Post by Andrew Barnes on Sept 27, 2020 9:38:31 GMT -5
part one
Detroit, Michigan
Andrew Barnes' Apartment
09/26/2020
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A clock hand ticking opens up the scene, we find Andrew Barnes shadow boxing in the nude in his bedroom. The sun shines through the blinds, leaving vertical lines of light all across the bedroom and Andrew. Sweat rolls down his body, just having burnt through a ton of pushups, crunches, and jumping jacks to start the day; he finishes with some light cardio of shadow boxing.
"Only two more days." Andrew grunts between jabs.
"America Jackson." He uppercuts the air, "The fucker is going down." Finishing with a couple of swings.
Andrew stops, the camera cuts to a shot of his back, as Andrew Barnes stares into a full-size mirror on the closet doors. His hair still a mess, Andrew smirks while looking at his body.
"That title is as good as mine!" He swipes some sweat off his chisel abs. "A beautiful spot for it, too. Just perfect."
With his ego rising every day, Andrew Barnes is close to fulfilling his promise on taking Alpha Pro to the next level. You couldn't even pry that smirk off his face with a crowbar. Andrew is riding high, and it shows as he starts to flex for the mirror.
"Yeah." Andrew flexes his right arm, veins pulsating down every inch of his arm.
"That joke. That stupid fucking joke. Doesn't America know what he's up against!?" Andrew turns so his back is showing up in the mirror... And to flex some more.
"I CAN'T WAIT!" He snaps his chest back towards the mirror, slapping it with his right fist to pump himself up.
"THIS IS IT!"
"Is it?" A voice rings inside Andrew's head.
"Wah.." He stops for a moment, shakes his head, and returns to the mirror... "What the fuck?" Andrew stares into the mirror, but his mirror self has his back turn to Andrew.
Andrew rubs his eyes, "What.. Johnny didn't put anything in my water, did he?" Andrew slowly reaches out to the mirror, touching the cool, reflective surface; Andrew wonders, "What kind of mirror is this?"
"Nothing special." The mirror Andrew chuckles, turning to the real Andrew Barnes who steps back in amazement and confusion.
"Alright.. Johnny definitely put something in my water, because this fucker in the mirror is talking to me." Andrew remarks to himself, about to turn away. "Dude.. You're a fucking joke." The mirror keeps repeating to Andrew until he stops and looks back. Staring back at him... Himself. Andrew Barnes in the mirror smiles, waving back at the real one; his eyes wide open to the voice.
"The downfall of many men in the past can be linked to the size of their egos, Andrew. Keep yours in check."
"But.."
"No. Listen. Don't underestimate America Jackson. His brutality in the ring is the reason he made it to the top. What he left behind was weak opponents for you to clean up. This is nothing to brag about, Andrew. Nothing to gloat about. You are only here because America Jackson has made Alpha Pro weak. A man that left nothing but destruction."
"Nothing but pain." The mirror whispers intensely, repeating over and over again.
Andrew grabs his ears, hoping to stop the whispers, "STOP!" He yells.
The whispers stop. What follows is a raspy burst of laughter.
"This.. This is what you claim will stop America Jackson? You're weak. Always has been. Always will be."
Andrew's eyes open a little, uncovering his ears to stare up at the mirror, "That voice.." He looks deeply, "Da.. Dad?"
What once was a mirror self of Andrew Barnes junior... Now, a haze of smoke fills inside the reflection.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A slow slap comes from inside the mirror, as the light from a cigarette being hit goes off in the smoke.
"My boy.." Andrew Barnes Sr. walks through the smoke, ash flying around him as he claps with a cigarette in hand. His hair slick with grease, face resembling the surface of the moon with all the craters, and his sunglasses covering his eyes with a thick beard.
"So glad to finally get through to you, boy." Andrew Sr. laughs.
"Huh?"
"Huh?" Andrew Sr. mocks his son. "Is that really all you have to say?"
"You know. I helped you sooooo much here."
Andrew shakes his head, "Help me? Fuck off!"
"There he is! And yes. Help you. How do you think you got to where you are today? You didn't get those wrestling genes from that crackhead mother of yours, I tell you that! And who helped you push ALL that rage to eleven? Which in turn made you a beast in that fucking ring and to anyone in your path!? I DID!"
Rubbing his eyes once again, hoping the image of his father goes away in the mirror. No good.
"What the fuck. I'm gonna kill Johnny!"
Andrew Sr. taps the glass from the other end, "Quit it. He didn't do shit.. Well.. He did piss in your coffee-machine."
"What?!"
"Uh.. Just buy a new one. Don't matter. What matters is that I'm here to finally give you that last piece of advice to help you defeat Amer... Ameri..."
"What are you talking about?"
"You..." Some static noise in-between, "You have to.."
Suddenly, an alarm goes off and the scene cuts away and back to Andrew Barnes waking up in bed. He slams the snooze button down and rolls to his back, watching the ceiling fan spin around- gathering himself from the short nightmare he just had.
He sits up in his bed, "Thank god that was a short one this time." Andrew wipes some sweat from his forehead.
The light shines through the blinds, hitting Andrew in the eyes.
"Fuck that's bright."
The light slowly dims a bit when clouds move in front of the sun. Andrew coughs a bit, grabbing hold of a tissue to catch any black chunks for if they fly out when coughing. Hate that shit as a smoker. He slides his legs to the side of the bed, letting them hang off, dangling above the cool, wooden floor.
"Fucking shit." Andrew looks at the clock on the desk next to him. "These fucking nightmares are messing up my routine!" Andrew plops to the ground and starts doing pushup after pushup. A faint glow in his eyes, almost ember like, as the reflection of the wooden floor gleams in his eyes.
"Fuck America. Fuck Andrew Barnes." Andrew mentions between the pushups, as the scene fades to black from an above shot of Andrew Barnes killing it with those sweet pushups.
What? Where? Who?
America Jackson... Where are you?
I know I'm late to the party as well... But I'm not the one defending a title here. That's on you, America. Always late to the fucking party. Always thinking that you can just phone it in, get that easy win because you wrestled clones of Jason Ryan's here for so long. Not anymore, you see the future, America.
It's one where that title of yours. No. Not the worthless North American. THE TITLE. The title that everyone wants in any federation. The prize that everyone NEEDS to keep relevant in this day and age of recycled bullshit. Oh look, America has henchmen! That's so cool!
Pft.
My Uncle Johnny Legend had those waaaaay back then. Two of them came out last Metal. So... You're like him, eh? A weakling that NEEDS help to get those victories? Or, what Johnny would say... A BLOCKHEAD!
Ugh, sorry. I hope that doesn't conjure him up from just saying that word!?
Let's move on..
America.
This match must've crept on you like my father creeping on those underage ring rats back in the day.
You're wondering, "Who is Andrew Barnes?"
THIS!
This is where you fucked up, America.
You spread yourself too thin with Action Wrestling AND holding two titles here. And now comes D-Day. You didn't do your intelligence report on Andrew Barnes.
And now I'm set to storm that beach and CLAIM my prize.
I'm ready to take out ANYONE you toss at me.
I'm prepared to burn away ALL resistance... I'M READY, AMERICA!
...
Are you?
Like I said, I see or hear nothing from you. Is this gonna be that classic last second retort before the show is set to start? Like you have been doing for the past several weeks? Maybe this IS your plan? I mean, it's not like words will bank me a victory. I HAVE to walk out there and deal with a man that's already weak from a bout with Lex Collins. Hell... You still haven't even said anything about him, either!
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.
Typical American. Hiding in their bunkers. Scared of the darkness that surrounds them. What's gonna happen to you if you lose both titles, America? Are you gonna devote ALL of your time to Action Wrestling? Maybe actually net a win there for once? Have you won yet? I'm just making assumptions to what I see here in Alpha Pro and know the talent that rages in Action Wrestling. Which means, you probably didn't win jackshit yet.
That's our world champion. A hero here. A loser there.
Don't worry, America. This is why the heads put me in that rumble... They knew. They knew that I was gonna win. They knew I was the one that will lead them to a flood of cash. Not some asshat with a played out gimmick like America Jackson.
Yeah. I saw the same thing, only it was Mexi-Chris. And he loved his nachos.
...
Uhm.
So... like... You're probably just gonna put all your energy in our match, America. Is that correct? You're probably gonna let Lex walk all over you for and take that title with YOUR OWN DAMN NAME ON IT! I mean... AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP!? COME ON! You're gonna let that slide from those meathooks?
Fucking pathetic.
He mentions this isn't a land of handouts in one of his promos. Yet, he doesn't realize he had the biggest handout.. He got to fight Zaigon Carter for that World title.
ZAIGON!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
That's the biggest handout I saw! Who the fuck actually thinks Zaigon Carter was any good? The guy talks like Christopher Walken and wrestles like a Jackass reject.
HE'S NOTHING!
The only reason he was champ here is because... Well.. Look around. This place is dead. The heads here can barely get anyone to shoot a promo; let alone go out a actually wrestle like this is their JOB!
Nope.
Instead, he had an easy route. Much like America. Zaigon won the title because people like myself haven't walked through those halls yet.
You and Zaigon have been playing on easy mode this whooooooole time. Now. Now you're bumped up to XTREME mode!
And in this mode. Wrestlers are not gonna fall as easily as before, America. This is the real deal. This is where you finally grow some hair on those shrunken nuts of yours from all the cheap American steroids you pumped into them.
I see more and more talent walk into here, each with talent exceeding the one before. Sooner or later, my time will come as well, America. This is not predicting my win here. Not at all. I do know that I will stick around long enough to hold that title. Now... Or in a couple of weeks. Because, sure, we get new faces almost every day, but I AM the face of APW. And I'm gonna fight for that title until all that's left is bone, revealing an even more beautiful bastard underneath.
I mean... Look at me. Now imagine a skeleton with this bone structure in the face? Fuck. America, you just got yourself a boner.
Now let that stew abit.
Let it marinate in the juices of greatness.
Let it sit to soak it all in, America.
Because you may have your troops or whatever.
BUT!
Remember this.
I am THE cut above the REST!
So...
That puts me above all of your sorry fucks and yourself.
I'M A FIVE STAR GENERAL!
I'M A FIVE STAR MAN!
So, with that last gasp of life, America. I want you to whisper into my ear while I cradle you into the sweet darkness. I want you to whisper as you're lying on your back, with two-hundred and thirty-four pounds of steel weighing on that sad thing you call a chest of yours. I want to hear only these words from you, America...
"America has fallen."
Then, I want Gerard Butler to walk into that fucking ring and wrap that title around my waist.
IT'S OVER!
AMERICA HATES BLACK PEOPLE!
...
Uh... Shit.
*static cut*
