SD 48: Matt Cook vs Creed Michaels

[Ben Jacobs]

Post rps below.

2 point early rp bonus for each wrestler's first rp which scores above 10 and is posted prior to Monday, November 9th @ 3:30 PM CST. (Board time)

RP DEADLINE:
MONDAY, Nov. 16th @ 11:59 PM CST (board time)

Match & segment deadline is Wednesday, Nov. 18th @ 10AM CST. (board time)

["New Legend" Matt Cook]

[The scene opens in a kitchen that is in need of serious updating. The cupboards are yellow with black trim and the floor has a pattern that hasn’t been intentionally used in a home since 1976. Matt Cook paces back and forth, his cell phone pressed against his ear.]

Matt Cook: Listen, I know what you told me, but it doesn’t matter!

[Matt is obviously agitated. He speaks with a wild flare, a quick tempo strained with emotional undertones.]

Matt Cook: Well then you need to get me somebody who CAN help me.

[He runs his hands through his hair, his body shaking as he yells into the phone.]

Matt Cook: I don’t care what your policy is, I need to know what’s going on over there!

[The camera pans left and we see Matt Cook’s parents sitting at a small wooden dining room table.]

Dad: Oh, cut it out already! It’s useless.

Mom: Oh be quiet. This is important to him.

[Matt glares at the two, they lower their voice.]

Mom: You know he’s upset about this, it’s really bothering him.

Dad: What did he expect? This is what you have to come to terms with when you live a lifestyle like he does. He made his bed, now he has to lie in it.

Matt Cook: It’s not hard to tell me what I want to hear. I won’t report you to your boss or…. Fine, I’ll hold!

[Matt throws his hands into the air in frustration.]

Matt Cook: Will you two quiet down over there?

Dad: This is my house, I’ll be as loud as I please. When you have your own house, and invite us over, we’ll follow your rules. Until then…

Mom: Oh, give Matt a break. I’m going to go get Gramps to talk to him.

Matt Cook: Don’t do that Mom, he doesn’t…. oh? He said what?

[Matt returns to his phone call while his mom stands and exits the screen. Matt’s dad pull out a newspaper and begins to read.]

Matt Cook: Listen to me lady, I am responsible for the way things are. It was me that put him in the hospital to start with.



Grandpa: No you didn’t.

[Matt spins to see his grandpa walking toward him. The old man is slow moving, but steady and reaches out toward Matt Cook. With a dumbfounded expression on his face, Matt is simple forced to watch as his grandpa takes the phone from his hand and hangs it up.]

Matt Cook: Hey, I was finally making progress. This…

[He is cut off.]

Grandpa: Be still, you talk too much.

Matt Cook: …. Yes sir.

Grandpa: Come, let ‘s go for a walk young man.

[The pair walk out the front door, the camera in pursuit. They move slowly but deliberately around the house and into the back yard. The yard is fairly narrow but very long, with several trees scattered throughout. They walk among them.]

Grandpa: In this business you have to be ruthless. You have to be mean. You must be a warrior. When I wrestled back in the islands we wouldn’t think twice of taking a metal hook to someone’s forehead, or dropping them on their neck and paralyzing them.

Matt Cook: These are different times grandpa, wrestling isn’t like that anymore. Now we go by a code of not purposefully doing any long term damage to each other.

Grandpa: Don’t think that we didn’t have a code too. Our code said that outside the ring we were king to each other… but in the ring we were ruthless and cunning, sharp and violent. It was understood by all that we were only trying to win. That’s what it takes to win.

Matt Cook: I just don’t feel that way… I don’t know, I guess it’s just because I’m so new…

Grandpa: How can you expect to win if you’re not willing to sacrifice for that win? Ninety percent of wrestling is mental. If you are willing to do more, to go further, to be meaner than your opponent, then you’ve already done the Lion’s share of the word.

Matt Cook: I can’t ever see myself intentionally hurting someone….

Grandpa: He is the one that chose to came stumbling to the ring. He was in no position to be in any type of match what-so-ever.

Matt Cook: All the more reason my win was worthless. He was obviously hurt in the ring and instead of asking for help or helping him myself, I jumped off the top and put him in the hospital.

Grandpa: And if you didn’t? You may have lost the match. Do you really think your next opponent would spare you if you showed up in that state?

Matt Cook: Well I don’t know too much about Creed. Apparently he is a little crazy too. I guess some guys just get all the luck. What I do know about Creed tells me that he wouldn’t think twice before ending my career. He even picked on a woman in his RCW debut.

Grandpa: So this man seems to have no honor. Would you feel bad about treating a low life like him with a harsh hand?

Matt Cook: I think ‘low life’ is a bit much. I mean, the guy has some sort of mental disability. He probably can’t control the way he acts and feels. Who knows, maybe if I was injured in the ring it would activate his compassion side and he wouldn’t want to end it. Besides, this isn’t about Creed Michaels, it’s about Matt Cook. I made a poor decision and in put a man in the hospital.

Grandpa: And all I am trying to tell you is that you didn’t make a poor decision. Pyros was probably on his way to the hospital anyway before foolishly stumbling out to the ring. He was putting you in jeopardy by wanting to compete with you. You did the only smart thing and eliminated that threat. You should be proud of what you did. Pyros would probably still be on the street if it wasn’t for you facilitating medical care. To top it all off, Creed Michaels doesn’t care about you or have the same dilemmas you do. Creed Michaels would be perfectly happy tearing you to shreds. If you want to win a match like that you have to dig deep down inside and find within yourself the meanest, angriest, nastiest person you can muster. You must be willing to risk injury to both you and your opponent. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to have your arm raised at the end of the match.

Matt Cook: And for all those reasons Grandpa, I think maybe pro wrestling isn’t right for me after all…

[Grandpa freezes, shocked at what Matt said. Matt hangs his head as he turns back toward the house.]

[Creed Michaels]

THE GOSPEL
EPISODE 2.1
LOCATION: FUTURE MURDER SCENE

{With nightfall set upon the Boys and Girls Club, one man has remained behind; pondering his next move; preparing for his next supposed challenge. He is Creed Michaels and as he sits in front of the Boys and Girls Club, his all-too-familiar smile spreads across his face.}

Creed - You must be wondering why I choose to sit here this week instead of my own, humble abode. The answer is simple: to map out just what kind and how much pain, chaos, destruction and doom I shall bring to the one who would call himself a "new legend." You inbred sycophants may believe that I'm just...{in a southern drawl}..."flappin' mah gums in da breeze."

{His evil laugh only holds for several moments before it ends and his look becomes that of anger.}

Creed - If that's what you idiotic seals believe then it's evident that you didn't see my dissection and destruction of Nathan Sanders last week. If you failed to take notice of that performance than another demonstration of my abilities will have to be conducted. After I take care of your noble, little warrior, you will all realize that not only am I vastly superior to Matt Cook in mind, body and soul but that when I speak it's the gospel.

{Creed, almost anxiously, licks his lips together; thinking about his opponent yet-to-come.}

Creed - Of course, when I said "your noble, little warrior," I was of the assumption that you s*mb*gs on the unworthy side of the guardrail actually care for or about this fool that RCW has granted me the time of day to destroy. Do you care about this individual? This...child of a man? This fool who can't keep his parents out of his affairs, let alone focus on the matter at hand? DO YOU HONESTLY CARE ABOUT MATT COOK?!?!

{Creed calms down for the moment and shakes his head in disagreement.}

Creed - I don't think you do nor should any of you. While I could care less where the loyalties of the luckless fools lie, I asked this to make a point about these individuals who present themselves as "do-gooders" or "mama's boys" or "all-American boys" or something as wholesome as that stupidity. You try to go through life as an honorable person because you think that's what people want. You believe, Cook, that if you walk the straight and narrow path that the people will accept you, trust you and believe in you. The truth is that people like you disgust the commoner who makes their way to this building every week. You represent the oppressor who makes their lives a living hell in their daily lives. You represent the high school jock who looked and acted like he was better than everyone else. People like you were the first that I set out to destroy in life. Not only have I been successful but I will always be successful in crushing people like you, Cook, because I know exactly what you are and what you are capable of. So, while the moral majority will never accept me or my supposed cohorts, there will always be those out there who will look to me for guidance and success because not only do they want to be me and defeat you but they know themselves to be, in some small measure, like me and know that I will defeat you.

{Creed slightly laughs again but doesn't let it overcome him. He calms himself as he continues to speak his message.}

Creed - Cook, I'm glad that I've evolved past this emotion that you call sympathy because it's a useless waste of time. If I were so worried about a lost soul landing himself in the emergency room, a soul that YOU defeated and assisted in putting him there, Cook, then I would be as weak-willed a person as you. Thank Heaven and Hell that I don't worry about who I hurt, how bad I hurt them or if they ever recover at all. That's because I have the survival instinct that is necessary to rise to the top of the mountain in life. I was blessed in this natural selection that is life with being the strong that shall annihilate the weak that gets in my way. Cook, you are one of the weak, one of many, that I must clear out of my path if I am to continue my success in RCW.

{Creed makes his way to his feet; taking a moment to collect himself after he does. He starts to walk past the entranceway as he continues his soliloquy.}

Creed - You know, now that I think more about the matter at hand, maybe I shouldn't be facing Matt Cook this week. Cook, himself, said that he doesn't know if he has what it takes to compete in the squared circle anyway so why waste both our times? In fact, if he feels that way then he should stay far away from me because the only thing I hate worse than supposed "do-gooders" is cowards and quitters. Anyone who doesn't have the stomach to get the job done, no matter what the cost, doesn't deserve to live. That isn't just an opinion but a fact; death is the only thing a coward like Cook deserves if he fails to live up to his commitment to this backwater company, to himself as a man and to me as his executioner. If he does decide to run and hide from his responsibility, it will still only save him from his destiny for so limited a time. Eventually, the damned receive what they deserve. So, Cook, you can either meet me here at the upcoming Southern Dynamite and accept your fate as a man or you can cower in a darkened corner until someone who lives and breathes in the dark, such as myself, comes along and sends you to Hell. Those are your options, Cook, and there is no middle ground; die on your feet or live on your knees.

{Creed stops in his tracks as a thought crosses his mind. He runs his hand through his mohawk to wipe it away from his eyes.}

Creed - I just realized that your grandfather is apparently a person who understands what I think. His personal opinion of me notwithstanding, he's been there and knows the message that I speak to be true. It seems that he was what could pass for a ruthless person in days of wrestling's past. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't waste my time with a snot-nosed punk of a coward in his grandson but should give the old man a nice, big sendoff into the next life. I'm sure he'd appreciate the effort as I squeezed his skull in on itself with my bare hand, he must be willing to sacrifice his mental health just to know what a skull crashing into a turnbuckle feels like and I know that after I send his lifeless body crashing to the mat and crush his soul, his last words before passing will be "Creed...while you are the one who has killed me...I'm proud of you because you proved that you have the guts to be a wrestler...unlike my grandson...that coward."

{Creed again laughs for a moment before lifting his arms and head up towards the sky.}

Creed - And as I ensured that the old man was gone, I would look up into the skies and say "Yes! I am a true competitor and I am the one who has crushed this man's soul. Since that coward, Matt Cook, had to run and hide from his responsibility, his grandfather will have to do for now."

{Creed raises his hands to his face; a maniacal smile piercing from his lips; echoing throughout the empty parking lot. After he's had his fill, he calms himself again; a look of anger fills his eyes.}

Creed - Cook, if you feel that I've gone too far then all you have to do is show up at this place and accept your fate. Prove to everyone that you can face death like a man instead of hiding behind your mother's skirt, your father's drunken stupor and your grandfather's foolish pride. If you do have the guts to be a true competitor, you will have to do away with these matters anyway if you are to even have a prayer of competing with me. Otherwise, you should just send the old man and let me put him out of his misery. Not his misery of having lived a long life but the misery of knowing that his grandson's a failure and a coward. We'll see what your choice may be in time for Southern Dynamite but, whether or not you enter the battlefield to face me and allow me to destroy you, I shall remain vastly superior to any and all who get in my way. I, unlike you, know who and what I am and despite what supposed experts would believe I know what must be done. I won't rest until this happens and I stand atop a mountain of my mangled, broken victims. Cook, that pile needs a foundation and I think your rotten corpse would do nicely. Don't disappoint me Cook because that would be the last mistake you ever make in your wasted life.

{Creed begins his walk again; a smile spreading across his face.}

Creed - If you are to be a "new legend", Cook, then I know how you'll rightfully gain such a title: my first victim to cry during their death, the shortest tenured wrestler in history and the first wrestler to have been pulled apart and crushed; bit-by-bit; piece-by-piece.

{Creed starts to laugh again and continues to do so until he walks out of the lamplights' range and disappears into the shadows.}

["New Legend" Matt Cook]

[The camera cuts in on what has become the familiar setting of the kitchen of Matt Cook’s family home. Dishes are piled on a small table, with Matt Cook standing at the sink washing another pile. A woman, obviously his mother, yells from the far side of the room.]

Mom: There is no way I am letting you have this match Matt.

Matt Cook: Mom, you need to settle down.

Mom: Settle down? Settle down? Are you serious? Your father showed me what that… that, monster had to say about you. I heard what he said about Grandpa and I even heard what he said about your father and me. This is totally unacceptable.

Matt Cook: Mom, you’re right. Now sit down and take a deep breath.

[Matt dries his hands as he walks over to the table. His mom sits next to him, wringing her hands, obviously upset and emotionally distraught. Matt puts one arm around her.]

Matt Cook: First off, you were never supposed to be involved in my RCW career, I’m sorry for that.

Mom: Oh, sorry, like that even begins…

Matt Cook: But I can’t help it that you; dad, grandpa, and you, butted into my life on a regular basis and were captured by RCW cameras. I can’t help that I cannot yet afford to move out of this house. Believe me, I can’t wait until I can cash a few more RCW paychecks and…

Mom: You’re not going anywhere! Who will keep grandpa company.

Matt Cook: Mom, listen, once I save some money I need to go out and see the world. I need to

Mom: You need to mind your mother.

Matt Cook: Ok mom, relax, we’ll talk about that later. What’s important for you to know is that what was said wasn’t for real. Wrestling isn’t like that anymore. Creed Michaels is just a jerk looking for a reaction. It’s just TV mom, no big deal.

Mom: He seemed pretty intent on destroying our lives.

Matt Cook: That’s what they all say, mom. It’s no big deal.

Mom: I don’t like this one bit.

Matt Cook: Listen, don’t watch anymore RCW promos ok? It’ll be alright, I promise.

[Mrs. Cook seems much more relaxed as she lets out a deep sigh.]

Mom: Ok, then run along. I’ll finish the dishes, it helps calm my nerves.

Matt Cook: Awesome, thanks mom. And don’t worry I know exactly what I’m doing.

[Matt leans in and kisses his smiling mother on the forehead as he walks behind the camera. After a moment there is rustle as the camera is moved, presumably being carried by Cook across his living room and through a door that leads to the basement. The camera struggles to adjust to the darkness before finally being set down. Matt Cook emerges from behind the camera and sits in a chair directly in front of it.]

Matt Cook: Creed Michaels, you just made me lie to my mother. Do you know how that makes me feel? Worse of all I had to lie to my mother about someone like you. I had to make her think that you’re just putting on an act, that you’re really a nice guy. In reality, only one of those statements is true.

Yes, I think you’re disturbed, you probably have a whole host of mental defects and social conditions that, combined with faulty parenthood, have played havoc with your brain.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no psychiatrist, but it has been my experience that those that try the hardest to make themselves seem strong are the weakest. Those who try the hardest to make themselves seem great are the worst. You claim to be vastly superior, an act that implies to me that you are, in fact, inferior. Before you go criticizing my namesake, ‘The New Legend’ allow me a brief explanation:

My grandfather, as you pointed out, is a legend throughout the Pacific isles. He’s wrestled on islands large and small. He’s earned the respect of the toughest Tongan and Samoan wrestlers, athletes, and warriors. I am not saying that I am a legend as he is. I am saying that I hope to be. I am working toward making my goals a reality, toward building my own legacy, my own legend. It doesn’t matter that I am not a legend now, but that I aspire to be a legend down the road. You, Michaels, can be a great stepping stone.

It’s appropriate that you came along at this time, Michaels. Somehow, someone in the front office new this would be a great match up. I have been beating myself up over the Pyros situation. My grandfather said that I need to show no weakness. He said I must be strong and not allow myself to feel pity for doing my job. You’ve agreed with him. You’ve made the same point. You’ve accepted your role in life and have taken this philosophy to heart. You view kindness and mercy and compassion as weakness. You associate them with cowardice.

Let me assure you, Creed, that I am no coward. I showed concern for Pyros because I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I didn’t have any personal problems with him. He never wronged me or insulted my family. You, on the other hand, have. You, Creed Michaels, have made me angry. You have me all wrong Creed, and it’s going to cost you. I love my family, I listen to my elders, I respect tradition. These are not weaknesses, they are sources of strength. Just because I don’t take pleasure in hurting people doesn’t mean that I am incapable of it. If you haven’t figured it out yet, allow me to make it crystal clear to you: I will be at Southern Dynamite. I will fight you with a vengeance for making this personal. Most importantly, I will defeat you. You think you have me figured out, but you can’t even figure yourself out, can you? It’s quite pathetic, really, that you feel the urge and desire to resist and rebuke labels and stereotypes when you apply them to me. Truthfully, you apply them to yourself just as much.

For all your claims of independence and alternative lifestyles, you not only sum me up as a jock based on nothing but your own instinct, and simultaneously cast yourself as the anti-hero, working hard for the losers and science nerds of your high school mental imagination. Thankfully, the real world isn’t like the world in your head Creed. Of course, you’ll never admit that, because you think you know everything and you have all the answers.

I’m man enough to admit that I don’t know everything. I’m even man enough to admit when you’re right about something. Maybe I shouldn’t be remorseful over what happened with Pyros. Maybe the fans out there don’t care about me. Luckily, as I said earlier, you’re here to help me overcome. The fans despise you, and by defeating you, they’ll love me. You’re solving the problem you, yourself pointed out. If that makes me represent the ‘good and honorable’ all the better. I don’t go out of my way to be ‘the good guy’ or popular or whatever it is you want to label me. I just so happened to be raised in a good home by parents who cared. What you see out of me is not me trying to be something I’m not. I am who I am because of how I was raised, the same as you, Creed. Now I can’t help it if your parents hugged you too much or not nearly enough as a child. I can’t help it if you got stuffed into lockers in high school. I can’t help the way you were… but I hope that I can help the way you will be.

I’m going to defeat you Creed. I’m going to defeat you soundly and definitively. I’m hoping to shatter your whole belief system and world. Part of me is going to enjoy it, because of your insistence of bringing my family into this. The other part of me is going to be satisfied with it, to show all your ‘mindless sheep’ followers that you do not have the answers you think you do. You are no Shepard Creed, you are lost among the flock. I’m not your savior, I’m not your hero, but I hope that my beating of you will point you in the right direction. I advise you to get ready, your whole world is going to change.

[There is the sound of a quiet clapping from behind the camera. Akoi, Matt Cook’s elderly grandfather walks from behind the camera.]

Grandpa: That was really powerful stuff. I’m sorry I missed the beginning. What did you lie to your mother about?

Matt Cook: I told her that Creed was just joking. That he was putting on a show and didn’t mean what he said.

Grandpa: I see. You know sometimes you think you are doing the right thing, but you are not. It is never wrong to right and never right to do wrong.

Matt Cook: I know grandpa.

Grandpa: I know you’re growing up and that involves a lot of changing. Just be sure you like who you’re changing into.

Matt Cook: Thanks….

[Matt puts his arm around his grandpa and the two walk from the camera’s view.]

[Creed Michaels]

THE GOSPEL
EPISODE 2.2
LOCATION: STANDING NEXT TO AN IMPUDENT FOOL

{Inside the Boys and Girls Club stands a very nervous Melvin Gates. His nerves are with good reason; he’s standing next to Creed Michaels and about to interview him. With a lump in his throat, Melvin tries to talk to the new, mysterious figure of RCW.}

Melvin - So, uh, Creed…how’s it going?

{Creed just turns his head and glares a hole through Melvin with his eyes. Melvin takes a big gulp, takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his brow with it. Realizing that he’s gotten the desired effect, that being fear, Creed lets out his evil laugh.}

Creed - Don’t worry, Melvin; despite your obvious stupidity and unworthiness for life, I won’t be the one to end your pitiful existence…at least for today.

Melvin - Well, good…good! Does that mean you have no objections to this interview then?

Creed - Of course not. These fat cows believe me to be nothing more than a bogeyman or in Matt Cook’s case an unruly despot, but I will prove that I am very real and very much in control of my own thoughts and actions.

Melvin - Very good then.

{Melvin notices a small puddle forming on the floor that appears to be blood. He looks up a little bit further and sees that it’s dripping from Creed’s hands. His jaw drops as he becomes horrified. Creed notices Melvin’s disturbed demeanor and just shakes his head in disgust.}

Creed - I thought you would have a weak stomach and my thoughts proved right. Just make sure that if you’re going to “relieve” your stomach contents that you don’t do so on me. Otherwise, I will end what remains of your life. Now, as you can see, I have other matters remaining on my agenda that I must finish today so let’s get on with this stupidity.

Melvin - Uh…ok.

{Melvin is about to signal for the camera man to start rolling but looks down and sees a package on the floor; next to Creed’s feet.}

Melvin - Would you mind telling me what that is?

Creed - Soon enough, Melvin. Like I said, let’s get this started.

{Melvin nods his head before vehemently signaling the camera man. He gets the message as his camera’s soon rolling. Melvin composes himself as best as he can as his logo appears on the TV monitor.}

{As the screen transitions to a live shot, the upbeat photo of Melvin looks almost nothing like the petrified man holding the microphone in the Boys and Girls Club.}

Melvin - Hello again, RCW fans. Melvin Gates here with another exclusive and I’m sure quite interesting interview. I am here with a man who made his in-ring debut at the last Southern Dynamite in impressive fashion over Nathan Sanders but made his on-camera debut the show before in scaring my colleague Bettie Lee Rose nearly to death! I am, of course, talking about “The Vastly Superior” Creed Michaels. Creed, thank your for joining me today.

Creed - Melvin, I’m sure it would be your pleasure if you quit the pleasantries and got to the point before I reach over and snap your neck.

{Again, Melvin is forced to wipe his brow with the handkerchief. He clears his throat after doing so; making a quick glance towards the security guard stationed off-camera in the room.}

Melvin - Uh, very well. Like I was asking before the camera was rolling, I couldn’t help but notice the package standing at your feet…or the blood on your hands. Would you care to elaborate?

{Creed gives Melvin another annoyed look before reaching down and picking up the package. He holds it up close for the camera as he explains himself.}

Creed - Since you continue to pester me about my methods, Melvin, I suppose I should put an end to your curiosity like the p*ssy you are. This package is addressed to Matt Cook’s dear mother. It seems that both she and her snot-nosed punk of a son are confused on my true intentions. Therefore, I took it upon myself to end all doubts. Enclosed is a video tape for Mrs. Cook which will prove just how much her loving, darling boy has lied to her the past few days; trying to “protect” her from the pain that I will soon cause to Matt. Just in case Matt, trying to be a “do-gooder,” despite saying that he doesn’t try to be, would intercept the package and destroy its contents, I took the liberty of making copies and gave one to your producer who will be kind enough to play part of it now.

{Confused, Melvin simply nods his head and signals for the producer off-camera to play the tape.}

Melvin - Alright then. Ladies and gentlemen, the further opinions of Creed Michaels.

{Creed tosses the package back onto the floor as the TV monitor starts to play the tape. It shows Creed; sitting on a folding chair; his hair drooped over his face; the camera close up towards him. He flicks his hair back and displays a look of raw hatred as he speaks.}

Creed - Mrs. Cook, you want to fee safe? You want to be secure with the words of your little boy at home; telling you that everything I do is an act? Being confident in the fact that you’ll be alright? Well, I have to tell you that he’s a liar, although he doesn’t mean to be. He simply can’t stop me or what I shall do once I run through him at Southern Dynamite. I am a man who destroys whatever cannot be controlled. I am a man who takes great delight in making people suffer. I am a man who will accomplish both at Southern Dynamite as I send your son, your own, cherished blood, into an early grave. He could’ve avoided this all by walking away but his own, short-sided, bullish stupidity will lead him to the end of his short life. After that, all I have to do is run through an old, withered man and your naïve husband before I show you just how serious I can be.

{Creed reaches down with his left hand and pulls up a bloody, unknown, young man.}

Creed - Just ask this person who was stupid enough to ask me for training. {In a mocking tone} “I can help you get ready for Cook, Creed. Really, I’m completely behind you and ready to help.” Yet another foolish drone who thought that I’m just playing.

{Creed briefly flashes a smile before looking down into the young man’s blood-soaked face and begins screaming.}

Creed - DO I LOOK LIKE I’M PLAYING?!?! DO I LOOK LIKE I NEED OR WANT YOUR HELP?!?! I THINK NOT!

{Creed lets go of the young man and pushes him back to the floor as he looks back at the camera. He holds up his hands; then, like now at the interview setting, his hands are covered in what is certainly the young man’s blood.}

Creed - Soon enough, Mrs. Cook, your flesh and blood shall be on my hands as I brutalize your son.

{Creed reaches out and turns off the camera. The screen comes back to a live shot of Melvin and Creed; Creed smugly smiling; Melvin in a further state of shock.}

Melvin: Fans I certainly apologize on behalf of both myself and RCW for that video tape.

{Creed’s smile fades as he glares at Melvin again.}

Creed - Don’t apologize, Melvin. Never apologize for what I do because I feel no remorse for my actions. I wanted to prove a point that this idea that the Cook Family has of me, being weak in some way, shape or form, is far from accurate. I crushed that young man’s body and spirit not just because I enjoyed it but to prove a point that I rely on nobody’s help in wrestling but myself. Cook is a man, NO! Cook is a child who is forced to fall back on his mother, father and grandfather; not only for support but for motivation.

{Creed looks back to the camera; a devilish sneer on his face.}

Creed - It took me going after your family for you to become motivated for this match, Cook. Before I did, you were ready to give up; walk away; ride off into the sunset or whatever it is these brain dead, slack jaws say. You were so worried about Pyros that you were ready to walk away before causing anymore pain. However, I don’t think Pyros appreciated your concern as he’s still a lost soul in a world enclosing on his puny body. But I digress. The point is that you were right the next time you spoke, Cook. The weakest are those who must present themselves as strong. You have proven that with your latest, hollow words. You went from crying over Pyros’ crushed spirit to be full of p*ss and vinegar about beating me. You accused me of being disturbed, like others have done in the past, because you thought that would make you feel like a bigger man. You’re trying to build yourself up so that the delinquents who come to see your public execution will think you might have a chance in defeating me but all you’ve done is given them the slightest of false hope.

{Creed flicks his hair back with his hand; a smudge of blood now on his face from the movement.}

Creed - Trying to defend yourself as a new legend will only serve to make your end that much more painful. If you think that you’re a legend then I will see just what a supposed “new legend” can withstand. How much pain their spine can handle; how much blood their body can lose; how much blunt force trauma their brain can stand before it gives out. You claim that you don’t want to be a “do-gooder” for those people out there and that you’re no hero. I can promise you that no one will think you’re a legend or a star or a hero once I’m finished with you. The general populace, naïve beings that they are, always back a winner; they expect results. Your wish of not wanting to be a good guy shall be granted because they’ll want nothing to do with a pathetic, waste of what’s left of your skin when it’s all over. You talk about shattering worlds when it’s I who have made a living of shattering lives. Yours will be but the latest.

{The smile leaves his lips as he holds his hands up for the camera.}

{A look of both anger and sensationalized joy fill his face; the blood still dripping down his hands.}

Creed - Do you honestly think you can change something that doesn’t need or even wants to be changed, Matt? My mind is the weapon that shall destroy you. By feeding off of whatever anger you think you can muster up to face me, I shall use it against you. Whatever rage you feel shall be your undoing and then I will be able to show those impudent fools at Southern Dynamite that blood on my hands shall be a normal occurrence until you idiots in the locker room realize that I’m not one to be f*cked with. Matt, I hope your nice, wholesome family has a family plot all set out for you because you’ll soon be occupying it once I get these hands on you.

{Creed starts to laugh as the camera turns to focus back on Melvin. Still horrified, Melvin can barely get a word out.}

Melvin - Umm…thanks for joining us everyone. We’ll see you at Southern Dynamite.

{The camera cuts and Creed looks to Melvin with another annoyed look. He simply shakes it off, reaches out and takes Melvin’s handkerchief in his hand. He uses it to wipe the blood off his hands; turning the rag from bright white to colorful red. Creed then throws it back in Melvin’s face; causing Melvin to quickly check and make sure that no blood made it onto his face.}

Creed - So, Melvin, why didn’t you ask me anymore questions?

Melvin - Because it looked like this was nothing more than a way for you to get a public forum for your sick desires.

{Creed flashes his evil smile as he nods in agreement.}

Creed - You’re right about that, Melvin. This was all about me and me explaining to the world just what I intend to do to that “pretty boy” at the next show. You did your job: kept your mouth shut and held up the microphone to me. Keep this up and I may make you my personal media liaison.

{Melvin nearly goes white as he thinks about having to deal with Creed all the time. Vehemently, he shakes his head “no.” Creed just continues to smile.}

Creed - You maybe right, Melvin. When it comes to my lifestyle and my meticulous ways…

{The smile soon fades from Creed as he again pierces Melvin’s body with his eyes.}

Creed - …a lowlife like you couldn’t keep up.

{Creed goes to walk out the door but looks back down at the package; bloody hand prints now on either side.}

Creed - Make sure that package gets delivered.

Melvin - But…it has blood on it.

{Creed’s smile returns as he admires his prints on the package. He opens the door before replying.}

Creed - That’s just my way of making introductions to the soon-to-be, dear departed Mrs. Cook.

{Creed begins to maniacally laugh as the door closes behind him; his laugh echoing off the walls out in the hallway. Melvin just looks down at the blood-soaked box on the floor before him.}