Sean Libby [vs] Ethan Cage

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#6 Sean Libby [vs.] Ethan Cage #14

Sean Libby [vs] Ethan Cage Additionalinfo

Deadline is SATURDAY, September 15th at 11:59 PM EST
Best 2 RP's are Counted
If You try, you will succeed

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Press Start

Battle Grounds Night

The camera comes in on an empty locker room, clothes strewn about leading to the showers. We can hear the showers running, the cameraman decides in his own head it'd be a smart idea to go in and get a sneak at this new contract. Once inside the shower, you can see Ethan Cage in the shower, but his body is blocked by the shower door. Not paying attention, Ethan sets with his head down letting the water wash the stench of Porter Macleod off him. The thoughts of his match run through his mind, the endless opportunities by this great outing. Everything was set up so perfect, he would never let Porter Macleod know just how close he came to ending that match the winner. Ethan thinks of his mistakes, and thinks of ways those could've been avoided. This scene, almost a metaphor, a baptism, a right of accepting what is coming for him, ...greatness. That moment when you know everything went next to exactly the way you imagined. Porter Macleod was a true fight, but in the end, that match is in the books, the winner of not only that match, but soon, the briefcase, Ethan Cage.

Female Voice: Are you getting a proper view then?

The camera turns around to see Rayne, Ethan's long term girlfriend, well the longest running relationship thus far anyway. Rayne is wearing a leather skin tight suit, her motorcycle helmet propped up on her slender hip. She has a look of concern, but can't help to see the comical side of a man looking at another man in the shower.

Cameraman: I was sent in here.

The cameraman shaking at the imaginations in his head by what this woman must think of the situation.

Rayne: By whom?

The camera turns to see Pasquale Semtex standing there at the door.

Semtex: I just didn't want to interupt anything.

Rayne: So you sent him in to look at Ethan in the shower.

Semtex: At least I didn't let in the two women that are waiting outside that door right now.

Rayne: There's women out there?

Semtex: I just passed by the merchandise booth, kids are asking where the Ethan Cage merch is. I sold them my undershirt and wrote Ethan Cage on it in sharpee. That's fourteen bucks for lunch at the airline terminal.

The shower stops running to which Semtex panics.

Semtex: So do me a favor and not mention any of this to Ethan?

Rayne: Sure thing, Mister?

Semtex: Pasquale Semtex.

Rayne sticks out her hand. Semtex takes it upon himself to take her hand and bend down to kiss it, to which raises to devilish smile from Rayne.

Rayne: My love, we have guests.

Semtex's sly smile turns to one of tremble, his head still near Rayne's hand. Ethan steps out in a towel that's wrapped around his waist.

Ethan: There a reason you're holding my girlfriend's hand, "guest"?

Rayne: He was just kissing my hand during our introduction.

Semtex: I'll leave you guys alone, Ethan, you just had an incredible match, I'm sure you're tired.

Ethan: Nonsense. What can I do for you?

Semtex: Well sir, I'm Pasquale Semtex, I'm IWF's interviewer and-

Ethan: What are you doin' here. Stygian, Chuck Matthews, Steel Angel, Corey Casey's lockers are far from here. I don't know where Maddox is though.

Semtex: Javier Sanchez is already working the six pack challenge. Say, who do you think will be the sixth challenger? You?

Ethan: Well, as money making as it would be after the fact, I'm sure Rick wouldn't have the correct build up he'd want. Even in a month, everyone would wonder why I was in that match. Slow and steady build, that's the key to me, because I'm here for the long haul, because in the end, I'm going to make this company so much god damn money, you'll think it's the second coming of Christ. Third coming if you count that whole resurrection thing, but hey, we get chocolate covered eggs out of it. My money is on a surprise of sorts, and hey, if I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but I gotta go James Shark on this one. If egos spoke to each other like dolphins, there's one thing I know, all those egos in that match, there is no damn way James Shark won't be in that mix.

Ethan heads to his suitcase, takes off his towel to which Semtex girlishly whimpers and covers his eyes. Ethan is wearing boxers, he sits on the bench and slides on his jeans and picks up his slip on Vans.

Semtex: You wouldn't want to be apart of that match?

Ethan: Yes, I'd love to come home with the World Heavyweight Championship.

Semtex: Are you that confident you'd win?

Ethan: You know what I saw out there? A bunch of whining girls out there that treat that belt like jewelery. It defines them, when I hold my world title, I will define what it is to be a champion. They won't hit my theme music, and I make a big stink until I get what I want. The time of causing a fit in the grocery store for my favorite candy is long gone. I'll earn it. And besides, it gives me a weakness.

Semtex: How so?

Ethan: I have an ego the size of Ruby Winter's boobs, and that's big, but I'm not blinded by it, like the men in the sixpack challenge. I go into that match, the other five will have the same exact promo towards me about how I don't belong in the match. And deep down they know, with me in that match, shit would get real. They know deep down that there would be a huge chance that I'd come home with the title. Hell, management even knows that I'd come home with the title. When I eventually do go for that title, it's going to be some victim that is going to know that his days of being the World Champion have just been numbered. It'd be a countdown to him or her losing her title. Now it's not a weakness so far as in the ring, a fight is a fight, however when I reach that level, there will not see any weakness, they'll see their future dwindle before their eyes. You see dorkfish, I was made for main event. Look at me, my body and my talent scream it.

Ethan turns his attention to Rayne.

Ethan: You get it?

Rayne: Your match tonight on DVD, all here.

Rayne pats her purse.

Ethan: Good.

Ethan stands and slides on his KillSwitch Engage shirt. Now fully dressed, out of nowhere Ethan Cage snaps and grabs Semtex by the throat and slams him against the wall. Semtex looks at the cameraman for help, who just stands there.

Ethan: If you ever lay a hand on my girlfriend again, I'm going to shove that microphone so far up your ass, it'll come out your ass, and I'll set you up as a jump rope for the local girls. Do we have an understanding?

Grasping for air Semtex says.

Semtex: Yes, sir.

Ethan makes a disgusted face.

Ethan: What's that smell?

Rayne: Well hun, it would appear you've literally choked the piss out of him.

Ethan and the camera look down at Semtex's pants.

Ethan: Damn Kotex, take it easy.

Semtex: It's Semtex.

Ethan raises an eyebrow.

Ethan: What's your name?

Semtex lowers his head.

Semtex: Kotex. Pasquale Kotex.

Ethan: God you must've had your ass kicked so many times in life.

Semtex: So, so many times.

Ethan: Well, being staff, you must know who I'm fighing next.

Semtex: Yes, I saw the match sheet for next week. You have Sean Libby.

Ethan: It's like being surrounded by people in the Chronicles of Narnya....Sean Libby, Pasquale Semtex. Names where you can't tell if you're facing a dude or a chick. Well, I'm out of here, there's this club that I've been invited to, and me and Rayne gotta head out.

Semtex: Who invited you?

Ethan: Do me a favor Kotex, ....don't be too good at your job.

Ethan grabs his hoodie and opens the door and leaves. Semtex is confused.

Semtex: What's that supposed to mean?

Rayne: You ask too many questions.

Rayne says while passing Semtex and leaving as well. Semtex leaves as well, the cameraman following them. When Semtex is shocked to see that Ethan Cage has gathered a crowd around him, all facing the door Semtex has just walked through.

Ethan: See, didn't I tell you, he pissed himself.

Semtex does what he can to try and cover his embarassing spot.

The crowd is laughing hysterically while pointing at Semtex. Semtex tries to escape from the audience but is stopped by Rayne, just long enough for Ethan to grab Semtex by the collar and drag him to the parking lot. The crowd follows Ethan, as they assume Semtex is up for even more embarassment. Ethan and Samtex reach the outside. Ethan releases Samtex and holds up his index finger.

Ethan: Wait there, you wanted Ethan Cages words, that's exactly what you're going to get.

Ethan steps onto a black stretch limousine with the word CRSTN1 written on the license plate. Ethan steps up on the bumper and then stands on the hood of the limo.

Semtex: Um, Ethan sir.

Ethan: Shut up Kotex.

Semtex: But sir, you're standing on Rick Christian's personal limousine sir.

As soon as he says that, the weight of Ethan caves in the hood. Ethan shrugs, and then stops onto the top of the limo. The driver begins to open the car door, and gets a little momentum but Rayne superkicks the car door shut, the limo driver's head goes through the window and falls back into his seat unconscious.

Ethan: Thanks Sweets.

Rayne stays silent but winks. Semtex then tells the cameraman to get a close up of the hood's damage.

Semtex: Rick Christian's going to be pissed. We're looking at a deadman.

Ethan laughs.

Ethan: Did you see me out there tonight, I did as I said I would and I stole the show. Bonus points to me for stealing the show fighting someone the age of Moses. I know that I'm not exactly untouchable, but I know after tonight each of you have seen my worth to this company. I know as well, another person that saw, and that's you Sean Libby. You have been here for quite awhile, so I know you've seen them all come and go, and you know that this time is different. I...am different. And I have to say that I agree with you, I am, I'm of an even higher caliber than our current top tier. Not only do I make matches watchable, I make them must see. You will hold your piss and get a blatter infection just to not miss a god damn thing I do in that ring. Sean, you and I have made it to the second round in this little tournament, but the roulette wheel has stopped, and it appears your number just didn't come up this time. No, this time you have gotten me, and not some half assed attempt in that ring such as Death Angel.

Ethan looks up at the stars.

Ethan: The stars for me though, they have aligned perfectly. Though you are younger than my opponent tonight, you are also naive but we'll get into that a little later.

Two female voices are heard in unison.

Voices: Hey Ethan.

This of course gets Ethan's attention, as he looks, two women have just lifted their shirts to flash Ethan. Ethan smiles in appreciation.

Ethan: You see Sean, I've come for titles and titties, and from what your virgin eyes have just seen, it would seem I'm already on the right track.

Ethan stops looking at the camera.

Ethan: Ladies and gentlemen, I will not be your hero, I will not fight for you, for your respect. What I will do, for myself, is win matches and eventually titles, because it's what you want to see. Think of all the interesting matches I could make memorable, think of all those lost opportunities of which I could've made pay per views better. I could up the buy rate of a pay per view with five minutes of my in ring work, let alone a title match. Now those of you turned off by my attitude, good, I'm not for you, go watch Steel Angel and pretend that you're him. I am me, and I like it that way, but you've all come out here to see just what the fuck I was going to do next. You may hate me, but I have your attention, and during this briefcase round 2, I'm facing a man who has no idea what he's up against. Sure, he saw me work today, but he has no idea of the humiliation in and out of the ring that he's about to go through. Sean Libby had an easy first round, and wouldn't you know it, the other shoe has fallen. You see, this week, for Sean Libby, I will be his personal,"death angel".

-Cut-

Next Day

The camera comes back in on the inside of an old folks home. All about the room are old people in robes, some with tubes from their noses, a sea of liver spots. They are sitting in random places, one guy crossing the electric sliding doors path hears the chime and begins to rush, which is a normal person's walk. The sliding doors open and the crossing old man falls down. In walks Ethan Cage, not even breaking his stride simply steps over the old man and walks to the receptionist's desk. He is wearing a nice button up shirt and black slacks with nice black shoes. He has a bottle of Jack Daniels and what looks like a dvd in either hand. Ethan props his elbows on the desk with a smile that could only come from him. A smile returned at the sight of Ethan Cage.

Receptionist: Hello.

Ethan: Yes, Porter Macleod please.

The receptionist types the name into the computer. She shakes her head not seeing that name.

Receptionist: Are you sure he's at this home sir?

Ethan: It was the closest one and after what I did to him, and I eliminated from the tournament, I thought he'd have to return here. Ah well, thank you for your time Miss.

Ethan's about to leave when the receptionist stands.

Receptionist: Well, what's your rush?

Ethan: Excuse me?

Receptionist: Well I just meant that any one of these people would love a visit from a young man like yourself.

Ethan: I don't really like to hang around death.

The receptionist's eyes grow big and looks around to see if anyone heard him.

Receptionist: We don't like to use that word around here.

Ethan: Okay, well, I'm out of here.

Receptionist: You brought a bottle of whiskey to an old folks home.

Ethan: It was kind of a truce for kicking the back of his head in.

Receptionist: Metaphorically, you mean.

Ethan: No, it's funny, I hit him with that part of my foot where I didn't even feel it. You know like when you're playing baseball and you hit the ball with the meat of the bat and it just feels right?

Receptionist: Well-

Ethan: You're just going to keep talking 'til I visit someone aren't you?

Receptionist: You can even pick the one you want to visit.

Ethan: Okay, I have five minutes, you're lucky you have big tits.

Ethan walks to the right, down this long hallway, peeking into each room. Until he gets into a room where a man is watching the Three Stooges. Ethan leans against the door frame to catch some of the episode.

Man: Well, ain't you comin' or you gonna start there like a statue?

Ethan looks down to see a man lying down, hooked up to every kind of tube imagineable. Ethan's eyes big at the shock of seeing this man's situation.

Man: I get that a lot. Doc says I got a month tops. What's your name kid?

Ethan: Ethan Cage...,but you can call me, Ethan Cage.

Man: Brass set on ya, eh? I was like that when I was young too. What are you, some kind of muscle man, you're built like a bear.

Ethan: Funny you should mention that. I was here to trying to catch up with an "old" friend. I was gonna show him our match. See, I'm a god...erhm, a wrestler, I shouldn't be saying God, you're going to meet him in a month.

Man: A wrestler huh? Ain't that sh-

Ethan: Fuck you.

The man smiles.

Man: My names Redd, Redd Shoemaker son. And you still haven't come into the room.

Ethan steps in.

Shoemaker: That's right.

Ethan looks around.

Shoemaker: So you got me interested, who is your next opponent?

Ethan: This dickface named Sean Libby, all the makings of jackass with attitude to boot.

Shoemaker: Can you take him?

Ethan confidently smiles.

Ethan: I'm in the beginning stages when it comes to this company, but Sean Libby is always known to come up short. I'm going to dismantle the poor guy.

Shoemaker: What gives you all this confidence kid?

Ethan: You're going to witness my awesomeness, well, not firsthand of course, because my guess is, you were here lying in bed.

Ethan goes to the dvd player and slides in the dvd, the following footage being that of Cage versus Macleod. Ethan takes a seat, placing the remote down on the armrest.

{(
Porter MacLeod and Ethan Cage both eye each other from across the ring. Slowly, carefully, they both make their way to the center of the ring
}

Ethan: This is where it starts, right here I'm already thinking "dude, he must've drank an entire bar, I can smell him from here.

{Cage comes crashing down across Porter MacLeod’s throat with a springboard senton leg drop}

Ethan: God dam I'm awesome.

{However, at the last second, Porter MacLeod wraps his kilt over the head of Ethan Cage and begins raining blows down on Ethan Cage’s head as Ethan Cage kicks and throws blind punches in an attempt to fight back}

Ethan: We can fast forward this.

Ethan lifts the remote to the dvd player and indeed forwards it until he sees a section he likes.

{Ethan Cage leaps up onto the announcer’s table and springs backwards directly at Porter MacLeod. Porter MacLeod looks up but is too slow to avoid the move.}

Ethan: Here it comes.

{Ethan Cage then winks at the camera before diving backwards, driving Porter MacLeod down to the ringside mats with diving reverse DDT}

Ethan: BOOM!

The sound of a machine near Redd sounding off.

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

Ethan: How are can you hear anything with that sound?

Ethan gets up, never taking his eyes off the television. Ethan unplugs a bunch of things, still not paying attention until the sound is gone. Ethan sits back down. Not seeing Redd convulsing and silently begging for help as he can't talk anymore, his eyes huge. The man is clutching his chest.

{As soon as Ethan Cage’s feet hit the ground though, Ethan Cage leaps backwards and delivers a Pele kick that smashes right into the back of Porter MacLeod’s skull

Rick- There it is!

Matt- YES! HIT THE LIGHTS!

Ethan Cage immediately rolls over and hooks Porter MacLeod’s legs as the ref counts

-1-

-2-

-3-

The ref calls for the bell

[Ding, Ding, Ding!]

Heather Thompson- Here is your winner…advancing to the next round of the Battle for the Briefcase Tournament…Ethan Cage!}

The dvd stops.

Ethan: Wasn't that amazing? I mean this guy Libby has no fuckin' clue what he's in for.

Ethan turns to Redd and sees his eyes closed and very still

Ethan: I know, it took a lot out of me too. Enjoy your sleep old man.

Ethan stands.

Ethan: Wow, that lady was right, wasn't so bad.

Ethan: I'll see you later Mr. Shoemaker.

Ethan leaves and returns down the hallway and heads to the exit.

Receptionist: Now, was that so bad?

Ethan: Near painless.

Ethan slides his sunglasses on with a smile, with the thought of seeing his last match play in his head. Ethan exits and gets to the parking lot when he takes the time to address Sean Libby once again. While talking though, he takes off said nice shirt and to expose a black muscle shirt. Ethan places it in his Shelby Mustang through the passenger window, reaches in and grabs a baseball cap and slides that onto his head backwards and sighs as if feeling more himself now.

Ethan: I have to say, seeing what you guys got to see at home, I'm amazing. Well Sean Libby, you have a bit of history here in the IWF, infact, you were here since the second show this company has even had. Now you would think that would make me respect you, that you helped to build this place, a place where I now reside, but I don't. You see, you are a low point, this company still needs me. What sucks is that before last week, you didn't even know that you did. I'm the shot in the arm that this show needed because it wasn't getting what they wanted from you. They need constant entertainment, they need people that can do what they can't. And seeing you, in that ring, why would they pay to see you when they could go to 7-11 and see fourteen of "you" sitting outside loitering and asking for change. A bunch of punk kids who don't want to do anything for themselves, they're just looking for their next hand out. Remind you of anyone Shit Stain?

Ethan: You know, you've been here a long time, and I see that I have an excuse to not be in that six pack challenge, the ink is still wet on my contract to this company, but you, you were on the second show and you're not the name that you should be. I know, I know, you have tons of excuses and they are all full of bullshit explaining how it's not your fault. But this is what I remember from my first week, I heard Parker Wayde's name, I heard Corey Taylor's name, saw Steel Angel's name on the boards backstage, saw familiar faces such as Baron Tomson, Vanessa Cade, both of which I have yet to meet, but I heard of them, Stygian, and what's even sadder, is that you've actually held a title in this company. The High Impact belt, sure, that was in July of 2011, an accomplishment none the less, you had a whole month and a few days with it. You really went out there and proved yourself....

Ethan shakes his head.

Ethan: I can tell that you might be slow so I'm going to explain that that last comment, was sarcasm. You held a title for a month and did nothing with that opportunity, and the only reason you got it, was because the competition wasn't so thick, in that fresh stage, it was probably the best and only time that you will ever have had the chance to hold a title in this company. It's been long forgotten, and people have actually done stuff since, even Stygian, a former High Impact champion is in that six pack challenge. Other than that title reign OVER A FUCKIN' YEAR ago, you haven't done shit in this company. You have had opportunities, but you've proven to always come up short, just like in this tournament, you will live up to your reputation of once again failing. You're fuckin' doing half the work for me, it's like a stigma with you now, and it's only going to work to my advantage. What you should've done is ask management to allow you to sit out of this tournament, because these things only remind you of how much of a loser you truly are. It's not fair to you, to be reminded of the short side of talent that you have. It has to send you to therapy. I mean, coming home to your mom and dad and them not even able to look you in the face, because they somehow think it's their fault that you turned out to be such a huge disappointment. I say return home to your parents because in your own little file there, says you live with your parents.

Ethan smirks.

Ethan: You are four years from being thirty years old, and you might not even make it to our match, because you might be grounded for not taking out the trash. You know in a lot of cases, the mother tends to keep the son there because she's not getting the attention from her husband, so they make you stay and put up with her bullshit. Which means your dad ain't fuckin' your mom, and some of the guys had a picture of your mom, hell, some even had video. I guess I just have to wait for my turn with her. And believe me, after the fuck I give her, she won't be bothering you for months. I'll make her forget the disappointemnt that came out of her vagina, by putting something that can only be measured in feet, inside her. Hell, maybe I'll give you a half brother who will overshadow you like all of the roster does in this company everyday.

Ethan: It's just funny to think of you traveling the world with IWF, only for you to return, not to your apartment, not to your house, but to your room, with posters of Britney and N'Sync, well you try to convince us that you are so punk. You're so punk rock that you live with your parents. Johnny Rotten was right, punk is dead, especially when it's defined these days by the excuse of a man like you.

Ethan: Tale of the tape, you are 6' and 197 pounds, a striker and high flyer. Nothing I'm not familiar with, however at 6'5 and 238 lbs, and can not only do the moves you do, I can do them flawlessly. You are a man child, which is quite different from the old heap I faced last Battle Grounds. Now as a finisher, you have a bunch of little set up moves, that really all have to connect, and from what I see, those are all opportunities to allow my opponent to get out of it and break your neck. You saw with Porter, all it took was one slip up, and I made him pay for it, he's probably drowing himself in aspirins and whiskey to try and dull out the pain, in his body and mind. You are the chihuahua, and you're facing IWF's new pitbull, you'll bark and bark, but in the end, they are going to find your limbs seperated from your body. And someone will end up on People's Court, again.

Ethan: Your finishers, Cold of Ireland, bore, Irish Shot, unimaginative, and really more of a featured move, ah well. Then there's Rainbow Dash, you hit a stunner THAN a superkick, and then name it something even our divas would find too girly. Rainbow Dash, it sounds like a bunch of gay guys playin' ding dong ditch 'em, which is funny wording on it's own. And then, if those three were not bad enough, you do the fuckin' worm.

Ethan facepalms himself and sighs.

Ethan: Now after the things I've mentioned to you, is it really any wonder why no one takes you seriously. THE FUCKIN' WORM?! What the hell are you doing here, in this business, a guy with a mohawk and tats, does the worm and expects to get respect from people that are out to become champions, legends. You will always stay at the bottom of this company, you have reached your plateau, and now comes the time when you bide your time until you get fed up and leave, this time for good. What am I saying, as a child you were probably never told know, to look real close, you probably have one of those address bracelets incase you get lost. If you lose matches, you can go home to hot cocoa and watch Saturday Morning cartoons, dressed in footie pajamas. Seeing you as childish as you are, can only mean one thing, your father never taught you how to be a man, which adds more sense to your mother being such a town whore. Your father is in the closet, and it's made you basically have two moms, and between them, you were their precious little angel. And it's cost you truly becoming a man, you probably don't even know where to begin in talking with a woman. You LIVE in the friend zone to every woman you've ever met, simply because you are no threat to them of sleeping with you, because it'll never happen. Well, get your little emergency cell phone that allows you only to call your parents, and let them know, that their precious angel, is coming back Sunday, a broken little man. Warn them that they will see blood stains on your clothes, they will see bruising all about your face, they will see broken bones, and they will see a man that has come to realize that his time as a child has come to an end. You are a born victim, and you'll live out your shallow life never completing anything real.

Ethan: Says there that you grew up on the friendly side of Framingham, which happens to be thirty two minutes from Boston, oops, which reminds me.

Ethan turns his back to the camera, to show that he's wearing a New York Yankee cap.

Ethan: Like it?

Ethan turns back to face the camera.

Ethan: Well, you've lived out your friendly times, but now you are out in the world and as Captain Barbossa once said..."out here, they be monsters". I'm not friendly, I'm not shallow, I'm not the kind of man that shakes your hand if I don't like you, I'm more likely to spit in your face. You fake motherfuckers are the worst ones, because you'll stab someone in the back, me, I like to look into their eyes when I do that. As you are seeing now, I don't respect you, and I never will. Like Boston, you pride yourself on being the underdog, and that's just something I've never been. I'm a born and bred winner, and anything I choose to do. Now my heart is with the Dodgers, but I thought I'd wear the cap just to piss you off. Because the Yankees are hated on for being upscale, talented, and they know it. While you Boston types are so called real, putting a spin on being horseshit and trying to make it polish. That's fine, everyone sees you for exactly what you are, but it lets you sleep at night. I am classic, I am a thoroughbred, you are an unlucky jinx when it comes to wrestling. And management just doesn't have the heart to tell you that you are worthless, they pay you to take up time until the main eventers come out. You are the parsley of a four course meal, you are there only for it to look presentable. Here, you are just a number on the roster to make us look bigger and more successful, but once they dig deep and see that you are some delusional moron, they surpass you, just as everyone has since you came into this company. Just as I will at Battle Grounds this week.

Ethan: You used to watch wrestling in highschool and had a little piece of shit promotion with all the other little kids. That's interesting, I was fighting everyday in school, boning the cheerleaders under the bleachers or in their parents' bed, and at night, I'd go to my wrestling school back in Las Vegas. Why, because at night, I wasn't some child that saw wrestling as simple fun with friends, it was the means to get a lot of stuff out, instead of robbing, instead of becoming a nuissance to authorities, what I've come to learn, is that I can be my opponent's nightmare. You know, like I'm doing to you this week, and I knew my place was to be in this business, to be successful and to be remembered and simply brilliant when it comes to wrestling. You, however, are like that high school kid that was excellent in football, and then when he went to college, he found out that he was nowhere near their league. That it is different when it comes to a man's destiny, in comparison to a man that does this for fun. You are talking about a man's livelyhood, which is something you never had to deal with, being that you live within the confines of your parent's rulings. You've never been on your own, you've never had to think about where you were going to get your next paycheck. Reality hasn't set in, that you were only great in highschool, and here, you're out of your element. You're better off being a store clerk at Toys R Us. Living on minimum wage, and having hemroids, and dying alone.

Ethan: Maybe that's why you are so dark in your little Joker colors of purple and green. You're out for vengence, for having to live your life like a tool for so long, but what's come to happen is that you've been a tool for so long, you don't know how to be cool. It's like Spiderman 3, remember when Peter Parker had the symbiote. Now Peter Parker wasn't cool, he was HIS version of cool, which was still a complete dork. Just like the symbiote didn't make Peter Parker cool, this business, borrowing your floozy mother's make up and spiking your hair, will not make you cool. Because inside, you will always be that little goody two shoes that came from that Pleasantville home that might as well be Mayberry. Me, I'm the real deal, I'm emursed in cool. I breathe it, and it just exudes from my body, right down to my walk. People like me were the reason you had to have extracurricular activities in high school, we were the ones boning the prom queen while you were having Counter Strike nights at some computer place. I am a winner, you are the forgettable one that will live out a very meaningless life. Theory, if I were to leave right now, all those thoughts of matches like Ethan Cage versus Cody Taylor, Ethan Cage versus Stygian, and the like are all out there door. And with you, they've had over a year of Sean Libby, and if you left, again, there wouldn't even be a ripple in the water, because they know that you are as replaceable as a pair of nail clippers. Just go out and get another pair, done.

Ethan: I will never do what you did in this company and waste everyone's time. I made a tidal wave of a splash in coming into this company and I'm riding it all the way to the top, there is no way in hell you or anyone like you is going to hold me down. Because you see, even at this point in my career, you can tell that Rick Christian wants me in the mix. Whatever is happening in the IWF in the future, you can bet your ass I will be a part of it in some form or another. You may hate me, but you LOVE to hate me. You are out there wadding in the ocean begging to get noticed by anyone, and let me tell you, you only have my attention Sean. And when my sights are set on you, that means you're not going to have a good day. I will make you realize just how sub par you are, that you are the generic version of what a wrestler should be. Sure, with our combination of moves, things will be fast paced and look pretty, but sooner or later things are going to have to come to a head, and Sean I will leave this week with my hand raised. You know that I'm telling you the truth, and you know deep down that you just don't have what it takes to be in that ring with me. You can keep up in speed, but you don't have the threshold for pain that Macleod had, which means when I catch you, and I WILL catch you, you are going to go down faster than your mother when your father goes off to work for the day.

Ethan: You and I have won our first matches in this company, and that's the only thing we will ever have in common. Because you see, you may have beaten Death Angel last week, but in your second match here, he hit you with a move called the Canadian Beaver. Now he didn't pin you, but you were left lying there motionless long enough to pin someone else and get the win, like I said, useless. Now you being my second match, it's only you and I, and this is for something very important, making a name for myself with this tournament is the exact thing I need to get me where I need to go, to be involved. At this point, I don't even need to be at the top, I just want to be in the mix, and then once I made everyone realize just who the fuck I am, I'll take my first title reign in this company and stay at the top for a very long time. It won't be a lackluster year like yours. Your fall was instant, the very next week, and facing a guy like you, is making it no contest. IWF is just giving me another lemming to take down, and to IWF, I say thank you.

Ethan: Let's see, the very next week you lost to Tyson Rowle to which he got to pick a stipulation to a future match, and here's the fuckin' kicker, the episode was named Irish Invasion. Now that's something through the name of your finishers and your hometown, you take pride in, so to fuck that up, was epic, thanks for the laugh. You did go on to beat him in some useless first blood match, which is kind of an out since you didn't pin him, but luckily this Tyson fella was an idiot. You go through some name change that means nothing to no one, and went from being from Dublin Ireland to being from Framingham, I guess no one was going to notice that all of the sudden you're from this country. I get it, being American means a lot to people, it makes you turn your back on your own country, must add to the inner shame that you did that to your people. See, as I said before, you are the type stab people in the back. Change your persona to fit what you think people want to see, which means you don't know who you truly are, and at twenty six years old, you should at least be catching a clue.

Ethan: Another awesome fact, you've been through this briefcase business before, last year, and you lost in the first round to Vincent Van Rose and that wouldn't even be the last time he beat you as it happened at the hall of fame show for Death Angel, and you had Corey Casey, Tim Patrick and Connor O Shannon as besties at the time, your little Irish Army. I guess you are the left overs, the "Ringo" of the group, the one that was just happy to be part of the group because you knew you were no where near worthy of being a part of it. You may ask yourself what makes me say that, because at a time when you four were supposed to be making yourselves a staple as a stable, you find that someone wasn't pulling their weight and that was you Sean. When I saw my match last week, I was mentioned in the same breath as a man named Jason Hawk, now I come to see that you know him very well because he's pinned you before in a tag match with Shannon. You were the weak link of that stable and now you are a weak link in this entire company.

Ethan: You once got pinned by a man who simply put a foot on you, that man was Brandon McDonald but still, he disbanded your little clique with the humiliation of you being under his boot. That's how pathetic you were, you were motionless on the mat, he knew you weren't kicking out.

Ethan: Another humbling thing you endured, was your one title reign, was ended by the man you took it from. You've had to swallow whatever pride you had a lot of times Sean. And once again, you're going to have to do just that. Your days of beating a bunch of no names will not happen this week, because this so called no name, is going to be that last thread of hope that you are meant for anything in this business. When I destroy that thread, and you fall down the ladder even lower, and once again hide in the shadows, you'll have to watch from the sidelines and see me win the whole damn tournament. It's what you were meant to be doing, in this movie, I am the star and you are...like a faceless production assistant. People don't know your even know your name. And let's say they do remember your name, for shits and giggles, I bet every time your name is said, it's prefaced by these words, "oh yeah, that's right, Sean Libby, that guy..." You are like dust on a man's shoulder, you can easily be brushed off.

Ethan: Now, I leave you with just this, because this little history lesson though not finished, was just to prove that I know who my enemy is. I know everything about my opponent, and I know what moves took him out, I know his speed, his strengths and weaknesses. This is what I do, you will have no surprises Sean Libby. I will not be denied this, my time to rise in the IWF. There is a bright future for me on the horizon, and it's through you, and the road will be paved with your blood, sweat and broken dreams. Once you are in that ring with me, there will be a calm of which you've never experienced, and it's the hush of the death of your career. It's only fitting I give a semi run down of your career, because I look to end it. This time, you lose in the second round of the tournament, but you won't be losing to some no name that took his ball and went home, you will be losing to IWF's brand new marketable purchase, Ethan Cage. And always, I will set trends, and eyes will never leave me until I want them to.

Ethan: Sean, do anything you can to be prepared for this match, spar, run miles, but know this, as much of an ego as I have, I have the heart to go through with anything that I say. And right now, I say that the hell I'm about to put you through will change you forever. Everything that happened before Sunday will mean nothing, because once I'm done with you, anything you've accomplished will be erased, and over thrown by the man that's become simply faultless. The pain is coming, the pain will wash over you, because your sacrifice is inevitable. It won't matter if your name is Rourke or Libby, after this match, you'll just be my bitch.

Ethan walks over to the driver's side of the car. Ethan opens the door, he stands on the bottom frame of the door and looks at the camera one last time.

Ethan: Libby, I'll do everything I can during this fight not to make you cry.....I wouldn't want your make up to run.....you fuckin' bitch.....

Ethan gets into the car and takes off, and as if on cue, an ambulance pulls up to where Ethan's car once was. The EMT's rush out of the ambulance and head inside the old folks home as the camera fades to....

Black

Guest

((OOC Note: The Real Sean Libby is not in this rp))

Press Start

Today

The camera comes comes in a nice quiet home, very serene surroundings as we find ourselves on the outside. The camera comes from outside to the inside and settling on....it would seem Ethan Cage in a fake mustache, powered in gray hair and in a Hugh Hefner robe and slippers. There is a hound dog lying next to him on the floor as Ethan is in a plush seat. Ethan is smokin' from a pipe and reading the paper with reading glasses hanging from the tip of his nose. Astonished by this sight I'm sure, it's not over, Rayne, our suave, sexy with a bit of a sexy tomboy attitude walks in, with a house dress and carrying a home made turkey in from the kitchen. Her hair in a bun, a pearl necklace around her neck, no sickos, not that kind, piercing red lipstick but otherwise a more neutral look to her make up. Ethan puts the paper down on the stand next to him and stands, he's wearing slacks under this robe, instead of his normal jeans or Addidas sweats. It would appear this is some sort of skit, has to be. Also the following skit will have all the people doing a horrible attempt at a Boston accent. Ethan as Dad, Rayne as Mom.

Dad: Well, doesn't that bird smell delicious.

Dad says with a big goofy smile.

Mom: I know, it's our angel Sean's favorite.

Dad: Oh that's right, it's Sunday, he comes home from wrestling. Won't he feel giddy when he sees his favorite.

Mom: As his whore mother, I'd just like to say what a great son we have.

Dad: And as his limp dick father who doesn't even have the decency to go down on you, nor the time, I'd like to agree with that last statement. What time does your next suitor show?

Mom: I don't know dear, but he said he would have the condoms this time.

Dad: And Chrissy?

Mom: She stays at the university this week.

Dad: Oh that's right.

An awkward pause.

Dad: Well, there's something I've been meaing to ask you dear.

Mom: What's that?

Dad: Is Sean really my son, I mean there was that one time we had the mail man involved, and that other time I was filming my own father giving you the business, so I have my doubts.

Mom: As awkward as he is with women, and being a twenty six year old virgin, who's son could he be?

Dad: Richard Simmons?

Mom: Hey, with the lack of times you touch me, it might as well be.

The two laugh when in walks Sean Libby wearing something Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel- Air would wear. A maroon v neck sweater, button up shirt, tie, khaki's and loafers, and yes for those wondering, it is the same guy that played Porter Macleod last week that is playing Sean Libby.

Sean: Hey guys.

Mom: Sean, did you wipe your shoes before coming into this house?

Sean: Oops, sorry mom.

"Sean" runs outside and wipes his shoes and comes back inside. His eyes grow big as he sees the turkey.

Sean: Is that for me?

Mom: It's for the family but yes, I did make it for your return home.

Sean nervously asks.

Sean: So did you guys see my match this week?

Dad: Why son, it's not like you are a totally different person when you wrestle. We know you are our sweet little boy out there. Did you win?

Sean: Thanks dad.

Mom: You know how I despise violence.

Dad: Did you win?

Sean: Yes dad.

Dad: Who did you face.

Sean: Deat- erhm Dennis...Dennis Eckersley.

Dad: The baseball player?

Sean: Well, I guess he thought if Pete Rose could do it.

Dad: It's a strange world we live in.

Mom: Now comes the real question, being out there on the road. You still a virgin?

Sean: Not if I count you mother.

Mom: That's my boy.

Dad: God this family is truly blessed.

The scene goes into a freeze frame and fades to black.

Scene 2

Sean is asleep, and the house is pitch black when his cell phone alarm goes off. Sean is quick to silence it. He slowly gets out of bed absolutely careful not to make a sound in his Zack and Cody footie pajamas. He walks over to his door to see if there is any comotion whatsoever. Seeing that everything is still calm, Sean walks to the door across from him, and once he enters, he slowly opens a drawer to the left that is full of make up. Sean sits down infront of a vanity mirror and proceeds to smooth this black make up on his face. He puts guyliner and black lipstick, even doing that smack with his lips. Once everything is on, the actor looks quite convincing as the real Sean Libby. "Sean" then goes back to his room and slips on a Dixie Chicks shirt on with skinny jeans, Sean globs on the gel and spikes up his hair, then he globs on moose and smoothes that into his hair, then he sprays it with hair spray for ten seconds, and then grabs a tube of crazy glue and smoothes that into his....his hands are now stuck in his hair, he yanks and tugs, and believe me, this ain't the first time he's been in his room "yanking and tugging", but usually it involves crying and tissues, and they aren't for those tears. Sean slams his head onto the dresser during the struggle and falls to the ground unconscious.

Scene 3

Sean is now on the streets, dressed the same, but this time with a heavy leather jacket. He's walking the streets with a confident stride. The world is his, he gets to act like himself, while not under his parents roof. A car pulls up next to Sean.

Stranger: Hey girl,-

The stranger looks around to see if this is a sting operation.

Stranger: You a cop?

Sean: I'm a man.

Stranger: You can just say no, you don't have to outright lie to a motherfucker's face.

Sean: No seriously.

Stranger: Whatever whore, try not to get raped.

The car pulls off.

Sean: Good luck, so far as I know, lightning can't strike twice! I lived through it once already, and Vincent bought me dinner after that.

Sean yells back to stranger. Sean looks around embarassed then heads into this Punk Irish Pub called the same name. Once inside he heads directly to the jukebox. He searches around but finds nothing he wants to listen to. Sean walks to the bar and sees a bartender with his back to Sean.

Sean: Excuse me bartender?

The bartender turns around and it's Ethan Cage again, this time done up with a dog collar, fake piercings and peeling tattoos.

Bartender: What can I do for you?

Sean: Your jukebox isn't punk, it doesn't have Green Day, Sum 41, Good Charlotte, hell, it don't even have the Josey and the Pussycats soundtrack. All it has are Dead Kennedys, The Sex Pistols, The Vandals, Black Flag, the only one I recognized was the Misfits, but they spelled it wrong. See?

Sean shows the bartender his Mizfits patch on his jacket.

Bartender: You ain't heard of those bands eh?

Sean: Not a one.

Bartender: Where'd you get the patch, Amazon.com.

Sean: Some wrestling show, thought it was pretty punk rock. He kept yelling "awesome", and that's what I think about myself, so I thought I'd represent.

Bartender: You know The Ramones?

Sean: Yes, they live over on Alpine Dr, very nice family, they have a dog named Rusty.

The bartender shakes his head.

Bartender: Can I get you a drink?

Sean: Hello yeah you can, I'm twenty six. Shirley Temple, dirty.

Bartender: You want a Shirley Temple in an Irish Pub, with an olive?

Sean: No olives?

Bartender: The only Shirley we have hear son, is dancing in that cage in booty shorts.

Sean looks over to see what he's talking about. Sean gets apprehensive to look at her, as she's a woman.

Bartender: What's the matter kid?

Sean: I'll take whatever you got.

The bartender brings up an unnamed pale ale and hands it to Sean. Sean takes a careful sip.

Sean: Tastes bitter, like it's got alcohol inside. Not bad though.

The punk music screams and a bottle flies near the bartender's head and hits the wall inches from his face. The bartender doesn't budge, as if used to it.

Sean: What time does One Direction start?

Bartender: The band tonight is called One Die Nation.

Sean: One Direction cover band?

Bartender: Kid, you better leave this place, these guys are going to eat you alive in here.

Sean: Hey, I'm Sean Libby, what's the worst thing that can happen?

Bartender: You could win a title, only hold it for a month, lose it to the same person you won it from, and then have everyone forget you were ever even a champion.

Sean: That too, can not happen twice.

Bartender: You can falsely claim to represent the Irish heritage by saying your from Dublin.

Sean: Did it.

Bartender: You could be in a stable of Irishmen, gain minimal success and have it disbanded as if it never existed and be humiliated by a man named Brandon Macdonald.

Sean: Done and done, see bartender, I'm untouchable.

The mosh pit spreads wider, and claims Sean within it. The pit is full of real hooligans punching and kicking while dancing, and Sean doesn't know which end is up. He bouncing off elbows and feet, just trying to get out, taking punches, until finally he's on the floor getting trampled. It's horrifying, like the running of the bulls, just no conscience for Sean's life.

........

Once the song is over, the pit opens and everyone spreads out awaiting the next song. What is seen, is "Sean" laying in a pool of blood, his face is covered in bruises, his Dixie Chicks shirt is ripped, he's lying unconscious. The bartender off camera yells.

Bartender: Shirley Temple, dirty.

The camera fades out at the serious, and still funny sight of seeing this fake Sean Libby out cold.

The Real Deal

The camera comes in on Ethan Cage, finally as, Ethan Cage, sitting with that confident smile, knowing you loved what you just saw. Ethan is sitting in a king's throne chair, basking only in a spotlight with no surrounding light around him. Ethan looks up, to reveal yet another light, this light is on a hanging briefcase, then Ethan Cage looks back down.

Ethan: Well hello Sean, you've had time to think about what I have already said. And I know you're actually going to try and say something a little clever, and you're gathering your thoughts as we speak. I fully expect your promo to be out any minute, I will be surprised though if I do see it out soon. But I have that thought in my mind that it would come out back to back just moments before our match. Well, you see, I don't need to know what's going on in your head. I think you know for a fact that I don't have a problem talking, but here's your problem. I'm not talking out of my ass, I totally know what I'm talking about, I have your history in my back pocket, I'm destroying you verbally and that skit is a great representation of your home life.

Ethan: Before coming here Sean, you were just weeks from being homeless, talking to your "homie" Malcolm.You found IWF in the paper and you took it upon yourself to come here and become the boy blunder you represent yourself as every week. You have history here Sean, and that's the only thing I semi respect about you, this has been your home for a year, and that's the extent of my jealousy for you. I'm stronger, I'm smarter and I know that in that ring, there is no one better, no one more adaptable and no one more hungry than me. You, you have lived this career out a constant failure, and in your heart you know that this will end up yet another one of your many failures. You have had your chance, you have had every chance you actually could have. You were in a group with Corey Casey, and still, you lived in the shadow of a stable, you couldn't bring yourself to rise along with them. Every stepping stone you actually had, led you nowhere.

Ethan: You were brought into the IWF by a man named Conner O' Shannon, there you were, at last call in a bar, and wouldn't you know, a man picked you up with promises of work....like a whore, which leads me to believe that you infact take after your mother. Under his wing, you gained no advantage, you took nothing to heart, and he left you here high and dry to fend for yourself. And here you are, the bastard child of your little stable. And God how it just can't be erased, because every week everyone sees you, including your little mentor, and he's reminded of the failure you are. He blamed himself, and couldn't take it anymore, and he can't come back as long as you're here because, you'd be a weakness. Every one of us would harp on that, and he'd leave again. Speaking of your mother, you actually have a promo screaming and complaining to your mother on the phone, like a child. I say bonus points for being a tool to your own mother. No matter how many dicks can fit into her mouth, you still can't find the time to respect her.

Ethan: Speakin' of dicks in mouths, how's Maria? She doin' good. God what a piece of ass, I mean the tits on her, the tip of my dick was pushing on the metal tongs on the zipper of my pants. I mean sure, you had your little soap opera that was some how supposed to represent a promo for a match but when it comes to matters of the heart, that takes precedence over making a living. What's sad is that how could Maria want a guy like you, a bottom feeder, a fuckin' nothing. She probably looks at you and asks herself what she did in a passed life that would ever allow her to end up with you. And where are you guys supposed to do it, Legoland, the Submarine ride at Disneyland, you certainly can't take her back home and do it. She looks at you, at your career here in the IWF and sees no future for you both, and no future for you in wrestling. Then she doesn't even know if she'd end up an O'Rourke, or a Libby, the whole thing is a clusterfuck. But hey, if you still have her number, tell her to ring me up. I won't end up with her, but she'll know what it's like to fuck a winner.

Ethan: Here is where you lose me. You wear make up to show creativity, and it's simply a crutch. You rely on that, because it gives people something to look at, to distract them from your lackluster promos that never really go anywhere. You have this "yes, you can" attitude, but as your record shows, when it comes to success, you simply can't.

Ethan: You know how I refered to your father as a closeted homosexual. Now thinking about it, maybe you could take after your father. Please hold for these words from Sean Libby.

Taken from Sean Libby's promo FEB 4th, 2012, a clip is played.

"You just watch. I'll show you that I'm no freak. I am a handsome man. And I don't need no woman to make it like that."

Back to our Anti-Hero Ethan Cage.

Ethan: Now what kind of a man wears make up, and doesn't need a woman. Let's see-

Ethan looks up and pretends to think.

Ethan: Ah yes, drag queens. Having so much respect for women, they actually become one. Perhaps that's what Maria saw, not a real man. Not a man that's going to bend her over, pull her hair and spank her ass. She saw a boy, a boy she would have to guide and work and the whole thing would just be horrendous. No woman wants that. You're not take charge, you're a take dick kind of man. She'd have to wear a strap on, she'd have to make up stories to her friends of why you walk bowl legged. It'd be embarassing for everyone involved.

Ethan: Here's how much of a bitch you are. You know how they say nice guys finish last, well, as much as you make everyone sit through your little dramas, our male audience may not have the stomach to sit through one of your Melrose Place episodes. So here's a foot note, you actually call a boy that's not your blood related child, your son. You help to raise Maria's son, after she left you for a man, not a boy, a man, sure he was a prick. But she chose to FUCK him over you, she chose to have a family with him and not you. That's the truth, flat out. You were no better than this piece of shit that used to hurt her and your "son", and now that you were chosen out of desperation, she all of the sudden needs you to raise her son. Because she knows you're that god damned gullible to fall for it. That you would always say yes, that you would always be a bitch and cave. So much so, that you're willing to take another man's scraps and make it your own because you yourself can't get any better. You call it love, I call it a cry for help, I call it your last chance. Like a dog eating food that fell off the dinner table, you'll eat it, and not only will you eat it, you'll think you're the luckiest dog in the world for having it. You see Sean, girls like Maria, they fall for me. The guy that can do no wrong, the guy that looks like he can take care himself and her. They want to feel protected, and what should your loss record tell her. See right now, she's watching HULU or Youtube and seeing this week's opponent, me. She's got his middle and ring fingers rubbing herself, biting her lip, getting moist down there. Just listening to me, knowing that this confidence is very real. That I will indeed be the winner. Don't be surprised Sean, if you're there sleeping next to her and she whimpers my name while the sheets are moving at a rapid pace. It's only natural for the female to want to be with an alpha male. There's only so many times she can look at you without feeling sorry for herself, and her life, and what she's subjecting her son to, as a male role model. Oh, but wait, you're with Serai now right, I guess you'll have to bring leave both women in your locker room for me then.

Ethan: Why don't we do this. After our match, I'll go to your locker room, bang your old lady, while you show posters of me to your son. Everyone wins, you no longer have the pressure of having your pseudo son praise you. He can look up to a real man and have bigger and better aspirations. Because no man wants the shit life you have. They end up there after constant fall outs and half assed attempts at succeeding. I mean think about it, do you really want to come home and see your boy in high heels and lipstick wanting to be you. Having him get his ass kicked in school. Think of how much shit he may be getting already over having a loser "sort of" dad. Think about the poor kid man.

Ethan: Also, as much as you hang out with this Malcolm guy, why is it every promo, you gotta sit there and complain to him about what's going on in the IWF. If this man is such a friend to you that he's on an IWF camera, he doesn't even take the time to watch IWF. Wow, that's how much you suck, he can't even fuckin' bother to watch you wrestle. I guess he'd rather hear it second hand out of the mouth of a whiney bitch.

Ethan: I've been in my share of relationships, and when I've come home, instantly my girl would hit me with how her day went. And as a guy, we gotta sit there and nod as if we're listening, while subtly trying to smell what we're having for dinner, or contemplating if we have to take a shit. Here's where I'm going with this, you, are Malcolm's ol' lady. He weekly goes out and hangs out with you, all he wants is a beer, forget about work and watch the game, and there you sit, next to him, telling him your day,...like a bitch.

Ethan crosses his fingers as his palms are infront of his face, his elbows propped up on the arm rests of the throne.

Ethan: You may have won Death Angel last week, but this new girl Serai, yeah, what did she have to deal with last week, oh that's right your complaining of your opponent. You were so afraid, you asked her "what if he kills me". God you're lame. That's the mindset you go into a match with. This week, you may be a step above Porter Macload of shit, but you are still nothing against me. What you were afraid of last week, well comes for you this week. You'll return to Serai the broke man you were afraid of becoming. And she'll have to nurse your ego back to health until you're back to your delusional self.

Ethan: You tell people that you're back and that you're better than ever. I've done my homework on you, as you can tell and from what I see, I see the same dickhead that walked into this company last year. There's no difference, what's your "better than ever", are you truly better than a piece of shit, because that's what you were before. You showed your opponent fear, now Death Angel may not have jumped on that, but I will. Because I'm the man you should really be fearing, I am the man with no soul. I am the man that wins at all costs, if it was to sell your own son, I'd do it. If it was to Hit the Lights on Serai, I'd do it in a heartbeat, without batting a eye. You know why I'm here, I'm no gimmick, I am Ethan Cage, what you see infront of you, is the same man off camera. I don't need to rely on anything other than my meticulousness in that ring and my obsession with knowing everything about my opponent. This will not only get me to the top, it'll keep me there.

Ethan: You, you don't really do anything to learn about your opponent, hell, it's all just the same week over and over. Now I have an ego, but you make your promos about you. Which is pretty big statement coming from me. But I keep it about wrestling, because this, is the best sport you could get into. I breathe it, you know a guy like me respects seldom things, hand picked, but once we've chosen what we love or respect, there's nothing that will stop us from protecting it. That's what these cameras here, are here for, what does Serai, Malcolm, your fight with your ex's boyfriend have to do with this business. I see that as a sign of disrespect, towards me and towards this business. You're self absorbed as if your silly little life is more important than the match you are in. Well, motherfucker, you're in for one hell of a match, because the match will always come first with me, which means I haven't taken my mind off this match since it was announced to me this week. I studied you like there was going to be a test at the end, and in a way, there will be.

Ethan: For being absolutely prepared for anything and anybody, above me will be my prize, the briefcase that will either get me a championship match, or a god's rule over IWF, now ask yourself. A brash, egotistical prick like myself, wouldn't I just love that kind of attention. Wouldn't I love the fear of the World Champion, or anyone else unlucky enough to cross my path. The answer is yes. You are young, as I am, but there are people who get life easier than others. I've learned and excelled, you, are still young in mind, your parents have you thinking that the world revolves around you, and you were dumb enough to believe it. Well, what's great about your positivity in your happiness to be mediocre, is this loss you're about to endure will be brushed off like all the other ones. But one day, it will hit you, you will wonder is it really your fault that you're not in main event matches. And no matter how positive you want to be, you want that spotlight, you want those eyes on you. You want your matches to matter. This is not the week for you, now this match will be fast paced with tons of high spots, but at the snap of my fingers, it will end. And I will move on, and you will be hearing my name out of our general manager's mouth, you'll be seeing my face on all the websites, it'll be tons of haters and tons of fans, and to me it won't matter, as long as they are talking about me. I will leave IWF one day fully accomplished and in it's hall of fame, because with the work I put into the ring, with the thought and time I put into learning my opponent and verbally killing my opponent, it's what I deserve. And to look at me Sean, I got it all, I deserve everything I get.

Ethan extends hands at either side of him with a confident smile.

Ethan: Because as fast as you are, there are things I can do in that ring you never will. Once we are in that ring together, and the people see what you are, and they look over at me and see what a wrestler can be, I'll make sure those people out there forget you. I'm made from pure grain awesomeness. Yes, I know you're going to hate, and I know your jealousy runs deep. Oh how you must curse god for not making you as good as me, I know, I wish everyone could muster at least 50 percent of what I can do but alas, I've set the bar way too god damn high. I'd like to apologize, but I can't find a shred of guilt or want to do that. I like to embarass my opponents, as you can see. You know that feeling that you're currently experiencing the pit of your stomach, that emptiness, knowing that I'm coming to drop you like Jenny Craig water weight, that's normal. All I can say is go out there, make things look pretty, and earn that pay check because you are of absolutely no competition to me. As far as you Sean, I'm unstoppable and there's nothing you can do about it.

Ethan: I can see you watching this now, your breaths are getting shallow, you're pacing wondering how bad I'm going to hurt you. Will I make this just a match, or has this gotten personal. Will you let me words fester in your brain. But is going to happen when you use that frustration for full, and you are blinded by it and I wrap my hands around your scrawny neck and ring until your eyes black out. Which is nothing you're not used to if you look at this year's Isolation. God damn kid, that look on your face when Ryan Apollos had that chain wrapped around your neck until you passed out, and the emts had to come out and make sure you were still alive.

Ethan laughs.

Ethan: Classic. No, not the match, just that look on your face when you realized just how helpless you were.

Ethan smirks.

Ethan: I don't know which one was worse to be honest, I mean that sight was pretty disturbing but so taking a wooden baseball bat to the face by Hostyle Jones. You bled like Serai on the 15th of every month.

Ethan has a wince on his face.

Ethan: Now, remember how I said your finishing moves allow your opponent so many opportunities to get out. Case in point, at Spring Fling, you went for your little Rainbow Dash and what happened, Robbie Hart ducked the superkick part of the equation. So instead of having a win over our current World Champion, you went sailing from the top of a ladder in the ring, to the announcer's table on the outside. Wow, you're like IWF's crash test dummy, your so called high spots involve you being choked out, bleeding to near death, or crashing through equipment at dangerous career ending heights, or a ninja falling off a cage and landing on you. Did I sayt crash test dummy, I meant you're the Wile E Coyote of the IWF. Sure you talk and he doesn't, but most everything that comes out of your mouth is full of so much bullshit, you might as well have not said anything at all.

Ethan: You told this world that you were that close to a win over Robbie, but ask yourself this, who remembers "that close". Do they remember what Robbie Hart did, yes, he put some punk wanna be through a table from a ladder....did you hear your name anywhere in there, because the losing end of that scenario doesn't matter.

Ethan: Since your title reign, you've had other chances at the High Impact title with Robbie Hart, you've had chances at the New Blood Championship, but who left that, ah yes, Ashley Matthews. You were the second one eliminated in a four way match, which makes you again, insignificant to yet another title match. You make mistakes, as you did in match when you tried to pin Johan and he reversed the pin, because you don't perfect your moves. Your training in your little high school self taught program never really should've been your preparation for the big leagues, because the outcome, you, is what comes out of it. How many times in title matches, are you just thrown into the mix to add another body, the IWF uses you as fluff, sparklers to the real fireworks of the show. In four ways, triple threats, as you proved at New Years Evil, your opponents dispatch of you as soon as possible, and get to the real threat and win matches.

Ethan: Seeing you go through all these mishaps has told me that you will never ever be one hundred percent, your body has gone through so much punishment, that it won't be able to withstand the pain I intend for it to go through. This will not be a spar with Liam Raines, this will be a massacre. As much as you are trying to get noticed, I'm going to do that much more work to actually achieve it.

Ethan: Now I'm not looking passed you Sean, but next week, the way I'm thinking this is going down, this briefcase business will be handled in a triple threat match. Assuming...fuck that, guaranteeing I'm in that match, in that ring may be Jinx or Pulsar Prime, and it will be Baron Tomson or Ryan Apollos, now I'm leaning towards Jinx and I haven't met Baron Tomson but I can tell you this, I saw his work in the ring, he's a sick demented bastard from ASWF, so I'm leaning towards him. No, I have no loyalties towards ASWF really, I came along with that package, I just know workers. Think of this, Jinx versus Ethan Cage versus Baron Tomas, I have to say that sounds pretty amazing, then again anything with my name attached is amazing.

Ethan: I've given you attention Sean, I've put eyes on you. It may not be the attention that you wanted or even ever thought you'd have, but it is on you none the less. I've put such a spotlight on you, a kind no one else ever has, to prove to my opponents this week, they are in for one long night. I'm making you my example Sean, because just as insignificant as you are in the ring, you are just as insignificant in this tournament. Think of the publicity, Ethan Cage shows up, replaces someone in the tournament, and wins the whole damn thing and moves on to title reigns and money, bigger matches, and main events. That is your future Sean, and whenever you see my name on the card, you'll have to look up. And you, you'll just be happy to still have your job.

Ethan: Okay, I'm over it, I'm ready to face you now Sean. Don't bring your A game, bring someone better than you's A game, because I want a real match. Nobody has the heart to tell you that you are a lazy two bit hack that dumbfucked his way to the second round. That you're part in this story is over. Every time, EVERY TIME you go up against someone of worth, you fall on your ass. Not only am I someone of worth, I'm the whole god damn pie. This phase of your life, where you happy to be pathetic, well I want you to dwell in that because one day you're going to look in the mirror and not like what you see. You'll come to realize that you are one of the biggest bags of douche we've come to see for a long time. You let people walk all over you because you have no spine. And your parents are ashamed to have birthed such a fuckin' leech on life. They look at each other blaming each other for such bad genes. How can they have raised such a feeble shithead. They are so happy to be on the road, because for those many days or months we are on the road, they can fuckin' forget you were ever even born.

The briefcase begins to lower, it comes down slowly without Ethan taking his eyes off the camera with a smirk. It comes down and lands in his lap.

Ethan: Libby, no matter how hardcore you think you are with your bubblegum tattoos and gayliner, you'll always be this to me.

Ethan: Feel better now you useless twat?

Ethan sits back relaxed.

Ethan: I know I do.

The camera fades to...

Black

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