PROMO: Sunday, Bloody Sunday

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

DING!

 

 

WHOOOOSH!

 

(no thunk)

 

Edwin MacPhisto steps out of the elevator in he and the Carnival’s swanky hotel and begins to walk down the hall.

 

Too much was going on. Tag matches with non-Carnies. Silent. Wilson. The whole bloody lot. He needed a vacation, but it’s not like he could run away. That wasn’t really an option anymore. He had to deal with Wilson on Sunday, then Silent, then whatever else came down the way.

 

He had made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it.

 

He swishes the keycard into his door and as the green light flicked on, he enters into the darkness. He fumbles on the wall, finds the switch and flicks it on, cascading light all over the room.

 

Edwin tosses his trench coat onto a chair and prepares to plop down onto the sofa, but he sees the bathroom light is on. He slowly walks over and pushes the door open.

 

Lying on the floor is an unconscious Chris Raynor.

 

“Bloody hell…”

 

Lying on top of Raynor is a note, and Edwin starts to rush over to his friend to help him up and see who or what left the note, and why. Skipping the how and the when thought process, Edwin steps into the bathroom…

 

…and immediately feels a white-hot pain shoot across his neck as he’s jerked backwards. His assailant pressures him down to the floor, using whatever leverage he can to choke out Edwin faster. Edwin struggles against his attacked, trying to wriggle himself free.

 

Why the hell was he thinking of him as ‘the attacker’? It was Wilson, and that was the last thought Edwin had before he finally fell in into darkness…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness wakes and stirs imagination

Silently the senses, abandon their defenses

Helpess to resist the notes I write

For I compose the music of the night

 

Edwin MacPhisto’s eyes slowly flutter open and he brings his neck up to look around. He’s in an old theater, on the stage. And his hands are tied behind his back. With him on the stage are a grandiose piano, and an evil genius plucking away at the keys and crooning away.

 

Slowly gently, night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it

Sense it

Tremulous and tender

Hearing is believing

Music is deceiving

Hot as lightning, soft as candlelight

Dare you trust the music of the night…

 

Edwin continues looking around, seeing a chair with Wilson’s trench coat, sunglasses and belt lying on it as well as an ornate chessboard and a large model of a carnival, ferris wheel spinning and lights twinkling.

 

Close your eyes…

 

Wilson looks up and sees Edwin’s awake. His eyes light up.

 

“Good morning, sunshine.”

 

“Hello darkness, my old friend.”

 

"Did you like it?"

 

"Let's just say you're no Michael Crawford."

 

"Pity you weren't awake for my stirring rendition of 'Summer Lovin'. Theaters get me all in the musical mood."

 

Wilson smiles and rises from the piano bench, closing the cover of it and pulling the bench over across from Edwin. A cold British stare is all he gets.

 

“Was this really necessary? Knocking out Raynor. Choking out me. All of these theatrics.”

 

Wilson’s smile disappears as he leans forward, chin on his hands, elbows on his legs and looks down at the floor.

 

“You used to enjoy this. The heat of the battle. The one-upmanship. You beginning to plan your revenge five minutes ago.” Wilson looks up at Edwin. “Not anymore. You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling. Wo-oh. That lovin’ feeling. You’ve lost that-“

 

“Save it. Can you please untie me?”

 

Wilson shakes his head, looking back down at the floor.

 

“Nope. You’ll just leave. And I don’t have the heart to choke you out again. You just don’t care anymore, Edwin. Your heads off in other places. Silent comes in, and that’s fine. Let him come. If he distracts you and you snap and end up murdering him or me or the whole locker room, fine. I basically know what the hell happened, as putting two and two together and making a couple phone calls isn’t overly difficult. And I still don’t care. I don’t fear you. I never have, and I never will.”

 

“Well that’s great to know, Chrissy, but I don’t think you do understand.”

 

“No, you don’t understand. I worked my ass off since I came back. Sure, you beat me at Snake Eyes, using Z and that stupid roll up. And it took you AND Thoth to beat me on Storm, but I’m still the best man in this company. Maybe second best. But I’m second best to a whacked out, journeyman Brit who’s scared to death of the shadows of his past.” Wilson looks up at Edwin. “Seems to me if I stick around long enough, I’m going to be number one by default.”

 

Edwin locks eyes with his nemesis. “Don’t you concern yourself with the matters of Silent and I, and I’m not going to be disappearing or dropping any time soon.”

 

Wilson stands up and starts to pace around a circle around Edwin, hands clasped behind his back. “I know, but sadly I will. So I’m going to have to make the best of what time I have left.”

 

Shock registers on Edwin face, then confusion. “You’re what? Leaving?”

 

“I’m afraid so. My time here is running short. Some business came up, and I’m really not going to be able to last much longer. A pity, really. Because this fed will head right back into the toilet.”

 

“When are you going?”

 

Wilson stops and shrugs. “Soon. It’s not going to be like last year, when I faded away.” He lets out a laugh. “I’m going out with a bang, baby.”

 

Edwin snorts. “I’m sure you will, and trust me, we’ll get along just fine without you.”

 

Wilson returns to his piano bench and lies down, staring up at the dimmed theater lights. He turns to look back at the restrained Edwin. “Everyone else might, but you won’t.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Your nothing without me. Your reign, record-breaking as it is, would be nothing without me. You’d be regarded as one of our worst champions ever if not for me or the Magnificent Seven. Think about it.”

 

“I’m thinking. It’s still not making a large amount of sense.”

 

Wilson returns his gaze to the sky, sighing. “Think about it, Eddy. Eliminate me from the equation: Now who do you defend the belt against? What’s the whole federation look like? You’d be holding prestigious title defenses over the likes of Erek Taylor and Fallout, great wrestlers, but men I’ve beat a few times over since my return. The big pay-per-view match of Thoth vs. Edwin?” Wilson lets out a near cackle, amused. “Do you realize Thoth’s won really one match since he came back? He beat Deathwish, and barely. Erek won him that title shot, I promptly beat him, and you did as well. You think after his career bombs and everyone looks back at your reign and the big match against him, they’re going to think much of you?”

 

“I’m like the Vader to your Skywalker. Rooney to your Bueller. Flair to your Steamboat. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe if I wouldn’t of come back, Sacred and Thugg and Bo wouldn’t have went running away in tears, tails between their legs as opposed to fighting for the top heel spot with me. It was basically mine by default, and I made the most of it. Look at the stables. I made X Force 9 as strong as it is now, mainly by giving Pete the motivation to put something together to compete against me. Creative Control exists only because I limited the number of people that could be affiliated with me. If the Magnificent Seven was ‘Heels Unlimited’, then I’m sure you’d be going up against a much larger united front.”

 

“Ego much? Seriously, Wilson. I thought you’d gotten off your “Lord and Creator” trip. I’m disappointed.”

 

Wilson leans back up and spins to face Edwin. “Edwin, you can worry about Silent. I don’t care. He’s your problem. Worry about Breggan. And Stubby. And the Clan. It doesn’t matter to me. But come Sunday night, I’m going to be your only worry. It’s no interference. Do you know what that means?”

 

“All the viewers will be getting crystal-clear quality audio and video, without worries of solar flares?”

 

Wilson fakes a sweet and amused smile. “No. That means that it’s going to be me. And you. No holds barred. Blood. Sweet. Tears. The entire freaking spiel.”

 

“Apocalypse, title for title-“

 

“Woah, hold up, pardner. I never said anything about my title being on the line. Just leave that part up.”

 

Edwin gives Wilson a look of disgust. “I’ve beaten you twice already. No wonder you’re scared to put the title up.”

 

Wilson rises from his seat, a switch snapping inside of him. Rage fills his eyes. “I’m not scared of you Edwin! Who won WarGames, you son of a bitch?! And this time, you don’t’ have Z. Or Thoth. Or anybody else to bail your sorry ass out.”

 

“I doubt I’ll need them, old friend. It’s going to be rather elementary, and that’s what the basic consensus of everyone else is. They’re looking past this.” Edwin looks up at his kidnapper. “They think your done. The run’s over, and Sunday’s going to be the end of the road for you.”

 

“Fuck them!” Wilson knocks the bench over, the thud echoing through the empty theater. “Ask your good buddy Mark about what happens when I get underestimated. Apocalypse title defenses for Carnies in No-DQ matches haven’t worked very well in past, and I doubt it’s going to get any better, my fair Prince.”

 

“I’m not scared of you either, Wilson. I’ve been to Hell and back, and trust me, it’s not half as fun as you may think.”

 

“I’m not worried about Hell right now, Edwin. I’m worried about taking your title, which I will.” Wilson jams a thumb into his chest. “I’m the greatest goddamn heel this world has ever seen, and win or lose on Sunday, my legacy is going to be cemented. If I go down, you and your stupid freaking Carnival are going down with me.”

 

Wilson wanders over to his chessboard, and Edwin scoots his chair around to see him better. He picks up one of the pieces, slowly spinning it in the flickering light.

 

“That’s already done, though, isn’t it?”

 

“What’s done?”

 

“The destruction of your Carnival. I planted the seeds, Silent’s watering them, Stubby’s got JD out there working everyday like the little bitch he is. Your not getting the mass recruits like you used too, as XF9 is cutting in on those. Z and Chris and Mag are only going to take so many beatings from the enemies you make before they’re going to leave you.”

 

“I don’t think you understand the power of friendship, considering the only people are you are just waiting to stab you in the back. I suppose it is you’re not waiting too long to get out.”

 

Wilson glares at Edwin. “You just don’t understand, you stupid bastard! Your looking ahead, to whenever you’ve got to deal with Silent. You’re trying to get me preoccupied with other things, like my boys here in the Seven. But it’s not going to work.” Wilson begins to shake slightly, laughter rocking his body as he waggles his finger at Edwin. “Oh no, there’s no way it’s going to work. Because I’m the ICTV champion, and come Apocalypse, I’m going to be a double champion. And if that even matters to you in your jaded little world anymore, I don’t know, but it is exactly what’s going to happen.”

 

Wilson grabs one of the pieces from the board. Z. He wraps his hand around it, smiling. “And no one-“

 

SMASH! He chucks it across the floor, the glass shattering and skittering across the polished wooden stage. He reaches down and grabs another piece. Raynor.

 

“-is going-“

 

SMASH! Magnifico.

 

“-to be able-“

 

SMASH! He reaches down again.

 

“-to help you.”

 

He has another piece in his hands, but its Edwin. Wilson looks at it, then to the man it represents.

 

“Come Sunday, my dear friend, everything comes to an end. The curtain drops. The lights go out. And another Midnight Carnival comes to a close.”

 

Sounds start to come from the back of the theater, and Wilson’s head snaps up.

 

“Well, it looks like it’s time for me to go.” He gets right up into Edwin’s face, sneering. “Tell me Edwin: Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

 

He slugs Edwin across the face, tipping the chair over and sending the SWF Champion toppling to the stage. Wilson stalks over to his chair and grabs his trench coat, belt and sunglasses, quickly putting them on as the sounds grow louder. He takes the Edwin figurine and walks over to the model carnival. With one last laugh, he casually drops it into the center, the figure shattering and spreading over the entire park. Wilson looks to the back of the theater, then back down at Edwin one last time. He gives him a wink, then walks into the darkness.

 

As soon as he does, Chris Raynor, El Luchadore Magnifico and Z come rushing down the aisle and sees the form of Edwin tipped over on the stage.

 

“Edwin!”

 

“Hello boys.”

 

They rush around the orchestra pit and up the stairs onto the stage, tipping Edwin’s chair back up and untying him at the same time.

 

“Esse, are you all right?”

 

“I’m going to be just fine, thanks to you boys.”

 

Raynor shoves the not that was lying on him into Edwin’s face. “Whoever it was left us directions. Wilson?”

 

Edwin nods. “Wilson. I’m sorry, Chris. I thought he’d at least somewhat go by the truce.”

 

Raynor meets Edwin’s gaze. “I’ll survive.” He sniffs the air. “What’s that, smoke?”

 

The entire Carnival prepares to bail and avoid any death at the hands of a bomb or arson, but they all look over and see small flames flickering, nothing imminently dangerous.

 

They walk over to the model carnival, entirely engulfed in flames. The ferris wheel lets out a groan and collapses in on itself as Edwin slowly realizes what just happened.

 

He had caused the destruction of the carnival. Possibly in more ways than one.

[Guest AnnieEclectic]

Shiiiiit that's deep. Way to pump yourself up as main heel in the company. And Wilson leaving? So soon? Damn man, I was going to kick your ass someday too! Sure, I'd need a couple years or so, but it would have happened! Yo!

 

Heh, great promo, excellent setup to Apocalypse... and let the games begin!

 

-Annie

[Guest Kibagami]

Promo-riffic goodness. Advances the feud, sets up Apocalypse, nods to the other surrounding storylines and the whirlwind o' stables within the fed...what's not to like?

 

Although my absolute favorite line...

 

FWOOOOOOSH! (no thunk)

 

Golden.

 

S.

[Guest Drew_K]

The Phantom of the opera, John Travolta, and Wilson..... they're the same person! NOOOO!!!!!

 

Sweetness, Wilson. Loved the build, the tension, and particularly the wonderful interplay and symbolism.

 

The carnival is burning..... will it rise, like the phoenix from the ashes, or fall into an inevitable, irreperable ruin?

 

Find out, next week. Same magnificent time, same magnificent channel.

[Guest WrestlingDeacon]

Very deep and cinematic. I've often thought that if WWE wanted to go deeper into the whole "entertainment" aspect this is the way they should do it.

 

But you're leaving? When Yul Brenner left the Magnificent Seven they replaced him with George Kennedy. Oh, the horror....

[Guest AnnieEclectic]

The Rock was gay....

 

-Annie

[Guest WrestlingDeacon]

And how is this a problem to a lesbian? Being gay does not make you uncool. Jim Rockford might not be a Magnum PI, but then again who is.

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

And how is this a problem to a lesbian? Being gay does not make you uncool. Jim Rockford might not be a Magnum PI, but then again who is.

BURN!

 

But...Wilson...is...EVVVVVVIIIIILLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!

 

That stuff is deep yo, especially the whole model of the Carnival burning down...but you're LEAVING!?

 

(N)(N)(N)

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

Wilson goes on about all this top heel stuff

 

 

But he never beat me!

[Guest realitycheck]

I got smashed.

 

Heh. That aside, I concur with several other people: THAT was some kind of threatrical genius. Brill, bill stuff. As eveyone else has said, I loved the chess board/carnival symbolisim, and the always awesome to read Wilson/Edwin exchanges. It's scary how well the characters have been able to play off of one another since day one. The end was suffecently creepy and FORESHADOWY~! and such. And I also like you taking my suggestion of playing an evil little tune on keyboard of some type. Even if you DIDN'T take it from me, I still suggested it, and hence, I'm taking credit.

 

Oh, and...

...Rooney to your Bueller.

Best. Comparison. Ever.

 

-Z

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Oh, and...

...Rooney to your Bueller.

Best. Comparison. Ever.

 

-Z

Well, Wilson is a Ferris Bueller mark...we can only expect such genius.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Super-excellent. I was waiting to see when you'd bring up the parallels to last year's Apocalypse, and lo and behold, there we go.

 

A hero's only as good as his villain. I'm gonna find where you live once you go and beat the hell out of you with a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude until you come back again.

[Guest Insanityman]

Anything with Bueller makes it gold. But this was just some great stuff... even more heat going into the PPV. Everything clicked perfectly.

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Okay, I'm going to make a clean edit of it later, but chris raynor ran off on Storm, and thus isn't really in my promo. It's the Robo-Raynor which is used to clean the Carnie hotel rooms and perform rescues. My apologies to my fellow Chris again, and that's my bad.

 

JD, I thought the only title that involved you was that losing to you made you Top Jobber? JD may make a great number one heel....that being right after I leave. Until then, numero dos will have to do.

 

Keep the comments coming, people. PLEASE?!

[Guest chirs3]

Robo-Raynor? SWEET!

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

Wilson... anytime you are ready...

 

and I'll make you look more ridiculous then a Chinese Blowjob