Main Event

[Allura Desmonds]

Main Event
BAMF Championship Match
Tyler Cross (c) vs Johnny Reb

RP Limit: 2 Per Person
Deadline: 06/07/19 at 11:59pm eastern time
Grace Period: 06/09/19 at 11:59pm eastern time
Good Luck

[Tyler Cross]

{Off-camera}

{Tyler Cross sits in a chair with tears streaming down his face. He clutches his BAMF Championship in his left hand and his attire consists of a purple Armani suit, coupled with a purple and black striped tie and gleaming, shining, black shoes. In his other hand. The smell of alcohol permeates the air and he reaches forward for a liter bottle of vodka, pouring himself another large measure he quickly swallows it as his entire body shivers with the force of his tears. He leans forward picking up a Smith and Wesson .45 handgun. His hand is trembling as he reaches forward for the pistol, he flicks open the barrel of the gun and loads six silver bullets into the chamber. He ten closes the pistol and flicks the safety off, he cocks the gun and holds the barrel into his mouth. He mutters the words ‘I’m sorry’, the words slightly muffled due to the gun between his lips. He brings his forefinger to the firing mechanism as his entire body shakes, he closes his eyes and just as he is about to fire his final shot, he hears a knock at the door…}

Knock… Knock.

{He looks a little taken aback by the sudden interruption and as he looks towards the door he sees an envelope with ‘Tyler Cross’ smeared across it in red. As his eyesight focuses back while his tears dry up, it now appears his name is written in blood. He slowly removes the pistol from his mouth and places it on the table in front of him next to the vodka. He rubs both his eyes with the palms of his hands and sniffles. He stands up from his seat and moves toward the envelope. He opens the door and looks left and right yet no one can be seen. He shakes his head then closes the door. He carefully opens the envelope then drops to his knees as he removes the enclosed piece of paper. His grasp lowers and the piece of paper flutters to the ground beneath.}

{On the piece of paper is the traditional children’s game ‘hangman’. There is a gallows and noose and beneath it are two names. Both are five letters long.
----- -----.}
{Once composed from another bout of tears, Tyler stands to his feet and reaches into the inside pocket of his Purple Armani suit. He takes out his iPhone X, a packet of his preferred brand of cigarettes, Benson & Hedges and a Gold Zippo lighter. He places the cigarettes and lighter on the table in front of him. He exhales a weary sigh and composing himself for an address to his opponent at Assault this Friday, Johnny Reb and the entire NCW nation he then turns on the front camera of his iPhone and begins his tirade on his opponent.}

[On-camera]
‘Johnny Reb, you remind of a character from Deliverance, in other words, you’re about to be f*ckied! I have come too far to let a redneck upstart like you deprive me of reaching a year as champion. On your return here, you lost to Hex Girl, you’ve had a shot at the Eternal Championship based purely on your previous tenure and you failed, you lost, just like you’re going to lose against me this Friday. Sure you’ve beaten AJ Flare but then again, who hasn’t’?’

[Tyler hoists the BAMF Championship up onto his shoulder and in-shot of the camera.]

‘I’ve held this title for over 350 days, there have been many challengers and many pretenders, Pheonix Halliwell and Baazelbul to name but two and I’ve overcome every obstacle, every challenge, every task and every opponent placed in my way. Nobody has come close to taking this championship from me and you will be no different. I will use my body as a weapon, will use my fists and my feet to inflict untold pain on your very being. I have retired many of the men who have challenged me for this championship. I retired the previous longest reigning BAMF Champion in Eric Herrera and retired Fathi. I could just as easily retire your sorry redneck self from this business but I digress. This Championship needs a Champion worthy of holding such a prestigious belt and you, my friend, are far from prestigious. You are a backwards jackass, you’ve come straight out of some bible-bashing, racist prejudice area and think you’re the best in this business, don’t make me laugh!’

[Tyler reaches forward for his packet of Benson & Hedges cigarettes, he carefully peels open the foil of the packet, then opens the box, he rips off the covering of the 20 cigarettes and tosses the foil and covering in the bin nearby. He then removes one cigarette and places it between his lips, he salivates a little at the thought of the dirty, yet satisfying taste he is about to consume. He flicks open his Zippo lighter and clicks his fingers, striking the flint and causing a flame to exude from the top of his Gold lighter. The two meet and the flame dances its merry little jig as Tyler puffs on the cigarette. His house, his fingers and his nostrils now enveloped in the musky, rough cloud of smoke then flows from his mouth and from the cigarette. He takes another inhalation of the cigarette and blows smoke into the camera.]

‘Johnny Reb, you will be my eleventh title defense that I guarantee. I am not about to sacrifice almost a year’s graft, work, blood, sweat and tears to some upstart like you. Sure, you’ve won a few matches but you’ve never faced someone like me before. You’ve never faced The Extremist. As a redneck, you may see yourself as some sort of Religious, bigoted extremist but the kind of extremist I am, dictates how I wrestle. I will put my body through as much, if not more pain and suffering as I will inflict on you and will still stand tall and have my arm raised in victory, my championship handed to too and my name heralded out as victor once this match concludes. Johnny Reb, prepare for Judgement Day!’

[Tyler takes a drag of his cigarette and as he echoes these words smoke cascades from his lips.]

Time cascades…

Ticking clocks…

The coming…

The Champion…

[Tyler takes another two deep drags of his cigarette and as he is speaking the final two words he allows the smoke to fall freely from his lips…]

Tyler Cross!

[Fade to Black]

{Tyler looks back at the piece of paper with ------ ----- written on it beneath the Hangman’s gallows and noose. He picks up a pen and slowly writes in each letter.

T-Y-L-E-R C-R-O-S-S

[thenewcsa]

"Well I won't back down
No I won't back down
You can stand me up at the gates of Hell
But I won't back down"
-Tom Petty-

*The camera opens up on the interior of a hospital nestled somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. A small town by the name of Lexingtona off the beaten track from the Highway I-81. The interior is lit by humming yellowish florescent lighting the sounds of televisions in various open rooms fill the sad halls as nurses buzz to and fro. The sterile smell of the halls mixes with the flowers as they come into view as the camera pans around revealing Johnny Reb dressed in an old Confederate Officers hatt and a shirt bearing the confederate flag proudly. His torn jeans barely cover his cowboy boots and spurs as he approaches the doorway of a roomand leans on the door as a commotion uproars from within. Unseen the camera pans revealing an older man slowly rising out of a wheelchair turning to a rather annoyed looking nurse as he waves his cane in the air in frustration. The hospital gown he wears barely covering his backside as he gesticulates at her.*

Old Man: I can get up on my own, thank you Madam. I'm not so worthless as to be like these layabout and jackanapes!

Nurse: Now Mr. Jackson-

Old Man: Colonel! For the last time my name is Colonel William. Beauregard. Jackson. And don't you forget it you Jezebel!

*He leans back as he shakes his cane only to fall off his feet back onto the bed still shaking his cane in raging opposition to the nurse that quickly moves to pull his feet into the bed and under the covers.*

Nurse: Fine then... Colonel I'm just trying to do what the Doctors instructed.

Colonel: Bah! Doctors. Thieves is more like it. Stealin' the little time I have left on this old earth couped up in this cage with the rest of you Hens cluckin' on about this and that. Can't let an old man rest peaceably.

*Johnny just smiles and shakes his head walking away from the doorway and into the room carrying the flowers as he just puts his hand on his belt calling out to the old timer.*

J.R.: You keep gettin' ornery, old top and I'm gonna tell this nice lady to go ahead and put you down!

*The Nurse just beams a smile as the Colonel turns and scowls at Johnny. Johnny just tilts his hat to her and nods.*

J.R.: Ma'am.

*The Nurse puts her hands on her hips and then looks at the Colonel with an annoyed tone.*

Nurse: You try talking to him. I can't do a thing with him. I'll be back in when they're ready to take you for radiation.

*The woman turns to leave as the Colonel just waves her away annoyed. Johnny turns to watch her leave only to turn back to the Colonel and set the flowers on a nearby empty table.*

J.R.: You should be nicer to her.

Colonel: And you shouldn't fall for every sultry vixen that so much as bats those eyes at you.

*Johnny steps forward shrugging at the old man as he pulls up a nearby chair.*

J.R.: She was cute.

Colonel: So is a Grizzly but that don't stop you from shootin' one when it gets too close!

J.R.: Oh, cut it out, Colonel. Now, your just bein' ornery to be ornery.

Colonel: Oh hush! I'm old son, I have the right nay the responsibility to complain. Someone has to teach you youngins that.

*Johnny just smiles as he leans back resting his hands on his torn jeans looking at the old man with a serious look.*

J.R.: So, how they treatin' ya? Really?

Colonel: Oh it ain't that bad., boy. At least I got a nice view.

*Johnny rises from his seat peeking through the blinds in the window seeing of all things the cemetery across the street.*

J.R.: It's a graveyard. They tryin' to show ya the door, old timer?

Colonel: Show some respect, son. I taught you better then that! Do you know who's 'graveyard' that is, boy?!

*Johnny just turns his head and shakes it looking at him curiously.*

Colonel: That is the cemetery of my dearest ancestor, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson. That's his memorial statue on the hill. Least it's there till those damned Yankees tear it down!

*Johnny nods impressed looking out the window again*

J.R.: That a fact? Well, that's somethin'. I'm gonna have to make a visit then.

*Johnny turns back walking back to the chair talking as he pulls it around to sit again*

J.R.: I-uh-I got a match for a title this week, Colonel.

*The Colonel chuckles a bit and smiles tapping his cane along Johnny's leg*

Colonel: It's about time, son. I told you didn't I? Comin' back like you did. What title they got you goin' for. The eteral? The World? What is it, son? Speak up!

J.R.: The BAMF title.

Colonel: Bamf? Speak english son. What does Bamf mean?

J.R.: Bad Ass mother Fucker.

*The colonel raps his cane head on the top of Johnny's hat as Johnny starts to block it with his hand trying feebly to block the old man's sudden attack.*

Colonel: WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU BOUT CUSSIN'!?

*Johnny just waves his cane away as he protests*

J.R.: Ouch... stop... damn it, Colonel! That's what it's called!

*The colonel at length stops the assault reluctantly shaking his head.*

Colonel: Bamf title? What has this world come to. Only a damned Yankee would come up with an awful name like that. Still I'm sure you will give it a good reputation, my boy. Better then the horrid thing deserves.

J.R.: Thank you, sir.

*The Colonel lays back and smiles looking at him with an approving grin before putting his hand on one of Johnny's*

Colonel: Thank you for visitin', my boy. I know your busy.

J.R.: It's okay, Colonel. I wish i could be here more for ya.

Colonel: Don;t lie to me, son. I know it ain;t easy seein' me like this. Just know I'm proud of you. We're all rootin' for ya. Every true southern patriot loyal to the cause. You have always been, my boy, no matter what happens you know I'm proud of you. Right?

*Johnny just takes off his hat and nods in respect looking at him holding his hand and gripping it tightly*

J.R.: I know, Colonel. I know.

*The nurse walks in pushing an empty wheelchair again as she smiles at the old man.*

Nurse: Okay, Colonel, they are waiting for you.

*Johnny stands and the Colonel slowly begins to rise. Johnny offering his hand as he helps his mentor and former manager up to his feet gently guiding him to the wheelchair and helping him sit down. The Colonel looks up at him as he sets his feet in.*

Colonel: Don't you worry, my boy. I'm gonna beat this and you can do this. I know you are worried about me. But I'll be here waitin' when you bring me that belt.

*He says with a small wink at Johnny who just smiled and nodded in response stepping back as the Nurse smiled at the Colonel.*

Nurse: Are we ready?

Colonel: Yes, yes... Up and over, madam. Up and over. CHARGE MAGNOLIA!

*He waves his cane like a Saber as the Nurse rolls her eyes pushing him out of the room as Johnny stands there quietly his head down solemnly before putting his hat back on and looking at the camera sternly.*

J.R.: That man will never quit. And neither will I. Now, I don't know if you read history Tyler but allow me to explain to you where that man comes from. See there was this little thing that started in April of 1861 when a bunch of southern men got pissed off at a country that underestimated them. They attacked a fort named Sumter down in the carolinas and they took that fort. No, training. No formal experience they nailed a one two punch right in uncle Sam's bearded mug. So these good ol' boys these rednecks form an army and go to war with the US government. Seemed like suicide right? Well that's what they all thought too. So in July they had the first real skirmish little place called Bull Run not too far from where I am now. People thought that fight would be over just like that. One fight and the union would crush them. Hell, people even set up picnics to watch it. But you know what happened? We drove them back. Suddenly it wasn't a joke. It was war. And that man, the Colonel, he comes from the line of one of the greatest generals the Confederacy ever had. "Stonewall" Jackson got his name in that battle when he reinforced the garrison against a yankee assault. They said he stood there unmoving like a Stonewall and stopped them from gaining any ground. That is the man that William Jackson comes from! Now why did I give ya that little history lesson? this is the NC-dubya not the damned history channel right? Well I'll tell ya somethin', son you got a few days till you hit one year on that bad boy title of yers and you ain't makin' one more day on my watch. See ol' Johnny Reb he's gonna take a page right out of the old history books. Now, I know you a southern boy too but you ain't takin' one more gall dern step as champion till you face me. And that's the problem, Son, causeI'm yer stonewall now! I'm the guy you got to get through and I ain't backin' down for shit! I'm gonna fight till the last bone break, til the last breath is drawn. Til my heart gives out. Til I give up the ghost. The choir angelic sings. The fat lady. The curtain call. All that shit! I'm gonna fight until I can;t fight no more. Oh, son, you ain't just got ol' Johnny Reb revved up you got ol' Johnny Reb unchained. Live. uncensored and ready to beat your make up wearin' ass back to whatever drag queen bar you came from!

*Johnny froths at the mouth a bit as he looks at the camera sternly his eyes fixed on the prize as he continues*

J.R.: I mean honestly you mention deliverance to a good ol' boy like me and you think I'm the one that's gonna get tree stumped? Warren Beatty couldn't make it down that river, what hope do you think a make up wearin' fairy fly boy has of not gettin' fucked?! So yeah, you go ahead champ. Bring yer fuckin' A game! Cause I ain't gonna let you get so much as a word in when I feed you my fist straight down yer fuckin' throat. I'm gonna win that title too because in the end there ain't no Mofo in the world Badder then this pissed off Redneck. Is that what you wanted? To see me ready like this? On fire like this? You want me cussin' and spittin' and ready to kick your teeth in and walk a mile in my shitkickers with your caked on blood and shit on my boots? Is that what you want? Well guess what, congratu-mafuckin- lations you got it boy! But it's not like you think.

*Johnny stops and pulls on his shirt looking down at the confederate flag and pointing to it proudly unafraid unashamed of it as he looks into the camera.*

J.R.: Because, I ain't just doin' it for me. I'm doin' it for this. For this flag. For all the people that live under it afraid to say anything without being labeled backwoods or racist. I'm fightin' for all the bodies buried in that cemetery back there whether CSA or not because they were born in the south. I'm fightin' for every trailer park kid that ever watched the TV with a dream and said one day that crowd is gonna cheer for me! For every mother that says 'Darlin' to people she just met or every good ol' boy that ever celebrated his rights by buyin' a huntin' rifle. I'm fightin' for every thing that they want to take away. people that don't live in trailer parks or factory towns, or farmlands. I'm going to make this flag mean somethin' again. Not as a symbol of hate but a symbol of freedom for every man woman and child they look down upon. You know what you are to me Cross your just like those damned Yankees that thought that it was one battle and it was gonna be over but I am more than a man. I am an ideal. I am a wish made by every red blooded southerner. I AM JOHNNY REB! I am the Confederacy and as long as i draw breath and men like me draw breath the south will never die. We will rise again and again and again! So, you tell me somethin' Tyler. What the hell do you stand for? When you take off the make up. When you stare in that mirror what the hell do you see? Because when I look in the mirror it ain;t just me. It's everyone I fight for and that's who you are facin'.

*Johnny stands at attention as a soldier would in formation and announces proudly.*

J.R.: American by birth...

*He then raises his hand in salute as one would salute a superior officer*

J.R.: ... Southern by the Grace of God...

*He stands relieved and sternly looks at the camera.*

J.R.: .... And soon to be BAMF Champion.

*He looks at the camera for a moment with a blank but intimidating stare as a soldier of war loks at an enemy but thewn he softens and stands up looking at the camera crew behind the camera.*

J.R.: I like that one. Yeah, you do too? Good, let's get out of here then. I'll take y'all over to Macados! First rounds on me! Yee-haw!

*The camera feed then cuts abruptly as the scene fades to black.*