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| A Prelude to Destiny | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 10 2009, 06:17 AM (48 Views) | |
| Deleted User | Jul 10 2009, 06:17 AM Post #1 |
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Deleted User
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… ||| >>> SCENE 1 <<< ||| … ‘Confrontation is a two-edged sword..’ The wind blows softly through the old willow trees in the park; their leaves make the sweetest music against a backdrop of hustle and bustle that is downtown Columbus, Ohio. A fit, male patron stops by a park bench. His grey t-shirt is drenched in sweat, causing it to appear black in color. He wears a pair of black jogging pants, which reveal themselves to the close spectator as being wet as well. He pulls a watch from the pocket of his jogging pants, apparently logging the time of his mid-day run. He takes a seat on the bench by which he stopped and catches his breath. He looks around in a slow, dramatic fashion, savoring all of the serene beauty that alludes from the park. One by one, fellow patrons of the facility walk, jog, or merely pass him by; he is unnoticed by everyone. It is not until a small child of not more than eight years approaches him that his privacy is interrupted. The young boy is all alone and nonchalantly takes a seat in the vacant spot on the bench directly beside Gregory Grantham. With not even a single ‘star-struck’ gaze in his eyes towards Grantham, he looks up at the star and proceeds; “I think I know you, Mister.” Grantham isn’t necessarily upset that he has been noticed. The time out of the limelight has really helped to designate to him the importance of his position in society, or how he perceives it. He chuckles a bit before politely issuing a rebuttal to the young boy. “Oh you do, huh?” The boy now grows a bit bright eyed. He continues, “Yep, I sure do. You’re that wrestler that got fired a bit back. Jesse Montana kicked you out. Do you work here at the park now?” The bit of a smile that Grantham wore before now grows into a look of displeasure at the boys comments, even though he meant them with the upmost level of sincerity. Grantham then asks the boy with a bit of bitter taste on his tongue, “Well, son, did you happen to watch the last pay-per-view event, Summer Showdown?” The boy shakes his head from left to right vigorously while answering Grantham’s question. “Nope, I sure didn’t. My dad said that he wasn’t going to pay $49.95 for a 3 hour television program, so I just sat in my room and played with my CZW action figures. I’ve got all the good ones, like Ace King, Cage Stryker and Buck Owens. I had an Alan Fiscus, but somehow it caught on fire by itself.” The image of Alan Fiscus on fire enters the mind of Gregory Grantham. He laughs a bit at the comical picture in his mind of one of his arch enemies from prior times in CZW. He still holds a bit of hatred, as well as envy for Fiscus, so the imagery is that of a pleasing nature. He continues the dialogue with the young child. “Well, you can blame your cheap father for causing you to miss the single most important return in CZW history; mine. “ “So you’re back wrestling again?”, the child returns. “Yeah. I’m back. In fact, that’s the very reason I am in this town of Columbus that you and your mediocre father call home. Be sure your dad doesn’t mind vouching for the cable bill, so that you don’t miss my first match back since I was fired. I’ll be wrestling T.J. Hix. Do you like him?” “No, no, no, no, no. I had his action figure but I threw it in the garbage because it was so boring and cliché.” Grantham laughs a bit before answering, “Kid, how do you know what ‘cliché’ means?” The kid shrugs his shoulders... “I don’t know, I’ve just heard my mom use it before, usually when my dad is explaining to her why my babysitter is missing clothes. I still don’t know why she gets ‘nakey’ to use the girls’ room, or why dad has to go in there with her. I guess to help her wipe like he did for me when I was a baby.” Grantham’s face turns red a bit as he notices that an older man who resembles the child has approached the two from the rear as the child reveals a bit of a candid revelation to Grantham. The man, who is the child’s father, addresses his son with a stern, clearly embarrassed face. “I think it’s about time we go, Kevin. And why are you talking to strangers in the park? Haven’t your mother and I warned you enough about all of the kids who get abducted?” The man turns his attention to Grantham.. “I’m sorry my son has bothered you.” Grantham nods his head about before answering Kevin’s father, who now has the young boy by his arm and standing beside him. “The kid wasn’t bothering me, but your right to apologize for him. You should have raised him better to know not to bother strangers with your fiscal misfortunes and repetitive infidelity. Have you ever thought about the message your sending to your son?” The man is now red in the face. He is clearly angry with the comments just made to him by Grantham, but in no way plans to make a physical advance. He is much smaller in stature than Grantham. He answers Grantham, all the while pointing at the wrestlers’ chest... “I know who you are you bastard. And don’t think you can use your clout as a washed up, former professional wrestler to justify what you’ve done here, badgering information useless to you out of my unsuspecting son. You wrestlers are just as described on television; you’re sick and twisted.” Grantham grows a bit angry at the undeserving retaliation from the young boy’s father. For a moment, he ponders making a physical advance towards the man, but after a short thought process, decides against it.... “You know what, it’s pompous assholes of the world like you that keep me going, sir. People who make even the most cocky of personalities like myself look good. So thank you, for raising your child in a shell of self-pity, anguish and denial like you are. Thank you for being that inspiration to me, and ensuring that I will have even more in the future. I am going to need it to reach the plateau that is most definitely destined to me.” The man is clearly puzzled by the word-speak of Grantham. With a glare in his eye, he brushes off the wrestlers’ words from his deaf ears and ends the conversation at its current value before retreating from the situation. He turns to his son... “Come on Kevin. Let’s go.” The man leads his son away from Grantham on the concrete walking path. Kevin waves innocently to Grantham as he is dragged from the scene of confrontation by his father. Grantham nods to the young boy as he fades from view. ::CLOSE SCENE:: __________________________________________________________________________ … ||| >>> Scene 2 <<< ||| … ‘And the Road Goes On…’ It was a novel-esque scene; that morning of July 10th. Even from the 9th floor window of his room at the Columbus Marriott, Grantham could see opportunity, even through the dreariness of the morning. If one thing was for sure, it was that the air conditioner of his $400 a night room worked to perfection. The windows in the room were almost completely clouded by condensation. While sitting on the ledge near his window, he clears the condensation a second time. Slowly, beams of sunlight begin to penetrate the morning clouds, revealing the opportunity at hand. An alarm goes off on his Blackberry which sits on the nightstand beside the bed. Grantham gets up to check the memo. He’s put so many in since the return, that its’ contents stand to be a surprise. Hey reads the message; 9:00-Interview A bit of a smile comes across his face. Today is his first interview back; the first time he is set to see an old foe of sorts, Ryan Lewis. He clears the memo to go back to the main screen, with the intentions of checking the time. 7:48 a.m. ..’Now is as good a time as any’, he thinks to himself as he picks a pair of blue jeans up off of the pearl white carpet of the hotel suite floor. He puts them on and places the Blackberry in his pocket, simultaneously grabbing his set of car keys and placing them in his pocket as well. He throws on a green t-shirt and a pair of Adidas tennis shoes and leaves the hotel room, but not before checking his reflection in the mirror near the door to his right. After a quick correction to his hair, he meets his own vain approval and leaves; the door automatically locking behind him. He passes many onlookers on the way out. Word has traveled that he is staying in this hotel, away from the other CZW wrestlers. That in itself is no surprise, as this is a practice Grantham has made common since he began his journey here in April of the year prior. ‘BEEP..BEEP..BEEP..’ The sound comes from the his black 2009 BMW 5-series coupe, accompanied by his headlights flashing as he presses a button on his remote while approaching the vehicle. He opens the door and gets in. Grantham starts the car, the pure unadulterated European engineering prevails so prominently over the rest of the audible extrusions of downtown Columbus at 8 a.m. Grantham pulls out of the hotel parking lot in a manner that is so quick it nearly classifies as dangerous. He makes his way towards St. John Arena, site of his return to prominence in the CZW, as well as his 9:00 a.m. appointment with Ryan Lewis. He finally enters an area of roadway not overrun by a morning commute so full of pencil pushers and office workers and looks to the nearly empty passenger’s seat to his right. The seat is as mentioned, nearly empty; the only items that reside in the space are a worn out, leather bound notebook, a red pen, and a curled up photo turned upside down. And the road goes on… ____________________________________________________________________________ … ||| >>> Scene 3 <<< ||| … ‘An Overdue Meeting..’ The black BMW pulls into the rear entry area of the arena. Grantham exits the vehicle and walks to the backdoor of the arena. He checks in with a large African-American man who is standing guard at the entry point. The two men nod at each other and the security guard opens the door for Grantham, who enters into the backstage area. He walks through the back area of the arena expecting to see many of his peers of old either staging their dressing area or hitting the weights. However, the arena is empty and the first person he comes across is CZW cameraman Melvin McWheedlepoo. …[MM]… “Hey there, Grantham. Ehhh, are you lookin’ for Ryan?” …[Grantham]… “Yeah, any idea where Wade and he are at?” …[MM]… “Umm, well Ryan just called me and said that he is running a little behind this morning and he was leaving his hotel for the arena. As for Wade, uhh, I guess you didn’t get the memo that I’d be working the camera today.” …[Grantham]… “Well, whatever. I guess that’s fine. Usually it’s me who is late to the interviews, but I guess since I’ve been gone, things have had time to change a bit. I don’t have a problem waiting for this overdue meeting to commence. Where is everyone else at today?” …[MM]… “Well to be quite honest, Mr. Grantham, the place has been mostly desolate today. I haven’t seen any of the talent yet this morning, only staffers. I guess all the guys are getting one last day of sleep in before the big day tomorrow. You know, there is a lot of buzz going around about Overdrive tomorrow. Last week really wasn’t a good enough opportunity for the fallout to come forth from Summer Showdown, not to mention that your return to the ring is this week.” …[Grantham]… “Yeah…McWheedlepoo…I’ve been through here before; I’m not green. I don’t need your ass kissing, so how about we just cut the bullshit out and wait for Ryan to---“ At that moment, a more cosmopolitan looking Ryan Lewis walks in through the same door in which Grantham did moments earlier. He is wearing a pair of white sunglasses, much the style today’s youth are sporting, and talking loudly on his cell phone.. “Yeah. Yeeeeeeeeeeah! I know, right? Yeah, I took Sharon home the other night, she was wasted. I know…I know, right? Oh god! Well bro, I’ll have to let you go, I’ve got business to handle. Yeah, yeah whatever! Alright, later!” Grantham stands, arm crossed, looking over at Ryan Lewis who has just pried his flip-phone off of his ear and closed it, placing it in the pocket of his khaki sport coat. Underneath his coat, he wears a light blue buttoned dress shirt and is wearing dark colored blue jeans. He glances at Grantham and simultaneously removes his white sunglasses… …[Ryan Lewis]… “Well..well..well. I sure as hell never thought I’d be interviewing you again in my lifetime. Maybe I could have done a special interview with you from prison, I thought that was where you would end up.” (Melvin McWheedlepoo stands off to the side, but is still in audible range of the conversation. He laughs a bit at Ryan’s comment, alluding to all of Grantham’s prior troubles in the CZW…) …[Grantham]… “What the hell are you laughing at, cameraman? If you want a job, you’ll keep quiet and keep your snickers to yourself.” …[Ryan Lewis]… “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Grantham. There’s no need to talk to Melvin like that. I mean, for one, do you honestly think it necessary to attempt to intimidate a cameraman? That’s pretty pathetic in itself. And let me be the first person to share this disclaimer with you Grantham; you have no more pull here in the CZW. In fact, you’re on a lower level than you were when you first started out here in 2008. Hell, the only reason I’m booked for your interview today is that Jenny Jacobs had another outbreak. So if you could, leave your ego right here and let’s go knock out this interview. I’ve got an important lunch date, and I’m sure you have got your own things to tend to.” (Grantham gives Ryan one look before unexpectedly grabbing the interviewer by the collar of his shirt and pinning him up against a nearby wall…) …[Grantham]… “Let me tell you something you son of a bitch. The moment you think that you can talk to me like that is the moment you lose your job as well as Melvin here; not because you’ll both be fired but instead because you’ll both be ‘physically unable to perform’. You both will end up in the exact same fashion that B.J. Dix or T.J. Hix, whoever this guy is; is going to end up Saturday night at Overdrive. Now shake your head once if this is understood, Lewis. If you need some more encouragement, simply scream like the bitch that you are.” (Shaking, Ryan Lewis shakes his head only once as instructed, and Grantham releases him in one jerking motion. Lewis immediately steps back and away from Grantham…) …[Grantham]… “Now, let’s get this interview over with. Maybe I don’t have an ‘important lunch date’ like you Mr.Seacrest, but I do have a match to finish preparing and training for. Apparently, I have a legion of people like you to prove that I don’t need ‘pull’ here in order to reach my goals.” (Ryan Lewis angrily straightens his shirt collar before answering Grantham…) …[Ryan Lewis]… “Fine. Fine, whatever. You’re right, let’s just get this over with. Whether I like it or not, there seem to be quite a bit of people who want to hear what you have to say.” ____________________________________________________________________________ … ||| >>> Final Scene <<< ||| … ‘A Better Approach to Perfection’ A room in the backstage area of the arena is the setting for the aforementioned interview. The staging is simple enough; two directors-style chairs sit in front of the camera, cornered inward to one another, and a CZW logo sign situated on a black-curtain backdrop. Grantham appears to be ready to commence the interview, while Ryan Lewis has an employee doing his makeup. Grantham looks over at Lewis… “C’mon Ryan. You can’t be serious.” Lewis returns the stare in the direction of Grantham. Then, with a look of annoyance on his face, he tells his make-up person to finish up. The young girl takes on last look at Ryan’s face before retreating off the stage to the right. Ryan then calls out to Melvin McWheedlepoo, who is situated behind the main set camera… “Alright, Melvin, I think we are ready now.” McWheedlepoo nods his head before commencing the countdown.. “Innnnn 3…………………2……………………” McWheedlepoo makes a motion with his right hand in the direction of Ryan Lewis and Grantham, indicating that taping has initiated. Lewis takes over… …[Ryan Lewis]… “Welcome CZW fans to this, a very special edition of CZW Online. Today, we are going to feature an interview with a superstar who was previously banned from the entire organization, but now after a bit of soul searching has once again found solace here, and is preparing to start his venture once again tomorrow night from square one.” (The camera pans out, now bringing not only Ryan Lewis, but Gregory ‘The Graduate’ Grantham to view…) …[Ryan Lewis]… “Of course, I am talking about the CZW’s only Juris Doctor, or in layman’s terms, possessor of a law degree, Mr. Gregory Grantham.” (Ryan turns now from the camera, to facing Grantham…) “Graduate, it feels like it has been an eternity, though it has only been a few short months. I guess first off, I should ask you just where have you been during this unintentional hiatus of yours?” (Grantham quickly cuts a stare into Ryan’s eyes, sending him a message to watch his caddy comments. He then begins to answer the initial question of the interview…) …[Grantham]… “I’ve been a lot of places since my untimely termination back earlier this year, but I never forgot where I was supposed to be. I had a short stint at another wrestling organization, but all the while I had my agent working to secure my return to the CZW. I had unfinished business here; things that I couldn’t live with myself if I let slip by me, things that I have, in fact, let slip by me until now. The hiatus you mention has been a most divine opportunity for me, in the light that it has allowed me to take an outside look at my own situation, and to develop a much better path to reaching the destination that I will undoubtedly obtain. The firing, the toil, the sitting at home; everything, has made me into a more complete competitor. My head is clear now, and my goals are more determined. I think that because of my experience, I am now better prepared to not get swayed or swindled from my determined path. The event as a whole has truly allowed me to create a different, a better path to perfection.” …[Ryan Lewis]… “Speaking of that path, Grantham, can you inform myself and the fans as to what your new path is? Where does it lead you?” …[Grantham]… “Ryan, this new path is basically a patch on the initial pact I made with myself. When I first came to CZW, my goal was to obtain the World Heavyweight Championship at any cost. However, I let my own greed become my vehicle of self-destruction. I had a clear path set to win the World Title in last years’ King of Combat tournament, but instead I bowed out in order to take an ill-fated job as General Manager. Hell, I even beat the then-champion Jesse Montana in my most brilliant booking, the ‘Red, White and Blue’ match last September 11th. I had every opportunity to win the World Title, but I never took the correct approach. It was almost like I was too concerned with gaining gold. Last time around, I completely used ‘The Upstarts’ from my start to their finish. I killed that affiliation from the inside out. Looking back on it now, I kind of feel like I did Jesse Montana and Maynard O’Toole both a huge favor by doing so; they both went on to be World Champions. Maybe it has been my bit of karma that my own organization broke apart and left me to deteriorate alone, and that I have never had a title run of my own. So now, instead of pointing my focus down the broad road of CZW gold, I have instead opted to do whatever it takes from here on out to make those who sent me to my proverbial grave know what it feels like to been where I have been. This includes Alan Fiscus, a man who I have had three close encounters with and lost each of the three. Many people find that Fistus is a worthy opponent, but my analysis has led me to believe otherwise. From where I have stood; on the outside and looking in, it is my opinion that f**kus is one of the biggest pieces of garbage in this entire place. However, I used to not understand how he got his victories. His success baffled me in the past. Now, I find myself enlightened, and can comprehend that Fiscus is the equivalent in CZW to a Dennis Rodman; he is our dirty player. He pries, and cheats and steals his way into the minds of his opponents and f**ks them from the inside. I used to think Fiscus was a product of a birth defect, causing him to conform to a sense of insanity, but now I know that his intelligence may even rival that of my own. Now I understand Fiscus, I can see clearly now what a pitiful waste of a man he really is, and when we meet again; and we will, I will be better prepared than in the past to give him the taste of defeat which he so rarely encounters.” …[Ryan Lewis]… “But I know that it doesn’t stop with Fiscus, right? In fact, I believe that he is the least of your concerns in your re-debut, correct?” …[Grantham]… “Well Ryan, usually I have to lead you through these things but apparently you’ve done your research this time around. As you and I have mentioned collectively, my sight is not set on gold now, though I would most certainly love to become a champion for the first time in the process. My sights instead are set on seeking vengeance for the wrongs that have been done to me. The main person who I am after is none other than former World Champion, Ace King. When we last met, I was his first win in a long line of losses. He was at the bottom of his career, crying out for help and ready to jump from his proverbial cliff. However, I let that pathetic, lethargic, washed-up falling star reclaim his former glory by taking me in one of my lowest points as well. I was weak then, too weak to overcome what I was going through with the demise of Elite Revolution, dealing with the pathetic place I was stuck in with ’2-8-1’, and also my three losses to Alan Fiscus. I find it odd that from the point I was hired in April of 2008, I had staked my claim to Ace King, because he, at that time, was the World Champion. For almost a year, I am unable to get a match with King, even though I am at the upper plateau of the CZW food chain during this time. I am wrestling matches with all of the superstars; Eric Collum, Krimzon Blaze, Jesse Montana, Cage Stryker, Maynard O’Toole; but alas, I cannot get my match with Ace King booked. He avoided a match with me for so long, until it was of benefit to him. He sat back and waited, waited for someone who was in a lower place than even him, and then like a poisonous serpent, struck at the exact time nature intended him to. My message to him is one of both comfort to my soul, as well as of the upmost levels of importance to him. Ace, I am at a completely different place in my career now. April of last year, as well as the end of 2008; neither matter anymore. They are both forgotten by me, even though I know that the end of 2008, well the last 6 months of last year, still weigh heavily on your mind. They are prying into your brain daily, especially now since you have once again fallen from grace and your CZW World Heavyweight Title has been taken. Every inch of your mind and soul are telling you daily that you are no longer the man you used to be, that you’re merely a shell of a stranger to yourself. Your thoughts are right, Ace. You’ll never be the same now. You can thank me for helping you to obtain one last shot at glory, but as far as you once again f**king yourself over, I have no claim to. We will meet again Ace, and I can assure you that the outcome of this meeting will be much different from our first two. You know the old saying, my friend, ‘the third time is a charm’.” …[Ryan Lewis]… “I have got to say, Grantham, not even I have ever seen you speak with such thorough determination. I know that no matter how much the public hates you, and no matter how much they love Ace King, everyone is looking forward to what the future holds for both of you. If that happens to include a rematch between the two of you, I have a feeling that no one will be disappointed. However, the task at hand this week concerns neither Alan Fiscus , or Ace King. Instead, you will be facing a competitor new to you, ‘The F’n Boss’ T.J. Hix. Let’s get your thoughts on that matchup.” …[Grantham]… “T.J. Hix, or B.J. Dix; he can be whoever you like for a price, I’m sure. I am neither worried nor concerned with the fact that my first match back is against a second-rate, lifetime mid card superstar like T.J. Hix. Let’s face it, he’s so much of a pathetic piece of female anatomy that he can’t even curse. Apparently he isn’t manly enough to proclaim himself, the ‘f**kin’ boss. I have been wondering over the course of the week if his mother plans on accompanying him to ringside. I guess my message to the ‘F’n’ boss would be that tomorrow night, he is in for the worst ‘F’n’ butt-beating that he has ever experienced. The pain that I plan on putting this novice through as an example to not just Alan and Ace, but everyone in the locker room, will be of excruciating proportions. He should take a warning from his theme music, ‘Fat Lip’. T.J., that is exactly what you will be leaving Columbus with after our match, if you’re lucky. The simple ‘sum’ of things here is that just like your song, the last time anyone gave a shit about you was in 2001, well, other than your mother. So, if you’re childish ‘butt’ is prepared to take a whipping from a grown man like myself, than you and your whorish mother bring yourselves down to the ring tomorrow night and I will make my first example on my long road back to glory. Ask yourself, you immature little scapegoat bitch, are you ready to graduate from the childlike lie of a man that you are into a being who presents the true measure of a man? Are you ready to step up to a real challenge and make your mark as a top-tier competitor in this federation? Or are you just another piece of shit that I will step on in this, my second path back to the epicenter of the CZW, the top, the main events; a place that I have already been to and a place that you have and never will see. “ (Grantham takes a folded up notebook from the back of his jeans and places it in his lap. Ryan sees this, and immideatley recognizes it as the red-lettered notebook from times prior...) ...[Grantham]... "Ryan, you know better than anyone knows that each and every time I have written in this book, each time I have pressed that infamous red pen to the pages, what is written has came to be. Let's face it, CZW is not what it used to be. This notebook will be the King James and I will be the saviour of the CZW. And now, T.J. Hix will have his name cristned into these pages so that all of the free world can be a witness to his unworthiness to be in the same ring with me, and my clear superiority." Grantham takes a red pen from his front jean pocket and opens the notebook. In it, he writes; 'July 11th, 2009. The day that I reclaim my trail to greatness, the path that was mine once before and I let go. This time, it is all in my hands and I refuse to let myself or an outside source deprive me of redemption as well as the gold that will inevitably come along with it. T.J. Hix, the unfortunate soul, will serve as the first and only warning I will give to everyone in the CZW. This time, things are different. This time, perfection will be the result of my intelligent design.' …[Ryan Lewis]… “Wow fans, well you heard it here first on CZWonline, strong words from a strong, and let’s not forget intelligent man. Gregory ‘The Graduate’ Grantham has proclaimed once again, his path to righteousness once again, in CZW. Maybe the second time around, can be the charm in this situation. From Columbus, Ohio, I’m Ryan Lewis. Be sure to tune in tomorrow night to Overdrive, live on CZWtv!” --END-- |
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