6WF Explosion 28th June

The crowd at Explosion are in their seats, a video package plays highlighting the feud between Chris Patricks and Max Adamson, and the culmination in this Last Man Standing match over the 6WF Undisputed Championship. Immediately following the montage, "Lonely Boy" by the Black Keys hits and the crowd roar in disapproval as Max Adamson emerges onto the ramp. He is in his wrestling attire, with a t-shirt that reads "I hate CP". Adamson walks down to the ring with a microphone, he climbs into the ring and is confident as ever as he leans on the ropes and waits for his music to stop before speaking;

Max: There's been a lot of gossip on the internet about the future of this company. A lot of people are speculating that 6WF is heading down the toilet, that 6WF may not even have a future. That Explosion may be the final 6WF event broadcast across the world. Now, people are putting this down to lower Pay Per View buyrates, lower viewing figures, a drop in profits, and maybe even a drop in ticket sales. We all know there is only ONE MAN who is responsible for this...

(The crowd boo as Adamson smirks, he continues)

Max: It is no coincidence that ever since Chris Patricks "won", and I use the term loosely, "won" the 6WF Undisputed Championship, 6WF has declined rapidly. This is what happens when the 6WF standard bearer is a lowlife scumbag, who faked his own death, beats his wife and terrorises his kids. This is what happens when a pathetic cretin like him is the man that the 6WF fans "aspire to be". They switch off. They change the channel. They maybe even watch other wrestling shows. 6WF is dying, and Chris Patricks is the cyanide. One of two things will happen in the Last Man Standing match between Chris Patricks and Max Adamson...

(Adamson pauses and scowls as the fans interrupt him with a "you suck" chant)

Max: ...One of two things will happen. One, Chris Patricks wins, he retains the 6WF Undisputed Championship, sealing 6WF's death warrant, sealing the fate of this once great company, and ensuring that this ship will sink faster than the Titanic on steroids. Or, two, Max Adamson.

(Adamson absorbs the booing and continues)

Max: Max Adamson becomes your saviour. Max Adamson saves the day. Max Adamson, leaves Chris Patricks flat on his back for ten seconds, walks away as your NEW and THREE TIME 6WF Undisputed Champion, and I do what I did absolutely perfectly before Chris Patricks started running this company into the depths of despair. I carry 6WF on my back and take us to the highest heights we once enjoyed. Max Adamson as the face of 6WF, once again your Undisputed Champion...

(The crowd boo again and a loud "Patricks" chant echoes around the arena)

Max: And the saddest part, is that all of you have been brainwashed into thinking Chris Patricks is some kind of hero. This is a guy who made you all falsely mourn his death. This is a conniving evil son of a bitch who tricked all of you into thinking he'd died in a tragic accident when really he was sat with his feet up, smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo. Chris Patricks is going to kill 6WF, not deliberately I might add, but he is going to. Unless I can save it.

(Adamson stands on the second turnbuckle and sticks his chest out)

Max: I can save 6WF. I can save you from ALL of this. You might not know it, but I assure you, the only way to save 6WF is if you turn your back on Chris Patricks and back Max Adamson, if you back Adamson and Max Adamson wins back his 6WF Undisputed Championship then you will be backing the long term future of 6WF. If you stand idly by and keep going in your unequivocal support of that fraud Chris Patricks, then you will all have blood on your hands when 6WF dies.

(Adamson throws the mic down and raises his arms as the crowd are loudly booing the Australian)

A video plays on the screen.

Tom Ree is sitting in a library. He turns when he notices the camera.

"Sunday 28th June. Explosion. I plan to teach a lesson to Clarke James and Mike Hill what happens when a steam train collides with unassuming people."

The camera zooms in to show the book Tom is reading 'Tracks to Danger.'

"It is time the bell rings on their chances."

*The audience around the world are greeted to a fever pitch show at Explosion, the atmosphere is palpable as the fans fill the arena one by one. The crowd’s Bubbly and positive vibes end hugely abruptly as “Land of Hope and Glory” reverberates over the  arena as the crowd begin to turn distinctly toxic. Trudging through the curtain, hastily followed by his assistant Orson Calloway a evil and arrogant looking Edward “Mitchell” Kent saunters onto the top of the ramp. Calloway looks at at the crowd with a disgusted face before looking at EMK with a sadistic smile across his face. Calloway is smartly dressed in a three piece red suit with a black tie and black shoes. Mitchell on the other hand is wearing a pair of black wrestling boots, black wrestling trunks and a black nike slim running jacket. On the back of the jacket is a large red “K” with a small Union Jack on it also. As the camera follows behind Mitchell and Calloway as they make their way into a wall of boo’s and taunts.  The camera changes around as Mitchell and Calloway reach the bottom of the ramp, the pair of them with the same sickly smile draped across their faces as members of the crowd continue to stare daggers at the pair, venom and anger burning away in their  eyes as they watch closely the pairs next move. Mitchell and Calloway then make their way into the ring, up the steel steps and through the ring ropes as the crowd continue to drown the pair in boo’s and abuse, as EMK mockingly salutes his self-perceived adoring public. Calloway snatches a microphone from Mike Bird’s hand and passes it to EMK who takes it willingly, with a sick evil grin across his face as he laughs triumphantly. The front row members of the crowd continue to eyeball the Bully, EMK who raises the microphone to his lips as the cacophony of boo’s continue to echo around the arena, shaking it to its core. Before EMK speaks, a snarl crosses the evil tyrant’s face as the crowd begin to chant you suck over and over again*
 
EMK: I deserve more respect from you people… you see, right now in this very country you people are more than happy to sit on your backsides and leech from the pockets of your peers. Those in the cheap seats, all the way in the back… how much did you rob and liberate from the supermarket… the garage, alcohol shop or your neighbour’s house across the street?  In my City, The capital city of this country, anyone can make a living if they choose to. In London, a financial and commercial hub of the world where the rich get richer and the hard working British people can make money too. That’s how it should be. Not like this third world, impoverished and on its knees part of Great Britain. be careful when you walk home. I’m sure you will be mugged at any moment. Whereas in London, people like me protect the streets. People like me run the streets and any insubordination is greatly excluded in a vision of my future.
 
EMK: It’s people like me and Orson Calloway who are keeping this nation in check. Its people like me who help run the economy, run the news and promote this country around the world, 24 hours a day and 7 days a week.  It’s people like me who provide the food for you people to eat when you get home tonight. If you look at your daddy’s kids, I’m the one putting food on your tables. Not Daddy… no, because daddy is spineless. Job seekers only covers so far, I’m the one paying the price. But since I’m a generous man and a wrestling hero… it’s a small price to pay. Its people like me who should be given adulation and praise… not for example this, small time American no mark who came crawling out from the edge of the Mississippi river.

*The crowd begin a Let’s go PJ chant, those standing at the front of the row in the audience look at EMK with fury in their eyes throwing all sorts of taunts and abuse looking directly at a twisted and evil EMK who vindictively chuckles to himself before raising the microphone back to his lips, a twisted smirk on his face as Calloway looks at EMK with a confident smile.*
 
EMK: What separates me and this so called perceived Perfect wrestler is that in my world right now… I’m on different level to Perfect Jack. I have always been perfect and will continue to be perfect. Perfect Jack needs you people to remind him that he is perfect… he is a leach. He is a man so satisfied with people boosting his ego, he feeds on it and excels. I will continue to explain to you people why I don’t need to be defined you people. Let me explain to you people why this is the case. Four different characteristics which separate me and Perfect Jack as athletes and human beings in general… Greatness. Dignity. Courage and respect. Perfect Jack has none of these traits. Jack, you have already disgraced the 6WF name by naming and stating yourself as perfect. This company is a global conglomerate… it needs a face. And that face is me… I’m perfect in every single damn way.

EMK: You see, Great Britain, the United States and indeed all over the world, these people need a hero. And from day one, I have filled that role. I have vanquished all those that have opposed me, and more recently I have become stronger, richer and a damn sight happier. I’m the ideal Great British success story and a worldwide success story. Starting from a great family with humble beginnings becoming independently strong and finally a self-made millionaire. I am the single reason in professional wrestling that you people can look up to and idolise. Perfect Jack and I are in different leagues and that self-perceived perfect one couldn’t lace my god-damn boots.
 
*EMK angrily points a finger at himself and continues to spout out his verbal tirade filled with evil intentions as the crowd continue to chant you suck.*
 
EMK: The world of professional wrestling has never seen a greater role model than me. That honour or part of it, is resting on a shoulder of man that should be by all rights should be rotting in a small town living out his small time ambitions. That honour deserves to be resting on a shoulder of a man who is renowned world over as a wrestling hero. That recognition deserves to be placed on a shoulder of a man who by all counts should be idolised by the next generation. It shouldn’t be resting on a shoulder of some hick from Minnesota all the way in Hick County.  A punk who crawled out from a redneck hellhole and leeched off the name of this company. That’s why the fans love you, Jack… you’re a leech just like them. They easily associate themselves with you because like you, they have crawled from the sewers.

EMK: But what separates true heroes of this company and wrestling kings is the fact that you choose to remain a good guy… you can’t cross that divide because you’re scared those fans won’t cheer your name and buy Perfect Jack merchandise. Every society loves a valiant loser… and you are the valiant loser, Jack. Regardless of the results, you will still be cheered for your plucky efforts. And the sad reality is, that those fans and our world will still cheer for you if you put zero effort in… Pathetic. Perfect Jack I’m going to beat you. Infact I’m going to destroy you Perfect Jack. A man with zero integrity cannot and will not push this company into the future and beyond. This company needs a man who is the true hero of this world. A man who is recognisable in the smallest places in the world. 6WF doesn’t need a fraud who spawned from the edge of a river.  
 

EMK: Tonight, I’m going to prove to the world that I want my damn torch back. I want that torch that I carried for 6WF so proudly across the world, for these people. A true British hero and a wrestling hero. These people know that I don’t lie I always make good on my promises. Perfect Jack, You have my torch. My property and I want it back. You’re a marked man, Jack. Tonight, I’m going to start taking your world away piece by painful piece. I’m going to end this sycophantic, warped and deluded belief that you are perfect to yourself and these people. These people deserve a man who can carry this company and has the facts and prowess to back it up. Tonight Perfect Jack, your perfect world is going to be coming down in frankly a brutal, nasty and painful Explosion.


*The Crowd break into enormous boo’s and taunts as EMK remains fixed, almost hypnotised staring evilly into the eyes of each and every single fan giving him the abuse and taunts in the arena. Orson Calloway adjusts his tie as the tension in the air is palpable as the crowd continue to raise the heat EMK then orders Calloway to exit the ring as he then follows, a smarmy, evil an conniving smirk draped across the tyrant’s face as he heads back up the ramp.*

Before EMK and Orson Calloway can leave the arena "I am Perfection" hits and the crowd start to cheer as Perfect Jack walks out from out behind the curtain. His music dies down quickly as he begins to speak. 

PJ: You didn't think I would stand back there idly by and let you run your mouth did you? Well you're wrong. You are damn wrong buddy boy. 

Crowd: PERFECT JACK...PERFECT JACK...PERFECT JACK

PJ: Ha, you call me a leech, you should look a little closer to home there buddy boy, that fella right there next to you looks like he can't wait to plant one on you and suck you dry. 

The crowd laugh as EMK and Orson look visibly frustrated. 

PJ: Now let me tell you this EMK, let me give you a little bit of a history lesson, there have been many who have come and gone who have the audacity to think they're perfect, to think that they're better than me, and do you know what's happened to them? I'm gonna tell you Kenty, because it's gonna happen to you to. They all lost, they all left, battered and bruised, out fought and out-wrestled and I did it all without a chump like Orson Calloway next to me.

Crowd: PERFECT JACK...PERFECT JACK...PERFECT JACK

PJ: So i tell you this Ed, I might not be the world champion right now, hell, I might not be the face of the company, even though I am the best looking, but i'll tell you what I am, I'm a champion in the eyes and hearts of everyone in attendance, and that's something quite frankly you will never understand. So you can belittle where i've come from and what I am, but I've never changed, I've never lost sight of what I am. 

Crowd: PERFECT JACK...PERFECT JACK...PERFECT JACK

PJ: But before I forget Mitch, you can bitch and moan about a fictitious torch, but at the end of the day, to be best you gotta beat the best, and boy, I am the best. That's why they call me Perfect. So you can look at me and everyone else with those googly eyes and your silly smile, all it does is give me a little bit more incentive to beat the living daylights out of you at Explosion.

*The scene opens backstage where Jack Reynolds is frantically waving at his camera crew to follow as walks at pace through the corridors*

JR: Come on, keep up. I want to know why he keeps whistling that song.

*Jack Reynolds turns the corner where Cameron Faith is stood, stroking his Fight for the Right briefcase while whistling ‘A hunting we will go (Same tune as farmer in the dell) as he watches the ringside exchange between Max Adamson and Chris Patricks on a monitor.

As Patricks leaves the arena, Faith taps the Briefcase with a smile before turning away from the monitor to find Jack Reynolds walking in his direction microphone in hand*

JR: Cameron, that tune you were whistling, you have been whistling it for weeks now, why?

CF: Jack, I’ve been telling you for weeks that the urge to use this contract is growing and that tune it just seems perfect. See walking around with the contract is kinda like hunting, I’m watching, I’m waiting for that perfect moment to cash in.

Just think about it Jack, how would you feel every time you heard someone whistling that same tune? Hearing it echoing around the arena, around the corridors and wondering if this was the moment.

I mean Patricks has Children, for all I know he could sitting on the pan going about his daily business when one of his kids innocently starts whistling. Chris Patricks needs to know that Max Adamson is not the only person he needs to worry about backstage.

The difference is I can strike anyplace and anywhere, like I don’t know, after a match against your former best friend, when the purpose is to make sure your opponent can’t stand up. I’m not saying that tonight’s the night, but I’m not saying it’s not there.

JR: But what if Max Adamson wins tonight?

CF: He may do Jack, he may do, but it don’t make no difference to me, all I need is someone whose going to stay down long enough for the referee to count to three.

*Cameron puts his hand up to stop Jack speaking*

CF: Jack, know you finished grilling me on someone else’s match, let’s remember before the last man standing match there’s the small matter of Cameron Faith taking back what is his, The European Title.

I ain’t kidding myself this match is going to be brutal, You got Crime Lord who needs that title for the grand slam, Cassius Zhi to set foot in motion is revelation, Nemeses is a monster, and Logan Kincade is possibly the most dangerous man of them all.

But when all is said and done it doesn’t matter what happens in that ring, how many times that title changes hand when the clock counts down, the bell rings, It’s Cameron Faiths hand that will be raised as he once again named European Champion.

*Cameron leans in closely to the microphone and whispers as he faces the camera*
CF: See its been far too long since Cameron Faith last held a championship, one way another at Explosion that changes!!

Believe That!!!!!!!!!

*Cameron Faith pats Jack on the back before walking out of shot whistling again*