REBEL: Four-Corner Elimination

[Ryan Ro [NAPW]]

REBEL FOUR-CORNER ELIMINATION MATCH
Warren vs David Banks vs Cataclysm vs Stylin' Kyle Roberts

The slacker, the hater, the enigma, and the style. One of these four men will walk out of the Supershow with a win and a shot at any REBEL title he wishes!

[Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL]]

(We fade up on Kyle Roberts, walking around Raleigh at dusk.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Here we are again, the end of another REBEL show and Stylin' Kyle Roberts has just lost another match! So why aren't I going around, flipping tables over and making threats? Because I've got yet another shot at any gold belt I want. You see, REBEL understands that Kyle Roberts equals ratings. They'll never admit that to you. And they'll make sure everyone else gets a damn title shot ahead of me, but eventually, they'll come around.

Culture Clash has come and gone. And before I talk about the humongous news of REBEL's first stable, I'll tell you exactly why I got another shot at claiming REBEL gold: I had that (BLEEP)ing match won.

It took two people teaming up to eliminate me. Two Americans, Krenshov and Corstenoca, looked at me, looked at each other, saw that I had eliminated three people from that ring, and figured out pretty quickly who the real threat was. That's right, this good ol' Canadian boy put the fear of God into the man-beast Krenshov and Chris "The Sparx" Corstenoca. And so, yet again, I'm getting the ass-end of the deal.

But you know what? It's nothing to get my nose out of joint about. Because I'm in an actual four-way elimination match. None of this one-fall-four-corners bullshit. I can no longer lose a match because I'm outside beating the shit out of someone. I can't lose because someone decided to throw me out over the top rope. The only way I can lose this time is if someone manages to either pin me or make me submit.

And who's going to do that? Warren, the Silent Bob and Jay wanna-be? When I get through with him, he'll have a lot more pain than some slushee headache. I'll strain his back, make that little bitch submit to the Bear-tamer. It's not going to be Cataclysm. You're going to try to beat me with kicks, boy? One good Polarizer, and you'll be so woozy, it'll take all your wits about you to stand, let alone unleash a Blue Ruin on me. Emerald Fusion, one, two, three, and the only letters you'll be writing in the near future will be pleas to the government for bigger welfare checks.

Or maybe David Banks!

(Kyle grins ruefully and chuckles.)

David Banks. One half of the NAPW tag team champions, along with Lloyd Rees. One of the dirtiest players in the game today. You know, Banks, under different circumstances, the two of us could be friends. If there's one person I would be wary of in the ring, it's you. The Mid-card Killer. The Charismatic Crossface. Beyond Belief. There's many ways for you to get it done in that ring, and you're unpredictable. And to top it all off, I'll have to watch out for the ever-present steel chair. You're a man like me, Banks.

And if THAT wasn't enough, now you're a part of the new Crimes? Wow, man, you must be on top of the world! You've got one belt already, there's the safety in numbers with your clique, AND you're allied with the NAPW owner and REBEL Heavyweight champion Rex Caliber. There's a lot of contingencies that you can draw on in Edmonton.

So, riddle me this, David, come Wednesday morning, what will you blame your loss on? Will your posse not be quick enough? Would you be distracted by the other two losers in that ring? Or maybe, just maybe, all the good karma you've got on your side just won't mean a (BLEEP)ing thing when you go up against Stylin' Kyle Roberts.

Because as good as you are, Banks, as smart as you are, as much as I grudgingly respect what you can do in that ring, you are nothing - and I mean NOTHING! - compared to me. When it all comes down to you and me, I am faster than you, I am stronger than you, and I am smarter than you.

And when it comes to the Crimes, well, as dominant as Rex Caliber is, I have kicked the collective Crimes ass before. There's not a (BLEEP)ing thing Rex Caliber can do to me, because I am not on the NAPW roster. And if he comes at me before I challenge him for the Heavyweight title? I'll sue his ass.

And, well, REBEL knows a money match when they see it. Caliber/Deathrow was pathetic. Caliber/Bruno? Well, after the shit hit the fan, the fans want to lynch you, Banks. They want to throttle your tag partner, Lloyd Rees. And they're out for Rex's blood. Caliber/Corstenoca? Well, it's only the newbie's second REBEL match. There's nowhere to go but up for him, should he lose against Rex this week in Edmonton.

But Caliber/Roberts, the rematch? For the REBEL Heavyweight belt? That's a money match right there, Banks. And after last week's near-riot, I'm sure the bosses upstairs will be frantic for something to give the fans the next time REBEL hits Raleigh.

So I've got my eyes on the prize. I went through three people last week for a shot at the belt, I can sure as (BLEEP) do it again. And, I must admit, when my competition's a metalhead loser, a hooded deviant, and a fifth-rate version of yours truly? I've got nothing to lose, do I?

In a few short days, I return to wrestle in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. And unlike the LAST time I was billed for an Edmonton NAPW show, I'll show up and wrestle. Say what I want about the Edmonton fans, and they ARE a bunch of half-wits who couldn't find their asses in the dark, they're ten times smarter than the fans that come to the Raleigh shows. At least they can find their country on a globe. The Edmonton fans will hate to cheer me, but, hey, let's face it: Who else to they have to cheer in my elimination four-way? I'm the (BLEEP)ing man, and, well, you think I get booed, Banks? Man, that'll be nothing compared to what you'll see when you enter Polish Hall along with your new masters Rex and Static.

I am Stylin' Kyle Roberts. And unless the three of my opponents smarten up, shape up and become the next generation of wrestling, I will be the next REBEL champion. I will take on all comers and defeat them handily. Just like I always do.

(Kyle Roberts walks out of frame, and we fade from the Raleigh cityscape to black.)

[cataclysm]

Personal Journal of Alexandr K Mortimer
Entry Three

I don't know what else to do.

Cataclysm lost another match. Sure, the odds were stacked up against him, but that's no excuse after what I've seen him do! This could be our last chance. A four-corner elimination contest for a shot at any title the winner should decide. Naturally I'd be excited, but neither Cataclysm nor I can handle another loss. Well, maybe Cataclysm can...

I decided to check into his opponents. Warren, David Banks, and Kyle Roberts. David Banks is nothing new, but Cataclysm will have to up his game in order to bring it to him this time. Warren, apparently a slacker, shouldn't be much trouble. He is a slacker. And then there's Kyle Roberts. Apparently a five time NAPW tag team champion with the "Beast". The man taking on Caliban for the second time. Mr. Roberts is obviously a very talented wrestler, and sneaky. Cataclysm simply MUST grow eyes on the back of his h

[ Alexandr Mortimer, looking tired and frustrated, puts his journal to the side thinking that simply writing it down is not enough. He turns to his counterpart, Cataclysm, deeply and quietly asleep across from him on their bus on the way to Edmonton, Alberta for the NAPW / REBEL supershow. His face obviously hidden by the hood, his head is leaning on the window. Mortimer has an aisle seat. People have neglected to sit down next to Cataclysm, as they know him as a REBEL wrestler, or perhaps just think he's wierd. Mortimer was unfortunate enough to be stuck next to a greasy old man, his head leaning back as he snores very loudly, periodically choking on his own saliva, drooling all over the edge of Mortimer's seat. Mortimer works up the courage and takes a seat next to Cataclysm, who immediately wakes up. ]

Alexandr Mortimer: Good morning my friend!

[ Despite the fact that it must be close to eleven o'clock at night, Mortimer insists on "Good morning." Cataclysm rubs his eyes with his left hand before taking a swig of his Dasani water. Mortimer gulps. ]

Alexandr Mortimer: Ahh, perhaps we should discuss your big four-corner match coming up?

[ Cataclysm leans his head back to the window, ignoring him. The bus has stopped and is letting all passengers out. All except manager and fighter. Mortimer rolls his eyes. He hesitates, but shakes Cataclysm's nearest shoulder. The patient Cataclysm simply lifts his head and half-glances at Mortimer, tired. The bus starts to roll away again, after the hissing noise of releasing the air pressure of the engine retarder brakes. ]

Alexandr Mortimer: Listen, we do need to talk. I can't handle for you to lose another match. There are three guys that are going to go into that ring with you on Tuesday and try to rip your limbs off. Well, at least two. You are going to need to stay sharp.

[ Cataclysm cuts off Mortimer. ]

Cataclysm: Listen, Mortimer, I realize that I have a huge match this week, despite my less-than-sublime win-loss record. I realize that I have to wrestle against Warren, the slacker who just really doesn't seem to understand where he's put himself. David Banks, a man I have been in the same ring with before but never really had head-to-head combat with, although he apparently enjoys using the plunger. Friends with Lloyd Rees, Static, and the infamous Rex Caliber. Lastly, Kyle Roberts, five-time NAPW tag team champion with former partner Bruce "The Beast" Richards, a man who happens to be competing against Caliban in a Dog Collar match on Tuesday. Roberts assaulted his partner on an NAPW show well before REBEL was formed. Don't treat me like I don't know, Mortimer, because I know.

[ Mortimer looks absolutely speechless. Almost like the two have switched attitudes. ]

Cataclysm: I also realize that I have had two matches that I have lost. Brian Bruno? Back then he was the better man. Would you get over it? It's been, what? A month and a half? I told you, I don't fight to improve any record, I fight to earn respect, and if you remember what I did last week...

[ FLASHBACKS. Cataclysm diving over the top rope wiping out three men in the TLC match a few weeks ago. CUT. Cataclysm wiping out Murcielago with a wicked enziguri up the ladder. CUT. Cataclysm wiping out Matthew Kurtis with a barbed-wire enduced spinning wheel kick to the face.

Back to present. Mortimer remembers, nodding his head. ]

Cataclysm: I know what I'm doing, Mortimer, so don't treat me like I'm a rookie. I may not have the best record in the world, but what does it matter? I may win this week, I may lose, but either way the respect is mine. This time, no one will stand in my way. Not the slacker, not the style, and certainly not the hater. There is only one thing that these men will leave remembering and that is the Blue Ruin.

[ Cataclysm lies back to the window, leaving Mortimer to sit with his mouth and eyes wide. The snoring old man doesn't bother him now as he retreats to his own seat, pulling out his Apple laptop. Cataclysm raises his head as Mortimer clicks away at the keyboard, bringing up Stylin' Kyle Roberts latest promo. Mortimer watches as Cataclysm listens, and when it's over Mortimer closes the laptop and looks at Cataclysm, as though to say "What about this?" ]

Cataclysm: Even worse than before. I am being taken for granted again, Mortimer. Do you know what this means?

[ Mortimer takes a moment to wonder if the question was rhetorical or not. When he decides it's not, he opens his mouth and takes a breath. ]

Cataclysm: "Styling" Kyle Roberts will have to be the first man I fight, or perhaps even the last, in order to gain respect from this man. I know his history, maybe the "respect" of Kyle Roberts is merely a myth. Whether I win or lose Kyle will believe I am still a joke. The only difference is that if I win he'll try to come up with some rediculous excuse to justify his loss. Kyle Roberts is a man blinded so deeply by his own ego, he actually believes the content bursting from his lips. The man can't help but to boast and brag. He thinks he's the greatest thing this company, this world, has ever seen. I beg to differ. Polarizer, Emerald Fusion, these are all wrestling moves. Every wrestling move has a weak point, or an opening to take to avoid it. Just like every wrestler has a weak point. And with God as my witness, I will find Kyle's weak point. I'll find the ability to evade and turn against him every move he could possibly throw at me. Nothing fears me, neither death nor defeat. And certainly not Kyle Roberts. I don't care who you think you are, there's nothing to rescue you from the Blue Ruin.

[ The bus stops again, letting on more passengers. Cataclysm leans back against the window. It is clear that he has said all that was needed to be said. Fade to black. ]

[warren]

[Chomp.]

Warren: mmm man, this burrito is good. It's like, so good. It would only be better if like it was filled with delicious refried beans AND DELICIOUS real fruit filling. Dessert and supper together? Way!

[Chomp. Warren is sitting on the curb out front of the Circle K as usual, chowing down on the breakfast of champions, which is a microwave burrito, a Super Big Gulp, and like, a DELICIOUS Hostess Fruit Pie.

Warren likes things to be DELICIOUS. And coming out of individually wrapped packages.

Oh and there's like, this sign? This hand-made cardboard sign above Warren hanging from the Circle K window, with an arrow pointing down. It says:

SLACKER

In big sharpie written markers.]

Warren: So like, last week I had a most excellent match against this guy "Sick" Billy Kryenik, and you know, people say I only did it because he had a fever of like a hundred and five or whatever, but I got my first win in professional wrestling. Like, ever. Dude, I was so stoked! I totally won the match, how could anything be more excellent?

I mean, I went out there and beat one of the most totally feared dudes in wrestling today, man! This guy, Canada Cup winner, two-time tag team champion, master of the TaiPei Deathmatch and stuff, and I beat him. No guff! It was totally awesome. I would've thrown a party but it was too much work, so instead I just came here and decided to splurge.

I got both cheery AND apple flavored DELICIOUS Hostess Fruit Pies. I mean dude, that's like, so totally awesome it's not even funn---

[THE DOOR! BURSTS OPEN! And Rahim the counter guy steps out, looking cross.]

Rahim: Warren! Listen, you are always bringing the cameras around here and you sit there and you eat your microwaveable dinners, and you never do anything! This is not a lot for loitering! Why are you such a slacker?

Warren: Hey Rahim man, I'm a paying customer, dude, so what the haps?

Rahim: Because you are a slacker! I have no time for slackers in my business! Slacker!

Warren: Hey man!

[To the shock of Rahim and probably Warren, the W-Man is like on his FEET suddenly, looking hot. As in angry, not hawt.]

Warren: Dude, are you sayin'... are you like totally being bogus and saying that I'm...

A SLACKER???

Rahim: Yes! That is exactly what I am saying! You are a slacker! You slack and produce nothing! I am in here working!

Warren: Dude I'm working, I'm totally filiming a promo for my match on Tuesday in Edmonton! Get it mondo hype and totally show those guys that I'm not a dude who's going to beat beaten up, not after I won my first match last week. Winning a title shot would be totally awesome, dude!

Rahim: You are sitting here eating your dinner and talking while somebody films it! On my curb! In front of my store! With this... what is this sign on my window? You slacker! Ugh, you slack so much!

Warren: Slack this man!

[In a huff, Rahim enters back into the store. Meanwhile Warren turns to the camera, comically trying to look intimidating. Tough to do when you can't even grow facial hair.]

Warren: Show him who's a slacker. Slacker dude. Now where was I? Oh yeah, I know.

So what's going to happen on Tuesday night in Edmonton? I'll tell you what, dudes! Me, Warren, winning any title shot in REBEL I want! No way, you say? No dude. WAY. Way, I say. Most triumphant!

[And now? Warren returns his attention to a most pressing matter...

Chomp.]

[Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL]]

(Friday night, and one Raleigh nightclub is the place to be! The lights are flashing, the techno pumping, ladies dancing, and Stylin' Kyle Roberts is sitting at a table, nursing a Bloody Mary. Ryan Kingston walks into frame, his own cocktail in hand.)

RYAN KINGSTON: Man, this place is packed!

KYLE ROBERTS: Yeah. Funny that a swingin' spot like this can't make a (BLEEP)ing Caesar to save their lives.

RYAN KINGSTON: Maybe Clamato hasn't caught on here like it has back home.

KYLE ROBERTS: Unbelievable! How can North Carolinans live so close to the Atlantic Ocean and not realize that a smattering a clam juice will improve their tomato juice that much? Hey, Ryan, were you aware that the Caesar's a Canadian invention?

RYAN KINGSTON: Only because every time I try to forget that trivia, you manage to remind me every time you drink one?

KYLE ROBERTS: (oblivious) Yep, it was created by a bartender at the Calgary Westin! (He looks at his drink.) Still, this Bloody Mary will do, I guess. (Kyle scans the bar.) So, see any prospectives?

RYAN KINGSTON: What?

KYLE ROBERTS: Any ladies that could use an injection of Vitamin K? Come on, Ryan, you're supposed to be my wingman here! It's Friday night, and I need relief from my stress!

RYAN KINGSTON: You are aware we have a flight to Edmonton at ten in the morning, right?

KYLE ROBERTS: And I'll be on that flight. But if I don't hook up with someone tonight, I'll be a seething mass of pent-up aggression come my Four Corner match.

RYAN KINGSTON: I fail to see how that happens to be a bad thing.

KYLE ROBERTS: Because I'll lose focus, Ryan! And focus is what I'll be needing to triumph in that match against Banks, Warren and Cataclysm! The focus to tear them apart, piece by piece. The focus to pin three men. The focus to break their backs in a Beartamer. The focus to come out of that match with a shot at Rex Caliber or Chris Corstenoca for the biggest prize in Raleigh!

RYAN KINGSTON: It's good that you've thought about this.

KYLE ROBERTS: Of course I thought about this! What am I going to do, run into the ring, try to take on three men at once, and leave with nothing to show for it? I'm damn sure that my opponents would LOVE that. Especially Cataclysm. He thinks that a good showing is going to make me respect him? Pffft. He's obviously not aware that respect is just another weakness. If I respect someone, I may end up not giving all I have against them, and in REBEL Pro? I am to rule, not lose with respect.

Like for instance, the one man in this match I HAD respect for isn't doing anything to keep that respect. David Banks. He was a class act, in my opinion. He had the skill, the attitude, the disdain to make it big wherever he went! The man was going places! Hell, I even owe the guy a favour! But he had to go and join everything that's wrong with REBEL, Rex Caliber! Whoa, horsie! It looks like David Banks as a lot of learning to do about hooking one's wagon to the wrong star.

You see, Banks, I've been there already, and I happened to ally with Chris Casino, the cockiest man in NAPW. The Rat Pack was there to rule! But once Chris managed to get his hands around the big title? That's where it all started to go downhill. All of a sudden, the only reason he needed allies was to keep that NAPW Title around his waist. And if you happened to be successful in other pursuits, like when the New and Improved D-X happened to win the tag team titles again, if you happened to get anywhere NEAR the glory of Casino? Well, we all saw what happened. He cast us aside. He cast Evan Cartwright aside. All because of his fat bloated ego.

Now look at yourself, Banks. Tag team champion with Lloyd Rees. Allied with the REBEL champion, who also happens to be the (BLEEP)ing NAPW OWNER to boot! Yeah, I can't see anything going wrong in this situation at all. I mean, Pope Calibre the First won't do anything destructive now, will he? I mean, it's not like he took a successful business and destroyed it, just because he could ruin the lives of his employees now! I mean, that would be counter-productive, wouldn't it? (Kyle's eyes widen, as he covers his mouth with his hand.) Oh, my bad. Yup. King Shit of (BLEEP) Mountain's got this all under control! No need to watch your back, Banks!

(Kyle shakes his head.)

Some people just have to learn the hard way, Ryan.

You see, I know what's going on! And I also know that the only way to kill this parasite that is the Crimes is to destroy the head. Only I have the balls to take on the king of the hill! Only I have the talent to crush him under my heel! Yes, it's true, back in REBEL's very first main event, I lost to the almighty Caliber! You know why that was, Ryan? Because Rex played the dirtier game, and he had an entire arena baying for my blood. Well, Rex, I've learned my lesson: If you want to be the alpha wolf, you're gonna have to be prepared to spill some blood. I realize that now. And that adoring crowd of REBEL fans? Well, I think they may just be baying for YOUR blood this time. Because the two-faced champ has revealed his true colours. And while I won't win any popularity contests in North Carolina any time soon, at least by fat-assed, shut-in social outcasts, I at least am honest enough to tell them the truth.

RYAN KINGSTON: Do you think it's wise to assume that you'll be getting the Heavyweight title shot?

KYLE ROBERTS: Are you kidding me? David Banks isn't going to go against his master! Sure, he might try for one of the lesser titles, or maybe even win the tag belts and become the tag champs of both NAPW and REBEL, but there's no way he'll cross the boss. And Warren? Hell, if he manages to win this match by some miracle, like, for instance, all three of his opponents contracting an airborne virus and collapsing in the ring, I'm sure we could even bribe him to give away his shot with a slushee and some Hostess Fruit Pies! (Kyle's eyes light up.) Ryan, write that down! No, wait, just give me your organizer so I can write it!

(Kyle swipes Ryan's PDA out of his hands.)

Note to self: (Kyle starts scribbling.) Hostess... hey, how do you write an H on this thing?

(Ryan takes his Palm Pilot back.)

RYAN KINGSTON: What about Cataclysm?

KYLE ROBERTS: Who?

RYAN KINGSTON: The fourth man in that ring? The man who said you don't fear him.

KYLE ROBERTS: (chuckling) He said that?

RYAN KINGSTON: He said NOTHING fears him.

KYLE ROBERTS: Well, he's got that right. I don't fear him. And he thinks I'm blinded by my own ego? Hey, pal, I only speak the truth. And if the truth happens to be that Kyle Roberts is better than his three opponents? Well, I don't have a problem with that. Tell you what, Cataclysm: If you're so worried that I'll underestimate you, I'll make sure to cripple you first. There's no way you can pull off a Blue Ruin if I've got your legs under my arms, wrenching your back until all you can do is tap. Tap like the little bitch you are. Submit to Stylin' Kyle Roberts. There's no shame in it. Banks will do it. Warren will do it. And when I become champion? Well, it'll become the status quo. (Kyle looks around the bar. Someone catches his eye.) Hel-LO! Ryan, I do believe I have locked on a target. And she's got a friend!

RYAN KINGSTON: (looks in the direction Kyle's staring, and winces) Oh, good lord, no.

KYLE ROBERTS: Hey, Ryan. You're my wingman here tonight. And the wingman's job is to make sure that I score, even if it means distracting her not-so-gorgeous pal.

RYAN KINGSTON: You don't expect me...

KYLE ROBERTS: To take one for the team? Damn skippy I do! Look, the more scrumptious the target, the more risk the wingman takes. I'm pretty sure Bruce has a chart detailing the ratio on his computer somewhere. He used that chart all the time back when he was cool, before he was whipped. Now, onward, Ryan! There's stress to be relieved!

(Kyle exits the frame. Ryan takes a look in the direction Kyle walked in, shudders, and knocks back his cocktail.)

RYAN KINGSTON: I'm SO going to regret this.

(As Ryan leaves the table, we fade to black.)

[warren]

WARREN'S
WORLD!

[Helps to pull the lens cap off. There we go! It's... not a circle K? What is it? It looks like a basement or something. And there's Warren in an old, faded "WARRANT" t-shirt and ripped blue jeans sittin' on a beat-up easy chair with rips in the upholstery and stuff.]

WARREN: Welcome to Warren's World, dudes! Where you get to hear about the world as Warren sees it, and Warren is like, me! Warren's World, excellent! Now, before we get goin on totnight's totally awesome episode, I'd just like to thank our sponser...

[Warren reaches off camera to the carpet and pulls up a two litre of lay's and hires root beer.]

WARREN: The like, best snack for listening to metal in the world, lay's potato chips and a big bottle of Hire's root beer. Bet you can't eat, like, just one man. And there's no caffeine in the root beer, and that's... wait a minute, that's like, bogus man. Rockers gotta stay up ALLL NIIIIIGHT LONNNNNNG! *wheedle-ee-wheedle-ee-oooooo!*

[AIR GUITAR. Warren puts things down, then brushes some hair out of his face. His knees jiggle, he's totally unable to sit still, man. Must be the sugar.]

WARREN: Okay, so tonight we're going to talk about the totally rad four-corner elimination match happening on Tuesday night from Edmonton, when REBEL Pro wrestlers and NAPW wrestlers get together and have a mondo party, except I think their owner like, is the REBEL champion and kind of a dick? I don't know, it seems totally lame. But anyways on that show, I'm totally going to wrestle a match for a shot at any title in REBEL! The carolinas title, the tag team titles, or even the big one, the Heavyweight title! So the match is like, me vs David Banks, vs Cataclysm, vs Stylin' Kyle Roberts. Wow, I'm totally outmatched.

...


NOT!!!




WARREN: Okay, so moving on, in my first segment I'd like to talk about Stylin' Kyle Roberts. What's so stylin' about this guy? I mean he's got more hair on chest than he does on top of his head, and those tights are totally ugly. Anyways, I could talk about like, Stylin' Kyle, but right now we're going to the TOP TEN REASONS Stylin' Kyle Roberts is a total dickweed!

TOP TEN
REASONS
STYLIN'
KYLE
ROBERTS
IS
A
TO
TAL
DICKWEED!

[Warren pulls out a series of cards, forgetting to look at the camera as he reads off of them. A canned drumroll fires up.]

WARREN: Okay, so the number 10 reason Kyle Roberts is a total dickweed:

He once stole candy from a baby, then like gave it to another baby, and then told the FIRST baby that the SECOND baby stole it and that he should fight him.

That's a total dickweed thing to do!

Okay, number nine...

Bashes the U.S.A, even though he like totally gets his cash working here.

Yeah come on, Kyle Roberts, just because your country didn't want you anymore, you gotta come here and bash it? The USA is where 7-11, like, started, and the home of DELICIOUS Hostess Fruit Pies! And twinkie weiner sandwiches! You don't bash the USA, land of free and home of the preservative loaded snack foods!

[Ooooooh.]

WARREN: Reason number eight Kyle Roberts is a total dickweed!

He thinks AC/DC totally sucks!

Only lame-wads think AC/DC sucks! Kyle Roberts goin' on a highway to HELL tuesday night courtesy of me, man! Number seven!

Scientists have estimated that Stylin' Kyle Roberts is 103% hair.  Even his HAIR has hair. I mean dude, that reeks of reekitude. Shave your back, dude! Number six!

Ditches like, a hot chick who's totally crazy for him...


because he's a dickweed!

[OOOOOOH.]

WARREN: Dickweed. Number five!

He's cruising for chicks with his lawyer. His LAWYER?!?! I mean dude, lawyers are to dickweed what Iron Maiden is to the pentatonic scale! No guff, Chet! Alright, so reason number four Stylin' Kyle Roberts is a total dickweed...

Totally isn't going to call his mother tomorrow. IT'S MOTHER'S DAY, YOU HEARTLESS JERK! Number three!

He's from Moose Jaw.  ... I don't know why that would, like, make him a dickweed. But I'm having a hard time thinking of ten reasons! Number two!

Ditches his tag partner, who could totally plow his way through anyone, and then gets his ass whooped! Maybe if he wasn't a *dickweed* Bruce wouldn't have OWNED him! Bruce Richards like, totally kicks ass and you don't, Stylin' Kyle!

and the number onnnnne reason Stylin' Kyle Roberts is like, totally a dickweed loser...

Can not finish this sentence, "I want to rock and roll all night and BLANK."

[WHOOOOO! YEAHHHHH! CHEEEEEERRRR!]

WARREN: And that is the top ten reasons Stylin' Kyle Roberts is a total dickweed! And on Tuesday night, Stylin' Kyle, you're not stepping into the ring with a TOTALLY AWESOME Beast, maybe, but you're stepping into the ring with the totally rad Warren! And after I get done winnin' a title shot, then it's time to rock and roll all night, and you know what I do after that KYle? No, you don't.

BECAUSE YOU'RE A DICKWEED, DICKWEED.

I'm gonna PARTY EVERY DAY!

[Warren is like, almost out of his chair, but then you know, he sits down, grinning and rockin'.]

WARREN: Alright, that was pretty good, when we come back I'll have my totally-not-lame interview with David Banks. Warren's World! Excellent!

[Fade out....]





Dickweed.




=========



Like total thanks to Scott and Ravager and Bruce Richards for top ten reasons! EXCELLENT!

[Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL]]

(We pan through a plane. Stewardesses are helping people into their seats, and Stylin' Kyle Roberts is getting settled in. A chime sounds overhead.)

INTERCOM: Thank you for travelling Air Canada flight 127 from Toronto to Edmonton. The current time is 2:38 pm, and we will be arriving at our destination at approximately 2:35 pm Edmonton time. Thank you and enjoy your flight.

(As the French translation kicks in, Kyle tries to relax by closing his eyes.)

FEMALE VOICE: Excuse me. Is this seat taken?

(Kyle opens his eyes and looks up. A redhead, decked out in a long leather jacket, a green blouse poking out from underneath, and sunglasses, smirks at him.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Well, well, well, if it isn't Miranda, gothic goddess of REBEL Pro! You're looking lovely, as always.

MIRANDA: You flatter me. (She sits down beside Kyle.)

KYLE ROBERTS: So where's the big man? I haven't seen your meal ticket on this flight.

MIRANDA: Caliban doesn't travel well with other passengers around. He and Ringmaster Iago are in first class.

KYLE ROBERTS: First class? And you've got REBEL's biggest draw slumming it in business class? Where's my agent?

MIRANDA: Come on, Kyle. Business class isn't SO bad. At least we get to talk this way. (Miranda smiles, and Kyle's eyebrow slightly raises. Just a millimeter. One twenty-fifth of an inch for you Americans who can't process metric. Fools.) Don't you think it's time we started getting to know each other?

KYLE ROBERTS: (looking around) Well, if you wish, I can help you join the mile-high club once we're in the air. Two hours goes by so much quicker that way.

MIRANDA: No thank you. I'm already a member.

(Kyle flushes as he goes off into his own mind for a brief moment.)

MIRANDA: Besides, cheap thrills in an airline doesn't compare to the true intimacy of knowing each other as equals.

KYLE ROBERTS: (pulled out of his reverie) Oh, of course.

(A hostess passes by the duo and checks their seatbelts as the plane starts to take off.)

MIRANDA: How do you think you'll fare in your match?

KYLE ROBERTS: Pffft. Piece of cake. I'm sure to get that title shot. When it comes to those three chumpstains, there's nobody able to keep me from getting my hands around the REBEL champ's throat, be it Rex or Corstenoca. Although, I'm sure Id' have an easier time if I had some monstrous big bad on my side.

MIRANDA: (laughs) Kyle, Caliban's got enough on his plate facing off against Bruce Richards in a dog collar match. Do you really want to split his focus like that?

KYLE ROBERTS: What focus? Just tell the big guy that three men in that ring are Bruce Richards. And that they insulted his mother.

MIRANDA: It's hardly a matter of siccing Caliban on someone.

KYLE ROBERTS: Oh, please. All you have to do is point your manicured finger in a direction and he'll spear the shit out of whatever's there.

MIRANDA: I never got to thank you for your help two weeks ago.

KYLE ROBERTS: Think nothing of it. Just think of it as the first step towards forging a beautiful partnership with a very beautiful partner.

MIRANDA: Charmer.

KYLE ROBERTS: Of course, there are other ways to show gratitude. For example, I scratch your back, you oil mine.

MIRANDA: (grinning) I'm not sure. According to Warren, your back wouldn't hold up to oil. It would make for quite the mess.

KYLE ROBERTS: (through clenched teeth) Warren. That's the first man I'll destroy in that ring. Making that (BLEEP)ing top ten list? If he wants to emulate Wayne's World so much, I can make sure he'll never be able to leave his mother's basement again. Where does he get off saying I won't call my mother tomorrow? My mom's a saint! Father's Day's a completely different kettle of family-abandoning shitheads, mind you.

MIRANDA: I tease, Kyle.

(Kyle lightens up. Somewhat.)

MIRANDA: If it wasn't for you helping Caliban out by refereeing that match, it might have gone a different way. You made it somewhat easier.

KYLE ROBERTS: (right back to his smirking ways) Hey, if it's screwing Bruce out of a win, I'll climb Mount Everest. (The hostess walks by. Kyle flags her down.) Excuse me, miss, can we get some red wine here? (The stewardess nods and walks off.) Hey, we've got to kill two hours somehow, don't we? It can't be all about the wrestling biz, now, can it? I'd like to know all about you, Miranda.

(As Miranda smiles and touches the forearm of Kyle Roberts, we fade to black. But only because Kyle's making a "cut that camera" motion directly into the camera's POV. The light dims as he laughs and turns his attention back to the beautiful woman willing to share the long plane ride to Edmonton with him.)

(MIRANDA used with permission.)

[cataclysm]

When given the opportunity to earn riches, man would jump at the opportunity, completely disregarding all things that were once important to him.

When given the opportunity to make a name for himself, man would jump at the opportunity, completely disregarding all things that were once important to him.

When given the opportunity to bring himself good fortune, man would jump at the opportunity, completely disregarding all things that were once important to him.

But blinded by greed, will man ever achieve riches, good fortune, or a name?

The answer is no.

No matter how long man takes his time away from other things to prepare to achieve his ultimate goal, when the time comes all preparations, plans, and strategies are erased from memory. Man is only worried about what lies in front of him, within arm's reach; not how to achieve it.

Only the humblest of men can overcome this inevitability. Men who fight for honor, not pride. Men who fight for theirselves, not for the entertainment of others. Men who do not fight for material possessions, but for spiritual enlightenment.

Man who has no interest in riches or good fortune can overcome this lack of focus. All odds can be overcome by the man who believes in himself. The man who believes that he can achieve his goal; not the man who believes that the goal will achieve itself for him.

Such is laziness. Naive. Impossible.

No man can hope to achieve a goal expecting the prize to present itself. One has to believe in one's abilities and that they can help one overcome all odds; not believe in the weaknesses of the opposition. One must worry about his or her own strengths.

But sometimes believing just isn't enough.

One may actually have to know it is possible, no matter the evil forces serving as impenetrable obstacles. To know that good fortune can come out of anything, no matter what evidence supports the contrary. This type of belief, or in this case knowledge, has a name.

That name is Hope.

There is one man in whom the virtue of Hope swells greater than any man. The Hooded man. The master of the Blue Ruin.

Cataclysm.

The man hardly bothers to make special preparations for important competitions because he knows that if he tries his hardest he can win. No matter what lies in the way of him and his goal, he knows he can win. Neither a former champion nor a current champion can stand in his way. A loud-mouthed slacker couldn't stand a chance.

And the world will see how the enigma who hides his face will win, because he knows he can.

No man can tell him otherwise.

No man can break his will.

No man controls his destiny.

And he has chosen his destiny.

[ The black hood flashes across the screen. The blue katana flashes across the screen as well.

Black TV screen. ]

[Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL]]

(Deep in Edmonton's River Valley, Hawrelak Park is starting to bloom again. Families picnic, friends toss footballs and Frisbees around, and Stylin' Kyle Roberts passes by. He takes a deep breath of fresh air.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Ahhhh. It's days like this that renew my faith in Edmonton springs. After eight months of snow and sand, the green finally comes back, and people aren't bundled in winter coats anymore. It's truly an awakening for Edmonton residents, and something I'd miss. If only, you know, Raleigh wasn't already this way in March. It's unbelievable how I'm able to think to myself, "Hey, it's time I went for a swim in the pool," and actually get to go for a swim in an outdoor pool!

Also, the end of Edmonton winter means the end of automobile shocks and tires, thanks to the constant potholes and general disrepair everywhere in town. No, thanks, I'm fine living in a place with more variations in seasons than winter, winter, winter and road construction.

Still, it's nice to walk through familiar haunts in the closest thing Edmonton has to spring. It gives me time to think and focus. And when I'm able to contemplate, it really brings out the hidden poet in me. And after watching the latest emo-boy opus from Cataclysm, I'm reminded of a poem I first found in a high school English reader.

(Kyle clears his throat.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Ahem!

Hope?
Nope.

There you have it, Cataclysm. "The World's Shortest Most Pessimistic Poem." You think you have a shot at winning a shot at any REBEL title you choose when Kyle Roberts is right across the ring, staring you down? Not (BLEEP)ing likely. Ask Jake Phoenix. Bobby O'Brady. Ask Joey Malone. Three men who, thanks to my awesomeness last week, did not get a chance to fulfill their destiny and choose a title to vie for.

Just like how three different REBEL-rousers will find themselves out of the running by the hands of yours truly. My arm will be raised in victory! My chance at the big shiny gold belt will finally happen. My destiny will finally be fulfilled. And Warren, Cataclysm and David Banks will have no choice but to eat crow when they realize that Kyle Roberts is better than them.

Now, hey, there's absolutely no shame in finding this out the hard way. Better men than you have found themselves in the same situation. Casino. Kryenik. Rees. And, on a REBEL card coming very soon, the REBEL Heavyweight champion will get what's coming to them: His ass, personally delivered by Stylin' Kyle Roberts, given to him on a (BLEEP)ing platter. It doesn't matter which man comes out victorious this week, either the King of Pain Rex Caliber or Chris "The Spurt" Corstenoca, either one will feel the wrath of a man who's been trod upon enough.

Now, me? I hope Rex is able to retain his belt. Just so I can be the man to take that gold away from him. So I can be the man to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. So I can show him how little I think of him and his lackeys known as the New Crimes.

I used to respect those four men. Rex was my friend when everybody treated me like I was a leper in NAPW. Static was a sick bastard, but he was my kind of sick bastard. Lloyd Rees could possibly be the only man that people trust less than me, and I admired him for it. And David Banks? He had the talent to back up his swagger.

But the REBEL version of Rex Caliber was a man who used his North Carolina background to sour the fans towards me before I had a (BLEEP)ing chance to prove myself. Now, while I don't give a shit about the Raleigh fans, I'll admit that it was disheartening to have them lusting after my blood before I took a step into the REBEL ring. I was spooked! Tell me that you wouldn't feel the same way if all you saw were a thousand pieces of trailer park trash with blood in their eyes!

Rex Caliber is no longer a friend of mine. He's using his influence as NAPW owner to have his way in TWO federations. But I wouldn't have expected Static and Lloyd Rees to actually fall for the toxic spew flowing from the NAPW King's mouth. Come ON, guys! You are two of the most cunning wrestlers I know! And, as fellow northerners, I would have thought you could see the blatant envy that the REBEL owners have for us Canadians!

But, no, not only do you ignore the warning signs that have flashed in front of my eyes like warning beacons, but you actually go out of your way to SUPPORT the status quo? My god, guys, what the (BLEEP) has Caliber DONE to you? I mean, sure, David Banks fell for his bullshit, but he's North Carolinan too!

Still, when Rex's true colours were revealed last week, I went on my knees and praised the Lord for giving me the sign I needed. My destiny was revealed! I've been saying it all along, but REBEL fans have ignored me! I am the (BLEEP)ing SAVIOUR of REBEL Pro Wrestling! And the first mission of this wrestling messiah? To make Rex Caliber an irrelevant joke. And the only way to do that? Take his precious REBEL Heavyweight title.

So, to my opponents this week in Edmonton, I'll say this once: It's nothing personal. No, wait, for David Banks, it's TOTALLY personal. But for Warren and Cataclysm? Wrong place, wrong time. Tell you what: If you two want a title to fight for, I'll make sure that Joey Malone will give you a chance at the Extreme Jobber title.

But on Tuesday? I'll make it as quick and painless for you two. After all, the only crime you committed was getting booked for this match. Getting in the way of my destiny? I'll chalk it up to unfortunate circumstances. But this I swear: if you get in my way? I'll make you regret it. And I'll make you remember my name.

Kyle Roberts. Next REBEL champion.

(Kyle sneers and walks off, and we fade to black.)