[Mark Madness] EVJ vs. Studd

[u/brianwantsblood]

Promos are due Sunday, March 8, 11:59 PM EST.

[u/neutronknows]

scene opens on a cold foggy night at the Port of Philadelphia shipyard. An ominous orange light bathes the shipping containers packed to the brim with various goods, giving off a horror movie vibe. A man dressed in a heavy coat and a black beanie walks passed the camera and stops to look around. Even his breath, freezing in the air is afraid to travel even further in the port. He turns towards the camera to reveal WiR Reporter and actual nice guy, Derek Christian.

Derek Christian: I got a bad feeling about this.

Camrraman Chuck: Whew... oh thank God. Fuck it, let's go back to the motel then.

Derek Christian: No! No one has been able to reach him. He's gone under the radar. Riding the rails. Hitchhiking. Our last source said he was on a ship bound for Philly. He's here, I can feel it. Vic must answer for his crimes. He's a loatheful, maniacal, serial abuser and hypocrite and I'm going to get the whole story. Who knows? Perhaps I'll rise through the ranks of wrestling reporters. Maybe even New York will hit me up for my sleuthing prowess.

Cameraman Chuck: You know that's not how it works, right?

Derek glances back at Chuck and frowns.

Derek Christian: See, that's what I was telling you in the van. That's why no one likes you. You shit on everything, Debbie Downer.

Cameraman Chuck: Aww...

Derek Christian: Shut up! You hear that?

Cameraman Chuck: Why you gotta say shit like that man?

Derek Christian: Come on!

Cameraman Chuck: (groans)

Derek starts running down the dock, weaving between shipping containers. Chuck does his best to keep up with the camera. He loses sight of Derek as he turns a corner around one of the containers, Chuck turns the same corner and slams right into Derek knocking them both to the ground.

Cameraman Chuck: The fuck Derek-

Derek Christian: Look!!

Derek grabs the camera around the lense and directs it towards an circle of a dozen or so hobos of all race and gender huddled around a shipping container. A loan figure paces back and forth on top, chain smoking like a fiend seemingly debating intensely with himself.

Cameraman Chuck: Holy-

Derek Christian: Shhhhhh!!

Chuck and Derek creep closer to the gathering of hobos and manage to get a shot inside the container. Its littered with random furniture from Erik Von Jarrett's apartment, including a sofa, EVJ's record player and collection, and a washer/dryer unit. Upon closer inspection several WiR artifacts litter the insides of the container, including:

The jizz streaked framed poster of Voltage's "Sorry Not Sorry" poster.

Allen Paisner's All Dogs Go To Heaven III: More Dead Dogs Collector's Edition Laser Disc.

The severed head of Vic's sex doll Dashinkashayla.

A pair of panties with Bruce Rodgers obnoxious face on them we can only assume are Gwen West's.

Several meth pipes belonging to The Moonshine Boys.

The remaining pieces of Sonny Carson's "Fake WiR Title".

The taxidermied hawk Keiji used to taunt Nolan Hawk over the edge.

Former WiR Hardcore Champion "Skateboard" along with The steering wheel of now deceased BACK HOE.

An unopened case of Pepsi Twist and an AOL start up CD.

The Manhattan Object Vic-Stick Vic made for Robert Warlock for his match against Jack Flash at Looks Good on Paper.

One of KSJ's many high school wrestling medals.

David Harvey's dry cleaned Chewbacca costume.

TERRIBLE's pride.

and the shit stained mask of former WiR Superstar Mujer Dragon among several other random objects.

Cameraman Chuck: God damn. Is that my DS? I thought I lost that in Robeson.

Derek Christian: What the hell is going on here?

The figure stops pacing and throws his lit cigarette into the crowd of hobos, striking one in the forehead. Burning embers split off and fall to the ground, and the hobo is nothing but smiles as he bends over, picks up the cigarette butt and re-lights it.

Hobo #1: Thank you sir!

Vic Studd: SILENCE! ... HIS TIME IS ABOUT TO COME TO AN END!! THE RIGHTEOUS!! ERIK... VON... JARRETT!!

Crowd of Hobos: BOOOOOOOO!!

Vic Studd: Yes! Yes! BOO HIM! BOO THAT MAN! Hee deserves no praise. No adulation. Another member of this millennial generation of self entitled takers. A man - no. A conniving snake in the grass who has achieved only what others have so generously given him. He spat in the face of my greatness. And The Righteous Erik Von Jarrett will SUFFER for his lack of respect!

The hobos cheer as Vic pauses to reach into his coat and pull out a pint of Sailor Jerry Rum. He chugs the last of it and tosses it into the crowd. The hobos all gun for it like desperately single bridesmaid's going after the bouquet. Eventually a lone hobo is able to savor the last drop left as the others look on in envy.

Vic Studd: It wasn't enough that he tried to fundamentally change a man he called "friend". A man he tag teamed heavy set women of color like a "brother". Well, ERIK VON JARRETT! You don't just to get to pick and choose how you think people should be. You wouldn't cut the smile off the Mona Lisa because you didn't care for the rest. A masterpiece... like myself... is a total package. And could The Righteous ERIK VON JARRETT accept this!?

Crowd of Hobos: NO!

Vic reaches into his pocket and grabs a fistful of change and throws it at the hobos as hard as he can. The hobos cover themselves for a brief moment, before realizing its money and they all start groveling on the ground as Vic smiles proudly at the chaos he has caused and lights up another cigarette.

Vic Studd: You can't refuse a gift to humanity. You cannot alter a piece of art. I am one of a kind. And you Erik Von Jarrett - are nothing. A gristly cut of white meat spam sliced off the back of your prick father. I took you in. I thought you were special. I shared my wealth of knowledge in and outside the ring and you turned your back on me. Because you wanted to play fair.

Well guess what, ERIK VON JARRETT?! LIFE IS NOT FAIR.

If you can tips the odds in your favor, if you can get a leg up on your competition, take advantage of a situation in some way... you do it. As the red blooded, troop supporting, American Patriot you "claim" to be... you do it.

Why should the race always go to the swift footed Kenyan who's been running from lions for his very life since the day he was born!?

Or the hottest trim to handsome man with the a full head of hair, chiseled features and piercing eyes?

Should they be gifted these accolades merely because of the gifts God has bestowed up on them?

Crowd of Hobos: NO! NO! NO! NO!

The hobos continue to chant as Derek shifts uncomfortably at the intense dark energy en-capsuling the abandoned port. Vic soaks in the adoration before spreading his arms out and the hobos quickly silence.

Vic Studd: Well a wise man once said.. "Cheating is the gift man gives himself."

And you... ERIK VON JARRETT... are in no position to be refusing a gift to humanity... the one and only... "VILE" VIC STUDD!

Crowd: YAAAAAY!!

Cameraman Chuck: Damn.

Vic Studd: And if that wasn't enough... he had to go and slink into my old meat wallet for lack of a better term. Sure, you've never been one to turn down my scraps before... but this time "THE RIGHTEOUS" Erik Von Jarrett sullied the very sanctity of marriage.

Derek Christian: Aren't you divorced?

Vic Studd: WHO SAID THAT!? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT!?

The hobos look around and part, leaving Derek and Cameraman Chuck standing alone in a circle of angry transients. Vic stares daggers down at the two WiR employees.

Cameraman Chuck: Oh.. fuck.

Vic Studd: Dirk.

Derek Christian in a moment of pure bravery steps forward and meets Vic's gaze.

Derek Christian: It's "DEREK". And I'm hear for answers, Vic.

Vic Studd: And what makes you so special? Why should you address me before "the faithful".

Derek Christian: Because I know what you really are.

Chuck grabs Derek by the shoulder, but Derek shrugs him off.

Derek Christian: You're just a bitter, old, asshole. Your only joy coming from ruining the lives of others. You son of a bitch. You slept with my girlfriend, you fucking HYPOCRITE.

The crowd of hobos gasp as Chuck makes a little "wooo" sound behind the camera.

Vic Studd: Yeah. So?

Derek Christian: You piece of shit... HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF!? HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT!?

Vic Studd: With your girlfriend. (Vic shrugs confused) What the fuck, Dirk? Is that all you wanted to ask me?

Derek Christian: AHHHHHH!!!

Derek tries to charge the container but is quickly swarmed by hobos. They start ripping the clothing off him trying to get to any useful objects, loose change or jewelry he has on him until he is naked and shivering... kneeling before a smiling Vic. One particularly crazy looking hobo comes up behind Derek and presses a broken bottle up to his neck, poking the skin.

Crazy Hobo: Let me do it, sir. Let me do it... for you.

Vic Studd: I SAY THEE NAY! Let him go. Let him preach my LEGEND. Leave this place, Dirk. And you tell them... you tell all of them...

DON'T FUCK WITH VIC STUDD.

Chuck throws his jacket over Derek's shoulders and rushes him back the way they came as the angry mob of hobos looks on.

Vic Studd: Oh! And Dirk... say hi to Becky for me.

scene fades to black to the sounds of Derek Christian's sobs.