Post by Talon Wilkinson on Oct 18, 2016 1:29:10 GMT -5
On a dry and hot Las Vegas evening, we find The Ice Box MMA and Wrestling Academy with its typical late night crowd of wrestlers and aspiring fighters training, lifting, and working out in this state of the art facility. The sound of intensive breathing, heavy bag chains rattling, and iron weights clanging fills the air, but further back inside the large training center stands a door marked "WILKINSON" inside the spacious and elaborate office the Ice Box founder, Talon Wilkinson sits behind a lavish mahogany desk, a stack of folders containing information on prospective wrestlers wanting to train at the gym on his left, and his computer on the right. He sits back in the tall backed Executive chair, his suit jacket hanging on the wall beside a framed photo of him and his bride Aubrey J. Parker at his wedding standing beside his best man Leander Apollo.
The former wrestler turned sports mogul is in the middle of a conversation with his wife Aubrey about what would appear to be an endorsement deal through the gym for one of it's clients.
Talon: So I was thinking about going with someone like Alyssa Drew, she's done a lot of work since coming in and she has the family pedigree that really gets folks attention.
Aubrey: Alyssa's talented, but I've been impressed with what I've seen out of Courtney Leinart.
Talon: ...and what about this kid, Eric Weaver. I hear a lot of good things from the staff about his work ethic. I like rewarding that behavior.
Suddenly the conversation is cut off as a tap on the door breaks the train of thought. Almost simultaneously, Talon’s office phone rings.
Talon: Hello…...you just LET someone walk through the gym?…..I don’t care if he was in a suit…...did you get a name?
Talon hangs up the phone as a voice comes from behind the door, answering the question he just asked the front desk on the other end of the line.
: If you open the door, you will get that name and so much more.
Talon looks at Aubrey, telling her to stay back as he gets up and walks up to the door. He unbuttons and quickly rolls his sleeves up prepared for anything as; Aubrey quickly palms a paperweight hiding it behind her. He opens the door, where he sees a slender man, dressed in a three-piece, cream suit. The man holds a cane with a yellow stone on the top and holds a smile on his face. Over his shoulder is a black velvet satchel with something noticeably heavy within it.
: The name is Rorey, Mr. Wilkinson and I need to speak with you... privately.
Rorey leans in a bit getting a looking into the office. He smiles at Aubrey who does not return the gesture. Talon looks back at her and then back at the man, who is still smiling.
Talon: First you barge into my gym. Then you ask my wife and business partner to leave. You're 0-2 Mr. Rorey. So let me make this simple. She stays. You talk. FAST
Talon walks back towards his desk allowing Rorey to enter his office. He rolls his sleeves back down covering his tattoos and assuming his mogul role. Rorey quickly enters the room closing the door behind him. He turns back to face the Wilkinsons sits down in a chair across from Talon’s desk, placing the satchel down next to him. He wraps the strap around his foot as Talon stands across from Rorey.
Rorey: Just Rorey. No need for the Mr. But with all due respect sir, you are a hard man to reach. I've tried emailing you. I've tried calling your office. You're booked solid for the next six months. People have said I'm impatient. I prefer to say I'm tenacious in getting what I want.
Talon raises an eyebrow trying to decide which of the two Rorey falls under.
Talon: Okay? So why are you here?
Rorey: Because you’re a businessman and I have a opportunity that tugs at your heartstrings.
Talon remains standing, staring at Rorey, who fixes his combed hair.
Talon: Alright, so what’s in the bag?
Rorey: Oh sir! Mother always told me it's best to save the best for last. But every story needs it's origins. You see, I’m from Red Hook, Brooklyn. New York is in my blood. My mother was born to Wall Street, my father a professor from Africa. I found myself on the outside of many groups being a product of an interracial marriage. I mean, I was a light skinned kid with red hair. Not many people in Brooklyn knew what to call me let alone like me. But wrestling Mr. Wilkinson! There was ALWAYS wrestling. Mr. Wilkinson, I envy your athletic abilities because I learned quickly, I wasn’t near the athlete needed to be a wrestler.
Talon: The pitch kid. Get to it.
Rorey: I’m getting there sir. Now, you have proven to myself and others that you can put together some of the best wrestling the world has to offer and that despite other narratives, you are the best in the promotion business.
Talon let's out a sigh
Talon: Look, Rorey, I'm gonna cut you off here. I appreciate the effort, but after SCW’s closure, I’m done promoting and owning wrestling companies and I’m not interested in starting from scratch again.
Talon gets up from his chair and begins to put his hand out to show Rorey the door
Rorey: Mr. Wilkinson, who said anything about starting from scratch. Sir, as I said, I’m a native New Yorker, and for me, there’s only one company that I’ll ever consider being the best, and that’s Code Red Wrestling. I’m here to help you reopen CRW, restore it to its former glory and take it further than even you imagined when you opened it.
Talon rolls his eyes having heard this all before.
Talon: Look kid. I've heard that before too. Since the day CRW closed all I've had is people pitching me to re open it. I've had offers to sell, I've had investors who wanted me to restart, It's been awhile since I've heard this pitch but TRUST me I have heard this pitch. And I'm not interested.
Rorey: Sir you have to let me finish my pitch. I am NOT like anyone else and I can prove it!
Aubrey steps up towards Talon and puts her hand on his shoulder.
Aubrey: Sorry Rorey, but you heard him, he isn’t interested.
She turns towards Talon as she continues to address Rorey.
Aubrey: Besides, we have a future to think about and putting more money into a company, Code Red Wrestling or any other, is something we shouldn’t be doing.
Talon looks at his wife, nods, and then looks back at Rorey.
Talon: I've made my piece with Code Red closing. Maybe it's time the rest of the world did too.
Rorey: Oh, no sir! I have a plan that I think you will find very financially responsible, with a low risk and a high ceiling, the sky is the limit in fact if you look at this propo - ...
Aubrey: I think my husband was clear with you Mr. Rorey
Rorey cuts Aubrey off, looking past her and only at Talon.
Rorey: I’d also foot a portion of the bill towards the shows sir. It's like noth --
Frustrated, Aubrey interjects again.
Aubrey: Rorey now I am being clear with you. This pitch is over.
As Aubrey crosses the desk to put herself between Rorey and Talon, Rorey nervously gets up, taking the strap of his bag around his leg. He places the bag onto the desk, a small thud results from the bag.
Rorey: Now the pitch is over. Take a look in that bag and if you want to still say no, then I'll be on my way. Thank you for your time Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson.
Talon opens up the bag, looking into it as his eye’s light up. He reaches in as he pulls out the CRW World Heavyweight Championship. Rorey looks at the joyful ex-wrestler, reunited with the world championship that he felt he had lost. Talon's hands run over the nameplate that is fitted on the world championship his fingers feel the grooves where "Diego de la Vega" is etched. His hand leaves the nameplate and clenches into a fist as he puts it against his mouth.
Talon: I've had men pitch me CRW before. I've even had men bring in their world championship idea whether it was original or a fake they wanted to pass of as the real deal. But they always had it wrong. They always brought it in clean, shiny, and I always knew that wasn't MY belt. But this ... I can see the history of CRW in it. The dents where people used it as a weapon. The rust of our last champion letting it rot. THIS is the real thing.
Aubrey is taken aback at the sudden fragility that Talon is showing but Rorey is smiling ear to ear. He know's he has him.
Talon: I'm in.
Aubrey: Talon!
Talon looks back at Aubrey and just shakes his head "no" at her before looking back to Rorey.
Talon: Rorey what do you need from me?
Rorey: First and foremost ... we need a venue ...
Rorey smiles and begins laying out his plan as we fade out.
Inside the large and now run down sports complex once known as the Under Armour Arena, columns of light make their way in through holes in the 20,000 seat venue that was at one time the most state of the art in the United States. Water drips in various places, leaving the air hot and humid, condensation and a light fog form on the walls and hover just off of the concrete floors in the concourses. Seats are broken and overturned in the aisles, and there is an obvious lack of electricity. The only thing missing is debris and litter. No over turned trash cans, no graffiti. The camera focuses in on a row of turnstops, behind them a set of double doors that keeps the general public out of the facility. Faint counting can be made out from behind the doors, when suddenly they fly open, coming loose from the hinges as sunlight floods the area and an 8 man assault team pour into the entrance fully equipped with body armor, tactical gear, and CQB ready rifles. The group clears the area as a 9th member of the cadre walks through the entrance, his face hidden by the light angles, but the silhouette clearly being that of CRW Founder, Talon Wilkinson.
The team move through the arena, their rifle mounted flashlights cutting through the foggy air of the arena to create an eerie effect. Talon walks behind the teams formation as it clears the route for him to maneuver through the concourse. Eventually Talon reaches the stairs that lead down into the lower level of the arena’s seating area. He looks around as one of the tac-team members removes his helmet and checks out the view.
Mercenary: Jesus H. Christ, what kind of freak show is this?
Stepping past the team member, Talon simple mutters a simple phrase as he continues to look around.
Talon: ...The Dark Curse.
The team member begins to raise his weapon, suddenly more concerned than before.
Mercenary: ...What the hell is that supposed to me? Is this some horror movie shit? Is shit about to go down? These fucking mannequins are creeping me out man.
Talon: You and your team can go. You’ve done what I needed you to do. Your payment will be wired to you this evening.
Without hesitation the mercenary leaves to collect the rest of his team, leaving Talon alone with a stadium full of mannequins, one occupying every available seat in the building. Some bare clothing similar to former wrestlers from days long since past, and others wearing nothing at all. At the bottom of the arena, in the center, where the CRW ring once stood proud, now rest a massive pile of severed arms and legs belonging to other mannequins. While the occasional torso can be seen, there are no heads present.
The pile of scraps stands roughly 8 feet tall, with the top forming a clearly definable throne, all formed with the broken pieces of mannequins. ...and at the top of that throne sits a mysterious figure. Talon walks down the steps, all the way to the bottom of the pile before looking up at the person seated on the throne and speaking loudly, his voice echoing throughout the empty arena.
Talon: Corbin! I’ve come to take back my building!
Silence fills the air for several moments before Leon Corbin’s voice calls back from the shadows of the throne.
Leon Corbin: SILENCE!!!! SILENCE!!!!
Leon’s arms emerge from the shadows, waving as if to quiet down a roaring crowd. Talon looks around, before returning his attention to Corbin.
Corbin: Mister…. Wilkinson…. I never thought I would see “you” again...
Talon: Leon, I have a proposition for you. Something you might like, in exchange for me and my men cleaning out this building.
Corbin: Well… let me see.. I SAID SILENCE!!!!!
Corbin rises from the throne, holding up a closed hand to a part of the mannequin audience.
Corbin: I shall hear him out, so not another word from ANY of you until I have made my decision! ...That goes for you especially Stephan! Now, Mister Wilkinson.. Continue, please?
Talon looks over his shoulder one last time, looking to be sure they are truly alone.
Talon: Leon, I am bringing Code Red back from the dead, but in order to do that I have to have my arena back in working order, and I can’t do that as long as you and your mannequins continue to squat here. I need you to leave.
Another long pause fills the arena as Talon looks at Leon as he looks around as if he is listening to the opinions of others in the room before breaking out into a maniacal laugh that echoes eerily through the entire building. The laughter lasts for several uncomfortable seconds before Leon collects himself and speaks.
Corbin: Leave? LEAVE?!? Turn these people out onto the streets? Have you gone mad, Mister Wilkinson? I could never see my friends cast out...
Leon gestures to the crowd, but his eyes never leave Talon’s face. His words slow through the last sentence, his brain processing the information. Talon maintains a stoic stare back, which piques Corbin’s interest, growing as Corbin realises what’s just been said. With a more inquisitive tone, Leon restarts his response...
Corbin: And what are you offering in return?
Talon: For one, a job here in Code Red. Where you belong… and…
Talon takes a deep breath and sighs before continuing….
Talon: A one time permission. Any time, any one… inside of… That.
Talon points up to the rafters where the original Cage and Container used for the first and only “Bee Cage” match still danlges above the arena floor.
Talon: The ONLY condition there is that a championship will never be defended inside that… “Bee Cage.”
At the utterance of the words “Bee Cage” Leon throws his hands over his mouth in befound amazement. His eyes grow wider and even more wild as he peers over his fingers, still covering his mouth. His eyes dart to the left and right, looking at his congregation of mannequins and simply nods his head “yes”
Talon extends a hand to shake with Leon, but stops himself midway through the gesture, deciding to instead just turn around and make his exit. As he walks up the steps towards the light that is still pouring in from the broken entrance doors, he says one last thing…
Talon: I need your mess cleaned up in a week. Clean up crew and repair teams are on the way. Oh… and welcome “home” Leon.
The scene opens inside of a New York office, a barely furnished one at that. We see the fancy dressed Rorey, cane in his right hand and coffee in his left, walking into his office. As he turns around, he sees an older gentleman sitting in his seat.
Rorey: Hold up. Excuse me, who are you and why are you sitting in my brand new seat!
The man doesn’t look impressed as Rorey’s plea about his chair falls on deaf ears.
: Listen kid I talk fast, I move fast, I work fast. So let’s speed up the pleasantries. I’m Michael Sterling and I’m here to finalize the contract details between you and Mr. Talon Wilkinson. Now if you don’t mind your office seems empty so I’m going to assume I can smoke here.
Not waiting for an actual answer to the question Mr. Sterling opens a gold cigarette case as he lights up an American Spirit. Rorey takes a sip of his coffee to buy him a second to comprehend the situation.
Rorey: Uh, sure? I don’t know the codes here. Wait, Mr. Wilkinson? We have a meeting today at….oh….now….wait…how did you get in here? I just bought this office for Code Red. I’m the only one with a key and...wait, what needs to be discussed? We’re set and ready right.
Mr. Sterling lets out a big puff of smoke as Rorey hands him his empty cup so that he may dab his ashes into. Rorey sits down behind his desk as Michael takes another drag before speaking.
Sterling: Set and ready?? For as big a fan of CRW as Mr. Wilkinson made you out to be you sure didn’t keep up with the times. Let me make a long story short. We’ve got the Under Armour arena back though to be honest it’s more like the Under the Weather arena. The last caretaker … well he may have kept the vagrants away but he did his own damage. Excess of 18 Million dollars. Now before you start renting out this office space know that the insurance covered most of the payments once we put a claim in. That’s going to let us renovate the stage and ringside area but the rest of the stadium will have to be cordoned off to the public if we want to meet your accelerated timeline.
Rorey: It’s only been three years, how the hell did it get that bad?
Sterling: You should be focused on what it’s going to be. Now Mr. Wilkinson had some recommendations on roster acquirements. Call it nostalgia. Call it a second chance but he wants contact to be made with these people.
Michael slides a piece of paper across to Rorey, who looks at the names quickly, some with more disgust than the others.
Rorey: Whoa, whoa. I know I explained to Mr. Wilkinson that to get Code Red back to where it once was, and to take it further, we’d need an influx of new names, current names, names we can brand and build a company on, and names like these aren’t that. I have the utmost respect for some of these names, and on second thought, a couple of these names could really do something for us going forward, but the majority of them, I’m not going out of my way to go get. If either Mr. Wilkinson or yourself Mr. Sterling, want to go out there and get these names, then be it. Myself, I have some names of my own I want to make contact with.
Sterling: Mr. Wilkinson doesn’t travel. But lucky for me he pays me too.
Mr. Sterling takes the last drag of his cigarette as he drops it into the empty coffee mug. He looks down at the watch on his hand and he taps the face of the watch.
Sterling: Anything else you needed to discuss? I’m starting to lose my reputation on working fast.
Rorey: Just need to get those titles out of the vault, dust them off, and we’re set to get a roster together.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Mr. Sterling reaches back into his inside pocket of his suit opens his gold cigarette case and lights up a fresh one.
Sterling: That’s not going to happen. Or better yet that can’t happen. Apex Championship? Melted down. I hear Terry Marvin has a hell of a room for his trophy. Primetime Championship? Lost in translation. As TJ learned you never check your championship. You always carry it on. And as for the Tag Team Championships we are in current legal litigation but it’s tied up in the appellate courts. Apparently a wrestling stipulation is legally binding and Kilroy Evans has a real hard on for a World Championship match in a company that up until you walked through the door was dead and gone. I’m afraid you are on your own as far as championships are concerned.
Rorey: Yeah...yeah, plus I want wrestlers who are hungry and fight for pride, or the mighty dollar, so we just have the World Title for now, when it’s appropriate.
Looking back down at his watch Mr. Sterling raises his eyebrows and smirks a little. He throws away his half lit cigarette into the coffee mug
Sterling: What do you know? I might be able to make my flight after all. Thanks for the coffee kid.
Rorey: No problem Mr. Sterling. Where does Mr. Wilkinson have you going now?
Sterling: On to the next task kid. You were my first. Now I got to see a man about some graves. Heard he’s turned into quite the salty bastard.
Michael Sterling quickly grabs up his suitcase and coat as he heads out the door. Before departing he stops at the door and turns over his shoulder.
Sterling: Word of advice kid. You want that key to matter. You better use the lock.
And with that Rorey is left alone in his office as Michael Sterling leaves a rush. Rorey stares at the door in a bit of shock at what happened as the scene fades to black.
The former wrestler turned sports mogul is in the middle of a conversation with his wife Aubrey about what would appear to be an endorsement deal through the gym for one of it's clients.
Talon: So I was thinking about going with someone like Alyssa Drew, she's done a lot of work since coming in and she has the family pedigree that really gets folks attention.
Aubrey: Alyssa's talented, but I've been impressed with what I've seen out of Courtney Leinart.
Talon: ...and what about this kid, Eric Weaver. I hear a lot of good things from the staff about his work ethic. I like rewarding that behavior.
Suddenly the conversation is cut off as a tap on the door breaks the train of thought. Almost simultaneously, Talon’s office phone rings.
Talon: Hello…...you just LET someone walk through the gym?…..I don’t care if he was in a suit…...did you get a name?
Talon hangs up the phone as a voice comes from behind the door, answering the question he just asked the front desk on the other end of the line.
: If you open the door, you will get that name and so much more.
Talon looks at Aubrey, telling her to stay back as he gets up and walks up to the door. He unbuttons and quickly rolls his sleeves up prepared for anything as; Aubrey quickly palms a paperweight hiding it behind her. He opens the door, where he sees a slender man, dressed in a three-piece, cream suit. The man holds a cane with a yellow stone on the top and holds a smile on his face. Over his shoulder is a black velvet satchel with something noticeably heavy within it.
: The name is Rorey, Mr. Wilkinson and I need to speak with you... privately.
Rorey leans in a bit getting a looking into the office. He smiles at Aubrey who does not return the gesture. Talon looks back at her and then back at the man, who is still smiling.
Talon: First you barge into my gym. Then you ask my wife and business partner to leave. You're 0-2 Mr. Rorey. So let me make this simple. She stays. You talk. FAST
Talon walks back towards his desk allowing Rorey to enter his office. He rolls his sleeves back down covering his tattoos and assuming his mogul role. Rorey quickly enters the room closing the door behind him. He turns back to face the Wilkinsons sits down in a chair across from Talon’s desk, placing the satchel down next to him. He wraps the strap around his foot as Talon stands across from Rorey.
Rorey: Just Rorey. No need for the Mr. But with all due respect sir, you are a hard man to reach. I've tried emailing you. I've tried calling your office. You're booked solid for the next six months. People have said I'm impatient. I prefer to say I'm tenacious in getting what I want.
Talon raises an eyebrow trying to decide which of the two Rorey falls under.
Talon: Okay? So why are you here?
Rorey: Because you’re a businessman and I have a opportunity that tugs at your heartstrings.
Talon remains standing, staring at Rorey, who fixes his combed hair.
Talon: Alright, so what’s in the bag?
Rorey: Oh sir! Mother always told me it's best to save the best for last. But every story needs it's origins. You see, I’m from Red Hook, Brooklyn. New York is in my blood. My mother was born to Wall Street, my father a professor from Africa. I found myself on the outside of many groups being a product of an interracial marriage. I mean, I was a light skinned kid with red hair. Not many people in Brooklyn knew what to call me let alone like me. But wrestling Mr. Wilkinson! There was ALWAYS wrestling. Mr. Wilkinson, I envy your athletic abilities because I learned quickly, I wasn’t near the athlete needed to be a wrestler.
Talon: The pitch kid. Get to it.
Rorey: I’m getting there sir. Now, you have proven to myself and others that you can put together some of the best wrestling the world has to offer and that despite other narratives, you are the best in the promotion business.
Talon let's out a sigh
Talon: Look, Rorey, I'm gonna cut you off here. I appreciate the effort, but after SCW’s closure, I’m done promoting and owning wrestling companies and I’m not interested in starting from scratch again.
Talon gets up from his chair and begins to put his hand out to show Rorey the door
Rorey: Mr. Wilkinson, who said anything about starting from scratch. Sir, as I said, I’m a native New Yorker, and for me, there’s only one company that I’ll ever consider being the best, and that’s Code Red Wrestling. I’m here to help you reopen CRW, restore it to its former glory and take it further than even you imagined when you opened it.
Talon rolls his eyes having heard this all before.
Talon: Look kid. I've heard that before too. Since the day CRW closed all I've had is people pitching me to re open it. I've had offers to sell, I've had investors who wanted me to restart, It's been awhile since I've heard this pitch but TRUST me I have heard this pitch. And I'm not interested.
Rorey: Sir you have to let me finish my pitch. I am NOT like anyone else and I can prove it!
Aubrey steps up towards Talon and puts her hand on his shoulder.
Aubrey: Sorry Rorey, but you heard him, he isn’t interested.
She turns towards Talon as she continues to address Rorey.
Aubrey: Besides, we have a future to think about and putting more money into a company, Code Red Wrestling or any other, is something we shouldn’t be doing.
Talon looks at his wife, nods, and then looks back at Rorey.
Talon: I've made my piece with Code Red closing. Maybe it's time the rest of the world did too.
Rorey: Oh, no sir! I have a plan that I think you will find very financially responsible, with a low risk and a high ceiling, the sky is the limit in fact if you look at this propo - ...
Aubrey: I think my husband was clear with you Mr. Rorey
Rorey cuts Aubrey off, looking past her and only at Talon.
Rorey: I’d also foot a portion of the bill towards the shows sir. It's like noth --
Frustrated, Aubrey interjects again.
Aubrey: Rorey now I am being clear with you. This pitch is over.
As Aubrey crosses the desk to put herself between Rorey and Talon, Rorey nervously gets up, taking the strap of his bag around his leg. He places the bag onto the desk, a small thud results from the bag.
Rorey: Now the pitch is over. Take a look in that bag and if you want to still say no, then I'll be on my way. Thank you for your time Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson.
Talon opens up the bag, looking into it as his eye’s light up. He reaches in as he pulls out the CRW World Heavyweight Championship. Rorey looks at the joyful ex-wrestler, reunited with the world championship that he felt he had lost. Talon's hands run over the nameplate that is fitted on the world championship his fingers feel the grooves where "Diego de la Vega" is etched. His hand leaves the nameplate and clenches into a fist as he puts it against his mouth.
Talon: I've had men pitch me CRW before. I've even had men bring in their world championship idea whether it was original or a fake they wanted to pass of as the real deal. But they always had it wrong. They always brought it in clean, shiny, and I always knew that wasn't MY belt. But this ... I can see the history of CRW in it. The dents where people used it as a weapon. The rust of our last champion letting it rot. THIS is the real thing.
Aubrey is taken aback at the sudden fragility that Talon is showing but Rorey is smiling ear to ear. He know's he has him.
Talon: I'm in.
Aubrey: Talon!
Talon looks back at Aubrey and just shakes his head "no" at her before looking back to Rorey.
Talon: Rorey what do you need from me?
Rorey: First and foremost ... we need a venue ...
Rorey smiles and begins laying out his plan as we fade out.
Inside the large and now run down sports complex once known as the Under Armour Arena, columns of light make their way in through holes in the 20,000 seat venue that was at one time the most state of the art in the United States. Water drips in various places, leaving the air hot and humid, condensation and a light fog form on the walls and hover just off of the concrete floors in the concourses. Seats are broken and overturned in the aisles, and there is an obvious lack of electricity. The only thing missing is debris and litter. No over turned trash cans, no graffiti. The camera focuses in on a row of turnstops, behind them a set of double doors that keeps the general public out of the facility. Faint counting can be made out from behind the doors, when suddenly they fly open, coming loose from the hinges as sunlight floods the area and an 8 man assault team pour into the entrance fully equipped with body armor, tactical gear, and CQB ready rifles. The group clears the area as a 9th member of the cadre walks through the entrance, his face hidden by the light angles, but the silhouette clearly being that of CRW Founder, Talon Wilkinson.
The team move through the arena, their rifle mounted flashlights cutting through the foggy air of the arena to create an eerie effect. Talon walks behind the teams formation as it clears the route for him to maneuver through the concourse. Eventually Talon reaches the stairs that lead down into the lower level of the arena’s seating area. He looks around as one of the tac-team members removes his helmet and checks out the view.
Mercenary: Jesus H. Christ, what kind of freak show is this?
Stepping past the team member, Talon simple mutters a simple phrase as he continues to look around.
Talon: ...The Dark Curse.
The team member begins to raise his weapon, suddenly more concerned than before.
Mercenary: ...What the hell is that supposed to me? Is this some horror movie shit? Is shit about to go down? These fucking mannequins are creeping me out man.
Talon: You and your team can go. You’ve done what I needed you to do. Your payment will be wired to you this evening.
Without hesitation the mercenary leaves to collect the rest of his team, leaving Talon alone with a stadium full of mannequins, one occupying every available seat in the building. Some bare clothing similar to former wrestlers from days long since past, and others wearing nothing at all. At the bottom of the arena, in the center, where the CRW ring once stood proud, now rest a massive pile of severed arms and legs belonging to other mannequins. While the occasional torso can be seen, there are no heads present.
The pile of scraps stands roughly 8 feet tall, with the top forming a clearly definable throne, all formed with the broken pieces of mannequins. ...and at the top of that throne sits a mysterious figure. Talon walks down the steps, all the way to the bottom of the pile before looking up at the person seated on the throne and speaking loudly, his voice echoing throughout the empty arena.
Talon: Corbin! I’ve come to take back my building!
Silence fills the air for several moments before Leon Corbin’s voice calls back from the shadows of the throne.
Leon Corbin: SILENCE!!!! SILENCE!!!!
Leon’s arms emerge from the shadows, waving as if to quiet down a roaring crowd. Talon looks around, before returning his attention to Corbin.
Corbin: Mister…. Wilkinson…. I never thought I would see “you” again...
Talon: Leon, I have a proposition for you. Something you might like, in exchange for me and my men cleaning out this building.
Corbin: Well… let me see.. I SAID SILENCE!!!!!
Corbin rises from the throne, holding up a closed hand to a part of the mannequin audience.
Corbin: I shall hear him out, so not another word from ANY of you until I have made my decision! ...That goes for you especially Stephan! Now, Mister Wilkinson.. Continue, please?
Talon looks over his shoulder one last time, looking to be sure they are truly alone.
Talon: Leon, I am bringing Code Red back from the dead, but in order to do that I have to have my arena back in working order, and I can’t do that as long as you and your mannequins continue to squat here. I need you to leave.
Another long pause fills the arena as Talon looks at Leon as he looks around as if he is listening to the opinions of others in the room before breaking out into a maniacal laugh that echoes eerily through the entire building. The laughter lasts for several uncomfortable seconds before Leon collects himself and speaks.
Corbin: Leave? LEAVE?!? Turn these people out onto the streets? Have you gone mad, Mister Wilkinson? I could never see my friends cast out...
Leon gestures to the crowd, but his eyes never leave Talon’s face. His words slow through the last sentence, his brain processing the information. Talon maintains a stoic stare back, which piques Corbin’s interest, growing as Corbin realises what’s just been said. With a more inquisitive tone, Leon restarts his response...
Corbin: And what are you offering in return?
Talon: For one, a job here in Code Red. Where you belong… and…
Talon takes a deep breath and sighs before continuing….
Talon: A one time permission. Any time, any one… inside of… That.
Talon points up to the rafters where the original Cage and Container used for the first and only “Bee Cage” match still danlges above the arena floor.
Talon: The ONLY condition there is that a championship will never be defended inside that… “Bee Cage.”
At the utterance of the words “Bee Cage” Leon throws his hands over his mouth in befound amazement. His eyes grow wider and even more wild as he peers over his fingers, still covering his mouth. His eyes dart to the left and right, looking at his congregation of mannequins and simply nods his head “yes”
Talon extends a hand to shake with Leon, but stops himself midway through the gesture, deciding to instead just turn around and make his exit. As he walks up the steps towards the light that is still pouring in from the broken entrance doors, he says one last thing…
Talon: I need your mess cleaned up in a week. Clean up crew and repair teams are on the way. Oh… and welcome “home” Leon.
The scene opens inside of a New York office, a barely furnished one at that. We see the fancy dressed Rorey, cane in his right hand and coffee in his left, walking into his office. As he turns around, he sees an older gentleman sitting in his seat.
Rorey: Hold up. Excuse me, who are you and why are you sitting in my brand new seat!
The man doesn’t look impressed as Rorey’s plea about his chair falls on deaf ears.
: Listen kid I talk fast, I move fast, I work fast. So let’s speed up the pleasantries. I’m Michael Sterling and I’m here to finalize the contract details between you and Mr. Talon Wilkinson. Now if you don’t mind your office seems empty so I’m going to assume I can smoke here.
Not waiting for an actual answer to the question Mr. Sterling opens a gold cigarette case as he lights up an American Spirit. Rorey takes a sip of his coffee to buy him a second to comprehend the situation.
Rorey: Uh, sure? I don’t know the codes here. Wait, Mr. Wilkinson? We have a meeting today at….oh….now….wait…how did you get in here? I just bought this office for Code Red. I’m the only one with a key and...wait, what needs to be discussed? We’re set and ready right.
Mr. Sterling lets out a big puff of smoke as Rorey hands him his empty cup so that he may dab his ashes into. Rorey sits down behind his desk as Michael takes another drag before speaking.
Sterling: Set and ready?? For as big a fan of CRW as Mr. Wilkinson made you out to be you sure didn’t keep up with the times. Let me make a long story short. We’ve got the Under Armour arena back though to be honest it’s more like the Under the Weather arena. The last caretaker … well he may have kept the vagrants away but he did his own damage. Excess of 18 Million dollars. Now before you start renting out this office space know that the insurance covered most of the payments once we put a claim in. That’s going to let us renovate the stage and ringside area but the rest of the stadium will have to be cordoned off to the public if we want to meet your accelerated timeline.
Rorey: It’s only been three years, how the hell did it get that bad?
Sterling: You should be focused on what it’s going to be. Now Mr. Wilkinson had some recommendations on roster acquirements. Call it nostalgia. Call it a second chance but he wants contact to be made with these people.
Michael slides a piece of paper across to Rorey, who looks at the names quickly, some with more disgust than the others.
Rorey: Whoa, whoa. I know I explained to Mr. Wilkinson that to get Code Red back to where it once was, and to take it further, we’d need an influx of new names, current names, names we can brand and build a company on, and names like these aren’t that. I have the utmost respect for some of these names, and on second thought, a couple of these names could really do something for us going forward, but the majority of them, I’m not going out of my way to go get. If either Mr. Wilkinson or yourself Mr. Sterling, want to go out there and get these names, then be it. Myself, I have some names of my own I want to make contact with.
Sterling: Mr. Wilkinson doesn’t travel. But lucky for me he pays me too.
Mr. Sterling takes the last drag of his cigarette as he drops it into the empty coffee mug. He looks down at the watch on his hand and he taps the face of the watch.
Sterling: Anything else you needed to discuss? I’m starting to lose my reputation on working fast.
Rorey: Just need to get those titles out of the vault, dust them off, and we’re set to get a roster together.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Mr. Sterling reaches back into his inside pocket of his suit opens his gold cigarette case and lights up a fresh one.
Sterling: That’s not going to happen. Or better yet that can’t happen. Apex Championship? Melted down. I hear Terry Marvin has a hell of a room for his trophy. Primetime Championship? Lost in translation. As TJ learned you never check your championship. You always carry it on. And as for the Tag Team Championships we are in current legal litigation but it’s tied up in the appellate courts. Apparently a wrestling stipulation is legally binding and Kilroy Evans has a real hard on for a World Championship match in a company that up until you walked through the door was dead and gone. I’m afraid you are on your own as far as championships are concerned.
Rorey: Yeah...yeah, plus I want wrestlers who are hungry and fight for pride, or the mighty dollar, so we just have the World Title for now, when it’s appropriate.
Looking back down at his watch Mr. Sterling raises his eyebrows and smirks a little. He throws away his half lit cigarette into the coffee mug
Sterling: What do you know? I might be able to make my flight after all. Thanks for the coffee kid.
Rorey: No problem Mr. Sterling. Where does Mr. Wilkinson have you going now?
Sterling: On to the next task kid. You were my first. Now I got to see a man about some graves. Heard he’s turned into quite the salty bastard.
Michael Sterling quickly grabs up his suitcase and coat as he heads out the door. Before departing he stops at the door and turns over his shoulder.
Sterling: Word of advice kid. You want that key to matter. You better use the lock.
And with that Rorey is left alone in his office as Michael Sterling leaves a rush. Rorey stares at the door in a bit of shock at what happened as the scene fades to black.