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| Are you ready?; Knight v Carlton | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 14 2010, 11:35 PM (68 Views) | |
| kegg719 | Feb 14 2010, 11:35 PM Post #1 |
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Alexander Knight
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Scene One "And here's another one." Alexander Knight mutters to himself while sitting in the corner booth of a small bar. Again, he has his hood pulled up blocking out his face, the signature orange stubble is all that is really visible to the outside world. He watches as a man starts to approach a woman at the bar. The woman, a total babe by all accounts is having none of it except for the free drink from the would be suitor. The last guy to approach made it two minutes after the margarita was finished. This guy seems different though. He's dressed in a suit, implying that he has some money, and as far as men in a middle of nowhere city go he isn't bad looking. The man leans against the bar, looking first to make sure there is no alcohol spilt there. The woman seems to be invested, yet seems to be looking over the man's shoulder, towards the door. The man runs a hand through his hair, which he probably spent hours on before left. If it wasn't perfect he wouldn't be able to land the perfect woman. Knight is unsure if the man wants anything more than one night with this particular woman. He is also unsure if she wants anything from him, at all. Knight starts to replay some of their encounter through his brain as a group of guys approaches his table. Three of them. All obnoxiously large. They all seem to be missing teeth, and their is a rank odor. It is either from the flannel shirts that they are wearing or the mud covered boots on their feet. By definition, they must be "townies". The one front, probably the leader, speaks up. Knight checks back at the bar and notices the woman and man watching what is about to take place. "You mind giving up the booth, buddy?" Knight thinks for a minute. He's been here for almost two hours, watching everyone else interact. He's probably had enough drinks, but doesn't feel like moving. "Nah, I'm good." "I really think you should get up. I would hate to see something happen to you." Knight contemplates giving up the booth, but the only other seat available is at the bar. And he despises sitting at the bar. You either get the drunk lunatic or the man who got shot down by three women already and wants to seek your aid for advice on which of the remaining women he might be able to take home that night. In fact, the only seat available is in between a huddled mass of grey hair with its head on the counter, and the blossoming relationship he watching earlier. It's too hard to observe from right on top, so Knight declines again. "I told you I'm good. Besides I haven't finished my drink." The large one reaches out and picks up the scotch in front of Knight. "This one?" He then turns it over and pours it out on the ground. Some of it splashes and hits Knight's shoes. "Look, it's gone. Now move." Knight remains seated. He really has no desire to fight these guys. Even though it is three on one it is hardly fair. All of them appear to be around their limit for the night, and the one in back is chewing his fingernails, clearly not a fighter. Knight raises his hand and points to the barkeep. "Can I get another. Scotch on the rocks." The barkeep acknowledges him and then starts to make the drink as he shakes his head. Knight checks in on the man and woman. The man has bought her another, so apparently he is making off better than the last guy. Her attention is still divided however. She keeps checking the door, looks at the man to register some interest, and checks to see what is happening between "the entourage" of townies and the mysterious man in the corner. "You guys still here? Why don't you go play pool. I'll even buy you a pitcher." "We don't want to play pool. We're too drunk to play pool. Besides, you're in our booth. Now move or we'll make you move." "Honestly, I don't think you could." "Dude, their are three of us, and one of you. And I'm getting sick of this, last chance." The bartender has made his way over and delivered Knight's scotch. The bartender moves away quickly as he caught this last exchange. If these weren't regular customers he probably would have said something to them, but you can't go against the regulars. Knight picks up his drink and pours it all down his throat. Then points to the bartender and orders another one. "I'm not moving." The leader makes a motion and one of the other two guys moves in, he places his arm on Knight's arm and pulls him off the bench. Knight pulls his arm free and then throws an elbow into the first guy's sternum, knocking the air from his lungs and causing him to drop to his hands and knees. The leader moves in and takes up his best fighting stance while the nail biter stumbles backwards, trips over a chair and goes to the ground. Knight smirks at the leader, "You really don't want to do this." "I'm not scared of you. Who are you anyway and why are you in our bar?" "Name's Alexander Knight, the CWF has a show here this week and I'm kind of in it." "Shit! You're a wrestler?" "You could say that." The guy puts his hands down, apparently thinking twice, but then lunges forward and wraps his arms around Knight ramming him into the wall, this knocks the hood off of Knight's face, revealing his face for the first time out of the CWF ring. His blue eyes are filled with fury. His hair is a deep blonde, almost a golden orange and matches the stubble that engulfs his chin. He catches the woman at the bar's eye right as he drops an elbow into the back of the man's head, which promptly collapses him to the floor. By now the other two are up. "Help your friend out of here. I think he's had a bit too much for one night." The two guys come over tentatively and help their friend up. Then "the entourage" stumbles out of the bar, looking to make sure Knight doesn't pursue them. After all, not too many bar-fights end without any glass or tables being broken. Knight walks over to the bar and pulls out his wallet and puts a fifty on the counter. "That should cover it." He reaches through the man and woman sideways, facing the woman and grabs his drink. The fury has dissipated in his eyes. They are now showing a kindness that has rarely been seen. He winks and raises his glass to the woman. He then turns and starts to walk out of the bar, he pours the scotch down his throat and places it on the end of the counter. He turns one last time and makes eye contact with the woman. He flashes her a smile and then pulls his hood up and over his face, leaving only that trademark orange stubble. He turns and leaves the bar. He makes a motion to hail a taxi and when it approaches says something to the driver before he rushes across the street. He ducks into an alley and watches the bar. The door opens and the woman appears, without the man. She sees the taxi driver waiting there. She goes up and opens the door expecting to find Knight but no one is there. She has a quick exchange with the driver before standing up and looking around the street, she doesn't see anything and ducks in and the cab pulls away. Knight smirks. "Works every time." End Scene ***************** Scene Two Alexander Knight is seated high above the Idaho Center, amongst the catwalks in the rafters. He's gazing down on a mostly dark arena as the final touches are being placed on the ring. Aprons straightened, ropes tightened, that sort of thing. He remains poised, as if he were going to jump down at any moment, but he just sits there; calm, cool, and collected. His hood pulled over his face, blocking his eyes and whatever intent lies therein from the camera. His mind wanders from one thing to the next, finally focusing on last week's match and his golden debut. The camera focuses in on The Annihilating Angel as he begins speaking. "One week, one win. A rather impressive victory if I say so myself. Especially since it was over the CWF Champion, Jarvis King, leader of The Entourage. And now, with a new week comes a new competitor. King's self-proclaimed most loyal subject, Mr. Mark Carlton. As I said last week, I've been scouting this company for awhile and I have not heard much of him. I guess that levels the playing field between the two of us, doesn't it Mark. I started following you last week, being a member of The Entourage I had a feeling you would emerge ar some point in my match, and I have learned something from your promos, you think that all the new guys are push-overs. In your head you have us all grouped together under the Xtinguish category. But you see, just because I am new doesn't mean I am a pushover, and not a threat to you or anyone else. Just because you have a piece of gold, doesn't make you a wrestling god. After all, you are aware that I defeated your leader last week. I sufficiently embarrassed King to the point where he had to flee from the ring. I can only hope that he shows more bravado through the opening rounds of this tournament and fights like the champion he is, when his precious championship is actually on the line. That way I will be able to meet him at the end, and make him pay for his indiscretions, and show him what a real champion is. But that's jumping to the end of this little masquerade. I watched your most recent promo and I must say it was good for a laugh. What was it you said, "You exacted revenge on Cain and have the opportunity to do so to me?" You see I was at ringside last week when you and Mace launched your little attack on Cain. Granted I got out of there as I am in no position to be taking up sides in this little war. But I watched as I went up the ramp, if your idea of exacting revenge is getting planted onto a steel chair with a DDT, then by all means do your worst to me this week. You see this match is much too important for me to just wallow away as it seems you are doing. After all, you are a tag-team champion you have gold. How much of a motivating factor can the CWF Championship be when there is already a title around your waist? For me though, this match is everything. It is just the beginning of why I chose the CWF, and why I chose now. This tournament, Modern Warfare, was like a beacon calling to me. Letting me know that the moment was right to make my impact. Last week was a preliminary, something of a warm-up. This week is the real thing. You laugh at getting one of the new guys, but you have only had three matches here, and only in one have you been by yourself. You have no one to turn to. No one will come down to your aid, as they have their own matches to wrestle later that night. It's just you and me Mark. That tag belt sitting on the outside, void of all meaning. It is in these moments that I shine. These are what I plan on building a career on. A career that starts this Tuesday. So, Mr. Carlton, you have to ask yourself, are you prepared to go into a match without any back-up? Are you ready to have the full force of an audiences hate bearing down on you? Are you prepared to fight the growing stereotype of you being a tag-team wrestler? Do you have it in you to rise to the occasion this Tuesday, when everything is riding on one match? Are you prepared to exact revenge for your boss after last week's humbling loss? I hope you are. I hope you realize what this means. I hope you wash away some of your ignorance, maybe drowning it in booze so that you can see what is front of you. Someone who is more than capable of taking you out and winning this thing. I just have one last thing to ask you, are you prepared to be annihilated? At this Knight falls backwards off the rafters. The cameraman lunges forward and then looks down, but the Annihilating Angel is no where to be seen. End Scene |
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