Prestige Wrestling Association Forums

EDIT: Original Subject "01/12 Assault Aftermath"

*Akira Wyld, dressed in his trademark leather jacket and denim jeans, steps out of the elevator of the five story PWA office building and into a beautifully furnished reception area where a young, brunette receptionist sits behind an ebony desk, tapping away at the keyboard in front of her. She glances up at him, then does a double take at the attire the and bandages that Akira wears. Her face betrays a look of disapproving surprise, but only slightly until she resumes her receptionist's smile.*

RECEPTIONIST: "Welcome of the Prestige Wrestling Association Production and Talent Relations Office. May I help you?"

*Wyld, fuming and furious, pauses... briefly taken aback by the receptionist’s cheerful canned response. After a moment he shakes his head and slams his hand down on the desk.*

WYLD: “Lady, I am in no mood for your plastic-faced PR bullcrap. You know exactly who I am... and if you watched last week’s Assault, you should have a pretty damn good idea why I’m here. For the past two weeks I’ve been disrespected and abused on live television and I want to know who is behind it! Ever since we went off the air last week I’ve called, I’ve sent email, I’ve sent text messages... and I just keep getting the run around. I want to know who’s in charge here! I want to know who pays the bills and who books the matches. I’m Akira Wyld dammit! I’m not leaving here until I get some answers!”

*Without batting an eye, the receptionist adjusts her glasses and begins typing away at her keyboard.....*

RECEPTIONIST: "Wyld..... Wyld....... I don't see you listed in the agenda. Did you make an appointment?"

*Wyld’s eyes go wide as he takes in a long deep breath through his nose. After a short pause... he exhales and puts on a toothy smile that never touches his eyes.*

WYLD: “No... I did not make an appointment. Could you make one for me right now?”

RECEPTIONST: "One moment.......... *typing* ........... There appears to be an opening. Let me see if he's available. *she picks up her phone* Sir, you have guest. Are you free?.............. Yes sir. Go right in, Mr. Wyld."

*Wyld stares blankly at the receptionist for a moment. Then up to the large double doors leading to the office. Then back to her. He cocks an eyebrow.*

WYLD: “That’s it? Just like that I walk in?”

RECEPTIONIST: "I'm sorry, Mr. Wyld. Would you like some water or coffee?"

*Wyld narrows his eyes at the receptionist, then turns to face the office door. The double door behind the receptionist opens up revealing an immaculate luxury office. Akira's forced smile disappears immediately as he stalks past the receptionist into this new office. He strides right up to the mahogany desk and faces the large leather chair with it's back turned to him, it's occupant completely hidden from view. The double doors close behind Akira. Akira takes a quick look at his surroundings. The office is sparsely yet tastefully furnished, belying the occupant's wealth without showing off. On the right wall are championship belts from more than one organization. The office is eerily quiet, even as the chair turns to face Akira. In the chair is a handsome and charming man, his black hair tied in back in a perfect tail, his gleaming white smile almost genuinely inviting in it's perfection. The man's black Armani rests perfectly on the man's frame, custom tailored. Nothing about him is out of place. Akira's eyes go wide and the mask of self-righteous anger breaks for a moment as recognition sets in.*

WYLD: “No... NO! DAMION BLACK?! Y.. you’re in charge of PWA?!”

DAMION BLACK: “Akira, good of you to...”

*Wyld clenches his fists, narrows his eyes, and grits his teeth.*

WYLD: “Black... what the hell is going on here?!”

*Wyld gestures frantically around the luxurious office.*

WYLD: “What... WHAT IS THIS? YOU’RE the owner of PWA? You’re in charge of this damn promotion?”

*Wyld tears at his hair and punches a wall.*

WYLD: “You’ve got some explaining to do you silver-spoon fed, cap-toothed, blow-dried phoney! I’ve spent the past month being insulted, beat up, and bloodied... and it’s all been because of YOU?!”

*Damion quietly stands and looks impassively at Akira.*

DAMION: "Straight to the point, then. Alright, Mr. Wyld, have it your way. Prestige Wrestling Association is my promotion, yes. I created it, I organize it, and I fund it. After I retired from both wrestling and Hollywood, I wanted to continue giving young athletes an opportunity to succeed, to thrive and to attain greatness for themselves. Any individual greatness they attain promotes the sport we both love. It really is as simple as that.

"As for your accusations of my being the cause for your recent hardships, well.... you did that on your own, and a fine job, too. I know you weren't booked on the first show. Mr. Wyld, when PWA signed you, you were arguably the highest profile personality on our growing roster. Why waste you on the first show when PWA had no momentum to give you? Instead, I had in mind putting you in a heavyweight title match on the following program, after PWA had started to make waves. But, as recent history has shown, you couldn't help letting your pride get in the way and again it has cost you. No one made you issue those open challenges. You know Brian Fury personally and you're acquainted with Yamasaki Nakamura. Do either of those men seem like the type to take orders from anyone? Mr. Wyld, you opened yourself up to those brutes and, I daresay, paid the price.

"And yet, you managed to not only survive in spite your hubris, but overcome and stand victorious. For that, I applaud you."

*Akira Wyld takes a step back... for a moment unable to collect himself. But soon his eyes narrow and he looks coldly at Damion Black.*

WYLD: “Who the hell do you think you are talking down to me like that? You’re damn right I overcame and stood victorious. I’m Akira Wyld. I’m the best damn wrestler on the planet! And you sound just like every other low-class, cutthroat promoter I’ve ever worked for. Always laying the blame at my feet, when the only thing I’ve done is tell it like it is.”

*Wyld starts pacing back and forth rubbing his palms into his eyes. He stops short suddenly and levels an accusing finger at Black.*

WYLD: “And you know what? I’m not buying this crap. If you think for one moment I believe this humble straight-shooter act, you’re a fool. You know... I had you pegged the moment I first laid eyes on you in Pro Wrestling SHAFT. You look the part and you talk a good game, but you’re nothing but a slimy, self-involved pretender. And if you think I’m going to... going to...”

*Wyld trails off mid-sentence and stares blankly at Black for a moment. He lowers his finger and narrows his gaze at Black.*

WYLD: “Did... you say you were putting me in a Championship match?”

DAMION: "I said I WAS putting you in a Championship match. Since you took your destiny into your own hands instead of letting PWA work for you, I've had to scrap those plans."

*Wyld’s eyes go wide... he advances on Black’s desk with his fists raised... his eyes look crazed.*

WYLD: “You WHAT?! You had to ‘scrap those plans?’ I beat two top heavyweight contenders in the center of the ring! I made your damn show destination television and you’re going to try to screw me over AGAIN?! That’s it! I’ve had it with this place! I’m out of here! You can take your contract and shove it up your-”

DAMION: "Fine. If you don't wish to take part in the tournament for the heavyweight championship, send your resignation to my secretary. We will nullify your contract and you can be on your way."

*Wyld stops ranting and addresses Black with cold eyes.*

WYLD: “...what is this Black? What tournament?."

DAMION: "PWA will host a round-robin tournament over the next several weeks between eight heavyweights. The results of this tournament will determine placement in a delayed-entry battle royal, with the tournament's winner being the last to enter. The last two men remaining in that battle royal will compete in a 2 out of 3 falls match to crown PWA's first Heavyweight Champion. A true test for any athlete, the winner shall be undisputed in ability and in prowess. Imagine the accolades, the fame, the RESPECT... such a man would receive.

"But clearly, you're not interested in such a tournament. Now, I'm a very busy man. Show yourself out."

WYLD: “No no no... don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing Black. As always, I’m one step ahead of you. You WANT me to quit. You know that if I became champion I’ll run this promotion and make your life a living hell. Well get used to it Black. I’m competing in this tournament and I’m going to win, because that’s what champions do! I’m going to run roughshod through this entire roster and once all is said and done, when people hear the letters PWA, they’re not going to think of Prestige Wrestling. They’re not going to think of Damion Black. After this tournament, forevermore PWA will be synonymous with the name Akira Wyld! And I swear Black... if you do anything to stand in my way... I’m coming for you.”

DAMION: *Damion smiles.* "There's that spark. Be careful, the old Akira is coming out. The tournament begins on the next Assault. Good day, Mr. Wyld."

*Damion sits back down at his desk and begins going over reports, completely ignoring Akira. Akira looks as if he is about to speak, but instead glowers down at Black for several moments before turning to leave. As he opens the door of Damion's office...*

DAMION: "Oh, Mr. Wyld. Mrs. Spencer is a valued and hardworking employee of PWA. You really should apologize to her. She likes roses."

*Wyld’s eyes flash angrily and he half turns to face Black in the doorway. But then he takes a deep breath, grumbles a curse under his breath, and exits the office, sharply closing the door behind him.*

**The scene opens in a spartan gymnasium. Tiger Gold, dressed in his trademark tiger mask, a sleeveless grey hoodie and sweat pants stands with his back to the camera, striking a heavy bag with measured, powerful blows. After a moment he steadies the bag with a tree trunk-like bronze arm. He takes a deep breath and turns around to face the camera.***

GOLD: “Robert MacElroy... we met in the arena of combat as equals. Both seasoned travelers. Both world warriors. No quarter was asked and none was given. In front of the screaming multitudes, surrounded by the spirits of our ancestors, we battled, and the heavens shook with our thunder. In the end... it was your name that was etched into the stone of history. For one glorious moment you tasted your well earned immortality, and for that, I congratulate you.”

***Tiger Gold holds his powerful taped hands up in front of him and balls them into tight fists.***

GOLD: “For nearly twenty minutes, I raged at you with every ounce of my fighting spirit... and you answered back like a true champion. You were victorious... and I hope you savored the taste for it is rare fruit. The next time we meet, I shall avenge my loss and the reverberations of our war will surely tear the very arena asunder. It will be glorious, and I eagerly await the next chapter in our conflict.

***Tiger Gold begins pacing back and forth and points one finger in the air.***

GOLD: “And we will meet again very soon... for we are both entered into the PWA Rise of Kings Championship Tournament. Eight mighty warriors will compete in an epic, round-robin tournament... vying for the opportunity to be crowned the first ever Prestige Wrestling Heavyweight Champion. Legendary competitors will clash and the strong will rise. Bring your best MacElroy... for destiny has chosen the time and place of our next encounter. May the best man win.”

***Tiger Gold stands silently for a moment, collecting his thoughts.***

GOLD: “But that fight is not in my immediate future. My quest for gold and glory begins next week on PWA Assault, where I face Kevin Starr in the opening round of the tournament. In my travels I have not before encountered this... “Cajun Superman”... but I understand he was inspired to greatness by Big Adam Smash. That fact alone speaks highly of Mr. Starr’s ambition if nothing else.”

***Tiger Gold stares into the camera and growls.***

GOLD: “Kevin Starr, gird your loins. You are in PWA, the home of the immortals. I am Tiger Gold, and when you step in the ring with me you will be tested as you never have before. For the first time in a long while, I have tasted defeat, and I found it to be bitter and unpleasant. I will not be bested a second time. You are an honorable competitor and you deserve fair warning... next week at PWA Assault, bring every ounce of your power to the ring... or I shall rend you in half and scatter your ambitions to the far winds. The power and fury of my ancestors will rain down upon you and bathe you in the righteous fire of combat. Prepare yourself “Natural”... your destiny awaits!”

***Tiger Gold flexes in a ‘roaring lion’ pose and growls at the camera as the screen fades to black.***

*The scene opens in a haze-filled room, draped with exotic fabrics and hand-woven rugs. The floor is adorned with pillows and velvety blankets. Several young men and women adorned in loose-fitting silk draw string pants and shirts lounge about the room drinking herbal teas and weaving melodically to the soft sitar music that hangs in the air.*

*In the center of the room is Cassidy Cray, lounging on a haphazard throne of throw-blankets and handmade pillows. He is wearing a braided leather vest and shiny sequined bell bottom lounge pants. A pair of mirrored aviator glasses adorn his tanned, 5-o’clock shadowed face. He draws deeply from an ornate hookah seated at his side and blows a fragrant cloud of vapor into the air.*

*Beside him, with his arms folded menacingly across is chest, is Bokrug Manaj. Standing in sharp contrast to the spiritual adornments in the room, Manaj scowls, clad in black studded leather chaps and spiked wristbands. His painted face is a foreboding death mask of black and white beneath a waterfall of oil-black hair.*

*Cassidy Cray takes another relaxed drag from his pipe. As the vapors encircle his magnificent mane of two-toned blonde hair, he begins to speak in a slow, mahogany southern drawl.*

CASSIDY CRAY: “Welcome my brothers and sisters... to the Sanctuary. This is just a little home away from home I like to frequent from time to time to help quiet the mind and balance the spirit. I am the Pinfall Wizard Cassidy Cray... and this foreboding individual to my left is my respected associate Bokrug Manaj. Together... we represent the Alpha and the Omega of the Prestige Wrestling Association. We are the beginning, the end, and all things in between... and we are here. Get ready PWA, for a most glorious and impossible enlightenment is upon you.”

BOKRUG: "Enlightenment shall come through pain and destruction. A glorious desecration of tag teams as we forge our path of tyrannical dominance. Our ascent to godhood is inevitable. Any futile attempt to resist shall be met with soul crushing force. PWA shall be rent asunder, a sacrifice to the ancient powers who will guide professional wrestling along our path to ascension. And at the end of that path..... evisceration."

CRAY: “That’s right... you do your thing my brother. As you can see... Bokrug and I don’t always see eye to eye when it comes to philosophical matters... but in that divide lies strength. For two polar opposites such as we represent the extremes of human consciousness. And despite our differences, we both recognize that our end goal is the same. The divine end... the singularity... that ultimate ether that lies beyond the fog at the far side of the tallest mountain.”

BOKRUG: "To reach the pinnacle, one must tread through the frozen fog, the path illuminated by a funeral moon, the encroaching darkness choking your breath, sapping your will, breaking your spirit in the manacles of doubt and despair. Coldsnakes, you shall be the first to be dominated, broken, sacrificed on the altar of pain and suffering for our unholy crusade. Your minds insane, your wills shattered, your souls enslaved, your bodies a pyre for the fires of damnation that will consume your very essence."

CRAY: “They will be the first to feel our divine light... and like all that come before the Alpha Omega, they will stare up at the lights and lay prostrate on the mat in the face of the singularity.”

BOKRUG: "Reverence through ruin."

CRAY: “So get ready Coldsnakes... get ready PWA... for the beginning...

MANAJ: “...and the end... is nigh.”

*Cray takes another pull from his pipe and blows the vapor into the camera as the screen fades to black.*

*** The scene opens backstage following PWA Assault. The FIERCE and DEADLY Coldsnakes are celebrating vigorously in the locker room following their controversial victory against the Blood Brothers. Giant Anaconda II is fist pumping silently as Junior Cobra leaps up and down, vigorously shaking a half-empty 2-liter bottle of RC Cola over his head. A PWA camera crew approaches them, microphone in hand. ***

REPORTER: “Excuse me gentlemen, I was hoping I could get a word with you regarding the strange and unexpected way your match tonight went.”

*** Cobra and Anaconda II ignore the reporter and continue jumping enthusiastically. ***

REPORTER: “Um... excuse me... Junior Cobra? If I could just have a few moments of yo...”

*** Cobra stops jumping and shoots the reporter a narrowed, impatient look. He then calmly points the tip of the shaken cola bottle at him and lets fly a blast of carbonated soda in his unsuspecting face.”

COBRA: “...hiss...”

*** The reporter pinwheels his arms and flails backwards into a row of lockers. Cobra and Anaconda II watch him struggle on the for a few moments before Cobra gingerly picks up the sticky, soda-covered microphone from the ground. ***

COBRA: “Ahem...”

*** Cobra dusts himself off and clears his throat. Anaconda II silently positions himself behind the smaller wrestler and flexes masculinly. ***

COBRA: (deep breath) “WE are the FIERCE and DEADLY COLDSNAKES, and we are BACK baby! We told you didn’t we?! We told you we were the BIGGEST, BADDEST tag team on the planet Earth, and tonight, a whole arena of screaming fans saw why! Tonight, on live TV we took on the Blood Brothers and MADE THEM TAP OUT BABY!!!”

*** The reporter struggles to his feet and leans into the microphone in Cobra’s hand. ***

REPORTER: “Well... you beat one-half of the Blood Brothers... in a handicap match.”

COBRA: “...we did what now?”

REPORTER: “Uh... well... Brawler Beckett attacked Pantaro before the bell... you just fought Snow.”

*** Cobra just stares blankly at the reporter. ***

COBRA: “... still not tracking here.”

REPORTER: “But... Brawler Beckett passed you on the ramp, pointed at Snow in the ring, and yelled ‘Get him!’. You... seriously don’t remember that?”

COBRA: “Who the hell is Brawler Beckett? Look, I don’t know what show you were watching but on PWA Assault, we just TRASHED the Blood Brothers. BOTH of them. Now I see what’s going on here... you got suckered in by that ‘twin magic’. Don’t be embarrassed, me and Anaconda here are old pros at that game. Put on masks... switch places in the ring, fool everybody. The Coldsnakes practically invented that trick! We had to stop eventually though. I just got too dang muscular looking to pull off the switch. But make no mistake, the FIERCE and DEADLY Coldsnakes just made mincemeat of the Snow Panthers! And for all you math majors out there, that makes 3 teams we’ve smashed since our debut!”

*** Cobra dramatically holds up a hand and starts counting off teams on his fingers ***

COBRA: “Knocking them down like flies! First off, the Blood Brothers!”

REPORTER: “You only fought half of them...”

COBRA: “Second, The Snow Panthers!”

REPORTER: “Same team.”

COBRA: “Third, Armageddon!”

REPORTER: “You haven’t fought them yet.”

COBRA: “Fake news. The facts speak for themselves fans, the Coldsnakes are your CLEAR number one contenders. We’ve beaten every single team in PWA and that makes us the uncrowned champions!”

REPORTER: “What about your challengers at the next PWA Assault, Alpha Omega? They just cut a promo on...”

COBRA: “FAKE NEWS! I can’t hear you, my ears are too clogged with awesome! Let’s go Anaconda, we have championship belts to claim!”

*** Cobra bounds off down the hall shouting ‘fake news’ to anyone in ear shot. Anaconda takes a sip from his bottle of RC Cola, shrugs, and follows his partner down the hall. Fade to black. ***

(Brian Fury is heading to the gym for a workout when he is stopped by Gary Bloomfield and a cameraman in the parking lot.)

Bloomfield: Excuse me Mr. Fury. Can we have a moment of your time for a quick interview?

(Fury pauses, closes his eyes, and opens them as he exhales.)

Fury: Sure Gary. You and your crew have done nothing but show me respect so we can talk....but I need this to be quick. I have a workout to get to.

Bloomfield: No problem and thanks for doing this!

(Bloomfield gives the cameraman the signal to begin taping as he begins to speak)

Bloomfield: Hello fans! We are here with Brian Fury. Mr. Fury, you are a participant and the upcoming heavyweight tournament. What are your thoughts?

Fury: I’ve gotta admit, PWA has really outdone themselves with this tournament. The 8 best heavyweights in the world today will all be competing to become champion and it doesn’t get any better than that. Gary, I’m facing Robert MacElroy first and I don’t have to tell you that he brings a lot to the table. Just last show be pinned Tiger Gold and that’s no easy feat. I’m in his way, he’s in my way......something’s gotta give, man!

Bloomfield: Mr. Fury, what can the fans expect from you?

Fury: Gary, I want you to know and the fans to know that this tournament and this opportunity mean EVERYTHING to me!! Do you know that throughout my entire career I’ve NEVER been given a title shot? Not ONCE!! Every time I beat somebody the promoter would say, “Just one more match and THEN you’ll get your shot!”. Well that shot never came. Those contracts never got sent to me. I’ve beaten world champions in every match imaginable but when it came time to put the title on the line they were nowhere to be found.

That’s why this might be my only shot at winning the gold and showing everyone that I’m the best in the world. I’ve gotta beat 7 world class athletes to do it but understand that I’m ready.

(Fury faces the camera and stares intently into the lens)

Fury: MacElroy, my journey starts with you. Right now you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. I want you to dig deep and hit me with everything you have......and then I want to look you in the eye when you realize that everything you have isn’t enough to BEAT ME! January 26th MacElroy, you get to choose......TAPOUT OR KNOCKOUT!!

( Fury extends his thumb and makes a slashing gesture as the scene fades.)

***The scene opens in a backstage room where the FIERCE and DEADLY Coldsnakes are huddled around a hacked PSP watching Alpha Omega’s latest promo on a smudged, cola-stained screen.***

COBRA: “Woooahhhhh... these guys are COOL.”

***Giant Anaconda II nods enthusiastically and scratches the chin of his mask with a beefy gloved hand***

COBRA: “Look at this guy with the cool sunglasses and the Bon Jovi hair and the sweet abs! I’ll bet he gets all the chicks... or dudes... both probably. Whatever he wants am-I-right? God that voice... that swagger!”

***Cobra shoves the PSP into Anaconda’s face and now points to the image of Bokrug Manaj.”

COBRA: “And look at THIS badass! All brooding and evil with the death metal face paint and the leather and... are those ‘spikes’?! This guy is hardcore!”

***Cobra slaps Anaconda in the chest and gesticulates wildly at the screen.***

COBRA: “How can we compete with a wardrobe budget like that?! Where do these people shop?!”

***Cobra leaps up and starts pacing and slamming his fist into his palm.***

COBRA: “You know what we have to do right big guy?”

***Anaconda makes a double finger-gun pose.***

COBRA: “You’re darn right! We have to rob them! Step one, we beat these guys next week on PWA Assault. Step two, we steal their stuff. Step three? Hukahs and Hotties. From now on, it’s the SEXY and MYSTERIOUS Coldsnakes.”

***Cobra mock lounges in a folding chair and aggressively pantomimes blowing a smoke ring from an invisible water pipe.***

COBRA: “Am... am I doing it right? I don’t know how... drugs work.”

***Anaconda gives Cobra an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.***

COBRA: “Wicked cool.”

***The camera fades to black.***

Scene opens to a secretary knocking on a wooden door.

"Uh, Mr. Pennyworth, sir? You've received an envelope from PWA Management?"

"Sure, just give it here."

The secretary leaves the office, while the camera remains trained on Richard Pennyworth. He opens the envelope, reads over it for a bit. He grabs a coffee mug that is sitting on his desk and launches it directly at the camera.

"MOTHERF"static...

At some point, he has apparently composed himself, and is now sitting on his desk, staring straight at the camera.

"So, it seems that I have been paired with Akria Wyld in the first round of the Heavyweight Tournament. I'll be honest, it's not how I would have wanted to start the drive to the top. But, when it boils down to it, Wyld has a reputation as being one of the best. I would have preferred to work up the ladder a little but, but if I can manage to defeat Akira Wyld, then I'll have a huge step up on the competition.

So, Akira. Don't hold back. I plan to hit the gym hard, start looking at all your old matches, and I'll be ready by Assault. I don't know if it'll be enough, but I'm damned sure that I'm not going to embarrass myself out there. And, win or lose, I'm positive we'll see each other again at some point."

(scene is the outskirts of San Diego. MacElroy is seen clad in sweats, his breath visible in the cold like the smokestack of a train, running up the road toward the camera. He slows and checks his watch as he approaches.)

"Oi! Y'early, 'at's guid, 'st's grand, it is. (points at watch) Me, too. (grins) 'ell, tha' match ... Mr. Gold, I thank ew. 'at's anellova welcome forr tha likes o' me. Ye tell me ye gave me yerr best, an' I'll take ye a' yerr werrrd, man, for tha' was a harrd match, i' was. Maybe tha best of me carreerrr thus farr. New tha' we know onanothurr better, I liuk forrwarrd teourr naext meet'n.

"An' new tha tourney! Firrst taest forr me is one Brrian Feurrie, a stoat of a man if e'er they're was one. Feurrie, Aye've seen yerr in action. Aye oundurrstan' tha' yerr an 'arrdcoore champ, dewnrite brrutall. Tha' suits mee feine, i' does. Aye 'ave an 'arrd coore, meself. Oondurrstan', Aye'm noo chearr, nae boorrd, nae a twist o' barrwirre. Aye get bahk up, eyrry teime, an' Aye het bahk. Be seyen yerr i' tha' ring."

(camers follows as MacElroy as he sprints off)

***The scene opens in a large, empty gymnasium. The faded blue walls are adorned with black and white pictures of grapplers from the past, and weathered and creased posters from wrestling’s bygone era. In the center of the longest wall is a large painted mural, depicting the famous Wyld wrestling family. In the center of the mural, beaming with pride and holding a championship belt is Greco Wyld, the patriarch or the Wyld Family and the founder of the Greco Wyld School of Wrestling. Flanking him on his right side are images of his two sons Rebel and Akira. On his left side is his only daughter Alyssa and her husband Damon Knight. In the picture, they are all smiling, a fading memory of a happier time.

The gymnasium floor is adorned with faded blue and grey mats. On top of the mats are an assortment of dusty, unused exercise machines. In the center of the building is a sturdy, well equipped wrestling ring. The acronym “G.W.S.W.” is emblazoned on the apron and mat of the ring.

Sitting on the mat in the ring, leaning back against the bottom turnbuckle of the far corner post, is Akira Wyld. He is dressed in a pair of G.W.S.W. sweat pants and a black tank top. His forearms rest heavily on his knees. His head is down and his silver hair hangs in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and without looking up he begins to speak.***

WYLD: “It’s been a long time since I’ve visited the old training grounds. Dad owned the building... prepaid the taxes for the next 20 years. Its just been sitting here, ready for someone to breathe fresh life into it. I suppose he hoped one day I’d come back and restart the school. Train a new generation of wrestlers under the Greco Wyld banner.”

***Wyld grabs the ropes and pulls himself to his feet.***

WYLD: “I mean, why wouldn’t I right? Isn’t that my legacy? To carry on the name and mantle of the ‘great’ Wyld Wrestling Family? To honor my ‘legendary’ father and all of his wrestling accomplishments? To pass on a lifetime of values and techniques that will keep professional wrestling strong for the next generation?”

***Wyld does a slow spin around the room, his arms out, gesturing to the many posters and photographs on the walls***

WYLD: “Sorry Dad... that’s not my style. You want to know why? Because in all those dreams and ambitions and lofty goals, there’s one thing missing.”

***Wyld stops, drops his hands, and stares into the camera.***

WYLD: “ME.”

***Wyld shoots two thumbs up, pointing to himself.***

WYLD: “For my entire life I’ve had this ‘glorious’ path laid out in front of me. From the time I cinched in my first headlock, I’ve been told that one day I’d follow in my father’s footsteps and take my place at the head of the table. But unlike my brother and sister, I saw what this all really was. This school... this ring... all of it... was built to honor and deify the ‘legendary’ Greco Wyld. Everything you see here is nothing but one old man’s desperate stab at immortality.”

***Wyld marches over to a corner post and hoists himself up to the middle turnbuckle, pantomiming cheering to the crowd.***

WYLD: “Every time I won a match... every title I held high... every cheer that came from the crowd... it was all for HIM. My entire career... my entire sense of self-worth as a performer... as a human being, was all centered around my perfect father and his amazing accomplishments.”

***Wyld puts his arms down and scowls.***

WYLD: “So that’s why I left... that’s why I turned my back on my father, my brother, my sister, this school... all of it. I did it because I’m BETTER than that. I’m the best damn wrestler in the world, and it’s not because of my bloodline. It’s not because of this school. It’s because for the past 16 years I’ve driven myself to be the best. I’ve made the hard choices. I’ve carved my own path. Any glory I’ve gotten has been because of NOBODY but myself.”

***Wyld jumps down from the turnbuckle and starts pacing back and forth in the ring.***

WYLD: “People see me as a hothead... they call me disrespectful... they say I’m entitled. Well I say that’s all bull. The truth is I talk a big game because I’ve EARNED it. I cast a long shadow because I’m a one-in-a-million talent that eclipses every other superstar in whatever arena I’m in! You say that’s conceited? I say that in this business, if you want to succeed, you make your own headlines, and you believe your own hype. Anyone who thinks otherwise is deluded.”

***Wyld throws two punches and a high knee, punctuating the last with a clap that echos through the empty gymnasium.***

WYLD: “I won’t apologize for turning my back on my family, and I won’t apologize to any of the PWA ‘superstars’ I have to lay low in order to get what I have coming to me.”

WYLD: “And what is coming to me... is the PWA Heavyweight Championship. Damion Black thinks he has me under control. He thinks that his precious Rise of Kings tournament is the first step in securing HIS legacy as the owner of PWA. Just like my father, he CLAIMS that he’s doing what he’s doing to give back to the next generation. But I see through his games. I see what’s really going on. This is all about his ego. Well after I’ve cut through the seven other men in this tournament and secured my place at the top of this organization... we’ll just SEE who’s really in charge.”

***Wyld leaps over the top rope and begins a slow and determined walk away from the ring and out of the gymnasium.***

WYLD: “This is MY time. This is MY organization. And after the Rise of Kings tournament... the PWA Heavyweight Championship and everything that comes with it will belong to Akira Wyld.”

***Wyld pushes through the double doors of the G.W.S.W. Training Center and exits the building, turning off the lights as he leaves. The camera remains on the darkened gymnasium for a few moments longer... then fades to black.***

*Scene opens backstage at the PWA arena. An excited young man with dark, shoulder length hair and silver tights is gushing over his surroundings as a director is attempting to instruct him.*

DERRIK ARZON: " Oh man! I can't believe this is happening! How cool is this?! I'm in front of a camera-"

DIRECTOR: "Yes, now if you can focus, Mr. Arzon-"

ARZON: "-at the PWA arena! Mom's never gonna believe this! I wonder if this is the same spot that Tiger Gold stood when he called out Brian Fury-"

DIRECTOR: "Mr. Arzon-"

ARZON: "-or maybe this is where Akira Wyld does his pre-match warmup! DUDE!! I could be in the very same spot where Junior FREAKIN' Cobra showered that one guy with cola-"

DIRECTOR: "DERRIK!!!!!!!"

ARZON: "Huh?"

DIRECTOR: "We are trying to shoot your promo, please focus."

ARZON: "Right!!........ uh, who am I talking about-"

DIRECTOR: "BECKETT!! *ahem* 'Brawler' Beckett."

ARZON: "Right!! Oh man, I'm getting the ring with THE 'Brawler' Beckett!-"

DIRECTOR: "FOCUS!!!!!"

ARZON: "Oh, uh, Beckett!! You maybe one of my favorites of all time, you may one of the most dominant light heavyweights in wrestling, you may hold victories over international stars like that time you beat Strongman Yoshihiro in 13:28 with a quick roll up in one of the most PHENOMINAL matches in Japanese wrestling history! Yeah, you may be a veteran with an amazing win loss record. You may be stronger and faster than me. You may eat guys like me for breakfast. You may be able to ‘pin’ me in no time flat. You may be way out of my league. You may... Uh... wait, where was I going with this? Oh well, SEE YOU AT ASSAULT! I HOPE YOU HAVE A COMFORTABLE FLIGHT THERE. IF YOU’D LIKE WE COULD MAYBE GET COFFEE BEFORE THE SHOW.”

DIRECTOR: “Derrick!!”

ARZON: "How was that?! Man, I am so STOKED!!!!"

*Camera fades out.*