Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 DATELINE: The morning after Lockdown. We fade in on a close-up of the face of Mike Van Siclen, a faraway gaze on his face as we fade out and can see where he stands -- in line at a breakfast buffet, presumably in the dining room of whatever hotel he stayed at the night before. A gym bag is slung over his shoulder, and Van Siclen's attire on this morning is sickeningly casual, with "Harrison High" sweatpants and a grey wifebeater, but despite the 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' look Van Siclen still sports the SWF Tag Team championship, strapped firmly around his waist. The line moves slowly, and Van Siclen sighs, clutching his plate as he finally arrives at the waffle maker. He grabs a Dixie cup of batter, pouring it onto the griddle and shutting it. He sets the egg timer next to the waffle maker, and settles in, heaving the occasional sigh. This goes on for about a minute, allowing Mike plenty of time to get to know his inner being, to allow the increasingly attractive scent of the waffle to flutter into his nostrils... "MIKE!" ... and there goes that moment. Van Siclen turns back to the waffle maker, opening it and retrieving his little morsel of heaven off the griddle. He moves along the line, grabbing a container of syrup and spreading the gooey golden liquid all over his waffle... "MIKE VAN FUCKING SICLEN!" At this, the people surrounding Mike -- old, overweight businessmen who have to pretend that they don't swear in public when in reality they're probably at home calling their wives "dirty fucking cunts" while they beat them in a drunken haze -- simultaneously turn around and stare at the man yelling. Van Siclen, however, stays focused on his syrup, making sure that it is spread evenly along the golden-brown plains of his waffle... "You son of a BITCH, Mike, don't ignore me!" The man next to Mike taps him on the shoulder. Van Siclen grunts out an acknowledgement, and the man leans over. "I believe he's talking to you." Mike looks over his shoulder, seeing the awakened form of "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez, also clad in his bedtime clothes -- black mesh shorts and a black wifebeater. Van Siclen looks back at the old man. "I believe he is." Van Siclen turns around, holding his waffle-filled plate and walking to the nearest table, taking a seat. Cortez stalks over to the table, but he doesn't sit down -- he prefers to stand up, his irate face staring down at the self-proclaimed Spectacle, who is currently taking a knife and fork to his waffle. Cortez's breathing is heavy, and the Urban Legend is downright livid... but he manages to keep his temper in check for long enough to get a sentence out. "I just watched the tape." No response. Cortez is obviously rattled by this, but Van Siclen merely places a piece of waffle in his mouth, chewing it slowly and looking straight ahead, at Todd's midsection. Todd keeps his temper held back, continuing. "Are you paying attention, you self-centered son of a bitch? I watched the tape, Mike. I know what happened out there, and I want a God-damn explanation." Van Siclen takes another bite of his waffle. Cortez is seething at this point, and the only thing keeping him from strangling his partner is the prospect of one of the already-leery businessmen calling the cops on him. Van Siclen takes another bite, and as he goes to put his fork down Cortez slaps it out of his hands. It clatters on the tile floor, and Mike looks down at it, but Cortez slams his hands on the table, trying to redirect Van Siclen's focus. "NOW, Mike." Van Siclen, unnervingly calm, leans over and picks his fork up off of the floor. He sits up again, putting his fork on the table and looking up at Todd. "Sit down, Todd, you're blocking the Olympic results." Taken aback, Cortez sits down across from Van Siclen, unsure of what to do. Mike looks at the ticker at the bottom and lets out a sigh of relief. "We beat Greece, thank God. We may medal yet." "Did you pay attention to a WORD that I said, Mike?" "Keep your voice down, Todd, Christ. Didn't the streets teach you any manners?" "Don't give me your manners crap, Mike. I'm through with it. I'm through with the manners, I'm through with having to STAND BACK and watch MY two partners beat the HELL out of each other, Mike, and..." "You're through with me?" Cortez stops. His breathing is heavy, but he allows it to slow down, trying to maintain control of his emotions. "I wasn't going to say that." "Why not, Todd? You're sick of manners -- that's my deal, obviously -- you're sick of your two partners beating the hell out of each other, and you're saying all this to me, not your masked associate... what else is there to say but Hollywood Boulevard is through?" "Mike, that's not what I meant." "It's not like I wouldn't deserve it, Todd. I mean, of the two of us, I'm the one that knocked you out last night. I'm the one that hit the Riot Act on the Masked Man, not the other way around. I'm obviously the one with anger management issues here, why not eliminate me? It'll rest easier on your mind than casting off someone who didn't give you a good reason, won't it?" Cortez fumbles around for words for a few moments. The sudden self-pity from Van Siclen is not necessarily a new thing, but it's caught Cortez off guard, and all he can do is ask, "How can you even say that, Mike?" "Because I had all last night to think of exactly what I was going to have to say to you this morning, Todd. While you were slipping in and out of consciousness, I had Pete and Jake drive you to the hotel. And after I did that, I went out for a drive myself, and I spent the entire time wondering to myself, Mike, is this really all your fault?" "It's not, Mike..." "Yeah, I knew you would say that, too. But look at the facts, Todd. With him, you beat Revolution Zero. With me, we lost to Revolution Zero and now find ourselves having to defend these belts on Lockdown against them." "Yeah, but Mike, it wasn't just us against Revolution Zero. Two on two, you know we're the better team." "Against Revolution Zero? I'm better than both of them by myself. But let's keep with the facts. Against Andrea and Birdman, you two pulled out the win. Adding me and Justin Bowers, we fall to them. I can't just look at that as coincidental, Todd." "I understand, Mike, but if you put the two of us in a ring against Andrea and Birdman, I'm sure we'd beat them, too. I know you may have forgotten this, Mike, but recent losses aside we are still the SWF Tag Team champions, and that makes us the best team in the SWF today." "Yes, but Todd... people still doubt that you and I are the best team in the SWF." "Who cares what they think, Mike? You know you're never going to silence all the doubters, and come on, who's better than we are? Revolution Zero?" "No, not Revolution Zero, Todd..." Mike's voice trails off, and Cortez's face falls -- it's dawned on him what Mike is hinting at. "Oh." "Yeah, two-on-two, we can take Revolution Zero. Two-on-two, we can take Andrea and Birdman. I don't have any question in my mind that we could take out any tag team in the SWF today... except one." "42nd Street." "Exactly. You're right -- we are the Tag champions. And theoretically, that makes us the best. But people think that 42nd Street is better than Hollywood Boulevard, and that's because they think the Masked Man is better than Mike Van Siclen." "... so what, Mike? You're still the one with the belt, even if he is..." "... and is he?" Cortez stops again. "What do you mean?" "Is Masked Man a better wrestler than me? Is Masked Man the one that should be holding my belt?" "Mike, you know I can't answer that." "You're right," Van Siclen says, and he snaps his fingers, emotion heavy in his voice as he gets to his feet. "I do know that you can't answer that. I know that the fans, right now, are sitting at home and filling in the Masked Man as their answers, but they can't answer it, either. I know that right now, Todd, I'd love to tell you that I'm better than he is, and deep down I really believe it, but no matter how much confidence I have in myself, even I can't answer that question." Mike sits down again. "But you know how I hate questions, Todd. I want an answer. I want this self-doubt to stop. I know that you -- and you don't have to try to hide it, because it's natural -- but I know that you're doubting me inside your head, and I want those doubts to stop, too. I want an answer to the question of who is better, Mike Van Siclen or the Masked Man. And Todd, I want it soon, before it costs me anything more important than a few moments of self-doubt." There is silence for a few moments, as Van Siclen's words sink in. Neither man talks, and then Mike heaves a deep breath, getting up again. "Look, I'm gonna hit the road, I've still got some thinking to do... if I don't see you before Storm, well, good luck with Landon, okay?" Todd watches as Van Siclen leaves, his gym bag slung over his shoulder as he pushes through the heavy metal hotel doors and into the sticky Phoenix morning. The two may be tag champions together, but Mike Van Siclen and Todd Cortez have never been more distant, and Cortez is powerless to change this -- he knows that Mike has to find the answer on his own. All that Todd can do now is hope for the right one. Fin. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
King Cucaracha 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Veeeery nice. I'm liking where this is going. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Dace59 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Ohhh... tension, drama, and all without a cry of "You Slag!" Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 As always, I love the character interaction. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Horse hockey! Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Very nice promo. I liked the interaction going on here. Kudos. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Edwin MacPhisto 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Somehow we need to figure out a way to cutt Todd in half and have a Hollywood Boulevard vs. 42nd Street match. Bifrication = ratings. This is cool stuff, but I do hope we get the blow-off soon. Before Genesis, actually, so whatever grudge match develops (and you know one will have to) can get the spotlight there and cinch the full story definitively. I'm personally waiting for Masked Man to unveil himself as Snow Demon. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Angel_Grace_Blue 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Somehow we need to figure out a way to cutt Todd in half and have a Hollywood Boulevard vs. 42nd Street match. Bifrication = ratings. This is cool stuff, but I do hope we get the blow-off soon. Before Genesis, actually, so whatever grudge match develops (and you know one will have to) can get the spotlight there and cinch the full story definitively. I'm personally waiting for Masked Man to unveil himself as Snow Demon. S! L! I! D! E! SLIDE~! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Somehow we need to figure out a way to cutt Todd in half and have a Hollywood Boulevard vs. 42nd Street match. Bifrication = ratings. Luckily, the ontological status of Todd Cortez is spotty at best. Hey, look, I have a new catchphrase! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 Somehow we need to figure out a way to cutt Todd in half and have a Hollywood Boulevard vs. 42nd Street match. Bifrication = ratings. You're still going to have trouble. Mike and Mask are going to fight over who gets the bottom half. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Angel_Grace_Blue 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 That's why you split him vertically. Silly Jennykins. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0 Report post Posted August 18, 2004 That will hurt the package though. Ouch. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
