Post by Mr.Ego on Sept 24, 2016 23:52:29 GMT -5
The Week Before Outlast - Wallace Estates - Miami, Florida
The scene opens inside of stately Wallace Manor, the camera focusing squarely upon 'Vain' Alan Wallace and 'The Scholar' Simon Wellington. The two men are already engaged in conversation.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Alan? We've seen nary a hair on his head since you and Killian somehow talked him into sparring with Jason Ingalls. Quite honestly, with you never bothering to mention him anyway, I just assumed he either took his leave, or… you know… went to meet the great Quest-Giver in the sky."
"Please, Simon… even if that would be where he is destined to go once his time is up, don't you think David Bowie is a little busy? He's still relatively new to the area, still being introduced around town and whatnot. He's got more important things to do than tell our Crusader where 'thine newest saddlebag doeth reside'."
"So all this time, he's just been locked away, playing video games?"
"Simply put? Yes. The great thing is, I don't think the boy sleeps, so no matter what happens, someone is always on guard. And have you seen him use his sword? Damn near disemboweled a stray cat a few weeks back. Not that he hurt the cat or anything… he didn't… but he could have, and it would have been glorious."
"So he's been playing video games for months on end-"
"Specifically, World of Warcraft, yes."
"I don't care, Alan. The name of the electronic waste of time is irrelevant to what I am about to ask you. What you are saying is, that is all that he has done with his life since he lost his quest givers… and now you expect him to be ready to compete for Outlast? In a mere few days? That's what you are telling me?"
"He's felt a sense of purpose with the game, Simon… a sense of belonging. And it's kept his mind sharp. The only issue that I have had the last few days is how, exactly, to get him away from the computer monitor. And it finally dawned on me how to go about doing that."
Before Simon Wellington has the opportunity to ask how Alan was to go about doing so, a blood-curdling scream is heard coming from the basement area. Simon is horrified as he whirls around and begins running towards the steps that lead downstairs. Looking back, he sees Vain standing in the same exact spot he had been, a smile upon his face.
"Look Alan, I conveniently decided against questioning you regarding the 'glorious' statement that you made concerning the abuse of a feline, but after hearing what we just did, how can you possibly stand there and smile? Cynric may be seriously hurt!"
"Oh, I'm sure he is… but it's nothing physical, Simon. Only mental. Seems as if the aforementioned reasoning has come to pass… quicker than I assumed he would get it done. That kid is going places, that's for sure."
"What have you done, Alan?"
Vain begins to laugh as he walks past Simon, and then the two men begin walking down the steps. The area is completely dark, save for the small amount of light that emanates from the computer screen. Normally the turning on of any other lights would send Cyrnic into a tailspin, but when Alan flicks on the light switch on this day, silence is all that greets his action. The smile on Vain's face broadens even more, as he makes his way over and stands beside the gaming chair that Cynric is seated in.
"Is anything wrong, my good man? You gave Simon here quite a start… is there anything that we can do for you?
Cynric slowly lifts his hand, his forefinger pointing towards the screen. Vain follows his finger to the screen, and almost laughs out loud at what he sees.
A look of realization hits Simon, leading him to slightly shake his head as he turns and heads back up the steps. Vain, trying to keep from laughing, speaks.
"Goodness, Dear Crusader… what did you do?"
Cynric lowers his arm, his face hidden behind a scraggly and unkempt beard, fallen.
"Mine curse, it is returned! I have been forsaken once more. First, it was my own dear Quest-Giver; then, the purple prince fell victim to vile sorcery; and now, all that was just and true within thine own world filled with war and many crafts has succumbed to the evil works of that wretched Cyclops."
The smile fades from Vain's face, replaced with a look of uncertainty.
"Yeah, you lost me, Cynric…"
Cynric looks to Vain, expression sorrowful.
"I have become the recipient... of the ban hammer."
Soft laughter can be heard coming from the stairs, as Simon Wellington has been listening in. Vain ignores this intrusion, and with a look of reassurance, he squats down to be eye-level with Cynric the Crusader.
"I believe this to be your next true test, my good man. I believe this to be the next step in your journey to once again find your Quest-Giver."
Cynric waves his words away, collapsing into the chair.
"There is no Quest-Giver for me, for I am a man cursed!" he shakes his fists at the heavens, or at the very least, the ceiling.
"Nonsense. I have it on good authority that your next true Quest-Giver finds himself in the great state of Nevada; within the city of skin and sin known as Las Vegas. And from what I have heard, you are not to undertake this quest alone."
Cynric straightens in his chair, eyes brightening.
"Am I not? My bard? My brave and magnificent mount?"
"Chauncy the Bard, and Henrietta? No, my dear Cynric… for this quest, you will find yourself aligned with Ichy and Daft, Orson the Confused, and Wallace the Great. Two capable men, and one extraordinary individual. But you mustn't be late, for your Quest-Giver awaits."
Cynric frowns.
"I do not believe I know these people you speak of, oh charming yet nefarious prince. But if you say I have a Quest-Giver awaiting my arrival, I shall ready myself. Now, where might I locate my bard and my horse?"
Vain grins.
"I know just who may lead you to them."
Days Before Outlast - Drowning in the Mainstream - Chicago, Illinois
The bell on the door comes to life, signifying yet another visitor to the establishment that was once known as 'A Cupful of Christmas'. The few patrons seated within the establishment all look towards the door, eyes coming to rest upon one of the best looking gentlemen they've ever laid eyes on. Let's be honest, for a few of the people here, you know it moved as soon as they saw him. And Vain realizes that too, which is why his smile broadens as he walks towards the counter. He tosses a hundred dollar bill onto the counter, as he looks the manager on duty straight in the eye.
"Excuse me, my good man, but 'The Money Maker' is looking for two gentlemen whom I know frequent this monstrosity of a coffee shop. Please, enlighten 'Yours Truly' as to the whereabouts of two of my partners for the upcoming Outlast event, Ichabod and Holden Orson."
Dustan looks at him for a moment, and then diverts his gaze to just above Vain's right shoulder, onto the table that he just walked past.
Dustan: "Uhh…dude…"
"We're right behind you", Ichabod is heard saying, as Vain turns and sees him. "Fuckin' choad."
Vain lets out a soft laugh, before turning back towards Dustan. With fire in his eyes, he snatches the hundred dollar bill back off the counter, and puts it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
"You don't deserve Vain's hard-earned money, you ignoramus. Now, give me whatever they are having, and make it snappy, monkey. Vain doesn't have all day to wait."
Vain then turns and begins walking towards Ichabod and Orson, grabbing a chair from an empty table and setting it at the end of the booth. He takes a seat, crossing his right leg over his left, as he smiles at the two of them.
"Gentlemen, a word, if I may?"
Holden - Rolls Eyes
"I'm sorry… but did you just say the words 'rolls eyes'?"
Holden - Scoff
"Did… did you just scoff at me? Vain did not come all this way to be insulted, Mr. Graber, that much I can assure you."
Holden - Mr. Orson.
"I… wait, what?"
Holden - My bad. Snicker.
"Jesus Christ" Ichabod says, interrupting the 'Stooges' routine that has begun between Alan and Holden. "You two planning on being long? Or should I leave you two alone for a bit?"
Before either man can answer, Dustan arrives at the table and sets a few drinks on the table. Vain looks at them in confusion, before looking back up at the manager extraordinaire.
"And what, pray tell, are you putting in front of 'The Vain One', Diego?"
Dustan - Well that cup of coffee to your left? That's a cup of coffee. Beside of it is a flask full of liquor. To your right is a tall espresso.
Vain looks at him with his mouth agape, not saying a word.
Dustan - You said to give you what they were having. Ichabod likes his coffee Irish style; and Holden loves his espressos.
"This is a coffee shop, correct?"
The three men all nod in agreement.
"Then why can't I just get a regular cup of coffee? No liquor… no espresso… nothing with the word grande or venti in the title. Just a regular, black, strong cup of coffee?"
Holden - Regular coffee is so mainstream.
"What did you say?"
Holden - Scoff
"Look Alan…" ichabod interjects, causing Vain to look back over at him. "I know damn well you didn't come up here for the coffee. Why don't you just tell us why you're here, and then you can be on your merry fucking way?"
The smile on Vain's face begins to subside, albeit only slightly.
"Dearest Ichabod… if I didn't know any better, I'd swear that you don't want to bask in the glory of Vain's greatness. Truly is a pity."
Ichabod takes a drag from his Newport, and then blows the smoke directly in Vain's face. Now the smile is gone. Vain fans the smoke away as he rolls his eyes.
"Pretty much what I expected, if I'm being perfectly honest. Attempt to have a meeting of the minds before our match, and end up having to deal with idiotic horseshit from one of our 'veterans'. Typical Ichabod, quite honestly."
Holden - Then maybe you should be on your leave, Wallace.
Vain rises from his seat, buttoning his suit jacket as he does so. He takes the hundred dollar bill from earlier back out of his pocket, and proceeds to fling it at Ichabod.
"Maybe you're right, Graber. Just do me one favor… see to it that you help Cynric find his damn bard and mount. We need him for Outlast, as much as I may be hesitant to admit it."
With that, Vain turns and heads towards the door. The bell sounds again as he opens it, but he stops in his tracks. Without turning around, he speaks.
"Oh, and Ichabod… do be sure to thank Waldo for me. That 'mod' position of his truly came in handy with regards to our Crusader."
And just like that, Vain has disappeared out the door, leaving Holden and Ichabod looking at each other in confusion.
Night Before Outlast - MGM Grande's Skylofts - Las Vegas, Nevada
Vain has opened the door to the luxurious suite that he will call home for the next couple of days, and ushered in the UGWC camera man that he has called upon. He motions for the man to come in, closing the door behind him.
"Please, do set up as quickly as possible, for I am auditioning new beauties for inclusion into the harem, so my time is of the utmost importance."
The cameraman nods, as he begins to setup. Vain goes to the fridge and grabs a fresh bottle of VOSS, cracking the lid and taking a large drink. Satisfied, he replaces the cap and places the bottle back inside the fridge. Walking back over to the 'living room' area of this lavish hotel room, he takes a seat in front of the camera, smiling as the cameraman nods that he is ready.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the UGWC Universe, and welcome to the temporary humble abode of 'The Epitome of Sexy', 'Vain' Alan Wallace. Now I know that all of you have been waiting with baited breath for 'Yours Truly' to envelop you with my thoughts on the upcoming pay-per-view event… maybe regale you with tales of wonderment which you have never seen. I'm sure you've been itching to hear 'The Vain One's' dismissive thoughts on those that pose a semblance of a threat, on Vain's road to imminent glory… Vain's 'Road to Redemption', if you will. The pun, most definitely intended…"
"But alas, I cannot be that man for you tonight. I cannot be 'Mr. Ego' here in Las Vegas. I cannot be everyone's favorite 'Clit Whisperer'."
"Instead… you just get me. Alan Wallace."
"You're welcome."
Vain leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands together, as he looks down at the floor.
"I'm sure that a fair share of you will be disappointed by this revelation. I know that I am the one that you all look to, in order to hear tall tales in which the hero - Me - comes out victorious. I'm sure you all clamor at the way that 'The Vain One' can be completely dismissive of any and all opponents, and still go out and do what he does best… and that is entertain the masses, and prove to the entire world that I am the best in the world at what I do in that ring… which isn't hyperbole or conjecture, it's just a damn fact, Jack. Alas… that is not the man that I can be this evening…"
"Because this is not a laughing matter, nor is it a time to joke around."
"Which is why you're getting the 'me' that nobody really wants, as opposed to the 'me' that everyone loves."
"I'll apologize in advance, though we all know I won't mean it."
Vain leans back in his chair, crossing his right leg over his left, as he diverts his eyes back towards the camera.
"I've sat back and allowed those worthy to try their hand at besting the current UGWC World Champion Travis Roberts… and I've watched each and every person fail. All the while, the only thought in the back of my mind has been 'eventually you will get what is rightfully yours'. I've towed the company line… I've challenged for - and won - the Cooperative Titles once again, even though I had no interest in holding them. I've appeared for the various media sessions that are usually given to the mid-tier champions. I've been the quintessential employee during the last six months."
"But enough is fucking enough."
"I want what I am rightfully owed; I want what Roberts himself was given after I beat him at last years' Horizons; I want what I should have been granted long ago…"
"A rematch - against 'The Blessed One' Travis Roberts, for my UGWC World Championship."
"Instead… I find myself on the eve of an event that grants practically anyone the possibility of getting a shot at the World Title. My World Title."
"As if any of them fucking deserve it."
"I get it… I can be an arrogant bastard when I want to be. What can I say… it's part of my charm. But to think that any of these bastards deserve a shot at the World Title that I carried with such dignity for the better part of 2015 is laughable at best, and completely fucking insulting to boot."
"I'd say that I was sorry for being so brash and insulting, but let's face it, I wouldn't mean a single word of it."
"We have four wrestlers coming from another company to wrestle in the event, and in the event that they win, whomsoever of the four of them that advance… get a shot at our World Title? My World Title? You've got to be shitting me."
"Don't get me wrong… I'm sure the four of them are 'four of the best' that the Outsider Wrestling Federation could spare, in this supposed 'war' they have going with UGWC. I use the term 'war' as lightly as possible, since any actual war between our company and theirs would have led to 'Vain' Alan Wallace being at least somewhat cognizant of their fucking existence. Alas, I had to look at the damn schedule just to know who in the hell was coming over to 'fight for their company's honor'. And even in doing so, I still don't remember them."
"If they were four of the best that company had to offer, I question just how it has stayed open all of these years."
"Some of my peers may tow the politically correct line, and gush over what the four of them are capable of. Hell, I'm sure Chaos has led the line of people that are waiting at the doors, just waiting to tell them how great they are as they suck their dicks. But that's not me… no matter how hot the one with the biggest dick may be - and yes, that's directed at you, Lucy Wylde."
"The four of you come to our company… scratch that, my company… and prattle on about how much better you are than the talent we have here. And it leaves me wondering how you came about that knowledge. I know it wasn't due to the extreme amount of time you spent studying up on the entertainment professionals employed here within the UGWC, because why would you study opponents that you feel superior to. I know it isn't due to the vast amount of success that you've had in the past against members of the UGWC roster, because let's face it… any company where someone like Chaos can become a Tag and 'hardcore' champion really doesn't say to be 'best company in the world'. Maybe 'mediocre company in a wrestling world on strike', but even that is stretching it."
"And yet here you are, thumbing your nose at the rest of us, while you confidently enter Outlast with your heads up your asses. Quite frankly… it pisses me off."
"Not because you are disrespecting my coworkers. Hell, I do that on a daily basis. Much better, too, I might add. No, it pisses me off simply because I don't fucking like you."
"And I will personally see to it that none of you even come close to winning the title that ultimately will be around my waist once again."
"Yes, I say that because I expect your team to advance to the Main Event match. Not because you are technically superior to any and all things related to UGWC. Simply because I fully expect you to come out on top of Team Pierce. Because any team that chooses Chaos as a member should seriously rethink their life choices."
"I'm not sure why I I expected anything else, honestly. Travis Pierce is a hack, whose best days were when he was riding the coattails of Jet Somers. Days he has tried for months to force the rest of us to forget. Why choose to neglect the most successful part of your career, Pierce? You obviously don't have the talent to get by on your own expertise; if you did, you would have never needed Jet Somers to begin with. It's sad, really…watching the demise of the head of a supposed media conglomerate… fall into mere obscurity right before our very eyes."
"At least you still have Cartwright. Oh wait… no, you fired him, didn't you? Must suck to know that you will continue to fade from the conscience of UGWC fans worldwide, until you're nothing more than a complete hack… attending wrestling conventions and charging for autographs, even though you never draw a fucking line to begin with."
"Tell Virgil we said hey, ok?"
"Then there's Jet Somers, a man who has had more identities over the last few years than I have had monikers. Which is just completely insane, if I must say. And I'm sure Ichabod agrees."
"First you're an MMA fighter… then you're a wrestler… you're part of the Piercing Media Network… and then you're a big scary biker with the other Neanderthals… and now you're 'ra-ra-ing' once again for UGWC. Pardon me if I don't expect you to turn to yet another aspect of your chameleon-like personality, as you continue trying to come up with ways to reinvent yourself, in order to force people to care about you."
"Face facts, Jet; nobody cares… nobody ever will… get the fuck over it already."
"But at least you seem to want to attempt to better yourself, Somers, even though your attempts are completely pathetic. Your partner Deimos? A complete afterthought at this point."
"Some would view him as the consummate professional, hell-bent on seeing that the Cross-Hemisphere Title is viewed with the respect that it so sorely deserves. And while I can respect the initiative… I cannot, on good conscience, respect stagnating one's own career, in order to bring meaning to a second-tier title."
"I was the Cross-Hemisphere on multiple occasions, Phrix. The only reason I no longer hold it, is because I was forced to vacate it, if I wanted a shot at the World Title. And we all remember what I did to that degenerate vonKnorre when I had that opportunity. But you? You simply cease to exist… popping up from time to time to remind everyone that we still employ your relic-like ass, and then you're back into the shadows."
"Until someone worthy of carrying that Cross-Hemisphere Title shows up, however."
"Next thing you know, you're all gung-ho again… fighting for the respectability of a second-tier title. Nut up, Phrix… fuck… if you want to be known as one of the greats, put your money where your mouth is, and fight the greats."
"The Orson's…"
"The Roberts'…"
"The Wallace's…"
"Or, continue being content leading a menial life, while you champion a menial wrestling division. Hell, maybe that's easier… so it might be right up your alley."
"But it could be worse, Phrix… you could be Chaos. A man so full of hatred for himself, he has to feign mental illness, so that his club members don't realize what a clusterfuck of suck they have as a Vice President."
"The biggest piece of shit I've ever encountered in the wrestling industry. How you have managed to stay employed over the seventy-six years you've been wrestling is beyond me, but it stops at Outlast."
"If you happen to get by the second-rate bitches that the OWF has sent us, you will find yourself face to face with me. And while that is something you keep telling everyone that you want… you and I both know that's not the case."
"Each and every time we have squared off against one another over the years, I have come out on top. You can mentally ejaculate over the fact that you 'showed me what you were made of at last year's Outlast' all you want, fact is, you've never been better than me… you're not better than me… and you'll never be better than me. Instead of continually trying - and failing, I might add - why don't you cut your losses, and go home where you belong. Be the pseudo-husband and father that you are supposed to be… and leave the success to those of us that are better suited to handle it."
"Or continue failing… lose everything you hold dear… and then watch from afar as I give your wife and kid the life they should have. Not because I want to, but because after so many years of settling… they deserve to finally know what it feels like to be a winner."
Vain rises from his seat, motioning for the cameraman to hold on a minute as he makes his way to the fridge. Grabbing his VOSS water, he makes his way back to his seat… taking a long drink, and then replacing the cap, before he decides to continue.
"Moving on, we come to another match where all involved feel they have what it takes to take my title from Travis Roberts, and yet only a select few would I deem worthy of stating that fact."
"Eden Morgan is one of the greatest wrestlers that we have seen for years. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of… well… me. She strives to be the best tis industry has to offer, and no matter what anyone thinks of her actions, she will do whatever it takes to come out victorious in any match that she is in. And simply put… I respect the shit out of that… but can someone whose biggest storyline of the last six months is getting married to a poor man's Killian King really be considered World Title material? Can someone who spends the week before Outlast shopping for wedding dresses, for a wedding that everyone in their right mind knows is doomed to fail, instead of training for the biggest event of the year… can someone like that be trusted to carry this company into the newest incarnation of what UGWC should be?"
"I shudder at the thought."
"I respect Ms. Morgan… immensely… but when it comes to being the champion, at this point in time, she doesn't quite stack up. Kind of like her former fiancé…"
"Everyone knows the past between Jason Ingalls and myself. And I will be the first to admit that I was wrong in how I handled things. But Jase hasn't done himself any favors when it comes to commanding respect in this industry."
"It's all well and good to have a rival, Jase… I had one in Klaus vonKnorre. Simple fact of the matter remains though, you have to put the inconsequential out of mind and focus on what's important, if you want to succeed long-term in this business. And while I know you have your reasons for wanting to target the likes of Baal, MacLean, and Chaos… you have to learn to drop the dead weight, if you want to make anything of yourself in the UGWC."
"I couldn't be prouder of you for how far you have come, Jason Ingalls. That doesn't mean that I won't drop you like a bad habit if you find yourself across from me in that Main Event."
"Unfortunately, both Ms. Morgan and Mr. Ingalls find their success in this Outlast event tied to the success of two men whom I will never respect in this industry… Mil Vidas Jr. and Jordan King."
"Vidas is your quintessential golden boy, slapping the hands of all the fans, and kissing all the babies. And while that makes for great public relations… it's not going to win you any titles, son. You have all the talent in the world, but you're constantly limiting yourself with this incessant yearning of being so damn good. Newsflash, Vidas…nobody wants to see a Lucha Libre incarnation of the nineteen -eighties Hulk Hogan. That is a bygone era, and rightfully so. If you can ever come to realize that, I look for you to do great things. Problem is… you don't seem to be the type to allow common sense to get in the way of anything you do. Which leads me to Jordan King…"
"How you managed to make a team is beyond me, considering the last time I saw you across from me in the ring, you decided to drop your ball and go home. Taking Erica Langford… Paul Cockatoo… and all three of your fans with you."
"Why come back now, Jordan? Is money tight? If so, you could have asked 'The Vain One' for a loan. Granted, I wouldn't have given it to you, but at least you'd be saving yourself the embarrassment of finding yourself across the ring from me again."
"Because let's make no mistake, 'Cyclone'… if you manage to find yourself in the Main Event of Outlast… I will be one of the wrestlers you have to contend with, if you fancy yourself a chance at becoming the new UGWC World Champion."
"You should have continued enjoying retirement Down Under, JK… because while you have been enjoying the retirement life, I've only gotten better. Which doesn't bode well for you, considering I outclassed your ass in every conceivable way when you were here full-time the last go-round."
"Then again, I guess it won't matter much if your team doesn't make it to the World Title match. And seeing the solidarity of the team that you are going up against… your failures wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."
"Their failures won't either."
"Don’t get it twisted… Killian King has all the tools in the world to become the next UGWC World Heavyweight Champion. If he didn't, I wouldn't find myself aligned with him. His biggest problem - through no fault of his own - is being marred with the teammates that he has."
"Larry… a man who has found himself living in the Hastings' basement for God knows how long. I honestly didn't even know that he was still employed here. Talent, sure… but the ring rust alone has screwed Killian already, and we're still a day away from the actual event."
"Larry is still a better alternative than the two leaders of the newest incarnation of the Rubber Hobo Chickens."
"MacLean - a man who couldn't even hold the Chaos title long enough, in order to finally square off against that drunken idiot of the same name; and Gabriel Baal - a man who has had some unflattering things to say about 'Yours Truly' over the last few months… but has never had the balls to face me in a match. The two of them spout incessantly about their 'Engine of Chaos'… well I read 'The Little Engine That Could', and simply put… this isn't a fucking fairytale, boys."
"There's going to be no storybook ending, you stupid idiots. You can tell yourselves 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can' all you want… it won't matter in the slightest. If you find yourselves lucky enough to make it to the main event, I will personally turn that storybook ending into a complete nightmare, as I leave the both of you telling yourselves 'I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could', as you find yourselves heading back to your locker rooms after an unfulfilling night."
"Which leaves us with the Qualifying Match that I find myself in."
"Now I could go into why our opponents might stand a snowballs chance in hell of defeating us in the match that precedes the Main Event, but why bother? Any team that is headed by Dave Rydell is destined for failure, and it honestly leaves me feeling sorry for the unfortunate bastards that he chose to be on his team."
"Now I know, I know… Dave will be the first one to tell you that it was he that single-handedly vanquished 'Sex and Violence' on two separate occasions; and he will be the first to tell you that it was he that single-handedly squashed the faction known as 'The Syndicate'; but let's be real for a moment. Dave Rydell is the single biggest waste of space this industry has seen since the likes of Mitch Fierce and Majestic Woman. And for true students of the game, that should say it all, in and of itself."
"Since Dave seems to be a bit slower than most, I'll spell it out for him. Yes, you have come out victorious over Killian and myself, but let's be honest… were it not for the two men that were your partners for those two instances, you'd still be living off of the legacy that you made for yourself long before names like 'Vain' Alan Wallace became employed with this company."
"You can lie to yourself all you want, Dave… the fact is, when people talk about the greats of this industry, they speak names like Somers… Morgan… Hastings… and Wallace. At no point in time, in the mind of ]any wrestling fan that actually has any sense, will you ever hear the name of Rydell uttered when speaking of 'The Best Ever'."
"And that's not people disrespecting you, Dave… that's just people being fucking honest."
"The rest of those saddled with Dave Rydell as their captain… I'm truly sorry for what you are about to witness. Truly."
"Which leaves me with the members of my team. Three men that I have come to know extremely well over the years, all for various reasons."
"I think Cynric has quite a future in this industry, if only he can focus on what is truly important. Forget the bards and the mounts, Cynric… focus on wrestling. It will be more fulfilling than anything that your Quest-Giver can provide you."
"As for Ichabod and Orson… everyone knows the history that the three of us share. Even if the current personality of Holden Orson refuses to acknowledge it. The three of us were legends within HSW; and the three of us are names that are synonymous with greatness when it comes to UGWC. But that is where the similarities end."
"Because for all of the vile actions that Ichabod is known for… for all of the matches like 'Run of the Mill' that people think are his playground… he knows, I know, and the world knows, that I am simply better. Ichabod can have his hardcore realm, and he can have his Newports… I'll continue staking my claim as the greatest wrestler this industry has ever seen. Because I'm not just your typical, run of the mill superstar. I'm the Excellence of Sexecution… and I back up all of my talk in the ring."
"Isn't that right, Holden?"
"You try to fight it… you try to make people forget… but everyone remembers, Holden. Everyone remembers you trying to slay the mighty dragon - three times last year. And three times, you failed. What makes you think Outlast this year is your time? Because you've aligned yourself with others?"
"Please… I aligned myself with others in the past, too… and when push came to shove, I beat every single one of them, to reclaim what was rightfully mine."
"Continue puttering up the tracks like the good little lapdog Baal wants you to be, Holden. Just know that, even if you don't believe in yourself… I do."
"But you're better off alone, than with people that are only going to take advantage of you."
"Which finally leads me to Travis Roberts. Roberts… you already know how I feel about you, and what I think of your reign. Until you best me - one on one - you've proven nothing. Regardless of how much you attempt to tell yourself otherwise."
With that, Vain rises from his seat, and walks over to the camera. Bending down, he pulls the camera in close, for one last shot.
"In case you've forgotten, 'Vain' Alan Wallace is about to show all of you exactly why I was the one that ruled the scene for almost an entire year. Seems many of you have forgotten… consider yourselves lucky that I am about to show you what true excellence in that ring is all about."
"You're welcome."
FIN
The scene opens inside of stately Wallace Manor, the camera focusing squarely upon 'Vain' Alan Wallace and 'The Scholar' Simon Wellington. The two men are already engaged in conversation.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Alan? We've seen nary a hair on his head since you and Killian somehow talked him into sparring with Jason Ingalls. Quite honestly, with you never bothering to mention him anyway, I just assumed he either took his leave, or… you know… went to meet the great Quest-Giver in the sky."
"Please, Simon… even if that would be where he is destined to go once his time is up, don't you think David Bowie is a little busy? He's still relatively new to the area, still being introduced around town and whatnot. He's got more important things to do than tell our Crusader where 'thine newest saddlebag doeth reside'."
"So all this time, he's just been locked away, playing video games?"
"Simply put? Yes. The great thing is, I don't think the boy sleeps, so no matter what happens, someone is always on guard. And have you seen him use his sword? Damn near disemboweled a stray cat a few weeks back. Not that he hurt the cat or anything… he didn't… but he could have, and it would have been glorious."
"So he's been playing video games for months on end-"
"Specifically, World of Warcraft, yes."
"I don't care, Alan. The name of the electronic waste of time is irrelevant to what I am about to ask you. What you are saying is, that is all that he has done with his life since he lost his quest givers… and now you expect him to be ready to compete for Outlast? In a mere few days? That's what you are telling me?"
"He's felt a sense of purpose with the game, Simon… a sense of belonging. And it's kept his mind sharp. The only issue that I have had the last few days is how, exactly, to get him away from the computer monitor. And it finally dawned on me how to go about doing that."
Before Simon Wellington has the opportunity to ask how Alan was to go about doing so, a blood-curdling scream is heard coming from the basement area. Simon is horrified as he whirls around and begins running towards the steps that lead downstairs. Looking back, he sees Vain standing in the same exact spot he had been, a smile upon his face.
"Look Alan, I conveniently decided against questioning you regarding the 'glorious' statement that you made concerning the abuse of a feline, but after hearing what we just did, how can you possibly stand there and smile? Cynric may be seriously hurt!"
"Oh, I'm sure he is… but it's nothing physical, Simon. Only mental. Seems as if the aforementioned reasoning has come to pass… quicker than I assumed he would get it done. That kid is going places, that's for sure."
"What have you done, Alan?"
Vain begins to laugh as he walks past Simon, and then the two men begin walking down the steps. The area is completely dark, save for the small amount of light that emanates from the computer screen. Normally the turning on of any other lights would send Cyrnic into a tailspin, but when Alan flicks on the light switch on this day, silence is all that greets his action. The smile on Vain's face broadens even more, as he makes his way over and stands beside the gaming chair that Cynric is seated in.
"Is anything wrong, my good man? You gave Simon here quite a start… is there anything that we can do for you?
Cynric slowly lifts his hand, his forefinger pointing towards the screen. Vain follows his finger to the screen, and almost laughs out loud at what he sees.
Battle.net Error #202
This World of Warcraft account has been closed and is no longer available for use. Please go to [http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/misc/banned.html] for further information.
This World of Warcraft account has been closed and is no longer available for use. Please go to [http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/misc/banned.html] for further information.
A look of realization hits Simon, leading him to slightly shake his head as he turns and heads back up the steps. Vain, trying to keep from laughing, speaks.
"Goodness, Dear Crusader… what did you do?"
Cynric lowers his arm, his face hidden behind a scraggly and unkempt beard, fallen.
"Mine curse, it is returned! I have been forsaken once more. First, it was my own dear Quest-Giver; then, the purple prince fell victim to vile sorcery; and now, all that was just and true within thine own world filled with war and many crafts has succumbed to the evil works of that wretched Cyclops."
The smile fades from Vain's face, replaced with a look of uncertainty.
"Yeah, you lost me, Cynric…"
Cynric looks to Vain, expression sorrowful.
"I have become the recipient... of the ban hammer."
Soft laughter can be heard coming from the stairs, as Simon Wellington has been listening in. Vain ignores this intrusion, and with a look of reassurance, he squats down to be eye-level with Cynric the Crusader.
"I believe this to be your next true test, my good man. I believe this to be the next step in your journey to once again find your Quest-Giver."
Cynric waves his words away, collapsing into the chair.
"There is no Quest-Giver for me, for I am a man cursed!" he shakes his fists at the heavens, or at the very least, the ceiling.
"Nonsense. I have it on good authority that your next true Quest-Giver finds himself in the great state of Nevada; within the city of skin and sin known as Las Vegas. And from what I have heard, you are not to undertake this quest alone."
Cynric straightens in his chair, eyes brightening.
"Am I not? My bard? My brave and magnificent mount?"
"Chauncy the Bard, and Henrietta? No, my dear Cynric… for this quest, you will find yourself aligned with Ichy and Daft, Orson the Confused, and Wallace the Great. Two capable men, and one extraordinary individual. But you mustn't be late, for your Quest-Giver awaits."
Cynric frowns.
"I do not believe I know these people you speak of, oh charming yet nefarious prince. But if you say I have a Quest-Giver awaiting my arrival, I shall ready myself. Now, where might I locate my bard and my horse?"
Vain grins.
"I know just who may lead you to them."
Days Before Outlast - Drowning in the Mainstream - Chicago, Illinois
The bell on the door comes to life, signifying yet another visitor to the establishment that was once known as 'A Cupful of Christmas'. The few patrons seated within the establishment all look towards the door, eyes coming to rest upon one of the best looking gentlemen they've ever laid eyes on. Let's be honest, for a few of the people here, you know it moved as soon as they saw him. And Vain realizes that too, which is why his smile broadens as he walks towards the counter. He tosses a hundred dollar bill onto the counter, as he looks the manager on duty straight in the eye.
"Excuse me, my good man, but 'The Money Maker' is looking for two gentlemen whom I know frequent this monstrosity of a coffee shop. Please, enlighten 'Yours Truly' as to the whereabouts of two of my partners for the upcoming Outlast event, Ichabod and Holden Orson."
Dustan looks at him for a moment, and then diverts his gaze to just above Vain's right shoulder, onto the table that he just walked past.
Dustan: "Uhh…dude…"
"We're right behind you", Ichabod is heard saying, as Vain turns and sees him. "Fuckin' choad."
Vain lets out a soft laugh, before turning back towards Dustan. With fire in his eyes, he snatches the hundred dollar bill back off the counter, and puts it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
"You don't deserve Vain's hard-earned money, you ignoramus. Now, give me whatever they are having, and make it snappy, monkey. Vain doesn't have all day to wait."
Vain then turns and begins walking towards Ichabod and Orson, grabbing a chair from an empty table and setting it at the end of the booth. He takes a seat, crossing his right leg over his left, as he smiles at the two of them.
"Gentlemen, a word, if I may?"
Holden - Rolls Eyes
"I'm sorry… but did you just say the words 'rolls eyes'?"
Holden - Scoff
"Did… did you just scoff at me? Vain did not come all this way to be insulted, Mr. Graber, that much I can assure you."
Holden - Mr. Orson.
"I… wait, what?"
Holden - My bad. Snicker.
"Jesus Christ" Ichabod says, interrupting the 'Stooges' routine that has begun between Alan and Holden. "You two planning on being long? Or should I leave you two alone for a bit?"
Before either man can answer, Dustan arrives at the table and sets a few drinks on the table. Vain looks at them in confusion, before looking back up at the manager extraordinaire.
"And what, pray tell, are you putting in front of 'The Vain One', Diego?"
Dustan - Well that cup of coffee to your left? That's a cup of coffee. Beside of it is a flask full of liquor. To your right is a tall espresso.
Vain looks at him with his mouth agape, not saying a word.
Dustan - You said to give you what they were having. Ichabod likes his coffee Irish style; and Holden loves his espressos.
"This is a coffee shop, correct?"
The three men all nod in agreement.
"Then why can't I just get a regular cup of coffee? No liquor… no espresso… nothing with the word grande or venti in the title. Just a regular, black, strong cup of coffee?"
Holden - Regular coffee is so mainstream.
"What did you say?"
Holden - Scoff
"Look Alan…" ichabod interjects, causing Vain to look back over at him. "I know damn well you didn't come up here for the coffee. Why don't you just tell us why you're here, and then you can be on your merry fucking way?"
The smile on Vain's face begins to subside, albeit only slightly.
"Dearest Ichabod… if I didn't know any better, I'd swear that you don't want to bask in the glory of Vain's greatness. Truly is a pity."
Ichabod takes a drag from his Newport, and then blows the smoke directly in Vain's face. Now the smile is gone. Vain fans the smoke away as he rolls his eyes.
"Pretty much what I expected, if I'm being perfectly honest. Attempt to have a meeting of the minds before our match, and end up having to deal with idiotic horseshit from one of our 'veterans'. Typical Ichabod, quite honestly."
Holden - Then maybe you should be on your leave, Wallace.
Vain rises from his seat, buttoning his suit jacket as he does so. He takes the hundred dollar bill from earlier back out of his pocket, and proceeds to fling it at Ichabod.
"Maybe you're right, Graber. Just do me one favor… see to it that you help Cynric find his damn bard and mount. We need him for Outlast, as much as I may be hesitant to admit it."
With that, Vain turns and heads towards the door. The bell sounds again as he opens it, but he stops in his tracks. Without turning around, he speaks.
"Oh, and Ichabod… do be sure to thank Waldo for me. That 'mod' position of his truly came in handy with regards to our Crusader."
And just like that, Vain has disappeared out the door, leaving Holden and Ichabod looking at each other in confusion.
Night Before Outlast - MGM Grande's Skylofts - Las Vegas, Nevada
Vain has opened the door to the luxurious suite that he will call home for the next couple of days, and ushered in the UGWC camera man that he has called upon. He motions for the man to come in, closing the door behind him.
"Please, do set up as quickly as possible, for I am auditioning new beauties for inclusion into the harem, so my time is of the utmost importance."
The cameraman nods, as he begins to setup. Vain goes to the fridge and grabs a fresh bottle of VOSS, cracking the lid and taking a large drink. Satisfied, he replaces the cap and places the bottle back inside the fridge. Walking back over to the 'living room' area of this lavish hotel room, he takes a seat in front of the camera, smiling as the cameraman nods that he is ready.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the UGWC Universe, and welcome to the temporary humble abode of 'The Epitome of Sexy', 'Vain' Alan Wallace. Now I know that all of you have been waiting with baited breath for 'Yours Truly' to envelop you with my thoughts on the upcoming pay-per-view event… maybe regale you with tales of wonderment which you have never seen. I'm sure you've been itching to hear 'The Vain One's' dismissive thoughts on those that pose a semblance of a threat, on Vain's road to imminent glory… Vain's 'Road to Redemption', if you will. The pun, most definitely intended…"
"But alas, I cannot be that man for you tonight. I cannot be 'Mr. Ego' here in Las Vegas. I cannot be everyone's favorite 'Clit Whisperer'."
"Instead… you just get me. Alan Wallace."
"You're welcome."
Vain leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands together, as he looks down at the floor.
"I'm sure that a fair share of you will be disappointed by this revelation. I know that I am the one that you all look to, in order to hear tall tales in which the hero - Me - comes out victorious. I'm sure you all clamor at the way that 'The Vain One' can be completely dismissive of any and all opponents, and still go out and do what he does best… and that is entertain the masses, and prove to the entire world that I am the best in the world at what I do in that ring… which isn't hyperbole or conjecture, it's just a damn fact, Jack. Alas… that is not the man that I can be this evening…"
"Because this is not a laughing matter, nor is it a time to joke around."
"Which is why you're getting the 'me' that nobody really wants, as opposed to the 'me' that everyone loves."
"I'll apologize in advance, though we all know I won't mean it."
Vain leans back in his chair, crossing his right leg over his left, as he diverts his eyes back towards the camera.
"I've sat back and allowed those worthy to try their hand at besting the current UGWC World Champion Travis Roberts… and I've watched each and every person fail. All the while, the only thought in the back of my mind has been 'eventually you will get what is rightfully yours'. I've towed the company line… I've challenged for - and won - the Cooperative Titles once again, even though I had no interest in holding them. I've appeared for the various media sessions that are usually given to the mid-tier champions. I've been the quintessential employee during the last six months."
"But enough is fucking enough."
"I want what I am rightfully owed; I want what Roberts himself was given after I beat him at last years' Horizons; I want what I should have been granted long ago…"
"A rematch - against 'The Blessed One' Travis Roberts, for my UGWC World Championship."
"Instead… I find myself on the eve of an event that grants practically anyone the possibility of getting a shot at the World Title. My World Title."
"As if any of them fucking deserve it."
"I get it… I can be an arrogant bastard when I want to be. What can I say… it's part of my charm. But to think that any of these bastards deserve a shot at the World Title that I carried with such dignity for the better part of 2015 is laughable at best, and completely fucking insulting to boot."
"I'd say that I was sorry for being so brash and insulting, but let's face it, I wouldn't mean a single word of it."
"We have four wrestlers coming from another company to wrestle in the event, and in the event that they win, whomsoever of the four of them that advance… get a shot at our World Title? My World Title? You've got to be shitting me."
"Don't get me wrong… I'm sure the four of them are 'four of the best' that the Outsider Wrestling Federation could spare, in this supposed 'war' they have going with UGWC. I use the term 'war' as lightly as possible, since any actual war between our company and theirs would have led to 'Vain' Alan Wallace being at least somewhat cognizant of their fucking existence. Alas, I had to look at the damn schedule just to know who in the hell was coming over to 'fight for their company's honor'. And even in doing so, I still don't remember them."
"If they were four of the best that company had to offer, I question just how it has stayed open all of these years."
"Some of my peers may tow the politically correct line, and gush over what the four of them are capable of. Hell, I'm sure Chaos has led the line of people that are waiting at the doors, just waiting to tell them how great they are as they suck their dicks. But that's not me… no matter how hot the one with the biggest dick may be - and yes, that's directed at you, Lucy Wylde."
"The four of you come to our company… scratch that, my company… and prattle on about how much better you are than the talent we have here. And it leaves me wondering how you came about that knowledge. I know it wasn't due to the extreme amount of time you spent studying up on the entertainment professionals employed here within the UGWC, because why would you study opponents that you feel superior to. I know it isn't due to the vast amount of success that you've had in the past against members of the UGWC roster, because let's face it… any company where someone like Chaos can become a Tag and 'hardcore' champion really doesn't say to be 'best company in the world'. Maybe 'mediocre company in a wrestling world on strike', but even that is stretching it."
"And yet here you are, thumbing your nose at the rest of us, while you confidently enter Outlast with your heads up your asses. Quite frankly… it pisses me off."
"Not because you are disrespecting my coworkers. Hell, I do that on a daily basis. Much better, too, I might add. No, it pisses me off simply because I don't fucking like you."
"And I will personally see to it that none of you even come close to winning the title that ultimately will be around my waist once again."
"Yes, I say that because I expect your team to advance to the Main Event match. Not because you are technically superior to any and all things related to UGWC. Simply because I fully expect you to come out on top of Team Pierce. Because any team that chooses Chaos as a member should seriously rethink their life choices."
"I'm not sure why I I expected anything else, honestly. Travis Pierce is a hack, whose best days were when he was riding the coattails of Jet Somers. Days he has tried for months to force the rest of us to forget. Why choose to neglect the most successful part of your career, Pierce? You obviously don't have the talent to get by on your own expertise; if you did, you would have never needed Jet Somers to begin with. It's sad, really…watching the demise of the head of a supposed media conglomerate… fall into mere obscurity right before our very eyes."
"At least you still have Cartwright. Oh wait… no, you fired him, didn't you? Must suck to know that you will continue to fade from the conscience of UGWC fans worldwide, until you're nothing more than a complete hack… attending wrestling conventions and charging for autographs, even though you never draw a fucking line to begin with."
"Tell Virgil we said hey, ok?"
"Then there's Jet Somers, a man who has had more identities over the last few years than I have had monikers. Which is just completely insane, if I must say. And I'm sure Ichabod agrees."
"First you're an MMA fighter… then you're a wrestler… you're part of the Piercing Media Network… and then you're a big scary biker with the other Neanderthals… and now you're 'ra-ra-ing' once again for UGWC. Pardon me if I don't expect you to turn to yet another aspect of your chameleon-like personality, as you continue trying to come up with ways to reinvent yourself, in order to force people to care about you."
"Face facts, Jet; nobody cares… nobody ever will… get the fuck over it already."
"But at least you seem to want to attempt to better yourself, Somers, even though your attempts are completely pathetic. Your partner Deimos? A complete afterthought at this point."
"Some would view him as the consummate professional, hell-bent on seeing that the Cross-Hemisphere Title is viewed with the respect that it so sorely deserves. And while I can respect the initiative… I cannot, on good conscience, respect stagnating one's own career, in order to bring meaning to a second-tier title."
"I was the Cross-Hemisphere on multiple occasions, Phrix. The only reason I no longer hold it, is because I was forced to vacate it, if I wanted a shot at the World Title. And we all remember what I did to that degenerate vonKnorre when I had that opportunity. But you? You simply cease to exist… popping up from time to time to remind everyone that we still employ your relic-like ass, and then you're back into the shadows."
"Until someone worthy of carrying that Cross-Hemisphere Title shows up, however."
"Next thing you know, you're all gung-ho again… fighting for the respectability of a second-tier title. Nut up, Phrix… fuck… if you want to be known as one of the greats, put your money where your mouth is, and fight the greats."
"The Orson's…"
"The Roberts'…"
"The Wallace's…"
"Or, continue being content leading a menial life, while you champion a menial wrestling division. Hell, maybe that's easier… so it might be right up your alley."
"But it could be worse, Phrix… you could be Chaos. A man so full of hatred for himself, he has to feign mental illness, so that his club members don't realize what a clusterfuck of suck they have as a Vice President."
"The biggest piece of shit I've ever encountered in the wrestling industry. How you have managed to stay employed over the seventy-six years you've been wrestling is beyond me, but it stops at Outlast."
"If you happen to get by the second-rate bitches that the OWF has sent us, you will find yourself face to face with me. And while that is something you keep telling everyone that you want… you and I both know that's not the case."
"Each and every time we have squared off against one another over the years, I have come out on top. You can mentally ejaculate over the fact that you 'showed me what you were made of at last year's Outlast' all you want, fact is, you've never been better than me… you're not better than me… and you'll never be better than me. Instead of continually trying - and failing, I might add - why don't you cut your losses, and go home where you belong. Be the pseudo-husband and father that you are supposed to be… and leave the success to those of us that are better suited to handle it."
"Or continue failing… lose everything you hold dear… and then watch from afar as I give your wife and kid the life they should have. Not because I want to, but because after so many years of settling… they deserve to finally know what it feels like to be a winner."
Vain rises from his seat, motioning for the cameraman to hold on a minute as he makes his way to the fridge. Grabbing his VOSS water, he makes his way back to his seat… taking a long drink, and then replacing the cap, before he decides to continue.
"Moving on, we come to another match where all involved feel they have what it takes to take my title from Travis Roberts, and yet only a select few would I deem worthy of stating that fact."
"Eden Morgan is one of the greatest wrestlers that we have seen for years. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of… well… me. She strives to be the best tis industry has to offer, and no matter what anyone thinks of her actions, she will do whatever it takes to come out victorious in any match that she is in. And simply put… I respect the shit out of that… but can someone whose biggest storyline of the last six months is getting married to a poor man's Killian King really be considered World Title material? Can someone who spends the week before Outlast shopping for wedding dresses, for a wedding that everyone in their right mind knows is doomed to fail, instead of training for the biggest event of the year… can someone like that be trusted to carry this company into the newest incarnation of what UGWC should be?"
"I shudder at the thought."
"I respect Ms. Morgan… immensely… but when it comes to being the champion, at this point in time, she doesn't quite stack up. Kind of like her former fiancé…"
"Everyone knows the past between Jason Ingalls and myself. And I will be the first to admit that I was wrong in how I handled things. But Jase hasn't done himself any favors when it comes to commanding respect in this industry."
"It's all well and good to have a rival, Jase… I had one in Klaus vonKnorre. Simple fact of the matter remains though, you have to put the inconsequential out of mind and focus on what's important, if you want to succeed long-term in this business. And while I know you have your reasons for wanting to target the likes of Baal, MacLean, and Chaos… you have to learn to drop the dead weight, if you want to make anything of yourself in the UGWC."
"I couldn't be prouder of you for how far you have come, Jason Ingalls. That doesn't mean that I won't drop you like a bad habit if you find yourself across from me in that Main Event."
"Unfortunately, both Ms. Morgan and Mr. Ingalls find their success in this Outlast event tied to the success of two men whom I will never respect in this industry… Mil Vidas Jr. and Jordan King."
"Vidas is your quintessential golden boy, slapping the hands of all the fans, and kissing all the babies. And while that makes for great public relations… it's not going to win you any titles, son. You have all the talent in the world, but you're constantly limiting yourself with this incessant yearning of being so damn good. Newsflash, Vidas…nobody wants to see a Lucha Libre incarnation of the nineteen -eighties Hulk Hogan. That is a bygone era, and rightfully so. If you can ever come to realize that, I look for you to do great things. Problem is… you don't seem to be the type to allow common sense to get in the way of anything you do. Which leads me to Jordan King…"
"How you managed to make a team is beyond me, considering the last time I saw you across from me in the ring, you decided to drop your ball and go home. Taking Erica Langford… Paul Cockatoo… and all three of your fans with you."
"Why come back now, Jordan? Is money tight? If so, you could have asked 'The Vain One' for a loan. Granted, I wouldn't have given it to you, but at least you'd be saving yourself the embarrassment of finding yourself across the ring from me again."
"Because let's make no mistake, 'Cyclone'… if you manage to find yourself in the Main Event of Outlast… I will be one of the wrestlers you have to contend with, if you fancy yourself a chance at becoming the new UGWC World Champion."
"You should have continued enjoying retirement Down Under, JK… because while you have been enjoying the retirement life, I've only gotten better. Which doesn't bode well for you, considering I outclassed your ass in every conceivable way when you were here full-time the last go-round."
"Then again, I guess it won't matter much if your team doesn't make it to the World Title match. And seeing the solidarity of the team that you are going up against… your failures wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."
"Their failures won't either."
"Don’t get it twisted… Killian King has all the tools in the world to become the next UGWC World Heavyweight Champion. If he didn't, I wouldn't find myself aligned with him. His biggest problem - through no fault of his own - is being marred with the teammates that he has."
"Larry… a man who has found himself living in the Hastings' basement for God knows how long. I honestly didn't even know that he was still employed here. Talent, sure… but the ring rust alone has screwed Killian already, and we're still a day away from the actual event."
"Larry is still a better alternative than the two leaders of the newest incarnation of the Rubber Hobo Chickens."
"MacLean - a man who couldn't even hold the Chaos title long enough, in order to finally square off against that drunken idiot of the same name; and Gabriel Baal - a man who has had some unflattering things to say about 'Yours Truly' over the last few months… but has never had the balls to face me in a match. The two of them spout incessantly about their 'Engine of Chaos'… well I read 'The Little Engine That Could', and simply put… this isn't a fucking fairytale, boys."
"There's going to be no storybook ending, you stupid idiots. You can tell yourselves 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can' all you want… it won't matter in the slightest. If you find yourselves lucky enough to make it to the main event, I will personally turn that storybook ending into a complete nightmare, as I leave the both of you telling yourselves 'I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could', as you find yourselves heading back to your locker rooms after an unfulfilling night."
"Which leaves us with the Qualifying Match that I find myself in."
"Now I could go into why our opponents might stand a snowballs chance in hell of defeating us in the match that precedes the Main Event, but why bother? Any team that is headed by Dave Rydell is destined for failure, and it honestly leaves me feeling sorry for the unfortunate bastards that he chose to be on his team."
"Now I know, I know… Dave will be the first one to tell you that it was he that single-handedly vanquished 'Sex and Violence' on two separate occasions; and he will be the first to tell you that it was he that single-handedly squashed the faction known as 'The Syndicate'; but let's be real for a moment. Dave Rydell is the single biggest waste of space this industry has seen since the likes of Mitch Fierce and Majestic Woman. And for true students of the game, that should say it all, in and of itself."
"Since Dave seems to be a bit slower than most, I'll spell it out for him. Yes, you have come out victorious over Killian and myself, but let's be honest… were it not for the two men that were your partners for those two instances, you'd still be living off of the legacy that you made for yourself long before names like 'Vain' Alan Wallace became employed with this company."
"You can lie to yourself all you want, Dave… the fact is, when people talk about the greats of this industry, they speak names like Somers… Morgan… Hastings… and Wallace. At no point in time, in the mind of ]any wrestling fan that actually has any sense, will you ever hear the name of Rydell uttered when speaking of 'The Best Ever'."
"And that's not people disrespecting you, Dave… that's just people being fucking honest."
"The rest of those saddled with Dave Rydell as their captain… I'm truly sorry for what you are about to witness. Truly."
"Which leaves me with the members of my team. Three men that I have come to know extremely well over the years, all for various reasons."
"I think Cynric has quite a future in this industry, if only he can focus on what is truly important. Forget the bards and the mounts, Cynric… focus on wrestling. It will be more fulfilling than anything that your Quest-Giver can provide you."
"As for Ichabod and Orson… everyone knows the history that the three of us share. Even if the current personality of Holden Orson refuses to acknowledge it. The three of us were legends within HSW; and the three of us are names that are synonymous with greatness when it comes to UGWC. But that is where the similarities end."
"Because for all of the vile actions that Ichabod is known for… for all of the matches like 'Run of the Mill' that people think are his playground… he knows, I know, and the world knows, that I am simply better. Ichabod can have his hardcore realm, and he can have his Newports… I'll continue staking my claim as the greatest wrestler this industry has ever seen. Because I'm not just your typical, run of the mill superstar. I'm the Excellence of Sexecution… and I back up all of my talk in the ring."
"Isn't that right, Holden?"
"You try to fight it… you try to make people forget… but everyone remembers, Holden. Everyone remembers you trying to slay the mighty dragon - three times last year. And three times, you failed. What makes you think Outlast this year is your time? Because you've aligned yourself with others?"
"Please… I aligned myself with others in the past, too… and when push came to shove, I beat every single one of them, to reclaim what was rightfully mine."
"Continue puttering up the tracks like the good little lapdog Baal wants you to be, Holden. Just know that, even if you don't believe in yourself… I do."
"But you're better off alone, than with people that are only going to take advantage of you."
"Which finally leads me to Travis Roberts. Roberts… you already know how I feel about you, and what I think of your reign. Until you best me - one on one - you've proven nothing. Regardless of how much you attempt to tell yourself otherwise."
With that, Vain rises from his seat, and walks over to the camera. Bending down, he pulls the camera in close, for one last shot.
"In case you've forgotten, 'Vain' Alan Wallace is about to show all of you exactly why I was the one that ruled the scene for almost an entire year. Seems many of you have forgotten… consider yourselves lucky that I am about to show you what true excellence in that ring is all about."
"You're welcome."
FIN