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To The End.; EP EH ME WHC RP FT...W?
Topic Started: Dec 20 2012, 06:30 PM (198 Views)
El Pablo
Member Avatar
VIVA LA RAINBOWLUTION!!!

Darkness.

Blackness.

The Cimmerian Shade.

The complete and total absence of any and all illumination, and, by extention, any kind of visual hint, clue or cause for presumption as to one's present location or position within the space-time continuum; That is what greets us when first we choose to begin our journey through this latest episodic insight into a portion of the CZW consciousness.

However, while visually we find ourselves completely starved of any and all information and sensory sustenance, aurally we are immediately introduced to a cacophony of phenomena; the chirping of crickets, the faint trickling of running water over brick and stone, the occasional call or cry of an animal far off in the distance.. and, after a time, the sound of soft, slow, tentative footsteps rustling over dried leaves, the taker of those steps obviously wishing to play as little a part in this particular musical piece as possible.

After a few moments, the footsteps cease, replaced but a few seconds later by a harsh scraping sound as a blinding flash of light is burst forth from the centre of the screen, vanishing as quickly as it appeared and giving way to the sight of a long, narrow stone staircase, dancing in the orange glow of a flaming wooden torch. The stones from which the staircase - and indeed the tunnel along which it leads - are created are of a rather crude, if still remarkably-sophisticated manufacturing, and the thick layer of vines, ferns, leaves, roots and weeds that coat a very visible percentage of the space give the impression that we are standing in some kind of ancient temple, one whose influence in design has clear roots in the Mesoamerican style.

Having provided us with a bit of time to become accustomed to our surroundings, the camera slowly begins to turn to the side. As it does so, the glow of the flame gradually begins to intensify, until the torch itself comes into view, along with the person by whose hand it is currently being wielded. This person is dressed in a perfect representation of the "Hollywood Archaeologist"; a dirty, brown wide-brimmed hat; a dirty, slightly-lighter-brown shirt (sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons unfastened); dirty, brown pants and dirty, brown hiking boots. However, there is one part of this person's attire very noticeably out of place with the rest... a black lucha mask with bright, rainbow-coloured trim. The camera now holds its position as this intrepid explorer gingerly makes their way up the staircase past the camera, and, as they pass, we see that they are being followed not two paces behind by another, decidedly more feminine individual, dressed in the always-appropriate archaeological attire of dirty, brown leather calf-length boots; dirty, brown, almost obscenely-short shorts and a dirty, turquoise-coloured tanktop. Just as with her companion, this individual's rather "typical" attire is offset by the rather discordant addition of a black lucha mask with rainbow-coloured trim.

The camera begins to follow alongside as these two continue their journey up the staircase, hands clutched tightly together as a means of providing the combined purpose of emotional comfort and the reassurance that one of the party shall not become separated from the other. Eventually, they reach the top of the staircase, and are greeted by a long, possibly even narrower corridor, with the walls on either side punctuated at various points by small holes, a design feature sure to set alarm bells off inside the minds of those with even the most miniscule experience of films set within the archaelogical wing of the action-adventure genre. Slowly, and taking great care to remain as fluffy, rainbow-coloured dragon-squirrel-ninja-like as possible, the male explorer crouches down and picks a small rock up off the floor. He stands back up, and tosses the rock gently in his hand a few times before tossing it forward.. at which point an arrow shoots out of one of the holes in the wall and shatters the rock into several tiny pieces because ANCIENT TRIBAL MAGIC!!! The female cowers a little behind her companion in reaction; however, the male appears unpeturbed by this development, as he slowly opens the small, dirty, brown satchel worn over his shoulder and reaches a hand inside. After a second of digging, he pulls his hand back out, fingers curled into a loose fist as if holding something inside. The male then pauses for several seconds, eyes scanning over the scene, teeth absent-mindedly nibbling on his lower lip as he runs whatever plan of action he may have through his mind. The man then raises his hand.. and with a flick of the wrist, sends several Skittles flying down the corridor, drawing a hail of arrows that knock each Skittle off its trajectory before embedding themselves in the wall opposite. The male turns to face his partner, a wry smile spreading across his face as he gives her a wink, then motions for her to follow him along the corridor. The female rather reluctantly obliges, and the camera watches as the two make their way up the corridor, before cutting to show them walking towards us in a different part of the temple. As they approach, the frustration and despondency on their faces is clear to see, the female placing her hands on her hips and the male crossing his arms and stroking his chin as they cast their eyes upwards. The camera swings round, revealing an elaborate, decorative stone archway, framing what is obviously a thick stone door, preventing the couple's access to whatever may lie beyond it. Slowly, the male steps forward, and brushes his fingers over the stone door to reveal an enscription carved into the centre of it. As the male examines the foreign text, the female steps forward to join him, turning to her partner with a quizzical expression.


LARA CRISTAL: Can you read what it says?

INDIANEL PABLONES: "Abandonar a esperança, todos os que entram aqui... Abandon hope, all who enter here."

...

Eurgh... how cliché.


LARA CRISTAL: Can you HAVE clichés in an ancient temple?

INDIANEL PABLONES: Sure you can.. just look around! Flaming torches, arrow-shooting walls, skeletons all over the place...

LARA CRISTAL: No... Yes, I know those are clichés now, but.. surely they won't have been clichés when this place was built, however-many years ago?

INDIANEL PABLONES: ..How do you figure? Cris, seriously.. you check out any film, or TV show, or music video that takes place inside an ancient temple.. you're gonna see ALL this shit.

LARA CRISTAL: No... I know that.. but, what I'm saying is... back in the day.. when all these ancient temples were just temples...

Cristal looks at EP, who just stares blankly right back at her.

LARA CRISTAL: ..you know what, never mind. We going through this thing or what?

EP steps over to the side of the door, and adopts the traditional "power stance" as he blows on his fingertips and rubs his palms together. EP then presses his hands against the door and starts pushing, attempting to slide the door open. With little initial success, EP presses his foot against the archway, and - after much grunting, gritting, straining and groaning - the door finally begins to give, sliding slowly open to reveal a blockade of vines, branches and tree roots behind it, topped off in the centre with a stone tablet bearing another enscription. EP stumbles into view, showing obvious signs of fatigue from his opening of the door, Cristal helping to keep him balanced as they look over the second enscription.

INDIANEL PABLONES: "Sério, cara, não venha aqui. Você vai ter um momento ruim... Seriously, dude, don't come in here. You're gonna have a bad time."

EP and Cristal shoot each other a look, then start frantically tugging and tearing at the tangled mass of flora in front of them. When they have finally cleared enough space to walk through, EP tugs the tablet free, revealing a huge spider sat in the middle of a dense series of spiderwebs, forming yet another barricade to their presence.

INDIANEL PABLONES: ...Fuck THAT!

EP half-runs, half-stumbles backwards out of shot, as Cristal elects instead to tentatively approach the supersized arachnid, an inquisitive look upon her face as she tip-toes carefully across the floor. Being sure to maintain at least a jumbo spider-leg's worth of distance from the creature, Cristal casts an eye over the beast, which - for something supposedly put in place to deter raiders of tombs and lost arks - does not appear to be going out of its way to lauch any kind of attack. Cristal extends a hand above her head, and "twangs" a section of the web, instinctively leaping back as she does so although, again, such action brings no response from that which would be the bouncer at the door to the room beyond.

LARA CRISTAL: Hey, Pabs? I don't think this is a real sp-

FFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!

With a tribal roar seemingly loud and intense enough to shake the very foundations of the temple, EP charges from whatever fortress of solitude he had so corageously retreated to before, bursting back into view as he twists and nails the spider with a devestating spinning wheel kick, tearing through the thick blanket of webs and landing in a dusty, sticky heap on the floor behind. EP staggers back to his feet, several bits of webbing now sticking and hanging off of various parts of his costume. He turns to face Cristal, and as he does, we can see a small segment of what looks like papyrus paper stuck to his shirt. As Cristal steps forward to join him, EP peels the paper off, Cristal extending the torch nearer to him to allow him to better read the message written upon it.


INDIANEL PABLONES: "Cara, sério? Você ainda está tentando entrar aqui? Você já assistiu a um filme de terror antes? Quantas vezes esse tipo de bravata e senso de curiosidade arrasar sem todos os envolvidos surrering um sério caso de murderdeathkill? Esta é uma merda a sério sinistro aqui, e você ainda quer continuar? Multa. Só não diga que eu não avisei, como, 9000 vezes!"

LARA CRISTAL: ...What does it say?

INDIANEL PABLONES: I dunno, some bullshit about horror films. Shall we!?

Cristal hands EP the torch, and the two slowly step through the rest of the archway, the camera following behind as we come out into a small, circular room. In the very centre stands what looks like some kind of elaborate stone altar, illuminated rather sparsely - and incredibly ominously - by a moat of perpetual fire, flickering gently in a narrow circle around the platform upon which the altar stands. This platform is connected to the rest of the room by a small stone bridge, which EP and Cristal quickly tip-toe over, their eyes constantly darting around the rest of the room in anticipation of some kind of dramatic development. With nothing immediately forthcoming by the time they reach the platform, they turn their attentions to the altar. As the camera moves to share their viewpoint, we can see that the centre of the altar has been sculpted into a remarkably-precise representation of the CZW World Heavyweight Championship. The couple gasp as this sight registers, and Cristal turns excitedly to look at EP.

LARA CRISTAL: Is that.. what I think it is?

INDIANEL PABLONES: Yes.. we've found it! The one thing.. the one single artefact.. that will finally answer the ultimate question about December 2012! This altar right here... the information it holds... this will FINALLY put an end to all the speculation.. all the rumours.. all the scaremongering and papertalk.. and reveal the absolute, undeniable TRUTH about what is going to happen as our world nears the final part of the final month of its 2012th Gregorian Calendar Year!

The camera continues to watch on, as EP carefully clears the thick layer of dust and dirt from off the top of the altar. As he does so, we begin to be able to make out a series of images carved into the stone surface, joined in a perfect circle around the depiction of the WHC belt.

LARA CRISTAL: What does it all mean, Pablo?

INDIANEL PABLONES: I'm not sure... These pictures.. symbols, whatever they are... they all look kinda like letters.. but there doesn't appear to be any real rhyme or reason as to their positioning.

LARA CRISTAL: What about that big bit of text in the centre, just below the belt?

INDIANEL PABLONES: Hmmm... "A maldição de 12.24.12."

LARA CRISTAL: What does that mean?

INDIANEL PABLONES: Well, "maldição" is "curse".. so I guess everything here on this altar-top is connected to some kind of curse linked to the twenty-fourth of December 2012.

LARA CRISTAL: That's weird.. I thought it was the twenty-FIRST of December that the Mayans predicted the apocalypse? Why would they be telling stories of a curse due to come three days later?

INDIANEL PABLONES: I dunno...

EP attempts to clear some more dust off the engravings, lowering the torch to try and shed as much light on them as possible.

INDIANEL PABLONES: RWW.. ESW.. GRW...

EP sighs, showing signs of more than a little frustration.

INDIANEL PABLONES: ..I just don't know what these letters are supposed to mean!

Cristal places a reassuring hand on EP's shoulder, then cocks her head as something on the alter-top catches her eye.

LARA CRISTAL: Well.. those letters there obviously say CZW... and then, you see that same shape that's beside each of these individual symbols?

INDIANEL PABLONES: Yeah...

LARA CRISTAL: ..Doesn't that look a little like a man standing with his arm raised?

INDIANEL PABLONES: Oh yeah.. I guess, a little... but then, what's this weird shape meant to be, coming down from his "hand?"

EP looks at Cristal, who just tilts her head slightly, staring into the eyes of her boyfriend as if attempting to communicate the answer to him telepathically. Whether she somehow actually achieves this, or the realisation finally comes to him on his own, EP's eyes suddenly widen, and the visible portions of his face noticeably drain a little of their colour.

INDIANEL PABLONES: Oh my god... this whole "December 21st 2012" thing... they've got the dates wrong! I dunno whether it's through leap years or the exchange rate or what.. but.. the 2012 apocalypse isn't gonna happen on December twenty-FIRST... it's December twenty-FOURTH... and it's not gonna be brought about as part of some great mystic prophecy from the Mayans...

..the world is gonna end when Ryan Shane gets to say the words, "The CZW World Heavyweight Championship is MAYAN!"


SUDDENBLINDINGFLASHOFBRIGHTWHITELIGHT!!!

EP sits bolt upright, an audible gasp escaping from between his lips as he frantically looks around his immediate vicinity, eyes wide with shock and alarm. The camera pulls back from him a little, revealing our location to have changed rather dramatically from where we previously knew ourselves to be, as the Technicolour Tecnico now sits on a small series of padded blue seats, inside what appears to be the corridor of a Japanese hospital. His lucha mask is still pulled over his head, but whereas previously it was partially-concealed beneath a brown, wide-brimmed hat, it is now partially-concealed beneath the hood of a bright-green sweater, branded with the CZW and EP/Cristal logos on the left and right breast respectively. EP slowly rubs his face, and lets out a long, loud sigh, attempting to rouse himself from the lingering effects of whatever kind of tortured slumber from within which he was just jolted out. After a few moments, he stands up, and slowly walks across the corridor as the camera pulls back ahead of him, then magically moves through a wall into the next room, as EP stops in front of the window. The composition of the picture shifts slightly, allowing us to see the reflection in the glass of a person lying in a hospital bed, rigged up to various pieces of medical equipment and machinery. A thick layer of gauze and bandages has been wrapped around a considerable portion of their head, and even what little skin has been left exposed remains marked by various combinations of bruising and minor cuts and scrapes. From the top of the head flows shoulder-length hair, mostly black in colour but tinted at the tips with a deep, vibrant red, a few wisps hanging down over the individual's blackened-eyes as they lie in some kind of state of unconsciousness (whether that unconsciousness is intentional or not is, at this precise moment, unclear). As EP maintains his vigil, he is approached from the side by a member of the nursing staff, a sympathetic look upon her face as she places a gentle, comforting hand upon the Five Star Superstar's shoulder.


NURSE TOGI: Would you like me to get you anything, sir?

The nurse leans forward a little, attempting to make eye contact with El Pablo. However, EP does not even appear aware of her presence full-stop, let alone the fact that he has just been posed a question, continuing instead to stare unwaveringly through the window.

NURSE TOGI: ...Mr Pablo?

Still the nurse recieves no response from the Technicolor Tecnico. Sensing that this is likely to remain the case, she squeezes his shoulder gently in an attempt to at least let EP know that someone is there for him, then turns and walks away back up the hallway. The camera focuses back on EP, the "action" lingering for a few moments once again before another body strolls up from the other side of the shot.. a young woman, dressed in a bright pink hooded sweatshirt, her long, dirty-blonde hair hanging loosely down from above a bright, rainbow-coloured lucha face-mask.

CRISTAL: Who's that girl?

Cristal extends a hand towards EP, inside of which she holds a disposable coffee cup. For the first time, EP breaks his gaze, glancing briefly down at the cup as he takes it from his girlfriend before immediately snapping back up and staring into the room again, as he raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip.

EL PABLO: Very funny.

Cristal takes a look into the room at the person in the bed, then turns back to her boyfriend, showing more than a little concern on her face. She slowly moves her hand towards his, and brushes her fingers against his own. EP responds by sliding his gently between hers, a link which draws a small smile from Cristal, though EP himself remains focused on the window. Sensing the need to intervene, Cristal takes a couple of steps towards the seats, tugging lightly on EP's arm in a gesture for him to join her.

CRISTAL: Come... Sit.

Somewhat reluctantly, EP obliges, and takes a seat beside his girlfriend as she reaches into a plastic bag placed on the floor beside them.

CRISTAL: Here...

Cristal pulls out a small plastic carton and hands it to EP.

CRISTAL: ..eat this. It'll make you feel better.

EP opens the carton, and allows himself to smile as he pulls out a rather "executive-looking" burger. He turns to look into his girlfriend's eyes, and as she smiles back, EP leans in and plants a soft, sensual kiss on her lips, lingering for a moment before he sits back and begins to chow down. Cristal takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes focused on her boyfriend as she notices the lack of sleep evident in his own.

CRISTAL: Hey, babe.. have you slept at all since the show?

EL PABLO: Uhmm... No. Well, not deliberately. My body's got the better of me a few times, but, uh.. it never lasts for long.

CRISTAL: You look exhausted... why don't you try and get some sleep here? I'll wake you up if anything changes with Yoshi.

EL PABLO: I can't...

CRISTAL: Why not? What's wrong?

EP sighs.

EL PABLO: I keep having these dreams...

CRISTAL: Ohhhhh... the one where we're in that bath of strawberries and cream?

EL PABLO: Urggh...

CRISTAL: Urggh-stounding!

EP can't help but break out a small chuckle again, although this quickly rescinds as he leans forward and places his burger down on the floor, then begins running his hands over his head and face. Cristal leans forward too, rubbing her hand up and down EP's back, occasionally squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

CRISTAL: Come on... talk to me.

EP sighs again, his hands now cupping his face, his feet tapping frantically on the floor as countless thoughts, emotions and implications of events begin to swirl ever faster around his head.

EL PABLO: It's just... FUCK. We shouldn't be here, Cris! Yoshi shouldn't be here! He was never meant to find himself in this kind of situation! Especially not here.. in his home country.. in front of all his family and friends! Yoshi was never meant to cross paths with a guy like Ryan Shane, or Matt Covey, or even CRYPT! But now, he's laid up in a hospital bed, and the only reason he's in there is because of me! I dragged him onto this runaway rainbow riverboat.. I put him squarely in the firing line of a twisted jackal and his pack of rabid hyenas...

CRISTAL: But, Pabs.. I mean.. we're in the professional wrestling business... it's not exactly unheard of for an individual to have to spend a little bit of time in the hospital every now and then.. especially in a place like CZW!

EL PABLO: I get that, Cris... but there's a bit of a difference between tweaking a muscle, or taking a bad bump through a table.. and being jumped backstage by a stable-full of guys and getting beaten eight ways to shit courtesy of a steel chair! That's not "just part of the business," Cris...

CRISTAL: I guess, but...

EL PABLO: And it's not just Yoshi, either. CZW is currently teetering on the brink of arguably the most cataclysmic event EVER to be inflicted upon its existence... Ryan Shane is just one match away from officially being declared the CZW World Heavyweight Champion, and seeing his plans to stomp and suffocate every last little bit of life out of the CZW before rebuilding it in his own loathsome image finally come to fruition... and the simple truth is, he never should've had the chance to get this close! Derek Damage brought me back to this company for the explicit purpose of bringing an end to The Uprising before it could grow any more powerful.. to superkick the face off of this vile, villainous viper before it coiled itself too far and too tightly around the windpipe of this most beautiful professional-wrestling creation... and the fact of the matter is.. I failed. I failed to beat Ryan Shane at Kingdom Come - with the bases completely loaded in my favour - and in the intervening period between then and now, the hundreds of thousands of people around the world who hold CZW so close to their hearts have been forced to sit back and witness this malevolent movement of malcontents grow ever stronger, ever more focused, ever more depraved, demonic and destructive.. while I've contented myself with prancing around like a Unicorn Wizard, making friends with puppets and hawking junk food!

CRISTAL: But you love prancing around like a Unicorn Wizard...

EL PABLO: I know, and don't get me wrong, the time we've spent here since coming back has been without a doubt the most fun I've ever had... but the fact of the matter is, all that showboating, all that superstarring and Skittle-peddling.. it's just left the door wide open for the Uprising to get their noose nice and tight around this company's neck, all ready for the final push at Event Horizon!

A lot of people have played this up as a war... can you honestly tell me that, at any point during this whole saga, the CZW roster has looked anything like an army.. a team.. a unified collective of any description? From where I'm standing, it's been The Uprising.. versus The Wayward Sons.. versus a load of individuals more preoccupied with shiny things and their own individual desires and destinies than any kind of commitment or motivation to try and eradicate this force that so openly.. so gravely threatens their very livelihoods. I should've been that guy to make them see the big picture... I should've been that guy to rally the troops, and make absolutely fucking CERTAIN that what might very well be the case by the time the curtain comes down on Event Horizon didn't even make it off the fucking drawing board!

CZW needed a hero... Now, thanks to me.. CZW needs a fucking miracle.


EP drops his head, his hands massaging the back of his head and neck. Cristal wraps an arm around her boyfriend's shoulders, placing the other hand gently on his arm and slowly stroking it up and down, a look of solemn concern on her face as the scene fades to black.

----------*****----------

The darkness fades out, as the sound of some generic, up-tempo "hard-rock" music accompanies various rapid-fire shots of CZW Superstars past and present doing what they do best. After a few moments, the picture blurs a little, and the words "CZW Digital Audio-Visual Presentation Advance-Vance" shiver into view over the top. This title screen lingers for a couple of seconds, before filtering away - along with the music - to deliver us a shot of a man with wild, dark brown spiky hair, a trim-yet-prominent beard and dark mascara-lined eyes standing in front of a standard-issue CZW backdrop. The man wears a white dress shirt beneath a black waistcoat, and has a small microphone clearly clipped to his black skinny tie.


MAN: Hello, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to this latest exciting episode of CZW's "Digital Audio-Visual Presentation Advance-Vance"; your ONLY source for the real gossip and weekly news, boos and reviews on everything that is the great professional-wrestling company we call CZW! My name is Gary Megaphone, and of course, all eyes in population CZW are well and truly fixed upon the rapidly approaching internet-Pay-Per-View phenomenon that is sure to be.. Event Horizon! And, of course, of all the big matches and career-defining moments that are set to take place on this coming Monday night - Christmas Eve itself! - there can be few that have quite the buzz.. quite the build.. quite the hype.. and certainly, quite the potential ramifications than those of the show's Main Event; TJ Hix.. "The F'N Boss".. the CZW World Heavyweight Champion, putting his title on the line against "The Straight-Edge Curse".. the leader of The Uprising, Ryan Shane.. and "The Five Star Superstar".. "The Technicolor Tecnico".. and "The Faciest Face on the Face of Planet Pro-Wrestling," El Pablo! A lot of things at stake, and a lot of talent on show.. but, when it comes to predicting a winner... let's just say that the CZW audience is more than a little divided on that one, as our man in the field, "Handycam" Michael Stam found out!

Megaphone makes an elaborate pointing gesture towards the camera, at which point static suddenly overtakes the screen. It flickers on and off for a couple of seconds, before cutting to a shot of a shaven-headed man, dressed in a hooded CZW sweatshirt, filming himself with a handycam on a bustling city street.

HANDYCAM: Hello there, CZW, this is your man in the field, "Handycam" Michael Stam, embarking once again on a quest to bring you, the CZW "Digital Audio-Visual Presentation Advance-vance" viewers, the word on the street regarding the burning issues bubbling in the CZW consciousness right now! This week's question is very simple... "Who is going to win the HISTORIC Main Event at Event Horizon, and walk out of Tokyo, Japan as the UNDISPUTED CZW World Heavyweight Champion?"

Static flashes across the screen again, cueing a cut to "Generic Male Wrestling Fan #1."

GMWF#1: Well, obviously I'm rooting for El Pablo - Fruity, fruity Skittles! - to get the win; I think it'd be awesome to see him with the belt.. and, you know, the dude's hilarious, so... But, uhhh, that said, I've gotta be honest and say that I think Ryan Shane's gonna be the one with the belt at the end of the night. It sucks, because the guy's a fucking asshole.. but he's a fucking asshole with talent!

More static, and we now find ourselves looking at "Wrestling Fan Dad With Merched-Up Kids."

WFDWMUK: Well, my boys'll hate me forever if I don't say I want El Pablo to win... but I think Hix is gonna retain the belt on Monday night. Just a feeling.. I think maybe Shane and Pablo will be too focused on destroying each other, and forget about the Boss-man until it's too late.

KKKKKKKHHHHHHT!!!! Here's "Holy Shit She is One Hot Wrestling Fangirl!"

HSSOHWF: I reeeeeaaaaalllllllllly hope El Pablo picks up the win.. he's so funny! I think it's gonna be Ryan Shane, though... sad times.

Another blast of static brings us face-to-face with.. hey, that's CZW Superstar and new Wayward Sons member Mike Monroe!

MONROE: To be honest, Ryan has been ruthless.. and I don't see anyone stopping him anytime soon.



HA! Get it.. static? Anyway, here's Hispanic Wrestling Fan #27!


HANDYCAM: Who are you gonna be cheering for at Event Horizon when the bell rings for the Main Event?

HWF#27: El Pablo, man.. for sure.

HANDYCAM: Do you think he's gonna win?

HWF#27: Hmmmmm... I don't think so. I mean.. he's funny and all, and I love all his shenanigans and stuff... but that kind of stuff only gets you so far in this business, you know? To be the Champ you gotta take that shit serious... and, god bless him for it, but I just don't think Pablo's that guy, man.

HANDYCAM: So who DO you think's gonna win?

HWF#27: Hmmmmm... Hix.

HANDYCAM: Hix? How come?

HWF#27: He's the champ, man! You know he's gonna be doing everything he can to keep that gold around his waist... it ain't gonna be as easy to put him down as some people might think!

With that, a final burst of static transports us back to Gary Megaphone in the studio, an interested look upon his face.

MEGAPHONE: Well.. interesting stuff as always there from our man in the field, "Handycam" Michael Stam... and it looks like, while El Pablo has a clear runaway victory as far as the popular vote goes.. when it comes down to who people actually THINK is gonna be holding that title belt by the end of the night, it seems to be a pretty-even toss-up between a successful retention for the man on top, TJ Hix.. and an historic first World Heavyweight Championship victory for The Uprising and Ryan Shane. How will this landmark match REALLY pan out? The only way you're gonna find out is to tune in LIVE to Event Horizon, this coming Monday night, December 24th.. EXCLUSIVELY on CZW.com! I'm Gary Megaphone.. and THIS.. was "CZW Digital Audio-Visual Presentation Advance-vance.

The generic "hard-rock" music returns to the scene and the credits begin to roll, as the camera slowly pulls back to reveal a laptop screen, shining out brightly in an otherwise-pitch-black room. The camera then spins 180 degrees to show "The Technicolor Tecnico" El Pablo, sat Indian-style on a plush, black leather couch, his chin propped up by his closed fists as he stares solemnly down at the laptop sat on a large wooden coffee table in front of him. As the production comes to an end, EP leans back, arching his back and stretching as he lets out a deep sigh. He then pauses in position for a moment, eyes gazing up at the ceiling in apparent silent contemplation.. before getting to his feet and slowly walking off to the side, out of view. The camera holds its stance, lingering on the couch being illuminated by the light from the laptop, until the sound of a door being opened and then firmly shut thunders out across the darkness, cueing the camera to cut immediately to black.

----------*****----------

The darkness lingers for a few moments before lifting once again, delivering unto us the image of Cristal making her way somewhat-hurriedly along a quiet, night-time city street. The top of her masked head is covered up by a nice, big, fluffy, rainbow-squirrel hat, and her torso is wrapped up in a think, pink CZW-branded padded jacket. The camera follows in front of her (shut up, that makes perfect sense) for a few moments, before allowing her to pass as we continue our walk. As the camera turns to film from behind her, it is revealed that we are currently walking along the seafront of Tokyo, the bright city lights reflecting and shimmering beautifully in the gently-rocking waters of Tokyo Bay. After a while, our attentions begin to focus upon a lone figure, currently sitting on a small ledge right by the water, his upper body leant forwards so his arms are resting on his thighs. The camera shifts position again, revealing this person to be El Pablo, who continues to stare glibly down at the water as Cristal silently takes a seat beside him.


EL PABLO: How'd you know I was here?

CRISTAL: Well.. I saw what you'd been watching on the laptop.. so I figured you'd be in the mood for some powerful moonlit introspection. I also figured you'd be by the sea, because usually when it's time for a major, significant CZW contest, you like to head out and conduct that introspection in a place from your past that bears some kind of relation to that contest.. but, you know, America is a long way away, and we've kinda got a show coming up in the next few days, so I figured this'd be a "close enough"-type deal as far as you were concerned. As for why you're in THIS spot, specifically? Well.. before I left I pulled up Google Earth, and I happen to know that in exactly that direction...

Cristal points out over the bay.

CRISTAL: ..is the US Bank Arena in Cincinnati, Ohio, the place where you won your first and thus far only CZW World Heavyweight Championship.

A small smile spreads across the face of El Pablo, though his eyes maintain a sense of melancholy as he lifts his head to face his girlfriend.

EL PABLO: You're good.

CRISTAL: Well, you know...

Cristal leans in and kisses EP on the head, placing an arm around him and pulling him close for a hug before EP turns and focuses his eyes back on the water beneath his feet.

EL PABLO: I don't think I can beat him, Cris.

CRISTAL: Who?

EL PABLO: Ryan Shane. I... I don't think I can beat him. Eight times, he and I have faced off against each other... and on seven of those occasions, I've wound up on the losing side.. and the one time I DID pull out the victory... well, to be honest, I don't even remember that happening, so it may as well be 0 and 7 as far as I'm concerned. No matter what I do.. no matter what the situations and stipulations, the times, places and tag partners... the miserable motherfucker just seems to have my number.

I mean.. I have poured my heart and soul into every match we've had.. I've been so meticulous and methodical in my research and preparation, b-


CRISTAL: Ermmm, well.. no, you haven't.

EP suddenly sits upright, looking into the eyes of his girlfriend with his head cocked inquisitively to the side.

EL PABLO: ..'Scuse me?

CRISTAL: Come on, baby... you know that as well as I do.

EL PABLO: ...How do you figure?

CRISTAL: Well, let's just take a metaphorical look back through the archives, shall we?

EL PABLO: Can't we do it literally? The camera's right h-

CRISTAL: No, we can't.

EP clasps his hand mockingly over his mouth, as Cristal looks at him sternly.

CRISTAL: Let's think back.. just off the top of my head.. to March 7th, 2011... you and Brian Blaze versus Ryan Shane and Justin Marsham in EWA.. "Too Damn Sexy" against "The Technical Curse"... what do you remember about your preparations for that match?

EL PABLO: Uhhmmmm... bit of cardio.. tri's.. bi's.. thighs...

CRISTAL: No, you didn't.

EL PABLO: ..Hours of intense video and literary research in the local library?

CRISTAL: You spent an entire day dicking around in a costume store, then got drunk with Blaze and the gang and started fighting with members of the Puerto Rican community!

EL PABLO: Woah woah woah! A provoked confrontation! Against one individual!

CRISTAL: You superkicked a waitress!

EL PABLO: In a hilarious visual throwback to a previous pr-okay, I see your point.

EP hunches forward again, as silence overtakes the couple, Cristal once more absent-mindedly massaging EP's back and shoulders.

EL PABLO: Well, this week that all has to change... I've gotta beat Ryan Shane, Cris.. for you and me.. for Yoshi.. for the good of CZW and professional wrestling as a whole!

Ryan Shane can NOT be allowed to leave Japan with the World Heavyweight Championship... Honestly, it doesn't really even matter whether it's myself or Hix who gets to hold the gold at the end of the night... I just know it can't be Ryan Shane.. it can't be The Uprising.. it CAN'T BE.. the people who want nothing more than to transform this great, beautiful wrestling company into a goddamn monsters' ball!


Another deep sigh is forcefully expelled from within EP's lips, the Five Star Superstar tapping his fingers as he gazes out across the Bay towards Cincinnati. Once again, silence descends upon the scene. After a couple of seconds, the camera slowly and meaningfully begins to close in upon the face of the Technicolor Tecnico... as his eyes widen in the universal symbol of "HOLY SHIT I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING!!!"

EL PABLO: Holy shit.. I just thought...

Cristal turns to face her boyfriend, as she slides her hand down his arm and takes hold of his hand, their fingers locking together.

EL PABLO: ..I know what I have to do.

I know how I can beat Ryan Shane...


The camera slowly fades to black.
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El Pablo
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VIVA LA RAINBOWLUTION!!!

The sound of ominous, industrial, electrical humming cues the dissipation of the darkness once again, transporting us to a scene quite unlike any other we have seen in this context, at least for some considerable amount of time. The footage is dark (because this whole promo has been dark as shit, yo!), entirely in night-vision, and filmed from a position somewhere near a top corner of the tiny, box-shaped room inside which we currently find ourselves, creating the impression of our watching footage filmed via CCTV camera. As for the room itself.. as mentioned, it is very small in size, no more than a few feet across on either axis. The walls appear to be completely lined in a thick layer of padding, with no windows or any other source of light - natural or artificial - anywhere to be seen. The only objects visible inside this room are a small, rather rickety-looking bed set up against one wall.. and, on the opposite side, a rather simple-looking toilet. Stood in the centre, pacing slowly back and forth across the floor, is El Pablo, dressed in a simple t-shirt and pants combination, although his mask still covers his face. The camera watches on for a few moments, before a sudden burst of static and white noise leads to a slight jolt forward in time, with EP now sitting Indian-style on the bed, singing softly to himself.

EL PABLO: Holding on to what you got.. Making plans just to stay alive...

Another burst of static, and EP can now be seen charging back and forth, jumping into the walls and bouncing down into a crumpled heap on the floor.

KKKKKKKHHHHHHT!!!!

Another shift, and EP is sat back on the bed.


EL PABLO: Doing time.. oh I bet you will.. I'm doing mine by the side of the road...

KKKKKKKHHHHHHT!!!!

More static, as EP now kneels on the floor by what one can assume is the door, scratching at the padding as he appears to try and plead with whoever may be listening on the other side.


EL PABLO: Please, man... just one packet... just to take the edge off! Come on, man.. you don't understand... They're coming... I can.. I can hear them coming...

KKKKKKKHHHHHHT!!!!

EP is now sat on the floor in the centre of the room, hands positioned in front of him, fingers curled and pinched together slightly as if holding something.. though, of course, nothing is there.


EL PABLO: Do you have any.. threes?

EP casts an eye around the portion of the room just in front of him, as if awaiting an answer. After a second or two, a high-pitched voice can be heard, as EP can clearly be seen muttering out of one side of his mouth.

EL PABLO: Shit, I have a whole bunch of threes!

EL PABLO: HaHA! Thankyou very much, Carmen!


A third voice now becomes audible, somewhat muffled by EP cupping his hand over his mouth.

EL PABLO: Wow, EEPZ, you keep this up and you'll get all the pieces of the Twister mat before you know it!

EL PABLO: Heh, you never know, Waldo! Hey, Elmo! Pour us a Skittles Bomb, would ya?


KKKKKKKHHHHHHT!!!!

Back to EP on the bed.


EL PABLO: Then you realise.. coz it's in my eyes... Yeah, look who's laughing now...

KKKKKKKHHHHHHT!!!!

We now return to the shot of EP pacing slowly back and forth, the currently-black-and-green Tecnico rolling his wrists in front of him as he keeps his eyes focused on the floor just ahead of him, a cold, emotionless look on what visible percentage of his face there is.


EL PABLO: You know... it's funny. As my years in this great, glorious, absolutely-fucked-up business known as professional wrestling have ticked by, I seem to have garnered somewhat of a reputation for being... a little bit "whacky".. a little bit "off-the-wall".. a little bit... indicative of a certain kind of "insanity."

A brief chuckle escapes from EP's lips as he continues his pacing.

EL PABLO: I always went along with it.. even embraced it... partly because, you know, why fight who you are? But also because.. I dunno.. in a business like professional wrestling.. and particularly in a part of that business like CZW... there seems to be a certain kind of stature associated with having yourself placed somewhere near the sharp end of the sliding scale of "crazy." Certainly, CZW has made no shame throughout its long and illustrious history as being somewhat of a haven for the freaks and weirdos of the world.

But, there is a very deliberate reason why I used the term "a certain kind" of insanity... because I can tell you right now.. TRUE insanity is something one can only begin to appreciate after nearly 24 hours spent inside a small, padded room.. jack-shit by fuck-all feet in size... total isolation.. total darkness.. no food, water or tiny candied treats... the complete and total absence of any kind of sensory satisfaction or stimulation whatsoever... leaving the individual with nothing to do but just sit around and feel his mind.. his consciousness.. his very concepts of day and night.. fantasy and reality... all slowly unravel within him and fall in a tangled, un-unravelable pile around his feet on the damp, dark, cold and unforgiving floor.

Drastic measures, I hear you say. Well, ladies and gentlemen of the CZW audience, the fact is that we find ourselves in drastic times. This Monday night at Event Horizon - CZW's new Flagship iPay-Per-View - Ryan Shane.. the Straight-Edge Curse.. the Anti-Christ of CZW and the narcissistic, fascististic leader of The Uprising.. finds himself in a main event, triple-threat match for the CZW World Heavyweight Championship. Ryan Shane.. the Straight-Edge Curse.. the Anti-Christ of CZW and the narcissistic, fascististic leader of The Uprising.. is but a three-count away from FINALLY taking ownership of that which has, for so long, created an intense, golden gleam in his eye... and, if that most apocalyptic of scenarios should happen to come to fruition.. then Ryan Shane.. the Straight-Edge Curse.. the Anti-Christ of CZW and the narcissistic, fascististic leader of The Uprising.. will finally have the perfect opportunity.. the very opening he's been waging war for since his return to this particular battlefield.. to take his cold, calloused, death-delivering hands.. wrap them tightly around the soft, supple throat of this company.. and squeeze every last drop of life out of it, until every single aspect that we all, as members of the CZW family, hold so dear about it has been completely, indiscriminantly and unceremoniously destroyed.

It is quite simple, ladies and gentlemen... If Ryan Shane becomes CZW World Heavyweight Champion on Monday night at Event Horizon... then CZW will die. Everything everybody who has ever been associated with this great company has worked so hard and so tirelessly to achieve... all the legacies and triumphs of great competitors like Ace King, The Zodiac Thrilla, Matt Stylez, Jesse Montana, Ruthless Aggression, Karl Jackson and Mortius... they will all die, cast into the fires and left to burn to ash in the dark, deathly shadow of Ryan Shane's own bastard re-creation.

With all that in mind... there is something I would like to say to each and every single one of you watching this broadcast right now...

..I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for not being the leader of "Team CZW" that I should so obviously have been.

Fuck, I'm sorry that, for all intents and purposes, there hasn't even BEEN a "Team CZW" throughout this whole sorry state of affairs! There've been pockets of resistance, sure.. namely myself, Eddie and Spence, Cage and latterly Alan Fiscus.. but there has never, at any point, been one big concerted, co-ordinated effort to snuff out this stampede of slugs and sycophants, and cast them back out into the pro-wrestling purgatory they so obviously deserve to be left festering in! We've all sat idly by, too preoccupied with stroking our own egos and hawking our own merchandise to take any kind of proper action against The Uprising, and instead it's fallen to Mike King - MIKE FUCKING KING - and his merry band of mid-carders to try and stave off the inevitable.. and not even for OUR cause! And honestly, I swear to god, I do not mean any disrespect to Mike and the rest of the Sons.. but the fact of it is, it's the CZW Elite who should've been standing there front and centre on the battlefield, standing tall with a well-prepared, focused and fucking fighting-ready army behind us ready to crush that little fledgeling resistance like we so obviously could have done had we just pulled our heads out of our fucking assholes for twenty minutes and seen even a single corner of the bigger picture!


EP suddenly storms over to the wall and slams his fist against it again, the frustration and anger inside of him evident for all to see. He turns.. then suddenly swings back around, hammering a few more times against the wall, yelling out as he finishes with a kick and steps back into the centre of the room.

EL PABLO: But... no more. It may be late in the day.. the Barbarians may be beating at the big old front door to our Combat Zone Castle... but there is still hope. There is still a chance.. still a single small sliver of opportunity.. to turn this fight around and win the day for CZW.

You see, ladies and gentlemen, it is obvious to me now.. obvious that I - and indeed a rather large percentage of this erstwhile "Team CZW" as a whole - have been in DIRE need of a pretty big fucking wake-up call throughout this war... and in the past couple of weeks, during all the hype and build-up and bravado as we head into the crowning final moment of CZW 2012 calendar... this fluffy little dragon-squirrel's wake-up call has been well-and-truly recieved.

See.. with the potential complete and total annihilation of my CZW career on the Horizon - pun only slightly intended - I couldn't help but start thinking about what it is my time here in CZW would be remembered for. I mean, I've been here since January 6th, 2008... I'm one of the only people still employed by this company who can say they were there at the very start of it all... that kinda shit's gotta make for one hell of a legacy, right!?

Personally, I thought it was pretty obvious the kind of things I'd be remembered for... but then I got to hearing what the fans were saying about the potential directions they thought this triple-threat match was going to go in... and, well, it started to put a little bit of doubt in my mind.

As it turns out.. while everybody seems pretty unanimously in favour of the IDEA of El Pablo winning the World Heavyweight Championship at Event Horizon - and I thank each and every one of you, from the bottom of my heart, for that... their predictions for who is ACTUALLY going to wind up the winner appear to be rather exclusively divided between Ryan Shane and TJ Hix. Everywhere I turned.. every radio show I tuned to.. every blog and news site I clicked on.. it seemed like everyone was pulling out the same old analysis...

"I HOPE El Pablo wins, but I think it'll be Ryan Shane."

"I HOPE El Pablo gets the victory, but I think it'll be TJ Hix."

"I HOPE El Pablo leaves Japan as the CZW World Heavyweight Champion, but I think he'll be dancing Gangnam Style around a life-size sculpture of Jim Henson made entirely out of Skittles and fairy dust."


EP sighs.

EL PABLO: Now, don't get me wrong... I LOVE the fact that everybody gets a kick out of my promotional activities and my decision to live my life in a general state of "Shenanigans!". I've made no secret of my overwhelming desire to entertain the masses at every opportunity.. and I will maintain until there is no blood, oxygen, chakras or chi left inside this devilishly-handsome collection of skin and bones I call a body that all of you people watching right now are THE single most important part of this beautiful industry we call professional wrestling... but, to be completely honest.. for me to sit here and listen to commentator after fan after journalist after fellow professional all-but completely write me out of the running for this World Heavyweight Championship match... well, it kinda gets me thinking...

It kinda gets me thinking that... maybe people have forgotten...

Maybe people have forgotten that I'm the ONLY man in the history of this company to achieve the Grand Slam of Tag-Team Champion, X-Division Champion, Intercontinental Champion AND World Heavyweight Champion...

Maybe people have forgotten that I have spent more days as an employee of CZW with some kind of title belt around my waist than ANY OTHER wrestler - past or present - that has ever set foot inside a CZW ring...

Five-hundred-and-eighteen days as a CZW Champion... adjusting for inflation, bearing in mind we now put on shows half as often as we used to, that adds up to the equivalent of NINE-HUNDRED-AND-THIRTY-SIX DAYS.. OVER TWO-AND-A-HALF YEARS worth of professional wrestling competition that The Five Star Superstar has got to stroll out into arenas, bars and bingo halls around the world with a glistening piece of gold wrapped around his brightly-coloured waist! That is more than HALF of this company's entire active lifespan! NOBODY in the history of this company can even come CLOSE to that number... not Ace King.. not Jesse Montana.. not Eddie Rowan.. not even Alan Fiscus himself.. can lay claim to the legacy of Championship Gold that I have forged for myself here!

And yet.. despite all of that... I still find myself getting the impression that people see me more as the comic relief in a sea of arrogance, assholes and activities that would result in a LOT of fucking jail-time were they not conducted under the self-attorneying banner of a professional wrestling organistion... I still find myself getting the impression that people view me as an all-out "entertainer," rather than an elite fighting machine... and I accept that all of that is pretty-much entirely my fault. I mean, throughout my four years I've certainly never attempted to shy away from awesome catchphrases.. hilarious set-pieces and celebrity cameos.. thinly-veiled marketing ploys and THE most long-winded, surrealist journeys along some weird rambling tangent with only the most tenuous connection to whatever my current affairs are within the ring... and, god help me, if I have my way, all that shit ain't gonna be stopping any time soon! But.. I dunno.. I guess I always just figured that my accomplishments in the ring would be the thing that people still remembered most.. that they wouldn't get lost and obscured beneath the rainbow rivers of bullshit I kept running off and bathing myself in...

Well.. believe me when I say that this most certainly will not be a concern by the time Event Horizon rolls around.

Now, don't you fret, boys and girls.. I'm not gonna be going out of my way to become an asshole, and try and outdo Hix and Shane at their own miserable, sociopathic little game.. no, no, no.

What I AM going to do... is simply give them, and indeed every single one of you, the most stark reminder of who exactly El Pablo the professional wrestler REALLY is.

Ryan Shane... I know you're watching this right now.. sat there in your bunker, positively soaking your shorts at the knowledge that you, finally, are within touching distance of achieving that sadistic dream you've been holding onto ever since you first set foot in Supreme Wrestling three years ago. Well, let me tell you something, Ryan... that dream is NOT going to come true.

Now, I now I don't exactly have the most "glowing" record in competition against you.. in fact, as far as I'm concerned you ARE currently 7 and 0 in battle against the Five Star Superstar. Have the people, thus far, seen any cause or reason to think that this particular battle won't go the exact same way?

Probably not.

BUT - and I know this is SUCH a cliché when it comes to hyping yourself up for a professional wrestling contest... the El Pablo you're going to be stepping into the ring with on Christmas Eve is NOTHING LIKE any El Pablo you've ever faced before.


EP visibly grimaces for a second as he continues to pace, his eyes not once shifting from the floor just in front of his feet.

EL PABLO: God.. I know... such a cringeworthy thing to say... But, just look around. Take a look at everything you see here before you.. everything about the scene in which I am currently standing right now.

No jokes.

No skits.

No celebrity cameos.

No product placement.

Nothing but cold, suffocating, absolutely impenetrable darkness.. the very kind of darkness that your shadow will cast on the face of Planet CZW should you manage to take possession of that World Heavyweight Championship Belt on Monday night.

I'm sure you'll agree that there is NOTHING about this environment that one would describe as "typically El Pablo" ..and I know for a fact that you, more than anyone, will know why I have made the decision to bring these particular set of circumstances about.


EP smirks a little, stroking his chin as he mulls over his next words.

EL PABLO: There's a quote you said to me, back when we first locked horns with each other... something that has always stuck with me, but that has particular relevance and significance to this moment right here.. right now...

"El Pablo... you're exactly the kind of guy I'm talking about. Look at yourself, you've got it all, right? You've got millions of fans world wide! You've got cash flowing in from those constant merchandise sales! El Pablos the T-shirt! El Pablo the Lunch Box! El Pablo the Flamethrower! Now why should I have any reason to think you're getting the shaft in CZW? Well think about it! You're no longer a pro-wrestler, you're a character!"

..and that, right there, is the crux of it. Up until this point, every time we've stepped into the ring against each other.. you've been stepping up against El Pablo the "character."

Now, I'm not gonna do you the disservice.. or offer up the excuse that that in some way means I have not given absolutely 100% of myself in those contests, because I can assure you, I have. I have put every single last little bit of my heart.. my soul.. my passion.. my intensity and my integrity into FINALLY, for god's sake FINALLY getting that big one-two-three over you... and, every time, you've just managed to be that little bit better. Ain't no denying it.. and, honestly, ain't no shame in it, either.

That being said.. this IS going to be a whole different kettle of Skittles when you and I step into that ring at Event Horizon... because this time, you will actually HAVE to kill me to make sure you walk out of that arena with the World Heavyweight Championship belt around your waist. Again.. words often spoken, but I need to assure you, Ryan Shane, that I am more focused.. more determined.. more absolutely set on denying you that realisation of your dreams than any man you have EVER stepped up against. "The Technicolour Tecnico" is sat at home.. "The Five Star Superstar" is on the sidelines... this Monday night, you're going up against El Pablo, THE MOST SUCCESSFUL COMPETITOR IN THE HISTORY OF COMBAT ZONE WRESTLING!!!

You wanna know why I've taken these rather.. unusual.. methods of preparation, Ryan? You wanna know why I've hold myself up in this claustrophobic-freak-out-in-waiting like Schroedinger's Dragon-Squirrel?

Well.. with all that's been said about this match.. with all that's been said about this rivalry between us.. and with all that's been said about MY place within the annals of CZW history... I knew I had to come up with something big... I knew I had to come up with something special... I knew I had to come up with something that would PERFECTLY channel the focus, intensity and frame of mind I found myself in possession of when last I held that gorgeous Championship belt within my hand!

And then it hit me.. while I was sittin' on the dock of the bay like Otis Redding himself... Monsters' Ball.

That was the stipulation the last time I got to call myself the World Heavyweight Champion.

THESE were the conditions in which I was forced to undergo my preparations... twenty-four gruelling hours of no food.. no water.. no light.. no company.. no sense of anything but the feeling of my desire.. my intensity.. my will to win and all the very worst, most primal, combatative parts of the human mind and mentality building and building up inside of me, just waiting for the sound of that first bell to ring so I could unleash all that hunger.. all that thirst.. all that HATE on anyone between those ropes who dared stand in my way!

When I was finally allowed to walk out of that door.. out of that horrible fucking empty space on October 31st 2008.. I knew that I was walking out as the imminent CZW World Heavyweight Champion... and, bearing in mind everything at stake and all the talk and tittle-tattle surrounding this upcoming iPay-Per-View Main Event... I knew that I had to bring myself right back here.. back to this room.. back to that place I haven't allowed myself to return to since...

No distractions.

No dilution of focus.

No urge or opportunity to slip back into the showboating, shenanigans and superstardom that has so blinded my view of the bigger picture in the past.

Nothing but me and my thoughts... thoughts of what I had.. what I was.. what I could be and SHOULD be once again... and on top of all of it.. thoughts of how much I fucking HATE everything that Ryan Shane stands for.. and how utterly fucking satisfying it is going to be to see The Uprising crumble and die at my hands on Christmas Eve.

I'm hungry for your flesh, Ryan Shane...

I'm thirsty for your blood...

I'm cold, alone and isolated, and every single nerve-ending in my body is positively tingling in anticipation, just waiting for the opportunity to break out of this fucking cell.. leap into your arms... and rip that snake-like head right off of your slithering, serpentine spinal column!

Ryan Shane... I know you've said in the past that the two of us need each other... how, like Yin and Yang, our perpetual existence alongside each other ensures a continuing sense of balance and order and perpetual entertainment within the professional wrestling universe.

Honestly? I'm inclined to agree.

Unfortunately.. come Event Horizon.. that balance can no longer be allowed to exist. There has to be an end.. there WILL BE an end. You're gonna have to kill me to stop me leaving Japan with that title belt.. and I know full-well I'm gonna have to do the same to you to stop you bringing about the apocalypse that you so desperately desire to inflict upon this little corner of the universe.

Who's going to be crowned the World Heavyweight Champion at Event Horizon?

...I guess whoever's carcass burns the slowest.


EP continues his pacing, as the camera slowly.. finally.. mercifully.. fades to black for the final time.
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