Post by R.W. Randolph on Apr 30, 2011 16:50:52 GMT -5
(Fade in.)
"Time to tell the Truth..."
Part I: The Making of...
(Broken Saint Productions have often added props to the Soundstage if it helps tell the story of whatever match their boss was in. This time is no exception. Jacob, the man whose job it is to put up the backdrops, had a daunting task this week as he stood there in his black "PWE crew" T-shirt, camoflage cargo pants, and white sneakers, He had to set up a 12 foot high chain-link fence to divide where R.W. Randolph would stand from the camera men. He thought the request was odd, but that was typical fare for the Legend. Jacob wondered how to make this work, because he knew that R.W. at some point would grab the fence. If it fell, that could be a disaster. To create the effect, he simply used the fencing and posts from move-able basketball goals to hold them up. At 2 foot intervals, sandbags were tied to the bottom of the fencing to make it sturdy. The top of the make-shift cage wall was tied to a scaffold that was situated just above the camera's eye to prevent it from falling over.
Jacob wasn't sure what his Boss was planning on doing with the cage so he tests it as best he can. He shakes it a few times. It has enough give to rattle, but not so much as to give way. He pauses for a moment and then leans on the netting with his 165 lb. frame. It stayed upright enough for the task required. He pondered for a moment, then realized that R.W. was probably gonna launch himself into the fence. He gave himself a running start and hit the fence as hard as he could. A few of the ropes along the top of the fence broke on this test. Upon noticing this, he immediately grabbed his ladder and went to attach new rope to the fence. He hated using the only ladder tall enough, as it was a bit rickety. He climbed the ladder and, during the journey up, noticed that it was being incredibly sturdy for a change. He quickly re-tied the broken segments. It was when he finally descended the ladder that he noticed why the ladder was so steady. He almost fell from the ladder when he saw Randolph himself holding the ladder, dressed in a white Torture Chamber T-shirt, black TapouT shorts, and black flip flops. Jacob finally made it down the ladder before nervously speaking.)
Jacob: I'm sorry, sir. I figured I had more time to test the fence.
(R.W. smirks. He pats the guy on the back and smirks.)
Randolph: You're a regular MacGuyver, there. I like this. As long as Josten himself doesn't throw me into this, it should do what I need it to do.
Jacob: I thought you were going to throw yourself into it at some point?
Randolph: I do that and my wife would kill me. Besides, what can throwing myself into a chainlink fence in this up coming promo do that I can't accomplish simply by standing back here and grabbing the fence?
(Jacob thinks for a moment. The answer is actually obvious to him. R.W. nods as he sees the wheels spinning in the set designer's head.)
Randolph: You do good work. I think I've got everything I need on this front. Now, to tie everything else together. Roger?
(R.W. turns to face the screen as Jacob walks off-screen. A voice from behind the camera can be heard. It is somewhat dorky, as if he were still in college.)
Roger: Yes sir?
Randolph: The base shot is pretty much going to be me from the waist up, behind the fence. Have it be close enough to me that we don't reveal the rigging for this, but that's kind of obvious.
Roger: Makes sense, sir.
Randolph: A couple of big things. I think it's best to open the promo with a close up of my hand grabbing onto the fence. Then we go to the base shot as I let go and say my piece. I'll then grab the cage again. Zoom into my face as I do my thing here. When I say my money line, pan back to my hand and that'll close it out.
Roger: Yes sir.
Randolph: I know the fence is gonna put a damper on the Boom Mic, so I need Mark.
(Mark arrives on R.W.'s side of the cage, carrying a wireless mic and battery pack. He's clad in a white t-shirt, black windpants, and white sneakers. R.W. puts the wireless mic on and tests it.)
Randolph: Picking me up loud and clear, Roger?
Roger: Not quite, sir.
(R.W. adjusts a knob on the battery pack. His voice becomes a bit louder the next time he speaks.)
Randolph: How about now?
Roger: Yes sir.
Randolph: One more question: Is the lighting alright?
(an offscreen response is given. R.W.'s nod seems to indicate that it's a positive. He and Mark then walk stage right until they are out of the shot. The pieces are all in place, now it's time for the fun part...)
Part II: Time to make history.
(Screen fades in on a hand whose fingers are interlocked in a chain link fence. The knuckles are worn, proof of the many battles he had been in. The voice is haunting, but it is traditional R.W. Randolph.)
Randolph: You thought I was blowing smoke, didn't you? You thought I was making idle threats. You thought that you were safe hiding behind Ms. Rodriguez. You thought wrong, Vato...
(The hand relinquishes the fence as the camera slowly zooms out, to reveal the Broken Saint, clad in his traditional Denim Work shirt and blue jeans, his head is covered by a Black Trucker's Cap and eyes concealed behind those aviators. He methodically paces as he speaks, resembling more a caged animal than the number #1 contender to the PWE Universal Title. He continues to speak...)
Randolph: Before I continue with my opposition for Ultraviolence, I want to say a few things to our old friend Blake Gold. Blake, I see that you have some problems against the former Universal Champions. For all your talk of success, when you face the true elite of this business, you're winless. You tied against Bashi, while pretending to be Gateway Champion. And you fell to me. You need to find that extra gear that we all know you have. But I think you can take heart in knowing one thing: losing to me doesn't make you a bad wrestler. A lot of very good ones have fallen at my hands. Write it off as a learning experience, Vato. And remember this: you may be getting better all the time, but it will take a while before you're at my level.
Speaking of my level, that brings me to one Eric Josten. The fraud on the throne. You had that fear, didn't you? You joked about me being "unworthy" of a title shot, forgetting who I was. You dismissed me as a nobody, forgetting who I was. You thought I would just go away, forgetting who I was. As you had to declare me the victor against the man you may have to face at All Star Weekend, I think you found yourself remembering. You remembered that I am one of those few people who will tell you to your face that you're a big retarded moron and watch you not do a god damned thing about it. You remembered that I walked through hell itself to get even with your mentor and possible life partner Chris Jacobs. You remembered that I was the one who stopped Tomoko Hanahara when no one else can. You remembered that I was the one who caused the implosion of the New Organization of Wrestling. And you remembered that I was the one who sent The Known Unknown packing.
Let me spell out the main thing that separates us, apart from wrestling ability, size, and all the tangible bullshit that doesn't matter. When I stepped into the big leagues, I found a similar rising star and we catapulted each other into the stratosphere. Then, when I stepped into ICE, a good portion of the crowd and the locker room already knew who I was. Those who didn't know, found out really god damned quickly. I ran with Devon D'Andre and Chris Titan at the time, Devon was already a household name due to his time in Colo. He was a little bit bigger than I was, but ICE wasn't his time. Titan was on the verge, but not quite there. Add me, and we become a force. And while the Saints were running roughshod over ICE, my matches were becoming the most talked about. And when I received my only ICE Universal Title opportunity, I made the most of it. My PWE stuff you already know about, and I won't go into it.
Now, here's your career since hitting the big time: You hitched your wagon to Shawn Christopher, a guy whose best days have passed him by. You became his thug and even won the most meaningless title in the PWE with him and Frontier. You then decided to turn your back on him and hitched your wagon to Chris Jacobs, a guy whose best days have passed him by. You became a thug and through your procurement of that video of Amerie's activities in Tijuana, you got yourself a Universal Title shot. And with a bit of help, you managed to get that belt around your waist. And you somehow managed to be Universal Champion without defending the title. Good for you.
(R.W. stops pacing. He grasps the cage in a menacing fashion as the camera zooms in on his face. The menacing glare sends its message loud and clear as he continues.)
Randolph: To put all of the above into terms even you can understand: I clawed my way to the top upon hitting the big time. You took the easy route. You're soft, Vato. I don't mean that as a reference to your mid-section. I mean that, despite your size, your power, and everything else you bring to the table, you can't cut it as a Universal Champion. That's why I said you won't be Champion after All-Star Weekend. Either Blake Gold ascends to the throne, which is a very real possibility regardless of what happened in the match with me, or you're gonna drop the belt in the Garden.
Of course, things can always change. You can always apply the flashes of greatness that have gotten you by thus far over a long spectrum and actually become the Champion you pretend to be. It's a bit of a long shot. You could find a way to destroy me legitimately one way or the other. I don't see it happening, but it could. You could take this newfound ferocity and use it to roll through Blake Gold like you are a god of professional wrestling. Again, unlikely but not completely impossible. But it all comes down to this: How does Erik Josten react when he's inside the Steel Cage with R.W. Randolph?
(A dramatic pause. R.W. snarls coldly as he finishes his diatribe.)
Randolph: There have been people asking me how it would feel to be on the brink of history. I wouldn't know. I honestly haven't thought about the implications of being the PWE's first two-time Universal Champion. What I can say is this: I am looking out for the best interest of this company by demanding this match. More than what can ever be said for you, Vato. That cage will be unforgiving against flesh and bone. And the same can be said for the Broken Saint. Come Ultraviolence, you can't run, you can't hide, all you can do is find yourself Knocked Out... or Clocked out!!!
(Camera pans up to the hand of the challenger, fingers interlocked in the fence. The time is drawing near. Can R.W. regain the PWE Universal Title?
Fade out.)
"Time to tell the Truth..."
Part I: The Making of...
(Broken Saint Productions have often added props to the Soundstage if it helps tell the story of whatever match their boss was in. This time is no exception. Jacob, the man whose job it is to put up the backdrops, had a daunting task this week as he stood there in his black "PWE crew" T-shirt, camoflage cargo pants, and white sneakers, He had to set up a 12 foot high chain-link fence to divide where R.W. Randolph would stand from the camera men. He thought the request was odd, but that was typical fare for the Legend. Jacob wondered how to make this work, because he knew that R.W. at some point would grab the fence. If it fell, that could be a disaster. To create the effect, he simply used the fencing and posts from move-able basketball goals to hold them up. At 2 foot intervals, sandbags were tied to the bottom of the fencing to make it sturdy. The top of the make-shift cage wall was tied to a scaffold that was situated just above the camera's eye to prevent it from falling over.
Jacob wasn't sure what his Boss was planning on doing with the cage so he tests it as best he can. He shakes it a few times. It has enough give to rattle, but not so much as to give way. He pauses for a moment and then leans on the netting with his 165 lb. frame. It stayed upright enough for the task required. He pondered for a moment, then realized that R.W. was probably gonna launch himself into the fence. He gave himself a running start and hit the fence as hard as he could. A few of the ropes along the top of the fence broke on this test. Upon noticing this, he immediately grabbed his ladder and went to attach new rope to the fence. He hated using the only ladder tall enough, as it was a bit rickety. He climbed the ladder and, during the journey up, noticed that it was being incredibly sturdy for a change. He quickly re-tied the broken segments. It was when he finally descended the ladder that he noticed why the ladder was so steady. He almost fell from the ladder when he saw Randolph himself holding the ladder, dressed in a white Torture Chamber T-shirt, black TapouT shorts, and black flip flops. Jacob finally made it down the ladder before nervously speaking.)
Jacob: I'm sorry, sir. I figured I had more time to test the fence.
(R.W. smirks. He pats the guy on the back and smirks.)
Randolph: You're a regular MacGuyver, there. I like this. As long as Josten himself doesn't throw me into this, it should do what I need it to do.
Jacob: I thought you were going to throw yourself into it at some point?
Randolph: I do that and my wife would kill me. Besides, what can throwing myself into a chainlink fence in this up coming promo do that I can't accomplish simply by standing back here and grabbing the fence?
(Jacob thinks for a moment. The answer is actually obvious to him. R.W. nods as he sees the wheels spinning in the set designer's head.)
Randolph: You do good work. I think I've got everything I need on this front. Now, to tie everything else together. Roger?
(R.W. turns to face the screen as Jacob walks off-screen. A voice from behind the camera can be heard. It is somewhat dorky, as if he were still in college.)
Roger: Yes sir?
Randolph: The base shot is pretty much going to be me from the waist up, behind the fence. Have it be close enough to me that we don't reveal the rigging for this, but that's kind of obvious.
Roger: Makes sense, sir.
Randolph: A couple of big things. I think it's best to open the promo with a close up of my hand grabbing onto the fence. Then we go to the base shot as I let go and say my piece. I'll then grab the cage again. Zoom into my face as I do my thing here. When I say my money line, pan back to my hand and that'll close it out.
Roger: Yes sir.
Randolph: I know the fence is gonna put a damper on the Boom Mic, so I need Mark.
(Mark arrives on R.W.'s side of the cage, carrying a wireless mic and battery pack. He's clad in a white t-shirt, black windpants, and white sneakers. R.W. puts the wireless mic on and tests it.)
Randolph: Picking me up loud and clear, Roger?
Roger: Not quite, sir.
(R.W. adjusts a knob on the battery pack. His voice becomes a bit louder the next time he speaks.)
Randolph: How about now?
Roger: Yes sir.
Randolph: One more question: Is the lighting alright?
(an offscreen response is given. R.W.'s nod seems to indicate that it's a positive. He and Mark then walk stage right until they are out of the shot. The pieces are all in place, now it's time for the fun part...)
Part II: Time to make history.
(Screen fades in on a hand whose fingers are interlocked in a chain link fence. The knuckles are worn, proof of the many battles he had been in. The voice is haunting, but it is traditional R.W. Randolph.)
Randolph: You thought I was blowing smoke, didn't you? You thought I was making idle threats. You thought that you were safe hiding behind Ms. Rodriguez. You thought wrong, Vato...
(The hand relinquishes the fence as the camera slowly zooms out, to reveal the Broken Saint, clad in his traditional Denim Work shirt and blue jeans, his head is covered by a Black Trucker's Cap and eyes concealed behind those aviators. He methodically paces as he speaks, resembling more a caged animal than the number #1 contender to the PWE Universal Title. He continues to speak...)
Randolph: Before I continue with my opposition for Ultraviolence, I want to say a few things to our old friend Blake Gold. Blake, I see that you have some problems against the former Universal Champions. For all your talk of success, when you face the true elite of this business, you're winless. You tied against Bashi, while pretending to be Gateway Champion. And you fell to me. You need to find that extra gear that we all know you have. But I think you can take heart in knowing one thing: losing to me doesn't make you a bad wrestler. A lot of very good ones have fallen at my hands. Write it off as a learning experience, Vato. And remember this: you may be getting better all the time, but it will take a while before you're at my level.
Speaking of my level, that brings me to one Eric Josten. The fraud on the throne. You had that fear, didn't you? You joked about me being "unworthy" of a title shot, forgetting who I was. You dismissed me as a nobody, forgetting who I was. You thought I would just go away, forgetting who I was. As you had to declare me the victor against the man you may have to face at All Star Weekend, I think you found yourself remembering. You remembered that I am one of those few people who will tell you to your face that you're a big retarded moron and watch you not do a god damned thing about it. You remembered that I walked through hell itself to get even with your mentor and possible life partner Chris Jacobs. You remembered that I was the one who stopped Tomoko Hanahara when no one else can. You remembered that I was the one who caused the implosion of the New Organization of Wrestling. And you remembered that I was the one who sent The Known Unknown packing.
Let me spell out the main thing that separates us, apart from wrestling ability, size, and all the tangible bullshit that doesn't matter. When I stepped into the big leagues, I found a similar rising star and we catapulted each other into the stratosphere. Then, when I stepped into ICE, a good portion of the crowd and the locker room already knew who I was. Those who didn't know, found out really god damned quickly. I ran with Devon D'Andre and Chris Titan at the time, Devon was already a household name due to his time in Colo. He was a little bit bigger than I was, but ICE wasn't his time. Titan was on the verge, but not quite there. Add me, and we become a force. And while the Saints were running roughshod over ICE, my matches were becoming the most talked about. And when I received my only ICE Universal Title opportunity, I made the most of it. My PWE stuff you already know about, and I won't go into it.
Now, here's your career since hitting the big time: You hitched your wagon to Shawn Christopher, a guy whose best days have passed him by. You became his thug and even won the most meaningless title in the PWE with him and Frontier. You then decided to turn your back on him and hitched your wagon to Chris Jacobs, a guy whose best days have passed him by. You became a thug and through your procurement of that video of Amerie's activities in Tijuana, you got yourself a Universal Title shot. And with a bit of help, you managed to get that belt around your waist. And you somehow managed to be Universal Champion without defending the title. Good for you.
(R.W. stops pacing. He grasps the cage in a menacing fashion as the camera zooms in on his face. The menacing glare sends its message loud and clear as he continues.)
Randolph: To put all of the above into terms even you can understand: I clawed my way to the top upon hitting the big time. You took the easy route. You're soft, Vato. I don't mean that as a reference to your mid-section. I mean that, despite your size, your power, and everything else you bring to the table, you can't cut it as a Universal Champion. That's why I said you won't be Champion after All-Star Weekend. Either Blake Gold ascends to the throne, which is a very real possibility regardless of what happened in the match with me, or you're gonna drop the belt in the Garden.
Of course, things can always change. You can always apply the flashes of greatness that have gotten you by thus far over a long spectrum and actually become the Champion you pretend to be. It's a bit of a long shot. You could find a way to destroy me legitimately one way or the other. I don't see it happening, but it could. You could take this newfound ferocity and use it to roll through Blake Gold like you are a god of professional wrestling. Again, unlikely but not completely impossible. But it all comes down to this: How does Erik Josten react when he's inside the Steel Cage with R.W. Randolph?
(A dramatic pause. R.W. snarls coldly as he finishes his diatribe.)
Randolph: There have been people asking me how it would feel to be on the brink of history. I wouldn't know. I honestly haven't thought about the implications of being the PWE's first two-time Universal Champion. What I can say is this: I am looking out for the best interest of this company by demanding this match. More than what can ever be said for you, Vato. That cage will be unforgiving against flesh and bone. And the same can be said for the Broken Saint. Come Ultraviolence, you can't run, you can't hide, all you can do is find yourself Knocked Out... or Clocked out!!!
(Camera pans up to the hand of the challenger, fingers interlocked in the fence. The time is drawing near. Can R.W. regain the PWE Universal Title?
Fade out.)
