Post by Zasshu II on Mar 25, 2015 16:35:10 GMT
We open up on Eddie Black looking directly into the camera.
So the Roulette is comin’!
He looks fierce, wide eyed, angry.
Thirty men, one at a time, one winner, one Imperial Title shot. The odds ain’t in anybodies favor but everyone got they pick.
He nods his head with a slight grin.
Each man in this thing he’s got this shit locked down. Each man thinks he’s got what it takes to go through the other twenty nine to get that Imperial title shot. Each man! Each man thinks he’s the man to go onto Night of Immortals and dethrone Alex Jones. Thing is, twenty nine of us are wrong and one is right. Question is which one?
He looks from side to side.
I’d be goddamn easy to say it’s gonna be me. It’d be goddamn easy to sit here and tell ya’ll that I’m gonna throw every single dumb mother fucker who steps up to me outta that ring. That I’m the guy with all the right skills, the right kind of brutality and survivability to make it to the end of match an be the last man standin’. By would I waste that kind of time? Why would I stand here an say all the same things everybody else is gonna say?
Eddie shakes his head.
I ain’t like everybody else. I ain’t Al Thani, Gaither, Pleasant, Nighthawk. I ain’t another loud mouth braggin’ sonbitch with nothin’ better to do but hear my own voice. I’m a man with a goal an that goal is main eventin’ the biggest goddamn show on the planet.
I wanna face Alex Jones.
I know the odds are long, I know I ain’t anybodies pick to win this thing, I know all ya’ll look at me an see one half of the greatest goddamn tag team in the history of the company without his brother by his side an that shit makes me happy. I love bein’ underestimated. I love when people look at me an only see a tag team wrestler.
He just smirks.
It’s ya’lls fuck up to see Eddie Black as one half of team. I entered this goddamn company as a singles wrestler. Feuded with men like the Ace and damn near whipped his ass. Ya’ll may not see me as a threat an that’s fine but ya better believe I’m one of the most dangerous men in that match.
I ain’t got shit to lose.
Ya can’t fall no further than me. Main roster guy, former tag team champion, the right hand of GOD! An now I’m not even good enough to be on Training Grounds, wasn’t even fucking ranked till last week when I took the Arabic piece of shit and beat him fuckin’ senselss.
An he gets a title shot!?
Maybe Verona didn’t see me school that mother fucker like it wasn’t nobodies business but I saw it. I was there. I was in that match and I beat that towel headed mother fucker into the ground and pinned his ass.
He just nods, it’s an irritated nod.
Aight, that’s fine. Look me over. Pass me over. Go with the Arabor the gypsy or anyone else. Pick ya winners, ya favorites, but know this shit. I’m in that match. I’ve got no friends, no family, no position to lose, no where to go but up an that shit makes me dangerous.
All of ya’ll are a target to me. Each one of ya is in my cross hairs and ya better believe I know how to pull the trigger. This is my chance as much as it’s any a yours to show this promotion an all them fans sittin’ in the seats and watchin’ at home what Eddie Black is all about. Till this point you’ve only seen a fraction of what I’m capable. Consider this match a warnin’ shot.
Win or lose…
After Sunday Night ya gonna know what Eddie Black is about an what it is I’m here to do.
Eddie palms the lens and pushes it backward as he walks away.
When our scene opens up again it’s sometime much later, Eddie is training in a gym wearing a pair of camo mma trunks, no shirt and gloves. He’s going hard and heavy on a black punching bag. It sways with each strike as he bobs up and down, laying in shot after shot after shot.
It’s just you now boy.
He moves to the right and sways to the left before striking again.
No more excuses, no more wastin’ time.
He moves in hard with an elbow shot from his right arm.
Can’t pussy foot no more.
And another one.
Can’t count on no one but yaself.
He moves back for a jab/cross combo.
No Angel. No Tara… No Frank.
Jab/Cross.
Just me.
Jab/Cross.
No one else.
Hook/Upper cut.
Show’em what ya made of.
Sweat drips off his body, a puddle is forming at his feet.
Don’t hold nothin’ back.
He doesn’t hear the door open or the foot steps as they get closer.
Don’t leave nothin’ on the table.
Eddie is completely oblivious as the foot steps come to a stop behind him, he begins to unload punches on the bag like rapid fire.
”Eddie?”
He stops mid strike, his chest heaves from exhaustion as he slowly turns his head.
”Rachel?”
He tries to take in the sight of her, his high school sweet heart with the dirty blond hair and blue eyes but everything gets a little fuzzy, dehydration is setting in and he stumbles into the bag and drops to the ground.
”Eddie!”
Better ta die on my feet than live on my knees.
Well howdy there pardner.