| El_Pablo | Date: Saturday, 2011/08/13, 9:56 PM | Message # 1 |
 Jobber
Group: TDS member/moderator
Messages: 22
Status: Offline
| The screen opens on darkness, although this swiftly dissipates, bringing us face-to-(masked) face with the aforementioned Five Star Superstar himself. While the extreme zoom on the camera prohibits us from seeing much beyond his wrestling mask, we can at least see that - wherever he currently is, and whatever he is currently doing - he appears to be concentrating extremely hard, such is the rather pained, intense expression on his face.
EL PABLO: Hmmm…
Slowly, the camera begins to pull out, revealing a small series of playing cards, fanned open in EP’s hand. The Five Star Superstar continues to study his hand - well, not HIS hand, the hand inside his hand.. you know what I mean, stop being a dick! - for a few moments, before turning to his left.
EL PABLO: Do you have any.. threes?
The camera swings to the right slightly, bringing into view the head and upper torso of EP’s girlfriend and fellow EWA Superstar Cristal, her own collection of cards held purposefully in hand.
CRISTAL: I have.. 12 threes.. a joker.. and a slip of paper showing a crudely-drawn imagining of myself and Carmen in the "Scissors" position.
The camera cuts to an overhead shot of the table around which EP and Cristal are sat, as the diva places those cards face up on the top. The camera then cuts swiftly back to Cristal, who still appears to be holding the exact same number of cards she was before. The camera then swings back round again, past EP and onto the head and shoulders of Amelia, sat across the table from Cristal with a look of resignation on her face.
AMELIA: *Sigh* Too rich for my blood...
Amelia tosses her cards over her shoulder, leaving them to flutter down to the floor as she suddenly produces a small pocket knife, and presses the blade into the palm of her hand, slowly tracing a line across it that sends blood trickling down onto the table in front of her. She then clenches her hand together with a grimace, as the camera cuts back to EP, who has one eyebrow well-and-truly cocked beneath his mask as he stares at the pilot.
EL PABLO: Uh-huh... How bout you, Richey?
The camera whirls round again, revealing Richey sat slumped in his own chair, apparently unconscious, blood running down his arm from several small lacerations spelling out the phrase "4 REAL". The camera lingers on the guitarist for a few moments, before swinging back to EP.
EL PABLO: Okay guys, I really think it's time to call it a day on this one.
CARMEN: Awwwwwww!! No! Come on guys, stay for another!
CRISTAL: No, I think EP's right, Carmen; I mean, he's gotta accompany Crimson Blaze to the ring for his latest attempt at becoming a World Heavyweight Champion tomorrow.. and I've gotta prepare for my big comeback as a full-on, bona-fide professional wrestler!
Suddenly, the scene is infiltrated by the sound of "Been Training Dogs" by former UK rock band The Cooper Temple Clause, blaring out through the somewhat tinny speakers of what one might assume is some kind of cellphone. EP reaches into his pocket and removes just such a device, pressing a button to answer the call and pressing it to his ear.
EL PABLO: Yellow!
Before EP's greeting has even had chance to reach the other end of the connection, the Five Star Superstar's head is reflexively forced back by a barrage of furious screaming flying out of the phone's speaker. This screaming continues almost without breath for a good 3 minutes, before an abrupt *click* brings a merciful silence back to the room. Displaying a surprising amount of calm considering, EP returns the phone to his pocket, then places his elbows on the table, cupping his head in his hands as he leans forward and takes a deep breath.
EL PABLO: Well.. apparently it's not July 19th anymore...
CRISTAL: ..It isn't?
EL PABLO: Nope. Apparently.. it's August 3rd.. and you and I are in a LOT of trouble.
Silence descends upon the room once more, the camera cutting back to take in all 5 members of the whatever-the-fuck-game-they're-playing ring as their respective eyes glance in varying directions around the room. Suddenly, EP and Cristal burst into life, half-leaping and half-falling out of their chairs and frantically making their way off-screen towards - one assumes - the exit, as the screen fades to black.
----------*****----------
The darkness remains on the screen for a few moments as the sound of an angry voice spitting out from between the lips of a Motor City mouth gradually fades in over the top.
CRIMSON BLAZE: That's IT!! I'm sick of this!!!
The darkness filters out, revealing flashback footage from the most recent edition of Shatterpoint. Crimson Blaze stands at the top of the ramp, a look of intense frustration etched upon his face as he clenches a microphone tight in the palm of his trembling hand.
BLAZE: I get handed you Marsham, a man I defended after losing to you, and your own arrogance in pushing me loses me the match! And all this after i'm DITCHED by my best friend! What the hell, have I got a damn target on my back!? Is it let's destroy the good will of Blaze day!? You Marsham, I shouldn't have expected anything less, but El Pab...
"Hypersonic" by Janes Addiction screams out over the arena and the fans get to their feet.
TIMMONS: Is it?...
The screen opens and no one appears, smoke starts to drift through the doorway as Blaze looks on, only a few feet in front.
TIMMONS: IT IS!
The crowd explode in the biggest cheer of the night as El Pablo comes out onto the arena. His mask in place, but wearing a pink shirt and jeans. He looks at Crimson Blaze, who gives a steely gaze in return. Pablo asks for the mic and Blaze waits a few seconds, contemplating, finally he hands it over, but keeps his grip a second longer than necessary as Pablo tries to grab it. The crowd die down as Pablo brings the mic to his mouth.
EL PABLO: What a month.... you guys pleased to see me!?
Another huge cheer erupts.
EL PABLO: Me too. I thought i'd come out here and explain to you... and to you CB, why I wasn't here last Shatter Point. Truth is Blaze, you know me, you've known me for years, I wouldn't pull that without a good reason...
Blaze looks hard at Pablo, but eventually shrugs in agreement.
EL PABLO: See, the reason I was "absent" was ue to none other than.. MARCELLUS PAYNE!
A shocked boo echoes out of the arena, as Pablo looks at the unconvinced Blaze.
EL PABLO: It's the truth man, I don't know if he didn't want me around when he did what he had planned last week and this, but that son of a bitch locked me up in a damn lime green coffin in his home. I've had to listen to his damn sermons for the last two weeks and eat his cavier and grits leftovers. You know me and Payne have never seen eye to eye, but this was too far. I only got out when a passer by heard me sobbing about being locked up in a florescent gothic nightmare... oh thanks Conswaila!
Pabs thumbs up the screen and flashes a grin, as he does Blaze grabs the mic back.
BLAZE: ..You being serious?
Pablo hold up his hands in innocence.
BLAZE: So you never left me out to dry?
Pablo shakes his head slowly.
BLAZE: Then the way I figure it we got some ass to kick!
Pablo nods, the huge smile back on his face.
BLAZE: El Feugo taking on Marcellus Payne... and YOU!!!
Blaze points down to the ring at Marsham, who looks back, shocked. Pablo takes the mic back.
EL PABLO: Look man, he tried his best, I seen it all, listen, even the crowd love their new champ!
MARSHAM! MARSHAM! MARSHAM!
BLAZE: Yeah, well that's not the way I see it... look EP, back me up here. He caused me the loss, I want him in the ring, you gonna fight beside me... or get "kidnapped" again?
Pablo looks slightly taken back, but nods his head, patting Blaze on the shoulder. In the ring Marsham nods, shrugging, a slightly apologetic look on his face, but still set.
TIMMONS: What an announcement, and what a match for next week's go home Shatter Point!!! The Champion and his Challenger Black Jesus to take on El Feugo!
The sound and picture suddenly experience a slight shift in tone and contrast, followed by the camera retreating slowly from the action, revealing a large flatscreen television broadcasting the footage from the top of a wall inside what appears to be a large office. The camera pulls round slowly, bringing into view a large, executive-looking wooden desk, behind which sits EWA General Manager and all-round "Fans' Man" Frankie Manning, dressed to impress as always in a high-quality three piece suit. His elbows are rested on the desk, with his hands clasped together against his lips, themselves attached to a face etched vehemently with an expression so stern one assumes Xavier Reid must be somewhere within the vicinity.
However, it is not Reid who sits in the chair opposite Manning at this time. Rather, it is El Pablo, his face turned toward the TV, eyebrow cocked and mouth slightly ajar in a look of what appears to be a combination of surprise and confusion.
EL PABLO: ..Really!?
EP turns to face Manning, both men's projected emotion standing firm.
EL PABLO: THAT.. really!?
MANNING: Oh, I'm sorry, are you putting forward a complaint about that segment? Because I'm pretty sure you lost your right to an opinion on the way that all went down when you NO-SHOWED THE FUCKING EVENT!!!
EL PABLO: Fair point, b-
MANNING: FAIR!? You wanna talk to me about fucking FAIR!? Is it FAIR that - having just spearheaded the graduation of this company from a regional gig to a national, televised powerhouse - I have to contend with an ever-increasing number of injuries, suspensions and fucking mercenaries!? And is it then FAIR that one of the supposed "leading lights" of this company - a man we, perhaps more than any other superstar, were banking on to get the asses in seats and the merch off the rails - suddenly starts apparently deciding to pick and choose which fucking shows he's gonna turn up for and compete on, leaving me with no option but to shoehorn the most English-sounding jobber I can find into some of your spare attire, and thrust him out onto that stage hoping that the hundreds of thousands of your die-hard fans won't notice!? Is that FAIR, Pablo!?
...
...
...
...
...
EL PABLO: ..I mean, I was GONNA turn up, but Waldo wanted to show me his dil-
MANNING: ENOUGH!!!
I don't wanna hear it!!
No more!!!
No more surreallist ramblings along some bullshit premise with the most tenuous of links to whatever the fuck you might be involved in that week!
No more "edgy" documentary-style skits designed to create the illusion of someone "shattering the illusion" of the business!
No more randomly side-slipping people onto the payroll of this company, just so you can string out some ridiculous, irrelevant joke where their name sounds a little bit like their job title - Joanie DeLawyer, Ad ver Tising, Joana List..
EL PABLO: Hey! Adam's been a great serv-
MANNING: JUST.. get out there.. get in that ring.. and give the people in the audience a thorough.. professional.. El.. Pablo.. Experience.
PLEASE.
For the love of GOD.
Manning places his head in his hands, as EP just stares down at the desk in front of him, presumably absorbing the verbal tongue-lashing just fired in his direction. After a few moments, he lifts his head..
EL PABLO: ..Can I still appear on classic improvisational comedy sho-
MANNING: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The screen cuts quickly to black again, Manning's scream echoing out into the darkness.
----------*****----------
The darkness dissipates once again a few moments later, revealing yet another close-up of El Pablo's masked face. However, this close-up is not quite as intense as the last, allowing us to determine that he is currently sat on the benches of his locker room at the Colloseum. In the background, Cristal paces intently back and forth, a cellphone glued to her ear as she makes incredibly-animated attempts to remonstrate with whoever might be on the other end. However, the main focus of the shot remains the Five Star Superstar, who glances rather sheepishly at the camera in silence for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath and beginning his address.
EL PABLO: Sooooo.. hello there!
Remember me?
If you don't.. I guess you've only started watching professional wrestling over the past month or so; in which case.. congratulations on choosing such a fine promotion with which to burst your cherry!
EP flashes a brief thumb-up-and-smile combination at the camera, before returning to sheepishness.
EL PABLO: If you DO.. then you probably won't be needing me to tell you that the light of the old Five Star Superstar has been suffering a little "pop and fizzle" recently.
And, you know what, I'm not gonna sit here and run over explanations, or reel off excuses, or any of that inconsequential bullshit that some of you might be expecting, because it's just that.
Inconsequential.
The IMPORTANT thing.. is that as of right now.. The Five Star Superstar is back. And, like all the very greatest interstellar events, he's fixing to go full-on SUPERNOVA inside the EWA Colloseum this week at Shatterpoint, when the perennial underdogs that are El Fuego take on the two biggest hitters currently doing business inside that squared circle!
Now Justin.. I've heard what you've had to say during the week... and you're right. We may have had our conflict in the past, but - while we may not still see eye-to-eye on a large number of things regarding the philosophy of this business - I think we can both at least admit a great deal of mutual respect towards each other, and approach this contest in the very best spirit of competition.
That said.. I appear to have found myself on a little bit of a mission to prove that the Five Star Superstar is not only still burning.. but that he's also capable of lighting a fire under each and every person currently plying their trade within this industry.
What better way to send that message out than with a big old tick in the "W" column beside the words "World Heavyweight Champion"?
As far as my trying to "talk some sense" into my old buddy Crimson Blaze goes.. I'm afraid you're so very much on your own with that one! Caybes is on a mission.. and believe you me, when that boy gets in the zone like he is right now.. even Krakatoa itself would find itself urging the boy to simmer down a little!
However, while we're on the subject of tag partners, I suggest you tell YOUR partner that...
..Ah fuck it, I'll tell him myself.
Marcellus.. you're a dick. And, straight up, I really really REALLY wanna unleash every kind of jaw-breaking, skull-crushing, back-breaking, ankle-gnawing El Pablo Experience upon you, just so no-one has to suffer through any more of this ridiculous pseudo-religious BULLSHIT!!!
Over the past few months, you've been nothing more than a collossal pain in my ass, the perenial object in my way of climbing back up that mountain and taking my rightful place atop that glorious golden summit. So help me GOD, sooner or later I'm gonna leave you laying so flat on your back that the primordial soup left behind will serve as irrefutable evidence that evolution exists, and that "Black Jesus" is nothing more than a big, stinking, sneaking cesspool of Holy Horseshit!
I AM El Pablo..
I AM the Five Star Superstar..
And I AM walking out of Shatterpoint with my arms raised high.. and THAT..
..is a FIVE..
STAR..
GUARANTEE!!!!!
"Hypersonic" bursts into life, playing over the top of the action as EP stares defiantely down the camera lens for a few moments, before the screen fades to black for the final time.
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