Forever Unscarred RP: Enter the 36 Chambers

[sonstuds]

Prologue

September 11th, 2006

{Located in the remote desert; the Anointed. Alex Sean and EBR, anyways. They sit on two perpendicular wooden logs, staring in different directions at the rough, remote terrain. They sit their calmly as the wind slightly blows, waiting for Matthew Werner to reappear to film their latest chapter in his documentary. Both men have different looks on their faces. Any one could tell that EBR is simply in the process of waiting; the undesired feeling that there’s no logical reason to start anything productive with the preexisting knowledge that it could be cut short. Of course, as each minute ticks down he realizes he made the wrong choice, prompting him to unwillingly succumb to his boredom. Alex Sean, on the other hand, sits with a perplexed and complicated look on his face, pondering. He speaks.}

Sean: You know… it’s kind of interesting. If you ever read the Bible, both new and old testaments, you’d probably notice a startling revelation in the subtext.


EBR: What?


Sean: You see, when God created this earth, and more specifically man, he created him in his image. Throughout the beginning of time, God watched over man, guided him, and led him both morally and spiritually. Not only did God lead man however, but he also judged man if he were to break any of his sacred commandments. It was only until the crucifixion where any of that changed. With the entrance of Christ and his death on the cross, it was no longer about following God’s commandments or else. Christianity, from the crucifixion, to now, and all the way until Revelation, was then decided by one sacred rule that you must follow; Believe in God and Jesus Christ, and you will be granted entrance into God’s kingdom.


EBR: … You’re not gonna become all Born-again Christian are you?


Sean: My point is, when you look at it in those terms, it seems to me that the time between the Crucifixion and Revelation is the loneliest of all. This time is lonely because God isn’t directly watching down us, not watching our every step and thought. While that leniency makes living a devout life easier, it leaves us in the cold and dark… It’s like this quote I read one time; “In both birth and death we are alone, but neither in creation or death do we seem to live in as much solitude as we do in life". It’s that gap in the middle that leaves us at our most alone and isolated.


EBR: What’s this all about?


Sean: I’ve just been thinking recently.


EBR: Thinking about what? Us? The Anointed?


Sean: The Revolution; Our revolution more importantly. I have to ask; Have you really thought about where this is all going?


EBR: To be honest… Well, let’s face it; I’m not much of a leader. Truthfully, I’ve sort of just been following your lead so far.


Sean: I see.


EBR: I don’t mean to break your balls, but the last time you spoke to me like this was right before the last time you left the XWA.


Sean: It’s just… you know, I had it all figured out. I still do, honestly. The Anointed, our revolution, it’s all true and makes sense and I believe in it wholeheartedly, but I saw something today that made me think something about myself.


EBR: And pray tell, what is that?


Sean: Do you remember earlier tonight when Matthew was filming our segment and you were sort of going off about yourself and the WFWF?


EBR: Yeah, why?


Sean: While you were talking, I was just sort of sitting there thinking. Thinking and looking into the fire. Something kind of interesting happens when you set a fire on sand; Over time the sand begins to burn and crystallize. After a while, crystallized sand almost… reflects. As I looked into the fire I began to think about how long it had been since I had looked at my own reflection. You probably know this already considering your past, but as life goes on and you do more things you regret, you start staring at your reflection less and less… almost, in a sense, in fear of the man that will be looking back at you. But as I stared into that fire I saw an image of a man I haven’t seen in years. Not the man I am today, but the man I was… that I haven’t been in a long time.


EBR: What… “Alex Showtime”?


Sean: In a sense. I looked into that fire and saw his pale skin, his platinum hair, hell even his green contacts leering back at me. It was startling, to say the least. And by seeing that image, it made me realize something that I’ve been denying for all these years.


{EBR gives an inquisitive stare towards Alex Sean.}


Sean: I realized that no matter how many years go by, no matter how old I get or much I change physically, that side of my personality still exists, and will always exists. That side of my personality, Alex Showtime if you will, lives in me forever as the better or worse but always equal half of my psyche. He’s the one that needs to fight, that keeps coming back, that keeps wanting more.


EBR: Well Alex… let me be honest… Maybe that’s a good thing.


Sean: What do you mean?


EBR: I mean, maybe that is your better half. Rather than fighting within yourself, maybe you should just let yourself rest and exist as one. Think about it from a career standpoint. If you allowed yourself to be yourself and let that side of your mind run free, you could be… incredible. You take that fighting spirit and mix it with the fundamental skills you’ve acquired over the years, and you could become truly the greatest of all time in all aspects. Not to mention the money you could make.


{Alex Sean lets out a slight chuckle, then reaches into his pocket and grabs a pack of cigarettes.}


Sean: You know man, I always compare myself to the greats; Frost, Destroyer, The Shape, Raider… But you’re honestly more like them than I’ll ever be.


{As Sean speaks, he reaches inside the carton, pulls out a cigarette, lights, and inhales.}


EBR: Well… Thanks man… I appreciate that.


Sean: That wasn’t a compliment. I’m gonna be real with you E; The greats, they all… we all have our time as the best, we all have our time to shine. You run down the list of the greats, the ones I mentioned before, Kyzer, myself, you… We’ve all had our time in the spotlight where we’re winning and succeeding in every way imaginable. But E, have you ever seen Frost, or Shape, or Lenore or any of these greats once they’ve run their course and are no longer on top? Because I’ll tell you, it’s never because they become less talented or not as great. The truth is, skill can last only as long as passion and drive. And while that side of our personality, my Alex Showtime, their Frosts and Raiders and Shapes, give us that passion and drive, it eventually digs our own graves. Buried into our own mind’s eye, never living and existing forever. Once that dark side of our personality takes over, we are left into a pit of misery and pain. Because the truth is, we all get involved in this for one reason or another, and usually it’s to fill a void of something we never had. With you, it was the future that your lifestyle didn’t offer, with me it was the father and the appreciation for who I was that I craved. But all of this… belts, victories, feuds… It won’t do it. And once we lose all of that, we’re left with nothing but the beast inside us. The beast inside us that forever craves more… and more… and more, and no matter how much it’s been fed, it still wants more, even when we have nothing to offer. I realized tonight when I saw my reflection that this is my inevitable fate, the one shared by all those who came before us, and all those who have come after us.


{In rare form, there is a long moment of silence between the two. Sean inhales deeply on his cigarette while EBR, remaining propped up in a seated position, stares down at the ground.}


EBR: So does this mean that you’re leaving?


Sean: I’m not sure… honestly… I really don’t know.


EBR: Well you know what man, I get where you’re coming from and maybe you’re right about that all, but this isn’t all about you. You aren’t just doing this for yourself I hope. You said that this was for the WFWF, for revolution, for me, fo…


Sean: I’m not telling you this for me. I’m telling you all of this as a warning, E. Because whether you believe it or not, I’ve walked the same road you’re on. It’s the same road we’ve all walked. And if you continue down this path, I swear to you EBR, you’ll fall into the same void. Unless you do something about it, you share our fate.


EBR: Well the way you make it sound it’s inevitable, so what’s the point in even fighting it?

Sean: Because you’re different from all of us in one sense; When you started wrestling, you did it to give yourself a future. The life you led in Toronto gave you no chance at that, but by becoming a wrestler you had at least an opportunity. And while my void cannot be filled by wins and losses, and the same can be said for the greats before us, yours can… yours has. You have a future outside of this. You’ve made your money and could probably never have to work another day in your life. In your town, you’re revered as a hero who came from the streets hustling and climbed his way to a superstar. You’re not the kind of man to burn out; you’re the kind of man who goes out at his best. It’s like… did you hear Jay Z’s new record?


EBR: Yeah, why?


Sean: Before he put out Kingdom Come, he was revered as possibly the greatest of all time. He was admired by all rappers and fans alike. Now once he’s come back and left himself vulnerable to criticism, the backlash has been immense. Fans and rappers alike have criticized, mocked, and called him out. You’re in that same position E. You came back, you left yourself open to the public once again, and now you have these meager nobodies, these CBTs and Kurt Burtons calling you out trying to make their name at your expense. It’s your choice to listen to it, or accept it for what it truly is.


{EBR gives a puzzled stare as Sean pauses to flick his cigarette butt into the darkness.}


Sean: Bullcrap. It’s all bullcrap. That’s why our revolution can never work. Ideally, it’s perfect, but it’ll suffer the same fate that the work Raider and Shape did to save the company in 2002, that Dazz did in 2004, that we’re doing now. Eventually it all goes to crap. We may have saved the WFWF and given them… a year, tops, of success, but eventually guys like Johnny Michaels come along and things up.


EBR: Be that as it may, you need to think about something. You need to consider Calvin. This might all work for us, hell I know I can go on without you and you can definitely go on without me, but Calvin needs us.


Sean: Truthfully… All we can really do for Calvin is serve as a platform for when he does what… well, eventually he’ll have to do.


EBR: What’s that supposed to mean?


Sean: Eventually Calvin will do what Mikael did, what you did, what DGX did, hell what I did. Eventually he will feel the need to make his own name at the expense of another. Once that day comes, he will do what he has to do to accomplish that.


EBR: Are you saying that we… I shouldn’t trust Calvin?


Sean: I’m saying that when the time comes, you’ll be left with the choice to forgive him for his actions and allow him his chance to shine, or utilize his actions to benefit yourself.


EBR: And which is the right choice?


Sean: I couldn’t tell you, to be honest. All I can say is that whichever choice you make will leave you to bear with the consequences for the rest of your life.


{With his last word, the image of Alex Sean’s faint silhouette fades into complete blackness as his voice echoes throughout EBR’s ears.}

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Chapter 1 – An Inconvenient Truth

November 11th, 2006

{EBR stands on the outside of CBT’s office, straightening the collar on his light blue shirt as he lightly knocks on the door. He slowly opens it after a brief pause, quickly discovering CBT, feet on his desk, talking on the phone…

….He knew EBR was coming. EBR begins to wonder why CBT would schedule a 2:00 PM meeting and seemingly go out of his way to ignore him, but he’s never been the best at deciphering people’s actions, no matter how strange and contrived they appear to be.}

CBT: {Motioning for EBR to sit down}…Yeah, yeah…I know we have to start making budget cuts, but that would require a long, ardible process...

{Ardible. EBR knows CBT meant arduous, but either he lacks the education or political experience to know the difference. In fact, he's pretty sure ardible isn't a word, and for a brief moment EBR wonders if the person on the other line caught his mistake. In which case, either the person on the other line is too sympathetic to point it out, judging from the gleeful nature of CBT's disposition...}

CBT: {CBT Chuckles} Oh of course, of course, for sure! But hey I'm gonna have to le... well about that see...

{... Or the person on the other line has had enough experience to know how to play inexperienced promoters. EBR imagines being in that position, knowing what he knows now, and nods his head in assurance of his clear superior wisdom to that of CBT's. With that EBR sits down, beginning to notice his surroundings. It has all the obvious young promoter-isms you'd expect; a desk cut of the "finest" mahogany, at least that's what the person who sold it to CBT probably said. Along the walls are framed posters of various WFWF events, all carefully with CBT's face in the center or near-center as well as pictures of himself shaking hands with celebrities, rock stars, and famous wrestlers, perhaps to impress someone to think of him in comparison to the people he is photographed with. Various papers and memos, already signed and sealed by WFWF execs but spread about his desk to give the impression of a long, hard day in the office. Around the edge of the desk, where CBT's feet lay, there is a large, LCD monitor glowing from recent activity. Anybody who didn't know the difference between one promoter and the next would assume that this computer contains highly important and classified files, but more than likely, judging from the off-green hue it illuminates, is mostly used for computer Solitaire. It's all too familiar to EBR. He's been at that desk, maybe not the same one, but certainly one just like it. He's had the office with posters and pictures and memos on the desk. In fact, the only thing stopping EBR from calling CBT on his card game is an unspoken code between promoters to never call one's bluff on the matter, call it a matter of allowing oneself to preserve dignity.}

CBT: Yes, but maybe you're right. I think it will be worth the long and arduous process. {CBT responsively laughs} No I see entirely what you're saying, entirely.

{EBR notices his change of vocabulary; maybe he did call him on it. Or maybe CBT caught it himself during the conversation and wanted to make it seem like his grammatical error never occurred. Then again, EBR isn't even entirely sure there's actually another person on the phone in the first place. He doesn't recall hearing anything from the other line before entering the office, and doesn't recall CBT saying much before he walked in. This seems to him like a typical, shallow, power-play tactics to make wrestlers feel unimportant and insignificant; pretend to be having the "important conversation" on the phone, almost to the point of resolution. Then, once you've been there for a minute or two, wrap up with a "I'd love to talk now, but EBR is sitting here..." and leave you with the slight feeling of shame of interrupting something more important than what you have to talk about. This, however, seems too shallow for even CBT in EBR's eyes.}

CBT: Well I'd love to talk now, but EBR is sitting here and we have a meeting. Alright, thanks... yeah, bye.

{As CBT hangs up the phone, the sight of a drinking bird on the edge of his desk quickly draws EBR’s attention. This does not go unnoticed by CBT.}

CBT: You like it? It goes up and down and drinks the water!

EBR: Yeah, I’ve seen that episode of The Simpsons…

CBT: You know, this bird kind of resembles my meteoric wise to WFWF owner? It’s actually a long and interesting story.

EBR: Oh…I’d love to hear it.

{He’s lying. No one would want to.}

CBT: Well, I actually called you in for a specific reason, so maybe we can discuss it some other time?

{EBR dodged a bullet.}

CBT: Before I go on however, I feel the need to quickly address some things. First, I would like to congratulate you on what’s thus far a very impressive return. You’ve looked good out there, I’ll tell you that much. Of course, not as good as you once looked, but that comes with age doesn’t it?

EBR: I dunno, I’m only 27-

CBT: I mean, I remember watching several of your classics back in the day. Each one stole the show. You were something special.

EBR: You remember the “EBR Emporium”?

CBT: Yeah. That was a great move.

{EBR stares blankly at CBT, wanting to call him on his ignorance, but decides to continue.}

EBR:...Well then, of course you recall my epic and legendary matches with Raider, The Shape, and Frost?

CBT: Who doesn’t? Hell, I watched you vs. Raider just last week.

{It’s a struggle for EBR not to acknowledge that none of those matches occurred.}

CBT: Me and you are a lot alike, Eric..-I can call you Eric, right?

{In five years no one has ever called EBR by his real name. The fact that it’s someone he doesn’t know or like is just the icing on the cake.}

EBR: Of course.

CBT: We both strive to be the best. We both live with the chip on our shoulders, that chips that tell us to succeed over everyone else, the chips that…

{As he begins a long and monotonous speech that is now associated with CBT, EBR begins to wonder what is that truly lead him here. It was just two weeks ago. EBR and Alex Sean; the Anointed. Everything was coming into fruition. They were on their quest, their mission to improve the WFWF. To bring the WFWF back to the stability. It was simple really. First act, exposing the Total Apocalypses of the world; the men who leave and return simply for fame and the one last grasp at the success they already left. Second act, by defeating..no..humiliating the Revolutions of the world; the mediocre rookies who claim to be the best, who challenge far superior individuals. Then when push comes to shove, they get beaten in mere minutes with ease. Of course, three years ago EBR fell into both categories. But see, that was different. He was young, naïve, unaware of how the business of the WFWF works. If there was anyone to help EBR, to guide him, he would never have become the man he did. There would be no cheap shots, no cocky guarantees, no egotistical talk shows. But he learned a long time ago you can’t change the past. The reputation will always stay with you, no matter what you do from then on, good or bad. So EBR returns, not to put himself over, not for fame, not to be remembered, but to guide. But no one would listen.

From day one the Anointed was the black eye of the WFWF. Sure, maybe Alex Sean and Calvin Lee were deserving of such backlash, but how does EBR fit into that? What did he ever do wrong? Maybe he attacked Master of Destruction. But so what? No one liked Master of Destruction anyways. Well, until a group lead by Alex Sean got to him and he became the lesser of two evils. But anything can be spun around to make someone with a questionable past look bad. Do they tell you it wasn’t personal? Do they tell you he apologized? No. It’s convenient for EBR to be the bad guy. It’s what the WFWF wants him to be.}

CBT:…Regardless, that’s not why I called you in. With the sudden, and quite frankly {rolls eyes} immature departure of Alex Sean, you’ll agree that we now have some issues regarding the Tag Team Titles that you wear around your waist.

EBR: Well, I figure we could just give the second one to Calvin Lee. Logically, it’d make sense.

CBT: Actually, Reverend Shadow and I decided that the Tag Team Titles will be retired due to inactivity within the division.

EBR:…Oh.

CBT: See, the Tag Team Titles were once a glorious thing of the past. Los Hobos, Holocaust, UIA, the Masters of Execution. The list goes on. But now? The Revolution are surely rising stars, but c’mon, the Anointed? I mean this with the most respect, but it’s not exactly “must see” wrestling. Let’s put it in perspective. At Superbrawl while I was putting out a Match of the Year candidate with a member of the Hall of Fame, you and Alex were facing MOD and Total Apocalypse, rehashing old issues that really, have no place in today’s WFWF. The WFWF is about the future of wrestling. It’s about guys who have adapted to the current, fast paced style which the WFWF became. Guys like me. Now, I’m not saying there’s no place for you in the WFWF, but there’s no place for a stable like the Anointed. Alex Sean? {Taps chest} I beat him. I’m sure you understand my point.

{This said point flies over EBR’s head. What was it anyways? That the Tag Team Titles are retired? That the WFWF through its mediocre years of 2004 and 2005 were somehow better? That he can sit there and indirectly bash and mock EBR? That he beat Alex Sean? None of it’s exactly clear.}

EBR: Well, I understand what you’re saying…kind of, but why retire them now and not two weeks ago? I understand you just became the owner, but everything regarding the Tag Team division was fine. It just seems kind of, I dunno, out of the blue to scrap them with no precedent.

CBT: Well, we both know you’re only saying that because you’re a little mad that your title is getting retired. But don’t worry; I have big plans for you. Just watch Felo-De-Se. I think you can once again be a name in the WFWF, you just have to start doing things a different way. Just need to adjust. That’s not me being condescending, it’s just the truth. See, it’s not easy being owner. I have these priorities I never dreamed I…

{Who the hell is CBT to be talking shit? What the fuck has he ever done? He calls EBR in here and specifically begins talking down to him, at the same time praising him? Is this not the same guy who along with Reverend Shadow was calling the Anointed out a week ago? Nice logic, asshole. Oh, but he’s owner now. Suddenly he’s better than he used to be. Suddenly his word means more. No, it means nothing. CBT means nothing. CBT IS nothing. He sucks. His office sucks. His friends suck. His mom sucks. The name Felo-De-Se sucks. The Tag Team Titles suck. EBR doesn’t even want them; they’re worthless to him. He only took them to humble the Revolution. But it’s the principle. It’s his. Until now, apparently.}

CBT:…A great man once said, with great power comes great responsibility…

{Is he still going on? What the fuck is he even talking about? Does he just get off hearing himself speak? In two minutes he’ll bust in his pants.}

CBT:…So, you can understand where I’m coming with this, I hope?

{No response.}

CBT: Anyways, I’m a busy man, so I believe we should be wrapping up. {He stands up} I‘d like to thank you for coming…{Extends hand} And I hope there’s no hard feelings.

{Now’s EBR’s chance. Tell him how he really feels.}

EBR: Um…{Biting his tongue, figuratively}…no, of course not. {They shake hands as EBR swallows his pride and dignity} You’re just looking out for the WFWF’s best interest, I understand.

{Pussy.}

CBT: Good luck in your match tonight. You might need it; after all, Kurt Burton is a rising star. He can only go up. While you? You’re already at the top, in your own mind at least. You can only go down. I’ll see you later, Eric.

{Ungraciously, EBR is shown the door. As he walks out, he wonders how he got here. This isn’t why he came back. To be talked down to by a caricature of a man. Three years ago he would of chewed CBT’s head off; probably reduced him to tears, if not pitiful whimpers. But now? That wasn’t a meeting. That was a verbal molestation by someone less superior. The WFWF is going down the drain quicker than he thought. But what’s the point of trying to save it? Incompetence kills. The WFWF is dying. But that’s not him being condescending. That’s the truth.}

[sonstuds]

Chapter 2 – Isolation

December 20th, 2006 (Crimson Existence)

{He sits on the deserted locker room bench, hands on his knees, staring at the ground. There’s no attire, no bags, no match. No reason to be here. With the lights off it creates a relaxed atmosphere for majority of the WFWF roster. For a man in EBR’s situation it only adds to his depressed workplace life. Every week he travels to Felo-De-Se; by himself, of course. No one in the WFWF wants anything to do with him. When he walks in the halls he receives nothing but stares; unless they look away. To them, he’s the villain.

Now, this never bothered him in the Anointed days. Well, it barely bothers him now. He’s accepted where he stands in the WFWF social circle. It’s funny. You can go through the WFWF roster and the outcast is, of all people, EBR; the only “normal” one there. Maybe that’s the difference between then and now. In 2003 he was a character whose strings could be pulled for the sake of marketing and promoting. He acted like the current WFWF. Maybe it’s a good thing no one hangs around him. From a distance he can handle the fact that these fools he sees every week are mirror images of what he used to be. Maybe EBR IS too old for this shit.

He watches Felo-De-Se and sees these people that are, apparently, his peers. It’s embarrassing. It’s at those moments he’s glad has no friends here. He wouldn’t be able to carry on a conversation with them anyway. What would they even have in common? He sometimes wonders if maybe it is just him. Maybe he truly is the outcast. Maybe everyone’s normal but him. Regardless, the point is moot. None of it matters. The WFWF is trying to drive him out anyways; the same way they successfully drove Alex Sean out.

It all makes sense. Every point lines into place. The Tag Team Titles were mercilessly scrapped. He knows it was a personal vendetta. He’s supposed to forget when the Higher Authority called him out? And when they conveniently were named owners the following week? It’s not a conspiracy though; a conspiracy would require at least an effort that they’re trying to hide it.

And look where EBR is. Some run of the mill locker room for the wrestlers no one cares about. It doesn’t get past EBR that he’s the only one in here. Two months ago the Anointed had their own locker room; albeit, spelt wrong. Then again, no one will go in the same room as him anyways, so by all technical standards it is his locker room. They could at least write “EBR” on the door.

At that point, former Anointed member Calvin Lee walks in. His sly smile causes an immediate conflict with the somber mood in EBR’s locker room.}

Calvin Lee: {Giving daps} Man, this is gonna be a great night for me. I finally get my chance to do something in the WFWF. I mean, all I wanted was a chance and I got it. It’s pretty cool, man. I gotta tell ‘ya, CBT and Reverend Shadow are really fair owners. I mean, I had my doubts but they’re not ignoring me like Kyzer and Drakz.

EBR: Well, I guess they’re fair for your kind…

Calvin Lee: Huh?

EBR: Nothing. I’m just rambling.

Calvin Lee: I can definitely be something. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I win the Heavyweight Championship. My potential is through the…

{EBR stares through Calvin Lee. The Anointed means nothing now. The Anointed was Alex Sean and EBR. They were revolutionizing the WFWF, not Calvin. What did Calvin even know about it? What does he even know now? Someone who complains about never getting opportunities he never deserved now has the nerve to talk about rebuilding the WFWF? EBR and Calvin aren’t the same. They obviously never were. Calvin was just riding the Anointed’s coat tails, capitalizing off of everything EBR was rebuilding. It’s sickening. He’s a leach. Calvin Lee is the WFWF. He’s just as bad as everyone else.

At the same time, EBR is stuck with him. He understands what the Anointed did to Calvin; it ruined his career for the short term. Just as secluded as EBR is Calvin Lee. No one talks to him either. The only difference is it doesn’t bother Calvin. Calvin’s too young to understand the nature of the WFWF. He thinks it’s cool that he has an intimidating presence. The only problem? That image was created by Alex Sean, not Calvin Lee. If EBR up and leaves, where does that leave Calvin? He’ll have no mentor, no association, nothing. EBR is stuck with him}

Calvin Lee:…And it all starts with Obo. He’s a bit of a ghoul, eh?

EBR: I dunno, I don’t watch his stuff.

Calvin Lee: It’s pretty weird. He always talk in all these dark places and shit…{He observes the lighting}…anyways, I just wanted to make sure you’d be in my corner tonight? I just want back-up, you know? Obo might try and pull out a knife or something. That motherfucker’s crazy.

EBR: Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.

Calvin Lee: Alright, cool. Anyways, I’ll see you out there, later man.

{He walks out as EBR resumes to staring at the ground. He knows Calvin won’t win. He was a last minute replacement; it was EBR’s spot. It was CBT’s way of “rewarding” him. Unfortunately, CBT has bad comprehension skills. EBR’s entire purpose was to bring the WFWF back to its glorious days. He knows the WFWF needs a champion that the company can be proud of. Someone who can be consistent. Someone, who despite hated, is respected. That someone is not EBR. And to think they called him biased. He drops out for the sake of the WFWF, but what does it get him other than the “quitter” label?

He stopped getting matches as well. To be fair, that was mutual. EBR has nothing left to prove. He already has a legacy. So what if he lost his reputation, respect, and dignity? No one else matters. It’s not like anyone even thinks about him. He’s nothing more than an after thought. Yet, he still shows up every week. But for what? He doesn’t want to be here. He sighs when he walks into the arena. Just thinking about the WFWF is depressing to him. For everyone else it’s their life, or at least a part of it. For EBR it’s a job. A job he hates.

So why does he do it? Even he doesn’t know. He tries not to think about things he dislikes. But right now, for whatever reason, he has to. You can’t suppress feelings forever. All it takes is one more walk down the hallway. One more drive to the hotel. Then it’s over. Then it’s done. He can carry on with his life.

But it’s not that easy. You can just walk away from your problems.

But the door IS right there…

Returning was a mistake. He should have never done it. Nothing good came from it. If he leaves he’ll be forgotten. There’s nothing that links him to it anymore. His Tag Title is retired. There’s no real evidence he’s even been in the WFWF since the beginnings of November. There’s nothing that makes him want to stay. Nothing that needs him to stay. Nothing. No one would notice if he left. He could leave right now, and in three days his entire return will be completely forgotten. In time, EBR will probably forget too.

That the door isn’t going to open itself…

The urge increases, to the point where he uncontrollably stands. Screw it, he’s already up. He opens the door and walks out of the room. For the first time in months, it’s the only decision he’s sure of.

The WFWF just isn’t for him. At least not anymore.}

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Chapter 3 – Moment of Clarity

April 21st, 2007

{Cypress Hill is blaring throughout the house as the party commences. It has every stereotypical attribute that’s to be expected from this setting, really. Cue to the multiple conversations from the various groups of people that, along with the music, make it nearly impossible to even hear what they’re initially talking about. The use and consumption of alcohol and cigarettes are of course present. The cigarettes smoke combines with the dimmed lighting, creating a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere. The humorous observation is the keg placed in the middle of the living room. EBR leans against the dark beige wall, not by choice, but because the sheer amount of people make it nearly impossible for him to move. He watches people fill their small, red plastic cups. It doesn’t go unnoticed that for the most part, it’s the same three or four people. That’s why EBR just grabbed a bottle out of the fridge. He knows the guy who’s throwing this, so why not? Besides, he doesn’t have the time to continually go back to the well, so to speak. Looking around, EBR realizes just how plain the house would be on any other day. He’s been here before, so he realizes every item that would normally be hung on the walls has been removed and hidden. Very clever.

A group of three walk past EBR, receiving the unspoken head nods that signify “hey” to people he doesn’t actually want to talk to. He surveys around. He’s fucked a lot of girls here. He wonders if they remember. He hopes they don’t. It’d be nothing but awkward. He’s probably disappointed most of them, but why does he care? He had a good time, so screw anything they didn’t feel. EBR drinks as a man with a medium build approaches him, hitting him on the back in a friendly manner. EBR has no idea who he is, better yet, if he even knows him. Is he supposed to? EBR tries to play it smoothly.}

EBR:…Hi.

Man: Hey man, I’m Jeff, what’s up?

{This is a tough situation. Bringing up his name implies that E doesn’t know him, yet this man specifies some familiarity. At the same time, no one begins a conversation with someone they don’t know by mentioning their name. Did he say “I’m Jeff” or “It’s Jeff”? That would make the all the difference. It could be someone EBR knows who just had plastic surgery, but he tries not to associate with the vain. Surprisingly needy. EBR now has to play the cards on whether or not Jeff is a previous acquaintance.}

EBR: Nothing…uh…you?

Man: Yo, I just want to say that I’m a big fan of what you do.

{Alright, he’s a customer. That should make things easier.}

EBR: Well, I have some in my car if you wanted to buy any-

Man: {Squint} I’m talking about your work as a wrestler.

{The kind thing would have been to mention that from the beginning. Prick.}

EBR: Alright, cool, cool…

{EBR reluctantly offers his hand, which is of course shaken. He doesn’t want to talk to him, especially about something as trivial and behind him as the WFWF. EBR doesn’t keep up with it. He doesn’t care. Why even bring it up to someone who’s been AWOL since December? If anything, “Jeff” is a pretentious asshole. Who just randomly starts a conversation with someone they don’t know? EBR shouldn’t have admitted to being a former wrestler. Well, he never did it. Maybe it’s not too late to say he’s not?

Nah, that boat already sailed. EBR already knows where this is gonna go. “Hey, I just wanted to talk to you about the WFWF…”. No motherfucker, he’s not gonna talk about it. The world doesn’t revolve around “Jeff”. What an egotistical douche bag. Maybe E could just walk away? But right in the middle of a conversation? E can’t do that. Damn, why does he have to be so polite? At this point, Jeff is just looking at EBR. E knows a conversation is coming. Fuck, he’s just gonna have to stand there and pretend to care.}

Jeff: Anyways, I just wanted to talk to you about the WFWF. Are you still in it or something?

EBR: No, but I still get my pay check every week.

{He seriously does. It’s awesome.}

Jeff: See, I was just casually watching it one week, and I found out you have a match in like a week.

EBR:…Oh.

{Shit…they really didn’t notice he left.}

EBR:…Who am I facing?

Jeff: Calvin Lee.

EBR: Hmm…good luck to him, I guess.

Jeff: So are you actually gonna show up?

EBR: I left the WFWF like six months ago. They can’t just book me in some random match and expect me to come. Man, what kind of company are they?

{A company still run by CBT, evidently.}

Jeff: Well, it’s not really random. Calvin’s been calling you out for a month or so.

{Like anything Calvin says is ever gonna bother EBR.}

Jeff: He’s been calling you a liar, a back stabber, called you gay-

EBR: Wait, what?

Jeff: Yeah, he said he’s never seen you with a girl or anything.

{That motherfucker. Where does he get off saying that? His name is Calvin; he can’t talk shit about anyone.}

EBR: Well, let me tell you something. Back when we were in the Anointed, right? After me and Alex beat Master of Destruction and Total Apocalypse? He offered to blow me right there.

Jeff: Shit, really?

EBR: Yeah man, no lie. He was all like “hey E, it’d be a real honor”, but I was like “I don’t swing this way man, not to mention this is far from appropriate”.

Jeff: Sounds like he has a pretty low self-esteem…

EBR: Besides, let me ask you something. He used to be associated with a bunch of guys, right? Who does he hang out with now?

Jeff: Let me think …{Snaps finger} Luther Castle.

{Who?}

EBR: Who?

Jeff: Dunno.

EBR: So, he’s still hanging around with a guy, right?

{Both begin nodding in agreement, realizing exactly where EBR is going.}

EBR: Trust me, Calvin sucks a lot of cock.

{Of course, there’s no prior knowledge of this, or any evidence that can support this, but once again, fuck Calvin Lee.}

EBR: Speaking of, has Calvin even won any matches lately? I remember in the Anointed days he lost just about every week. Kind of killed our entire buzz, but I never wanted to say anything to him. Plus what would I say anyways? “Hey Calvin, stop sucking”…{Realizing} no pun intended…

Jeff: Well, he lost to a girl not too long ago.

EBR: Hah, he was probably hard while wrestling her.

Jeff: I thought you said he was gay?

EBR: Dude, which one of us actually knows him?

Jeff: Sorry…sorry…{Cocks eye}

EBR: Anyways, what’s actually going on with the WFWF, just for curiosity’s sake?

{What? He doesn’t actually care, he’s just being polite, remember?}

Jeff: Well, Reverend Shadow is the Champ…

{Big surprise; an owner holding the World Championship. It’s not like that’s shady or anything.}

Jeff: He’s facing Obo. There’s some personal history between them. All I really remember is Shadow pushing Obo’s daughter on a swing set. Kind of weird…

EBR:...Did it end with Chris Hansen walking into the backyard?

Jeff: Let’s see, what else…CBT turned out to be the guy that attacked Wayne McGurk.

{EBR didn’t know Wayne McGurk was attacked. Really, he’s not sure he even remembers who Wayne McGurk is.}

Jeff: Uh…the Revolution are the Tag Champs-

EBR: Wait, what…?

Jeff: Yeah, the Tag Titles were brought back and the Revolution won them again.

{Words cannot describe EBR’s unforeseen anger at this point. Luckily, he doesn’t care about the WFWF anymore so none of this is really a concern.}

EBR: Do they still do crap that makes you wonder if they’re…I dunno…mentally incapable?

Jeff: They beat up a punching bag with a clown face on it.

EBR: Ah…

Jeff: Yeah…

{At this point EBR unintentionally, but fortunately, locks Jeff into an awkward position. There’s no where to go with this subject matter. In order for this conversation to continue Jeff will have to abruptly jump into a different topic, which he can’t do because he has far too much pride. He can’t make it look like this is the highlight of his night, right in front of someone he claims to be a fan of. He’d look petty. While, maybe not to most people, but EBR’s a bit of an assshole. But really, he shouldn’t have any fans anyways. He hasn’t done anything productive inside of the WFWF in months. Some people need to learn to get over it. EBR did. You got what you deserved, Jeff. Fuck you.}

Jeff: Well, I actually have places to be, so I’ll see you later, buddy.

{Jeff slaps EBR on the back and leaves. They probably will see each other again, possibly ten minutes from now. Of course, neither will say anything to one another, they’ll just briefly stare. Jeff’s in that vulnerable position now. EBR could just walk up to him and ask where it was he was supposed to be. Jeff would either have to lie, or try to carry on the conversation that he now wants no part in. Of course, EBR wouldn’t say anything; no reasonable person would. But Jeff doesn’t know that, and that’s the fun of it all.

EBR wonders around the room, unwittingly walking into people, before resting on an unoccupied red couch. He sits there for several minutes, drinking his beer while staring at the ground. He doesn’t care, but he can’t help but wonder about the current happenings of the WFWF. It’s all bullshit. Retire his Tag Team Titles, than bring them back once he’s gone for good and can never formally complain about it? It was personal. Label him as a deviant to the WFWF because he attacks someone, but have an owner do the same thing? It was personal. Book EBR in a match on show in which he doesn’t even know the name, in hopes of getting a fellow wrestler over while driving EBR’s name further into the ground on the basis that he won’t show up? It is personal. Whatever. None of this means anything. It’s all water under the bridge anyways. EBR won’t show up. EBR doesn’t care. He’s done with the WFWF. This all rolls off EBR’s back.










Man, fuck Calvin Lee! Who does he think he is? Calling someone out who’s clearly better than him in every which way. Fuck the Revolution. It’s not their Tag Team Titles. Did they ever beat EBR and Alex Sean? No, and they never will. Fuck the WFWF. Booking with no confirmation; not even a phone call. And for what? To benefit Calvin Lee of all people? And why is EBR continually being mentioned anyways? They were the ones who wanted him to leave. Then when he does, they slander his once good name when has no means to defend himself?

EBR can’t let this go on anymore. He can’t just sit here and know this shit is happening. He can’t allow this disrespect to continue. He needs to correct these wrongs.

He needs to fix the WFWF. Again.}

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

{The sound of silence and the uncomfortable nature it presents. The uneasiness of this situation is existing. It’s startling, and to some extents, chilling. EBR sits on a black leather couch in the centre of view. It’s his house, but not the way it’s remembered. The dark red walls, filled with its St. Louis sports memorabilia no longer represent the appearance of remembrance, but the state of someone who’s still clinging onto the glory days that have long past. This house is cold. How anyone could live here, in this state, is beyond comprehension. It occupies a period of life that no would want to relive. The casual observer, whose first venture into this territory can see it. Only a blind eye can’t. It doesn’t represent happiness, not even wealth. It’s nothing but a home for a man who was at one time unfulfilled, possibly insecure. He needs to move on. This doesn’t fit him, at least not anymore. EBR proceeds to sit for several moments, allowing this environment to soak in. On most occasions, he’d try and hide it. Deny everything it represents. Not anymore. He’s found his peace. He is moving on. Finally, EBR begins to speak.}

EBR: It’s really sad how it’s turned to this, Calvin. Normally, I’m not a man who would ever knock someone for their attempts to elevate themselves at the expense of another. But see, this is a little bit different. Unlike the majority, you don’t have the courage to actually confront your {finger quotes} “rival”. Instead, you choose to go out there and make a name for yourself by slandering someone else’s, all while this said individual is already three months into his retirement. Pathetic.

It’s unfortunate, really. I suppose I failed in attempting to raise your stock. You were associated with two members of the Hall of Fame. You had every opportunity to learn how to be successful. It was all right in front of you, but somehow, you found ways to screw it up. While Alex Sean and I were defeating Master of Destruction and Total Apocalypse, you were losing. While Alex Sean and I were successfully winning the Tag Team Titles, you were losing. While I was defeating, at the very least, established members of the WFWF like Kurt Burton, you were losing. I always wondered why the Anointed never got the respect that I thought it deserved. But now, I can simply look back, or more specifically, look at you and realize where that stems from.

Frankly, I’m kind of confused as to where you get off thinking you’re this big deal in the WFWF. Furthermore, I’m lost as to how people are apparently buying into it. Maybe they forgot about your history. Evidently, you must have. Allow me to play the role of spoiler and go in depth on your entire WFWF tenure. You debut in 2006, and proceed to do nothing. In June of that year, you join Alex Sean’s coveted and established reincarnation of the Anointed. You do nothing. Alex Sean and I leave in that same year. You go in limbo and vacate for two months. You return and create a partnership with the only man in the history of the WFWF who’s somehow less successful and more unknown than you. {Smirks} How impressive.

I was offended when I heard what you’ve been saying about me. Let’s put things in perspective; you’re Calvin Lee. You guarantee a win every match. You’ve backed it up, what? Maybe three times in your career? Maybe you should set your expectations a little lower before you begin saying anything derogatory towards me, especially when the experience of winning is a new sensation for you. Calvin, I say this with the up most honesty. You were nothing before me, you were nothing with me, and you’re nothing after me. Just give up before you continue to embarrass yourself.

I sit here and wonder why you chose to call me out the way you did. I’ve just accepted it’s the fact you’re fake. You go out there and introduce this malicious image of a man who has nothing but disrespect and hatred for his former, in your words, friend. Yet, all you do is trash talk and spread rumors like the little prepubescent girl you are. You know where I live; why not just say it to my face? Let’s be honest, this entire appearance you’ve created for yourself is nothing but a mirage. You’re still dangling from my dick like you were seven months ago. You’ll never change.

The funny thing? Everything you say is a lie. That’s the icing on the cake, really. You complain about how I ditched you and stunted your growth as an established member of the WFWF? Strange, you never called me when I left. In fact, you seemed quite content with making your run as the lone wolf of the WFWF. Well, until you realized you couldn’t win a match. I guess hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, isn’t it, Calvin? Besides, if not for you I would have left the WFWF far sooner than I did. Don’t ever question my support, you ungrateful piece of garbage.

It’s too bad this is what you’ve become. I didn’t want you to fail. Selfishly, that’s just for my name sake. See, when you go out there and continue your legacy of mediocrity, it’s now a representation of me. I was supposed to help build this successful man who would go onto become one of the best in the history of the WFWF. {Smiling} I guess you never needed to insult me; your own résumé of work does that for you.

This is where it ends, Calvin. I wouldn’t be surprised if through everything you fueled and started that you were banking on me not showing up. I wouldn’t blame you. I know you can’t beat me. Everyone does. Hell, you know you can’t beat me. You’ve seen my past work. You probably researched it when you found out I was joining the Anointed; after all, I was your idol. You, more than anyone, would know that I’ve never faced anyone who’s been as over hyped, overrated, and generally unsuccessful as you.

Calvin, I really can’t put it any simpler than this. I’m a veteran, you’re not. I’m successful, you’re not. I’m a Hall of Famer, you’re not. I’m a winner, you’re not. Until you become any of those? Keep my name out of your mouth, you overzealous twit.

{With that, the image of EBR fades.}

[sonstuds]

It's a novel, mofos.

[Yukio Blaze]

Damn E, this is the longest rp that I've read in a long time and bawh gawd, it was excellent. It was a all around awesome rp and it flowed really good.


Good luck to you EBR.

[jesterslaugh]

Damn.

This is amazing.

I don't really have much else to say about it.

[CBT]

Very impressive E, I thought you had a nice slow start, well executed beginning. Alex Sean's lost ramblings actually lead to something. That's either a first or second in WFWF history. Not due to Sean, but rather the ramblings leading to a greater good.
The overall premis was well done, I think you and Obo both put out a great multi-dimensional roleplays. Well written, glad to see you played for keeps. good job man

[Calvin]

that's crazy crap......even if I rped you would have still beat me...but I would have wanted to rp. I hate that what happened happened. After reading this it kinda pisses me off al ot that I couldn't rp...damn

[cureforthesickness]

you're a madman, man.. It's this kind of stuff that I absolutely love, where the roleplay has no particular direction, just kind of sprays venom in every direction. the rant about Calvin being gay was great. The line about me being a "crazy mother er" who might pull a knife or something is hilarious, because I actually had the idea to use a knife in the Rev/Obo match, but scrapped it.