Post by Hardcastle on Aug 17, 2005 23:24:53 GMT -5
<The scene opens outside the palatio estate of "The Show" Eric Hardcastle. In the driveway, we see the sparkling black BMW 6 Series, M Class. The stone marble walkway leads up to the front door. Once inside, the home is decorated in modern deco. Black leather, abundantly, dominates the furniture. Up the stairs and to the left is the master bedroom. Brittney Bailey steps from the master bedroom and begins walking down the hall. She is trailed by a Gucci rolling suitcase. An almost worried look crosses her face. She stops, just above the steps and lets out a long winded breath. The camera man begins his march down the hall. The plush carpet comforts his feet. Inside the master bedroom sits a California King size bed. A pillow top mattress adorns the bed. More importantly, for the first time since the betrayal last Sunday, is Eric Hardcastle. Hardcastle is not dressed in his normal tailor made suit. Today, he is dressed in a simple white CK button down and a pair of Diesel jeans. Eric is seated on the edge of his bed. His head heavily bandaged from the brutal attack following his main event tag team match from Sunday Night Slam. His hands are folded and covering his mouth. His eyes remain motionless, just staring towards the floor. As the camera man walks in, the door creeps open just slightly. Yet, Hardcastle is hard pressed to acknowledge his presence. But suddenly, he speaks. His voice is almost silent.>
Eric Hardcastle: I really don't know what to say. Trust has always been an issue with me. I guess sometimes I have been too trusting. Evidence, this past Sunday. And sometimes, I haven't been trusting enough. Evidence, probably sitting atop the stair case, crying.
<Hardcastle continues to keep his eyes glued to the floor. Almost like he cannot face the world.>
Eric Hardcastle: I feel......I feel like I have let a lot of people down. I can't count the number of people that told me not to trust Brandon. That he and I have had a history that has stemmed from too long ago. And I didn't listen. Well...more like I wouldn't listen. Brittney.....she....well....nevermind. Its my fault. I'm a man. I make my own decisions. I guess.....I just made the wrong one.
<Downtrodden, Hardcastle shakes his head. With a moments silence, his eyes roll up and his head tilts to the sky. An almost violent stare crosses his face, as his hands fall to the side.>
Eric Hardcastle: But that changes. It changes here. And it changes now!
<Hardcastle's voice begins to grow in volume.>
Eric Hardcastle: Brandon Bailey, you hatched a plan and pulled the wool over the world's eyes. And I was a sucker. I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. But that's over. Those days....they have come and they have passed. I will not rest until the day that I have my revenge, Brandon. You hurt a lot of people. You busted my skull wide open. I needed seventeen stitches to close this wound. Seventeen f**k**g stitches!!! You will need twice as many to close the wound that I am going to open up on you. This isn't over Bailey.....not by a long shot. If this was just you, doing what you do best, stabbing people in the back.......I would let it go. I would chuck it up to your idea of always needing that added advantage. But it wasn't about me, not solely. You used your sister as a pawn throughout this entire time. Now she is torn. Torn between me and you. The man she loves versus her own flesh and blood! That beautiful woman is hurting deep inside, Brandon. She is hurt and confused. And that's all because of you. All because of Brandon Bailey, The Sin City Saint and Gage Creed. The Impact Piss ants, as far as I am concerned. Three big cowards, who hide behind their numbers.
<Hardcastle sits up from the bed and walks over to his dresser. A giant mirror adorns the wall, as Hardcastle looks coldly into his own eyes.>
Eric Hardcastle: You crossed the line, Bailey. You crossed a line that you can never come back. They call you "The Assassin", Brandon. Starting this Sunday, they are going to start calling me "The Assassin". You know what......that's a silly name. People will start calling me "The Career Killer". I am gonna take your cronies out, one by one. Each one will fall, until there is just you remaining. Brandon, don't think for one second that I am going to Sizzler to try and cost you your match. In fact, I want you to win. I am betting on the fact that you walk out of Summer Sizzler the World Champion. Because it would give me no greater pleasure to take that title straight from your ass! So rest up. Be prepared. Study the video tapes. Do whatever the hell you need to do. Just make sure you walk out of Summer Sizzler the World Heavyweight Champion. I'm counting on you Brandon. You should be counting too. Counting down the days, until you become the next victim on "The Career Killer's" list.
<Hardcastle turns towards the camera and rests against the dressor.>
Eric Hardcastle: Now speaking of Summer Sizzler, I have a little business to attend to myself. The Gauntlet Match. A match of pure endurance. Well, I might not look so great right now. I might have this bandage wrapped around my head. I might have had my ass handed to me last week. And I might be a little preoccupied right at this moment. But come Sunday, I will be good enough to walk into Orlando Florida a man. And walk out of Orlando, Florida.......the number one contender. Immune, you and I have tangled before. You and I have gone one on one. And I KNOW I can beat you. Hell, I got the videotape to prove it. What I also know is that you are no lightweight. You're power and strength are unmatched in Valor. But my speed and quickness will give me the upper hand. And I will put you down for the count, one more time. So, then there's ZMaster. Z, there ain't too many people that I hold in such high regards. But you, my friend......happen to be one of them. A guy who has busted his ass and EARNED every accolade ever thrown his way. It will be of great honor to tangle up with you. A chance of a lifetime to step into the ring with the man, known as ZMaster.
<Hardcastle grabs a bottle of his Armani colonge and tosses into his bag. He closes the zipper shut. He looks back up towards the camera.>
Eric Hardcastle: And that leaves everyone's favorite high stake gambler, The Sin City Saint. You're a PUNK!! Saint......you're really nothing but a punk. And a wannabe punk at that. A real "punk" would stand up and slap me in the face all by his lonesome. Not needing two of his buddies to hold me back. But you couldn't do that. In fact, you couldn't even do the slapping. Because you are nothing more than a cronie for Brandon Bailey. You are a submissive to his will. In an S & M flick, Bailey is the guy with cat of nine tails and you're just the slave with a ball stuck in your mouth!!!
<Hardcastle flashes the trademark "Home Alone" pose with his hands covering his cheeks and his mouth slightly gaped open.>
Eric Hardcastle: Saint, you're number two on "The Career Killer's" list. Once I finish with Gage Creed, you'll be next......then Bailey. And this Sunday, at The Gauntlet, I plan on exacting my plan of revenge. I plan on taking you down a notch. You talk about me crapping out. I bet on snake eyes bitch! And you're look'n straight at them.
<Hardcastle points to his eyes with a stern glare.>
Eric Hardcastle: I will walk out of Orlando Florida as the new number one contender. And I will walk out of Orlando Florida, with a career killed!
<Hardcastle grabs his bag off the bed and tosses it over his shoulder. He begins to head out the door, as he spots Brittney standing in the doorway. She reaches out and wraps her arms around him, as Eric returns the embrace. The screen fades out to black.>
Eric Hardcastle: I really don't know what to say. Trust has always been an issue with me. I guess sometimes I have been too trusting. Evidence, this past Sunday. And sometimes, I haven't been trusting enough. Evidence, probably sitting atop the stair case, crying.
<Hardcastle continues to keep his eyes glued to the floor. Almost like he cannot face the world.>
Eric Hardcastle: I feel......I feel like I have let a lot of people down. I can't count the number of people that told me not to trust Brandon. That he and I have had a history that has stemmed from too long ago. And I didn't listen. Well...more like I wouldn't listen. Brittney.....she....well....nevermind. Its my fault. I'm a man. I make my own decisions. I guess.....I just made the wrong one.
<Downtrodden, Hardcastle shakes his head. With a moments silence, his eyes roll up and his head tilts to the sky. An almost violent stare crosses his face, as his hands fall to the side.>
Eric Hardcastle: But that changes. It changes here. And it changes now!
<Hardcastle's voice begins to grow in volume.>
Eric Hardcastle: Brandon Bailey, you hatched a plan and pulled the wool over the world's eyes. And I was a sucker. I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. But that's over. Those days....they have come and they have passed. I will not rest until the day that I have my revenge, Brandon. You hurt a lot of people. You busted my skull wide open. I needed seventeen stitches to close this wound. Seventeen f**k**g stitches!!! You will need twice as many to close the wound that I am going to open up on you. This isn't over Bailey.....not by a long shot. If this was just you, doing what you do best, stabbing people in the back.......I would let it go. I would chuck it up to your idea of always needing that added advantage. But it wasn't about me, not solely. You used your sister as a pawn throughout this entire time. Now she is torn. Torn between me and you. The man she loves versus her own flesh and blood! That beautiful woman is hurting deep inside, Brandon. She is hurt and confused. And that's all because of you. All because of Brandon Bailey, The Sin City Saint and Gage Creed. The Impact Piss ants, as far as I am concerned. Three big cowards, who hide behind their numbers.
<Hardcastle sits up from the bed and walks over to his dresser. A giant mirror adorns the wall, as Hardcastle looks coldly into his own eyes.>
Eric Hardcastle: You crossed the line, Bailey. You crossed a line that you can never come back. They call you "The Assassin", Brandon. Starting this Sunday, they are going to start calling me "The Assassin". You know what......that's a silly name. People will start calling me "The Career Killer". I am gonna take your cronies out, one by one. Each one will fall, until there is just you remaining. Brandon, don't think for one second that I am going to Sizzler to try and cost you your match. In fact, I want you to win. I am betting on the fact that you walk out of Summer Sizzler the World Champion. Because it would give me no greater pleasure to take that title straight from your ass! So rest up. Be prepared. Study the video tapes. Do whatever the hell you need to do. Just make sure you walk out of Summer Sizzler the World Heavyweight Champion. I'm counting on you Brandon. You should be counting too. Counting down the days, until you become the next victim on "The Career Killer's" list.
<Hardcastle turns towards the camera and rests against the dressor.>
Eric Hardcastle: Now speaking of Summer Sizzler, I have a little business to attend to myself. The Gauntlet Match. A match of pure endurance. Well, I might not look so great right now. I might have this bandage wrapped around my head. I might have had my ass handed to me last week. And I might be a little preoccupied right at this moment. But come Sunday, I will be good enough to walk into Orlando Florida a man. And walk out of Orlando, Florida.......the number one contender. Immune, you and I have tangled before. You and I have gone one on one. And I KNOW I can beat you. Hell, I got the videotape to prove it. What I also know is that you are no lightweight. You're power and strength are unmatched in Valor. But my speed and quickness will give me the upper hand. And I will put you down for the count, one more time. So, then there's ZMaster. Z, there ain't too many people that I hold in such high regards. But you, my friend......happen to be one of them. A guy who has busted his ass and EARNED every accolade ever thrown his way. It will be of great honor to tangle up with you. A chance of a lifetime to step into the ring with the man, known as ZMaster.
<Hardcastle grabs a bottle of his Armani colonge and tosses into his bag. He closes the zipper shut. He looks back up towards the camera.>
Eric Hardcastle: And that leaves everyone's favorite high stake gambler, The Sin City Saint. You're a PUNK!! Saint......you're really nothing but a punk. And a wannabe punk at that. A real "punk" would stand up and slap me in the face all by his lonesome. Not needing two of his buddies to hold me back. But you couldn't do that. In fact, you couldn't even do the slapping. Because you are nothing more than a cronie for Brandon Bailey. You are a submissive to his will. In an S & M flick, Bailey is the guy with cat of nine tails and you're just the slave with a ball stuck in your mouth!!!
<Hardcastle flashes the trademark "Home Alone" pose with his hands covering his cheeks and his mouth slightly gaped open.>
Eric Hardcastle: Saint, you're number two on "The Career Killer's" list. Once I finish with Gage Creed, you'll be next......then Bailey. And this Sunday, at The Gauntlet, I plan on exacting my plan of revenge. I plan on taking you down a notch. You talk about me crapping out. I bet on snake eyes bitch! And you're look'n straight at them.
<Hardcastle points to his eyes with a stern glare.>
Eric Hardcastle: I will walk out of Orlando Florida as the new number one contender. And I will walk out of Orlando Florida, with a career killed!
<Hardcastle grabs his bag off the bed and tosses it over his shoulder. He begins to head out the door, as he spots Brittney standing in the doorway. She reaches out and wraps her arms around him, as Eric returns the embrace. The screen fades out to black.>
