Post by Steve Sinclair on Feb 10, 2017 13:53:52 GMT
Shortly after Meltdown…….
The NAW Horizon Championship rests on the counter next to Sutton who is in the bathroom in front of the sink scrubbing the paint off of his face and he’s not looking happy about it either. The red spray paint is proving to be a bitch to get out of his beard. Lillie Mae is manning the camera.
“Who ever the dumb fuck was that did this…” Sutton says as he rips off another wad of paper towels from the roll. “You better hope that I never ever find your fucking ass cuz when I do….”
Sutton scrubs his forehead almost to the point of being raw. He manages to get almost all of the paint gone but traces of it remain in his beard.
“Them stitches don’t wash out and the scars that they leave behind will be a reminder for the rest of your life that you fucked with the wrong guy. You might have gotten one on me under the cover of darkness, spray a little paint on my face, but this right here…”
Sutton holds up his fist.
“Will be covered in your blood and it will take a army to get me off of you and preventing me from caving in your fucking face.”
Sutton tosses the paint stained paper towel in the sink and snatches up his Horizon championship. He glances at it before slinging it over his shoulder.
“Before someone who isn’t man enough to show his face signed his death warrant, I told you Christian that you wouldn’t beat me, that you wouldn’t get a shot at this and I exposed you to be a punk and a fraud in front of everyone out there today. You’re all talk and that the Power Trip is just a bunch of pussies. I planted your ass in middle of that ring and next week, when your buddy, Mike Smith and Nemesis…..”
“Nemesis dropped out of the match babe.” Lillie says. Sutton was unaware of this. He smirks.
“Really?”
“Bowed out so that leaves only Mike Smith.”
“Mike Smith outta follow Nemesis and spare himself the ass beating that I’m going to dish out next week. I was playing nice till now. People got me pissed off and shit…” Sutton says as he takes a step towards Lillie and the camera. “Now people are going to get hurt and hurt badly so you better take note of that Mike Smith.”
Sutton pulls open the door.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The scene opens up somewhere outside of Vegas in the desert in one of the many little scrap yards that dot the highways out in middle of nowhere. The NAW Horizon champion Sutton is sitting on a old rusted out, partially parted out John Deere tractor, a narrow front end 630. The trademarked green paint is all but sandblasted away over time and is very well sun baked. The belt is laying on the hood of the old 630 as Sutton is tapping his thumb on the lid of his can of chew.
“You know what Tuesday is? Well do you punk?” Sutton asks as he pops open the lid to his can of chew.
“Why it’s Valentine's day and while I have a big day planned out for my girl Lillie Mae, I have even a bigger day planned out for one Mike Smith.” Sutton says as he stuffs his bottom lip.
“And just like Lillie Mae, I’m going to treat Mike Smith special. I’m going to place him up on a pedestal and in this case that is the top turnbuckle and I’m going to make him feel like no one has ever made him feel, broken when I hit him with the Sutton Stunner from the top rope snapping his neck into little itty bitty pieces. I’m going to show you Mike nuttin’ but love….” Sutton spits some bacca juice out.
“I’m going to give you a good old fashioned passionate ass whoopin’ and walk out still being the NAW Horizon champion. That might break your heart Mike, but then again you should have taken a clue from Nemesis and bowed on out of this match but I get it. This is your chance to co main event the show. This is your time to dip your toes in the spotlight and get your name out there some. Just remember, that is all you’re doing, waving hi to the fans, soaking in your ten minutes or so in the spotlight, get your ass beat and roll on out under dat bottom rope and have the ref help your sorry ass back to the back cuz that is how your night is going to go.” Spits.
“At St. Valentine's day Massacre I’m going to send a statement to rest of your buddies in the power trip that I am not one to messed with, that when you see me steppin’ your way, you better slide on out of da way. And I’m going to tell who ever walks out with that there Legacy championship, that the only name you will need to concern yourself with is mine. You see, I’m in that tournament to crown the next contender to that belt and after looking at the list…”
Sutton glances down for a second or two. He spits and looks back up and smirks.
“I am the only the contender. That is a fact. Much how I’m going to beat your ass Mike Smith and it’s good thing you have a generic last name because after this match, no one will remember you cuz this right here…..”
Sutton scoops up the Horizon Championship. He slings it over his shoulder.
“And that Legacy championship, they both will be…”
Spits.
“Mine.”
Fade out.
The NAW Horizon Championship rests on the counter next to Sutton who is in the bathroom in front of the sink scrubbing the paint off of his face and he’s not looking happy about it either. The red spray paint is proving to be a bitch to get out of his beard. Lillie Mae is manning the camera.
“Who ever the dumb fuck was that did this…” Sutton says as he rips off another wad of paper towels from the roll. “You better hope that I never ever find your fucking ass cuz when I do….”
Sutton scrubs his forehead almost to the point of being raw. He manages to get almost all of the paint gone but traces of it remain in his beard.
“Them stitches don’t wash out and the scars that they leave behind will be a reminder for the rest of your life that you fucked with the wrong guy. You might have gotten one on me under the cover of darkness, spray a little paint on my face, but this right here…”
Sutton holds up his fist.
“Will be covered in your blood and it will take a army to get me off of you and preventing me from caving in your fucking face.”
Sutton tosses the paint stained paper towel in the sink and snatches up his Horizon championship. He glances at it before slinging it over his shoulder.
“Before someone who isn’t man enough to show his face signed his death warrant, I told you Christian that you wouldn’t beat me, that you wouldn’t get a shot at this and I exposed you to be a punk and a fraud in front of everyone out there today. You’re all talk and that the Power Trip is just a bunch of pussies. I planted your ass in middle of that ring and next week, when your buddy, Mike Smith and Nemesis…..”
“Nemesis dropped out of the match babe.” Lillie says. Sutton was unaware of this. He smirks.
“Really?”
“Bowed out so that leaves only Mike Smith.”
“Mike Smith outta follow Nemesis and spare himself the ass beating that I’m going to dish out next week. I was playing nice till now. People got me pissed off and shit…” Sutton says as he takes a step towards Lillie and the camera. “Now people are going to get hurt and hurt badly so you better take note of that Mike Smith.”
Sutton pulls open the door.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The scene opens up somewhere outside of Vegas in the desert in one of the many little scrap yards that dot the highways out in middle of nowhere. The NAW Horizon champion Sutton is sitting on a old rusted out, partially parted out John Deere tractor, a narrow front end 630. The trademarked green paint is all but sandblasted away over time and is very well sun baked. The belt is laying on the hood of the old 630 as Sutton is tapping his thumb on the lid of his can of chew.
“You know what Tuesday is? Well do you punk?” Sutton asks as he pops open the lid to his can of chew.
“Why it’s Valentine's day and while I have a big day planned out for my girl Lillie Mae, I have even a bigger day planned out for one Mike Smith.” Sutton says as he stuffs his bottom lip.
“And just like Lillie Mae, I’m going to treat Mike Smith special. I’m going to place him up on a pedestal and in this case that is the top turnbuckle and I’m going to make him feel like no one has ever made him feel, broken when I hit him with the Sutton Stunner from the top rope snapping his neck into little itty bitty pieces. I’m going to show you Mike nuttin’ but love….” Sutton spits some bacca juice out.
“I’m going to give you a good old fashioned passionate ass whoopin’ and walk out still being the NAW Horizon champion. That might break your heart Mike, but then again you should have taken a clue from Nemesis and bowed on out of this match but I get it. This is your chance to co main event the show. This is your time to dip your toes in the spotlight and get your name out there some. Just remember, that is all you’re doing, waving hi to the fans, soaking in your ten minutes or so in the spotlight, get your ass beat and roll on out under dat bottom rope and have the ref help your sorry ass back to the back cuz that is how your night is going to go.” Spits.
“At St. Valentine's day Massacre I’m going to send a statement to rest of your buddies in the power trip that I am not one to messed with, that when you see me steppin’ your way, you better slide on out of da way. And I’m going to tell who ever walks out with that there Legacy championship, that the only name you will need to concern yourself with is mine. You see, I’m in that tournament to crown the next contender to that belt and after looking at the list…”
Sutton glances down for a second or two. He spits and looks back up and smirks.
“I am the only the contender. That is a fact. Much how I’m going to beat your ass Mike Smith and it’s good thing you have a generic last name because after this match, no one will remember you cuz this right here…..”
Sutton scoops up the Horizon Championship. He slings it over his shoulder.
“And that Legacy championship, they both will be…”
Spits.
“Mine.”
Fade out.