Post by Damon Graves on Jul 21, 2018 11:34:57 GMT -5
San Diego Comic Con
San Diego, California
Scene opens inside the Dealer's Room, where swarms of attendees are milling around, taking in the sights, deciding what souvenir to take home with them. We cut to a shot of a display case holding a pantheon of wrestling figures, but our focus is drawn to one in particular: an extremely lifelike rendition of current WCG West Coast Champion Donovan Basch:
Voice: Damn… the details are amazing.
The camera pulls back to show NGW competitor Damon Graves looking at the display.
Voice: I couldn't agree more….
Damon spins around as the camera pulls back even further to show Donovan Basch himself standing behind him.
Damon: Gah!
Donovan: Didn't mean to startle you, Damon…
Damon: Damn, you're like the world's biggest ninja….
Both men laugh.
Donovan: But I do agree that the resemblance is uncanny. Makes the scanning process all worthwhile.
Damon: I heard that you have a booth here…
Donovan: You heard correctly. BaschTech's line of gaming peripherals seems to be a big hit.
Damon: Yeah, I heard that too. By the way, I just wanted to thank you again for helping me to train for WrestleForce…
Donovan: Think nothing of it. Besides, it helped me out as well.
Before Damon can reply, a voice rings out from behind them.
Voice: And I thought I was the only one cosplaying as Damon Graves…
They both turn to find a fan standing there, dressed in his interpretation of Damon's ring gear. Any exposed skin shows fresh ink embedded in his skin, in imitation of Damon's signature tattoos.
Damon goes to say something, but Donovan shakes his head, as if to say, ‘let the man speak and see where it takes us’.
Fan: Nice work on the tattoos. You really did make them look like you've had them for years. Mine should look that way in a few years…
Damon: That's because I HAVE had them for years.
Upon hearing Damon's voice, the fan's jaw drops.
Fan: Oh My God! You really ARE Damon Graves! This is great!
Damon: All of this ink looks fresh. Did you get all of this work done at once?
Fan: Yeah, my buddy's practicing to become an apprentice someday….
Damon scrutinizes the fan's body art.
Damon: I can tell. A lot of the linework is blown out… there are some areas where the colors aren't completely saturated… shading is pretty good, though.
He looks up at the fan's face.
Damon: No offense, but I have to ask…. Why? Why would you subject yourself to this, especially in one sitting?
The fan looks slightly crestfallen.
Damon: Look, I'm not trying to knock you or anything, but this is something I tell everyone that's looking into getting some ink…. This is permanent, so get something that has special meaning to you. It's flattering to see the lengths you went to, though…
That last little bit cheered him up a little bit.
Fan: If it's not an imposition, could I get a selfie with you guys?
Donovan nods, as does Damon. The fan pulls out his camera as the two grapplers flank him. Damon smirks, Donovan scowls, and the fan plasters on a huge grin.
Fan: Thank you SO much! My friends are gonna shit themselves when they see this…
Donovan: Let's hope not….
The fan departs as the scene fades out.
Scene fades back in as Damon can be seen walking the streets of San Diego.
Damon: Where do I begin with you, Tillman?
Where. Do. I. Begin….
Everywhere I look, people try to compare me to you, especially since I became a dual champion.
I do my best to stop that train of thought right then and there, because apart from that, there ain't jack shit to compare….
Pun definitely intended.
While you tried to put a stranglehold on the Five Lakes and Tag Team Championships, I'm practically begging to face as big a variety of competition as this company can muster.
Why?
Because, to me, there's a huge difference between being a titleholder and being a champion. Let's look at how you and the “King of the Hobos” went about your reign as champs, for example.
Damon stops and looks up into the night sky. He sighs before pulling out a bandana and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Damon: A typical title “defense” pretty much consisted of a pre-match mugging, always from behind, followed by another mugging INSIDE the ring, with as much bullshit as you could get away with…
And it wasn't much different when you had to defend the Five Lakes title. Sneak attack, blah, blah, wash, rinse, repeat.
Couldn't get the job done the right way then, and you can't get it done by yourself now…
Ya see, I've tried the whole stable thing before. The Angelz of Destruction were doomed from the get go. I mean, get real… Gray Malone was fucking poison, man. Fucker's been kicked out of every group that felt sorry enough to have him.
And Rebel Society? Great concept, but you could tell right away that only some of us were fully invested in that group. If it weren't for Avery Miles III, I would've taken a pass on the whole affair.
Damon stuffs the bandana back in his pocket.
Damon: But you're REAL comfortable being part of a pack, right Jack?
Whether it's with the Dogs of War or the Destroyers, as long as you were given enough leeway, you had no problem throwing your lot in with whomever you felt would be of the greatest benefit.
And here in NGW, that worked out great… for awhile, anyway. The Destroyers had your back and you had free reign to do whatever the fuck you wanted. You ran amok and had a ball, until everything came crashing down around you. Jazzmyn Rain was finally able to wrest the Five Lakes Championship away from you, and then the powers that be had enough of your shit and stripped you of the Tag Team titles. But that wasn't the straw that broke the camel's back…
No, that didn't happen until the epic final showdown between the Destroyers and the Guardians. You dropped the ball in your cronies’ eyes, and that was the beginning of the end. Not long after that, the rest of those vultures served you with your walking papers, and you'd have an easier time finding a fucking unicorn than you would finding someone that shed a tear over that.
So, did you grow a set and take some vengeance against those who had wronged you?
Fuck, no!
You and that fucking leech Constantine started up your little recruitment drive, because you knew that more than a few members of the NGW roster are out for a piece of your ass.
Damon resumes his leisurely stroll.
Damon: Danielson? Him, I can understand signing on the dotted line, because like you, He functions better with backup than without it. Midnight Horsemen, that shitty Sex Appeal tag team with Latimer, the proof is as plain as day.
Alex Jones, on the other hand, surprised the fuck outta me. Teaming with Danielson wasn't that far-fetched; after all, there was a mutual respect there. But after the disbanding of Rebel Society, it looked to me like he was going to go on his own for awhile. Seeing him join the Dogs of War…. That was something I never thought I'd see.
But what's done is done. He's made the decision; I just hope the consequences don't bite him in the ass too hard.
But I'm not facing Danielson or Jones again… I'm facing you, Tillman. I mention them because it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see what's gonna happen. You're gonna brag about how much of a big shot you are, all the titles you've won, all that lovely stuff. But one little thing trumps all of that shit….
I'm the NGW Young Lions Champion, jackass, and there's no fucking way you're taking my title from me, not by yourself. So are you going to take your loss like a real man, or are you gonna be the alpha bitch and pull your usual bullshit? As much as is rather see you do something respectable, I’m not gonna hold my breath.
At Dissension, it doesn't matter. You're coming into the match without a belt, and you're leaving with no belt AND a healthy chunk taken outta your ego.
Damon comes to a stop in front of his hotel.
Damon: Sink your teeth into THAT, Tillman.
Scene fades out as Damon enters the lobby.