAIRE: What was that all about?
Angel looks at the framed pictured, then back at Zaire before sighing and shrugging.
ANGEL: Referees get no respect around here.
They walk off while Zaire excitedly tells Angel about how he layed himself down on Rhys Matthews' face.
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Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Thu May 24, 2018 8:22 pm
We're treated to the sight of Brulé hanging out in the lunchroom. They sit at the table, trays of food in front of them, getting a quick bite to eat during before the show goes live in a few hours. Zaire is eating a perfectly-toasted grilled cheese sandwich, of course accompanied by a hearty bowl of tomato soup, while Angel has an absurdly large bowl of a variety of French fries set in front of him. There are sweet potato fries, cajun seasoned, chili cheese, curly, funnel, garlic parmesan, baked -- Zaire reaches for one, but Angel slaps his hand away...then takes a fry and dips it into Zaire's soup.
ANGEL: All the damage you've done, and you want to push your luck even more?
ZAIRE: Look, I didn't think that you would actually take the bet. Who in their right mind would try to wrestle with a jacket on?
ANGEL: I was pretty damn close to winning too, but the jacket was so tight I couldn't quite hook Prince's leg, and that slimy bastard got one over on me.
ZAIRE: You really have to resort to insults? There was a time when you could take a loss with grace and good spirits. Where's that Brett Angel?
ANGEL: It's far from an insult, mostly. I don't know what he puts in his hair, but I'm still trying to wash it out of my hands.
To prove his point, Angel sticks the palm of his right hand into Zaire's face for a sniff test forcing Zaire to tilt his head in a variety of angles to keep his nostrils clear of the stench.
ZAIRE: Can't say I lost sleep over the way the bet played out; no way in hell was I ready to part with this magnificient beard.
Zaire casts an accusatory look in Angel's direction.
ANGEL: What?
ZAIRE: It's time we address the elephant in the room.
They turn simultaneously to the right and the combined might of their fiery stares makes the elephant uncomfortable enough to return from whence it came without further provocation.
ANGEL: How the--
ZAIRE: Don't change the subject--Why?
ANGEL: Why? I don't give a damn what you say; this mustache is working.
ZAIRE: It makes you look like you walked out of an 80's adult video shoot.
ANGEL: Hey, if this wrestling or refereeing thing doesn't work out, it's good to know I have options.
They laugh. Zaire because he actually found the statement funny. Angel to pretend he thinks it's funny while also making a mental note to return to that idea at a later date.
They eat in a serene silence, two brothers who've found themselves allied in a world where genuine friendships never seem to last. Through the downs and the ups, and the lefts and the rights, they've managed to stick together so that they may continue to forge their path to the top of the mountain. Odd as it may sound, they could almost stay like this forever, just two buddies going on their weekly adventures enjoying the good times and making the most out of the bad. But there's too much to do, too much to accomplish for them to rest on their laurels. Zaire is still looking for revenge for what happened to his bar; Angel constantly looking for what he lost when he made his way over to this side of CMV.
For now, they eat.
A piece of bread falls as Zaire takes a bite of his sandwich and before he can get to it, Angel slaps it out, because simply picking it out apparently wasn't an option. The crumb goes flying with incredible force until it strikes D'Angelo Prince in the chest so hard that he staggers back a few steps. There are about a dozen or so people other than these three in the cafeteria, and they all stop what they're doing, keeping their eyes on the scene, feeling that something is about to go down. A hush falls over the once busy room, so quiet you can hear Sons commentating NXT, as everyone waits to see how this will play out.
Prince wipes off his chest and glares and Angel seemingly in anger.
PRINCE: How dare you throw crumbs at me like I’m one of these bottom feeding peasants that chose to live in this god forsaken city. I am Royalty, dammit, and you will respect me as such you irrelevant waste of space.
D’Angelo steps back to calm himself down as this wasn’t the reason for his appearance.
PRINCE: You know what? I’ll let that one go, only for the reason that we are teammates tonight, and I need you to not screw this up. Which brings me to the reason I came, is this how you prepare for a match??? It’s beyond me how you became a champion with pre-match activities like this. No wonder you two didn’t win the titles.
ANGEL: Now hang on a second--
ZAIRE: What a cheap shot.
ANGEL: --or twenty-seven seconds, to be exact.
PRINCE: Excuses are all I’m hearing. Brett you may be stuck in your ways that worked in the yesteryear, but that’s not how things work anymore. Zaire, how’d you do in the invitational again?
ZAIRE: It’s been a while since I’ve had to do math, but if my calculations are correct….
He pulls out his phone and quickly delivers a succession of taps on the screen.
ZAIRE: ...I finished with the same record you did last year.
Prince is caught off guard as he is reminded about his own Cyborg Invitational failure in the past. He gives Dulé a death stare and then continues.
PRINCE: Anyways.... as for tonight, I’m the only one who has held gold this season, so that makes me the de facto leader. Those 3 have something that we want. Shay has my Anarchy title that he doesn’t deserve, and you two are in the hunt for tag team gold, right? Well the so-called good brothers are standing in your way. Plus Xander and I have some unfinished business to address. Just follow my lead, and don’t screw this up, ok? Because if either of you cost me what is mine... Well Dulé, that bar will be the least of your worries.
Prince pauses and looks back at Brett and then at the crumb from earlier.
PRINCE: Keep him in line. I’d hate for you to lose another partner in an “accident.”
Prince smirks and walks off.
ANGEL: What does he mean Shay doesn’t deserve the title? I was there...I saw him deserve it with my own two eyes.
ZAIRE: That’s what stood out to you? Not that I’m apparently gonna die in some acci--
He’s interrupted when Prince steps back into the frame.
PRINCE: By the way. It’s 100% Pure Jamaican Coconut Oil with a hint of Lemongrass. Keeps my hair in line and looking Royal.
Prince looks at the table and then at Brett, then back at the previously mentioned bowl of fries. Prince then proceeds to take a fry, dip it in Zaire’s soup, and he walks off.
PRINCE: And do something with that mustache, will you? Makes you look like you’re in the wrong business...
As the camera fades to black, we just barely catch Zaire giving Angel an “I told you so” look.
ANGEL: All the damage you've done, and you want to push your luck even more?
ZAIRE: Look, I didn't think that you would actually take the bet. Who in their right mind would try to wrestle with a jacket on?
ANGEL: I was pretty damn close to winning too, but the jacket was so tight I couldn't quite hook Prince's leg, and that slimy bastard got one over on me.
ZAIRE: You really have to resort to insults? There was a time when you could take a loss with grace and good spirits. Where's that Brett Angel?
ANGEL: It's far from an insult, mostly. I don't know what he puts in his hair, but I'm still trying to wash it out of my hands.
To prove his point, Angel sticks the palm of his right hand into Zaire's face for a sniff test forcing Zaire to tilt his head in a variety of angles to keep his nostrils clear of the stench.
ZAIRE: Can't say I lost sleep over the way the bet played out; no way in hell was I ready to part with this magnificient beard.
Zaire casts an accusatory look in Angel's direction.
ANGEL: What?
ZAIRE: It's time we address the elephant in the room.
They turn simultaneously to the right and the combined might of their fiery stares makes the elephant uncomfortable enough to return from whence it came without further provocation.
ANGEL: How the--
ZAIRE: Don't change the subject--Why?
ANGEL: Why? I don't give a damn what you say; this mustache is working.
ZAIRE: It makes you look like you walked out of an 80's adult video shoot.
ANGEL: Hey, if this wrestling or refereeing thing doesn't work out, it's good to know I have options.
They laugh. Zaire because he actually found the statement funny. Angel to pretend he thinks it's funny while also making a mental note to return to that idea at a later date.
They eat in a serene silence, two brothers who've found themselves allied in a world where genuine friendships never seem to last. Through the downs and the ups, and the lefts and the rights, they've managed to stick together so that they may continue to forge their path to the top of the mountain. Odd as it may sound, they could almost stay like this forever, just two buddies going on their weekly adventures enjoying the good times and making the most out of the bad. But there's too much to do, too much to accomplish for them to rest on their laurels. Zaire is still looking for revenge for what happened to his bar; Angel constantly looking for what he lost when he made his way over to this side of CMV.
For now, they eat.
A piece of bread falls as Zaire takes a bite of his sandwich and before he can get to it, Angel slaps it out, because simply picking it out apparently wasn't an option. The crumb goes flying with incredible force until it strikes D'Angelo Prince in the chest so hard that he staggers back a few steps. There are about a dozen or so people other than these three in the cafeteria, and they all stop what they're doing, keeping their eyes on the scene, feeling that something is about to go down. A hush falls over the once busy room, so quiet you can hear Sons commentating NXT, as everyone waits to see how this will play out.
Prince wipes off his chest and glares and Angel seemingly in anger.
PRINCE: How dare you throw crumbs at me like I’m one of these bottom feeding peasants that chose to live in this god forsaken city. I am Royalty, dammit, and you will respect me as such you irrelevant waste of space.
D’Angelo steps back to calm himself down as this wasn’t the reason for his appearance.
PRINCE: You know what? I’ll let that one go, only for the reason that we are teammates tonight, and I need you to not screw this up. Which brings me to the reason I came, is this how you prepare for a match??? It’s beyond me how you became a champion with pre-match activities like this. No wonder you two didn’t win the titles.
ANGEL: Now hang on a second--
ZAIRE: What a cheap shot.
ANGEL: --or twenty-seven seconds, to be exact.
PRINCE: Excuses are all I’m hearing. Brett you may be stuck in your ways that worked in the yesteryear, but that’s not how things work anymore. Zaire, how’d you do in the invitational again?
ZAIRE: It’s been a while since I’ve had to do math, but if my calculations are correct….
He pulls out his phone and quickly delivers a succession of taps on the screen.
ZAIRE: ...I finished with the same record you did last year.
Prince is caught off guard as he is reminded about his own Cyborg Invitational failure in the past. He gives Dulé a death stare and then continues.
PRINCE: Anyways.... as for tonight, I’m the only one who has held gold this season, so that makes me the de facto leader. Those 3 have something that we want. Shay has my Anarchy title that he doesn’t deserve, and you two are in the hunt for tag team gold, right? Well the so-called good brothers are standing in your way. Plus Xander and I have some unfinished business to address. Just follow my lead, and don’t screw this up, ok? Because if either of you cost me what is mine... Well Dulé, that bar will be the least of your worries.
Prince pauses and looks back at Brett and then at the crumb from earlier.
PRINCE: Keep him in line. I’d hate for you to lose another partner in an “accident.”
Prince smirks and walks off.
ANGEL: What does he mean Shay doesn’t deserve the title? I was there...I saw him deserve it with my own two eyes.
ZAIRE: That’s what stood out to you? Not that I’m apparently gonna die in some acci--
He’s interrupted when Prince steps back into the frame.
PRINCE: By the way. It’s 100% Pure Jamaican Coconut Oil with a hint of Lemongrass. Keeps my hair in line and looking Royal.
Prince looks at the table and then at Brett, then back at the previously mentioned bowl of fries. Prince then proceeds to take a fry, dip it in Zaire’s soup, and he walks off.
PRINCE: And do something with that mustache, will you? Makes you look like you’re in the wrong business...
As the camera fades to black, we just barely catch Zaire giving Angel an “I told you so” look.
krzy- Main Event Star!
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Join date : 2015-03-09
Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Wed Jun 06, 2018 12:33 am
The cameras cut away to backstage where Brulé can be seen preparing for their match later on in the show against a duo with no equals: Vintage.
Angel is pacing back and forth completely lost in his own thoughts, while Zaire casually leans against a wall, tapping away at his phone. Whatever's on his screen has his eyes open wide. He shakes his head and tucks the phone into the back of his trunks. He speaks out loud, his words intended for nobody in particular.
ZAIRE: I've been telling y'all: Slate is a punk. Destroying bars, this time a marriage. Shit, now I gotta call my wife and tell her, again, that what Rhys did was unprovoked, unsolicited and his feelings are unrequited. Let's be honest, I could do way better than him.
The easy alley oop set up for an Angel joke goes ignored, the ball flies out of bounds and somewhere into the stands. Zaire looks up, sees that Angel state of being hasn't really changed for however long they've been there. The Laugh walks over to his tag partner and places a hand on his shoulder. Angel snaps around, and it takes a moment for his wild-eyes gaze to transform into an expression that, at the very least, gives some kind of impression of sanity.
ANGEL: Watch this--
Angel turns to face the camera with a disarming smile on his face.
ANGEL: I am--
Those two words are all Angel has to say before the crowd picks up from where he left off. Even after all this time, the saying has clearly resonated with the CMV fanbase to the point where it's completely etched into their memories. When they finish, Angel is still smirking, his satisfaction written all over his face.
ANGEL: Those words will follow me for the rest of my life. The good and the bad that I've done in my life--the triumphs and low points in my career--every decision and misstep that brought me from UnMatched to Genesis, they all define me. And it's funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Everybody thinks that Brett Angel is washed up, that I'm a joke, that I simply can't quite get it done anymore. They think that until they need a hero--until they need their asses pulled up out of the grave they dug for themselves. You think I called myself an outcast because I needed something cute printed on a t-shirt?
Angel smirks and shrugs.
ANGEL: Yes, but "outcast" was also a word that cut right to the point. I've never felt like I belonged on Genesis; I still don't. You and I, Dulé -- we exist on the fringes, watching as everyone else gets the acknowledgment, the accolades, the praise, the appreciation when we've busted our asses and work twice as hard only for our efforts to get swept under the rug. We walk on water to the sound of crickets while the rest have their asses kissed for swimming in the shallow end of the pool and not drowning.
But see we don't brag about it. We don't tweet about it, and it's partly our fault because it's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. It's the people who have to tell you that they're great again and again and AGAIN -- like broken records with no other material to work with -- who brainwash people into thinking that they may be onto something. It's the insecure and the petty who have to tear other people down because they don't have two legs, their own merits, to stand on. You know why I let people like D'Angelo St. Prince talk and walk away and then wrestle him with a hat and jacket on?
ZAIRE: Because you can't turn down a bet?
ANGEL: Because I don't give a damn about what he thinks. I didn't become who I am by listening to what other people say. While he can tell me who I lost to on the sixteenth of December and that it was a full moon and the Yankees lost three-five to the Red Sox and I had a slice of pizza and warm water for dinner, it's still a privilege for him to get into that ring with me. Give me a few months, and when I'm Alpha Champion, Prince will be in NGW telling the youngins about the time he beat Brett Angel.
And what will truly be the insult to me is when, just like Rubik, he can't make use of the victory and catapult his way to bigger and better things. The Anarchy Championship will be the peak of his career. Then he'll fade into obscurity, only to become the next faceless name to be used against me when somebody desperately needs to land a cheap shot.
ZAIRE: Instead of "you lost to a guy whose trombone solo lasted longer than his career," for Prince they'll change it to: "you lost to a guy whose hair was longer than his championship reigns."
Zaire can’t help but laugh at his own joke, and Angel is kind enough to give him a second to cool down.
ANGEL: And the cycle will continue for an eternity as the Joe Schmoes trip over each other to replace themselves because I WILL outlive every naysayer and "damning" piece of criticism. I'm the sleeping giant, and people in the locker room are taking turns trying to see who will be the one stupidest enough to wake me up. But what they don't get is that it will take a hell of a lot more than words and insulting my dead fiancee to get a rise out of me. My flaws and the chinks in my armor are all out there, I don't shy away or run from them. I've heard it all before.
If snark and punchlines were all it took to get to the top, Ziegler would be the most decorated champion in CMV history, instead he's the only one on Team Fusion to get eliminated at Coming Home.
ZAIRE: Yeah, you think he'd be the last one standing on a squad with Kiteley--
ANGEL: Did you see his hair?
ZAIRE: Don't. Pierre Thompson was also on the team.
ANGEL: Who?
ZAIRE: And Andrew Briggs.
ANGEL: Who?!
CROWD: Cares!
ZAIRE: Amber's brother.
ANGEL: Right. She's doing really well for herself these days, co-main event of Implosion even. Good for her.
ZAIRE: It's all just pretty sad when you look at who Genesis sent into battle. There's Wolf, who has more impressive tweets than matches. Valentine, who can't buy a win or decent wardrobe. Reed, who apparently bleeds yellow but won't get it checked out by a doctor. And then there's Ortiz, who has had such a bad attitude lately that we'd ask what's stuck up his ass, but we can't say that to him specifically because it may be perceived as offensive since he's, you know....
There’s a pause and they exchange a look.
ANGEL: Ugly.
ZAIRE: Right. And in all that chaos and dysfunction they never once gave us a call to invite us onto the team. Instead we were the backups, apparently, the B-team who weren't considered until the eleventh hour when they thought they'd throw a hail Mary. Which was rich coming from Wolf when he played me by saying he'd rather face you in the invitational.
ANGEL: I don't blame him. The way I see it, Reed and his goons did us a favor by keeping us out of that match. I've been through this with UnMatched already. They tried to move past me. Tried to act like it could survive without Brett Angel--until someone had to step up and defend the brand's honor against Intensity. And just who did the brand lean on to save it? Who was the last man standing in the end? You're looking at him. And, like leeches, once they got what they needed out of me, once I bled and sweat everything and shed my last tear, I was cast out.
With the way Genesis parades everyone else as the next big thing, but treats poor Brett Angel as an inconvenience, history was bound to repeat itself at Home Coming, as Bret Angel--
ZAIRE: --and friend--
ANGEL: --saved the day as usual when the “next big things” couldn’t pull their weight. Or maybe it would have been a clean sweep in Fusion’s favor.
Zaire nods his head in agreement as though he had no problem envisioning that possibility.
ZAIRE: Thanks to Reed, I guess we’ll never know.
ANGEL: Our gift to you and your friends, Reed, is this calm before the storm. The ends don’t quite justify the means.
ZAIRE: If you asked us nicely, you might have gotten the same results. We could have called out sick. I have a great fake cough.
He coughs.
ANGEL: Or at least bribed us under the table with some Shari’s Berries. The white chocolate is to die for.
ZAIRE: Two gold-dipped roses from Steven Singer--or I guess just one, I know times are tough for you.
ANGEL: Some broadway tickets would have been nice. I’ve been hearing great things about Dear Evan Hansen.
ZAIRE: Forget spending your money on that, pay the baby sitter and you would have been good in my books.
ANGEL: So many paths you could have taken, but you chose the wrong one. And it’s gonna cost you.
ZAIRE: But tonight we deal with Vintage, two men, despite all odds, who have come together to form one of the toughest tandems this side of CMV.
ANGEL: Everyone doubted you Jefe, but you showed that you can hang with the best. I even took some notes on how to win a match that I’ll be sure to study back in my hotel room.
ZAIRE: Whether the people want to believe it or not, you two are the team to beat, and when Brett and I win the tag team championships, there’s no doubt that you’ll end up being one of our toughest challengers for years to come. Might as well get a feel for you tonight.
Angel makes a face.
ANGEL: A feel and a sniff. Do you see how dirty that shirt is Bacon wears?
ZAIRE: Maybe that’s the key.
ANGEL: Well, I don’t wanna be the guinea pig.
ZAIRE: Point is, Vintage, that we know you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve. We know that El Jefe is operating on a different level since the rumble, that loss at Home Coming be damned. And we know Joey Bacon will fucking eat us if we’re not careful, but we’re still going to go out there, and we’re gonna bring the fight to you, and one way or another we’re gonna take you down.
ANGEL: Let’s make no bones about it, this is our toughest challenge to date--the biggest obstacle we’ll have to find a way to overcome--and we are gonna find that way. If we’re able to push ourselves and get past Vintage then those tag team championships are the next logical step. Kliq has been slipping through our fingers too many times now, and they know the writing is on the wall. At some point that luck is gonna run out. There’s was the twenty-seven second catastrophe.
ZAIRE: The partner swap fiasco.
ANGEL: Prince falling asleep in the corner tomfoolery.
ZAIRE: You can’t fun forever, boys.
ANGEL: If you try, I bet it won’t take long for us to catch up. Those titles will be ours sooner rather than later or our name isn’t--
CROWD: Brulé!
Angel sighs and walks off. Instead of following, Zaire pulls out his phone again, presumably to watch that bombshell video that was dropped earlier in the night.
ZAIRE: See, that’s why I shower at home.
Angel is pacing back and forth completely lost in his own thoughts, while Zaire casually leans against a wall, tapping away at his phone. Whatever's on his screen has his eyes open wide. He shakes his head and tucks the phone into the back of his trunks. He speaks out loud, his words intended for nobody in particular.
ZAIRE: I've been telling y'all: Slate is a punk. Destroying bars, this time a marriage. Shit, now I gotta call my wife and tell her, again, that what Rhys did was unprovoked, unsolicited and his feelings are unrequited. Let's be honest, I could do way better than him.
The easy alley oop set up for an Angel joke goes ignored, the ball flies out of bounds and somewhere into the stands. Zaire looks up, sees that Angel state of being hasn't really changed for however long they've been there. The Laugh walks over to his tag partner and places a hand on his shoulder. Angel snaps around, and it takes a moment for his wild-eyes gaze to transform into an expression that, at the very least, gives some kind of impression of sanity.
ANGEL: Watch this--
Angel turns to face the camera with a disarming smile on his face.
ANGEL: I am--
Those two words are all Angel has to say before the crowd picks up from where he left off. Even after all this time, the saying has clearly resonated with the CMV fanbase to the point where it's completely etched into their memories. When they finish, Angel is still smirking, his satisfaction written all over his face.
ANGEL: Those words will follow me for the rest of my life. The good and the bad that I've done in my life--the triumphs and low points in my career--every decision and misstep that brought me from UnMatched to Genesis, they all define me. And it's funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Everybody thinks that Brett Angel is washed up, that I'm a joke, that I simply can't quite get it done anymore. They think that until they need a hero--until they need their asses pulled up out of the grave they dug for themselves. You think I called myself an outcast because I needed something cute printed on a t-shirt?
Angel smirks and shrugs.
ANGEL: Yes, but "outcast" was also a word that cut right to the point. I've never felt like I belonged on Genesis; I still don't. You and I, Dulé -- we exist on the fringes, watching as everyone else gets the acknowledgment, the accolades, the praise, the appreciation when we've busted our asses and work twice as hard only for our efforts to get swept under the rug. We walk on water to the sound of crickets while the rest have their asses kissed for swimming in the shallow end of the pool and not drowning.
But see we don't brag about it. We don't tweet about it, and it's partly our fault because it's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. It's the people who have to tell you that they're great again and again and AGAIN -- like broken records with no other material to work with -- who brainwash people into thinking that they may be onto something. It's the insecure and the petty who have to tear other people down because they don't have two legs, their own merits, to stand on. You know why I let people like D'Angelo St. Prince talk and walk away and then wrestle him with a hat and jacket on?
ZAIRE: Because you can't turn down a bet?
ANGEL: Because I don't give a damn about what he thinks. I didn't become who I am by listening to what other people say. While he can tell me who I lost to on the sixteenth of December and that it was a full moon and the Yankees lost three-five to the Red Sox and I had a slice of pizza and warm water for dinner, it's still a privilege for him to get into that ring with me. Give me a few months, and when I'm Alpha Champion, Prince will be in NGW telling the youngins about the time he beat Brett Angel.
And what will truly be the insult to me is when, just like Rubik, he can't make use of the victory and catapult his way to bigger and better things. The Anarchy Championship will be the peak of his career. Then he'll fade into obscurity, only to become the next faceless name to be used against me when somebody desperately needs to land a cheap shot.
ZAIRE: Instead of "you lost to a guy whose trombone solo lasted longer than his career," for Prince they'll change it to: "you lost to a guy whose hair was longer than his championship reigns."
Zaire can’t help but laugh at his own joke, and Angel is kind enough to give him a second to cool down.
ANGEL: And the cycle will continue for an eternity as the Joe Schmoes trip over each other to replace themselves because I WILL outlive every naysayer and "damning" piece of criticism. I'm the sleeping giant, and people in the locker room are taking turns trying to see who will be the one stupidest enough to wake me up. But what they don't get is that it will take a hell of a lot more than words and insulting my dead fiancee to get a rise out of me. My flaws and the chinks in my armor are all out there, I don't shy away or run from them. I've heard it all before.
If snark and punchlines were all it took to get to the top, Ziegler would be the most decorated champion in CMV history, instead he's the only one on Team Fusion to get eliminated at Coming Home.
ZAIRE: Yeah, you think he'd be the last one standing on a squad with Kiteley--
ANGEL: Did you see his hair?
ZAIRE: Don't. Pierre Thompson was also on the team.
ANGEL: Who?
ZAIRE: And Andrew Briggs.
ANGEL: Who?!
CROWD: Cares!
ZAIRE: Amber's brother.
ANGEL: Right. She's doing really well for herself these days, co-main event of Implosion even. Good for her.
ZAIRE: It's all just pretty sad when you look at who Genesis sent into battle. There's Wolf, who has more impressive tweets than matches. Valentine, who can't buy a win or decent wardrobe. Reed, who apparently bleeds yellow but won't get it checked out by a doctor. And then there's Ortiz, who has had such a bad attitude lately that we'd ask what's stuck up his ass, but we can't say that to him specifically because it may be perceived as offensive since he's, you know....
There’s a pause and they exchange a look.
ANGEL: Ugly.
ZAIRE: Right. And in all that chaos and dysfunction they never once gave us a call to invite us onto the team. Instead we were the backups, apparently, the B-team who weren't considered until the eleventh hour when they thought they'd throw a hail Mary. Which was rich coming from Wolf when he played me by saying he'd rather face you in the invitational.
ANGEL: I don't blame him. The way I see it, Reed and his goons did us a favor by keeping us out of that match. I've been through this with UnMatched already. They tried to move past me. Tried to act like it could survive without Brett Angel--until someone had to step up and defend the brand's honor against Intensity. And just who did the brand lean on to save it? Who was the last man standing in the end? You're looking at him. And, like leeches, once they got what they needed out of me, once I bled and sweat everything and shed my last tear, I was cast out.
With the way Genesis parades everyone else as the next big thing, but treats poor Brett Angel as an inconvenience, history was bound to repeat itself at Home Coming, as Bret Angel--
ZAIRE: --and friend--
ANGEL: --saved the day as usual when the “next big things” couldn’t pull their weight. Or maybe it would have been a clean sweep in Fusion’s favor.
Zaire nods his head in agreement as though he had no problem envisioning that possibility.
ZAIRE: Thanks to Reed, I guess we’ll never know.
ANGEL: Our gift to you and your friends, Reed, is this calm before the storm. The ends don’t quite justify the means.
ZAIRE: If you asked us nicely, you might have gotten the same results. We could have called out sick. I have a great fake cough.
He coughs.
ANGEL: Or at least bribed us under the table with some Shari’s Berries. The white chocolate is to die for.
ZAIRE: Two gold-dipped roses from Steven Singer--or I guess just one, I know times are tough for you.
ANGEL: Some broadway tickets would have been nice. I’ve been hearing great things about Dear Evan Hansen.
ZAIRE: Forget spending your money on that, pay the baby sitter and you would have been good in my books.
ANGEL: So many paths you could have taken, but you chose the wrong one. And it’s gonna cost you.
ZAIRE: But tonight we deal with Vintage, two men, despite all odds, who have come together to form one of the toughest tandems this side of CMV.
ANGEL: Everyone doubted you Jefe, but you showed that you can hang with the best. I even took some notes on how to win a match that I’ll be sure to study back in my hotel room.
ZAIRE: Whether the people want to believe it or not, you two are the team to beat, and when Brett and I win the tag team championships, there’s no doubt that you’ll end up being one of our toughest challengers for years to come. Might as well get a feel for you tonight.
Angel makes a face.
ANGEL: A feel and a sniff. Do you see how dirty that shirt is Bacon wears?
ZAIRE: Maybe that’s the key.
ANGEL: Well, I don’t wanna be the guinea pig.
ZAIRE: Point is, Vintage, that we know you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve. We know that El Jefe is operating on a different level since the rumble, that loss at Home Coming be damned. And we know Joey Bacon will fucking eat us if we’re not careful, but we’re still going to go out there, and we’re gonna bring the fight to you, and one way or another we’re gonna take you down.
ANGEL: Let’s make no bones about it, this is our toughest challenge to date--the biggest obstacle we’ll have to find a way to overcome--and we are gonna find that way. If we’re able to push ourselves and get past Vintage then those tag team championships are the next logical step. Kliq has been slipping through our fingers too many times now, and they know the writing is on the wall. At some point that luck is gonna run out. There’s was the twenty-seven second catastrophe.
ZAIRE: The partner swap fiasco.
ANGEL: Prince falling asleep in the corner tomfoolery.
ZAIRE: You can’t fun forever, boys.
ANGEL: If you try, I bet it won’t take long for us to catch up. Those titles will be ours sooner rather than later or our name isn’t--
CROWD: Brulé!
Angel sighs and walks off. Instead of following, Zaire pulls out his phone again, presumably to watch that bombshell video that was dropped earlier in the night.
ZAIRE: See, that’s why I shower at home.
krzy- Main Event Star!
- Posts : 3402
Join date : 2015-03-09
Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Thu Aug 23, 2018 8:48 pm
As Genesis goes live, the cameras cut backstage to the sight of Dulé Zaire and Brett Angel hanging out and doing Brulé stuff that they do when they think no one is looking.
ZAIRE: Feels good, doesn't it? Finally, on the grandest stage of them all, we showed up, beat the holy hell out of Kliq, and got that sweet, sweet paycheck--that I'll have to put into fixing my bar. Again. But that's neither here nor there. [/b]
ANGEL: Right. All that matters here and there is that we got those monkeys off of our backs and brought this season series to a competitive one and six. Five more wins like that, and we're looking at a tie.
ZAIRE: Always gotta be a glass half empty kinda guy, huh? In my everlasting optimism, I can't help but look at the situation like this: six more ass-kickings, and we win the whole shebang.
ANGEL: There's nothing quite like a best of eleven series to really keep the people on the edge of their seats.
ZAIRE: It's a damn shame that Borton is out with the flu, putting our beef with them on the backburner.
ANGEL: Truly a shame what happened to him.
ZAIRE: An immense loss for CMV.
ANGEL: Tragic.
ZAIRE: I cried. Haven't slept a wink since.
ANGEL: Why must bad things happen to good people?
ZAIRE: It's only right that we try to organize a Borton Battle Royal in his memory.
ANGEL: I may never look at milk the same way again. Moment of silence, please.
They bow their heads, and the silence lasts for about half a second before Zaire and Angel begin whisper singing. After around 30 seconds of the beautiful, breathy harmonizing, Angel sighs deeply, and the duo raise their heads.
ANGEL: Thank you; thank you.
ZAIRE: And ain't it funny how quick Slate replaced his Good Brother? My man's body wasn't even cold before they had Sullivan trotting out as their adopted sibling.
ANGEL: Who?
ZAIRE: Not to mention that Reese is still acting like he ain't got no damn sense.
ANGEL: Who?!
CROWD: CARES!
ZAIRE: Worst of all: we don't even have a third to tag along with us to get those trios titles off of their waits.
ANGEL: Which leaves us to wonder what comes next for Brett Angel and Dulé Zaire.
ZAIRE: Zaire and Angel.
CROWD: BRULÉ!!
ANGEL: Hey! We can hear you all from back here! Don't call us that!
ZAIRE: I don't know about you, but I've gotten my ass beat over the tag team championships to tide me over for a good long while. So while you do, I don't know, whatever Brett Angel does when he's not holding me back, I've got my eyes on the Light Heavyweight Championship.
ANGEL: The Light Heavyweight Championship?
ZAIRE: It's not as crazy as it sounds. Peep this.
Zaire pulls off his hat revealing a freshly shaven head, mohawk a distant memory. Angel squints while using his hand to shield his eyes, but he's eventually forced to completely turn his head away.
ZAIRE: Yeah, yeah get your laughs in. You try having two kids.
ANGEL: I'm thinking that if you sent the beard packing too, you'd stand a better chance of making the weight limit.
ZAIRE: Let's not get carried away here.
ANGEL: You're aiming too low, anyway. Look at you. You're a star in the making. Let's not discount the fact that you've been hanging out all year with the one and only Brett Angel, the guy who was the hottest act in wrestling...
Angel flips his wrist over to check the time on a watch he isn't wearing.
ANGEL: ...five years ago. That has to count for something. You're telling me after all this time, none of me has rubbed off on you?
ZAIRE: Now hold on a second with that phrasing--
ANGEL: There's a chamber coming up. You march your light Heavyweight ass into Cass' office and tell her that you want in. Take a gamble on the fact that she may not be able to find four better wrestlers on such short notice.
ZAIRE: And pray that she forgets that I lost to Wolf in the Invitational?
ANGEL: Who...
CROWD: Cares!
ANGEL: ...cares? In fact, that works in your favor. Call it getting Ortiz'd. Just to be certain, though, you gotta butter her up a little. Ask her if she did something with her hair.
ZAIRE: Or if she went back in time recently.
ANGEL: Tell her that there are worse sons than Tim.
ZAIRE: Are there? There's sweet talking, and then there's just outright lying.
ANGEL: I mean...there has to be, right? Rhys goes around giving sermons about the evils of gum and groping people...
ZAIRE: I thought we weren't gonna bring that up anymore.
A fabricated tense second passes between them.
ZAIRE: But while we're on the subject--Brandon's been worse then I've ever seen him.
An actual tense second passes between them.
ANGEL: It may have been hard to tell, but I'm not the biggest fan of alcoholics.
An incredibly tense second passes between them. Zaire stands, turns to look at Angel, lips curled down into a frown.
ZAIRE: You can be a selfish prick sometimes, you know that.
The tensions incredibly thick now. Angel stands up, but doesn't meet Zaire's piercing glare.
ZAIRE: Look, I didn't mean...
ANGEL: Yeah.
Angel walks off, and Zaire doesn't follow. The bar owner swears under his breath heads in the opposite direction.
ZAIRE: Feels good, doesn't it? Finally, on the grandest stage of them all, we showed up, beat the holy hell out of Kliq, and got that sweet, sweet paycheck--that I'll have to put into fixing my bar. Again. But that's neither here nor there. [/b]
ANGEL: Right. All that matters here and there is that we got those monkeys off of our backs and brought this season series to a competitive one and six. Five more wins like that, and we're looking at a tie.
ZAIRE: Always gotta be a glass half empty kinda guy, huh? In my everlasting optimism, I can't help but look at the situation like this: six more ass-kickings, and we win the whole shebang.
ANGEL: There's nothing quite like a best of eleven series to really keep the people on the edge of their seats.
ZAIRE: It's a damn shame that Borton is out with the flu, putting our beef with them on the backburner.
ANGEL: Truly a shame what happened to him.
ZAIRE: An immense loss for CMV.
ANGEL: Tragic.
ZAIRE: I cried. Haven't slept a wink since.
ANGEL: Why must bad things happen to good people?
ZAIRE: It's only right that we try to organize a Borton Battle Royal in his memory.
ANGEL: I may never look at milk the same way again. Moment of silence, please.
They bow their heads, and the silence lasts for about half a second before Zaire and Angel begin whisper singing. After around 30 seconds of the beautiful, breathy harmonizing, Angel sighs deeply, and the duo raise their heads.
ANGEL: Thank you; thank you.
ZAIRE: And ain't it funny how quick Slate replaced his Good Brother? My man's body wasn't even cold before they had Sullivan trotting out as their adopted sibling.
ANGEL: Who?
ZAIRE: Not to mention that Reese is still acting like he ain't got no damn sense.
ANGEL: Who?!
CROWD: CARES!
ZAIRE: Worst of all: we don't even have a third to tag along with us to get those trios titles off of their waits.
ANGEL: Which leaves us to wonder what comes next for Brett Angel and Dulé Zaire.
ZAIRE: Zaire and Angel.
CROWD: BRULÉ!!
ANGEL: Hey! We can hear you all from back here! Don't call us that!
ZAIRE: I don't know about you, but I've gotten my ass beat over the tag team championships to tide me over for a good long while. So while you do, I don't know, whatever Brett Angel does when he's not holding me back, I've got my eyes on the Light Heavyweight Championship.
ANGEL: The Light Heavyweight Championship?
ZAIRE: It's not as crazy as it sounds. Peep this.
Zaire pulls off his hat revealing a freshly shaven head, mohawk a distant memory. Angel squints while using his hand to shield his eyes, but he's eventually forced to completely turn his head away.
ZAIRE: Yeah, yeah get your laughs in. You try having two kids.
ANGEL: I'm thinking that if you sent the beard packing too, you'd stand a better chance of making the weight limit.
ZAIRE: Let's not get carried away here.
ANGEL: You're aiming too low, anyway. Look at you. You're a star in the making. Let's not discount the fact that you've been hanging out all year with the one and only Brett Angel, the guy who was the hottest act in wrestling...
Angel flips his wrist over to check the time on a watch he isn't wearing.
ANGEL: ...five years ago. That has to count for something. You're telling me after all this time, none of me has rubbed off on you?
ZAIRE: Now hold on a second with that phrasing--
ANGEL: There's a chamber coming up. You march your light Heavyweight ass into Cass' office and tell her that you want in. Take a gamble on the fact that she may not be able to find four better wrestlers on such short notice.
ZAIRE: And pray that she forgets that I lost to Wolf in the Invitational?
ANGEL: Who...
CROWD: Cares!
ANGEL: ...cares? In fact, that works in your favor. Call it getting Ortiz'd. Just to be certain, though, you gotta butter her up a little. Ask her if she did something with her hair.
ZAIRE: Or if she went back in time recently.
ANGEL: Tell her that there are worse sons than Tim.
ZAIRE: Are there? There's sweet talking, and then there's just outright lying.
ANGEL: I mean...there has to be, right? Rhys goes around giving sermons about the evils of gum and groping people...
ZAIRE: I thought we weren't gonna bring that up anymore.
A fabricated tense second passes between them.
ZAIRE: But while we're on the subject--Brandon's been worse then I've ever seen him.
An actual tense second passes between them.
ANGEL: It may have been hard to tell, but I'm not the biggest fan of alcoholics.
An incredibly tense second passes between them. Zaire stands, turns to look at Angel, lips curled down into a frown.
ZAIRE: You can be a selfish prick sometimes, you know that.
The tensions incredibly thick now. Angel stands up, but doesn't meet Zaire's piercing glare.
ZAIRE: Look, I didn't mean...
ANGEL: Yeah.
Angel walks off, and Zaire doesn't follow. The bar owner swears under his breath heads in the opposite direction.
krzy- Main Event Star!
- Posts : 3402
Join date : 2015-03-09
Re: Burned Cream
by krzy Fri Sep 14, 2018 10:56 pm
This CMV online exclusive details what went down after Brett Angel and … well, a man once endearingly called the Black Gael … crossed paths on Fusion after the man’s vicious attack on yet another wrestler who had hopes that he’d make a big splash by bypassing NGW.
There’s a tense moment after they bump shoulders.
They lock eyes.
No words are spoken.
It’s Angel’s body language that defuses the situation. Arms raised. Defense. Backing up with slow shakes of his head. On one hand, it’s a smart career decision to not engage Rayne when he’s in such a state. On the flip side, if there’s anyone who should be able to stand up to him, it should be Brett Angel.
Ironically, much like Rayne, Angel hasn’t been feeling himself lately...except his change has sent him on a downward spiral heading in a different direction.
Angel turns the corner, leaving Rayne in his rearview mirror. The former World Champion turns a corner, and bumps right into the man he was looking for: Fusion’s general manager.
ANGEL: Hey, I…
GM: Look, Brett, on any other day I’d love to stay and chat, but I was just on my way out to check on this Wolverine Justice situation.
ANGEL: Right, this will be quick. Things on Genesis haven’t quite gone the way I’ve planned, and I figured the only place I have left to leave my mark is here.
GM: Any other time I’d whip out the contract right now for you to sign. Thing is, we just had two blockbuster signings in Jason Spade and Shay Hoxton. Not to mention the “Straight to Fusion” initiative I’ve been running, that I’m confident will still work out despite what Brandon Rayne is doing. We simply don’t have the space on the roster for someone like you at the moment.
ANGEL: Someone like me?
GM: Someone who…
The General Manager’s voice trails off, but Angel isn’t about to let him off the hook by letting the silence fill in the blanks.
ANGEL: Someone whose best days are in the past? Or someone with too much baggage for you to handle?
GM: I gotta take care of this, all right? Maybe a few months down the line we can talk again.
There’s a tense moment after they bump shoulders.
They lock eyes.
No words are spoken.
It’s Angel’s body language that defuses the situation. Arms raised. Defense. Backing up with slow shakes of his head. On one hand, it’s a smart career decision to not engage Rayne when he’s in such a state. On the flip side, if there’s anyone who should be able to stand up to him, it should be Brett Angel.
Ironically, much like Rayne, Angel hasn’t been feeling himself lately...except his change has sent him on a downward spiral heading in a different direction.
Angel turns the corner, leaving Rayne in his rearview mirror. The former World Champion turns a corner, and bumps right into the man he was looking for: Fusion’s general manager.
ANGEL: Hey, I…
GM: Look, Brett, on any other day I’d love to stay and chat, but I was just on my way out to check on this Wolverine Justice situation.
ANGEL: Right, this will be quick. Things on Genesis haven’t quite gone the way I’ve planned, and I figured the only place I have left to leave my mark is here.
GM: Any other time I’d whip out the contract right now for you to sign. Thing is, we just had two blockbuster signings in Jason Spade and Shay Hoxton. Not to mention the “Straight to Fusion” initiative I’ve been running, that I’m confident will still work out despite what Brandon Rayne is doing. We simply don’t have the space on the roster for someone like you at the moment.
ANGEL: Someone like me?
GM: Someone who…
The General Manager’s voice trails off, but Angel isn’t about to let him off the hook by letting the silence fill in the blanks.
ANGEL: Someone whose best days are in the past? Or someone with too much baggage for you to handle?
GM: I gotta take care of this, all right? Maybe a few months down the line we can talk again.
krzy- Main Event Star!
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Join date : 2015-03-09
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