Post by Michael James on Oct 10, 2013 14:44:04 GMT -5
* We open inside of the Renaissance Hotel in New York City. The cameras move through the lobby to find various guests signing in at the front desk while bellhops and staff members attend their directed tasks. The scene cuts to the third floor of the hotel and down a few hallways where the cameras stop in front of an open door. We move through the open doorway into an empty lecture hall where a camera crew is found setting up their equipment. A few seconds later the cameras cut to the doorway where we gain sight of Michael James casually entering the room with the Evolution of Violence World Championship draped over his shoulder. The lights in the room catch a reflection from the fifteen pounds of gold resting on his body. One of the men from the camera crew stands up and approaches James *
Man: Greetings, Mr. James. My name is Stanley Burke and I represent World Wrestling Illustrated...
* James glares at the man with a frustrated expression *
Michael James: Okay. Then that would also make you the douche bag that decided to wake me up at the fucking crack of dawn to do this bullshit. Is that right?
Burke: Well, you need to understand there is a slight time difference--
Michael James: Shut up. Just tell your crew to get their shit together because I don’t have all day to do this.
Burke: I understand, Mr. James. I assure you that we’re going to do everything we can to complete this interview without it interfering with your schedule. Hopefully, after we release this interview to the public it will cause a lot of the rumors that are speculating about your career to come to a stop.
Michael James: Rumors? What the fuck are you talking about?
Burke: Well, for starters, there are a lot of people who are beginning to question your victory of the Evolution of Violence World Championship.
Michael James: Oh yea? Which people?
Burke: People that are heavily involved in the industry. Website bloggers, magazine editors and writers for publications that pretty much run the independent side of the business.
Michael James: So, in other words, a bunch of clueless assholes that had nothing to do with my victory over David Dreadful at Un-Killable.
Burke: Be as it may that’s not how the fans see it and that’s the purpose of conducting this interview. We want to hear your thoughts and opinions regarding that and a few other things.
Michael James: Fine. You got one hour.
* He reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a flask filled with Sake. He takes a swig from the flask while the camera crew continues preparing lighting, sound and video for the shoot interview. James walks up the stairs of the hall and takes a seat in the second row. He places his sunglasses back onto his face before taking another swig from the flask. Stanley moves to the second row and sits down in the same section as James. He brings a microphone to his mouth and faces the camera *
Burke: Alright wrestling fans around the globe, Stanley Burke here with you LIVE! to present another exclusive shoot interview that you won’t find anywhere else but World Wrestling Illustrated.
* James interrupts Burke with a disgusting belch that is heard off camera. Stanley grows an irritated expression on his face before continuing his dialogue *
Burke: Apparently, the man I have joined with me today needs no formal introduction. He is an acknowledged world champion in various promotions throughout the United States and Japan, a former King of the Deathmatch and the current Evolution of Violence World Champion. Here he is without further ado, the Personification of Perfection, Michael James.
* The camera pans towards James to show him lying back in his chair with no concern for professionalism. He takes another swig from the flask and spits some of it onto the floor. He puts up his feet and adjusts his sunglasses *
Michael James: I’m sorry Burke but that had to be one of the worst possible introductions I have ever heard in my life. Even a mentally challenged dipshit like Chase Michaels could have done better than that.
Burke: You want me to do it again?
Michael James: No. I want you to do your fucking job and stop wasting my time.
Burke: Alright. It’s your show. Asshole.
* He says with sarcasm under his breath *
Michael James: What did you say, Burke?
Burke: Nothing.
* He pulls up a stack of cards and begins to read from the first one *
Burke: Let’s start with what we were talking about when you made it here this morning. The EoV World Championship.
Michael James: Okay.
Burke: There is a lot of speculation coming from miscellaneous sources claiming your current title reign is bordering fraudulence. In other words, people are saying instead of winning the championship by defeating David Dreadful, it was handed to you as an improper reward.
Michael James: There was nothing “improper” about my victory over David Dreadful. I was granted an opportunity and I acted on it quicker than anyone would have expected. Is it my fault David didn’t have the ability to come prepared for the fight of his life? No, it’s not. He could have put forth an effort but just like everyone saw at Un-Killable; he didn’t do that. He laid down like a dog and lost to the man who continues to prove to be the new face of the EoV. Personal opinions don’t mean a fucking thing to me. I don’t care if it’s from people in the company or if it’s from a bunch of pathetic fans writing from the confines of their mother’s basement. I have nothing left to prove to anyone. If a bunch of oblivious douche bags want to argue my word then I challenge them to do it to my face. I told people a long time ago that I’m not in this business to make friends. I’m in this business because I love being financially compensated to physically harm imbeciles that are below me. Caliban was below my standards and we all saw what happened there. I ripped him open and bled him like a stuck pig all over the damn ring. Not only did he lose his shot at my World Championship but he also lost the ability to legally compete. Do you honestly think any one of those pathetic bloggers want any part of that, Burke?
Burke: Of course not.
Michael James: That’s right. And you know why? It’s because those weak motherfuckers are just as full of shit as Caliban was. I’m sure it’s easy talking shit behind the safety of a monitor but what would happen if I was to confront any one of them? It would be shit pants city upon the mere sight of me. Either way I can’t let any of their pointless rumors distract me in any way because they aren’t the ones keeping score. I am. You know why? Because I’m the undefeated champion that was paid in advance to put an end to the decaying career of David Dreadful. As of right now that fucker has no possible way of walking straight let alone competing for the world championship so I would say mission accomplished on my part. Like always, my predictions came true and now David is nothing more than a lump of useless shit at the back of the line. Granted, that isn’t much different than he was before I put him on the shelf but at this point he isn’t just broken and beaten, he’s fucking helpless. He might as well just accept his career for what it is.
* He takes a swig from his flask *
Michael James: Ancient fucking history.
Burke: Okay. Moving on to the next subject.
* Stanley shuffles the cards until stopping on an individual one labeled “deathmatch” *
Burke: Prior to your five year hiatus from the business you were known for your accomplishments surrounding the ultraviolent circuit, primarily the Japanese deathmatch that served as inspiration for a variety of promotions throughout the world. Should we expect to see any of those matches in your immediate future or is it too late in your career to risk your personal health for the sake of a championship?
Michael James: I always say to expect the unexpected. If you are constantly prepared for the worst there is only so much that people can throw at you. So far I’ve had a cluster of assholes thrown my way and it did nothing more but push my name that much closer to the top of the mountain. Is that the result that people like Chelsea Armstrong and Dick Bag Dreadful may have expected? Of course it wasn’t. But that didn’t concern me because I had bigger and better things to worry about than the opinions of two mindless imbeciles. I was ready for them just like I’m ready for anything that comes my way. I’ve proven that time and time again so tossing the idea of a deathmatch into the mix isn’t going to alter my current course of production. You just need to understand something, Burke.
* James takes another swig of Sake and allows the liquid to slide down his throat *
Michael James: I’m not like anyone else on the Evolution of Violence. They aren’t used to seeing someone with my type of skill so they have no possible source of defense. But it’s like I’ve said in the past, that isn’t my problem. If someone like Chelsea Armstrong wants to continually fuck up every opportunity placed in front of her it isn’t my problem. If Jason Kaine ends up in a wheelchair for the rest of his life because of what happens in this tag match on Chaos, yep, you guessed it. Not my problem. I don’t give a shit about what happens to either one of them. If they continue to prove to be nothing but complete shit they should expect nothing less than the worst possible treatment allowed. I’ve proven to be a flagship champion and that’s why I get paid more than anyone else on the entire roster. You know why? It’s because unlike the dying breeds, I fucking deserve it.
* A static feed interrupts the shoot interview. When the image clears we gain sight of a one story house located in a suburban neighborhood. A few seconds later a custom built Pontiac GTO slowly moves into the frame. There is death metal music heard playing on the stereo and a trail of smoke coming from the driver side window. The car pulls up in front of the house and comes to a stop. The driver door opens and we see Michael James step out of the car with a Cuban cigar gripped between his teeth. He has the Evolution of Violence World Championship draped over his right shoulder. He walks to the front of the house and knocks on the door. A man in his early twenties opens the door. *
Man: Can I help you?
Michael James: Yea.
* He exhales some cigar smoke into the man’s face *
Michael James: Is your name Barney Pattison?
Man: No. That’s my roommate. Why? Are you a cop or something?
Michael James: Do I look like a cop?
Man: I don’t know. Sort of.
* James removes his sunglasses and he places them inside of his jacket *
Michael James: Well, I assure you, I’m not a fucking cop.
Man: Okay. But that still doesn’t answer my question. Why do you need to find Barney?
Michael James: I need to talk to him about something.
Man: You aren’t going to hurt him, are you?
Michael James: I wasn’t planning on it. He applied for a job with my company a few weeks back—
Man: Wait a second. This is work related? You want to give him a job?
Michael James: That’s right.
* Barney’s roomie suddenly drops his guard and opens the door a bit further *
Man: Why didn’t you say that in the first place? That guy owes me half a grand in back rent. Come on in. I’ll get him for you.
* James snuffs out his cigar before entering the one story residence. The roommate moves towards the back of the house while calling out to Barney. James patiently waits in the living room taking notice of the various posters decorating the room. He grows a disgusted sneer when he gains view of a poster featuring David Dreadful. Moments later the roommate is seen walking back into the room. Following behind him is an overweight man with a face full of acne in need of a serious bath. When Barney looks up and gains sight of Michael James he grows a panicked expression *
Barney: FUCK!
* Without any kind of warning James shoves the roommate out of his way and begins aggressively moving towards Barney. In an effort to make an escape through the hallway, Barney trips on something on the floor and lands flat on his face. James grabs hold of one of his ankles and drags him along the floor. He easily pulls the out of shape blogger along the floor until making it to the back bedroom. James drags Barney into the room and releases hold of his ankle. He lifts Barney up by his John Cena t-shirt and holds him up within arm’s length *
Michael James: Hello there, Barney. I think you and I need to have a little chat.
Barney: No…no we don’t!
* He says with a cowardly tone while he stutters out his words *
Michael James: Oh, so now that I’m here in person you got nothing to say? I’m offended!
* He violently tosses Barney down on top of his WWE play set causing a variety of action figures and toys to smash into pieces. James approaches Barney and leans down *
Michael James: You want to know why I’m so pissed off, Barney? HUH?!
* Barney covers his face and cowers like a scared kitten *
Michael James: It’s not that hard to figure out.
* James reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a piece of paper. He unfolds the paper and shows it to Barney *
Michael James: Mistake me if I’m wrong here, Barn. But according to this page I printed from your blog, you seem to have a LOT of problems with the Personification of Perfection making a return to the world of professional wrestling. So you know what we’re going to do right now?
Barney: Um…I-I-I don’t know…
Michael James: We’re going to find a way to FIX all of these problems you have with me. What do you think about that?
Barney: I don’t know…I’m really scared right now…
Michael James: You’re scared? Why? Is it because for the first time in your life someone you decided to publically shame is here to call you out on your bullshit?
Barney: No…I—Just---Please…
Michael James: No? Are you calling me a liar?!
* He drags Barney up by his shirt and tosses him across the room. Barney crashes into his desk directly on top of his Mac computer. The construction of the desk collapses upon his landing causing Barney to crash to the floor. James approaches Barney and leans down once again *
Michael James: You need to understand something, Barney. I’m not a patient man. So what I’m going to do right now is give you a choice. You can either decide to live with that choice or you can suffer the consequences. Are you ready?
Barney: No…my back hurts really bad…I can’t move…
Michael James: Alright. Consequences, it is.
* The cameras cut to the exterior of the house. A few seconds later the cameras move to a frame of the front window. Suddenly, the glass shatters by the force by Pattison’s body being tossed through the window from inside of the house. The front door opens and Michael James makes his exit with a casual stroll. He begins walking to his car as a few of the neighbors emerge from their homes to see what the noise is all about. Michael James pays no attention to the crowd of people moving towards the house as he opens the driver side door to his GTO. He gets inside of the car, closes the door and starts the engine. The car peels out of its parked position and quickly speeds down the street. The cameras cut to the interior view inside of the Pontiac to show James behind the wheel. He shifts the engine into third gear and slams his foot on the gas *
Michael James: Despite what Chelsea and Jason want to believe, I didn’t sign with the EoV to slander their personal reputations. They were the ones that decided to draw first blood and I reacted like any rational person would. If that’s the perception they want to live with then there isn’t much I can do to change their way of thinking. But then again, I don’t really give a shit about their pointless opinions. They aren’t the ones who turned the entire company upside down in the blink of an eye. That was me. They aren’t the ones leading the charge with an undefeated record. That’s me. Anything they have done in the past, I can do better in the present. You know why? It’s because I’m better than both Armstrong and Kaine combined. If I want something all I have to do is take it. I wanted to be recognized as the best and now I’m the World Champion. I was sick of listening to Dreadful run his mouth about senseless bullshit so I ended his career. It’s only going to be a matter of time until I’m sick of looking at Chelsea Armstrong and Jason Kaine. Hopefully, both of them will learn their place in the company before it comes to that.
* James looks in his rear view to see a few approaching police cars flashing their sirens at him. He takes a left hand turn and moves his car into a row of other cars that appear to be stuck in traffic *
Michael James: But just in case they want to force me to do things the hard way, I should have a lot of fun putting them both on the shelf the same way I have done to so many others. And yes, I know. They say it isn’t possible. But, you know what? I beg to differ. I say anything is possible and so far no one has been able to prove me wrong. They said I would never be a champion. They said I would never make it this far. I wonder what they would say if they knew I was just getting started. Then again, that would require having to listen to them speak and I sure as hell don’t want to be the one to fall on that grenade.
* The traffic moves forward and James is able to move through a heavy intersection before the police can track his position. He merges to the left and follows signs towards a private airport. A few seconds later he pulls his car into an underground parking garage and pulls into an empty space. He turns the engine off and steps out of the car. The sound of police sirens are heard blaring in the distance while James pops the trunk to collect his belongings. He removes an overnight bag and a camera tripod from the car and shuts the door of the trunk. He turns away from the car and casually moves out of frame. A cross fade cuts the scene to the interior setting of Michael’s lavish private jet. The cameras pan to the back of the jet to reveal James seated behind a full bar. He takes a sip from a glass filled with Bourbon as the cameras cut to a close up of the World Championship resting on the bar *
Michael James: Since the moment of my arrival in the Evolution of Violence, I have received nothing but disrespect. Sure, there are the select few that have recognized my talent and joined in my war against spineless douchebaggery. But when it comes to people like Chelsea Armstrong, Chase Michaels and Jason Kaide; mutual respect is a nothing more to them than a fucking joke. You know what I think about that? I think its bullshit. If I’m going to put worth one hundred and ten percent just to get spit in my face what is the point in keeping a positive attitude? I’m an asshole. People know this and they know it well. But what they fail to realize is they have only seen a small dose of the things I am capable of doing. When I ripped open David Dreadful I did it because it seemed like a good idea at the time. When I sent Caliban to the hospital I did it with nothing more in mind than my own sick amusement. These things are fun for me.
* He lifts the glass to his mouth and tilts some of the bourbon into his mouth *
Michael James: For people like Chelsea and Kaine, they’re the kind of things that nightmares are made of. And that’s yet another reason why I refer to the both of those cowards as weak minded competition. Sure, they can sit behind a camera and make empty promises about the pain they’re going to bring me. But we all know they’re both going to fall short when it comes time to deliver. Armstrong, allow me to give you some valuable advice. You aren’t a sadistic person. You’re an idiot. Do us all a favor and stick to what you’re good at because you’re starting to embarrass yourself. You’re the type of whore that runs at the first sign of blood. I’m not like that. I encourage the pain and suffering of others so your lies don’t intimate me in the slightest. If you want to stand toe to toe with the EoV World Champion you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.
* He reaches forward and holds up the Evolution of Violence World Championship so viewers can see the breastplate. It has his full name engraved at the bottom *
Michael James: Like I said before, I could care less about bringing shame to anyone. You two assholes do that well enough on your own and you obviously don’t need my assistance. If you act like professionals then you will be treated as such. Personally, I think that ship has sailed for both Kaine and Armstrong. You want to know why? It’s because neither one of you know the first thing about being in the same league as the Personification of Perfection. All you know how to do is talk a bunch of pointless shit hoping that it might get you somewhere. So far, it’s done nothing more but put you both in a situation you don’t want to be in. You’re going to war with the one guy you can’t possibly beat no matter how many secret weapons you add to your pathetic arsenal.
* He pours the rest of the bourbon down his throat and moves away from the bar stool. James inches forward and approaches a large window. He takes a moment to appreciate the view while securing the EoV World Championship around his waist. He turns back towards the camera and adjusts his sunglasses *
Michael James: I don’t need secret weapons. More importantly, I don’t need a disfigured crack whore by my side in order to achieve success. I have all the weapons I’m ever going to need to be the best in the business. If either one of you think you can prove me wrong then I fucking dare you both to try. I know you don’t have what it takes to get the job done. If you did then you would have done it already. Nothing you say will amount to a fucking thing until you go out there and do all the things you talk about. But you can’t do any of those things? Can you, Kaine? You know why? It’s because you aren’t half the man that you used to be. You’re a broken down, carbon copy of the man that was once feared and respected by everyone on the roster. Now, you’re just a weak bitch with no chance of actual success. That’s the best you will ever prove to be, Jason. You might not agree and you might not like it. But that’s just the way things are. Get used to it, asshole.
* James approaches the bar and taps his fingers on the counter. A few seconds later, an attractive blonde woman in her early twenties walks into frame wearing nothing but a black bikini top. She pours some bourbon into a glass and hands it to the EoV World Champion. He takes a sip of the bourbon and leans back against the bar *
Michael James: You keep blowing smoke out of your ass and I’m not the only one that can smell the bullshit, Kaine. I mean, you obviously haven’t moved any mountains. You haven’t claimed any serious victories or done anything worth mentioning. So why continue to foam at the mouth like a rabid dog when you know that no one is listening? It really makes no sense to me but if that’s what you want to do then more power to you, Jason. If you enjoy making an ass of yourself in front of the entire company there isn’t much I can do to stop you. To be honest, after reviewing your previous material I expected something different from the usual dog shit that I’m used to seeing week in and week out. You aren’t even approaching this confrontation from a professional standpoint and that’s the part that I’m worried about. Just think about something for a second.
* He picks up the glass and swivels the ice around the bottom of the glass. He pours some of the bourbon down his throat and pulls the glass away from his mouth *
Michael James: You tried to make amends with the fans by stabbing your best friends in the back. I don’t know about you Jason but that doesn’t sound like the behavior of a proper role model. If you want my opinion it sounds like the actions of a complete hypocrite. But I’m sure you’re used to that by now. People know how full of shit you are and that’s why they refuse to believe anything you say. I’m nothing like you, Kaine. I always tell the truth because I have no reason to lie to anyone. I told people what was going to happen at Un-Killable and now they’re starting to wonder if I have psychic abilities. You told everyone you were going to defeat Chelsea Armstrong in the Tai Pei Deathmatch and what happened? You tucked your testicles between your legs and lost the match like a bitch. As far as I’m concerned, you’re about as much as a threat to the Ultraviolent Nations as High Flying Hardcore is to my EoV World Championship.
* The camera pans down and reveals the EoV World Championship secured around his waist. Michael James finishes off his bourbon and slams the glass down on the counter *
Michael James: Do you want to know why I refuse to take you seriously, Kaine? It’s because you’re a fucking idiot. I refuse to acknowledge the words and opinions of the biggest imbecile in the company. Maybe if you had some actual accomplishments to mention but you don’t have any recent accomplishments. Do you, Jay? I didn’t think so. All you have is a mouthful of lackluster material that isn’t going to do anything for you in the long run. I hate to be the one to break it to you but that isn’t going to be enough to make it lowly past a piece of shit like Marco Valintine, let alone the Evolution of Violence World Champion. It doesn’t take a genius to see where all of this is going to lead you. I know you’ll tell me that I’m wrong because you’re “destined” to be this great mentor to the rest of the EoV roster and everything. But everyone knows that isn’t true. You want to know why? It’s because mentors don’t conduct themselves like spoiled fucking children. They don’t turn their back on their friends and expect to be rewarded for their treachery. Despite whatever bullshit you want to believe, Kaine, you’re no hero.
* James reaches inside of his jacket and pulls a butterfly knife from his pocket. He flips out the blade and tosses it across the room. The blade lands in the center of a dartboard using an image of Jason Kaine as the bulls eye *
Michael James: If anyone deserves the recognition of a person with heroic qualities it’s the Evolution of Violence World Champion, Michael James. When Kaine decided to tuck tail like a bitch and turn his back on the Nations, I was there to take up the pieces and maintain leadership of the faction. I was there to make you eat your fucking teeth when you talked down to the rest of us like we were a pack of clowns. The only fool in the entire company is you, Kaine. At Un-Killable, you fucked up and started a war that you will never win. What’s even worse is you decided to use Chelsea as a human shield because you know you can’t do it on your own. To be quite honest with you, I’m starting to grow tired of humiliating Armstrong. At this point, the only thing I could use from her is a slob on the knob as a sign of respect for everything she has learned from me. If she doesn’t want to do that I will have no choice but to grant her the same merciless regimen that put an end to Dick Bag Dreadful. It’s like I said before. Neither one of you hold any threat to the Ultraviolent Nations. At Chaos, you assholes will be batting practice for us.
* James turns his back to the camera and calls the bartender over to him. She casually approaches him and leans over the bar. James reaches behind the woman and unties the release on her bikini. A static interference cuts out the footage and a few seconds later the scene cuts to a solid black frame *
