Post by Donovan Basch on Jun 16, 2018 11:36:33 GMT -5
Scene opens inside a hotel room. Donovan and Danielle Basch dump a veritable mountain of bags down on the king-sized bed.
Donovan: Did you HAVE to buy every single piece of merchandise that was available?
Danielle: Most of these are E3 exclusives… besides, you owe me for that little stunt you pulled at the Nintendo booth…
Danielle starts pulling out an assortment of Funko Pop figures and stacking them on a nearby desk, including once of the aforementioned E3 exclusives… Super Shadow the Hedgehog.
Donovan: Dearest, I never out-and-out said that I had never played Splatoon 2, did I?
She turns back to face him.
Danielle: No… but how did you get so good?
Donovan: I'll give you a hint…. Why are we at E3?
She ponders this for a moment
Danielle: To promote WCG…
Donovan: And?
Danielle: And BaschTech’s new line of gaming peripherals… ok, I get your point.
Donovan: Splatoon 2 is a very intense game. What better way to test out our Switch peripheral line?
Danielle stops stacking her goodies to get right in her husband's face.
Danielle: True….. But we ARE having a rematch one day….
Donovan: Looking forward to it….
He takes a finger and boops her on the nose. She shakes her head and turns back to her “wall of Funko” as the scene fades out.
Scene fades in on a title card:
pa·gan
noun
A person holding religious beliefs other than those of the main world religions.
After a moment, the title card fades out and the screen is filled with just Donovan's face, a burning intensity filling his eyes.
Donovan: To most people, the word “pagan” conjures up an assortment of dire images, rife with sinister undertones. If they were to simply open their eyes, they'd find that, at its core, a pagan is not something to fear.
The corners of Donovan's mouth pull down, displaying the contempt he currently feels.
Donovan: At the upcoming Hype, my opponent would prefer to prey on the tendency to take things at face value.
I won't be giving little Jimmy Pridmore any such thing.
Yes, I called you Pridmore, because I'm not going to give any credence to this “infernal transformation” that you've recently undergone. You're the same whining, petulant child you've always been. Now… you've simply added a horrendous makeup job.
Tell me something, Jimmy… are you flitting about like a giddy school girl, giggling with glee with the opportunity that LITERALLY fell into your lap?
The circumstances of our upcoming match could be chalked up to serendipity. I needed an opponent, and so did you; Mercedes made the match official. Simple, right?
He pauses a moment before shaking his head.
Donovan: No, let's look a little deeper…
The whole Nite Stalker charade was surprisingly effective, Pridmore. I would certainly give you credit on your clever little bit of deception, except for one thing. You betrayed a close friend of mine, and that is something I will not abide.
Don't kid yourself, Pridmore, you aren't getting this title shot because you deserve it. If Mercedes didn't sign this match of her own volition, I would have insisted on it. The West Coast Championship was an enticement, to ensure that you would accept this match.
And you did.
He chuckles.
Donovan: Without even the slightest hesitation, you agreed to face me.
The last time you and I faced off, my sole motivation was victory. Yes, I was still early into my reign as West Coast Champion, but it was a non-title match. And I brutalized you. You can claim until your dying breath that you held back to facilitate your lie about being attacked before our match, but I could tell that as the bout went on, you started fighting with all of your might, but to no avail.
Think about that for a bit, Pridmore.
Like it or not, you are part of a legacy, boy. Your uncle, Billy Danielson, is not one of my favorite people, but I'm not so vain that I can't admit that he got the better of me when we fought. You would think that any amount of time in his presence would have imparted SOMETHING beneficial….
He snorts.
Donovan: Honestly, I think this “transformation” you've undergone is more of a way for you spare your family any additional shame. Your new persona has no family, and the Pridmores and the Danielsons can breathe a sigh of relief that the rancid fruit of the family tree can no longer threaten to infect the rest of the line with your mediocrity.
The camera finally pulls back enough to show that Donovan has the West Coast Championship belt draped over his shoulder.
Donovan: At Hype, it won't be the same Donovan Basch that you're facing. I won't be looking to simply defend my championship. No, my motivation goes a bit deeper. Austen Blackwell is one of the few people in this business that I can truly call a friend, and he made the mistake of trusting you. When you betrayed him, it took every ounce of restraint not to rip you to shreds the moment I could lay my hands on you.
No, I waited. I kept myself in check, knowing that eventually fate would deliver you into my hands….
He pauses to laugh.
Donovan: Yes, it does sound melodramatic, but isn't that a tool you so readily rely upon in order to make yourself seem better than you truly are? If your words had any depth to them, then you could have won a dozen championships by now…
Donovan tilts his head, closes his eyes, and spreads his arms wide, as if the light of the Rapture is falling upon his brow.
Donovan: (Mockingly) The “Bastard Era”....
A glorious reign of terror across multiple companies, where all shall tremble at the very sound of your name…
He drops his arms and his head, staring straight into the camera.
Donovan: (deadpan) What a load of garbage.
Don't look at me as the harbinger of your ascension, you face-painted fool. I am not the catalyst of your apotheosis, but rather the harsh light of truth that will expose every weakness and uncover every flaw.
He dips his shoulder just enough for the championship belt to slide off into his waiting hand. He holds it up near his face.
Donovan: And this….. This is my throne, charlatan, and there is nothing you can do to oust me from it.
The camera pulls back in on his face.
Donovan: See you at Hype, boy. Leave the pompous melodrama in the locker room.
Scene fades to black.