The Empire [Baron Tompson and Parker Wayde] [vs.] Griffin Hawkins and Alexander Remington

IT'S A TRAP!

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or is it?

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Enjoy

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Scene One
Off Camera – Several weeks ago

He stood in my doorway as the tear-stained letter remained tightly grasped in my hand; a now former love telling me that it was over between us. She didn’t have the decency to tell me this in person or even over the telephone; she just wrote a letter and walked away, never to hear from her again. But there he stood with his arrogant smirk, dressed head to toe in his finest business attire as he must have looked at me with pity…no, pity is something Eric Telfor was not even capable of. I heard his voice as he told me that I was a mess, wishing for me to clean myself up and meet him downstairs in the living area – no doubt a ploy for us to conduct business. With him, there was no exchanging of pleasantries. With Eric Telfor, there was no small talk. Everything he did was for his own personal gain. Perhaps that’s why he and I always had a good understanding of each other.

So I did as he requested – reluctantly of course. I gave myself a shave and got dressed, finally making my way down the stairwell about twenty minutes later. He had found his way to my favorite chair, sitting comfortably with leg propped upon leg as he looked up at me, that same familiar smirk covering his face.

“Well it certainly is about time; I was beginning to worry that you had fallen back into the fetal position as you continued to weep pitifully because of some misguided puppy love,” he said matter-of-factly, shaking his head with disgust.

“Quite the charmer…”

“What? It’s true. Love makes a man weak. Love makes a man do things that are completely against his character in order to achieve, what? Some funny feeling in the pit of your stomach that you oft mistake for nausea? No,” he said, again shaking his head to the contrary, “I’m afraid such wastes of time are not for me, nor should they be for you.”

“I’ll leave that for me to decide,” I replied coldly, propping my back against the doorframe as I stared over at him. “But I know you and you didn’t come to talk about my love life, so out with it? Why has Eric Telfor decided to break into my home?”

“Break into…break into your home? No my dear boy, I merely discovered the key under the mat. Seriously, when will people learn that it isn’t safe to hide such valuable items in such easily found places? What if I carried ill will toward you Alexander?”

“You saying you don’t already?”

He chuckled to himself, sipping from a glass of liquor that he apparently had found while waiting for me.

“No, no, no, you are simply a man that owes me a favor. A very large favor in fact, seeing as your career apparently has resurrected from the ashes.”

Oh right…that. Prior to my arrival in IWF, during my days in UECW, I suffered a very problematic injury to the head, all because of Alexander Raven. I could have remained retired and lived the life of a man with everything – the money, the fame, the power, the glory…the girl. But I couldn’t go out like that – I couldn’t allow the lasting memory of Alexander Remington be that of a man whose head was caved in because of a cowardly son of a bitch. I had to make my return, and thinking that all my options were off the table, one man came to me during my time away. You guessed it, Eric Telfor. You see, Eric Telfor is not your average man of wealth and prestige and all that comes with that. There’s something different about him. He has resources that even I have not become privy to, and honestly, to this day I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to pair me up with one of his guys – a doctor that believed he had a remedy for that which ailed me. It was very experimental, but I felt as though I had no other choice. The one caveat, however, is that Eric Telfor made me agree that on the day in which he needed a favor, I would deliver for him whatever it was that he needed. I certainly didn’t know at the time the measure of my oath.

“Out with it then. I can’t imagine that you want money or power or position in this world – you’ve got all of that. What can I give to a man that already seemingly has everything?”

“What indeed,” he grinned, uncrossing his legs as he reached into a small bag beside him, pulling out several manila folders, laying them across the glass top of a table just in front of him.

“What are these,” I asked with curiosity as I came closer, opening each folder one by one. Before me were three folders and within these three folders was several pictures of one man; a man I did not personally recognize.

“The target of my favor, of course. I want you to eliminate this man for me. Shouldn’t be too difficult for a man of your past.”

“Man of my…what in the hell do you know about my past,” I said with an elevated tone.

“Oh please Alexander, with technology these days, I could probably pinpoint the size of your first meaningful bowel movement. I know all about you, what you used to be. I also know that this pretty little picture that you’ve painted for those who you’ve actually allowed to be in your inner circle is nothing but a giant fabrication. I presume it is because you don’t want them to be disgusted by what you did.”

“You know nothing about me…”

“Alright then, try this one on for size. You’ve told several that your wife and your child were killed because of the families of the men you put away while you served in some secretive branch of Special Forces, am I right?”

“Shut up…”

“Well wouldn’t those people be appalled to find out that you put your family in harm’s way; how you used them as bait to draw out those men and you were unsuccessful at keeping them alive?”

“You son of a bitch…”

“And you never even really were in Special Forces were you? You were more of a private contracted type guy weren’t you? See, I think you’re perfect for this job Alexander, because I happen to know that you made a living doing this kind of work. Sure, the ol’ gun might be a little rusty, and you might not exactly be who you once were, but boy wouldn’t it be a fun little game to see if Alexander Remington was able to kill again.”

“I won’t do it Telfor…I gave up that life. It’s over. I’m just a wrestler now.”

“Alright then,” he said as he stood to his feet. “But understand, I am only scratching the surface in saying what I know about you – about the acts which you performed; most of which are illegal in all but about three countries around the world. And if you don’t do this…job…for me, it won’t be such a secret anymore. You won’t be able to run from your past like you’ve done for the past decade. You’ll be exposed as the man you were, and I will make it my life’s work to bring you down; to see your pathetic display of a life spiral even further out of control until you are on your hands and knees begging for my favor. And I won’t give it to you, because I’ll remember how you spit in my face and you went back on your word. Remember Alex, you told me you’d do anything to get your career back – well here’s your chance to be that man of your word that you always pretend to be.”

I paused, neither affirming nor denying his accusations. I stared down at the photographs again, shaking my head as I coldly responded.

“And who is this man and why do you want him killed?”

He cracked a smile.

“I figured you’d come around eventually; it only took a little reminder of who you were to show you who you must become again, at least for a season. This man goes by the alias of Victor Blum, but he’s very much American. Real name is Jonathon Sibley. Let’s just say that just as I have some information on you, he’s…well, he’s been a bit of a nuisance for me as well.”

“And where can I find him?”

“That is the biggest mystery Alex, and one that you will simply have to figure out on your own. Last seen in Moscow, but God knows where he could be at this stage. You have resources; use them. I’ll give you all the means I can to assist you, but Intel – that is your own to gather.”

“This could take a while…I have a career if you couldn’t tell by now…one where I would be noticed if I just walked away…”

“Dear God Alex, do I have to spell everything out for you? You are rusty indeed. Fake a death in your family; fake an injury, I don’t care. Find a reason to get off the TV and complete this job, because honestly, this is the only thing that should matter to you at the moment. And you don’t have all the time in the world, so I suggest you get to work. If what he has on me gets out to the public, it not only will bring me down, but everyone associated with me as well. And lest you forget, you have been quite intertwined in many of my personal dealings. We’re tied at the hip Alexander, and unless you figure out how to get rid of this thorn in my side, we’ll both be finished.”

And so it began. The next week, I would go down with an apparent shoulder injury in my match against Griffin Hawkins, not to be seen again except for the rare ‘via satellite’ image to keep up appearances for a few weeks. I didn’t want to accept Eric Telfor’s proposal, but it appeared as though I had no other choice. I was, of course, indebted to him.

I wish I had just stayed retired…

_______________________________________

Scene Two
On Camera – Present Time

“Miss me yet?”

For the first time in weeks, I appeared live before the television audience in a different manner than simply via satellite. There I was, standing behind the glass windows overlooking the balcony of the suite Corey Casey loaned out to me prior to my arrival in Vancouver. The fire was burning on the east side of the apartment, the camera picking up the reflection of it from the glass as I looked out at the city, staying indoors for it was much too cold to meander around it at this time of year. Drink in my hand, as was the custom, I cracked a smile as I looked back at the camera – oddly enough, I actually seemed to miss speaking to it over the last few weeks; the stress of my aforementioned ‘business’ taking me out of the game for a while. More on that some other time.

“You know, it’s only been a few weeks, but it feels as though it has been forever; forever since I was able to stand tall representing the Empire and showing the masses just what a group of similarly minded individuals were capable of when their purpose was noble and justified. Everyone looked at us as the bad guys, as though Corey Casey was an evil brute who wanted nothing more than to ruin the lives and careers of those who opposed us, when really, the truth was far from that indeed. Chuck Matthews tried to oppose us, and look at where that got him. I have a feeling we won’t be hearing from him for quite some time…”

I smiled as I took a quick sip of the concoction resting in my glass before continuing.

“Chuck, while you lay there in your hospital room, trying to ascertain what happened to you last week, understand that you, my colleague, were shown mercy by Corey Casey. Because while the Empire did their best to take you out of commission for quite some time, you were a blessed man that I could not make it to the arena that evening to finish you off personally. Understand that you are fortunate that I was sidelined with this nagging shoulder injury, and because of that one match against Griffin Hawkins nearly a month ago, you were allowed to be rolled out of that arena with your life intact. I end careers; I change lives. I would have rewritten the history books, only to wipe the name and the legacy of Chuck Matthews out of the records completely. IWF no longer would have been about what Chuck Matthews did, but rather what the Corey Casey, Alexander Remington, and the rest of the Empire was able to accomplish during their reign. You tried to oppose us and bring your band of brothers against us, but in this war, guys like us…we always come out on top.”

Continuing on, I shrugged my shoulders as I made my way into the living room, having a seat on the black leather sofa as the camera followed my every move.

“I wasn’t planning on making my return for quite some time – my shoulder, it’s all well now; I am indeed fortunate that it was not a tear but rather just some general soreness that needed rest and relaxation, and my time away from this sport allowed me that very opportunity, but I had intended to take even more time off just in case. But Corey Casey, he gave me an offer that I simply couldn’t refuse. You see, at Violent Impulse, I would have become the UECW champion had my shoulder not given out. Griffin Hawkins knows this as the truth, which is the reason why he conveniently retired that championship immediately thereafter. He knew that the day would come where I would make my return, and like the coward that he is, he retired the championship so that he could selfishly proclaim himself as the last ever UECW champion. He knew his days were numbered, so he did the only thing he’s been capable of his entire career – he ran. Oh, he talks a big game about how he’s open to every fight; to every challenge. But when push comes to shove, he’s a coward.”

I raised a finger in the air as an ‘aha’ type gesture, continuing making my point.

“But Corey Casey, he wouldn’t let bygones be bygones. No, he called me up and he asked if I would be available for this week at Battle Grounds because he knew just what would get me on my feet and wrestling again, and that was a chance to right the wrongs and to correct the mistakes in my early days here at Insurgency. A chance to do what was right; a chance to take out Griffin Hawkins once and for all. But he didn’t offer a match against Griffin; he gave me the next best thing. An opportunity for one night only to resurrect the greatest fucking tag team ever known to man – Hawkington.”

“Don’t get it all confused though, Griffin, because I’m not interested in fighting the good fight with you anymore. Those days are over. You are the reason for what is going to take place on Monday night. The card may say that we are partners, but in reality, we are far from that indeed. The odds are stacked against you Griffin, and my advice to you would be to not even show up. To not even compete. To throw in the white towel of surrender before it even gets started. For once, listen to Stygian, because this time, he’s right. You are outnumbered and outclassed in each and every way. I’m not coming to that ring to fight by your side. With my friends and allies in Parker Wayde and Baron Tompson assisting me, we are going to pave the way for the Empire to truly be established in IWF. We are going to do to you what happened to Alexander Raven a month and a half ago. Except this time, there will be no coming back for the rock and roll superstar…”

Oh right, Alexander Raven…how could I forget that issue.

“Because a month and a half ago, I tortured and mutilated and destroyed Alexander Raven and then allowed Baron Tompson the opportunity to strike the match. I chopped the logs, I split the wood, I built the campfire, and then I gave him a teeny tiny match to simply light the kindling before my entire creation and handiwork went ablaze. No sour grapes Tompson, I know you took and continue to take sole credit for being the man that took out Alexander Raven, and while I could go on a long diatribe about how you barely did anything that night, I will digress. While I could mention the fact that in my absence, you pretended as though you were Corey Casey’s right hand man and that you were the cog that made the Empire’s wheel turn and not me, I will refrain. Because Monday night isn’t the night to air out our dirty laundry. Monday night isn’t the night to prove to you that you are simply a follower of my success and my legacy. Monday night isn’t the night to show that when I say jump, you ask how high. No, Monday night is bigger than that. So while I could hypothetically fight alongside Griffin Hawkins just to take out my frustrations of hearing you actually proclaim yourself to be the Empire’s top dog while I was sitting at home on the couch mending my wounds; where I could show my irritation for you taking credit for what happened to Alexander Raven; while I could hypothetically seek to show Corey Casey and the rest of you who think that you can take my place and fill my shoes in my absence that you have no idea how to handle that type of pressure and that type of expectation and how you all are unable to even shine my boots much less wear them, alas, this night is about ending the career of my former friend and my former brother in Griffin Hawkins.”

“So please, Parker, and please, Baron, don’t let the fact that you two have only continued what I have set in motion all along cause bitterness between us. Don’t let the fact that I’ve put you two in a position to succeed out of my own hard work and dedication to this cause create anger and animosity on Monday night. And please, whatever you do, Baron, don’t let the misguided notion that you could ever replace me or do half of what I’m capable of in or out of the ring cloud your ability to see our purpose clearly on Monday night. Because it isn’t about your errors in judgment or your failures to live up to my judgment of you when I told Corey Casey that I wanted you in the Empire; it isn’t about the fact that Corey Casey had to personally call me out of my break because he saw cracks in the walls of the Empire and needed his top dog to return just to make the Empire viable again.”

“You know what Monday night is about; you know our purpose. Don’t let your failures ruin what has to take place on Monday night.”

I slowly held my glass to my lips, drinking the remainder of the contents within before setting it down on the table in front of me. Standing to my feet, I walked out of the room and away from the view of the camera, never to be seen again until Monday night.

_________________________

[/center]

...of the night. This really is a pivotal night in and of itself though. One last chance to get the ball rolling before taking on the big man. One last chance to try and start some momentum in the win column of his record. One last chance for Parker to show that he belongs in the show. Not only in the show though, but on the marquee. Parker has one last chance to get something going before the biggest fight of his career. Either he can put together a winning streak, or he can continue on his losing streak. At this point that is what it is. Since winning the High Impact title two months ago he hasn't done anything noteworthy. He won it, lost to Stygian twice, got his ass handed to him twice by Steel Angel, drew against someone that he should have beaten, and then lost the title. It's a miracle that he is even in position to take on the World Champion right now. Murmurs have already started in the locker room. Chants have been heard from the crowds. Blogs on the internet have been blowing up about it. This is the beginning of the fall of Parker. The kid had one hell of a roll to start off with, but now he is showing that he just really can't hack it. If anything about tonight could be termed the "most important" thing... it is that Parker needed a win, and he couldn't afford to be carried through it by his partner. If this really was the beginning of the fall of Parker, it was going to be on him. If he goes to the top, it is because he picked up the win in the center of the ring. If he went to the bottom, it is going to be because his shoulders were the one on the mat. There is no third option about it. Tonight Parker needed to turn it around, or face the music.


... of the show. Honestly if Parker had to pick a time where he is most at piece it is here and now. Alone in a locker room. The arena empty. The calm before the storm. Somebody that notoriously hates to be around others would be find his solace before the arena became a mad house. Most of the roster loves the thrill of walking through the curtain. Even more love performing in the ring in front of a packed house of fans. Alone in the locker room is where Parker finds his thrill. The game planning of what he wants to do in the ring. The tense build-up leading into the start of the show. The quiet forces every minute to drag on for hours. Parker has all the time in the world to just sit with his thoughts, and that is what he is doing on this very night. The front legs of the steel chair that he sits in are off of the ground, the heels of his feet resting against them. The back of the chair comes just an inch from the wall behind him, with his head being the only part of his body holding the balancing act in place. It takes a certain kind of calm to balance with that kind of comfort. A sudden move, or shift in his weight could cause the chair falling back against the wall, or disappointing back to the floor in front of him. Parker's eyes are closed, but nobody would mistake him for being asleep. The door of the room pushes open slowly, but not nearly silently. Parker doesn't even so much as flinch. He knows who is coming to see him without having to open his eyes or utter a word. It's Edwin… it was always Edwin as of late.

Parker: Forgive me for not getting up. I have shit to do tonight.

Edwin looks over at the man, still with his eyes closed, in his chair along the wall. Parker doesn't seem to have moved, or otherwise prepared for this conversation. Edwin actually takes a second to wonder if it was just his imagination that Parker had addressed him at all. He takes a step forwards, towards the superstar and almost immediately wishes he could take it back.

Parker: I am going to have to ask you to stay the hell over there where you are if you know what is good for you. We have gone over this for the last month. I am not interested in answering your questions.

Edwin: You're right... but I am not interested in "fucking off" as you have so eloquently put it.

Parker: It may not sound as pretty as you are used to it sounding, but you have probably heard the same thing from about a thousand other people you have stalked in your career.

Edwin: Stalked? Is that what you think this is? Stalking someone involves having an obsession with them. I don't even really like you. If you just tell me the answer that I am looking for, you will never see me again.

Parker: That is not going to happen, and unless there is something else, I am going to have to ask you to leave. That little media pass only gets you so much of my time. Even it can't stop me from getting rid of you after a few moments.

For the first time in the conversation Parker opens his eyes and shoots the reporter a glare. Edwin has to summon all of his strength in order to not take a step away from those eyes. The battle between his sense to flee, and his stubborness to stay is blatantly shown on his face. Parker smirks at his struggle and then shuts his eyes again, returning the back of his head to the wall and balancing his chair off the floor once more.

Edwin: You seem so proud of yourself to be able to intimidate someone that isn't in the business of hurting people like you are. So what? I am supposed to leave you alone merely because you are uncomfortable by my presence? You might be able to sit against that wall and act all cool and collected, but there is a reason that you weren't surprised to see me here tonight. There was a reason that you didn't flinch when I came in the door.

Parker: [interjecting to break the rant] You better stop before you have yourself an epiphany over there Ed.

Edwin: The reason you didn't move when I came in, is because I am already in your head Parker. You may not be intimidated of me physically, but don't you think for a second that you fool me. You knew that I was going to be here. You knew that I was going to come barging in here at some point. You know that most people in this building will leave you alone, but there will always be that one person that will come strolling in to your locker room regardless of what you say to them. You know that I am not going away any time soon. It scares you. So let's cut the shit Parker. I want to know what you know.

Parker sets the chair down on all fours and leans forward in the chair. He looks up towards Edwin with a defeated look on his face. Sighing, he shakes his head and gets up to his feet. Edwin doesn't feel the need to back away from the star this time. Maybe Parker has finally realized that this moment has been a month coming. The Instant Impact steps in front of him, and places a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at him, with no malice in his eyes, and Parker mutters eleven words that cause Edwin's eyes to go ghostly white.

Parker: You really do not want to know what you are asking.

With that Parker brushes past him and out the door of the locker room. As the door softly closes behind him, he realizes that he has done little more than buy himself a little more time. Edwin would be back again next week, probably even asking the same questions. This wasn't the end of their story...


This is the beginning…

...of the worst night of Griffin Hawkins' life. You see Hawkins, you mocked me. In case you find yourself to be too daft to remember the racist shit he said about Parker before the last time that I stepped into the ring with him, let's take you back. Bad neighborhood, stereotypical insults, racist comments were all in play. There is a problem with the picture that he painted of me though. You see Hawkins, I wasn't some street thug in North Carolina. I didn't grow up in the worst place in the world. I didn't see drug deals on the corners, and honestly I don't like grape soda. My mom was long dead by the time I hit middle school, and my dad was an upstanding enough guy to send me to college. I didn't learn this craft the hard way. I learned how to take people apart in a gym. I wrestled my way into history books at Wake Forest. I busted asses legally a dozen time more than I did in back alleyways and street corners. Parker isn't someone that has a typical background that you can simplify in some promo. It isn't me. You have me all wrong. Parker is dangerous, especially for you, because you don't seem to have a clear grasp on what it is you are dealing with when you step into the ring with me.

On the contrary I seem to have a pretty good grasp of the situation at hand, and if I wasn't dangerous enough for you to be rethinking showing up to the match tonight, there is plenty of other things that you should be worried about. The Empire is against you, myself and Blaze. The Empire stands behind you, Remington in your corner for tags. To me you seem to be standing between a rock, a hard place, and a fire. We have you surrounded, and all of us have a reason to want to hurt you. To say that Corey Casey has stacked the deck against you is an understatement. To say that this is going to be a sham of a match would be an understatement. To say that Parker is going to be able to make up for the things you said about him is AN UNDERSTATEMENT. I will see you broken in front of me. I will see you hurt. I will see you ripped apart. Now other people in The Empire might think of this as a present for Corey Casey, but I see this as a present for me. You are being served up to Parker on a silver platter.

What exactly does that mean for you? I mean, you are the world champion of a defunct company. In this business I guess that means that you are in line for a title shot of some sort here. I guess this means that tonight you get to step into the ring with the man that you are going to try and take a world title of a FUNCTIONING company from. I can more than assure you that the small taste of my foot in your ass that you got last time we were in the ring together is going to be nothing like what is going to happen to you tonight. Tonight you get to do a little scouting, but by a little, I really do mean a little. I give you five minutes in that ring before you lose control. I give you five minutes before you realize that the house always wins. I give you five minutes before you are no longer able to stand on your own two feet. This night is the beginning of your end in MY company. The only new name on this roster that is going anywhere near the top of the card is mine. You are going to have to find some place that you can carve out for yourself near the bottom, or get the hell out. There is only one Instant Impact in this company, and tonight it is going to break your neck.[/center]


[right]This is the beginning…

Of Parker’s rise to the top of this company... Of road to the IWF Title… Of the road to beating Stygian. Parker may have stumbled a bit as of late but if there is one thing that is true, when you put a champion across from Parker with their title on the line, all he does it kick their ass and take it from them. I did it to Cody Taylor. I did it to Hostyle Jones. I did it to Jinx. Every time someone has put their belt on the line against me I have left them in pieces while I walked away with it. Let's think about what that means. Parker is the odds on favorite in a main event venue. Parker has never lost a bout when it stands to win a championship. Then there is this saying we need to take into consideration. Something like "third time's the charm." Parker got dominated the first time he stood across the ring from the "real world champion", then a few weeks later Parker got his chance to dominate that man. We went blow for blow Stygian. We threw our best shots at each other, and you only escaped by disqualification. I didn't ask Bad Comapny or The Empire to intervene, so as far as I am concerned they did so to help you get away from the beating you were going to get from me. Now you have to ask yourself what that points to for our third meeting. You can say that you have beaten me twice, but have you really do the job the second time. Did you beat me worse the second time, or did I get all the more closer to putting you down like the old dog that you are? Did you live up to calling yourself superman in our second meeting, or did people start to ask if maybe I was your kryptonite? You seem to have kept your distance from me since then Stygian. You seem to have figured out a way around me backstage. I haven't so much as seen you around. It doesn't really matter to me though, I already know how the third time is going to end. I took your best shot last time and walked away the better man. Third time I am walking away with a strap on my shoulder. You just remember that I tried to warn you beforehand.