Post by kaster on Jul 11, 2023 4:41:02 GMT
A VHS video is played, with static screeching onto the screen and a CRT filter over the following footage.
…
No footage. Just a black screen with some occasional static.
He turns the television off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Caleb Cannin strokes his chin. The Joker in the Pack briefcase lays on his lap. His hand runs across the sleek metal casing, knowing that this feeling of power could only be temporary. A power that only had upside. But it all comes down to a waiting game. Patience is a virtue, after all.
Propping the case up against the wall, he gets ready to fall asleep. Thoughts of what his next venture will entail become more prevalent as he lies down. He shuts his eyes, drifting off to a deep slumber…
The phone rings, lighting up and vibrating against the wooden surface of the nightstand. Cannin's eyes open wide as he turns his head towards the noise. He wildly grabs at his phone, trying to answer the sudden call.
"Hello? Kind of late to- oh… what is it? The tournament? I don't know if- what?! What the fuck do you mean I've been slotted in? They know what the deal was when I- okay, okay! Fine! Thank you, bye!"
He hangs up the phone and puts his hands up to his face.
"FUCK! You have got to be fucking kidding…"
Tossing his phone to the side, he groans and puts a pillow across his face. A round robin tournament? He has a golden ticket to the title… but now he has to wrestle a whole damn tournament. But if the prize is another title shot…
He goes to sleep, dreaming about the fateful night where he cashes in. Maybe it could be sooner than later…
A wave of quarters crashes onto a table. Caleb Cannin sifts his hand through the coins until he grabs a handful.
"Well, well, well… the Heir to the Throne. Another accolade to scratch off the list. Honestly, the idea of having to wrestle all of those matches sounds fucking horrendous. For a carny like James Gilmore or Nick Knight? It's a goddamn field day. Now, I understand that some guys will probably be angry that I'm getting another shot at title contention. My work simply has gone unappreciated within this company. Nobody wants to admit it, but I rake in the big bucks with every match I'm in. So if the suits want to keep rewarding me for my effort, I'm more than glad to take it. I mean it is hilarious to watch these old-timers piss in their diapers over a youngster like myself rising up quicker than Nick Knight using a blue pill!"
"This one is personal, Nick, because you were my first big roadblock in IWF. We went one-on-one and you got lucky. Ever since we crossed paths, though, it's almost as if I got off better! I won the Television title when you relinquished and what happened? You flopped again and again! For someone who claims to be such a badass, you sure couldn't get the job done against Angel Blake, could ya? Nothing makes me happier than knowing that all of that effort you put into the Television Championship, becoming a two-time champ, having ten defenses, creating a new rule for the belt… it was all for jack shit! You couldn't even bother to pick up the Invictus Championship as a consolation prize! The reality is that I work smarter and not harder. I didn't win the Joker in the Pack because I wrestle every week, I won because I'm that much of a star. Nick, it's people like you that make me want to change this place. The way you look down on guys like me is absolutely sickening. Aren't you supposed to help the next generation? Apparently not, since all you do is bitch and moan about the old days when you wrestled in Japanese bingo halls!"
"And what's with the shitty little psycho thing you got going on? If you bring that bullshit to the ring, prepare to take one of many losses in the Heir to the Throne. I'm not just coming to beat you, Nick, I'm coming to avenge a loss that I should never have taken. I'll tear your arm right out of its socket and I will have a hell of a time doing it! Do you remember that stinging sensation you got after wrestling me the last time? Is there a little tingle running down your arm right now? It's because of me, Nicky. You can try to fight through all of your pain but sometimes, it becomes too much to handle. But you're probably too fucking stupid to understand that. So when I lock you into Clairvoyance and you're reaching out to those ropes, feeling those muscles and tendons rip apart… you will see your future. Oh yes, your future lies in the motherfucking retirement home! I know you walk around and act like you're big shit when you've been taking L after L for so long, but remember that you will eventually have to sit back and bask in the glory of Caleb Cannin. You can claim to be a butcher but you just can't cut it! I have waited a long time to get my win back, Nick, and I can't think of a better way than denying you an undeserved title shot. You got your ass beat by Angel Blake, what makes you think you can take on his son? Could it be the drugs or the unprotected head shots? I think it's a bitter old man trying to hold onto any semblance of what might have made him good. The problem is that he can't let go of the past and he refuses to embrace the future. Instead, he'll prance around in masks and robes to pretend like he's still somebody important. That might work against some of the other old fucks or an idiot like Nick Danger, but you can't get past me. It's time someone gives you a harsh overdose of reality. After all, your own worst opponent is you, isn't it?"
"So on Tuesday, I'll be more than content with letting you beat yourself. Because, let's face it, beating yourself off is what you do best! Don't worry, though, I'll take pleasure in dismantling you limb by limb until you realize what a mistake you've made in facing me again. If you think you're going to get lucky again, you're dead fucking wrong. If you want to be lucky, take some quarters and hit the damn slots. Here, have some, you little bitch!"
He hurls the quarters in his hand against the lens of the camera, with a few managing to get a couple cracks in the glass before it cuts out.
…
No footage. Just a black screen with some occasional static.
He turns the television off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Caleb Cannin strokes his chin. The Joker in the Pack briefcase lays on his lap. His hand runs across the sleek metal casing, knowing that this feeling of power could only be temporary. A power that only had upside. But it all comes down to a waiting game. Patience is a virtue, after all.
Propping the case up against the wall, he gets ready to fall asleep. Thoughts of what his next venture will entail become more prevalent as he lies down. He shuts his eyes, drifting off to a deep slumber…
The phone rings, lighting up and vibrating against the wooden surface of the nightstand. Cannin's eyes open wide as he turns his head towards the noise. He wildly grabs at his phone, trying to answer the sudden call.
"Hello? Kind of late to- oh… what is it? The tournament? I don't know if- what?! What the fuck do you mean I've been slotted in? They know what the deal was when I- okay, okay! Fine! Thank you, bye!"
He hangs up the phone and puts his hands up to his face.
"FUCK! You have got to be fucking kidding…"
Tossing his phone to the side, he groans and puts a pillow across his face. A round robin tournament? He has a golden ticket to the title… but now he has to wrestle a whole damn tournament. But if the prize is another title shot…
He goes to sleep, dreaming about the fateful night where he cashes in. Maybe it could be sooner than later…
A wave of quarters crashes onto a table. Caleb Cannin sifts his hand through the coins until he grabs a handful.
"Well, well, well… the Heir to the Throne. Another accolade to scratch off the list. Honestly, the idea of having to wrestle all of those matches sounds fucking horrendous. For a carny like James Gilmore or Nick Knight? It's a goddamn field day. Now, I understand that some guys will probably be angry that I'm getting another shot at title contention. My work simply has gone unappreciated within this company. Nobody wants to admit it, but I rake in the big bucks with every match I'm in. So if the suits want to keep rewarding me for my effort, I'm more than glad to take it. I mean it is hilarious to watch these old-timers piss in their diapers over a youngster like myself rising up quicker than Nick Knight using a blue pill!"
"This one is personal, Nick, because you were my first big roadblock in IWF. We went one-on-one and you got lucky. Ever since we crossed paths, though, it's almost as if I got off better! I won the Television title when you relinquished and what happened? You flopped again and again! For someone who claims to be such a badass, you sure couldn't get the job done against Angel Blake, could ya? Nothing makes me happier than knowing that all of that effort you put into the Television Championship, becoming a two-time champ, having ten defenses, creating a new rule for the belt… it was all for jack shit! You couldn't even bother to pick up the Invictus Championship as a consolation prize! The reality is that I work smarter and not harder. I didn't win the Joker in the Pack because I wrestle every week, I won because I'm that much of a star. Nick, it's people like you that make me want to change this place. The way you look down on guys like me is absolutely sickening. Aren't you supposed to help the next generation? Apparently not, since all you do is bitch and moan about the old days when you wrestled in Japanese bingo halls!"
"And what's with the shitty little psycho thing you got going on? If you bring that bullshit to the ring, prepare to take one of many losses in the Heir to the Throne. I'm not just coming to beat you, Nick, I'm coming to avenge a loss that I should never have taken. I'll tear your arm right out of its socket and I will have a hell of a time doing it! Do you remember that stinging sensation you got after wrestling me the last time? Is there a little tingle running down your arm right now? It's because of me, Nicky. You can try to fight through all of your pain but sometimes, it becomes too much to handle. But you're probably too fucking stupid to understand that. So when I lock you into Clairvoyance and you're reaching out to those ropes, feeling those muscles and tendons rip apart… you will see your future. Oh yes, your future lies in the motherfucking retirement home! I know you walk around and act like you're big shit when you've been taking L after L for so long, but remember that you will eventually have to sit back and bask in the glory of Caleb Cannin. You can claim to be a butcher but you just can't cut it! I have waited a long time to get my win back, Nick, and I can't think of a better way than denying you an undeserved title shot. You got your ass beat by Angel Blake, what makes you think you can take on his son? Could it be the drugs or the unprotected head shots? I think it's a bitter old man trying to hold onto any semblance of what might have made him good. The problem is that he can't let go of the past and he refuses to embrace the future. Instead, he'll prance around in masks and robes to pretend like he's still somebody important. That might work against some of the other old fucks or an idiot like Nick Danger, but you can't get past me. It's time someone gives you a harsh overdose of reality. After all, your own worst opponent is you, isn't it?"
"So on Tuesday, I'll be more than content with letting you beat yourself. Because, let's face it, beating yourself off is what you do best! Don't worry, though, I'll take pleasure in dismantling you limb by limb until you realize what a mistake you've made in facing me again. If you think you're going to get lucky again, you're dead fucking wrong. If you want to be lucky, take some quarters and hit the damn slots. Here, have some, you little bitch!"
He hurls the quarters in his hand against the lens of the camera, with a few managing to get a couple cracks in the glass before it cuts out.
Well howdy there pardner.