Promo: Erase/Rewind

[Toxxic 0]

Andrew Rickmen sits on the edge of his bed in his hotel room, waiting for the phone to ring. The Insane Luchador’s hand clenches a lit cigarette which he takes occasional drags from as he idly drums a rhythm on his leg, staring off into the middle distance. Suddenly the ICTV Champion’s reverie is disturbed by a knock.

 

“Yeah?” he shouts at the door.

 

“I’ve got a delivery for a Mr. A. Rickmen,” a muffled voice shouts through. Rickmen shoves the cigarette in his mouth and wanders over to the door, unlocks it and pokes his head out.

 

“What is it?” he asks, staring at the delivery man in an intimidating manner. Seemingly disconcerted by the Insane Luchador’s multi-coloured eyes the man proffers a padded envelope and a clipboard. Tucking the package under one arm Rickmen scribbles a signature and thrust the clipboard back at the man, who gives a nervous smile. “Have a nice-” he begins, but Rickmen shuts the door in his face.

 

Back in his room, Rickmen tears the package open, discarding paper and bubble wrap until he is left with the only apparent item inside; a video cassette. Shaking the envelope to see if anything else is forthcoming Rickmen notices a small piece of card flutter out, which he catches in mid-air and turns towards the light to read:

 

PLAY ME

 

Shrugging, the Insane Luchador pushes the cassette into the video player, turns the TV on and hits Play. There is static for a couple of seconds before a dark and shaky picture appears, which quickly resolves into someone apparently trying to fix a camcorder to something solid whilst having it turned on. Suddenly, with the camera now apparently stable, the person in the shot moves back and is revealed as Toxxic. Rickmen’s lip curls up in a snarl, but Toxxic grins and begins speaking.

 

“Hey there. If you’re watching this then you should be Andrew Rickmen, the SWF’s own Inane Luchador, or whatever it is you call yourself.” The lopsided grin widens momentarily before suddenly disappearing.

 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Rickmen - I’m not scared of you. Mark Stevens gave me some spiel about you being a nutjob, but to be honest I couldn’t care less. What goes on in your head is no business of mine, and if I was scared of nutters I wouldn’t have got in the ring with Jacob Helmsley twice and I certainly wouldn’t have got into the ring against Aecas at From The Fire.”

 

Toxxic moves slightly, and it becomes clear that there is a television behind him. The straight-edger stares at the camera again and begins talking once more.

 

“Now, Andrew, people have been telling me that your this weirdo masochist guy and that no matter what I do to you, you’re not going to tap out. Which is all very admirable, but” Toxxic gets up and moves out of shot, apparently going to pick the camera up “doesn’t mean a thing to me.” The camera lifts off its base and moves closer to Toxxic’s TV, zooming in until the screen in the same room as the challenger fills the screen that Rickmen is watching.

 

“To point this out to you clearly, here’s a little demonstration.”

 

Suddenly the screen springs into life with the last few moments of the Hardcore Gamer’s Championship match from From The Fire. The screen shows Toxxic sliding off Aecas’ shoulders and landing behind him, snaring him in a Dragon Sleeper on the way down before managing to lock in the Repeat To Fade and falling backwards. The shot changes, as it did on the night of the PPV, to a close-up of Aecas’ face with blood pouring from his forehead and his jaw whilst Toxxic wrenches back on the hold and screams for his opponent to give up.

 

And Aecas doesn’t tap...

 

 

And Aecas doesn’t tap...

 

 

And Aecas doesn’t tap...

 

 

And Aecas goes limp.

 

*DING! DING*

 

 

The screen freezes and the camera zooms out again, then shakes as Toxxic transfers it to a different grip, then spins as he turns it towards his own face, clearly holding it at arm’s length.

 

“So you see, Rickmen, whether or not you’ll tap doesn’t bother me. In the end, all I have to do to win is make you pass out.” Toxxic tilts his head to one side, his spiky black hair, so like Rickmen’s own, silhouetted by the light from the doorway behind him. Suddenly the lop-sided grin returns.

 

“And that suits me fine.”

 

With his non-camera hand Toxxic holds up a video remote, one finger on the rewind button.

 

“See this, Rickmen? This is your friend. Rewind what you’ve just watched. Watch it again and again, because I wouldn’t want you to be unprepared for what will happen when we meet on Lockdown. And Rickmen, if you think that somehow you’ll be able to make me tap instead...”

 

The grin widens.

 

“...prepare to be proved wrong.”

 

The camera shakes once as Toxxic presses the power button, and then the screen goes blank.