PROMO: A Truce

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

It’s after storm. The Magnificent Seven locker room. Chris Wilson sits somberly in a deep, swallowing leather arm chair, a half-filled glass of water and a bottle of pain pills beside him. Damned back. Damned Stubby for booking him in the damned match after Wargames. Didn’t see damned Edwin or damned Thoth get booked. They just got to bitch about damned Silent and cry about it. Goddammit.

 

Wilson stands and starts to stretch. Sitting around isn’t going to help him an- Ouch. Wilson straightens his back and gives up on the stretching idea. That’ll teach the other stables who want to step up. He’d knock you right back down. Ask poor little Erek Taylor, whose leg should be in worse shape than Wilson’s back. And he didn’t even have a title shot. Ah…Wilson loved it.

 

The leader of the Magnificent Seven and evil genius supreme exits his room, walking down the hallway, very slowly. The halls are basically empty, not a whole lot of anything going on. But there are some people that need talking too. And a proposition to make. Sure, Silent got bumped, but it was all going to fall into place anyway. End result?

 

New world champion.

 

That was the problem with the federation today. Everybody bitching and moaning and crying about something instead of trying to do the important thing: Win some gold. At least Strangler’s problem revolved around lack of gold. Everybody else’s…who knows.

 

Wilson reaches a door marked “Carnival” and he doesn’t hesitate to let himself in. He enters, lights are on and sitting there, in nearly complete silence, television on but not really watching, are Z and Edwin MacPhisto. Edwin looks up first, his eyes narrowing. Z looks over at him, then follows his gaze, a look of shock registering on his face.

 

“Edwin we need to talk.”

 

“Right bloody now? And who invited you in?”

 

“Yes, right bloody now.” Wilson skips the second question entirely. “Z, scram.”

 

Z glares at Wilson as Edwin’s steely gaze has not broken. “Go ahead. We won’t be long.”

 

“Edwin, are you-“

 

“Yea, but thanks. If you hear girlish screaming, call 911 and I’ll meet them at the door with the victim.”

 

Z gets up and starts to walk out. He pauses beside Wilson, seemingly sizing him up for a moment, before continuing out the door. Wilson turns to watch the door shut, and when he spins back he’s face to face with an angry Brit.

 

“Now: What do you want?”

 

“To talk. I thought you’d enjoy that, considering the problems you’ve been having lately.”

 

“I don’t need therapy with you. I thought that would be rather obvious.”

 

Wilson nods. “I suppose so. But I came to make you an offer. One you really couldn’t refuse.”

 

“Oh, I’d hardly guarantee that.”

 

Wilson smiled as he began to pace around the room. “Oh, I would. In fact, I’d put money on it. My career on it.” He looks up at Edwin. “You need this. You need this more than you know.”

 

Edwin sighs. “Chrissy, I’m tired, I don’t really have tim-“

 

“You’re tired?!” Wilson nearly explodes. “You’re tired? You, Mr. ‘I’m going to spend the whole night crying to Stubby or Thoth or Raynor or anyone who will listen’? Mr. ‘I lost WarGames, but I’m still world champion, though we all know how the better man and better stable is now.’ The nerve of you, motherfucker.” Wilson eyes boil with rage as he glowers at Edwin. “While you were pussy-footing around, I got booked! Booked after that match. You were in that cage. Outside the cage. You know the shape I was in, yet I get booked? And who still wins.”

 

It’s like somebody flicked a switch, and Wilson is calm again, and he and Edwin were talking like they were old friends. “I do, just like always. One loss, Eddy. That little fluke loss to you at Snake Eyes when you needed Z and the freaking roll-up. But I’m not here to talk about the past. I’m hear to talk about the future.”

 

“What about the future?”

 

“Well, my good friend, you’re having your troubles with Silent. Why, I don’t know. I don’t really care. I don’t see what the big deal is, really. Everyone’s so in awe and such. He does hold those coveted wins over Cutthroat and Spike. Hell, Edwin, Jay Dawg could beat him. Why the hell are you so scared?”

 

“You don’t understand Wilson, and you don’t know. As much as you like to think your mind is the foremost authority on everything, this is one area way outside your expertise.”

 

“Oh, shove it. He’s the one that hit me with the cane when he came down and ruined my celebration at WarGames. He didn’t hit you. I’m the one that should be out for blood, crying to the Balancer and the Reaper and trying to ‘protect’ Raynor.” Wilson smiles. “I know what you’re doing, chum. I know what you’re doing, and it’s going to be my pleasure to let him know.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Wilson waves a hand, dismissing further questions. “But enough. No more past. Future. Now, the offer.”

 

Edwin cocks his head to the side. “Yes?”

 

“A truce, of sorts. Not between us. I’m still going to take your championship, ruin your career and expose you for what you really are. But what I’m proposing is that I tell the Magnificent Seven ‘No more beatdowns on Edwin. No more ambushes. No more muggings. It’s between me and him.’ And then you tell the Carnival the same thing about your good ol’ buddy Chris. I want you, one on one, inside and outside the ring. I’m sick of the pranks and the jokes. And I’m sure you’re sick of the attacks and mauling. And on top of that, we all know where this story ends if you don’t accept.”

 

“Where would that be?”

 

Wilson’s lip curls up in a sardonic smile, eyes piercing Edwin. “In a double steel cage, ring on fire and your friend Chris Raynor screaming for mercy while your lil’ pal Z bleeds like a stuck pig-“

 

“I get the picture.” Edwin cuts Wilson off this time. “What makes you believe I’ll trust you? You’re not the most honorable guy in the world.”

 

Wilson gets right up in Edwin’s face, the smile still there. “From what I saw tonight, you have to trust me. A man can only stretch himself so many ways. This is one less burden for you, but if you want the injury or termination of a career of one of your compatriots on your head, so be it. I can’t help the fact you’re a cold, greedy individual. But I can try to help them. You know me, Eddy Mac. Loyal friend of the Carnival for life.”

 

Wilson slips around Edwin and heads towards the door. “Think about it. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time tonight while your thrashing in bed, insomnia full blast as you think about cane-wielding bumpees.” Wilson grabs the handle of the door and pauses. “Good night, fair Prince. I await your response.”

 

Wilson swings the door open and steps out to find Z standing there, leaning against the wall and not having got out of the range of where he could help his leader. Wilson gathers him in for a moment, realizing the concern and want to help in his eyes.

 

“I wouldn’t both with it, Z. What Edwin’s fighting right now is something you can’t help with. I wouldn’t worry your little head.” Wilson smiles. “You better go talk to him. Go on now.”

 

Wilson lifts his leg up and swings it, taking an over exaggerated step as he wanders back down the hall, black trench coat seemingly flowing around him, yet clinging to him at the same time. He lets out a light little laugh as he goes. Well, light for someone like Wilson. Not so light for anyone with a conscience. Or morals. Or ethics…

 

 

 

 

 

Z walks back into the room, leaning out and eyeing Wilson cautiously until the door swings shut.

 

“What did he want?”

 

Edwin’s back in the chair, thumb and forefinger running up and down the bridge of his as he leans forward, thinking. He stops, and looks up at Z, a helpless frown on his face.

 

“He wants to stop the fighting…”

 

“What? Edwin, what are you talking about?”

 

“…and I think we’re going to have to go along with him.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris Wilson reenters his locker room and crosses over to a table in the far corner. It’s a large chessboard, crystalline figures strewn across it. Some are grouped; others are on their own. As the camera pans in, it can be seen that each one of the figures is actually a representation of a SWF superstar. Wilson reaches down and grabs one of them, lifting him up.

 

It’s Edwin.

 

“Oh, my good man, it’s not going to be long now. Every man has a breaking point, and yours is fast approaching.”

 

Wilson sets the piece back down where it was, but reconsiders. He clears the rest of the Carnies out of the way to make room:

 

 

And moves Edwin closer to the edge.

[Guest kelloggs]

NO it's the chess board of DOOM another strong showing from one of the WF's many promo masters.

 

Oh yeah...and what about Silent?

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Ooh. Awesome. You come out of nowhere with these things, and it always pleases me so much. Fine subtle manipulations as always...and damn, when did we get an SWF chess board? I want one.

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

"Hell, Edwin, Jay Dawg could beat him. Why the hell are you so scared?”"

 

You are so dead motherfucker. I mean it's common knowledge that I can tune him, but comparing it like I am the jobber... die.

 

 

 

Otherwise pretty good. It's amazing how gay Wilson really is. Collecting dolls of the SWF'ers and pushing them over the edge. Somebody never got to be Ken when he was a little boy.

[Guest realitycheck]

Nice, very nice. The chess board was a nice touch. About all you need to cement your place as 'greatest evil mastermind ever' is a badass cloak and an evil pipe organ tune.

 

...but I bet the Edwin figure doesn't have mis-matched eyes.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Whuh? Carnival's fighting with Clan again, and now they're trucing with M7?

 

Messed up, but it keeps Wilson/Edwin going while freeing up the rest of M7 for a round of serious asskickings from XF9! MUWAHAHAHA!

 

Um, yeah. Anyway. Carry on.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

PROMO (Stubby P. McWeed);

"So now M7 and the Carnival ally...

 

...because of Silent.

 

This is getting silly.

 

Mothernature says..."

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Actually Stubby, I didn't get alliance out of it at all. I just got "calling off the dogs." We're stripping it down to Wilson/Edwin, because Wilson alone wants to be the one to crack Edwin, and because he really needs to get that one-on-one victory.

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Yeah, Edwin's correct.

 

Don't worry, Stubbster. I'm not buying into the Second Coming angle, this is just to get down to mano y mano and set up some more stuff to screw with Edwin's head. It's alllll good.