Post by Smith Jones on Feb 9, 2020 10:52:31 GMT -5
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~ OFF CAMERA ~
We see Smith Jones sitting in his personal locker room inside the original Bumpz Fight Club location in Las Vegas, Nevada. He is sitting on a steel folding chair dressed in gray sweatpants and a gray tee that reads ‘daddy issues’ on it in white lettering. He is replaying the end of his World Championship victory over Frank Patrick Venable over and over again on a large screen TV mounted on the wall.
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Clearwater: He’s not done yet! Smith Jones is set on making a point here tonight!
Remi: Fuck yeah, bro! Smith Jones is defending the honor of APW! And he’s sending the message loud and clear -- if you’re not APW, you ain’t shit!
Clearwater: I think it’s subtler than that, but -- WHOA!
Remi: I think you mean O! CANADIAN DESTROYER! Here’s the cover!
One!
Two!!
But somehow, some way, Venable gets the shoulder up! Frustrated, but not unduly, Jones helps Frank back up and sets him up for a snap suplex -- but Venable escapes and drops down behind Jones!
Clearwater: HOW DID HE DO THAT? Frank Venable with a brainbuster to Smith Jones! THIS HAS GOT TO BE OVER! Frank with the cover!
One!
Two!!
Remi: NO WAY BRO! Kickout at two! Smith Jones is inhuman!
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“Inhuman.”
Jones grabs hold of his left elbow and massages it all around the joint down the upper forearm and up to the triceps. He extends and bends the elbow repeatedly, trying to increase motility and decrease pain.
“Am I?”
He exhales a whispered chortle and shakes his head, still looking up at the screen. He grabs the remote and rewinds to the exact same moment. Play.
Clearwater: He’s not done yet! Smith Jones is set on making a point here tonight!
“Damned right I was making a point. I’ve been AP-Dub since day one. The World Title has always been mine.”
Remi: ...if you’re not APW, you ain’t shit!
“Harshly put. But, not bereft of truth. So glad I added that Canadian Destroyer to my repertoire. O Canada. I need to feature more Canadian moves. Canadian backbreaker? Not really my style. Hn. Note to self: see about improving your sharpshooter. Okay, this is the moment right here...”
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Damn.”
“Smitty! You wanted a consult on your elbow?”
He pauses the video just the moment before his head hits the dirt with that agonizing brainbuster. Jones opens the door to the face of...
“Copeland. What are you…?”
“I work here. I’m an apprentice trainer. I’m going to look at your--”
“When did I hire you? When did you move to Las Vegas?”
“A few days after you did, dad. And think about it. When's the last time you hired someone around here since you hired Dennis as head trainer? He runs this place these days, not you. You just train here.”
“I just--”
“I didn't mean for it to sound so… Training here has always seemed to work for you. You're the champ again, so… um… Your elbow?”
Smith stares at the wall and massages his left elbow again. Copeland unfolds a second steel chair and places it next to Smith’s.
“Are you qualified to--”
“Dad! Relax.”
“This elbow hasn’t been the same since I lost the--”
“XWA World Television Championship to Jake Rogers back in 2018. I know. That Patriot Act arm submission is legit. Dennis should be able to help you with this. You’ve... stopped wearing the brace.”
“People kept accusing me of loading it to gain an advantage in the ring. It tarnished my reputation, even if it was only perception. They simply can’t believe how damaging my Unexpected spinning back elbow can be. Jaw. Temple. Ear. It always drops ‘em.”
“Hn. Maybe use your right elbow for a while. Doubters be damned, right?”
“I get a better post off my right leg leading into a left elbow. I’m sure you know my left knee is weaker than my right. Working hurt is part of the game!”
They fall silent for a spell as Copeland examines Jones’ arm. He looks up at the still image of the brainbuster on the flatscreen.
“Honestly, it’s not your elbow I’m most concerned about. Nasty spill you took there. FPV. Not an easy match, eh?.”
“I’ll live.”
Jones yanks his arm away from Copeland.
“We done?”
“Yeah. Dennis should have a look at that too. I just wanted to--”
“Yeah. Haven’t seen you in a while. I know.”
“I’ll be here every day. They say ‘never meet your heroes’...”
Paused at the door, he takes a final glance at his father.
“I disagree.”
He shuts the door. Smitty stares at the frozen image of himself on the screen about to come crashing down on the top of his head. Smith presses play. He remembers the crushing pain on his cranium, the sudden compression in his neck, the white flash… He does not remember kicking out. He does not remember the cobra clutch bulldog in the dirt. He doesn’t remember kicking Frank Venable in the face and spinning him around into the Point of Controversy. He doesn’t remember--
“Winning the match? You still don’t remember it?!”
Jones’ heads whips to his mirror where his reflection scoffs at him.
“Still trying to deny me my existence, Smitty?”
Smith closes his eyes as tightly as he can.
“This isn’t happening.”
“But, it is. It really is, Smith. I’m back. I’ve been right here all along.”
Smith opens his eyes and stares at the mirror. His reflection lighty chuckles and sneers at Smith.
“All this time you thought you’d… I dunno, cured yourself of me?! How the #heel do you think you all of a sudden grew the intestinal fortitude to overcome someone as talented and focused as Frank Patrick Venable? That wasn’t you, honeybunch, that was ME!”
“No, no, no, no, no, no… This is that brainbuster. You are just slight head trauma come to life.”
“Sure, Smitty. That’s all it is. Call the trainers in here. Have them give you a once over. Better yet, go see a neurologist. Get them to slice me right out of your brain. Put you on meds. Dope you up real nice. Let’s see how long you hold onto the Alpha World Championship then!”
“You are not going to take this away from me!!! I won this match on my own! I’m Smith...”
“Yeah, and I’m Jones. You need me more than anyone knows. You need me more than YOU know. You think you can keep working these matches without breaking your body down? Your knee, your elbow, your back… You think you can keep doing Falls Count Anywhere matches in the desert forever without me??? I’m how you make it from week to week. I’m how you get up after someone drops you on your head yet again. I’m how you finish a top notch five star Main Event like the one you just had against FPV with another severe concussion and no memory of the finish. You took the week off from ring action last week because of the headaches. The only way you’re gonna toughen up and stick it out is through me. Doubt me, Smith.”
Smith turns his back to the mirror and pulls out his phone. Opening the camera, he hits record and makes a video in selfie mode.
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~ ON CAMERA ~
Fade up on a shot of Smith Jones sitting in his locker room inside the original Bumpz Fight Club location in Vegas.
“Who wouldn’t need the week off after winning the Alpha World Championship in such a brutal match? Who else wants to judge me for the way I run my career? Anyone?”
Jones gets up and grabs hold of the Alpha World Title belt, draping it over his shoulder. Smitty stands in front of his robe which hangs from a hanger on a hook on the wall. It is shiny and white with sparkly silver trim. On the back of the robe is a large number 6 done up nicely in elegant silver embroidery. Jones’ voice intensifies as he speaks.
“I still hear you, Luce. Talking a big game but not really able to lift a finger to make it look like you would ever really have a chance in a professional wrestling contest against the incredible Smith Jones. All I ever hear from you is TALK. Talk on social media. Talk in your grossly overrated promos. Y’know, I got caught up in the hype myself. I popped when you returned in the hashtag Alpha Rumble. I was watching you. I’ve been watching you very closely ever since.
That’s not necessarily a good thing; not necessarily bad either. I guess we’ll see.
You’re the North American Champion! And you beat Zombie McMorris to win it. Hey, I beat Zombie McMorris to win THIS the first time around. We both know what it’s like to beat ZMAC for gold!! Are we… is this a club?? Can I be president?! I mean, I did beat ZMAC for a title before you beat ZMAC for a title. I’ll have a logo designed. I’ll print tees.
‘I survived the McMorris apocalypse and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.’”
He chuckles to himself and then returns to a deadly serious tone.
“You know who isn’t in this club yet, Luce? Bonnie Blue. Bonnie made her APW debut on the second Monday Night Metal of the decade in that… hardcore event. Bonnie made the mistake of helping Zombie McMorris get his boots free. Shoulda left him nailed there. Maybe then he wouldn’t have come back to win the thing.
Bonnie doesn’t want to be dismissed. She doesn’t like to be ignored. It’s a sore spot for her. Much like hitting the actual gym is a sore spot for you, Lucy. And she has a valid point! She’s had a remarkable career to this point. But, the thing that’s going to keep her from beating me at the top of my game is her lack of consistency. I don’t know whether she has trouble with her training regimen, I dunno, maybe the ratings drop when she steps out there. I’m not really sure what’s been keeping Bonnie Blue from gaining any sort of momentum in this biz. It doesn’t matter. The simple fact of the matter is that I’m right here and I always have been.
I’ve been surviving… nay, I’ve been THRIVING in this environment. I’m on a veritable RAMPAGE. While others have come and gone, I’m weathering the storm. I’m carrying the banner. I’m right here putting in work as much as possible and putting Alpha Pro on the map! That’s why there’s an APW for you to come crawling back to, Luce.
I’m done talking to you. This part’s for Bonnie. Listen up!”
Smitty sits down again in his steel chair, glaring daggers down the lens at Bonnie Blue.
“Blue. I intend to make The Mexico Incident feel like a hangnail by comparison. You think you’re working smarter than I am by taking sparse bookings and saving your body for the times when it really matters. I hope you recognize that tomorrow night against ME is one of those times where you will need to step up your game and make good on the promises you’ve made to friends and family that everything is going to turn out fine. Because if you think you’re going to waltz in here and dominate your way to a victory over your Alpha Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion, you are desperately mistaken.
I wish I could say that this era in my career is the absolute best, but I can’t even say that. I’ve been great for a solid while now. I'm incredible most of the time. And sure, yeah, there are people out there who have legitimate crap to talk about me. I've experienced failure along the way. But, I am still… incredible. I can tie it up and grapple with the absolute best and come out on top the majority of the time. I can lose my cool and get hardcore when need be (despite my resistance to it) and I can rip holes in your epidermis and leave dents in your frame. This body is beaten and busted, but I still know how to lace up and show up every time they play my brand new theme song and aim the spotlights at the stage.
Rumours are a waste of time. You want truth? Always come to the source. The real reason I missed wrestling on last week’s show was that APW wrestlers are generally given that grace period after competing in championship matches. Especially matches as brutal and damaging as my Last Man Standing Match against FPV at 2020 Ways. Frank came here from Action Wrestling and attempted a hostile takeover of Alpha Pro Wrestling. I stood my ground and I pushed back with all my might and said NOT TODAY. You work in AW too, right Bonnie? So, you already know better than some of the APW faithful just how big a threat FPV really was to the state of affairs here in Alpha Pro. You can see that I am better than some of the best you’ve ever seen… from the backstage monitors on whatever show you’re sitting out at the time.
Tomorrow night, I am going to show you what happens when a hobby cat meets a dragon; when Bambi meets Godzilla. And when I turn The Daughter of Time into the Stepchild that Time Forgot, I will stand tall in the face of all my doubters as the only one in APW truly worthy of being known as your first-ever two-time Alpha Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion. Because it isn’t Bonnie Blue. And it sure as hell ain’t Lucy Sixx.
Sure, I’ll prove it again. Watch me.
Time and time again, they stumble into my sights and I take ‘em down.
I’m a rampage thriller....”
Fade to black.
“...and I intend to thrill again.”
