Post by wwjbcd on Nov 18, 2014 6:01:36 GMT
Date: Sunday - November 30, 2014
Location: A-S-K Associates Warehouse in Kansas City, Missouri
(Seating capacity of 1,500 people)
Commentary: Matthew Baily and West Newhaven
(Card Subject to Change)
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- Double or Nothing - Triple Threat -
"The Gangsta" Frankie Cocheese vs. "The Last King" KONSTANTINE vs. "Perfectly Sane" Maxwell Schneider
Above are the current front runners of the Contest of Conquest. Each of these men have been clawing their way up the leader boards and are all sitting at nine points. However, this particular match has the chance to shake the very foundation of the Contest thus far. In this match up, the winner will be awarded six points instead of the normal three. This victory almost guarantees they stay in the lead heading towards the second super card where they will compete for The RWD World Championship. Expect a high impact contest between some of the best we have to offer as the go for the gold and attempt to prove that they're worthy.
hhhMaxwell seems beside himself, covering his face for a bit before standing back up and pointing over to the table! A bit of blood drips from Maxwell's face to the mat below, Maxwell once again grabbing a hold of Frankie Cocheese and throwing him into the table! Cocheese remains with his back to the table with a look of pain on his face as Maxwell lifts him up and places him onto it. Maxwell goes to climb up as well, the crowd chanting for his "Perfectly Sane" plan! However, Maxwell stops himself, instead punching Cocheese in the head before choking him to keep him in position. With Maxwell confident in his plan, he finally climbs up as well, picking Cocheese up - Frankie looking finished as Maxwell goes to pull him in - Cocheese ducking underneath, spinning Maxwell around, and hitting The Takeover through the table! The crowd is shocked! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Cocheese with the cover! ONE! TWO! THREE! *DING DING DING* Brenden Reynalds - Here is your winner!
Frankie Cocheese!hhh
Frankie Cocheese! FRanKKie COCheeesese! frANKieyyy cOCHEEEEssehh! Frayn-kee-coh-cheezzz! frrrrrrrrrr-kk!-knnnnnnnnn-zz! ksssshhhhh-kt!-chsshhhhh-t-
And the parade of madness was postponed due to whether... or not The Portland Madman's first loss in several years would affect his already damaged psyche. No. Not a man whose lived through enough hardships for multiple people to experience. This was just another bump in the road of insanity. A loss was bad, but a loss to evil incarnate was a major disappointment. A dis-a-p-p-ointment. A failure. A failure. A failure to the side of Good. But... but...
Is "Perfectly Sane" Maxwell Schneider really good? Really?
Or just the lesser, lesser, LESSER of two evils?
KONSTANTINE seemed like the arch-demon of the Revolutionary Wrestling Division at the time. Where does his puzzle piece fit in this equation now?
Frankie Cocheese seemed like the arch-demon of the Revolutionary Wrestling Division as of late. His piece is set. Does his piece connect with KONSTANTINE's?
The border was set by men like Travis Rech and Robert "Badger" Garland. They set those border pieces day in and day out until all pieces within were stuck with nowhere to go but locked into place, doomed forever to lock into place with aggr
essive resentful peer pie
ces.
So does that mean KONSTANTINE does indeed lock in with
Cocheese on one side, and Schneider lock in on the other? But isn't any
piece surrounding Cocheese's destined for evil thoughts, evil deeds, evil SOULS?
Cocheese on one side, and Schneider lock in on the other? But isn't any
piece surrounding Cocheese's destined for evil thoughts, evil deeds, evil SOULS?
YES.
But it's a necessary evil. We are the doomed generation. Step into Hell and warm up before the battle!
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So of course he follows the little man, because a part of him didn't care if something happened, and another part WANTED something to happen. Maybe revenge for "crossing the boss"? No. Schneider was no Washington. Garland wanted revenge, though. Not this way. This was safe. He could feel it in his weary old bones.
The limo was vacant, save the chauffeur and himself. No words were exchanged. The limo drove off. Destination: currently unknown. Possibly the hotel he'd be staying at?
Finally, the silence was broken by the chauffeur, via the intercom system. "How long've you been wrestlin' for?"
Confused that THAT was the question asked of all things, Schneider all the same answers, "A looooooong time."
"Really?"
Schneider shrugged, "Not as long as you'd think, but I've been fightin' one way or another for as long as I can remember."
"Yeah? Sounds like you've had a hard life."
"It's been a wild ride, that's for sure!" Schneider laughed, amused at the little man's bluntness.
"This RWD, they're puttin' on some mega-show? And you're facin' some guys called KONSTANTINE and Cocheese?"
Schneider's face went longer as each man's name was uttered. KONSTANTINE and Cocheese. War and Death. Conquest and Bloodthirst. Two Conqueror Worms, one that's been already been cut in half, the other that nearly consumed Schneider. One who survived their bifurcation and ready to exact doubled-up vengeance, the other content to continue the torture. Both are ready to finish off The Portland Madman once and for all with stakes at their apexes. "Yup. Back into the piranha pool. I can't wait. Can't WAIT!!"
"Oh yeah?" the old man said with a lingering tone of condescendence. "The young man, you beat 'em, but he's been focused on runnin' down his opponents, always thinkin' about gettin' a chance at you again. Now he's got it. He's not gonna accept losin' to ya again."
"KONSTANTINE's in for a WORLDA hurt, mister! A WORLDA hurt!" Schneider snapped back. This old man's clearly a wrestling fan, if he knows all about what's been going on, in the RWD, at least. "He's SICK! Why the HELL would he wanna tangle with me again after the whuppin' I gave that punk? So he's been obSESSED with me since we last met... SO?! He's a NUT! A NUT!! He picked himself up, dusted himself off, he. surVIVED against me, and hell, he got his life back on track, and what's he wanna do? Make me take him down again, only THIS time, mister, I ain't gonna let him turn into a disease like that Frankie Cocheese!"
"The guy who beat ya, finally. He's ALREADY ahead of the game. He beat ya down like a DOG, and he's fixin' ta do the same at this big show. More people'll get ta see ya go down to that fella again. So the same way yer goin; on about that young guy, HE'S goin' on about YOU!"
Wringing the neck of an old chauffeur would be a bad idea on so many levels.
"Frankie Cocheese made a LIAR outta me!" Schneider bellowed. "I was in MY environment, MY playground! I had him dead ta RIGHTS! I ain't gonna make the same mistakes against that lunatic! I'm gonna put him down like a sick DOG! I'll, I'll CRIPPLE KONSTANTINE so bad he'll be left traumatized enough he'll just forGET about me, and while he's rockin' back and forth in the corner, I'll finish off Frankie in the worst way! I'll gouge out his eyes, tear off his ears, pull out his tongue, I'll bust his teeth and break his bones, I'll- NO!! I'll leave his ears for LAST: THAT way, he can hear each bone ssssssssssNAP! I'll leave him ta DIE! I'll FORCE KONSTANTINE ta SEE what I did ta Frankie so he'll know for SURE doggin' me's a mistake... a bloody MESS of a mistake!"
The old man chuckled, "You really HAVE lost it!"
"What? WHAT?!" Schneider shrieked as he cupped his hand to his ear, then unbuckled the seat belt and banged on the divider window. "LOST it? LOST IT?! HUH???!!! Why do you people keep SAYIN' that?! I got PAPERS! KONSTANTINE's crazy! Frankie's crazy! I just gotta do what I gotta do ta make sure they can't do nothin' ta no one ELSE! It's evil for the sake of GOOD!"
Once again, the old man chuckled, "GOOD, huh? Who's 'good' anyway? YOU sure ain't no good guy! So who's GOOD?"
Schneider, not really knowing where this was heading, since as far as he knew, this old man should have only know what all has been going on from what was aired on television and online, opted to respond thusly: "Well... I am... AIN'T I?"
The old man cackled so hard he started coughing. The limo veered for a few moments. After a few moments more of silence, the old man responded, "You ain't. Oh, those people who buy tickets to the shows LOVE ya, but that don't mean NOTHIN'! It just means yer an entertainin' feature of the show. Ya don't go about things the same way everyone else does. It's a breath of fresh air. Gets the blood movin' in 'em! Then they get ta love ya MORE when yer beatin' down guys they don't LIKE already. You'll watch: the day you fight someone they like BETTER, you'll see 'em turn on ya. You'll SEE!"
Schneider scoffed at that. "I don't see how that don't make me a good guy."
The old man's tone takes on a bit of irritation now. "Look how you come to the ring! Look how you wrestler yer matches! Yer a MANIAC! Yer gonna HURT someone one of these days! And I think you SEE that, and you just don't CARE. Ya don't CARE! So, you ain't no good guy. Just a guy the fans like who beats up the guys the fans DON'T like. YOU, are not GOOD."
Schneider grins, as if he doesn't know what else to do. His hands tense and clutch at the air. He contemplates all the ways, all the EASY ways he could silence this nuisance... and then he gets it. He loosens up. He slumps back into his seat. He doesn't know what to say.
"Yer little brain finally understands?" the old man says, relieved. "But hey, you can still do what ya want, ya know. Just keep on doin' what yer doin', only realize that at any time, you'll be alone. I think ya know that was bound ta happen anyway."
Still, silence.
"Oh, don't be a li'l baby about it!" the old man scolds. "Just focus on what you wanna do to the young guy and the gangster. Hey, consider it therapy!"
Then, the old man stopped talking. Schneider was left alone with his thoughts. His crazy, crazy thoughts. Thoughts of what the chauffeur dropped on him, thoughts of From the Ashes, thoughts of his opponents KONSTANTINE and Frankie Cocheese. Thoughts of punishment. Thoughts of retribution. Thoughts of victory. Thoughts of blood. Thoughts of how they'll scream. Thoughts of gore, charnel, offal, sirens, straightjackets, laughter, and walls. No. no more walls. Never again walls. THOSE walls. No. Never again. Never. There has to be a middle ground. Hurt them. Hurt them bad enough they leave him alone forever. Hurt them so bad he barely escapes being taken away. Ride that line. Traipse on that razor's edge. Abut evil. Don't become evil. Become evil. Don't become evil. Just... pantomime it. Emulate it. Just for one night. Just for one night. Please...
"Those... guys... KONSTANTINE... Frankie Cocheese... mister, I assure you, WHATEVER I am, whatever you or anyone ELSE might think, I'm 'Perfectly Sane' Maxwell Schneider, and I DO what I gotta DO. That's ALL I've ever been about. And at From the Ashes, what I gotta DO ain't gonna be pretty."
There's silence again, broken by the old man chuckling again, "Yeah, I guess so! Anyway, we're here."
And sure enough, the limo comes to a stop in front of a temporary-parking spot in front of the Marriott. Schneider gathers his bags, exits the vehicle, and knocks on the passenger window at the front of the limo. The window rolls down partway.
"Well, mister, thanks for the ride. Don't think it hasn't been fun... because it HASN'T!"
Then Schneider storms off.
The window rolls down further, the old man looking on as The Portland Madman makes his way inside the hotel.
He inhales deeply and shakes his head. With a small chuckle, he says, "Good luck... son."
Then, the window rolls back up, eventually obfuscating the inside of the limo. It slowly moves out of the spot, before driving off.
THE END.
so quickly so sad!
