Post by Jet Somers on Dec 8, 2012 17:57:46 GMT -5
Stave the First
Winter has set in that strange fluctuating setting that is sometimes New
York, sometimes LA, but altogether nowhere in between.
Having started early in the day, Travis Pierce has neglected to get up
from his desk and turn on the heat. As the night wears on, the cold
creeps in, setting him to shivering subconsciously.
As he flips through files and news stories, makes notes, and tries to
decide in his mind which of the many iterations of his show will be
appropriate for the biggest one of the year, suddenly a misplaced gust of
frigid breeze ruffles his papers across the desk.
Travis frantically snatches at his work, looking about for the source of
the draft. A clank catches his attention. Travis stands up from the desk,
frustrated with being obviously pranked. He searches around the room,
hoping to catch the intruder in the act.
He notices that one of the cameras is on, and goes to turn it off. As he is
flipping the switch, the loud clank is repeated, and he turns around to
see that his desk chair is now occupied. Jet Somers, hands on the desk,
head bowed.
“I thought I told you not to come back here,” Travis snarls.
Jet raises his head slowly as he pushes off the table. As he rises, it
becomes apparent that he is covered in chains, the chains are attached
to several championship belts. No, all of the championship belts. Every
title Jet has ever held now hangs from his shoulders by chains.
“Legacies can be a prison, if we let them,” he murmurs. His face is pale,
weary, and beaten. His voice echoes as if from another room.
“What is this?” Travis wonders, “You’re no ghost. You’re not even dead. I
probably fell asleep while I was working, and you’re probably just some
bad cheap pizza I had for lunch.”
“I am a vision of what your life will become should you keep on the path
you are on,” Jet whispers.
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Tonight you will be visited by three spirits,” Jet warns, “each will have a
lesson for you. If you endure their visits, and heed their lessons, you
may escape this fate.”
Travis grins his game show smile, and begins to walk around the room.
“I get it,” he affirms, “That’s Reznik doing the disembodied voice in the
studio. Jones has a big fan and is hiding in that closet over there. I
thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see you three in here anymore.”
He turns back to the desk, and at his request, Jet has already
disappeared.
Stave the Second
As the hours tick away, and Travis begins nodding off, there is a knock
at the office door. Travis jumps, startled, then rolls his eyes, expecting
more shenanigans from Judas Somers. He sighs as he gets up and
stomps toward the door. He flings it open, and there in a silver miniskirt
and pink halter top, framed perfectly in the doorway like a sex goddess,
is Gabrielle Montgomery.
“Hey sexy.”
“Gabby?” Travis is honestly stunned to see her, “What the hell are you
doing here?”
“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” Gabrielle grabs his shoulders and plants a wet
kiss right on his lips, “I’m not here on some revenge rampage for what
you and Bummers did to me.”
“Finally want a piece of Truth then, huh?” Travis smirks.
“Came to offer some,” she grins.
“I’m the Ghost of UGWC Past,” she steers him toward the studio, and, as
they enter, she waves toward the monitors. They come to life, each
showing a scene from the history of the company.
“Winning the Carnage Match; being named Breakthrough Star; becoming
the face of one of the most dominating groups in wrestling history, being
the general in the Entertainment vs Talent war. Remember Infinity last
year? How glorious we were?” Gabrielle flirts.
“I remember,” Travis shrugs, “I remember Robert Ooley put all of it
together so we were his puppets. I remember figuring out pretty much
from day one that he didn’t care about a single one of us.”
“That’s right!” Gabby runs one finger sexily down his chest and stops
midway, “You knew in here what was going on. But you played along.
Why?”
“I knew that eventually I could spin it to my advantage. I just needed
the right edge,” Travis remembers.
“And that edge wasn’t me, was it?” Gabby puts on a cute pout, her red
lipstick inviting, “Even though you knew that I got played right into that
beast’s bed, another puppet. You needed someone else.”
“Jet,” Travis mutters.
“Jet,” she smirks, “was the one who helped you get all the things Ol’ Bob
promised and never delivered. UGWC was about the two of you, and the
media empire you had created together, for more than six months this
year. No one will ever forget it. Take care that you don’t.”
Travis stares into the bank of monitors, watching as he and Jet win the
Cooperative Championships, defended them over and over, put down
Marek Daisuke’s invitational tournament, develop new shows, gain
influence in the Creative Department, become the measure by which all
other teams are compared, and overall became the poster children for
the first half of the year in the company.
“We were glorious.”
He turns to where Gabrielle was standing only moments before, only to
find that she had disappeared in the space of a few moments. He turns
back, but the screens are dark.
Stave the Third
He has spent too much time bothering with these apparitions. He makes
his way back to his desk, intent on getting something produced before
the end of the night. Rob has gone home hours ago, which means he’s
going to have to use the pre-recorded version of the opening
introduction. He hates that thing, it sounds so phoned in.
As he is reminding himself to order Rob to tape a new one, he notices a
typed page centered directly in front of his chair. He sits down and
scoops it up.
“Dear Travis Pierce,
It has come to my attention that you have been faltering as of late.
I blame this mostly on the mismanagement of your entertainment skills.
But partially, I blame it on you.
You see, I wouldn’t have expected Robert Ooley, who probably now
regards you as prodigal, to accept any investment into your future after
his first one soured. That is perhaps his loss. Moss Edwards, with whom
you’ve had immeasurable success, has chosen to step down from his
position, folding under the pressures of being both a champion and an
executive. And Dexter Vines chooses churning out poor copies of you
over capitalizing on your potential. Sure, they each bear a bit of the
burden.
Last week it really became apparent to me what the real problem
was, however.
Unlike most of your detractors, I’m not going to accuse you of
riding Jet’s coattails. Obviously, you were a star in your own right before
he, or the HRD, or even UGWC got a hold of you. What I will point out is
that in his absence, you have tried to fill a void you had no business
tampering with.
The Piercing Weapons worked because each of you played to your
strengths while venturing carefully into the other man’s territory under
his guidance. Your combat skills made a marked improvement, while
Jet’s on camera persona became much more marketable. As a cohesive
unit, you began to be able to step into one another’s shoes from time to
time, and with increasing frequency.
Now that he has been unable to compete, unable to guide you, you
have tried to bear both his load and your own. In doing so, you have
failed miserably in his role, while neglecting your own role into
irrelevance. You are trying to be the Weapon, and losing the piercing
edge to your entertainment empire.
The Piercing Survivor should never have happened. Your team at
Outlast was a joke. You banked so much on in ring ability when, to be
honest, that was never your strong point. When Jet had his surgery, he
was made into UGWC’s Talent Scout. Not Entertainment Scout. Talent.
Because that is his variable in the equation. Not yours.
It started off well. Remi Monroe as Captain 80s was a short lived
but rousingly successful study in the marriage between talent and
entertainment. After that, you dropped the ball. While Jet explored new
talent, you floundered around in waste. While UGWC moved forward,
and even Jet’s protégé’s, Ignorance and Want themselves, moved
forward, you began to sink into obscurity.
My advice to you, if you want a future in this company, is to stick to
what you’re good at. Get back to the entertainment. This past month you
have invented a brand new show, and already things are looking up.
Keep it going, or face irrelevance.
Just my professional advice.
The Evaluator
Ghost of UGWC Present
Stave the Fourth
He lets the paper settle down on top of the mess, and slumps back in the
chair. Travis wishes he knew the identity of this omniscient Evaluator. He
could imagine it being someone like Declan Prescott, Raenius, or even
Travis Roberts.
“Well, it isn’t The Most Interesting Cameo Personality in UGWC,” Travis
Roberts says from over his shoulder.
Travis leaps about four feet out of his chair and backs away from the
desk. This Travis Roberts is a Travis-ty. He weighs about five hundred
pounds, has a full flowing beard, and there’s grease around his
disgusting jowls.
“What the hell happened to you?” Travis P. is aghast at The Headliner’s
appearance.
“The Entire Future of the United Global Wrestling Coalition in Ghostly
Form has no idea what you mean,” Travis R. informs him.
“Future huh?” The Piercing Host chuckles, “I guess guest starring in the
background of Donovan’s promos for years has taken its toll on you.”
“The Most Attractive Man over a Quarter Ton wonders how you’re going
to look after years of co-starring in the Somers Media Empire?”
There is a pause as the Travises stare each other down.
“That will never happen,” Pierce is suddenly very serious.
“It can and it has, at least in The Most Influential Ghost You’ve Met So
Far’s time,” he reports, “Matter of fact, there are a lot of ways the next
few years can go. You can become like Travis Roberts, or you can cease
to exist as an entertainment professional as your career gets eclipsed by
the ever evolving business that you’ve stopped adapting to.”
“And let me guess,” Travis P. smirks, “that means I have to trust that
Opie didn’t actually betray me.”
“Hey, it’s not The Former Most Relevant Entertainment Professional’s
fault,” Roberts shrugs, “if the Truth hurts.”
WHITE OUT
Stave the Fifth
Backstage at the United Center, Travis Pierce awaits the call as he
knows his fellow Cooperative Champion is waiting. He ponders over the
things the phantoms had to show him, turns it all over in his mind.
Tonight is the culmination of the ups and downs of one hell of a
partnership, no matter what happens.
Travis takes a deep breath as the signal is given for him to face his best
friend in the match of the year.
“God bless us, everyone.”
