Post by Michael James on Sept 6, 2013 14:39:43 GMT -5
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09/05/2013
Shibuya Police Headquarters
Tokyo, Japan
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Fade In
* We open with a wide angle view of the Shibuya Police Headquarters located in Tokyo, Japan. The cameras pan up the building to help explore the detail of the large industrial building while we hear the sound of various conversations in Japanese. We move past the entrance of the building and use a jump cut transition to set the scene directly outside of the holding area for active prisoners. A loud BUZZ sound is heard and the security door opens with the guidance of one of the many officers inhabiting the department. A few seconds later, Michael James is seen walking through the open doorway followed by a much smaller man dressed in an expensive suit. James is directed towards an area to collect his personal belongings. He approaches the counter and begins to speak to an officer that is seated behind the bullet proof glass. The officer replies to James in Japanese and opens the security drawer so he can collect his belongings. He reaches down and removes his wallet, a pack of cigarettes, leather jacket and trademark sunglasses. He begins to argue with the officer and a few seconds later James turns towards the man in the expensive suit. He approaches James and allows the former inmate to speak to him away from the window. A few seconds later the man approaches the counter *
Lawyer: Excuse me.
* He taps three times and the officer replies to him in English *
Officer: What do you need?
Lawyer: Apparently one of your officers forgot to include the entirety of my client’s belongings.
Officer: What you talking about?
Lawyer: Well, according to Mr. James, your department is still holding the flask he had on his possession during the time of his arrest. He says it’s a family heirloom so I would appreciate—
Officer: That belong to us now.
Lawyer: What do you mean?
Officer: Property of Shibuya police.
Lawyer: How do you figure that?
Officer: Everything stated in fine print on release form.
* He screams out “NEXT!” in Japanese and the lawyer has no choice but to accept the stipulations of Michael’s release. He moves away from the window and guides James away from the area while browsing the conditions of his release. We cut to an exterior view of the building and a few seconds later the two men make their exit from the department. There is a long black stretch limousine parked on the curb of the main strip. James and his lawyer approach the back of the limo and step inside. After taking a moment to get comfortable in the back seat, the lawyer reaches into his jacket and removes a small box. He opens the top of it and presents his client with an offering *
Lawyer: Cigar?
* James grows a smile on his face and leans forward *
Michael James: Don’t mind if I do.
* He removes a cigar from the box and removes the tip with his teeth. His lawyer hands James a zippo lighter and he uses the flame to ignite the tip. Michael James exhales a cloud of smoke from his mouth and leans back in his seat *
Lawyer: So, are we happy?
Michael James: For now. I’m still pissed as hell about the flask but with the money I’m paying you it won’t take much effort to get it back. All I really care about right now is getting my ass to the windy city so I can take care of some unfinished business.
Lawyer: Then you will be happy to know we were able to arrange your flight for an early departure.
Michael James: How early?
Lawyer: We’re on our way to the airport right now. Does that tell you anything?
* James exhales some smoke through his nostrils and ashes the cigar on a large tray built into the door of the limousine *
Michael James: It tells me you’re on top of your shit.
Lawyer: That I am, sir. That I am.
* A static feed interrupts the footage. A few seconds later the image clears and we gain an aerial view of central Illinois from the seat of an airplane *
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09/06/2013
Chicago Ridge Mall
Chicago, Illinois
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* The scene opens inside of what appears to be a shopping mall in Chicago, Illinois. A stage is set up on the first floor with a large banner near the top of the stage using David Dreadful’s image as the main attraction. A crowd of people are seen gathered in front of the stage carrying a variety of memorabilia celebrating his career. A few seconds later the speakers placed near the front of the stage begin to play “Let It Die” and the crowd directs their undivided attention towards the closed curtain. A cloud of smoke is seen from behind the curtain while the fans eagerly await the arrival of their hometown hero *
Fan: What’s the damn holdup?!
Fan #2: Yea! We gonna see Dreadful today or not?!
* The curtains move and to the crowd’s surprise they look straight ahead towards the stage gaining sight of none other than the number one contender for the EAW World Championship, Michael James. He has a Cuban cigar gripped between his teeth while sporting his trademark sunglasses and leather jacket. A few cameras are seen set up around the stage. The crowd begins to verbally insult him while tossing random pieces of garbage towards the stage. James smiles towards the angered mob before removing the cigar from his mouth. He looks towards the center of the stage and spots a custom made throne style chair arranged for Dreadful’s rumored appearance. James approaches the chair and casually sits down without a care in the world. He ashes his cigar on the stage, reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a microphone *
Michael James: Unfortunately, Dick Bag Dreadful couldn’t make it here today. It doesn’t matter if it was the result of a booking mistake on the behalf of management or Dreadful’s obvious lack of responsibility; you aren’t going to be seeing that negligent piece of shit anytime soon. You want to know why? He doesn’t care about you anymore. He doesn’t care about paying respect to the ones that put him where he is today. I don’t know about you guys but that sounds like a lot of bullshit to me.
Fan: You’re the one that’s full of shit!
Michael James: Excuse me?
Fan: You heard me, douche bag! Ask around and anyone here will testify that Dreadful would never leave us high and dry. He’s a man of the people!
* James almost chokes on the cigar smoke after hearing the comment made by the fan in the front row *
Michael James: A man of the people? I’m sorry. Is that supposed to be funny?
Fan: You wish, asshole. He didn’t become the number one wrestler in the Midwest by turning his back on his own people.
Michael James: No, he became the “number one” wrestler in Midwest by registering a stereotypical moniker with the copyright offices in Springfield. He hasn’t earned a fucking thing besides consistent degradation on his own behalf. If you want to buy into his manipulative bullshit and put him on that paperweight pedestal, be my guest. The people of Germany made the same mistake with Adolf and we all saw what happened there.
Fan #2: This dude is out of his damn mind! Are you really trying to compare David Dreadful to Adolf Hitler?
Michael James: I’m doing what has to be done in order to establish sensible actuality. In other words I’m putting all bullshit aside while supplying a dose of reality to people who refuse to listen to reason. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Unlike David Dreadful, I’m a man of my word. Unlike the Dick Bag supreme, I stand by the things I say I’m going to do no matter how difficult they prove to be. That’s why I’m the next World Champion and he isn’t. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened here. Dreadful abandoned you because he feels that he has moved past the point of paying dues. Personally, I could really care less about that. I didn’t sign with the EAW for the sole purpose of my own benefit. I’ve always been a company man so I gladly accept the responsibility of carrying the weight of the EAW on my shoulders the same way I will the World Championship. Dreadful thinks he is better than you. He thinks he’s better than me. Hell, he thinks he’s the center of the fucking universe. Think about it. What exactly has he done worth mentioning? Nothing. So what the hell is the trying to prove by claiming false accomplishments?
Fan: He doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone!
Michael James: Really? And why is that?
Fan: Because Dreadful didn’t need some shitty victory over a newcomer to be the best around. It just comes natural for him. You’re the one that needed the win over Caliban to move ahead, you oblivious prick!
* James tilts his head to the side and takes another drag from his cigar. “Let It Die” starts to play on the speakers and the crowd begins to erupt. Michael James jumps out of the chair and looks around the stage for any sign of David Dreadful. A few seconds later we gain sight of a large shadowed figure as he appears from behind one of the curtains. The crowd begins to chant Dreadful’s name as the man walks towards the center of the stage. He is wearing a cheap black wig and tattered clothing similar to David’s wardrobe. His face is smeared with cheap white zombie makeup and bright pink lipstick. When the crowd discovers the man is an imposter they begin to reign down on him with negativity. The fake David Dreadful brings a microphone to his mouth *
Imposter: Michael James! The time has come for to step up and stop being TJ’s bitch…wait a second.
* He reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a stack of small cards containing dialogue. He slowly reads from the card while doing his best to impersonate David Dreadful *
Imposter: So now I’m here in Cleveland…
Michael James: Chicago.
* The imposter looks up at James with a frustrated expression and begins to speak with his regular voice *
Imposter: I don’t care where we are. The bloody card says Cleveland! Fuck it.
* He says with a clear English accent *
Imposter: I’m here to show the people of Chicago why you have been ducking me for too long. It’s time for some payback for all the terrible things you said….
* He looks down and pulls the next card forward in order to finish his dialogue *
Imposter: About David Dreadful. Time to dance, bitch.
* The imposter stuffs the cards back into his pocket. He carefully places the microphone on the floor of the stage. He looks up at James and moves towards him with limited effort. He gives James a feminine slap across the chest. James looks up at the imposter and breaks character by laughing out loud. He turns back and pokes the imposter in the chest. The imposter crashes to the floor. Michael James looks down at the man *
Michael James: Okay, Dick Bag. Are we done here or are you up for more punishment?
Imposter: No. I submit because I am too weak of a man to contend with the likes of you. I probably should have known better. You bested me on multiple occasions so I know when I am beaten.
Michael James: And the truth shall set you free, David Dreadful.
* He reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a bottle of expensive whiskey with a small wad of money attached with a rubber band. He hands the imposter the bottle and walks back to the chair. He returns to his seat and he takes another drag from his cigar *
Michael James: Now, are you people satisfied or do you require further proof of my obvious dominance over your counterfeit icon? If so, feel free to do me a big favor by sending all of your requests to someone who truly gives a shit what you think or feel. I had my share of that incompetent son of a bitch on Collision and now I have bigger things to worry about. Think about it. I’m the next EAW World Champion. You know what that means, David? Of course you don’t because you aren’t championship material. You’re ancient fucking history that refuses to accept your current position in the pecking order. And don’t get me wrong. I can understand why you’re trying to revive your decaying career by riding my coat tails but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow it. After everything was said and done at Collision; I didn’t walk away with some newfound respect for you. I still see you as the lowly, untalented, speck of useless shit that refuses to take a fucking hint. You know who I do respect? Me. You know why? I’m in class of my own. I’m undefeated. I’m a future champion. I’m the most talented prospect to walk through the doors of the EAW even if you refuse to acknowledge my potential. But it doesn’t matter what you think. You’re at the ass end of the line and I’m at the front. I’m the new flagship name and you’re a busted fucking leg. That’s just where your career is now. Accept your place or deny it. I really don’t care. Not everyone can live up to the job of being the company’s biggest embarrassment. But you know something? You seem to master that portrayal with ease.
* The Dreadful imposter belches out loud while lying on the floor of the stage. He takes another sip from the bottle *
Michael James: I’m not going to lie. There are times when I considered putting a shotgun to my head if it meant avoiding another one of the predictable promos. Your material is outdated and your attempt at any kind of intimidation is a fucking joke. Like I said before, douche nozzle, your time has come and gone. All you have to look forward to is your much needed retirement from the business that doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. I know it’s not the way you wanted to end your career but that’s life for you, Dick Bag. Sometimes things don’t turn out the way we expect them to. In your case nothing turns out the way you expect because you’re a fucking idiot. You want to know why things work out for Michael James? It’s because I’m that much better than you and everyone else. Jordan Caliban couldn’t get the job done. You couldn’t get the job done at Collision and neither could Chelsea Armstrong. Unlike you assholes I’m a unique exhibition of flawless natural born talent. I’m a step above the rest and I won’t accept anything less when it comes to active competition. I don’t care who they are or what they’ve done in the past. I’m the future, I’m the next world champion and I’m the only name that matters in the EAW. People look at me and they say “that guy is going to be the next world champion”. You know what they say when they look at David Dreadful? Nothing. All they can do is laugh because that’s exactly what that insignificant douche has become. A fucking joke.
* A variety of people begin to gradually move away from the crowd. A few audience members are seen listening to Michael James with positive interest *
Michael James: You might have been able to fool a few people but I refuse to be sucked into your bullshit, David. At this point in my career the sky is the limit and I’m not going to allow a piece of shit like you to stand in my way of success. I’ve paid my dues and now I’m enjoying the benefits of the rewards I have earned. How about you? What are you doing right now? Watching this promo with your thumb up your ass and your jaw on the floor? That’s what I thought. Do me a favor and after you have a chance to wipe away the drool, try to pull your head out of your ass and find a way to strike back without boring me to death. As a matter of fact, I want you to give me the best promotion of your career in an attempt to prove why you still belong in the EAW. But then again, everyone knows you aren’t going to do that. It’s like I said before, douche. You aren’t championship material. Even if you had the ability to display the performance of the decade and it wouldn’t be good enough to compete against one of my farts.
* A few audience members laugh out loud in response to Michael’s words *
Michael James: If you just do the smart thing and keep my name out of your mouth things will be much easier for you, David. I’m better than the rest and I’ve proven that more than once. I know it isn’t a simple concept for you to accept but it’s not like you have a choice in the matter. Just come to terms with reality and move on. Hang up your boots and appreciate the pointless time you had in the spotlight. If you truly are the celebrated pride of EAW like you say you are then you should have no problem moving aside for the good of the company. Personally, I have a really hard time believing you were respected by anyone but who am I to judge your imagination? I might be a lot of things but a censor I am not. If you want to portray a life full of delusion and artificial success, be my guest. I believe everyone should be open to free thought. That way we can easily separate proficient artists from the clueless douche bags like David Dreadful.
* James takes another drag from his cigar. He nods at the imposter giving him permission to leave the stage. He turns away from the crowd and prepares to make his exit. He turns back towards one of the stage cameras at the last second *
Michael James: Just take a moment to think about something. I didn’t earn my reputation as the Personification of Perfection in hopes that one day it will stick. Unlike you, I take pride in being the physical definition of untapped excellence while you’re still hoping to get by on a half assed moniker.
* The camera zooms back to the regular frame. James exhales a cloud of smoke from his nostrils and removes his sunglasses *
Michael James: Don’t take this the wrong way, Dick Bag. Don’t take it personal because I fully encourage you to continue making mistakes that will lead to your unavoidable defeat. Keep dragging your busted leg down the road to nowhere to see where you end up.
* Michael James turns away from the camera leaving a cloud of cigar smoke in his path *
Fade Out
