Post by Mr.Ego on Feb 6, 2016 23:32:33 GMT -5
Synergy has just gone off the air, and Vain has requested a microphone. As the crowd boos what they just witnessed, Alan Wallace can't help but smile as he walks over to the ropes nearest the ramp, and watches Travis Roberts be helped towards the back. Leaning forward with his arms resting on the top rope, he raises the microphone towards his lips.
"Such a pity. To see a man, once so great, relegated to being helped to the back by Owen Peterson and Dave from catering…it's almost too much to comprehend. I mean, this is the great Travis Roberts, ladies and gentlemen. This is 'The Blessed One'…'The Most Influential Icon in Sports Entertainment This Millennia'…reduced to a half-conscious imbecile, who is in way over his head."
"Vain might as well just begin referring to you as Jordan King."
Peterson and Dave from catering slowly turn, allowing Travis Roberts to look back at Vain once more. Looking like the cat that just ate the canary, the smile on 'The Vain One's' face couldn't be bigger. He begins waving at Roberts, as the three men slowly turn and disappear through the curtain.
"Toodles, Trav. Vain will be seeing you in a week. Hope you're all healed up by then, because 'The Epitome of Excellence' doesn't want you to have any excuses when he embarrasses you in front of the entire world…to Infinity…and beyond."
The crowd boos his shoddy 'Toy Story' reference, to which Vain shrugs them off with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"You're all from Chicago. You wouldn't know funny if it bit you in the ass. Fortunately for all of you, Mr. Spectacular is the funniest person on the roster, by far. So just be glad you don't have someone like Dante Picante out here right now, and show your World Champion a little respect."
Another thunderous chorus of boos, causing Vain to beam with pride.
"Now I'm sure you are all wondering the same thing that Travis Roberts is. Or will be, once that splitting headache of his subsides. And that is…just why did Alan Wallace and Dirge seemingly join forces here tonight, and demolish that overrated has-been in the center of this very ring. How did it come to pass that a man who detests Beauty Personified so much, would simply choose to walk away, without even laying a finger on my beautiful face?
"It's quite simple, really. Just as I do for all of you on a weekly basis, I just gave Robert what he wanted. What he truly wanted. An opportunity to face the man he holds fully responsible for his current predicament, in a No Holds Barred match, for the UGWC World Heavyweight Championship."
"That's right, that is simply all it took. It wasn't to be reunited with his family, it wasn't pertaining to anything related to Elite Enterprises, and it had nothing to do with promising him a bar of soap so that he could wash his stank ass. No, all it took was the promise of a match, with little old me."
"Don't I feel special…"
The crowd boos again, and Vain looks around with a look of pure shock on his face.
"What? You're honestly surprised at my actions? Seriously…have you people just started paying attention? Have you never seen the lengths I will go, to keep the title that is rightfully mine? Travis Roberts is slated to challenge for my World Title at Infinity. And if it means beating him down with some help here tonight…or me attacking him every night between now and next Monday…then that's what I'll do."
"In one week's time, at the end of the night, I will be standing tall in this ring, with my title raised high above my head. And I'll see to that by any means necessary!"
Vain drops the microphone, and then steps through the ropes. Hopping down to the floor, he makes his way up the ramp, and the scene fades to black.
==================================================
Saturday, February 6 - New Orleans, French Quarter, Jackson Square
"What in blazes are we doing down here, Alan? Have you lost your mind? Look at all of the debauchery around us right now. I feel like I could get Hep-C at absolutely any time. It's probably in the air. Dammit!"
The two men are walking down the center of the street, as they take in all that surrounds them. There seems to be bars located every-other building, on both sides of the street. A longer-haired man peddles various articles of clothing outside the front of his shop, all while sporting a simple black t-shirt with a big white middle finger on the front. Two overweight women are yelling about the next ghost tour, that starts in 'promptly fifteen minutes'.
"Jesus H. Christ, no wonder the Devil's Most Wanted have taken up residence down here in this cesspool of humanity. Tattoo stands, alcohol everywhere, and I think I just saw a 'working girl' and her 'john' walk down an alleyway a block back. And I think someone stole my wallet."
Simon Wellington frantically begins searching each pocket of his suit jacket and pants, and comes up empty. Dejected, he stops walking.
"Yup, someone stole my wallet. And I'd wager anything that it was that DMW reject that bumped into me about twenty minutes ago. Son of a bitch…"
Vain - who had continued walking even after Simon had come to a halt - doubles back to the corner and places his hand on Simon's shoulder. With a smile, he speaks.
"Chin up, Bucko. How can you possibly be down in the dumps when you are surrounded by such gloriousness."
"Did you fall and hit your head, Alan?"
"Come on, Simon. Look around you. It's a who's-who of UGWC superstars."
Simon just stares at Vain in frustration, but is suddenly left screaming as the living statue he had been standing beside suddenly - and without warning - grabs his arm and yells. Vain begins laughing his ass off, as Simon tries to keep from hyperventilating.
"See, Zane Scott is here. That working girl you spoke of earlier? Obviously Jezebel Saint, doing her best to make ends meet since I retired her from wrestling. And the hippie at the t-shirt shop is undoubtedly Travis Roberts. Apparently he's already preparing for life after losing to 'Yours Truly' in two days. He really is a go-getter, isn't he?"
"Alan…my wallet was stolen! Don't you understand that?!"
"Relax, Simon. Your wallet was not stolen. I borrowed it in order to pay for the cab fare."
"You borrowed…know what? It doesn't matter. Could you give it back, please?"
"Sorry, but I don't have it. I gave it to the cab driver."
Simon stands there stunned, taking a minute or two before he can respond.
"You…you gave it to the cab driver??? Why didn't you just take some money out of it and give to him?"
"That would have been an invasion of your privacy, Simon. I couldn't have done that…we're friends. Now come on."
The two men walk a few blocks, before making a right and stopping in front of a dimly lit building. The sign on the front simply says 'Palm Reader'.
"I've always wanted to visit one of these people. Something about seeing exactly how perfect life can be really gets me excited."
"What if they tell you something you don't want to hear, Alan? Maybe things don't all turn out like roses."
"Come now, Simon…it's me we're talking about. Of course it'll be good news."
The two men walk inside, and strain to see what is in front of them. A lone candle flickers in the back of the room.
"Do come in, Mr. Wallace. I've been expecting you."
Vain claps his hands together in anticipation as the two men make their way towards the light.
"She must be a fan. She knew me by name. Sounded sexy, too. The man who is simply Viciously Delicious will definitely show this one a good time tonight."
Simon merely sighs as Vain takes a seat. A brunette of maybe 40 steps out and has a seat in front of Vain. She motions for Vain to give her his hands.
"Vain does wondrous things with those hands. You play your cards right, and you will see that first-hand my dear."
She ignores him as she stares down at his palms. Soon, she speaks.
"I see past success for you, but many trials and tribulations. I see love lost and loneliness. I see despair, and eventual death."
Vain jerks his hands away, leaning forward in his seat.
"What kind of game is this? Do you know who I am? You have the audacity to sit there and spout that obvious horseshit to someone like me? Just who in the hell do you think you are?"
"The question isn't who I am, Mr. Wallace. The question is what I know."
With that, she hands Vain a sheet of paper, and then sits back down. Vain stares down at her before reverting his attention back to what she handed him. He reads it aloud.
Vain balls up the piece of paper and throws it into the woman's face. Turning towards Simon, he extends his hands.
"The Vain Hands need some sanitizer, Simon. Pronto!"
Simon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Squeezing a but into Vain's hand, he places the bottle back into his pocket. Vain rubs vigorously.
"This is a total farce. Roberts put you up to this, I know he did. Ignorant harlot. You just screwed up what was going to be the best night of your miserable life. Simon! Pay the whore. We're leaving!"
Vain walks out the door, as Simon throws his arms into the air.
"How am I supposed to pay? I don't have my wallet, Alan!"
Sunday, February 7 - The Superdome, New Orleans
"You can't beat him again, Alan. You know it as well as I do."
Simon stands at ringside, looking up at his pupil in the ring. Vain stares back down at him, a smile on his face.
"That's funny, Simon. I know what you are trying to do, but you and I both know that Travis doesn't have what it takes to dethrone the champ."
"You say that because that's what you do. Overlook…condescend…make light of. Vainisms. You can't admit to yourself that you are facing a carbon copy of yourself. And if you are as good as you say you are, then what you will be facing is better than what you are admitting to yourself."
"Cut the psycho-babble malarkey, Simon. It doesn't suit you."
"Roberts pushed you to the limit, Alan. He damn near beat you at Horizons. And from what I hear…you didn't even get the real Travis Roberts. You got the shell of the man. And yet you still barely beat him. Now? Now he's had another month to prepare - both mentally and physically - to challenge you once more. So I ask you this, Alan…if you barely beat him when he wasn't focused…how in the absolute fuck do you think that you will beat him now that he is completely focused?"
Vain stands in silence for a few moments, attempting to hold back the rage that seems to be building within him. Simon stares up at him, awaiting his response. He doesn't have to wait long. Vain speaks through gritted teeth.
"I have fought the very best that this industry has to offer, Simon. The Jesse Banks', the Taurus Capone's, The Mainstreamer's, and even the Travis Roberts'. I've taken the Raenius' of the world to the brink of defeat, when everyone else thought that he was unbeatable. I've retired mainstays like Jezebel Saint, when everything pointed to me losing a match of that type. I've been at the forefront of every major stable war that has spanned multiple companies. And I've elevated every title that I have held, to heights unseen, and unheard of."
"And yet people still doubt me."
"Everyone that has been put in front of me has fallen, Simon. And that's just the simple truth of the matter. Nobody in this company can claim to have one up on Alan Wallace, because I always even the score. And then I find a way to best them again, because it's what I do."
"People look at Vain and they see a spoiled primadonna that couldn't possibly back up his words in the ring. And then once I do, they try to find excuses to mask the fact that they underestimated me, and it blew up in their faces."
"Just like I always tell them it will."
"When Eden beat me last year, the world rejoiced. Finally, Vain would be forced to shut his mouth, right? But what happened, Simon? What happened when Eden was forced to defend that title in a match that Vain was a part of?"
"Not only did Vain best Eden Morgan in that match at Battleground…but he bested Zane Scott and Killian King, too. A match that nobody thought Vain had a chance of winning, and by the end of the night, they were forced to recognize what Vain had told them all along."
"That I would, once more, become the UGWC Heavyweight Champion of the World."
"Then it was Travis Roberts' turn to test his mettle against 'Vanity at its Finest'. And once again, I was the one standing tall at the end of the night. Once again, it was my name that was announced as being the very best that this industry has to offer."
"Yet the more things change…the more they remain the same."
"I've heard the things you said already, Simon. I've heard the bulk of the UGWC Universe…I've heard the whispers in the back…I've heard how Roberts wasn't at his best. How he was still finding himself. How if he had another opportunity, he would see that one through, and culminate the greatest turnaround in recent memory."
"Now he has his chance. And I don't envy him."
"Because all the talk I've heard, all the bullshit that I've had the misfortune of listening to, all it has done is fueled me to be even better than I was the last time that he and I fought."
"I'm getting a different Roberts this time around? Good, because he sure as hell is getting a different Vain."
"I'm not content with just beating Travis Roberts again. Not by any means. What I want to do is embarrass Travis Roberts. What I want to do is humiliate Travis Roberts. When I'm finished with him - and he, once again, is left staring up at the lights as my music plays - I want him to seriously think if this is what he wants out of life: not being able to finish, and being viewed as a pauper in the world of a prince."
"But this match won’t be about Travis Roberts. Hell, it won’t even be about Vain. No…this match is about Alan Wallace."
"I'm sick and fucking tired of the fans not appreciating me…I'm sick and fucking tired of being disrespected by my supposed peers…and quite frankly, I'm sick and fucking tired of people like Travis Roberts."
"People that attempt to latch onto my coattails, and ride them to some supposed personal greatness. People that attempt to use my success as a springboard to pull themselves out of the gutter that they allowed themselves to be put into."
"Travis Roberts is a man that can't even beat Dave Rydell, so how in the hell is it humanly possible for him to think that he is in my league?!"
"So it's up to me to change that."
"Not Vain…not 'Mr. Ego'…not 'Vanity at its Finest…me. Alan Wallace."
"It will be Alan Wallace that Roberts finds himself standing across from on Monday. It will be Alan Wallace that will show the entire world just how good he is. It will be Alan Wallace that fends off a challenger that isn't as worthy as he thinks he is. And it will be Alan Wallace that stands in the ring at the end of the night…..victorious."
"He likes to refer to himself as 'The Blessed One'…I will see to it that he understands exactly who is blessed when the two of us are in that ring. And once it's all said and done, he can forget all of the previous monikers that I have gone by over the years. Because he will start referring to me as only one name."
"He can begin referring to me as God."
Nearly shaking, Vain grabs his sport jacket and puts it on. Confused, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded up sheet of paper. Opening it, he takes a glance, and immediately grows infuriated. Throwing the piece of paper to the mat, he exits the ring, and he and Simon make their way to the back. The camera focuses in on the paper that lies in the middle of the ring…and sees a copy of the obituary that the palm reader gave to Vain the night before.
And the camera fades to black.
"Such a pity. To see a man, once so great, relegated to being helped to the back by Owen Peterson and Dave from catering…it's almost too much to comprehend. I mean, this is the great Travis Roberts, ladies and gentlemen. This is 'The Blessed One'…'The Most Influential Icon in Sports Entertainment This Millennia'…reduced to a half-conscious imbecile, who is in way over his head."
"Vain might as well just begin referring to you as Jordan King."
Peterson and Dave from catering slowly turn, allowing Travis Roberts to look back at Vain once more. Looking like the cat that just ate the canary, the smile on 'The Vain One's' face couldn't be bigger. He begins waving at Roberts, as the three men slowly turn and disappear through the curtain.
"Toodles, Trav. Vain will be seeing you in a week. Hope you're all healed up by then, because 'The Epitome of Excellence' doesn't want you to have any excuses when he embarrasses you in front of the entire world…to Infinity…and beyond."
The crowd boos his shoddy 'Toy Story' reference, to which Vain shrugs them off with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"You're all from Chicago. You wouldn't know funny if it bit you in the ass. Fortunately for all of you, Mr. Spectacular is the funniest person on the roster, by far. So just be glad you don't have someone like Dante Picante out here right now, and show your World Champion a little respect."
Another thunderous chorus of boos, causing Vain to beam with pride.
"Now I'm sure you are all wondering the same thing that Travis Roberts is. Or will be, once that splitting headache of his subsides. And that is…just why did Alan Wallace and Dirge seemingly join forces here tonight, and demolish that overrated has-been in the center of this very ring. How did it come to pass that a man who detests Beauty Personified so much, would simply choose to walk away, without even laying a finger on my beautiful face?
"It's quite simple, really. Just as I do for all of you on a weekly basis, I just gave Robert what he wanted. What he truly wanted. An opportunity to face the man he holds fully responsible for his current predicament, in a No Holds Barred match, for the UGWC World Heavyweight Championship."
"That's right, that is simply all it took. It wasn't to be reunited with his family, it wasn't pertaining to anything related to Elite Enterprises, and it had nothing to do with promising him a bar of soap so that he could wash his stank ass. No, all it took was the promise of a match, with little old me."
"Don't I feel special…"
The crowd boos again, and Vain looks around with a look of pure shock on his face.
"What? You're honestly surprised at my actions? Seriously…have you people just started paying attention? Have you never seen the lengths I will go, to keep the title that is rightfully mine? Travis Roberts is slated to challenge for my World Title at Infinity. And if it means beating him down with some help here tonight…or me attacking him every night between now and next Monday…then that's what I'll do."
"In one week's time, at the end of the night, I will be standing tall in this ring, with my title raised high above my head. And I'll see to that by any means necessary!"
Vain drops the microphone, and then steps through the ropes. Hopping down to the floor, he makes his way up the ramp, and the scene fades to black.
==================================================
Saturday, February 6 - New Orleans, French Quarter, Jackson Square
"What in blazes are we doing down here, Alan? Have you lost your mind? Look at all of the debauchery around us right now. I feel like I could get Hep-C at absolutely any time. It's probably in the air. Dammit!"
The two men are walking down the center of the street, as they take in all that surrounds them. There seems to be bars located every-other building, on both sides of the street. A longer-haired man peddles various articles of clothing outside the front of his shop, all while sporting a simple black t-shirt with a big white middle finger on the front. Two overweight women are yelling about the next ghost tour, that starts in 'promptly fifteen minutes'.
"Jesus H. Christ, no wonder the Devil's Most Wanted have taken up residence down here in this cesspool of humanity. Tattoo stands, alcohol everywhere, and I think I just saw a 'working girl' and her 'john' walk down an alleyway a block back. And I think someone stole my wallet."
Simon Wellington frantically begins searching each pocket of his suit jacket and pants, and comes up empty. Dejected, he stops walking.
"Yup, someone stole my wallet. And I'd wager anything that it was that DMW reject that bumped into me about twenty minutes ago. Son of a bitch…"
Vain - who had continued walking even after Simon had come to a halt - doubles back to the corner and places his hand on Simon's shoulder. With a smile, he speaks.
"Chin up, Bucko. How can you possibly be down in the dumps when you are surrounded by such gloriousness."
"Did you fall and hit your head, Alan?"
"Come on, Simon. Look around you. It's a who's-who of UGWC superstars."
Simon just stares at Vain in frustration, but is suddenly left screaming as the living statue he had been standing beside suddenly - and without warning - grabs his arm and yells. Vain begins laughing his ass off, as Simon tries to keep from hyperventilating.
"See, Zane Scott is here. That working girl you spoke of earlier? Obviously Jezebel Saint, doing her best to make ends meet since I retired her from wrestling. And the hippie at the t-shirt shop is undoubtedly Travis Roberts. Apparently he's already preparing for life after losing to 'Yours Truly' in two days. He really is a go-getter, isn't he?"
"Alan…my wallet was stolen! Don't you understand that?!"
"Relax, Simon. Your wallet was not stolen. I borrowed it in order to pay for the cab fare."
"You borrowed…know what? It doesn't matter. Could you give it back, please?"
"Sorry, but I don't have it. I gave it to the cab driver."
Simon stands there stunned, taking a minute or two before he can respond.
"You…you gave it to the cab driver??? Why didn't you just take some money out of it and give to him?"
"That would have been an invasion of your privacy, Simon. I couldn't have done that…we're friends. Now come on."
The two men walk a few blocks, before making a right and stopping in front of a dimly lit building. The sign on the front simply says 'Palm Reader'.
"I've always wanted to visit one of these people. Something about seeing exactly how perfect life can be really gets me excited."
"What if they tell you something you don't want to hear, Alan? Maybe things don't all turn out like roses."
"Come now, Simon…it's me we're talking about. Of course it'll be good news."
The two men walk inside, and strain to see what is in front of them. A lone candle flickers in the back of the room.
"Do come in, Mr. Wallace. I've been expecting you."
Vain claps his hands together in anticipation as the two men make their way towards the light.
"She must be a fan. She knew me by name. Sounded sexy, too. The man who is simply Viciously Delicious will definitely show this one a good time tonight."
Simon merely sighs as Vain takes a seat. A brunette of maybe 40 steps out and has a seat in front of Vain. She motions for Vain to give her his hands.
"Vain does wondrous things with those hands. You play your cards right, and you will see that first-hand my dear."
She ignores him as she stares down at his palms. Soon, she speaks.
"I see past success for you, but many trials and tribulations. I see love lost and loneliness. I see despair, and eventual death."
Vain jerks his hands away, leaning forward in his seat.
"What kind of game is this? Do you know who I am? You have the audacity to sit there and spout that obvious horseshit to someone like me? Just who in the hell do you think you are?"
"The question isn't who I am, Mr. Wallace. The question is what I know."
With that, she hands Vain a sheet of paper, and then sits back down. Vain stares down at her before reverting his attention back to what she handed him. He reads it aloud.
Alan Wallace, better known to wrestling fans around the world as Vain, passed away unexpectantly as the result of his sixth facial reconstruction surgery going horribly wrong. He was 73.
Born on January 1, 1983 in Miami, Florida, Mr. Wallace was born into a life of privilege. A multi-sport star in high school, Mr .Wallace soon entered into the world of professional wrestling. Taking the wrestling world by storm, he advanced quickly, and soon became a household name. He won numerous titles and accolades over the years, and would go down as one of the greatest wrestlers of his time.
Vain is survived by his ex-fiancé Celeste Worth, and a Chihuahua named Roscoe.
Vain balls up the piece of paper and throws it into the woman's face. Turning towards Simon, he extends his hands.
"The Vain Hands need some sanitizer, Simon. Pronto!"
Simon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Squeezing a but into Vain's hand, he places the bottle back into his pocket. Vain rubs vigorously.
"This is a total farce. Roberts put you up to this, I know he did. Ignorant harlot. You just screwed up what was going to be the best night of your miserable life. Simon! Pay the whore. We're leaving!"
Vain walks out the door, as Simon throws his arms into the air.
"How am I supposed to pay? I don't have my wallet, Alan!"
Sunday, February 7 - The Superdome, New Orleans
"You can't beat him again, Alan. You know it as well as I do."
Simon stands at ringside, looking up at his pupil in the ring. Vain stares back down at him, a smile on his face.
"That's funny, Simon. I know what you are trying to do, but you and I both know that Travis doesn't have what it takes to dethrone the champ."
"You say that because that's what you do. Overlook…condescend…make light of. Vainisms. You can't admit to yourself that you are facing a carbon copy of yourself. And if you are as good as you say you are, then what you will be facing is better than what you are admitting to yourself."
"Cut the psycho-babble malarkey, Simon. It doesn't suit you."
"Roberts pushed you to the limit, Alan. He damn near beat you at Horizons. And from what I hear…you didn't even get the real Travis Roberts. You got the shell of the man. And yet you still barely beat him. Now? Now he's had another month to prepare - both mentally and physically - to challenge you once more. So I ask you this, Alan…if you barely beat him when he wasn't focused…how in the absolute fuck do you think that you will beat him now that he is completely focused?"
Vain stands in silence for a few moments, attempting to hold back the rage that seems to be building within him. Simon stares up at him, awaiting his response. He doesn't have to wait long. Vain speaks through gritted teeth.
"I have fought the very best that this industry has to offer, Simon. The Jesse Banks', the Taurus Capone's, The Mainstreamer's, and even the Travis Roberts'. I've taken the Raenius' of the world to the brink of defeat, when everyone else thought that he was unbeatable. I've retired mainstays like Jezebel Saint, when everything pointed to me losing a match of that type. I've been at the forefront of every major stable war that has spanned multiple companies. And I've elevated every title that I have held, to heights unseen, and unheard of."
"And yet people still doubt me."
"Everyone that has been put in front of me has fallen, Simon. And that's just the simple truth of the matter. Nobody in this company can claim to have one up on Alan Wallace, because I always even the score. And then I find a way to best them again, because it's what I do."
"People look at Vain and they see a spoiled primadonna that couldn't possibly back up his words in the ring. And then once I do, they try to find excuses to mask the fact that they underestimated me, and it blew up in their faces."
"Just like I always tell them it will."
"When Eden beat me last year, the world rejoiced. Finally, Vain would be forced to shut his mouth, right? But what happened, Simon? What happened when Eden was forced to defend that title in a match that Vain was a part of?"
"Not only did Vain best Eden Morgan in that match at Battleground…but he bested Zane Scott and Killian King, too. A match that nobody thought Vain had a chance of winning, and by the end of the night, they were forced to recognize what Vain had told them all along."
"That I would, once more, become the UGWC Heavyweight Champion of the World."
"Then it was Travis Roberts' turn to test his mettle against 'Vanity at its Finest'. And once again, I was the one standing tall at the end of the night. Once again, it was my name that was announced as being the very best that this industry has to offer."
"Yet the more things change…the more they remain the same."
"I've heard the things you said already, Simon. I've heard the bulk of the UGWC Universe…I've heard the whispers in the back…I've heard how Roberts wasn't at his best. How he was still finding himself. How if he had another opportunity, he would see that one through, and culminate the greatest turnaround in recent memory."
"Now he has his chance. And I don't envy him."
"Because all the talk I've heard, all the bullshit that I've had the misfortune of listening to, all it has done is fueled me to be even better than I was the last time that he and I fought."
"I'm getting a different Roberts this time around? Good, because he sure as hell is getting a different Vain."
"I'm not content with just beating Travis Roberts again. Not by any means. What I want to do is embarrass Travis Roberts. What I want to do is humiliate Travis Roberts. When I'm finished with him - and he, once again, is left staring up at the lights as my music plays - I want him to seriously think if this is what he wants out of life: not being able to finish, and being viewed as a pauper in the world of a prince."
"But this match won’t be about Travis Roberts. Hell, it won’t even be about Vain. No…this match is about Alan Wallace."
"I'm sick and fucking tired of the fans not appreciating me…I'm sick and fucking tired of being disrespected by my supposed peers…and quite frankly, I'm sick and fucking tired of people like Travis Roberts."
"People that attempt to latch onto my coattails, and ride them to some supposed personal greatness. People that attempt to use my success as a springboard to pull themselves out of the gutter that they allowed themselves to be put into."
"Travis Roberts is a man that can't even beat Dave Rydell, so how in the hell is it humanly possible for him to think that he is in my league?!"
"So it's up to me to change that."
"Not Vain…not 'Mr. Ego'…not 'Vanity at its Finest…me. Alan Wallace."
"It will be Alan Wallace that Roberts finds himself standing across from on Monday. It will be Alan Wallace that will show the entire world just how good he is. It will be Alan Wallace that fends off a challenger that isn't as worthy as he thinks he is. And it will be Alan Wallace that stands in the ring at the end of the night…..victorious."
"He likes to refer to himself as 'The Blessed One'…I will see to it that he understands exactly who is blessed when the two of us are in that ring. And once it's all said and done, he can forget all of the previous monikers that I have gone by over the years. Because he will start referring to me as only one name."
"He can begin referring to me as God."
Nearly shaking, Vain grabs his sport jacket and puts it on. Confused, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded up sheet of paper. Opening it, he takes a glance, and immediately grows infuriated. Throwing the piece of paper to the mat, he exits the ring, and he and Simon make their way to the back. The camera focuses in on the paper that lies in the middle of the ring…and sees a copy of the obituary that the palm reader gave to Vain the night before.
And the camera fades to black.