02/25 NOTI II - World Heavyweight Championship

[+Donald $. Carlos+]

CCW World Heavyweight Championship
Fatal 4 Way Match:

"Big Daddy"
Josh Violence (C)

vs.

Lancelot
"Lance"
Leonard

vs.

Paul Hill

vs.

"The Lion"
Thomas Richards

The longest reigning World Heavyweight Champion in CCW history, Josh Violence has seemingly conquered every major adversary at his disposal. This problem had become so apparent, in his eyes, that Violence initially refused to defend his Championship at the biggest show of the calendar year; going so far as to cause a no-contest finish to the #1 Contender's match between Paul Hill and Lance Leonard on the latest edition of Unleashed.

Unbeknownst to the X-Rated Superstar, however, Thomas Richards was back in the picture; using his superior skills to thwart the Body Count's plan, and have a match of the century made in the process. Because of his persistence, 3 of the most deserving men in the company will vie for a reign as the most prestigious Championship in sports, or sports entertainment; the CCW World Heavyweight Championship.

But will they have the collective tenacity to end the dominant Champion's reign of terror? Is such a feat even possible?

Find out by watching the main-event of "Night Of The Immortals II".

(2 Promos Each; Now Let's DO The Damn Thing!)

[Moeru Toukon]

INT. BACKSTAGE AREA


Lion and Nick Kelly stand backstage and the crowd is overcome with a huge pop when they see Lion’s face appear on the titan tron. His name is chanted throughout the arena, and Kelly takes some time before they settle.

Kelly: Lion, tonight is the most important night of your career. What feelings do you have going into this match?

Lion: Lance Leonard…Paul Hill…Josh Violence…Thomas Richards. Four mean at each corner of the squared circle, fighting for one prize, for one title. I don’t know what will be the outcome. All I do know is I will bleed, sweat, burn and be burned. I will take names, I will drop men on their heads, I will make this a night of ONE immortal. That title hangs in the balance and all I have to do is reach out and grab it. I will do all these things in front of millions of people and I’ll love every second of it.

The crowd go wild as Lion grins down the camera, fired up and ready to go.

Lion: There’s one difference between me and the rest. They’ve all held that gold, been to the top…but I have only tasted it. Maybe that means something, I dunno, maybe I’m destined to take the gold. Maybe I’m here to give the hospital three extra patients. I sat in there for a month, bloody, bruised, being stitched up from feet to head. I thought of where that knife had been, what parts of my head (starts prodding his temple) those bats and sticks cracked against. And then I thought of Josh Violence’s face staring down at me…I thought of what I’d do to him if I saw him one more time…I’d rip that title from his waist on the grandest stage of them all and show everyone who the best is. I’d taste the gold, lift it high and smile through the red fog, the swelled eyes.

The crowd pops once more, and he stops awhile, sucking it in.

Lion: Leonard, we have unfinished business. I want to pin you in the middle of the ring clean, we’ve never settled it and now we have a chance. Paul Hill, I’ve studied every move you make, every technique you use in every match you have ever competed in. You’re an amazing talent, a star, a technician, a realist. I’m the British Lion, I will bring you down.

The crowd roars, in awe of a Hill and Lion showdown that could occur.

Lion: Tonight, I go in with millions watching, kids at ringside and the three best in the business standing before me. I walk out the CCW World Heavyweight champion.

STEP into the Lion’s Den!

Crowd: Hear my roar!

Lion walks off screen, leaving an excited Nick Kelly with the microphone.

[JimmyJackJericho]

The camera cuts backstage, where Paul Hill is doing pull-ups in a the doorway to his lockerroom. Hill is in his ring gear, and as the camera watches, finishes his set before dropping down. His face deep in thought, the grizzled veteran sits on a bench and stares at his hands, running through game plans, strategies and scenarios.

As he does, Nick Kelly slithers into the room, looking a little anxious.

Kelly: Paul Hill, in a few short moments, you will face British Lion, Lance Leonard and the Champion, Josh Violence for the CCW World Heavyweight Championship. How are you feeling?

Hill doesn't move from his stance, but speaks anyway.

Hill: Nick, this company has been through a lot together. And in the coming weeks, it will go through a lot more. But there has always been one constant in Continental Championship Wrestling, one constant in this business. Me. When you think back the days this company was in it's infancy, the most prominent name on the roster was Paul Hill. And when I finally made my return to professional wrestling, it was the biggest news in company history.

And ever since then, the company has grown, and grown, and grown. And at the forefront of that growth, has been Paul Hill. And who better to lead this company through yet another transitional period, than me? You see, last week, I was a beaten man, a man that was contemplating retirement. And as I was locked in the Kraken, and the life was slowly ebbing from my body, I was about ready to quit. To tap out, and then walk out.

But as I was about to slap the mat, I realised I wasn't done. If the highlight moment of my career is getting slapped around by an impotent trucker, I'm clearly not done with it yet. And so I find myself here, tonight. About to go in to the biggest match of my life, with renewed focus. With renewed dedication. When that bell rings, and my arm is raised, complete with the World Heavyweight Championship, the company will once again be in the safest of hands. The title will mean more than it ever has.

So you see, without disrespecting any of my opponents, tonight is MY night. It's a chance for redemption, and a chance for evolution. The evolution of Paul Hill ends tonight. The evolution of CCW begins tonight. They say change is good.

They ain't seen nothing yet.

Kelly looks confused as Hill gets up and walks out of the room.

[+Donald $. Carlos+]

PREVIOUSLY RECORDED:

A camera fades in from black, and the scene opens up on a wide-screen shot of a vast field containing several different sections of cemetery plots. Its location is so indefinite that one can only begin to describe the area as sitting in the proverbial middle of nowhere.

A light, steady drizzle pours down upon the withered grass from the darkened clouds above as the cameraman slowly pans his piece of machinery the breadth of the barren necropolis; an occasional watermark obstructing the general view of the land, which ultimately complements the mood encompassing the view. After a few moments of this, however, a quick cut brings the attention of the viewers to a wooded area that outlines the deserted countryside . . .

Once the picture is stationary, from a grounded point-of-view, the audience inside the Georgia Dome is treated to a shot of three headstones lined-up in a horizontal row along the freshly soiled dirt. Chiseled on the front of either tablet are the names, in alphabetical order, that correspond with each one of the three challengers scheduled to compete in the Fatal 4 Way match for the CCW World Heavyweight Championship. Sitting in front of each one is an object that identifies with each particular person; a “Real Men Cry . . .” T-shirt for Lance Leonard, a bottle of Rogaine for Paul Hill, and a cricket bat for Thomas Richards.

Behind those grave markers are two evenly spaced cinderblocks, both of which are supporting a standard redwood casket that sits atop their base and becomes visible as the camera begins to pan upward. Also coming into view, as this happens, amidst a slight uproar, is the dangling left leg of one Heather St. Clair; the Unleashed brands resident “Hardcore Harlot”. She is seated along the closed lid of the coffin, right leg crossed over the other, smirking malevolently into the buzzing glass lens in front of her; glasses propped up as to protect her eyes from the rain, which has already slightly dampened her unnecessarily skimpy attire in the process. As the camera pans out to compliment the size of the screen, she reaches into the front left breast pocket of her jacket to take possession of a single cigarette, and a lighter, before placing it in the right corner of her mouth. She then flicks the ball of the lighter, waits for the sparks to form a flame, and then uses it to light the opened end of the smoking device, and take a quick drag, before clearing her throat to speak:

St. Clair: “Life is a truly precious idea . . .

On one hand, it is believed to be the greatest gift one could ever hope for. On the other, it is seen as nothing more than a privilege; one continuous responsibility that is destined to fail from the beginning. A tad ironic, really, considering how hard one is to start, and easy to finish . . . but, nevertheless, the very proposal is an elite perk to behold.”

St. Clair pauses to take another drag, and thoroughly exhale toward the sky, before tapping her index finger along the filter to flick away the buildup of ash. She then takes another drag, slowly uncrosses her legs, and then places the left over the right before exhaling the second time; using the position of her lips to transition directly into the next sentence:

St. Clair: “Such a perk is not as exclusive as other such benefits, however. It is more inclusive than anything else the human mind can even begin to fathom. It is the one experience that we, as an entire race, are able to share; the one thing that, when it all boils down to it, is completely identifiable amongst each and every person no matter what. So, keeping this in mind, it should come as no shock that the very notion of existence is to thrive toward the obtainment of life’s other, more materialistic perks, as well.

To want is to aspire, and to aspire is to dream; and dreams represent those achievements that one wants to accomplish the most before their life comes to a screeching halt. Dreams are so desirable that the people who wish for them would give up any and everything possible just to call them an actual achievement. Unfortunately for most, things don’t always work out for the best; as is especially the case for three very unlucky souls come Sunday, February the twenty fifth . . .”

It is at this very moment in time that St. Clair pauses to take yet another, more emphatic drag from the slowly burning square before flicking it to the ground, and off-screen. She then shifts her weight toward the right, and lies against the wood by the point of the elbow; using it to support her head and neck as she looks to something unrecognizable toward her left.

Moments later, “Big Daddy” Josh Violence walks on-screen from the right side with a shovel in the balled up fist of his right hand. He is dressed in his ring-attire, with the CCW World Heavyweight Championship title belt wrapped firmly around his waist; his demeanor represented ideally with a scowl as he eventually comes to a stop in front of the coffin, but behind the headstones. He pats the faceplate of the big gold belt with is free left hand, and then allows his body to slump back comfortably against the edge of the strongbox as St. Clair proceeds to trace her left index finger through the hair along the back of his head. Violence then hocks a luhgie toward the ground, licks his lips, and picks up where his beau had intentionally left off; all the while keeping his eyes aimed toward his feet:

Violence: “The problem with dreams are just that; they’re dreams. Aspirations which aren’t entirely feasible, or conceivable, once put into a particular set of circumstances, no matter how much effort is involved. Aspirations which one has no real control over, and aren’t even certain will ever come to fruition provided they have the ability to even begin to strive toward them, in the first place. And when a person fails to realize their dreams, it can have an everlasting effect on whatever amount of time left they have to experience their life. In essence; the will that they have to achieve gradually deteriorates, until they are left a twisted, lifeless individual, who stumbles about the rest of their natural existence with nothing to guide them any further . . .”

Violence then stabs the sharpened end of the shovel into the ground behind the middle headstone, and the soil is so wet and compact that it holds the tool up completely vertically; almost making it seem as though it is to represent a particular symbol. He then turns his back toward the camera to face St. Clair, and takes her into his arms as she once again pushes into a sitting stance against the lid; gently placing her feet first along the ground, and then stepping forward to resume his statement as she begins fumbling with the lock along the outside of the coffin. He looks straight into the camera as he speaks, this time, and each word is spoken with more emotion than the one that preceded it:

Violence: “I’m one of the very few to have actually realized my biggest dreams, and the feeling is indescribable. Not only am I involved with a gorgeous female, and not only am I the most dominant wrestler in CCW . . . but I’m the World Heavyweight Champion, to boot. I represent this company as the ideal performer; the man that every other wrestler in the back should strive to be . . .”

Violence pauses as St. Clair struts around the first headstone, bends over to taunt the camera, and takes possession of the Lance Leonard T-shirt. She then does this same thing with the bottle of Rogaine, and the cricket bat, before rounding the third headstone in order to walk back toward the now opened casket. The viewers can see her placing each item inside along the upholstery as Violence continues . . .

Violence: “I have demolished, and steamrolled over every competitor placed before me in a manner that will more than likely never be equaled. I am the master of the mind game . . . an opportunistic leviathan . . . and most importantly, I am afraid of nothing. I regret none of the decisions I have made throughout my years on this planet, no matter what the cost, as they have all led up to this very moment that I am currently experiencing. As far as my opponents are concerned, however; they have yet to feel real pain. They have yet to suffer in a any significant manner, and that all stops at Night Of The Immortals II.

I will not relinquish this Championship by any means other than death; and that is a promise. It matters not what you bring at me, for I will overcome its effect . . . it matters not what you do to me, for I will fight through the pain like I have never done before . . . and it matters not what you hope to accomplish, for any and all efforts extended have already been rendered useless.”

St. Clair pulls a can of lighter fluid into view from inside the casket, unscrews the lid, and begins pouring the liquid throughout the width of the box; all the while making sure to cover each of the objects, before dumping the container in as well, and walking around to the other side until she is no longer visible . . .

Violence: “So it has been written, and so it shall come to pass, that the dreams of my adversaries will lie, broken, beneath the grass . . .

In victory, I retain my life’s work. I achieve immortality, and go down in history as one of the greatest to ever step foot inside a ring of any kind. In defeat, my challengers are reduced to nothing more than a mere statistic. Their will broken, their dreams shattered . . . and their souls taken into my possession.

I will own them for the rest of eternity; for in the end, they are all just another number in the Body Count. I will slay the monster . . . I will pull the plug on one man’s already dying career . . . and with God as my witness, I WILL put the Lion down for good. And there is nothing that anyone can do to stop me.

Come Sunday, February the twenty fifth . . . I can’t be held accountable for my actions. You’ve all been forewarned; and failure to heed said warning is not only foolish, but a certifiable death wish . . .”

St. Clair struts back out from behind the camera, stops at Violence’s left side, and places the end of a joint in-between his lips before producing a Zippo lighter. Violence takes possession of the lighter, sparks the flame, uses it to light the opened end of the joint, inhales deeply, and then tosses the lighter into the casket; both he and St. Clair watching on from a safe distance as the casket erupts into a torrent of flames.

WHOOSH

Violence then places his right index finger and thumb against St. Clair’s chin, guides her head back as so she can look into his eyes, and exhales the smoke passionately into her mouth with a shotgun; using the synchronized shadows that bounce along their bodies with the movement of the flames as the perfect transition into the end of the segment.

The feed is ultimately cut, and the screen:

Fades 2 Black . . .

[OfLegend]

Training montage of Lance Leonard doing pull ups, sit ups, crunches and jogging, interchanged by talking head interview segments, plays as he speaks in a voice over

Leonard: My entire life... I've dedicated myself to something. I can't say I've never been distracted by pleasures of the mind and flesh, just like I can't claim to have never let a muscle go slack, or never go a day without training. However, what people fail to realise, is that talent, both physical and mental... it's innate. A man can lose himself in the complexities of Shakespeare, knowing, even as he enjoys it, its power to kill any aspirations dead, knowing that he could train his mind for a hundred years and never write anything that even came close. A man can watch a great sportsman like Muhammad Ali chisel and pick away at an opponent's face until the decimation becomes art, and from then on never set foot in a boxing ring again, because he has seen the summit reached... while those in the pantheon of greats feel the sport or the art or the literature naturally running through their veins as I do.

The video changes pace, now showing Muy Thai sparring sessions and amateur wrestling involving Leonard.

Leonard: And yet, there are those still who would doubt me. Those still who fail to realise they are watching The Man, of his generation, of his sport, step between those ropes every night I go out there. The Man who has been lying in wait this entire time, displaying immense talent but still, perhaps because of some mental block, either subconscious or strategic, holding that little bit back. The Man who has the potential to transcend professional wrestling and become Myth... become of Legend.

Again the video changes focus, showing Leonard getting beaten down by Josh Violence and Body Count.

Leonard: But no longer will I hold anything back. Something has awoken inside of me. Every right hand, every chair shot delivered by Josh Violence and his brothel of mediocrity has been measured, and will be turned back tenfold.

We see images of the Monsters of Pro Wrestling in their prime, dark promotional shots of Leonard and destructive beat downs of Nathan Versus and the like. Blood and laughter.

Leonard: The Monsters of Pro Wrestling are no more, but the Monster lives within me still. A demon living on the brink of my soul haunts my sleep. I stare into the abyss, and my reflection, the eyes of the dragon, stare back at me. I wander between two worlds... one dead, one powerless to be born... until tonight. When that bell rings, Lance Leonard is no longer a contender for a championship. He will be the very Nemesis of the title and everything it represents. I am eager, hungry... so hungry to take that belt and taint it once more so that it bears the mark of my dark cabal, the mark upon the heart of every man who has ever dared to desire something so much that when the moment is right, he will put his very humanity aside to claim it.

Switch to Leonard's face, still, and clouded in darkness

Leonard: What I do is not a joke. Since the first Neanderthal conspired to murder his Cro-Magnon neighbour and the two fought for their lives, wrestling has been bound to the human soul, a show of spirit, an art far purer than any other... and until Josh Violence, Paul Hill and Thomas Richards realise this, I will be invincible. Tonight, wrestling is the essence of what I am. I am the demon, the dragon, the Nemesis made flesh, a reflection of every champion throughout history that they are too timid to gaze upon for too long. And that is beyond mere dreams. That is beyond Fact. Tonight, I am professional wrestling.

And I will NOT... BE... DENIED.