Post by Carr on Jul 24, 2012 22:59:32 GMT -5
The scene opens on a dark dreary windy Seattle street. A pretty young woman walks down the sidewalk clutching her purse close beneath her arm. Her lovely blue eyes are locked on the ground a few steps ahead of her as she begrudgingly makes her way through what looks like a bad part of town. Although from the looks of the decrepit and abandoned buildings dawning over lapping graffiti tags it doesn’t seem as if this area has ever known much if anything about being the good part of Washington. She is so focused on her destination she passes by a group of young men smoking something out of a broken light bulb beneath a stoop taking no notice of them at all, though one of them takes notice of her and that’s all it takes. One shark leads the feeding frenzy. As she soldiers on, leaving the inhabited stoop behind her the four rough looking young men get up and begin to follow her casting their light bulb pipe aside shattering it on the sidewalk… they won’t need it for fun for the next little while. One whistles at her and grabs his crotch as the other three giggle and encourage him with grotesque obscene gestures. She hears them coming, keeping her eyes off them trying to ignore them and wishing them simply to leave her alone and go away. They begin to gain on her and she speeds up her pace – they follow suit closing in behind her. She turns towards them and sees them making more crude gestures towards her. She turns and begins to run away – again the crew of four follows close behind, one catches up to her and grabs a handful of her hair, two more grab her arms and turn her around so the fourth can punch her in the face to stifle her attempts at screaming for help. The boys look around, being no one around to see they drag her down an alley between an abandoned store and a run down gym. They throw the poor woman against a dumpster and three swoop in on her like vultures, ripping at her cloths, holding her hands down and hitting her to keep her quiet. One begins undoing his pants and suddenly we hear a gravely, disdain filled voice coming from a short distance away in the darkness.
Carr- Gentlemen… and believe me, I use that fucking term very loosely right now… I have a motto – I’ll never hit a lady… but I will beat down a bitch.
Three of them stay holding her down as the one undoing his pants refastens his jeans button and belt. He turns around and looks down the alley, seeing no silhouette to mark a person. Suddenly, right beside him – there is a spark, he jumps at first. His fists clench and he looks ready for a fight until the lighter ignites and he turns face to sternum with seven foot two inches of GWE’s Body Bagging Toe Tagging Sick Ass Motherfucker Scott Carr, lighting a joint in the alley behind the gym.
Carr- Eh - What’s up, Cock? You got your little digits all balled up like you want to scrap… well I’m down… but when I’m done… you won’t be getting back up. So, Let the lady go and spend your nights in your own beds alone with dry dicks… or fuck around… and you’ll all spend time in the ER.
Punk- Fuck You!
Carr-Well aren’t we randy? The attempted rape of an innocent, attractive woman isn’t enough for you? You want some of me too? I’m flattered, really I am cupcake… but no, thanks… I was in Prison for two years and I avoided the Man on Man sessions there too… so since all the niceties are out of the fucking way how about you LET HER GO NOW!
Punk- You keep her there! He can’t take all of us!
Carr inhales deeply off his joint; his red contact covered eyes trace their way over all four of the young men as he steps into the light – and the bravado and brazenness of the hooligan standing before him fades away as he realizes that perhaps he spoke too soon. Carr exhales directly into the punk’s face.
Carr- I wouldn’t be so cock sure – cocksucker.
Punk- FUCK YOU!
Carr-I feel like we keep having the same part of this conversation over and over again… you tell me to fuck off; I insult the respectability out of you for being an inbred rapist piece of crack head dog shit that I wouldn’t spare a half cup of my own piss for - to put out a blazing fire – then I end up having tell you’re Home Girls over there – LET HER THE FUCK GO! Only thing is dude, this time I’m adding… THIS IS YOUR LAST FUCKING CHANCE! Next time I say it… only her and I are walking out of here without a paramedics help.
Punk- Don’t let her go guys! We can fuck this piece of shit up and then fuck her!
Carr inhales hard off the joint, the cherry glows bright inferno red again and then snuffs it out in the punk’s eye – the junkie screams and staggers back. Carr kicks him as hard in the chest as he can and the junkie slams into the brick wall behind him. Carr sends another big boot to connect with the man’s face – smashing his skull into the brick wall as he shatters the cartilage in the punk’s nose as we as rendering him unconscious. The three holding down the woman let her go to attack Carr. She gets up and gathers herself, huddling close to the dumpster as the first makes his way to Carr only to get grabbed by the throat with both hands and thrown straight up and over Carr so he lands from what must be close to ten feet in the air, flat on his face. The other two stop dead in their tracks as Carr glares down at their freshly fallen friend – hoisting his big black foundry boot off the pavement so he can stomp on and shatter the man’s ankle. They’ve had enough of what they’re seeing and the last two rush Carr, thinking their numbers will help though Carr throws out his arms and lays into the next two with decapitating cloths lines, taking both them and him straight to the ground. Carr gets back up to a knee and dishes out a series of rights and lefts alternating back and forth between them before he gets up and issues two vicious stomps – one to one man’s sternum. From which we hear a sickening snapping sound, the other is a stomp to the other man’s jaw, which visibly breaks it. Carr turns around and grabs the one he threw over his head by the hair and the back of his belt as he attempts to push himself to all fours; he looks at the frightened woman and forcefully roars.
Carr- MOVE LADY!
She does, getting out of the way just in time to avoid the young hoodlum being thrown head first into the side of the dumpster so hard that the full dumpster moves for several feet and he appears as if he’s going nowhere. We see Carr fishing in his pocket and pull something out – through the darkness we hear some clicking, then we see what appears to be the extended razor blade of an exacto knife glimmering in the sparse beam of moonlight that illuminates the drowsy Detroit winter night. Carr looks at her as she cowers away from him not knowing what to expect from this animal. Carr turns his attention back towards the only one of the punks in motion now, which is the one holding his eye, crawling out of the alley on all fours – in a vain attempt to avoid any more abuse at the hands of this monster stalking him.
Carr- Where exactly the fuck is it you think you are going, bitch? I thought you said you wanted to fuck me – I thought I’d be nice and at least give you my name before you left. It’s Carr, and I’m going to hurt you JUST BECAUSE I CAN!
Punk- No man, No more! No!
Carr- How come no doesn’t mean no” when she said it, fuck wad? You explain to me why I should show you ANY mercy at all when you were about to show her FUCKING NONE!
Carr walks up to the young man and kicks him in the ribs hard enough to make him roll onto his back. Carr straddles the young man’s chest – pinning his arms down with his knees. Carr holds the deadly sharp point near the young man’s unburned eye.
Carr- You’ll remember this night for the rest of your life… because everyone is going to know exactly what you tried to do…
Carr holds the man’s head down and the camera shows us the horrified look the woman has on her face as we hear the young man screaming in agony. The camera pans back to Carr as he stands up, blood dripping from the blade of the knife. Carr turns back towards the woman, pulling off his black GWE hoody – he holds it out for her. She reaches out for it seeing he’s only in a t-shirt she’s unsure at first.
Carr- Miss, they really fucked up your cloths… here… it’ll be big but it’s cover. Did they hurt you?
She shakes her head as she pulls the hoody on. Carr retracts the blade and puts the knife away – she takes comfort in the folds of his warm sweater, though she is still speechlessly scared at what she’s seeing… the camera pans down and we see the young man has “Rapist” carved into the flesh of his forehead. Carr reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet taking a twenty from it which he holds that out for her as well. She looks at the money oddly and he puts his wallet away, getting out his cell phone – he dials and begins to speak.
Carr- Yeah… I’m downtown, at the old Heavy Weight Gym… no it’s not abandoned anymore – I just bought it today. I need a cab, and there's a big tip if he moves his ass... like yesterday. Yes… good… he’s less than a block away? That is Excellent. Thank you.
Carr closes his phone and again offers the money to the woman. She appears to not know what to do. Carr folds the bill and stuffs it into the big front pocket of his hoody.
Carr- Fuck! Take it! Jesus Christ Lady, you WANT to hang around here? Get your ass out to the street - There is a cab on the way… just take your shit and go the fuck home! You don’t need to see any more violence tonight… do you?
She shakes her head and runs out of the alley, shortly after she breaks back into the illumination of the street lights we see a cab pull to a stop – she gets in and closes the door and the taxi drives off down the street and out of sight. Carr can be seen in the dim light, looking at the four men fallen around him at his feet. Carr walks towards the place we first took notice of him and he opens up a duffle bag, and that which we assume proves true as it is full of his training cloths, and luckily – one of his own “Army of Me” hoody. Carr pulls it on casually and zips up the bag again before he picks up his forsaken joint – which fortunately landed upon a snow-free card board box that lay near by. Carr rips off the blackened tip and ignites it again as he walks out of the alley onto the street – leaving all four men right where they are.
Carr- Don’t let any rats eat on you boys, eh? I’d hate for them to get food poisoning.
Carr walks down the sidewalk heading away from the mayhem. Moving quickly, it’s obvious he isn’t afraid of being caught – he is simply leaving the mass of sadistic carnage as far behind him as he can. Carr reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tin we’ve all become familiar with, he pulls a joint from it and lights the unfiltered end. He inhales and as he exhales we hear him say.
Carr- That stupid, stunned little limp prick nearly cost me a joint… fuck it… I just hope that lady is going to be alright. That Bitch had better learn how to take a fucking bus… god damn it all though – that made me feel alive… what is it with violence? Why is it that sooths me so? Why is it I can’t harbour peace in me like others in the world do? Well I suppose there is no Heaven without a Hell… I suppose there is no Ghandi without a Scott Carr. Everything has its equal in opposite. Everything must… only thing is… Sigmund, Wren and Leon ain’t equal to the match I want… it’s an excellent first step for me – it will be a fantastic way to move myself up in the company. I just hope these boys are able to Focus on the Danger, rather than become distracted by the pain. I hope Leon can keep his head in the game and off of the fact that if I throw him hard enough I may loosen his stool far better than the prunes that old cheesy foreskin eats for breakfast… I hope Wren Siverphoenix can focus on me… and what I plan to take from him… I plan to take more than just this as a stepping stone chance at the strap – I plan to remove his entire sense of security… I’ll rape him of his dignity, I’ll rape him of his safety while I’ll rape him of his championship title limelight and opportunity… and I’ll leave him cold, abused and feeling left humiliated… Just Because I Can! Leon, Wren Siverphoenix I have to move myself up in the rankings – I have to take this gift for making myself be noticed and make myself be noticed with a title! Sigmund, Wren and Leon are my avenue to that – Their dreams for a better spot in GWE are going to become mine. And I swear on everything unholy… if ANYONE interferes… I’ll beat them straight the fuck to the ground too!
Carr walks by a payphone that sits in front of a convenience store. He stops and takes a few steps back – he lifts the receiver and puts a quarter in. He dials just three digits and waits.
Carr- Yes, I just saw a gang fight down near Heavy Weight’s Gym… there was a group of guys – seriously… four crack heads just beat the life out of each other… it looked pretty bad they’ll need an ambulance. - Excuse me? Oh my name is… Tony Sanders... yes, thank you. Goodbye.
Carr hangs up the receiver and heads down the street again. He again inhales deeply off his joint – as he has been only hooting off of it as he spoke before. Carr exhales a thick cloud as several blocks away we begin to hear the distant wail of sirens. Carr continues to walk down the sidewalk otherwise unabated or phased.
Carr- Sigmund, Wren and Leon have but one shot at keeping me from from a dynamic entrance to GWE... and eventually getting that World title… and I can literally do ANYTHING I want to fucking take that chance so violently away from them. His one and only fucking hope through all this is to turn tail and run like a fucking coward… but I don’t think either of them is that sort of man… no, instead I’d think they will absorb and absolve his upcoming abuses respectively – and accept his losses like a fucking man… or… he’ll end up in a fucking wheelchair remembering the good old days when he could wipe his own ass – before his wife dumped him for someone with a dick that works. In any case… if either man thinks he’s going to defeat me now – if he thinks he’s willing to get more savage and brutal than someone who’s so quickly come to be known for his consistent and unstoppable savage brutality in so many companies world wide… then as far as I’m concerned… he’s welcome to keep feeding himself that lie – though it must feel as if he’s eating himself alive… knowing how inane his determination is going to prove to be… I am not going to fuck around with him – I am a No Sell Competitor – I Am the Body Bagging Toe Tagging Sickest Motherfucker in GWE! I AM Harder than Hardcore! And there should be held no doubt in any minds – I AM GOING TO BE THE WORLD CHAMPION! I can’t have it be any other way… with the pay per view coming up fast… I know my sites are going to be set a little lower - on the GWE title... this is my opportunity to break away from the rest of these mid-card ranking motherfucks and get closer to the main event race I know I should be involved in! I just hope Leon and Wren Siverphoenix are ready… but I also hope… no matter what they do… They remember that they need to Focus on the Danger… or they’ll never be prepared at all. I can do this… I have it in me, the violence I implement is exactly that which is going to take me to the top of GWE… my temper is what’s going to fuel my desire… my hatred is what’s going to destroy Leon's and Wren Siverphoenix’s Career!
Wren, Wren, Wren, Wren, Wren… I don’t what the hell has gotten into you bitch. I really sincerely don’t. There was a time when these tables we’ve set were turned, I was the negative force and you were the bright light. The white knight in a dark kingdom I helped create. But I suppose the old adage is true… no matter how much things change they will perpetually stay the same. You’ve never been able to muster enough manhood to defeat me in our torrid past… nor will you be able to compose yourself enough to beat me. The last time you and I faced on a Pay Per View called King of the Ring, you probably woke up to find yourself in a fucking hospital bed… this King of the Ring shall show you no notable difference! Good Or Bad, Wren… what you did on Overdrive was pure ugly to me. Like a little puppy that’s lost, you decided you had no hope or avenue to take rather than drenching the moral ground on which you stood with piss! I don’t even know who the fuck I’m looking at when I lay these pained eyes of mine upon you. I wonder if you can even look in a mirror anymore and recognize the Great man you once were… or is acting as “Un-Wren-ly” as you did, your way of attempting to define an unfocused vision of yourself? It won’t Wren, it can’t and no matter what you’re being told, it never ever will… take it from a man who knows… you’re going down a path that is hard to come back from. Taking that first step and every self-serving one to follow it seems easy, the worst part is it keeps getting easier and easier to forget your humanity and morals and leave behind the reverence inducing man you left husked in that Overdrive ring… it’s not unlike a drug. At first it seems freeing, liberating. But soon you’ll find your former self huddled in agony, wishing against all wishes, and hoping against all the fucking hope in the world that the life you’ve created for yourself will come to an end, falsifying aspirations of being able to mend your ways, better yourself again… but as soon as I saw you lay down on that canvas Wren, I knew right then and there that the man you were was dead… and for what you did after you stood back up, the man you’ve become is not FAR BEHIND HIM! Since I’m familiar with your situation, since I’ve been there and done it already… I feel safe in the conclusion that you’re not quite sure of who you were and who you’re becoming just now… you’re probably asking yourself countless silent questions… but the answers are coming Wren.
Please trust me when I say I’m there for you Wren. Because I am where you will be one day… I’m a man who has made his name doing terrible things to people and now, Violence and Brutality are all I’m recognized for and as much as it took me to new heights in this industry it has taken so much from me personally. I know of all my opponents you should most vividly recall out previous entanglements of savagery… well at least the parts I left your sad sorry ass conscious for anyhow. The point being however, that what I did to you, up until Overdrive, would have been worth an apology from me, for you. Now though I’m going to drag your carcass through every inch of that fucking Coventry Sky dome! Not because it’s going to make for a good show, not because it will help sell more tickets, not because it will boost Pay Per View Ratings… no Wren… I’M GOING TO DO IT - JUST BECAUSE I CAN! I’m going to etch another savage motherfucking beat down so it, like our previous conflicts forever scarring any reflection you have upon your career, as THREE TIMES you will have come against ONE MAN who PROVED BEYOND ALL DOUBT! That he was a better match, and a far better man than you could handle. So no matter if you do think being this sort of filthy cock sucker is going to improve your career or if you’ve had some ill gotten epiphany that jobbing to TII and taking a heel turn will somehow help you find your way. Regardless let me just give you a verbal impasse right here Wren, Taking that dive into innocent fans even to lays rights to an antagonistic fuck like me, is only going to find you your way into absolute and utter despair and suffering! There are things you simply DO Not DO in this sport, violently involving spectators is Commandment number FUCKING ONE! These people pay to have us show them entertainment through our athleticism. I mean, yeah we’re sure as fuck expected to bring them a show, but we’re not supposed to bring them a fight! I, unlike you apparently have a lot of respect for these fans because through my career I’ve only known them to be what pushes me along. Face or Heel, they are always what kept me Neutral. They are our medium that the mould is formed around to cast us all to our respective levels of stardom. Wren, you’ve put on blinder to guide you through this selfish-quest of yours… but if you assume that Playing bad will in any way tune you into the “Eye of the Tiger” track when I’m stomping your skull into the parking lot, and that will in any way shape or form cause you to have some Big “Rocky” Style Come Back, then listen to me and motherfucker listen fucking good at least while you’re ears aren’t yet ringing from massive head trauma – Wren… It Won’t.
You’re taking a chance on a fantasy… Face or Heel, it just seems to me that you have some issues, with regards being towards avoiding me kicking the unholy hell out of your sorry ass. Really it is sort of ironic if you think about it. Since up until now you’ve only known me as being ALL EVIL! I mean, when it comes to professional wrestling, I have not Raised Hell… to many, many men, including yourself Wren… I HAVE BEEN HELL! And though I may attempt to mend my ways… the devils inside me rage on, having long since nested in their routine and comfortable, practical surroundings. See, I’m still me Wren… I am still DBR, the very same man who time after time has redefined Hardcore for this industry as a whole! I am an Iconoclast I am a multiple time Hall of Fame Wrestler. I am everything that you will now never stand a chance of being. Just because you felt the need to have fucked up, you picked the wrong time to fuck with me. When I could have gone backstage after the show and shaken your hand, given you that aforementioned apology and extended a hand of friendship rather than flip a finger of loathing. It’s become quite clear to me, somewhere between my curiosities began being peaked at why you were running against the far side ropes from where I sat, and when I took you Head-On - LIKE A RUNAWAY TRUCK! That our conflicts are far from over and once again, because I never will dare say it will be the last; I will Have to SHOW YOU! SHOW THE WORLD and SHOW GWE! WHY THEY CALL ME HARDER THAN HARDCORE! Where a man like you breaks, I AM JUST BEGINNING! And Wren have fear cloud your heart because there is nothing Idol to my threat when I say I am either going to beat you With or Against EVERYTHING I CAN FIND BETWEEN THE MIDDLE OF THAT RING AND THE FURTHEST LENGTHS OF THAT PROPERTY LINE!
I mean, what I saw you do… laying down and taking a dry emotionless FUCK like some WHORE! And for WHAT! WHAT? To be someone else’s punk assed patsy bitch? Rather than a man you were so amazing to me for being, you’ve become a fucking prostitute… Jobbing yourself for an addiction to something you’ll never really have. So now Wren may your weary head hang low with the same self loathing and lost hopes that all Jobbers curse… All you did on Overdrive was make TII look good… now another pay per view races up upon us and your only going to make ME look good during my GWE Premiere! Wren… you once personified hope, now you want only to be left behind the human race a residual puss of your once infectious manor and idea. You’ve turned on what I know of you – You’ve turned on your fans and what they expect of you – You’ve turned on yourself and what you were so fortunate to be oh so painfully naturally to the rest of the so-called “Faces” in this industry. Though physically I may have been forced by genetics to look down on you Wren, hold no illusions that up until Overdrive, I sincerely did look up to you. You were everything I knew I would have a nearly impossible time convincing people I was… you were a worth while man… a role model, and despite our former career differences, speaking in terms of my iconoclast status and your mid-carder rankings… I can understand why you may have felt change was needed and necessary – but why like this? Why give up on everything that made you great? Fuck it… if I understood it I’d probably be more likely to pull a hack move like that myself. So go on with your “bad” self Wren… enjoy the ride it starts out on some pretty impressive highs, the thrills of being a cheating bastard, the glamour of carrying yourself as though no one else is worth your time. But never ever forget… it all started one night… flat on your fucking BACK! The Wren I knew, well to put it simply, he’d throw down in a toe to toe fight against a sick fuck like me as if there weren’t going to be a tomorrow… because you knew that if given a single chance I’d have made sure there wasn’t. Now, flying in the face of all that hardship you faced like all those evil and sadistic men like I was once before and will be again on King of the Ring – you forsake the real man you knew were to become the severe fraud you think you can be. Sincerely HOW DARE YOU!? I hold my methods in close terms of endearment however that was a commitment I made early on in my career… no one would believe a seven foot tall sociopathic style wrestler would ever been “good”… but you? You were always a different story… the fans identified with you immediately Wren. It was because you aren’t the biggest or most brutal man in that ring. It’s because in you – they saw themselves. They saw the man you so proudly were. A man who knew strife and failure just like them – they saw your emotion, they saw a man who never gave up even if the life was beaten from him he showed sheer determination… now, even I, someone who’s known you all to well for a lot of years, don’t know who the fuck you are, so perhaps Wren you can tell me how in the hell are the fans supposed to?
I mean what the FUCK are they thinking? They're two men deep in a match neither of them are going to win and for what? Do either of these men really gain anything from being the first on a long, long list of victims? No. I mean if I were Tila Tequila or Leon or whatever he's called... or that half dose of Wren Siverphoenix mixed with a double dose of dumb-fuck… I’d seriously be asking myself if perhaps my journeyman career here in GWE wasn’t just a tad bit FUCKED FROM THE START! Mind you… I’ve never been in their position – though there is a scarce amount of Nine Foot Two – Six hundred and Fifty pound sociopathic ex cons who were before and continue to be professional wrestlers... although I’ve heard all the clichés from people in their position… I already know every fucking detail about David and Goliath that people in this situation have dug up. Hell… I could probably tell the story better myself than half the idiots who’ve prattled out a nonsensical version to me. But who knows, right? Maybe these two will march their midget ass down to the ring and do what no one has done since my release from Prison... Maybe Tony Montana or Chris Gaines WILL be the man who can Pin me or make me Submit… maybe… and maybe Playboy's 2009 Playmate of the Year Ida Ljungqvist - Doesn’t have an ass I’d eat chocolate cherry cheese cake off of. Maybe Megan Fox doesn’t look like the sort of chick I’d like to take on a moustache ride, right? I mean these are all slim possibilities… but you can’t discount what someone may do… it’s the size of the fight in the dog not the dog in the fight… That logic is cute, and I'm sure it helps anyone who actually takes it to heart, sleep very soundly at night. But that logic does tend to get a little fuzzy when the Biggest Dog also brings the most Violent and Relentless Fight! So come on, lads... come on little Puppies, Bring it right the fuck on Bitches! Come catch your beating... it’s your time now for you both to try and Act like a Man… time to reinstitute the wavering waning traditions - OR FUCK TRADITION! I wasn’t raised to respect my elders… I was raised to respect my betters… and to respect those who were intelligent enough to do the same and respect me. As it stands, boys… your respect can be damned. I don’t care about you – I’m sure you have a family somewhere that loves each of you very dearly… so tell them not to watch GWE’s next broadcast… tell them to just meet your carcass at the morgue when Carr is done ripping you two into tiny fucking pieces! Tell them to kiss away and bid adieu any hopes or aspirations for a happily ever after with you in it. You signed the sanction contract Motherfuckers… so you’ve already signed up for your own homicides - you’ve already inked your own career suicides. Will it be a Carr Crash, Carr Wreck, Carr Jack, Head-on, or Carr Bomb? How will it end for you after you collide with the Custom Carr? Only I know that… though the simple fact that this match will end badly for you two in the name of my goals was something you already decided to sign your life away on. You’ve already decided that the worst day in your fragile, hereunto wasted fucking lives will take place as soon as the show opens in a Hardcore Match that will leave both of you a sorrowful fucking mess. I'm on my way to the Key Arena in Seattle, Washington, lads... I hope you're ready for it... I hope you both... Focus... on the... Danger.
Carr’s massive calloused hand reaches out and crushes the camera lens – sending the scene to static before it fades to black. hand reaches out and crushes the camera lens – sending the scene to static before it fades to black.
Carr- Gentlemen… and believe me, I use that fucking term very loosely right now… I have a motto – I’ll never hit a lady… but I will beat down a bitch.
Three of them stay holding her down as the one undoing his pants refastens his jeans button and belt. He turns around and looks down the alley, seeing no silhouette to mark a person. Suddenly, right beside him – there is a spark, he jumps at first. His fists clench and he looks ready for a fight until the lighter ignites and he turns face to sternum with seven foot two inches of GWE’s Body Bagging Toe Tagging Sick Ass Motherfucker Scott Carr, lighting a joint in the alley behind the gym.
Carr- Eh - What’s up, Cock? You got your little digits all balled up like you want to scrap… well I’m down… but when I’m done… you won’t be getting back up. So, Let the lady go and spend your nights in your own beds alone with dry dicks… or fuck around… and you’ll all spend time in the ER.
Punk- Fuck You!
Carr-Well aren’t we randy? The attempted rape of an innocent, attractive woman isn’t enough for you? You want some of me too? I’m flattered, really I am cupcake… but no, thanks… I was in Prison for two years and I avoided the Man on Man sessions there too… so since all the niceties are out of the fucking way how about you LET HER GO NOW!
Punk- You keep her there! He can’t take all of us!
Carr inhales deeply off his joint; his red contact covered eyes trace their way over all four of the young men as he steps into the light – and the bravado and brazenness of the hooligan standing before him fades away as he realizes that perhaps he spoke too soon. Carr exhales directly into the punk’s face.
Carr- I wouldn’t be so cock sure – cocksucker.
Punk- FUCK YOU!
Carr-I feel like we keep having the same part of this conversation over and over again… you tell me to fuck off; I insult the respectability out of you for being an inbred rapist piece of crack head dog shit that I wouldn’t spare a half cup of my own piss for - to put out a blazing fire – then I end up having tell you’re Home Girls over there – LET HER THE FUCK GO! Only thing is dude, this time I’m adding… THIS IS YOUR LAST FUCKING CHANCE! Next time I say it… only her and I are walking out of here without a paramedics help.
Punk- Don’t let her go guys! We can fuck this piece of shit up and then fuck her!
Carr inhales hard off the joint, the cherry glows bright inferno red again and then snuffs it out in the punk’s eye – the junkie screams and staggers back. Carr kicks him as hard in the chest as he can and the junkie slams into the brick wall behind him. Carr sends another big boot to connect with the man’s face – smashing his skull into the brick wall as he shatters the cartilage in the punk’s nose as we as rendering him unconscious. The three holding down the woman let her go to attack Carr. She gets up and gathers herself, huddling close to the dumpster as the first makes his way to Carr only to get grabbed by the throat with both hands and thrown straight up and over Carr so he lands from what must be close to ten feet in the air, flat on his face. The other two stop dead in their tracks as Carr glares down at their freshly fallen friend – hoisting his big black foundry boot off the pavement so he can stomp on and shatter the man’s ankle. They’ve had enough of what they’re seeing and the last two rush Carr, thinking their numbers will help though Carr throws out his arms and lays into the next two with decapitating cloths lines, taking both them and him straight to the ground. Carr gets back up to a knee and dishes out a series of rights and lefts alternating back and forth between them before he gets up and issues two vicious stomps – one to one man’s sternum. From which we hear a sickening snapping sound, the other is a stomp to the other man’s jaw, which visibly breaks it. Carr turns around and grabs the one he threw over his head by the hair and the back of his belt as he attempts to push himself to all fours; he looks at the frightened woman and forcefully roars.
Carr- MOVE LADY!
She does, getting out of the way just in time to avoid the young hoodlum being thrown head first into the side of the dumpster so hard that the full dumpster moves for several feet and he appears as if he’s going nowhere. We see Carr fishing in his pocket and pull something out – through the darkness we hear some clicking, then we see what appears to be the extended razor blade of an exacto knife glimmering in the sparse beam of moonlight that illuminates the drowsy Detroit winter night. Carr looks at her as she cowers away from him not knowing what to expect from this animal. Carr turns his attention back towards the only one of the punks in motion now, which is the one holding his eye, crawling out of the alley on all fours – in a vain attempt to avoid any more abuse at the hands of this monster stalking him.
Carr- Where exactly the fuck is it you think you are going, bitch? I thought you said you wanted to fuck me – I thought I’d be nice and at least give you my name before you left. It’s Carr, and I’m going to hurt you JUST BECAUSE I CAN!
Punk- No man, No more! No!
Carr- How come no doesn’t mean no” when she said it, fuck wad? You explain to me why I should show you ANY mercy at all when you were about to show her FUCKING NONE!
Carr walks up to the young man and kicks him in the ribs hard enough to make him roll onto his back. Carr straddles the young man’s chest – pinning his arms down with his knees. Carr holds the deadly sharp point near the young man’s unburned eye.
Carr- You’ll remember this night for the rest of your life… because everyone is going to know exactly what you tried to do…
Carr holds the man’s head down and the camera shows us the horrified look the woman has on her face as we hear the young man screaming in agony. The camera pans back to Carr as he stands up, blood dripping from the blade of the knife. Carr turns back towards the woman, pulling off his black GWE hoody – he holds it out for her. She reaches out for it seeing he’s only in a t-shirt she’s unsure at first.
Carr- Miss, they really fucked up your cloths… here… it’ll be big but it’s cover. Did they hurt you?
She shakes her head as she pulls the hoody on. Carr retracts the blade and puts the knife away – she takes comfort in the folds of his warm sweater, though she is still speechlessly scared at what she’s seeing… the camera pans down and we see the young man has “Rapist” carved into the flesh of his forehead. Carr reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet taking a twenty from it which he holds that out for her as well. She looks at the money oddly and he puts his wallet away, getting out his cell phone – he dials and begins to speak.
Carr- Yeah… I’m downtown, at the old Heavy Weight Gym… no it’s not abandoned anymore – I just bought it today. I need a cab, and there's a big tip if he moves his ass... like yesterday. Yes… good… he’s less than a block away? That is Excellent. Thank you.
Carr closes his phone and again offers the money to the woman. She appears to not know what to do. Carr folds the bill and stuffs it into the big front pocket of his hoody.
Carr- Fuck! Take it! Jesus Christ Lady, you WANT to hang around here? Get your ass out to the street - There is a cab on the way… just take your shit and go the fuck home! You don’t need to see any more violence tonight… do you?
She shakes her head and runs out of the alley, shortly after she breaks back into the illumination of the street lights we see a cab pull to a stop – she gets in and closes the door and the taxi drives off down the street and out of sight. Carr can be seen in the dim light, looking at the four men fallen around him at his feet. Carr walks towards the place we first took notice of him and he opens up a duffle bag, and that which we assume proves true as it is full of his training cloths, and luckily – one of his own “Army of Me” hoody. Carr pulls it on casually and zips up the bag again before he picks up his forsaken joint – which fortunately landed upon a snow-free card board box that lay near by. Carr rips off the blackened tip and ignites it again as he walks out of the alley onto the street – leaving all four men right where they are.
Carr- Don’t let any rats eat on you boys, eh? I’d hate for them to get food poisoning.
Carr walks down the sidewalk heading away from the mayhem. Moving quickly, it’s obvious he isn’t afraid of being caught – he is simply leaving the mass of sadistic carnage as far behind him as he can. Carr reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tin we’ve all become familiar with, he pulls a joint from it and lights the unfiltered end. He inhales and as he exhales we hear him say.
Carr- That stupid, stunned little limp prick nearly cost me a joint… fuck it… I just hope that lady is going to be alright. That Bitch had better learn how to take a fucking bus… god damn it all though – that made me feel alive… what is it with violence? Why is it that sooths me so? Why is it I can’t harbour peace in me like others in the world do? Well I suppose there is no Heaven without a Hell… I suppose there is no Ghandi without a Scott Carr. Everything has its equal in opposite. Everything must… only thing is… Sigmund, Wren and Leon ain’t equal to the match I want… it’s an excellent first step for me – it will be a fantastic way to move myself up in the company. I just hope these boys are able to Focus on the Danger, rather than become distracted by the pain. I hope Leon can keep his head in the game and off of the fact that if I throw him hard enough I may loosen his stool far better than the prunes that old cheesy foreskin eats for breakfast… I hope Wren Siverphoenix can focus on me… and what I plan to take from him… I plan to take more than just this as a stepping stone chance at the strap – I plan to remove his entire sense of security… I’ll rape him of his dignity, I’ll rape him of his safety while I’ll rape him of his championship title limelight and opportunity… and I’ll leave him cold, abused and feeling left humiliated… Just Because I Can! Leon, Wren Siverphoenix I have to move myself up in the rankings – I have to take this gift for making myself be noticed and make myself be noticed with a title! Sigmund, Wren and Leon are my avenue to that – Their dreams for a better spot in GWE are going to become mine. And I swear on everything unholy… if ANYONE interferes… I’ll beat them straight the fuck to the ground too!
Carr walks by a payphone that sits in front of a convenience store. He stops and takes a few steps back – he lifts the receiver and puts a quarter in. He dials just three digits and waits.
Carr- Yes, I just saw a gang fight down near Heavy Weight’s Gym… there was a group of guys – seriously… four crack heads just beat the life out of each other… it looked pretty bad they’ll need an ambulance. - Excuse me? Oh my name is… Tony Sanders... yes, thank you. Goodbye.
Carr hangs up the receiver and heads down the street again. He again inhales deeply off his joint – as he has been only hooting off of it as he spoke before. Carr exhales a thick cloud as several blocks away we begin to hear the distant wail of sirens. Carr continues to walk down the sidewalk otherwise unabated or phased.
Carr- Sigmund, Wren and Leon have but one shot at keeping me from from a dynamic entrance to GWE... and eventually getting that World title… and I can literally do ANYTHING I want to fucking take that chance so violently away from them. His one and only fucking hope through all this is to turn tail and run like a fucking coward… but I don’t think either of them is that sort of man… no, instead I’d think they will absorb and absolve his upcoming abuses respectively – and accept his losses like a fucking man… or… he’ll end up in a fucking wheelchair remembering the good old days when he could wipe his own ass – before his wife dumped him for someone with a dick that works. In any case… if either man thinks he’s going to defeat me now – if he thinks he’s willing to get more savage and brutal than someone who’s so quickly come to be known for his consistent and unstoppable savage brutality in so many companies world wide… then as far as I’m concerned… he’s welcome to keep feeding himself that lie – though it must feel as if he’s eating himself alive… knowing how inane his determination is going to prove to be… I am not going to fuck around with him – I am a No Sell Competitor – I Am the Body Bagging Toe Tagging Sickest Motherfucker in GWE! I AM Harder than Hardcore! And there should be held no doubt in any minds – I AM GOING TO BE THE WORLD CHAMPION! I can’t have it be any other way… with the pay per view coming up fast… I know my sites are going to be set a little lower - on the GWE title... this is my opportunity to break away from the rest of these mid-card ranking motherfucks and get closer to the main event race I know I should be involved in! I just hope Leon and Wren Siverphoenix are ready… but I also hope… no matter what they do… They remember that they need to Focus on the Danger… or they’ll never be prepared at all. I can do this… I have it in me, the violence I implement is exactly that which is going to take me to the top of GWE… my temper is what’s going to fuel my desire… my hatred is what’s going to destroy Leon's and Wren Siverphoenix’s Career!
Wren, Wren, Wren, Wren, Wren… I don’t what the hell has gotten into you bitch. I really sincerely don’t. There was a time when these tables we’ve set were turned, I was the negative force and you were the bright light. The white knight in a dark kingdom I helped create. But I suppose the old adage is true… no matter how much things change they will perpetually stay the same. You’ve never been able to muster enough manhood to defeat me in our torrid past… nor will you be able to compose yourself enough to beat me. The last time you and I faced on a Pay Per View called King of the Ring, you probably woke up to find yourself in a fucking hospital bed… this King of the Ring shall show you no notable difference! Good Or Bad, Wren… what you did on Overdrive was pure ugly to me. Like a little puppy that’s lost, you decided you had no hope or avenue to take rather than drenching the moral ground on which you stood with piss! I don’t even know who the fuck I’m looking at when I lay these pained eyes of mine upon you. I wonder if you can even look in a mirror anymore and recognize the Great man you once were… or is acting as “Un-Wren-ly” as you did, your way of attempting to define an unfocused vision of yourself? It won’t Wren, it can’t and no matter what you’re being told, it never ever will… take it from a man who knows… you’re going down a path that is hard to come back from. Taking that first step and every self-serving one to follow it seems easy, the worst part is it keeps getting easier and easier to forget your humanity and morals and leave behind the reverence inducing man you left husked in that Overdrive ring… it’s not unlike a drug. At first it seems freeing, liberating. But soon you’ll find your former self huddled in agony, wishing against all wishes, and hoping against all the fucking hope in the world that the life you’ve created for yourself will come to an end, falsifying aspirations of being able to mend your ways, better yourself again… but as soon as I saw you lay down on that canvas Wren, I knew right then and there that the man you were was dead… and for what you did after you stood back up, the man you’ve become is not FAR BEHIND HIM! Since I’m familiar with your situation, since I’ve been there and done it already… I feel safe in the conclusion that you’re not quite sure of who you were and who you’re becoming just now… you’re probably asking yourself countless silent questions… but the answers are coming Wren.
Please trust me when I say I’m there for you Wren. Because I am where you will be one day… I’m a man who has made his name doing terrible things to people and now, Violence and Brutality are all I’m recognized for and as much as it took me to new heights in this industry it has taken so much from me personally. I know of all my opponents you should most vividly recall out previous entanglements of savagery… well at least the parts I left your sad sorry ass conscious for anyhow. The point being however, that what I did to you, up until Overdrive, would have been worth an apology from me, for you. Now though I’m going to drag your carcass through every inch of that fucking Coventry Sky dome! Not because it’s going to make for a good show, not because it will help sell more tickets, not because it will boost Pay Per View Ratings… no Wren… I’M GOING TO DO IT - JUST BECAUSE I CAN! I’m going to etch another savage motherfucking beat down so it, like our previous conflicts forever scarring any reflection you have upon your career, as THREE TIMES you will have come against ONE MAN who PROVED BEYOND ALL DOUBT! That he was a better match, and a far better man than you could handle. So no matter if you do think being this sort of filthy cock sucker is going to improve your career or if you’ve had some ill gotten epiphany that jobbing to TII and taking a heel turn will somehow help you find your way. Regardless let me just give you a verbal impasse right here Wren, Taking that dive into innocent fans even to lays rights to an antagonistic fuck like me, is only going to find you your way into absolute and utter despair and suffering! There are things you simply DO Not DO in this sport, violently involving spectators is Commandment number FUCKING ONE! These people pay to have us show them entertainment through our athleticism. I mean, yeah we’re sure as fuck expected to bring them a show, but we’re not supposed to bring them a fight! I, unlike you apparently have a lot of respect for these fans because through my career I’ve only known them to be what pushes me along. Face or Heel, they are always what kept me Neutral. They are our medium that the mould is formed around to cast us all to our respective levels of stardom. Wren, you’ve put on blinder to guide you through this selfish-quest of yours… but if you assume that Playing bad will in any way tune you into the “Eye of the Tiger” track when I’m stomping your skull into the parking lot, and that will in any way shape or form cause you to have some Big “Rocky” Style Come Back, then listen to me and motherfucker listen fucking good at least while you’re ears aren’t yet ringing from massive head trauma – Wren… It Won’t.
You’re taking a chance on a fantasy… Face or Heel, it just seems to me that you have some issues, with regards being towards avoiding me kicking the unholy hell out of your sorry ass. Really it is sort of ironic if you think about it. Since up until now you’ve only known me as being ALL EVIL! I mean, when it comes to professional wrestling, I have not Raised Hell… to many, many men, including yourself Wren… I HAVE BEEN HELL! And though I may attempt to mend my ways… the devils inside me rage on, having long since nested in their routine and comfortable, practical surroundings. See, I’m still me Wren… I am still DBR, the very same man who time after time has redefined Hardcore for this industry as a whole! I am an Iconoclast I am a multiple time Hall of Fame Wrestler. I am everything that you will now never stand a chance of being. Just because you felt the need to have fucked up, you picked the wrong time to fuck with me. When I could have gone backstage after the show and shaken your hand, given you that aforementioned apology and extended a hand of friendship rather than flip a finger of loathing. It’s become quite clear to me, somewhere between my curiosities began being peaked at why you were running against the far side ropes from where I sat, and when I took you Head-On - LIKE A RUNAWAY TRUCK! That our conflicts are far from over and once again, because I never will dare say it will be the last; I will Have to SHOW YOU! SHOW THE WORLD and SHOW GWE! WHY THEY CALL ME HARDER THAN HARDCORE! Where a man like you breaks, I AM JUST BEGINNING! And Wren have fear cloud your heart because there is nothing Idol to my threat when I say I am either going to beat you With or Against EVERYTHING I CAN FIND BETWEEN THE MIDDLE OF THAT RING AND THE FURTHEST LENGTHS OF THAT PROPERTY LINE!
I mean, what I saw you do… laying down and taking a dry emotionless FUCK like some WHORE! And for WHAT! WHAT? To be someone else’s punk assed patsy bitch? Rather than a man you were so amazing to me for being, you’ve become a fucking prostitute… Jobbing yourself for an addiction to something you’ll never really have. So now Wren may your weary head hang low with the same self loathing and lost hopes that all Jobbers curse… All you did on Overdrive was make TII look good… now another pay per view races up upon us and your only going to make ME look good during my GWE Premiere! Wren… you once personified hope, now you want only to be left behind the human race a residual puss of your once infectious manor and idea. You’ve turned on what I know of you – You’ve turned on your fans and what they expect of you – You’ve turned on yourself and what you were so fortunate to be oh so painfully naturally to the rest of the so-called “Faces” in this industry. Though physically I may have been forced by genetics to look down on you Wren, hold no illusions that up until Overdrive, I sincerely did look up to you. You were everything I knew I would have a nearly impossible time convincing people I was… you were a worth while man… a role model, and despite our former career differences, speaking in terms of my iconoclast status and your mid-carder rankings… I can understand why you may have felt change was needed and necessary – but why like this? Why give up on everything that made you great? Fuck it… if I understood it I’d probably be more likely to pull a hack move like that myself. So go on with your “bad” self Wren… enjoy the ride it starts out on some pretty impressive highs, the thrills of being a cheating bastard, the glamour of carrying yourself as though no one else is worth your time. But never ever forget… it all started one night… flat on your fucking BACK! The Wren I knew, well to put it simply, he’d throw down in a toe to toe fight against a sick fuck like me as if there weren’t going to be a tomorrow… because you knew that if given a single chance I’d have made sure there wasn’t. Now, flying in the face of all that hardship you faced like all those evil and sadistic men like I was once before and will be again on King of the Ring – you forsake the real man you knew were to become the severe fraud you think you can be. Sincerely HOW DARE YOU!? I hold my methods in close terms of endearment however that was a commitment I made early on in my career… no one would believe a seven foot tall sociopathic style wrestler would ever been “good”… but you? You were always a different story… the fans identified with you immediately Wren. It was because you aren’t the biggest or most brutal man in that ring. It’s because in you – they saw themselves. They saw the man you so proudly were. A man who knew strife and failure just like them – they saw your emotion, they saw a man who never gave up even if the life was beaten from him he showed sheer determination… now, even I, someone who’s known you all to well for a lot of years, don’t know who the fuck you are, so perhaps Wren you can tell me how in the hell are the fans supposed to?
I mean what the FUCK are they thinking? They're two men deep in a match neither of them are going to win and for what? Do either of these men really gain anything from being the first on a long, long list of victims? No. I mean if I were Tila Tequila or Leon or whatever he's called... or that half dose of Wren Siverphoenix mixed with a double dose of dumb-fuck… I’d seriously be asking myself if perhaps my journeyman career here in GWE wasn’t just a tad bit FUCKED FROM THE START! Mind you… I’ve never been in their position – though there is a scarce amount of Nine Foot Two – Six hundred and Fifty pound sociopathic ex cons who were before and continue to be professional wrestlers... although I’ve heard all the clichés from people in their position… I already know every fucking detail about David and Goliath that people in this situation have dug up. Hell… I could probably tell the story better myself than half the idiots who’ve prattled out a nonsensical version to me. But who knows, right? Maybe these two will march their midget ass down to the ring and do what no one has done since my release from Prison... Maybe Tony Montana or Chris Gaines WILL be the man who can Pin me or make me Submit… maybe… and maybe Playboy's 2009 Playmate of the Year Ida Ljungqvist - Doesn’t have an ass I’d eat chocolate cherry cheese cake off of. Maybe Megan Fox doesn’t look like the sort of chick I’d like to take on a moustache ride, right? I mean these are all slim possibilities… but you can’t discount what someone may do… it’s the size of the fight in the dog not the dog in the fight… That logic is cute, and I'm sure it helps anyone who actually takes it to heart, sleep very soundly at night. But that logic does tend to get a little fuzzy when the Biggest Dog also brings the most Violent and Relentless Fight! So come on, lads... come on little Puppies, Bring it right the fuck on Bitches! Come catch your beating... it’s your time now for you both to try and Act like a Man… time to reinstitute the wavering waning traditions - OR FUCK TRADITION! I wasn’t raised to respect my elders… I was raised to respect my betters… and to respect those who were intelligent enough to do the same and respect me. As it stands, boys… your respect can be damned. I don’t care about you – I’m sure you have a family somewhere that loves each of you very dearly… so tell them not to watch GWE’s next broadcast… tell them to just meet your carcass at the morgue when Carr is done ripping you two into tiny fucking pieces! Tell them to kiss away and bid adieu any hopes or aspirations for a happily ever after with you in it. You signed the sanction contract Motherfuckers… so you’ve already signed up for your own homicides - you’ve already inked your own career suicides. Will it be a Carr Crash, Carr Wreck, Carr Jack, Head-on, or Carr Bomb? How will it end for you after you collide with the Custom Carr? Only I know that… though the simple fact that this match will end badly for you two in the name of my goals was something you already decided to sign your life away on. You’ve already decided that the worst day in your fragile, hereunto wasted fucking lives will take place as soon as the show opens in a Hardcore Match that will leave both of you a sorrowful fucking mess. I'm on my way to the Key Arena in Seattle, Washington, lads... I hope you're ready for it... I hope you both... Focus... on the... Danger.
Carr’s massive calloused hand reaches out and crushes the camera lens – sending the scene to static before it fades to black. hand reaches out and crushes the camera lens – sending the scene to static before it fades to black.