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[Eleven Years, a legacy has been scattered around the world of wrestling. Eleven Long, brutal, blood dripping years. The man who raised the hardcore standards of wrestling to a new level, has now thrown it away, thrown away his style, thrown away his whole sense of belonging. Now he starts anew...an era of perfection....and you will never forget the name of Josh Sutton...]
A promo for FFW's upcoming show is airing on their network. The screen begins to go fuzzy and then goes black. "Perfection Productions" appears in gold sparkly letters apon the screen. The scene cuts to a man sitting behind a network desk. Man: We interrupt your boring regular scheduled programming for...ME! Josh Sutton, the living, breathing, walking legend. The Prince of Perfection, the sensation of new innovation, the Ic...well you get the idea. [Sutton tosses a stack of cue cards behind him and jumps over the table he's sitting at. Sutton rips the top off the table and throws it to the ground.] Sutton: I'm not going to do this sh&%. You, the FFW office and all the wrestlers can kiss my ass. I'm not following any rules here, this is my new stomping ground. I'm a star god damnit and I will do as I please. [Sutton walks around, pacing, shaking his head.] Sutton: We all know damn well who I am, we need no fancy introductions. So let's get right down to the point. For over a decade, I have busted my hump in this business, because that's exactly what it's become...nothing more than money, greed, and more money. For years, I watched young, talentless rookies come into the sport, making the big bucks. They sold no moves, yet they sold out shows. I didn't understand it. While I was dominating in the independents, working my way up the ladder, winning title after title after title, these talentless money hungry ticks were taking over the business I loved so much. When I finally made it to the big times, I began knocking off these little parasites left and right. [Josh Sutton turns his attention to the cameraman, who is sitting down in a chair, reading the first issue of Fear Factory Wrestling Monthly, with Adrian Trine on the front cover. Sutton walks over to him, but the Cameraman is deep in his reading. Sutton coughs.] Sutton: Excuse me...Excuse me. Hey, spanky. Cameraman: ..wow, this Adrian Trine guy looks like he could be a star. Sutton: What was that? Cameraman: Huh?! Oh you're still here. Can you shut that camera off when you're done? Sutton: Do I have bitch written on my shirt? Cameraman: What kind of question is that. Sutton: Oh I think it's a pretty reasonable question. Do I have bitch written on my shirt? Cameraman: No? Sutton: Then quit treating me like a bitch. Hey...what are you reading? Cameraman: Oh, just the new issue of Fear Factory magazine. Got a great article on Adrian Trine, I hear he's one of the grea.... Sutton: Give me that, and get out of my sight. [Sutton grabs the magazine from the cameraman and pushes him out of his seat, pointing toward the exit. As the cameraman walks off the scene, Sutton begins flipping through pages until he comes to a bright poster with Adrian Trine's mugshot on it. Sutton looks in disgust as he takes a seat where the cameraman was sitting.] Sutton: This is just what I was talking about. Intstead of Fear Factory Wrestling putting a legend on the cover, such as myself, they put a second rate penny grabber as the main attraction. FFW, you have a star standing right in front of your eyes, the best in the business easily and you put Adrian Trine on the front of the first magazine. I am insulted. You know Adrian, when it comes right down to it, you should be happy that they put you in the first issue, because they're going to need this centerfold to remember just what that pretty little face of yours looked like before you stepped into the ring with me. [Sutton tosses the magazine away and snickers.] Sutton: You know, Adrian, I sat down and watched your boring interview, and I have to say, I was not at the least impressed. In fact, you are everything that I thought and wanted you to be. An over-confident egoholic. Why you ask? Because your new to the ego game, it's a game I play quite well if I do say so myself. You're a hungry tiger looking for that first taste of blood but me, I've got the tranquilizers and the gun right in my pocket. It's nap time Trine. Sutton: But perhaps I am getting a little too confident...hmmm...nah, Adrian you were correct about one thing, atleast half of it. You said two of the greatest wrestlers in Fear Factory Wrestling are hitting it off in the first main event..Half right you were, but I'm afraid you just don't qualify as a "good" wrestler in The Superstar's book. You've maybe got alittle skill, but skill doesn't mean anything when it comes right down to it. When you are locked, in the middle of the ring, eye to eye, feet to feet, our breath on eachother, the gazes of the fans staggering to see who will throw the first punch, that's where it counts Trine. When we are in that incessent undertow, the first punch the first pop of the fans, the first count on the mat, that's where it's all going to matter. When I land the first shot, when you hear the crowd roar in approval, and you hit the mat and I lay apon your tattered carcass, the refs hand will come down for not a 1...2..., but instead the 1...2...3... Sutton: To defeat you means I am one wrestler closer to reshaping what wrestling should be. Strait-edge, no BS, violence. You bring your glitz and glamour, I'll bring my newly liberated insanity. Adrian Trine, while you are sitting with your brother playing your little console, I willbe here, masterminding, brainstorming, calculating the ways to celebrate my victory over you on Monday. So with that said, On monday when the water hits and pain surfaces there willbe nowhere for you to go but deep into the currents of my undertow...and that my friends is the end.. [The screen goes scratchy and begins to....] [~FADE TO BLACK
| "To women, I am like a drug....They can't get enough of me. Men envy what I have while their children look up to me as their hero." - Josh Sutton |