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He's tried to time this just right. It's before the 'preview' show starts, so the camera's aren't shooting the 'fake' arrivals. Most talent arrived a couple of hours ago. Knowing Merritt, he'll face a fine for being late. It's better than facing a camera crew. At this point, it might be more than he can take. Having stopped the car, the driver quickly exits and heads to the trunk to get the passenger's bag. It gives him even more time to reflect. FISH FUND has never been good to him. Even before the tragic events after FISH FUND XII, there was the ill-fated match against GUNS. And at FISH FUND X, there was the IRONMAN, and the... ill-fated match against GUNS. FISH FUND IX, he was attacked by Zack Sirus just before the Final Four of the Unified World Tournament, making him unable to compete and defend his title. And on...and on...and on... Needless to say, this event has never been his favorite. The driver pulls the bag out of the trunk and walks to open the passenger's door. Sunglasses firmly in place, he steps out of the car and accepts the bag from the driver. Tossing the bag over his shoulder, he walks towards the stage door, approximately 100 feet away. It's possible the longest short walk of his career. It's almost the same distance from the ramp to the ring. But he has never been so gripped by emotion on his way down to the ring. He's never felt the wave of nausea, the grip of... fear. A sign on one side of the door advises that all persons and bags are subject to search. A plaque on the other side points attention to a discolored set of bricks, apparently part of the original arena wall. A score mark has colored part of one of the bricks black. The bag falls from his shoulder, and he almost doubles over as it comes back. The smell of smoke, the flashing lights of sirens, the sounds of wailing sirens and screaming people. The weight of twisted metal and stone fragments. Teri Melton's screams for Timmy. Buckley's yell for help. The door opens as he stops a few steps away. What do you know? It's a CSWA camera crew. The young producer approaches him, while the cameraman stays back, inside the door. PRODUCER: Mr. Hornet, could you go back to the car and walk back toward us? We'd like to get a piece for the preview... HORNET: Not now... PRODUCER: But this is important... we just need... HEY! Hornet palms the producer's head and shoves him into the wall on the other side of the door. The man hits the wall and slumps to the ground holding his head. Hornet stops momentarily with both hands on the doorframe, then walks through. CAMERAMAN: Welcome back, Hornet. HORNET: Thanks, Bob. CAMERAMAN: It's been a long time since we've all been here. HORNET: Yeah, yeah it has. CAMERAMAN: Good luck, tonight. HORNET: Thanks, Bob. You too. (Hornet starts to walk away.) CAMERAMAN: Hornet? HORNET: (not looking back) Yeah, Bob? CAMERAMAN: It's gonna be alright. HORNET: Thanks Bob. He wishes he could believe that. As Hornet continues walking, he's assailed by CSWA staffers and a road agent. He's finally pointed towards a dressing room a couple of halls over. He slams the door behind him and sits down hard in a white plastic chair. Sweat trails down one side of his forehead from his hairline as he stares into the mirror. HORNET: Gonna be alright? At least it can't be worst than last time, can it? He begins to laugh. The noise echoes off the clean, new drywall. (Backstage. The arena door opens, as the camera slowly pans in on the individuals entering from the bottom up. The first figure, was a man, wearing comfortable Black & White "air Walk" tennis shoes... Blue Jeans... and a sleeveless, partially ripped in the front, "‘Till I Collapse" t-shirt, with his photo on the front. As the camera zooms in on his face, the crowd reacts with an enormous ovation. ...it’s Sean "Triple X" Stevens... and the short, thin, blonde to his left, in the "Team Extreme" long sleeve shirt, skirt, and fishnets... is Ivy McGinnis - better known as Poison Ivy - his girlfriend. They both enter the arena, stopping momentarily as Ivy looks down at the little piece of paper handed to her by the guard at the entrance.) POISON IVY: I think the dressing room is (motions with her right hand in the opposite direction) around the corner on this floor. But, I’m gonna go see if I can find Rudy, you coming with? STEVENS: Nah... And, I’d appreciate it if you weren’t going either. I wasn’t just talking for my health back there in the car, Ivy. I really, REALLY have a sneaky suspicion that more (bleep) bound to go down tonight than we know. Last thing I need is Dan Ryan or some GXW thug putting there hands on you. POISON IVY (Frowning): Sean... How many times do I have to tell you to focus on your match? I’ll be fine. (Stevens shook his head.) STEVENS: I know you’re tough. All I’m saying is... Ryan has made his intentions clear. He knows you’re my only weakness. He also knows what I’m capable of, and that unless he finds my weakness and exploits it... He has no chance. That man is desperate, and desperate men do desperate things. You should know that... (Ivy throws her hands in the air, in submission. She is clearly beginning to show signs of anger.) POISON IVY: Fine Sean! You wanna protect me like some eight year old, fine! You wanna lock me in the dressing room so I can rot like some seventy- five year old Hermit? All because you don’t believe me when I say I can handle myself? Fine! Let’s go master!! (Ivy begins storming down the hall toward the dressing room. Sean, however, just stands there, hands on hips.) STEVENS: Ivy wait! ...you know I didn’t mean tha– (She turns around.) POISON IVY: Then what DID you mean, Sean? STEVENS: I just don’t want you to get hurt. But, I also don’t want to seem overprotective... and... you’re right, okay? I guess I was thinking along the lines of Ivy McGinnis my girlfriend, and not Poison Ivy... the Psycho Bitch Manager of Champions. POISON IVY: Thanks, Sean. And, believe me... I know how you feel. I will be careful tonight. And, I’m only going to see Rudy, and maybe Eli if and when he shows up. Then, I’ll be right back there with you, helping you prepare. Don’t you even spend your last couple of hours worrying about me, okay? You’ve got a United States Title to win. (Sean extended his arms and they embraced briefly. After they broke loose... Ivy went in the opposite direction of their dressing room, as Sean continued straight, looking to his left, at a nameplate on a door. It read: HORNET. ...and, Sean... he just couldn’t help himself.) RUDY SEITZER: We're back here with the FISH FUND XIII Preview Show folks. If you haven't ordered this incredible CSWA spectacular on pay-per-view yet, you've got less than twenty minutes to call in to your cable or satellite provider. BILLY BUCKLEY: This is the new millennium, Rudy. All they have to do is a click a button on their remote controls, unless they live in Bumpass, Montana, of course. RS: I hope most of you were able to catch the FISH FUND Telethon on NCN earlier. It was a huge event full of music and celebrities, and it gave us all a chance to see some of those heartwarming stories that make us remember what the FISH FUND is all about. ByB: My favorite was that woman "Wanda." Did you see what they did to her? I mean, the woman looked a flat-chested burn victim with a square jaw and they turned her into something I'd be proud to take home to Mama! RS: I'm sure Mama Buckley's proud right about now. Not to mention Dad, who'll be calling the FISH FUND action in just under twenty minutes! Fans, we've already shown you some of the CSWA superstars arriving, as well as some celebrities. We're told that there's another limousine pulling into the parking garage. Let's send it outside. (CUTTO: The parking garage entrance, in an underground area of FISH FUND Park. The camera pans around the dock, scattered with cars, as a black stretch-job limo pulls from outside, and right up to the camera. The driver's side door opens, and it's SHAMON, wearing all black, zippered 'Bad' video gear, amazingly wet blonde gheri curl, and a chauffeur's cap! Shamon closes his door and points at it, grabs his belt buckle, spins, then moonwalks to the back of the limo!) ByB: What is this idiot doing? I'm surprised he even has a license! The people don't wanna see this! (Shamon spins again, swivel-kicks at air, and opens up the passenger's side door. He jumps up and down in place, fanning his face with the gloved hand, and shaking his nasty gheri curl all over the place, splattering the windshield with activator juice! Suddenly 'COCKY' CRAIG MILES gets out, and shoves him away! His back is to the camera, as he exits the limo, followed by 'HOT PROPERTY' EDDIE MAYFIELD! SHAMON closes the door, as we see the two clearly, wearing jeans, sunglasses, and GXW TEE-SHIRTS! The crowd watching the scene on the video wall in the arena goes nuts with boos as the two talk to each other) MAYFIELD: Listen, Shamon, you piece of garbage, you keep this limo running, and don't leave this spot until we TELL YA. You got that? (Shamon responds with a shrill sound, that sounds like he just called a nest of cockatiels) MAYFIELD: Good. (Shamon goes to get back in the car, but Mayfield grabs his shoulder, then quickly pulls his hand back, looking at it in disgust! He wipes his hand on his jeans) MAYFIELD: Lissen - make sure you put a pillowcase or something over the headrest in there, alright? This is a rental, you know." (Miles and Mayfield turn on their heels, and walk into the arena, chumming it up! The crowd boos like crazy! FADEOUT as Shamon waits for the Pros to leave, and he produces a huge spritz-bottle of curl activator from his jacket, and starts spraying his hair, sighing in relief!) RS: You've gotta be kidding me! THEY are the GXW "moles?" ByB: These are The Pros we're talking about, Rudy. They aren't dumb enough to throw in with a third-rate promotion. Then again, there was all that AAWC stuff... RS: Well they're obviously ready to make a getaway. Although, with Shamon at the wheel, who knows what could happen. I guess we won't know until later exactly what side Miles and Mayfield are on. Just think, if the GXW has managed to turn Wicked Sight AND The Professionals to their side... they could end up leaving here with the Greensboro Title, the Unified Tag Team Titles, and the United States Championship all in one fell swoop! ByB: So you're saying you don't think they've gotten to anybody in the other matches. RS: Let's hope not! ByB: Rudy, Rudy, Rudy. Can't you see the handwriting on the wall? RS: What are you talking about? ByB: This whole thing has been a well-orchestrated attack. Who's to say that Windham, or even Aho, aren't going to do the big turn on the CSWA here tonight? Or Adler, Stanley or Cruise? Who knows who they've gotten to. We don't even know how they got in or why...Merritt's kept his mouth shut about the whole thing! RS: That's true. Fans, we're going to send you to a special video package on the "Wicked Sight" Mike Plett/GUNS grudge match for the Greensboro Heavyweight Championship later tonight. Remember, you have just FIFTEEN minutes to wait until this huge event is underway! It's FISH FUND XIII coming up NEXT! |
