The camera settles on a man with lazy looking baggy green eyes, leaning back in a chair, he's wearing a gaunt smirk as he stares into the camera. His bleached blond his is slicked back with enough grease that the wetness was visible on it. Five'o clock shadow spreads across his jaw, on his upper lip is a mustache that wouldn't look out of place on a used car-salesman or a male porn star. Visible from the torso up, it appeared he was wearing a rumpled looking slim cut suit, a gaudy looking one at that..
"You know, it's easy to be romantic about wrestling"
He takes a puff of the cigarette that'd been clenched in between his teeth before removing it from his mouth, turning, and blowing the smoke away, not wanting to damage the sensitive camera lens.
"But I'm gunna be frank, since it's the only way to get through to these swine. More than it is an art, more than it is entertainment, more than it is spectacle, wrestling is a business. No different than the car industry, lumber, electronics, tobacco, so on and so forth. The intent is, above all, to make money. Now often it isn't us, the talent that makes the money.. Infact..
Freak scratches at his head, taking a pause so he could think about what he wanted to say. He drops the cigarette on the ground and appears to squish it with the ball of his heel.
"Infact, I'd compare it, being a wrestler, that is, to... To getting married to a really old rich woman.. It's, withered, decrepit, smelly, you give more to it than it gives to you, but if you stick with it, it'll pay off in the long run. The old hag kicks the bucket, you get her inheritance, you make it to the big leagues, win a title, and to the champion go the spoils. But see, there's a difference. Death is inevitable. Success in wrestling, especially on that scale, is far from inevitable."
He runs a hand through his hair, before chuckling a little bit. He adjusts the collar on his shirt, trying to get a little bit more comfortable before he continued with what he was saying
"13 years in this business... I never won a world title. Not once. A couple on the indy's sure, but who cares about that nonsense. That's not to say that I was not successful.. I'd carved out my own comfortable niche, a Intercontinental Title here, a Hardcore title there, couple tag belts.. Worked in Japan, worked in Europe, worked in Puerto Rico.. Got a nice New York apartment, I can afford my own plane tickets, rent some decent cars to get around and I even get to supplement my income off working for guys like Chrono and Mick Foley.. You'd have to be dumb to say I wasn't successful, I'm certainly a lot better off than half of these people in the audience.. Wallowing in there own filth, accepting there checks from the government to just barely scrap by.. But you see, there's you, the fans, there's wrestlers that live like me and Brantley, and then there are guys like Mike Landry, Kelly King, Justin Amaze, Jarel, Harli, and even my old boss..."
The fans who'd see this video later would pop at mention of the names. He shrugs a little bit.
"Could'a been one of those guys. Pleasant thought, right? I'd grown with a few of them, I'm a whole lot more talented than plenty of 'em.. Definitely smarter. All I had to do was step up. But I was always too content with where I was. A big fish in a small pond. Why aim high then crash and burn when you can aim low and score every time? I was raised to be cautious anyways... Even when I tried to step up and capture those ever elusive belts, I was overlooked in favor of other stars. All these thoughts ran through my head as I sat in a bar a few weeks ago, knocking back some rum with Brantley.. I don't like to go to bars, it often involves mingling with the unwashed masses, but it was a small price to pay for a good drink.. Heh..."
Freak stops to clear his throat after chuckling a little bit. He glances off to the side, probably at someone off set before continuing.
"I told Brantley, a good chap, that the only way he was going to be able to become a success with these... With these people, would be to go into business on his own.. That stuck with me. I'd given him advice that I myself, had never followed. Well why would I give someone advice that I didn't follow? ********, that's pretty silly of me. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I'd done nearly everything there is to do, I'd like to believe.. So what am I still wrestling for? Why am I still involved in this terrible industry? I've graduated college, have a few connections, maybe I could give acting a whirl! Why am I still banging this rich old broad, when she's one hundred and twenty years old and still hasn't bitten the dust?
Simple. Because deep down, even though I try not to be romantic about this, even though I'd like to convince myself that I'm still in this for the money, or the biggest lie of all, I do this because I find it fun, it's not true. I'm still doing this because I still need to win the big one. I need the glory, the fame, the recognition, the respect, the validation for this decade plus of my life.. "
He leans forward as if to get to the point
"Whether any of you plebeians, WWFG, or fellow wrestlers want me to, I'm gunna win the Undisputed Title. If you couldn't tell by whats already happening in WWE:E, the Marauders are going in business for themselves... And business is booming... BAHAHAHHAHAHA! "
Fade to black.
