Post by Aubrey J. Parker on Oct 29, 2011 13:34:50 GMT -5
The sky is illuminated, an odd tint of red. It is clearly nighttime, stars visible in the distance and a large half-moon visible beyond the horizon. Our scenery is indistinguishable at first, because of a thick, inexplicable fog.
We change angles soon, and the scene appears to be cinematic-- clearly shot in such a style for the sole purpose of this vignette; the scene becomes clear within moments. We are in the woods. It was the recipient of a heavy downpour recently, evident by the shining mud and the thick puddles. We hear footsteps, faint at first, though they soon become more and more pronounced.
They slap and smash through the mud and the damp leaves that cover the ground. Soon, brown boots, covered in dirt and muck pop into the frame. One foot, and then the other, standing in the brown sludge-like slop, dark blue jeans hugging his legs. We cannot tell much about the individual from what we are given, visually-- we can assume that he is a man, judging by his stance and his composure. But soon, he moves toward the camera, obscuring our view entirely, before we blink out to black.
"Can you believe this? I mean, I heard rumors and speculation but I didn't... I didn't think it would actually happen."
"I didn't doubt it. Weirder things have happened."
"Sure, but it was just so out of nowhere. It's not the right time for this. Not here, anyway."
"Yeah? Well. Expect anything and everything... I think it's a pretty good motto to live by."
Video meets audio as the figures of the number one contender for ACW's World Women's Championship, Aubrey J. Parker is shown standing with her arms folded-- she is dressed in a plain, form-fitting, gray tee. She is waiting patiently for the owner of the other voice-- one Tyler Harrison to join her. And within seconds, he does, dressed a lot more casually than he has been seen as of late. He's wearing signature Aubrey J. Parker merchandise, a white t-shirt that reads "AJP or DIE" in crimson letters, over a black-and-white image of the face of Amy Zing, contorted in agony. We can gather that both individuals are in pajama pants, comfortable in their setting.
Tyler holds two steaming mugs of hot chocolate-- their presence only significant due to the scene that we behold next. As Tyler moves past Parker and the two make their way through the familiar house and into a large, warm-colored room, we see a large, open window on the far wall. We see a mixture of rain and snow hitting the glass, the sound intensified due to the wind.
"I don't like the whole idea that everything should work on this sort of clock. Like... The snow in the Mid-Atlantic. Yeah, it's a bit strange but I've learned to just accept it. I don't question it. I prepare myself for it the best that I can and I find a way to excel in the situation. In this case? Organic hot chocolate..."
Tyler looks up as he hands Parker one of the mugs, which she gladly accepts. Judging by the scenery around the room which includes paintings signed by Tyler and pictures of the Harrison family, we are in Tyler Harrison's home in Maryland. Tyler's look toward Parker, however, is expectant, as if he knows that she intends to continue.
"And then there are the people that talk about Dahlia and how this is her time. This is once again her time to carry the women's division and step up as one of the main faces of American Championship Wrestling... I've seen everything that she's been doing... The charity work, the commercials, the events, all the Katy Perry and the kids and the..."
Parker waves, dismissively, as if suggesting that the rest of what Dahlia did was unimportant.
"I think that's all cool. I'm all for supporting the kids and the teenage dream and all that good stuff but unfortunately, those children will not be able to reach out and touch the World Women's Championship. Not unless I'm the one visiting them. Because I'm taking back what was ripped right out of my hands, Tyler. I promise I'm gonna hurt her to get it back."
We return to the cinematic scene that was just moments ago inside of a woodland area. Though it is raining here as well, we are in the suburbs. There are very few houses that actually have their interior lights powered on, though porch lights and spot lights illuminate random parts of the street.
Again, we cut to the legs and feet of the mysterious figure that had been right in front of the camera just moments prior-- the individual seems as if he doesn't belong. Here, he is standing on the shining black asphalt, the glare of street lamps and porch lights bouncing every which way in an upper middle-class neighborhood, though his attire suggests anything but upper middle-class.
Within his clenched fist, what lowers into frame is a jagged five-inch blade. He wriggles his fingers ever-so-slightly, as if trying to first find the right grip, before marching forward, through midnight suburbia.
"You 'promise' you're gonna hurt her... I don't think there's too much doubt about that. You've proven you're willing to--"
"Willing to hurt her and anybody else. I showed Amy Zing what happens when she involves herself in grown-up affairs... I showed Dahlia what I was planning on doing to her when I put Lola O'Neal through a table, and I guarandamntee I would have beaten Tracie Voland if Dahlia hadn't interfered. And that pisses me off more than anything else that's happened since Struggle for Supremacy. The audacity of that -ACW Forced Censored-."
Parker furrows her brow, clearly frustrated with the situation at hand.
"I've always had the respect to at least wait for the contest to be over before I got my point across. A couple of weeks ago, in Atlanta, I made my way down to the ring and my intentions were clear... I was gonna put Dahlia through a table. It didn't go exactly how I planned--"
"At all, actually."
"--But I waited. Patiently I waited for her match to be over. I did it because I have enough respect for the business to do that. But Dahlia's disrespect? It goes so much deeper than that match last week. She never respected me... Sure, she always said that I had the potential to be great or that I could if I had the experience and the desire, but as far as I concerned, she was just jumping on the bandwagon, saying what everybody else already knew.
"Of course I have the potential to be great. I'm already really damn good. It's not like it was some grand discovery Dahlia made on her lonesome. Since I made my official debut, people were talking about how I was improving and learning faster than anybody they'd ever seen. Eight months later and people are talking about how I'm leaps and bounds ahead of Evan Harrison, the guy that brought me to the game.
"I'm not like every other rookie -ACW Forced Censored- that stepped through the ACW doors, couldn't hack it, and promptly made their way back to the high school gymnasiums. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't come into ACW with a chip on my shoulder-- I came to learn. I've never been stupid enough to overlook an opponent in the ring because I know that every single girl on that roster has been wrestling and fighting for their spot in the business longer than I have. I have the intelligence to realize that people hate me, not only because of the things I say, but because they know at the end of the day, there's nobody in the back that can do a damned thing about it.
"And it eats people apart because they think that there should be. People have somehow generated this idea that I am this bad guy and Dahlia is here to teach me a lesson and silence me. That is the order of things in the universe, correct? The bad guy goes out, tells the masses the truth, and does some questionable things to garner attention. In this case, I chose to wreak havoc on the Women's Division.
"Everybody takes notice, and everybody naturally waits for the hero to come bounding around the corner. Hallow-Havok is supposed to be the night where I am punished for all of my evil deeds and vanquished into obscurity after Dahlia puts me through a table. My punishment is losing my rare rematch at the Women's Title and justice is served because... Because on yet another night, good has triumphed over evil."
Lightning strikes.
The blade that was brandished by the mysterious drifter earlier is driven into the damp wood of an old-fashioned door. The house sticks out like a sore thumb in the suburbs-- the front yard is not mowed according to the community's regulations, and instead of having a bright-colored, smooth, sanded wooden door, this one looks as if it were crudely installed as a last-minute decision.
We soon follow the knife as it begins carving downward, curving toward the doorknob and its lock. The man begins to work the knife in a circular direction, murmuring to himself as he waits for the blade and the lock to come in contact.
"But am I evil? Am I really?"
"If we're going by the basic definition of 'good' versus 'evil', then sure. You're the vulture. You're seen as the girl who picks up the scraps and takes advantage of the fallen. Is that not evil?"
"...It feels good to hurt people, Tyler. The jokes and the whispers backstage? They stop when I hurt people. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? I got to this point through hard work and skill. I busted my ass to hold the Women's Championship for fifty-six days and cement my name, not only in ACW, but in professional wrestling. The thing that I was guilty of was wanting to excel here, doing it, and overshadowing the women that picked on me before I even knew how to slap in a headlock.
"Before I had even stepped foot in a wrestling ring, I was assaulted by Dahlia on an episode of Shockwave. I felt helpless and I made sure that it wouldn't happen again. I got better. From the time of my official debut until the first time I went up against Dahlia, I was damn-near untouchable."
The man steps into the house, making his way up a winding, wooden staircase.
"She beat me. And... I was brought back down from this cloud that I was on. And... I needed that. But I remember being so angry that she had beaten me because up until that point I had beaten every -ACW Forced Censored- they threw in my way. I wasn't questioned by anybody-- my skills were hardly doubted by women when they actually got in the ring across from me and saw how serious I was-- saw how much I wanted and needed to be in that ring.
"And then she just knocked me down, took me out with the Dead Spin and I..."
Sigh.
"I felt that after everything I'd worked through and worked toward up to that point, I needed to get that win and I felt that it was time. But it didn't matter. There was no schedule for how these things worked... It was really up to who was better on that night. And it was Dahlia. Overall, at that time, she was the better wrestler.
"But I think that has changed. Dramatically. I think it's time for everybody to take notice and realize that Alexa Cole, Tee Voland, Dahlia, and the likes... While they most be some of the most popular and have some of the most imposing names, they aren't the greatest. They may sell the tickets, but I'm the one that turns the casual viewer into the wrestling fan."
The man pushes open a door that is colored a periwinkle color, another odd feature of the house which seems old-fashioned even inside. The walls are made to mock the image of wood and the man dares flick a pale yellow light on overhead.
His face is covered by a ski mask and the blade is still in hand as he pushes open the door, leaning forward into the darkness. We follow him as he steps inside, cautiously, moving silently over the carpet.
"What has Dahlia said about me? Eh? That I'm not worthy of saying the name 'Carnage'. That my name... Sounds like a dog's name... Stuff like that. Stuff that might mean the world to her, but means nothing to me. I called her stupid back then because I didn't understand her and I still don't understand what she means by now but I know that she is smart and calculated in that ring. And if she says something is important, then it might just be important to her.
"So no, I won't be spouting out the name 'Mike Rivers' in our Tables match because that would give her the incentive to do what she has to do-- which is pin me and then throw me through a table. I don't feel that I need to provoke Dahlia. I've gotten enough attention from her. I've gotten my match for the World Women's Championship, and now I'm going to take back what is important to me. Dahlia probably doesn't understand the gravity of the situation... She probably thinks that I see the Women's Title as an accessory or I just want it for vanity."
We see, in a choppy, dim-lit vision that the man has made his way to a jewelry box. There is a woman sleeping, soundly in the bed, much of her body hidden beneath navy-colored blankets. The man lifts the box up and turns, tilting his head as he looks at the woman.
He scrapes his knife against the edge of the dresser as he makes his way toward her, his eyes becoming wide, his breathing, heavy.
"I see it as my everything. I see it as something that I have worked to turn into the most prestigious championship in the business and I think that I'm the woman that should be representing ACW. Not barbarians like Dahlia-- but real women that are actually passionate about what they do.
"Real women that would do absolutely ANYTHING to hold the title that women like Aurora Matthews made mean a damn."
The man makes his way out of the house. The jewelry box is stained with a thick, crimson blood. The blade is nowhere to be found, but there is an easiness... A calmness in his stride. He hugs the box to his chest, ignoring the blood that drips down to the asphalt below.
"...I'm not leaving Hallow-Havok without the championship. I don't... I don't necessarily think that people, Dahlia included, think that I'm ready for this. They don't believe that it's my time to carry this title... Not this era... Not me.
"But I'm gonna make my own time. It starts tomorrow night. I will win the World Women's Title by putting Dahlia through a table. I have the advantage-- and that's her own fault. And I'm going to take the opportunity that I was given because I know damn-well how hard things like this are to come by in ACW.
"Tomorrow. I have to do this... I can do this... And that's all there is to it. And the fact that the timing is all off just makes it that much sweeter, Tyler. Because I finally feel confident that I am in control."
A small half-smirk crosses her face, but we only see it for a brief second before we cut to a shot on the outside of the house.
A pumpkin, with a happy face carved into it, its eyebrows perked and its mouth agape in a grin, is covered in snow as the thick flakes plummet toward the ground.
We change angles soon, and the scene appears to be cinematic-- clearly shot in such a style for the sole purpose of this vignette; the scene becomes clear within moments. We are in the woods. It was the recipient of a heavy downpour recently, evident by the shining mud and the thick puddles. We hear footsteps, faint at first, though they soon become more and more pronounced.
They slap and smash through the mud and the damp leaves that cover the ground. Soon, brown boots, covered in dirt and muck pop into the frame. One foot, and then the other, standing in the brown sludge-like slop, dark blue jeans hugging his legs. We cannot tell much about the individual from what we are given, visually-- we can assume that he is a man, judging by his stance and his composure. But soon, he moves toward the camera, obscuring our view entirely, before we blink out to black.
"Can you believe this? I mean, I heard rumors and speculation but I didn't... I didn't think it would actually happen."
"I didn't doubt it. Weirder things have happened."
"Sure, but it was just so out of nowhere. It's not the right time for this. Not here, anyway."
"Yeah? Well. Expect anything and everything... I think it's a pretty good motto to live by."
Video meets audio as the figures of the number one contender for ACW's World Women's Championship, Aubrey J. Parker is shown standing with her arms folded-- she is dressed in a plain, form-fitting, gray tee. She is waiting patiently for the owner of the other voice-- one Tyler Harrison to join her. And within seconds, he does, dressed a lot more casually than he has been seen as of late. He's wearing signature Aubrey J. Parker merchandise, a white t-shirt that reads "AJP or DIE" in crimson letters, over a black-and-white image of the face of Amy Zing, contorted in agony. We can gather that both individuals are in pajama pants, comfortable in their setting.
Tyler holds two steaming mugs of hot chocolate-- their presence only significant due to the scene that we behold next. As Tyler moves past Parker and the two make their way through the familiar house and into a large, warm-colored room, we see a large, open window on the far wall. We see a mixture of rain and snow hitting the glass, the sound intensified due to the wind.
"I don't like the whole idea that everything should work on this sort of clock. Like... The snow in the Mid-Atlantic. Yeah, it's a bit strange but I've learned to just accept it. I don't question it. I prepare myself for it the best that I can and I find a way to excel in the situation. In this case? Organic hot chocolate..."
Tyler looks up as he hands Parker one of the mugs, which she gladly accepts. Judging by the scenery around the room which includes paintings signed by Tyler and pictures of the Harrison family, we are in Tyler Harrison's home in Maryland. Tyler's look toward Parker, however, is expectant, as if he knows that she intends to continue.
"And then there are the people that talk about Dahlia and how this is her time. This is once again her time to carry the women's division and step up as one of the main faces of American Championship Wrestling... I've seen everything that she's been doing... The charity work, the commercials, the events, all the Katy Perry and the kids and the..."
Parker waves, dismissively, as if suggesting that the rest of what Dahlia did was unimportant.
"I think that's all cool. I'm all for supporting the kids and the teenage dream and all that good stuff but unfortunately, those children will not be able to reach out and touch the World Women's Championship. Not unless I'm the one visiting them. Because I'm taking back what was ripped right out of my hands, Tyler. I promise I'm gonna hurt her to get it back."
We return to the cinematic scene that was just moments ago inside of a woodland area. Though it is raining here as well, we are in the suburbs. There are very few houses that actually have their interior lights powered on, though porch lights and spot lights illuminate random parts of the street.
Again, we cut to the legs and feet of the mysterious figure that had been right in front of the camera just moments prior-- the individual seems as if he doesn't belong. Here, he is standing on the shining black asphalt, the glare of street lamps and porch lights bouncing every which way in an upper middle-class neighborhood, though his attire suggests anything but upper middle-class.
Within his clenched fist, what lowers into frame is a jagged five-inch blade. He wriggles his fingers ever-so-slightly, as if trying to first find the right grip, before marching forward, through midnight suburbia.
"You 'promise' you're gonna hurt her... I don't think there's too much doubt about that. You've proven you're willing to--"
"Willing to hurt her and anybody else. I showed Amy Zing what happens when she involves herself in grown-up affairs... I showed Dahlia what I was planning on doing to her when I put Lola O'Neal through a table, and I guarandamntee I would have beaten Tracie Voland if Dahlia hadn't interfered. And that pisses me off more than anything else that's happened since Struggle for Supremacy. The audacity of that -ACW Forced Censored-."
Parker furrows her brow, clearly frustrated with the situation at hand.
"I've always had the respect to at least wait for the contest to be over before I got my point across. A couple of weeks ago, in Atlanta, I made my way down to the ring and my intentions were clear... I was gonna put Dahlia through a table. It didn't go exactly how I planned--"
"At all, actually."
"--But I waited. Patiently I waited for her match to be over. I did it because I have enough respect for the business to do that. But Dahlia's disrespect? It goes so much deeper than that match last week. She never respected me... Sure, she always said that I had the potential to be great or that I could if I had the experience and the desire, but as far as I concerned, she was just jumping on the bandwagon, saying what everybody else already knew.
"Of course I have the potential to be great. I'm already really damn good. It's not like it was some grand discovery Dahlia made on her lonesome. Since I made my official debut, people were talking about how I was improving and learning faster than anybody they'd ever seen. Eight months later and people are talking about how I'm leaps and bounds ahead of Evan Harrison, the guy that brought me to the game.
"I'm not like every other rookie -ACW Forced Censored- that stepped through the ACW doors, couldn't hack it, and promptly made their way back to the high school gymnasiums. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't come into ACW with a chip on my shoulder-- I came to learn. I've never been stupid enough to overlook an opponent in the ring because I know that every single girl on that roster has been wrestling and fighting for their spot in the business longer than I have. I have the intelligence to realize that people hate me, not only because of the things I say, but because they know at the end of the day, there's nobody in the back that can do a damned thing about it.
"And it eats people apart because they think that there should be. People have somehow generated this idea that I am this bad guy and Dahlia is here to teach me a lesson and silence me. That is the order of things in the universe, correct? The bad guy goes out, tells the masses the truth, and does some questionable things to garner attention. In this case, I chose to wreak havoc on the Women's Division.
"Everybody takes notice, and everybody naturally waits for the hero to come bounding around the corner. Hallow-Havok is supposed to be the night where I am punished for all of my evil deeds and vanquished into obscurity after Dahlia puts me through a table. My punishment is losing my rare rematch at the Women's Title and justice is served because... Because on yet another night, good has triumphed over evil."
Lightning strikes.
The blade that was brandished by the mysterious drifter earlier is driven into the damp wood of an old-fashioned door. The house sticks out like a sore thumb in the suburbs-- the front yard is not mowed according to the community's regulations, and instead of having a bright-colored, smooth, sanded wooden door, this one looks as if it were crudely installed as a last-minute decision.
We soon follow the knife as it begins carving downward, curving toward the doorknob and its lock. The man begins to work the knife in a circular direction, murmuring to himself as he waits for the blade and the lock to come in contact.
"But am I evil? Am I really?"
"If we're going by the basic definition of 'good' versus 'evil', then sure. You're the vulture. You're seen as the girl who picks up the scraps and takes advantage of the fallen. Is that not evil?"
"...It feels good to hurt people, Tyler. The jokes and the whispers backstage? They stop when I hurt people. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? I got to this point through hard work and skill. I busted my ass to hold the Women's Championship for fifty-six days and cement my name, not only in ACW, but in professional wrestling. The thing that I was guilty of was wanting to excel here, doing it, and overshadowing the women that picked on me before I even knew how to slap in a headlock.
"Before I had even stepped foot in a wrestling ring, I was assaulted by Dahlia on an episode of Shockwave. I felt helpless and I made sure that it wouldn't happen again. I got better. From the time of my official debut until the first time I went up against Dahlia, I was damn-near untouchable."
The man steps into the house, making his way up a winding, wooden staircase.
"She beat me. And... I was brought back down from this cloud that I was on. And... I needed that. But I remember being so angry that she had beaten me because up until that point I had beaten every -ACW Forced Censored- they threw in my way. I wasn't questioned by anybody-- my skills were hardly doubted by women when they actually got in the ring across from me and saw how serious I was-- saw how much I wanted and needed to be in that ring.
"And then she just knocked me down, took me out with the Dead Spin and I..."
Sigh.
"I felt that after everything I'd worked through and worked toward up to that point, I needed to get that win and I felt that it was time. But it didn't matter. There was no schedule for how these things worked... It was really up to who was better on that night. And it was Dahlia. Overall, at that time, she was the better wrestler.
"But I think that has changed. Dramatically. I think it's time for everybody to take notice and realize that Alexa Cole, Tee Voland, Dahlia, and the likes... While they most be some of the most popular and have some of the most imposing names, they aren't the greatest. They may sell the tickets, but I'm the one that turns the casual viewer into the wrestling fan."
The man pushes open a door that is colored a periwinkle color, another odd feature of the house which seems old-fashioned even inside. The walls are made to mock the image of wood and the man dares flick a pale yellow light on overhead.
His face is covered by a ski mask and the blade is still in hand as he pushes open the door, leaning forward into the darkness. We follow him as he steps inside, cautiously, moving silently over the carpet.
"What has Dahlia said about me? Eh? That I'm not worthy of saying the name 'Carnage'. That my name... Sounds like a dog's name... Stuff like that. Stuff that might mean the world to her, but means nothing to me. I called her stupid back then because I didn't understand her and I still don't understand what she means by now but I know that she is smart and calculated in that ring. And if she says something is important, then it might just be important to her.
"So no, I won't be spouting out the name 'Mike Rivers' in our Tables match because that would give her the incentive to do what she has to do-- which is pin me and then throw me through a table. I don't feel that I need to provoke Dahlia. I've gotten enough attention from her. I've gotten my match for the World Women's Championship, and now I'm going to take back what is important to me. Dahlia probably doesn't understand the gravity of the situation... She probably thinks that I see the Women's Title as an accessory or I just want it for vanity."
We see, in a choppy, dim-lit vision that the man has made his way to a jewelry box. There is a woman sleeping, soundly in the bed, much of her body hidden beneath navy-colored blankets. The man lifts the box up and turns, tilting his head as he looks at the woman.
He scrapes his knife against the edge of the dresser as he makes his way toward her, his eyes becoming wide, his breathing, heavy.
"I see it as my everything. I see it as something that I have worked to turn into the most prestigious championship in the business and I think that I'm the woman that should be representing ACW. Not barbarians like Dahlia-- but real women that are actually passionate about what they do.
"Real women that would do absolutely ANYTHING to hold the title that women like Aurora Matthews made mean a damn."
The man makes his way out of the house. The jewelry box is stained with a thick, crimson blood. The blade is nowhere to be found, but there is an easiness... A calmness in his stride. He hugs the box to his chest, ignoring the blood that drips down to the asphalt below.
"...I'm not leaving Hallow-Havok without the championship. I don't... I don't necessarily think that people, Dahlia included, think that I'm ready for this. They don't believe that it's my time to carry this title... Not this era... Not me.
"But I'm gonna make my own time. It starts tomorrow night. I will win the World Women's Title by putting Dahlia through a table. I have the advantage-- and that's her own fault. And I'm going to take the opportunity that I was given because I know damn-well how hard things like this are to come by in ACW.
"Tomorrow. I have to do this... I can do this... And that's all there is to it. And the fact that the timing is all off just makes it that much sweeter, Tyler. Because I finally feel confident that I am in control."
A small half-smirk crosses her face, but we only see it for a brief second before we cut to a shot on the outside of the house.
A pumpkin, with a happy face carved into it, its eyebrows perked and its mouth agape in a grin, is covered in snow as the thick flakes plummet toward the ground.