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| The Aftermath; Carlton vs Knight | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 13 2010, 03:20 PM (96 Views) | |
| Mark Carlton | Feb 13 2010, 03:20 PM Post #1 |
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Wednesday morning As was becoming something of a habit for him, Mark Carlton awoke in a groggy, hung over daze. He had clearly been out drinking the previous night… but what, where and with whom were unclear. What was clear, however, was why. He looked at his bedside table and, sure enough, there it was. The World Tag Team Championship. He had done it. Claimed championship gold. And in doing so, avenged the family honour. So now, I wait. Taking in his surroundings, he determined that he was in his hotel room – alright, so he hadn’t left Denver the previous night. And… yes, he was naked. He had had sex last night! But where was the girl? He looked around some more, and saw, with his still somewhat blurred vision, what seemed to be a short-haired girl. Ooh, interesting. I’ve never been with a girl with short hair before! He made to say “good morning, sexy thing”, but remembered the incident with Cali the previous week. That’s not going to happen again! This girl is clearly not Cali! ‘Good morning, sexy thing,’ he purred. As the person next to him stirred, his face changed from arousal to sheer horror. ‘Mace?’ The “girl” rolled over, revealing herself to be his tag team partner, Colton Mace. Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Carlton’s mental screams were matched by Mace’s vocalised screams. ‘What are you doing in my bed?’ Carlton demanded. ‘Your bed? What are you doing here? This is my bed!’ ‘Does yours have a Van Gogh hung over it?’ ‘…no.’ ‘Then it’s mine!’ ‘Like it fucking matters! Why am I in your bed, you sick pervert?’ Oh God oh God oh God! What the hell happened last night? ‘Why would you come to my bed? It’s not like yours is terribly far away!’ ‘Okay, let’s assess the situation. Are you wearing pants?’ Carlton checked. ‘That… um, that would be a no. You?’ Mace lifted up the sheets on his side. ‘Nope.’ There was almost ten full seconds of awkward silence before Mace spoke. ‘Good Lord.’ ‘So…’ said Carlton, ‘you, um, want to get some breakfast, or – ’ ‘Shut up! You stupid Brit, how can you be so flippant about this!’ ‘Look, perhaps this isn’t as bad as it looks – ’ ‘We’re in a bed together, and we’re naked! I’d say it’s pretty bad! What the hell could justify this?’ Almost on cue, the door opened. The two men looked up sharply… to see an attractive brunette woman holding two coffees. She looked at them and grinned. ‘Morning, champs! Did you have a good time last night?’ Carlton’s jaw simply dropped, while Mace breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. ‘Oh, thank God!’ he said. ‘Miss? Please believe me when I say that I have never been more glad to see any individual in my entire life.’ The woman gave a coffee to each of them and kissed Carlton on the lips. ‘Aww. You are such a charmer! I tell you, though, I’ve never seen two guys more eager to outperform each other in my life!’ ”Outperform”? ‘“Outperform”?’ She winked. ‘You know… in drinking. Among other things.’ ‘So which of us won?’ asked Mace. The girl grinned. ‘The two of you wrestled to a draw.’ She giggled as she saw the look of horror on each of their faces. ‘Metaphorically speaking. But let’s just say… I can see why you’re the tag team champions. And now…’ She checked her watch. ‘…now, I should get going. I just ducked out from work. You guys really should drink less.’ She walked towards the door. ‘Oh, and I left you both my number. Call me!’ The door shut behind her. Both men breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Well, that explains that,’ said Carlton. ‘Except for “outperforming”. But that’s obvious. I clearly outperformed you.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I’m Colton Mace! Of course I outperformed you!’ ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. You know what they say about British workmanship.’ Before Mace could make a glib reply, the door opened again. Both looked up, expecting to see the girl again. Instead, it was Carlton’s manager Steve, who walked in loudly saying ‘So, how’s the new champ? I figured that you’d be awake by – holy shit!’ Steve saw the shirtless figures of Carlton and Colton and winced. ‘Bloody hell, mate, you could’ve told me about this!’ ‘No, no, there was a girl!’ said Colton and Carlton simultaneously. ‘Sure there was, mate.’ ‘No, no, she gave us her number!’ ‘Uh huh. What’s her name?’ There was about five seconds of silence, before Carlton said ‘Sarah,’ as Mace said ‘Whitney.’ Steve simply laughed. ‘That’s what I figured. Now Colton, if I could borrow Mark…’ ‘You can keep him.’ Casting around for his underpants, Mace mercifully put them on before leaving the covers. As quickly as possible, he pulled on the rest of his clothes and bolted out. Steve sat on the edge of the bed and made to speak. Carlton cut him off. ‘Just… don’t say anything.’ Steve laughed. ‘Don’t worry, mate, your personal life is none of my business. What is my business, though, is your match this week.’ Carlton groaned. ‘Who have I got?’ ‘Alexander Knight.’ Carlton laughed. ‘They gave me a newbie?’ Steve rolled his eyes. ‘One, he’s very good. Two, you’re only in your fifth match, so hush.’ ‘Fifth match, but…’ Carlton pointed at the belt. ‘I’ve already won gold.’ ‘Be flippant if you want, Mark, but Alexander Knight is to be taken seriously. Out of all the people who made their debuts last week, he was the most impressive. He managed to get quite a bit of offence on Jarvis, and that’s no mean feat.’ ‘He was teamed up with Cain, right?’ ‘Are you making excuses?’ ‘No, I just – look, this kid’s no match for me.’ ‘Did you even watch his match?’ ‘No, I was crouched in attack position waiting for Jarvis’ signal, remember?’ ‘Touché. In any case, I’ve pulled some of the files on Knight. Let’s get back to New York, and you can record your promo there.’ ‘Steve, you’ve never really explained to me why – ’ ‘Because you HAVE to!’ There were a few seconds of awkward silence as the two men looked at each other, before they started laughing. ‘You have a taxi outside?’ asked Carlton. ‘Yeah. And on the way there, I’ll explain exactly why you need to do promos.’ Wednesday evening Scene: Carlton’s penthouse. The Fearless Atlantic Gentleman sits comfortably in his armchair, nursing a glass of cognac, not looking in the least like he had a hangover that could split the skull of a rhinoceros. Carlton: Well, here we are again. Except this time, I am in possession of a rather nice trinket… He pulls up the World Tag Team Championship belt – the name “Colton Mace” is emblazoned on it. Carlton frowns. Carlton: Hmm… we must’ve swapped. Must remember to get mine back. But the point stands. I am one half of the World Tag Team Champions. And along with Colton Mace and Jarvis King, I form – arguably - the most powerful stable in CWF – the Entourage. And now I have an opportunity to compete for a far greater prize – the World Heavyweight Championship. He leans back and takes another sip of cognac. Carlton: But, of course, in order to get the championship I so richly deserve, I must go through a number of – apparently – other deserving contestants. And the first person I must face is… a man in his second match. Oh, fantastic! It’s bad enough that Mace got Ramsey in the first round, but I have to face a new recruit! I – He stops to collect himself. Carlton: Excuse me. I did not intend to lose my composition. But I regret to inform you, Mr Bishop, that you are simply no match for me. Off camera, a voice whispers “It’s Knight!” Carlton: I thought it was Bishop! Voice: That’s another one of them! Carlton: Good Lord, we’re building a veritable chessboard here. But anyway. Mr. Rook. You were apparently very impressive last week – I wouldn't know, I was waiting to beat the living daylights out of your tag team partner. But a victory over Jarvis King, in your debut no less, is not to be utterly derided. Neither, you’ll find, is a loss to the Fearless Atlantic Gentleman, and Jarvis King’s most loyal subject. Yes, Mace, I said I’m the most loyal. Another sip of cognac, and the Fearless Atlantic Gentleman sighs in appreciation of the fine beverage. Carlton: In all seriousness, though, Knight. You had a hand in causing a degree of embarrassment to my esteemed leader last night on Massacre. Myself and Colton Mace have already exacted retribution on Cain: I now have the unique privilege of exacting Jarvis’ vengeance upon you: with no Mace to interfere with me and dilute the fact that it will be me, and only me, who defeats you. Carlton finishes off the drink and sets down the glass. Carlton: I have nothing else to say. Thank you, and God save the Queen. The scene fades to black. Friday morning It was a rare sober awakening for Mark Carlton. Simply put, he had not felt particularly like drinking – perhaps as a result of the experience he had had on Tuesday night. He made himself a coffee and went downstairs to get his mail – more as a matter of routine than anything. He never got anything but bills and the occasional adult magazine. He was surprised, however, to see an envelope that didn’t have “New York Electrical Company” or “Hustler” on it – rather, it was written in a script he immediately knew. Abandoning the other letters, he sprinted back to his penthouse, casting about for the letter opener. The envelope was made of a very fine paper – almost like parchment. And the lettering was clearly done by a tremendously expensive fountain pen. Carlton felt a cold chill run down his spine. This is it. He opened the envelope, and a piece of the same material fell out. The text was simple: Dear Mark. At your cousin’s urging, watched your fight on Tuesday night. Your victory was admirable. This is not a letter of forgiveness; rather, you should consider it an opening of the lines of communication. You still have a long way to go before you completely redeem yourself in my eyes. Congratulations on your championship. Defend it with all your pride. John Carlton. |
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