The Foundation
Dec 8, 2016 19:23:31 GMT -5
Post by barry on Dec 8, 2016 19:23:31 GMT -5
We cut in from black to reveal the ornate plating of the 3GW Fifteen Championship Belt, the front reflecting the sun as one strap is hung up over an eggshell-colored wall.
“Like most things in tinseltown, this is really just another monument to the type of false, fleeting glory that dreamers, morons and the common, everyday pleb can only imagine... aaaaaaand fail to grasp.”
The camera pans back to reveal the casually clad form of Becker Gaines, his back turned to the camera as he’s flagrantly urinating against the structure his belt is draped over.
“‘Dreamers, morons and common plebs’... why that sounds just like every single person that’s going to be unfortunate enough to obstruct my path, to try and take away my rightful throne as the President, the lord, the King, the Regency, the goddamn GOD - if you will - of 3GW! Still, in the end the lot of you will be powerless... and you’ll all look up at me continuing ever onward to my inevitable victory, and you’ll all be thinking the same thing-”
The camera pans back a bit further, the eggshell-colored structure slowly joined on either side by similar structures that have yet to fully be exposed by the limited scope of the camera lens’ view. Giving himself a ‘shake’, Becker zips up his designer jeans before turning to finally face the lens, his trademark smirk twisting his features.
“-’Why?’ you’ll all ask, ’Why is this outsider able to beat us, to take the prize that we all train and dream of? What makes him so much better than us?’”
With that Becker grabs his Fifteen Championship and loops it over his shoulder, the camera has pulled back to finally reveal the structure the former child star had been urinating on: The ’HOLLYWOOD’ sign.
“I’ve stated I’m better than the lot of you, and that’s WHY I’m so successful. Yet despite reiterating it - AND PROVING IT - time and again, none of you seem to have taken note or accept that for what it is: undeniable FACT. Majima hasn’t accepted it despite getting beaten TWICE, I suspect Terrence will be too fucking stupid to accept it after I shatter his hopes of getting ’Fifteen Minutes’ on night one, and I’m sure every single one will be seated on the outside mats, slack-jawed and in denial as I walk off with the Paramount Championship, leaving all of you to continue to do what my lessers have ALWAYS done, bask in my glory, and bite back their resentment and jealousy at the success I’ve grasped, that THEY couldn’t!”
The Hollywood Staple takes a deep breath, his upper lip curling into a confident grin.
“To me this Red Carpet Rumble is like a second nature to me. You can decry the fact that I don’t consider myself a pro-wrestler but an actor playing a part all you want, you can assume the fact I’ve never been in a battle royal before as a sure sign I’m doomed at your leisure, go ahead you goddamn worthless Neanderthals, but while you’re all trying to scrape together WHY I won’t win with whatever shred of wit your equally worthless friends all tell you that you possess, I’ll just go ahead and break down some facts.”
At that Gaines points into the lens.
“Every star-making role I ever made famous, I had to earn. I wasn’t old enough to comprehend what my dick was for when I had to walk into auditions and casting-calls to stare down the jealous eyes of doting, simpleton parents with delusions of grandeur for their own little, precious, retarded piles of cartilage and sinew - the same jealous eyes I see on all of you - and I had to be better than them, I had to out-act them, out-charm them, out-perform them. I had to go up and be the best, time and time again.”
He jams a thumb in his chest.
“I - Becker Gaines - the Hollywood Staple, made my bones on the Red Carpet by standing atop the piles of bodies, the husks and ruins of people I was so much more than, before the majority of you knew how to operate a fucking toilet, and you can doubt me all you want, but history has shown, that by the end of the Rumble, you will ALL join the scores of unremarkable pissants that only served to elevate me to stardom, the foundation to something so much better than what all of your combined efforts could EVER manage…”
Gaines spits at the lens, disgusted at the thought of any of his opponents thinking they have a chance.
“... Becker Gaines, Hollywood Staple, ’Fifteen Minute’-”
His eyebrow quirks.
“-AND 3GW ‘Paramount’ Champion!”
With that we fade to black.
“Like most things in tinseltown, this is really just another monument to the type of false, fleeting glory that dreamers, morons and the common, everyday pleb can only imagine... aaaaaaand fail to grasp.”
The camera pans back to reveal the casually clad form of Becker Gaines, his back turned to the camera as he’s flagrantly urinating against the structure his belt is draped over.
“‘Dreamers, morons and common plebs’... why that sounds just like every single person that’s going to be unfortunate enough to obstruct my path, to try and take away my rightful throne as the President, the lord, the King, the Regency, the goddamn GOD - if you will - of 3GW! Still, in the end the lot of you will be powerless... and you’ll all look up at me continuing ever onward to my inevitable victory, and you’ll all be thinking the same thing-”
The camera pans back a bit further, the eggshell-colored structure slowly joined on either side by similar structures that have yet to fully be exposed by the limited scope of the camera lens’ view. Giving himself a ‘shake’, Becker zips up his designer jeans before turning to finally face the lens, his trademark smirk twisting his features.
“-’Why?’ you’ll all ask, ’Why is this outsider able to beat us, to take the prize that we all train and dream of? What makes him so much better than us?’”
With that Becker grabs his Fifteen Championship and loops it over his shoulder, the camera has pulled back to finally reveal the structure the former child star had been urinating on: The ’HOLLYWOOD’ sign.
“I’ve stated I’m better than the lot of you, and that’s WHY I’m so successful. Yet despite reiterating it - AND PROVING IT - time and again, none of you seem to have taken note or accept that for what it is: undeniable FACT. Majima hasn’t accepted it despite getting beaten TWICE, I suspect Terrence will be too fucking stupid to accept it after I shatter his hopes of getting ’Fifteen Minutes’ on night one, and I’m sure every single one will be seated on the outside mats, slack-jawed and in denial as I walk off with the Paramount Championship, leaving all of you to continue to do what my lessers have ALWAYS done, bask in my glory, and bite back their resentment and jealousy at the success I’ve grasped, that THEY couldn’t!”
The Hollywood Staple takes a deep breath, his upper lip curling into a confident grin.
“To me this Red Carpet Rumble is like a second nature to me. You can decry the fact that I don’t consider myself a pro-wrestler but an actor playing a part all you want, you can assume the fact I’ve never been in a battle royal before as a sure sign I’m doomed at your leisure, go ahead you goddamn worthless Neanderthals, but while you’re all trying to scrape together WHY I won’t win with whatever shred of wit your equally worthless friends all tell you that you possess, I’ll just go ahead and break down some facts.”
At that Gaines points into the lens.
“Every star-making role I ever made famous, I had to earn. I wasn’t old enough to comprehend what my dick was for when I had to walk into auditions and casting-calls to stare down the jealous eyes of doting, simpleton parents with delusions of grandeur for their own little, precious, retarded piles of cartilage and sinew - the same jealous eyes I see on all of you - and I had to be better than them, I had to out-act them, out-charm them, out-perform them. I had to go up and be the best, time and time again.”
He jams a thumb in his chest.
“I - Becker Gaines - the Hollywood Staple, made my bones on the Red Carpet by standing atop the piles of bodies, the husks and ruins of people I was so much more than, before the majority of you knew how to operate a fucking toilet, and you can doubt me all you want, but history has shown, that by the end of the Rumble, you will ALL join the scores of unremarkable pissants that only served to elevate me to stardom, the foundation to something so much better than what all of your combined efforts could EVER manage…”
Gaines spits at the lens, disgusted at the thought of any of his opponents thinking they have a chance.
“... Becker Gaines, Hollywood Staple, ’Fifteen Minute’-”
His eyebrow quirks.
“-AND 3GW ‘Paramount’ Champion!”
With that we fade to black.