Promo: A Whole New World

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

NOVEMBER 2, 2002

5:25 AM

 

A harsh wind whistles through the air, sending a chill through even the most rugged individuals. The Danvers Substance Abuse Center stands out above the frost-tipped ground, darkened in the midst of the silent night. As the sound of a lone dog bounces through the air, a lone light still burns from a room in the upper right corner of the building. Albert Katowski, better known as the Boston Strangler, stands at the window, the light behind him partially blocking his view of the outside world with the glare. Strangler sighs and yanks down the shade, sending it hurtling into place with a sharp crack as he turns back to the middle of his room. He stares off towards his door, his eyes lost in a sea of his own thoughts as he slowly starts to mutter under his breath.

 

“Damn Wilson….all his fault I’m in here. Then he goes off to some tropical shithole, leaving me in fucking Danvers. We were friends, dammit. And now, I’m alone again. Alone once again. No job, no family, no friends…why did I do it? Why’d I go through all the trouble of beating Taylor? Wilson never cared. No one ever cared. I got left off the Wargames team. I got ignored when I lost to Taylor. I never got the ICTV title. And never a kind word, never any comfort. They didn’t care about me at all. Just like the Clan…bunch of heartless bastards. I swear, those groups have been nothing but trouble. In the end, they always turn on you. I don’t even know why I…”

 

THUNK!

 

Strangler is snapped out of his dream-like state by the loud noise from against his door. He opens it and looks down the hall. He spies one of the attendants, holding a stack of newspapers, passing them out as he walks down the hall. Strangler shoots his best evil look at him as he withdraws back into his room, his Boston Herald in hand. He immediately flips to the back page, and skips through the pages chronicling the massive Celtic meltdown against the Wizards, and finds Gerry Callahan’s ramblings. He breezes through the Red Sox GM search, and suddenly freezes.

 

“…at SWF Dissention, Magnificent Seven leader Tom Flesher proved his dominance once again, defeating stablemate and self-proclaimed Flesher protégé Mak Francis. The match was truly a spectacular work, pitting…”

 

Strangler stares at the paper in shock. Finally, he drops it to his mattress, a look of complete and utter shock on his face. “That bastard Flesher is running the M7? I was Wilson’s friend, his confidant, his lieutenant…then he ditches me for some Clan reject amateur punk? That’s IT! I’ve had enough of this. I’m SO getting out of here.”

 

Strangler quickly pulls on his pants and tugs on a pair of boots. As he steps out through the door of his room, he snags his coat. The rehab center orderly, having delivered all the newspapers, whirls around, only to be met by the 6’9”, 300 pound Strangler. The orderly slowly cranes his neck upward, his chin trembling until the two men lock eyes. “Mr. Katowski, I’m afraid you’ll need to go back to your room now. You know that we don’t serve breakfast until six, at the ear…”

 

Strangler grabs the man by the lapels on his coat and slams him up against the wall with a loud crash, sending a picture crashing down from the wall to the hallway floor. Strangler glares ahead, looking at the terrified orderly with a sardonic grin. “Rick, I like you. And for that reason, I’m not gonna hurt you…unless you make me. I’m done here. I’m not coming back. I need to get busy doing other stuff. You follow the SWF?”

 

Rick can only nod, frightened, as Strangler continues. “Of course you do. And you know that Tom Flesher is the leader of those talentless morons, the M7. But that was MY job! Those were MY morons! And now, I have to go transact some business. In 30 minutes, I’ll be in a cab to Boston. Then, go to the doctors, say that I was gone when you came to deliver my paper, and you’ll be off the hook. They’ll write me off as another junkie, and I’ll be back on track. You understand me, Rick?”

 

As Rick nods, Strangler releases him, letting him slump back against the wall. Strangler walks into the lobby where the nurse at the reception desk looks up, a frightened look on her face. “Mr. Katowski, where do you think you’re going?”

 

Albert Katowski turns, smiling, to the woman. “Go ask Rick”, he says before pushing open the door and slipping into the night, leaving behind a completely surprised woman.

 

6:02 AM

 

The cab speeds along Route 128, darting along the empty highway. Strangler sits in the back seat, watching the foliage fly by at 75 miles per hour as he loses himself in thought once again, the clicking of the meter lulling him into a drowsy contemplation once again.

 

Well, I learned my lesson last time. I trusted Chris Wilson with everything. He brought me back when Thoth and the Clan threw me out. He said that this time, things would be different, that things would have a happy ending. Well Chris, you were right. You did have a happy ending. You’re in Jamaica or Aruba or St. Thomas or somewhere warm, sipping some Corona and enjoying the high life. And Flesher’s story had a happy ending too. He’s the brightest young star the SWF has, he’s the leader of MY stable…he’s just picture-perfect. But what about me? Strangler didn’t have a happy ending. He ended up as a steroid-bloated freak who got betrayed by his friends. But this story isn’t over yet. There’s GONNA be a happy ending someday. I still gotta get back in the league. I still gotta get back in ring shape. But when I get back, I’ll show those punks what I’ve learned. Don’t trust people. Don’t bind your future to other people. Don’t…

 

Strangler is cut off as the cabbie slams on the breaks as the Mack truck in front of him slows down drastically. Strangler, caught completely off balance, goes flying forward into the plexiglass with a loud SMACK!. Strangler pushes himself off the glass and shakes his head briskly while accepting the apologies of the cabbie.

 

And never let your guard down…that’s when they get you.

[Guest Powerplay]

A returnee! Hell yeah! Nice promo Stranglemeister... the respect you hold for your fellow man (But that was MY job! Those were MY morons!) is certainly admirable. Good set up, and nice no-selling of plexiglass. (Y)

[Guest El Luchadore Magnifico]

And when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear, that now I'm in a whole new world with you! [/Aladdin]

 

Uh, great promo. Good to see you back, Strangler.