Promo: Change of Setting

[Atlas 0]

The loud garage door opens once Security has confirmed the driver’s identity. Guards step aside as the enormous metal wall shifts higher, letting in some sunlight from the outside. The shadow of a vehicle appears, followed by the vehicle itself – a rented Chevy Imapala. Just as the door clears, the driver passes under it, riding past the guards into the rapidly growing group of parked cars within.

 

He finds his spot and shuts the vehicle off, stepping out of the driver’s side door with an athletic bag in hand. The driver, which until now hasn’t been revealed finally shows his face... sort of. It’s Sean Atlas, and it’s his mask that we see rather then mug underneath. Other than the mask, he’s dressed in street clothes: blue jeans, a black T-shirt with some vague wrestling references, covered by a very worn leather jacket that clearly has some years on it.

 

Parking attendants give him strange glances as he continues down the lot. It’s not too often that someone arrives at the arena already wearing a mask. How committed is this man to his gimmick? And more importantly, what does he have to hide?

 

Placing the strap of the bag over his shoulder, Sean walks through to an exit out of the lot. He walks up to a door with a guard standing by.

 

“Good afternoon, sir.” says the security guard with a wary look on his face. Sean Atlas’ reply to him...

 

“Yeah.”

 

He passes through the doorway and continues down the hall, past many closed doors and storage carts. Cabling and various production equipment lines the hallways here, and the amount of people surrounding him gradually increases as he strolls on. Fleet Center staff and SWF employees say hello to him, receiving little in return save for an occasional glance or nod. Seemingly focused, Sean moves past them all speedily.

 

 

He then reaches a vast area with lights, cameras, and plenty of action going on. Backdrops are being set up for wrestlers to cut promos, cameramen and production assistants communicate over their radios, adding to the general volume of noise. Different from his setting in the Junior League, this really is the big time, thought. A company that gets the respect it deserves, rather than a simple farm league or a startup group.

 

“Things sure are different here.” he says.

 

From a distance, he spots his co-workers in the room. Some discuss their matches for later that night. Others confer with cameramen and producers between promo takes. Plenty of them line the snack table along one wall, getting their hands on all the free food, courtesy of Baker’s Best Catering in Boston. He wants none of it, however.

 

A new group of people to work with, he thought, far and away more talented than those the League provided. He won’t storm through these guys like he did down there. Just looking at them, it’s clear that this is a whole new ballgame, with all new players... Well, almost. Over by the corner, his fellow Leaguers from months gone by, Janus and Dace Night stand next to a road agent, probably discussing the Hardcore Title match that will follow his own.

 

Elsewhere, Tag Team champions William Hearford-The Judge, and Ejiro Fasaki pass by looking a bit anxious about their match against a returning Boston Strangler in his own hometown. As the two of them walk out of view, Atlas can’t help but miss the enormous frame of the Icelander himself, Frost. He sits at a table, calmly eating a hefty meal by himself. TNT is nowhere to be found however.

 

Realizing he’s been standing in one spot for far too long, Sean starts walking across the large room. Then, not too far away appears the form of another masked man, Beezel. Atlas smiles a bit at the sign of another man hiding his identity. Luckily, this guy took the extra step and got himself a voice modulator. The two both reach near the center of the room and acknowledge one another with a mild glance lasting less than a second. “Freak,” Atlas mouths to himself, then realizes Beezel probably thought the same.

 

Sean continues his way across the room, glancing around to see more Federation talent. As the room gradually becomes a hallway, he sees another familiar face, Mike Van Siclen, exiting a room. Mike notices him as well and greets the man that rose up through the SJL in just a fraction of the time that he did.

 

“Atlas, glad you’re here. Settle in and come back here in around an hour. If you find Johnny, let him know. We’ve got a match to talk about, and I think Raynor’s the agent. Should be great.” Says Van Siclen as he walks away, not awaiting an answer.

 

Atlas simply mouths an OK and walks on. Surprised at just how far above him Mike and the others seemingly are, he realizes that he’s at the bottom of the ladder. Losing to Dace at Battleground didn’t help his cause, but at least he got another shot at contendership. Good commissioner, that King.

 

He reaches the general locker room and walks in. Seemingly alone in here, Atlas sits down on a bench and takes a breather, absorbing all the information he just took in. Raynor as his agent, he thought. That should be interesting. That Beezel guy, another mask wandering around the place. Should he go find Johnny now, or just hope to bump into him?

 

His thoughts are cut off by some racket outside. Through the closed door, he hears someone passing by, yelling obscenities at the people behind him. The unique tapping of sandals identifies the man as Neilsen, which for some reason makes Atlas smile a bit. He soon walks past and away, taking the noise with him...

 

Sean continues to think. Will Raynor bring him great news about the match? Going by Mike’s confidence it seems that the Craven/MVS feud isn’t over yet. Or maybe it is, and creative would rather do a Wildchild/Dangerous match for the belt to add some intrigue. But then what about himself? Hopefully it’ll be Johnny that stares up at the lights tonight and not him. Another consecutive loss just isn’t acceptable.

 

Atlas shakes the thoughts off and picks up his gym bag. Opening it, he takes out his wrestling gear – tights, boots, pads, tape, etc. The camera pans around him in a circle, then backs away towards the door while the masked Atlas starts to change. The door opens, seemingly for no one as the view back up further, then closes again, blacking out the scene.

Edited May 9, 2003 by Atlas

[Guest Dace59]

\m/

 

Reminds me of Judge's stuff, which is very cool.

[Forewarned 0]

Very cool, you little newbie mother f**ker...heh...

[Guest Dace59]

*Waits for Atlas to pull what he did in the SJL*

 

If he does, he'll be holding you down before you know what's hit you.

 

Damn, Atlas you gotta try to do it, you know you can.

[Atlas 0]

Heheh.... riiiiiight. You're fuuuuunnnnnyyy.

[Guest Mr. Slim Citrus]

Your promo is interesting, but I'm confused; I always thought that the fed ran under a "kayfabe is reality" paradigm.

[Atlas 0]

The way I approach it is that the in-show promos are always in kayfabe, while anything posted independently can be whatever you want it to be. With this I was trying to show what's going on inside the head of the new guy on his first day (The PPV was more of an event rather than a regular day at the office kind of thing).

[Guest Ace309]

Yeah, the Kayfabe Is Reality thing is sort of "The Rule," but as always, you can bend The Rule if you do it well. I think you did it well here. Nice job, boyo.