Post by Damian Kaine on Sept 26, 2021 2:38:23 GMT -5
“Silver Bullet Wrestling Academy: Where Dreams Become Reality!”
“And cut!”
The camera crew surrounding the ring begins to gather their equipment as DK steps through the ropes. He’s met on the outside by Sebastian Reid. Sebastian hands him a bottle of water as they all sit down.
“Never in my entire career did I expect to be filming a fucking commerial for a wrestling school.”
“You sure you’re up for this, DK? Believe me, I’ve been in your shoes before. Running a school like this is no easy task.”
“I think I got this. After all, I learned from the best.”
The three sit back and watch as two trainees enter the ring and begin to work out their movesets.
“So, how many people do you think this ad will attract?”
“Maybe a handful. Maybe more. The fans seem to like you, so they may flock to a school you teach at. That seems to be the way it goes.”
“Do ya think this could help me out with my current situation?”
“What, you mean buying the show? Dame, that’s a lot of money. You’d have to charge like 50 grand a head to even make a dent in that. It’s just unrealistic.”
“But with the money from AW… The money I’m making from the show… The money from the school… Maybe it’ll all work out. It could work out, right?”
Sebastian shakes his head.
“Look, man. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but don’t hold your breath. It’s a long shot.”
“I know…”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Fire away.”
“Why is this show so important to you?”
Damian sighs, and he pulls out his phone. He clicks through and opens the Messenger app, pulling up chat history with his mother.
“The Mercs books were my mom’s favorite. She’s the one that got me into them. When they announced that they were making a show about it, she was fucking ecstatic. She had all sorts of fantasy casting. Terry Crews as Sirocco von Balus, that sort of thing. It meant the world to her. So, when she passed, I saw this show as a chance to honor her. To make her proud. So, I drove out to LA and auditioned. When I got the part, I immediately went down to Statesboro and told her all about it. I’ve never been super close with my mom, so I wanted this to be the bridge we needed. Even post-mortem.”
“And you’ve made that. Isn’t that enough?”
“Nah, man. I gotta see this through to the end. If I give up now, it would feel like I’m failing her. And I quit failing her a long, long time ago.”
Reid puts a hand on Damian’s shoulder.
“Alright man, look. Keep the school running. But I wanna help you out.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Reid.”
“Dammit, Damian, for once in your life. ACCEPT HELP!”
“I never wanted to ask you, man. You’ve already done too much for me.”
“Listen, Damian. You’re like a son to me. You have been since you first stepped foot in APW all those years ago. You’ve helped me build my company from the ground up. You stopped Spencer Adams from firing me in UCI. You got me that commentary gig. You’ve spent your whole damn life helping people. Even when they fuck you over. Hell, you named your first born son after a man who stabbed you in the back. You’re a good man. You deserve a fucking break. So, no matter what you say, I’m helping you out. You’re getting this show, Damian. Because you deserve it. Do you understand me?”
Damian gets to his feet and paces, mulling everything over. He’s never been the one to ask for help, so Sebastian’s offering is a foreign concept.
“Alright… Fine. I’ll take your help. Just this once, and only because of the circumstances. So, how are you willing to help?”
Sebastian nods and smiles.
“I knew you’d come around. Alright, let me make a few calls. We’re going to get this situation sorted.”
With a sigh, Damian looks at his watch.
“Alright man. Thank you, truthfully. But I have to bounce. Gotta meet with some people about this match on Monday.”
“Ahh, six-man hardcore tag. Sounds fun. Good luck!”
“Thank you. Later man.”
Damian goes to walk out the door, but stops just before the threshold.
“And… Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
He smirks, then walks out the door.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
The camera opens to Damian Kaine with three dummies, each with the face of one of his opponents taped to it, in the kitchen area of the Compound.
“Two weeks ago, I would have told the AW universe that this was a one-and-done. Shane Striker and Beefer seemed like they would be a mosquito, but no. They’ve evolved into full-fledged leeches, latching onto CJ and myself and distracting us from our ultimate goals here in Action Wrestling. And that’s fine. Frankly, I needed a little action.”
“But this? This is fucking ridiculous. Beefer and Striker are so damn desperate for the slightest bit of attention that they enlisted an OCW reject to do something that they couldn’t. And, to them, it probably looks like it paid off.”
“That’s where they’re wrong.”
“Robbie Bigg Dick… Tell me you were a shithead in high school without telling me you were a shithead in high school. RBD, you tell us that you are the king of the deathmatch. There’s only one problem with that.”
“Sorry, buddy. That moniker is already taken. Copyrighted. And Corey Black is a million times the man that you’ll ever be. And even if Corey wasn’t in the picture, there is a plethora of the most hardcore wrestlers that have stepped foot in an AW ring that would fucking murder you in or out of the ring, and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Dandy DiVito. Max Daemon. Johnny Bacchus. CJ Phoenix.”
“And then there’s the most hardcore man I’ve ever had the misfortune of stepping in the ring with… Zombie McMorris. Robbie, you pale in comparison to the Honey Badger. So, take that misguided notion that you’re the king of anything in AW and put that shit on the shelf, because, until you’re pushing your fucking intestines back into your stomach and going on to win a match, there’s not a thing you can say that convinces me you’re anything but a poser.”
“Besides. Judging by your company, you’re more likely to be the king of curtain jerkers by the end of next week. I mean, really. Team Extreme? You decided to make your big debut on Clash, teaming with two of the biggest wastes of roster space in existence. It’s like you’re asking to be on the chopping block. But I can’t lie. You wanted to make a name. And a name you made. Bloodying up CJ and me in the middle of the ring. But, you see, that was a rookie mistake.”
“See, even without John Black, CJ and I have enough reason to end your entire fucking career before it even starts. You want to prove you’re hardcore enough to step to the former Hardcore champion? Well, this is your chance. But before Monday, let me just show you what you’re really up against.”
Damian walks around the serving table, pushing the dummies, and heads to the back and finds what used to be the butcher area, stopping near an empty meathook.
“The butcher section of my compound doesn’t exist anymore. But I wanted to keep these hooks, for a reminder. You see, Robbie, it was almost five years ago that I stood in this very compound and put an end to the first big rivalry of my mainstream career. A last man standing match, all over this very compound. No holds barred. And me? Well I took this-”
He grabs the meat hook and jams it into the shoulder of the Beefer dummy. He then proceeds to take another and shove it into the Striker dummy.
“And I almost took the man’s life. Because that’s what it took to win. Again and again. I dropped a tree on him. I strangled him with Christmas lights until the light left his eyes. We fought tooth and nail until we both crashed into an ambulance. And who came out standing tall?”
“Me.”
“So, CJ Phoenix may be the former hardcore champion. John Black may a hardcore prodigy. But Damian Kaine? Well, I’m a fucking loose cannon. I don’t mind pain, Robbie. Because I know that I give just as good as I get. And, while you may have inflicted some serious damage on Clash, you unlocked a side of Damian Kaine that nobody has seen in quite a long time. So, don’t think this is going to be easy. And damn sure don’t go spending that Clash check quite yet. Because, come Monday night? You’ll see that that money will be needed to pay some medical bills.”
Damian walks out of view for a moment, before coming back with a long, black metal baseball bat. He takes one swing at the RBD dummy and takes the head clean off as the camera fades out.
“Damian…”
Sebastian Reid sits in front of a stunned Damian and Ally Kaine.
“Are you good, man?”
“I told you not to do anything stupid!”
“Well, I’d hardly consider this stupid…”
“You bought the whole fucking show?! YOU! ALONE!”
“Well, I told you I was going to help you out. So, I made a few calls, and realized that I had the money to do it. I’m 67, dude. What am I going to need the money for?”
“Sebastian… I know he’s not saying it, but Damian really is thankful.”
“I know, Al. And here’s the kicker, Dame.”
“What’s that?”
“One signature and it’s all yours.”
“WHAT?!”
“Yep! Why would I want to own it?”
“Well…”
“No. it’s yours. Just one signature.”
Sebastian reaches into his bag and pulls out a contract, sligo into ding it to Damian.
“Just one signature?”
Damian and Sebastian look at one another.
“Just one.”
“Well…”
Damian looks to Ally, who smiles and nods.
“Here goes nothing!”
Damian reaches over and picks up a pen, signing the contract in one swift movement!
“And now… We celebrate.”
They all three stand up and embrace as the camera fades out.
“And cut!”
The camera crew surrounding the ring begins to gather their equipment as DK steps through the ropes. He’s met on the outside by Sebastian Reid. Sebastian hands him a bottle of water as they all sit down.
“Never in my entire career did I expect to be filming a fucking commerial for a wrestling school.”
“You sure you’re up for this, DK? Believe me, I’ve been in your shoes before. Running a school like this is no easy task.”
“I think I got this. After all, I learned from the best.”
The three sit back and watch as two trainees enter the ring and begin to work out their movesets.
“So, how many people do you think this ad will attract?”
“Maybe a handful. Maybe more. The fans seem to like you, so they may flock to a school you teach at. That seems to be the way it goes.”
“Do ya think this could help me out with my current situation?”
“What, you mean buying the show? Dame, that’s a lot of money. You’d have to charge like 50 grand a head to even make a dent in that. It’s just unrealistic.”
“But with the money from AW… The money I’m making from the show… The money from the school… Maybe it’ll all work out. It could work out, right?”
Sebastian shakes his head.
“Look, man. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but don’t hold your breath. It’s a long shot.”
“I know…”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Fire away.”
“Why is this show so important to you?”
Damian sighs, and he pulls out his phone. He clicks through and opens the Messenger app, pulling up chat history with his mother.
“The Mercs books were my mom’s favorite. She’s the one that got me into them. When they announced that they were making a show about it, she was fucking ecstatic. She had all sorts of fantasy casting. Terry Crews as Sirocco von Balus, that sort of thing. It meant the world to her. So, when she passed, I saw this show as a chance to honor her. To make her proud. So, I drove out to LA and auditioned. When I got the part, I immediately went down to Statesboro and told her all about it. I’ve never been super close with my mom, so I wanted this to be the bridge we needed. Even post-mortem.”
“And you’ve made that. Isn’t that enough?”
“Nah, man. I gotta see this through to the end. If I give up now, it would feel like I’m failing her. And I quit failing her a long, long time ago.”
Reid puts a hand on Damian’s shoulder.
“Alright man, look. Keep the school running. But I wanna help you out.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Reid.”
“Dammit, Damian, for once in your life. ACCEPT HELP!”
“I never wanted to ask you, man. You’ve already done too much for me.”
“Listen, Damian. You’re like a son to me. You have been since you first stepped foot in APW all those years ago. You’ve helped me build my company from the ground up. You stopped Spencer Adams from firing me in UCI. You got me that commentary gig. You’ve spent your whole damn life helping people. Even when they fuck you over. Hell, you named your first born son after a man who stabbed you in the back. You’re a good man. You deserve a fucking break. So, no matter what you say, I’m helping you out. You’re getting this show, Damian. Because you deserve it. Do you understand me?”
Damian gets to his feet and paces, mulling everything over. He’s never been the one to ask for help, so Sebastian’s offering is a foreign concept.
“Alright… Fine. I’ll take your help. Just this once, and only because of the circumstances. So, how are you willing to help?”
Sebastian nods and smiles.
“I knew you’d come around. Alright, let me make a few calls. We’re going to get this situation sorted.”
With a sigh, Damian looks at his watch.
“Alright man. Thank you, truthfully. But I have to bounce. Gotta meet with some people about this match on Monday.”
“Ahh, six-man hardcore tag. Sounds fun. Good luck!”
“Thank you. Later man.”
Damian goes to walk out the door, but stops just before the threshold.
“And… Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
He smirks, then walks out the door.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
The camera opens to Damian Kaine with three dummies, each with the face of one of his opponents taped to it, in the kitchen area of the Compound.
“Two weeks ago, I would have told the AW universe that this was a one-and-done. Shane Striker and Beefer seemed like they would be a mosquito, but no. They’ve evolved into full-fledged leeches, latching onto CJ and myself and distracting us from our ultimate goals here in Action Wrestling. And that’s fine. Frankly, I needed a little action.”
“But this? This is fucking ridiculous. Beefer and Striker are so damn desperate for the slightest bit of attention that they enlisted an OCW reject to do something that they couldn’t. And, to them, it probably looks like it paid off.”
“That’s where they’re wrong.”
“Robbie Bigg Dick… Tell me you were a shithead in high school without telling me you were a shithead in high school. RBD, you tell us that you are the king of the deathmatch. There’s only one problem with that.”
“Sorry, buddy. That moniker is already taken. Copyrighted. And Corey Black is a million times the man that you’ll ever be. And even if Corey wasn’t in the picture, there is a plethora of the most hardcore wrestlers that have stepped foot in an AW ring that would fucking murder you in or out of the ring, and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Dandy DiVito. Max Daemon. Johnny Bacchus. CJ Phoenix.”
“And then there’s the most hardcore man I’ve ever had the misfortune of stepping in the ring with… Zombie McMorris. Robbie, you pale in comparison to the Honey Badger. So, take that misguided notion that you’re the king of anything in AW and put that shit on the shelf, because, until you’re pushing your fucking intestines back into your stomach and going on to win a match, there’s not a thing you can say that convinces me you’re anything but a poser.”
“Besides. Judging by your company, you’re more likely to be the king of curtain jerkers by the end of next week. I mean, really. Team Extreme? You decided to make your big debut on Clash, teaming with two of the biggest wastes of roster space in existence. It’s like you’re asking to be on the chopping block. But I can’t lie. You wanted to make a name. And a name you made. Bloodying up CJ and me in the middle of the ring. But, you see, that was a rookie mistake.”
“See, even without John Black, CJ and I have enough reason to end your entire fucking career before it even starts. You want to prove you’re hardcore enough to step to the former Hardcore champion? Well, this is your chance. But before Monday, let me just show you what you’re really up against.”
Damian walks around the serving table, pushing the dummies, and heads to the back and finds what used to be the butcher area, stopping near an empty meathook.
“The butcher section of my compound doesn’t exist anymore. But I wanted to keep these hooks, for a reminder. You see, Robbie, it was almost five years ago that I stood in this very compound and put an end to the first big rivalry of my mainstream career. A last man standing match, all over this very compound. No holds barred. And me? Well I took this-”
He grabs the meat hook and jams it into the shoulder of the Beefer dummy. He then proceeds to take another and shove it into the Striker dummy.
“And I almost took the man’s life. Because that’s what it took to win. Again and again. I dropped a tree on him. I strangled him with Christmas lights until the light left his eyes. We fought tooth and nail until we both crashed into an ambulance. And who came out standing tall?”
“Me.”
“So, CJ Phoenix may be the former hardcore champion. John Black may a hardcore prodigy. But Damian Kaine? Well, I’m a fucking loose cannon. I don’t mind pain, Robbie. Because I know that I give just as good as I get. And, while you may have inflicted some serious damage on Clash, you unlocked a side of Damian Kaine that nobody has seen in quite a long time. So, don’t think this is going to be easy. And damn sure don’t go spending that Clash check quite yet. Because, come Monday night? You’ll see that that money will be needed to pay some medical bills.”
Damian walks out of view for a moment, before coming back with a long, black metal baseball bat. He takes one swing at the RBD dummy and takes the head clean off as the camera fades out.
“Damian…”
Sebastian Reid sits in front of a stunned Damian and Ally Kaine.
“Are you good, man?”
“I told you not to do anything stupid!”
“Well, I’d hardly consider this stupid…”
“You bought the whole fucking show?! YOU! ALONE!”
“Well, I told you I was going to help you out. So, I made a few calls, and realized that I had the money to do it. I’m 67, dude. What am I going to need the money for?”
“Sebastian… I know he’s not saying it, but Damian really is thankful.”
“I know, Al. And here’s the kicker, Dame.”
“What’s that?”
“One signature and it’s all yours.”
“WHAT?!”
“Yep! Why would I want to own it?”
“Well…”
“No. it’s yours. Just one signature.”
Sebastian reaches into his bag and pulls out a contract, sligo into ding it to Damian.
“Just one signature?”
Damian and Sebastian look at one another.
“Just one.”
“Well…”
Damian looks to Ally, who smiles and nods.
“Here goes nothing!”
Damian reaches over and picks up a pen, signing the contract in one swift movement!
“And now… We celebrate.”
They all three stand up and embrace as the camera fades out.