Hardball

Roleplay Roleplay by WILLIE STEEN
On Wed, Nov22, 2017 3:05pm America/Phoenix
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Hardball
(Scene opens inside the Duncan McIver Arena in New York, during a live taping of a WWX Xcess show. Camera pans over the crowd and empty ring. Suddenly, ďCrawling in the DarkĒ by Hoobastank begins playing throughout the arena. The fans erupt into a mixed chorus of cheers and boos as Willie Steen comes through the curtain, wearing a grey button-up shirt and designer blue jeans. He barely acknowledges the crowd as he walks down to the ring and rolls inside. He immediately walks to the corner and grabs a microphone.)

Donít wet yourself, people. I didnít come out here to perform for you. I came out here because I got something to say.

(Crowd boos)

Come on. Use your brains. If I were gonna compete, do you really think I would do it on a scrub show like this in front of a bunch of broke losers who couldnít afford Ravage tickets.

(Crowd boos louder)

Hell no. Iím an A-list talent and a main event star. I deserve to be showcased in high profile, headline shows in front of people who can afford to dig in their pockets and pay me to do so. 

(Boos continue to intensify)

Of course, you wouldnít know it, the way Iíve been booked lately. Working scrub shows at Wreckage against washed up losers like LuAndre Xavier and the like. Oh, and letís not mention how I got jilted at Hall of Pain, again. 

(Steen takes a second to gather himself and calm down)

This is not what I deserve. I am better than this. And it doesnít get much better this week. Our new GM, James Ranger has me wrestling the anchor leg of a gauntlet match to determine whether Damian Price gets a Television Championship match. Thatís right, me, Willie Steen, the Cool Factor, the smoothest operator in professional wrestling, used as an obstacle, a mere pawn in someone elseís fortune. Well, no more. That stops now. Iím putting kibosh on that now. Iím sick of being underutilized and underappreciated around here. Iím sick of taking orders from a bunch of interchangeable, asshat general managers who donít know how to recognize or appreciate greatness. Today is the day, Willie Steen takes back control of his life and career. From now on, I make my own rules around here. And my first rule is that I donít wrestle any match that I donít want to wrestle, including your little gauntlet match. 

(Steen rubs his chin)

Now, Iím not completely opposed to the idea of wrestling in a gauntlet. Especially if I get the chance to screw over my old pal, Damian Price. Thatís always fun. But if Iím going to grant you the pleasure of my in-ring services, Iím gonna need you to make it a little more worth my while.

(Takes off his sunglasses and looks directly into the camera)

So, Ranger, hereís what needs to happen. I will be generous and offer my talents to you in the match and if Damian gets past me and wins, then congratulations, heís the Number One Contender and everyone goes home happy. However, should he fall short, as he is so often prone to do, and I beat him, that Television Title match, . . . goes to me. Considering I was never granted a rematch when I lost it a few months back, I think Iím being more than fair. 

(Puts his sunglasses back on)

So those are my term, Mr. Ranger. You can either accept my demands, or you can find another decorated World Champion to compete in your match. I here Scotty King isnít doing much these days. 

(Steen gives a sarcastic sneer)

Iíll await your decision. Letís hope you make the right one.

(Steen tosses the microphone over his shoulder and rolls out of the ring without another word. He walks up the ramp as the scene fades to black.)

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