The Next Chapter in the Dream

[Mister Mirage]

Here's the weight of the world on my shoulders...
The music paused for a moment then wheel of fireworks went off around the titantron followed by a huge explosion.

THE WORLD IS AFTER ME!

Cheers erupted through-out the arena as Cyrus stepped out on stage. Instead of his gear he was wearing a white button-up and black cargo pants. He stood tall as he glanced around the erupting fans. He casually walked down to the ring, giving high fives to a few of the front seats as he did. When he finally got to the ring he hopped onto the apron and paced along the ropes a moment before slipping in through the ropes. Cyrus immediately walked over to the ropes opposite of him and leaned forwards as a mic was tossed to him.

THE WHOLE WORLD IS AFTER ME!

As his music died down, Cyrus raised his mic up. "Hello once again WRESTLEMANIA!" Cyrus paused as crowds cheered. "This is truly the place where legends are born and destroyed, where champions are crowned and dethroned. Well, today I have news that will effect the future of this business. And that news is this: The Dream will not compete in this ring tonight. I know, it's disturbing to even picture wrestlemania without me, but you all will have to compensate with people like Landry and Zarel. And yes, that sucks, but have no fear The Dream will someday be back in the WWFG ring. But for now I've decided to take some time off and support a future face of this business. Someone who I plan will grow into a true world champion and give a healthy dose of competition to the WWFG. So I'd show his face to the public here, at Wrestlemania, where Legends and Dreams are born. I'd like to introduce the world to my new student, Clay Baily!"

 

[Salem Croft]

"SUFFERING!"

Orange and black fireworks erupt from the stage, spewing back and forth across the entrance ramp like a firestorm that captivated the eyes of the crowd. As the singer's static scream fills the arena, heralding the impending thunder of rapid kick-bass and thrashing guitar riffs, a lone silhouette erupts from behind the curtain of sparks - tanned skin, an inheritance from the young man's Native American ancestry, was off-set by the presence of jet black hair that hung in quills to his jawline. His eyes were wide, cleanly shaven face spread wide to produce the excited shout that burst from out the man's chest.

Clay was athletically built, toned from obvious hours of training and experience within the squared circle. The black star tattoo on his right shoulder flexed as Clay tensed his arms, beating his chest with stabbing blows from his tape-wrapped fists. He was clearly feeling the rush of the crowd, eagerly reaching out to fans down the isles as he made his way into the ring, microphone in hand. Sliding underneath the bottom rope with the grace of a gymnast, Clay joined The Dream in the ring, clad in a pair of faded black jeans with a bit of baggage to the leggings. Rather than greet his compatriot, however, Clay rushed to the side of the ring, hanging over the top rope to proudly shout to the audience.

"Hello, Wrestlemania!" he yelled passionately, bouncing off from the middle rope to land near his teacher, Cyrus.

"How are we feeling tonight?" he asked, turning around in a circle to survey the eager fans as his music faded out.

"Well, my name's Clay Bailey...and I'm feeling great right now, because I've finally been given a chance to perform here, in the WWFG!"

Clay nodded, hooting in approval as the fans paid respect to the name brand.

"But not only that...I get to be here, with you guys, at Wrestlemania - the place that defines careers, the event that creates legacy and change...a place where you can be immortalized forever, or forgotten tomorrow...and, I get to do it at the side of my personal friend and mentor, Cyrus, "The Dream" Leone!"

Clay gestured to his associate, clapping respectfully along with the fans' cheers.

"You see...I've been in the wrestling business for a while. Been a fan ever since I could lace up a pair of boots. I've worked in middle schools for gas money, I've seen retired legends on the indy circuit. But all my life, I wanted to be here, in this ring, with that World Championship belt around my waist! Now, I've got that opportunity, and I want to personally thank "The Dream" for giving me this chance to be here, tonight."

Without warning, Clay would rush to the nearest turnbuckle, quickly ascending it as his face became more excited by the second.

"I intend to do everything I can to prove to him and you all that I'm the next stage in evolution for this sport!" He shouted, his eyes stopping to make contact with various fans near the ring.

"I will bring spirit! I will bring intensity! I will show you people things you haven't seen before, things you haven't thought before! I will do what I do best, and that is beat the bloody hell out of anyone who gets in my way!"

Clay beat his chest for a moment, shaking his head as another rush of adrenaline was injected into his veins, like octane. Leaping from the top turnbuckle, the ring would quiver as he landed on his feet aside his colleague once again.

"That being said...I have two philosophies in life: If you aren't trying to be the champion, then you're in this industry for the wrong reasons, and if I'm not tasting blood, that means you're doing it wrong."

Clay's demeanor became more relaxed - his passion had not vanished, but was rather subdued by the seriousness in Clay's eyes.

"I'm going to be the World Champion, someday. Quote me on it. Tell your friends at school, tell your boss at work, call your family out-of-state and spread the news that Clay Bailey has finally arrived in the WWFG...and as for all you people in the back, you can call me cocky, you can tell me I'm a joke, but you will never say I'm a liar because I am the real deal, I'm the genuine article, and I'm going to be the biggest thing to happen to this company since my manager first stepped into this ring!"

After pausing to take in the audience's reaction, Clay would turn cordially to his associate.

"...And speaking of my manager, there's something you said a moment ago that caught my attention, Cyrus. You said...'it was disturbing to think of a Wrestlemania without you wrestling', didn't you? You said...the fans would have to 'settle', right? Well, I'm here to tell you that these fans didn't come all the way out here to 'settle' for "The Dream" standing in his street clothes, and I sure as hell didn't come out here to 'settle' for some long-winded monologue, so I think it's time we give the people what they want, which is a match right now!"

As the fans erupt into cheers, Clay raises his right hand, smiling as he points a finger to his manager.

"...and I couldn't think of a better person to wrestle right now than you, sir."

Lowering his hand, Clay shrugged his shoulders, looking on at his mentor.

"You wanted me to come out here and make a statement? Well, actions speak louder than words."

Stepping towards his manager, Clay extended a hand to Cyrus, an invitation, as the fans watched with anticipation.

 

[Mister Mirage]

Cyrus thought for a moment as he looked up into the fans. He raised the mic to his mouth, but paused for a moment as the arena filled with cheers. He suddenly exploded into the mic. "THE DREAM, CYRUS LEONE, TONIGHT AGAINST HIS STUDENT, CLAY BAILY!" Cheers erupted from the crowds from the charismatic Dream's explosion. "Tonight I personally will debut my trainee into the WWFG. The only one who will have to settle tonight is the so called champion, Mike Landry, cause he'll have to settle for his match being only second best to the one and only Dream!" Cyrus finally turned to Clay and shook his hand.

 

[Salem Croft]

Ark of Nine

Clay's brown eyes flickered with life as he heard Cyrus' answer, causing him to bounce excitedly towards the corner nearest the announcing table. Standing on the second turnbuckle, Clay gestured toward the timekeeper, urging him to ring the bell. After hearing the man's answer, Clay became noticeably agitated and promptly stepped onto the apron to yell at the official.

"You get in here and say it!" Clay demanded of the timekeeper, his face red and angry.

After a few seconds of being shouted at, the timekeeper reluctantly approached the ring, stepping in through the turnbuckle before approaching Clay in the center of the squared circle.

"Go ahead, Mr. Timekeeper." Clay said, his voice heavy with resentment and frustration. "Tell these fine folks what you just told me."

The timekeeper, a fox starting to gray around the crown of his scalp, nervously spoke into his personal microphone.

"W-Well..." he started nervously. "Y-You don't have a match scheduled...and without proper authorization, I can't ring the bell or call a referee out here."

The audience was openly displeased with this news, voicing their protest in a unanimous boo that shook the stadium.

"I 'don't have a match scheduled', you say?" Clay asked, his voice almost as threatening as his demeanor as he chested up to the official. "I told these people I was going to put on a show, and I damn-well meant it. I don't care what you or your corporate suits have to say about it."

Clay glared down at the timekeeper, producing a tremble of fright in the middle-aged man as he took small steps away, towards the ropes.

"But...t-those are the rules, I'm afraid...I can't have a referee call this match without proper authorization. I'm sorry." Clay was politely told by the timid gentleman.

Shaking his head, Clay seemed annoyed to the point of laughter as he smiled and growled. After a moment of venting, however, Clay raised his hands and took in a couple of deep breaths. His muscles stopped their twitching, as did his eyebrows. Nodding politely, Clay gestured to the timekeeper.

"You know what...you're right." Clay said apologetically. "I'm sorry. Rules are rules...it's just that -"

Cutting himself off mid-sentence, Clay would pivot his hips with a snap of force, bringing his right leg up to connect his toe firmly into the timekeeper's temple. The power and speed behind the blow was instantaneous, causing the aged fellow to fall through the ropes behind him in a slumped heap of unconsciousness. The kick striking the official's head rang like a clap of thunder through the arena, and prompted the entire crowd to start cheering in support.

Before the man could even hit the ground, however, Clay's face had become excited once again - his microphone, raised to his lips.

"...we don't NEED a referee!" he screamed to the crowd, tossing the microphone to the arena floor as he gestured towards Dream. Drawing his mentor's attention, Clay pretended to strike a bell with his hand, "Rocky"-style to signal the start of the match.