North board, roleplay 24

The Wrestling God tournament has been trying its damnedest to pull everyone involved into their studios for a five minute promo, letting everyone know who they are and what they're about. In some cases, the tournament sponsors have sent a camera crew out to some real life place to film one of those trendy "true to life" pieces.

"This is so fucking stupid."

Others - the wrestlers who have been in the sport for a while - are just as happy to simply go down to the temporary headquarters of the tournament officials - the Forum in Los Angeles.

"Why? You're good on the stick. You used to like doing these."

Still others, however... have other things on their mind.

"I don't mind speaking out, but don't ya think this time could be better spent getting ready for the match?"

Eli Flair is waiting impatiently for the elevator to come to the lobby - he's not very comfortable standing in the lobby of a building he's never been in before, dressed in full "King of Extreme" attire. It's his job, however - and Poison Ivy will continue to hammer this point home until his job is over.

His bag is slung over his shoulder - filled with a pair of cutoff sweatpants and his old, falling apart VANs. Nine seconds after this promo is finished he intends to change his clothes. He's sweating his ass off in long black wrestling tights, a "Original Team EXTREME" T-shirt with himself and former tag team partner Randy Harders on the front, and his black leather trenchcoat.

**DING** the elevator sounded as the two stepped on.

"Dig up anything on King yet?" asked Eli, "Two more days to go for me to figure out what this kid can do."

"Actually," began Ivy, her voice trailing off as she dug through her bag, "I did."

Withdrawing a small folder of papers, Ivy handed the entire bundle to Flair.

"Real name, Alec King," explained Ivy as Eli read along, "Got his first break in Extreme Pro Wrestling, beat Triple X for the secondary belt and Araknis for the top- level."

"Hold on," interrupted Eli, "He took Trip out?"

Ivy flashed him a smile, "Different Trip. Can't find anything on either titleholder but King was up there. Second runner up in P*WI's Rookie of the Year award, ranked #47 in the 500 last time he was on it. He used to be good."

"We all used to be a lotta things," mused Eli, "What's he bring to the table?"

"He was part of the last one of these tournaments... other than that... y'got me."

Eli leaned against the elevator wall, exhaling deeply as he looked up to the ceiling. "Is it just me, Ivy... or are we two getting careless in old age?"

"Hah! Speak for yourself," said Ivy, "I'm only 27... and I'll be around a hell of a lot longer than you."

"I'm thirty," countered Eli, "which gives you exactly three years more than me. Enjoy 'em."

"I plan to - be a chance to get some sleep for once."

The elevator doors slid open with another **DING** and Eli motioned for Ivy to lead the way. She led him to a small room at the end of the hall where a man with a camera awaited them.

"Hello, you must be---" began the man, looking at a clipboard, "Eli Flair. I'm just about set up here, so have a seat and get ready."

Eli just stared at him. The man was arranging some kind of professional lighting gear, motioning Flair toward a three- legged stool in front of a black backdrop.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Excuse me?" the man asked, confused.

"I think he means," explained Ivy, "that this isn't exactly the setup he's used to."

"That a fact? Well, by all means... adjust what you want."

Eli nodded his head in appreciation, taking off the trenchcoat. He sauntered over to the barstool and picked it up, testing its weight. All the while, Ivy took a step back, as if she was waiting for something.

The camera operator, sadly.... didn't even see it coming. Eli flung the barstool at the professional light setup as hard as he could, knocking it down and splintering the bulb.

"What are you doing?" cried the operator, "That's expensive equipment!"

Eli doesn't answer - he's pulled his hair from the rubber band holding it back, and it slaps him in the face - already soaked with sweat.

"I'll write ya a check," said Ivy, bemused, "For now, though.... you'd better roll the camera or he's likely to sweat on you or something."

The joke put the man at ease.... he needed that.

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"You have messed up
Can't do anything
And I have messed up
Can't do anything
You're just a fuckup
I'm just a fuckup
We're just two fuckups
At least we're fucked up together...."
-Coal Chamber, Beckoned

"Sixty- four of the best.... with one purpose in mind."

"Sixty- four of the brightest stars in the game today.... with one ultimate goal."

Eli Flair is standing in the corner of a bare room, leaning up against the two walls around him. His arms are folded across his chest and he has a smirk on his face, the tattoos that cover his upper body clearly visible from underneath his shirtsleeves and all the way down to his wrists.

"There's no money on the line in this little gathering.... so much the better. There's no title belt or guaranteed contract at the end of this little rainbow.... so much the better. The sixty- four men and women who are prepared to lay it all on the line for something much more important.... something much more vital to the continued existence of this great sport."

"Ego."

"Anyone who says they're in this tournament for anything other than the ego boost received by being crowned the winner is a fucking liar, plain and simple. Don't even try to deny it."

"We all want our name in lights, we all want to be told how great we are.... we all want to be told we'll be remembered forever. The problem lies in the fact that only one of us will make it there."

He pushes forward, taking a meandering stroll closer to the camera.

"Isn't it fortunate for me, then.... that I'm already there?"

"My first round opponent seems to be in a bit of trouble... as the information I've uncovered shows him as being a hot new prospect for a fledgeling promotion that unceremoniously shut down in the middle of his big push, leaving him with little to no options."

"Wouldn't it be great, King, to win this tournament and get your name back out there amongst the stars?"

"Wouldn't it be great.... to achieve something that the entire world is watching?"

"I hope you win, King... I really do. Gods know, you can use a victory over me a hell of a lot more than I can use one over you. You see.... as a twelve- time World Champion, including a decent run as the CSWA World Heavyweight Championship... my star is already assured. Add to that the fact that I was one third of the biggest coup in professional wrestling history at ANNIVERSARY 2000.... I have no doubt in my mind that they'll be talking about me for years to come."

"Can you say that? You can, King.... if you do me one better and pin my shoulders to the mat."

"I wish you the best of luck, King.... because if I lose this tournament, I'll still be 'Total Elimination' Eli Flair, the KING of EXTREME, the ORIGINAL NOBODY, and regardless of the number of people playing Follow the Leader with the risks I've taken in the ring.... nobody does it better."

"And if I win this tournament, I get to say that I'm the third Wrestling God."

Silence for a moment, as he appears to ponder this.

"Naaah, doesn't really change anything for me."

Eli takes another step toward the camera, grabbing the lens and pulling it right up to his face.

"Step up to the plate, King.... because this will be your only chance."

He spits into the camera lens and walks out of its line of sight.

FADE

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"Was it good for you?" asked Eli as he stepped away from the camera, "I think we got it."

"Perfect," replied Ivy, "Don't change a thing."

Eli laughed, grabbing his bag out of her hands, "Glad you approve... because I wasn't changing anything anyways."

He winked at her before leaving the room, presumably to find a place to change his clothes. The camera man is still standing in a stunned silence.

"What was that supposed to be?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ivy, confused.

"These guys are pretty intense so far.... but this guy was just crazy. He's gotta be the only one daring his opponent to beat him."

Ivy pulled her checkbook out of her bag and began to busily write across the next blank page. "You're used to dealing with gimmick wrestlers," she explained, "or guys who just don't know any better. Eli doesn't play any of those dumbass games."

"So I noticed."

Ivy handed him a check, and began to walk toward the door herself.

"Hold on a sec," called the camera guy, "You live around here?"

"Nope," replied Ivy, "I'm from New York. But I'm also very happy in a relationship."

"Ah. Gotcha."

"Go to the Valerian's Garden show at FTN tomorrow night," advised Ivy, "You'll meet some women there."

"Yeah," replied the camera guy, "Their singer's pretty hot, too."

"Watch it," said Ivy as the door closed behind her, "SHE'S taken, too."

The cameraman is left alone in the room, staring at a very generous check for his damaged equipment.... head still spinning over his encounter...

....With the King of Extreme.