Author:
Steve "The Judicator" Richtor
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Date Posted: 22:41:10 12/29/00 Fri
The camera opens up to what appears to be a sitting room. There are a few ornate, polished wooden chairs…each with a companion table. A few lamps scattered across the room give it the increasingly familiar soft yellow/orange light. The camera pans across the room, giving no pause. A few old maps and a window are on the wall, nothing more. On a few tables, there are ashtrays and a few small statues which look to be originating from Ancient and Feudal China. The camera continues to pan until it reaches a man standing. It is Steve “The Judicator” Richtor. Richtor is resting his arm against a black oak dresser, which has a bust of Edward I and a statue of Lucius Flavius Silva, armored in a full legionaire dress outfit. Richtor fingers and dusts off that statue a little, before resetting it in place. Richtor himself is wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans. However, Richtor appears to still be showing signs of his injuried sustained at Painkiller, with a couple of bandages over his head, an arm covered in gauze, and a finger cast on the ring finger of his left hand. Richtor fixes his glasses in place and looks towards the camera. Richtor speaks in a light, and almost chatty tone.
Richtor: Greetings everyone. Well, it seems that the Unhardcore Icon has been dethroned finally. Dethroned by a madman and his dreams for bringing back the dark forces that I have kept at bay for so long long. A man, know as Jack Seishent in his debut match against me for my Hardcore Title. Well, what can I say about that match? Can I say that perhaps deep down I when I saw Jack I was reminded of myself in my debut match for the Hardcore Title? Perhaps I wanted a real challenge and the best way to do that is to put the odds heavily on the other side and start from rock bottom. Or maybe it is because I have finally decided to move on from the Hardcore division and pursue sweeter dreams that have been entering my mind.
Sure, I can go on and make all sorts of lame excuses about the how’s and why’s of my defeat… my first real singles defeat of sorts. All sorts of twistings and variations of the truth… but none of that is so lame as to how Jack Seishent actually went about defeating me.
(Richtor holds up his hands in defense with a innocent look on his face)
Richtor: No! No! This excuse isn’t going to point the blame at the referee, the match, my health… or anything else. This blame is put on me… You see, Seishent is right, I did estimate him wrong. I was foolish in my thinkings when I originally took stock of him and measured his worth in the ring. Yes… I estimated badly… Yes, I overestimated Jack Seishent to the point where it cost me dearly. I overestimated the man in thinking that perhaps maybe… just maybe he would have the potential and the skills to defeat me one on one. But I was so wrong… and that led to me not expecting an otherwise not-so surprising attack on me by the Sandman. I mean, how could I have not seen that coming?
(Richtor shakes his head in disbelief)
Richtor: Yes, I was foolish enough into thinking that perhaps that title match of Jack Seishent, his debut match, would be a nice measure to gauge him by. I thought that Jack Seishent would impress us all with his ring ability and make the people “ooh” and “ahh” for him as well as maybe have a few boys in the back nod in approval and ponder how far he will go. But what I got was some scared little boy who found out that he was overmatched by the Judicator, and so called on the Sandman to cement his win in what was a hopeless situation for him. Honestly, Jack! Why would you start your title reign… not to mention your AODWF career on such a sour note? (Richtor shakes his head slowly) A shady start to what is looked on as a dubious career for you. But hey, it is your life, after all…
But what really irks me is that you seem to think that without the Sandman’s hand, you had me beat… whether it be ideogically or physically. If it is physically you are thinking of, well then I suggest you turn your forgetful little mind back to the match we had… and back to Pain Staker’s office. It was there that I had YOU beat, sir, but thanks to the meddlings of Pain Staker I was denied my victory. But that is not an isolated incident either! Time after time… pin after pin… I had you without my grasp, only to have my prize slapped out of my hand before my very eyes.
Now, if you are referring to an ideological victory… the infamous “bong incident” where I hit you with the official AODWF bong, I think we had better clear up a few details. One, I did not mean to hit you with that, Jack… I really do not need glass objects to deal with the likes of you. So when you state that I intentionally hit you with that… you are obviously blind to my intentions. Think of where that bong was, Jack! It was on the rampway to the ring itself! Now how could I knowingly leave a half-broken piece of glass for some other wrestler to walk out on and slice his foot open? That would not be very noble of me… So there I went to innocently pick the bong up and toss it away… when you had to stick your fat head in the way! Literally! You have nobody to blame but yourself for that, Jack. If you had just waited a second longer we would have been rid of that filthy object and continued on with my trouncing of you. Manipulated me? (Richtor laughs) What a stupid conclusion you have made.
But you know what? No hard feelings, Jack. Because you know and I know that the Sandman and the Sandman alone was the reason for your victory. And that little ride of yours helped me more than hurt me. It allowed me to take some time off for the holidays and realize that I have much bigger fish to fry then some little twerp like you. So keep my belt and take my division… take it all! You say you will be a Hardcore Champion for life? That’s fine, because Hardcore wrestling will be your death, Jack! Maybe you haven’t quite realized it yet… but you are bringing yourself closer and closer to a painful early retirement with these silly antics of yours. And what will you when you have to take your last paycheck and go home to a rotting house because you couldn’t wrestle after five years? What will you do when while you are sulking at home, notice that I am STILL collecting the big bucks and STILL wrestling well and strong long after your time? The Unhardcore way may not be as glorious… or goryious, but it is the solid way that will last much longer than you and this fad we call hardcore. Technical wrestling started this business and made it great, and by god it will also be there when wrestling is ancient and the thing of legends. They will remember the people who made this sport great and people like me who kept it from falling into disrespect… but will they remember you? People who take insane risks are a dime a dozen, friend. You can just about flip on any channel of the television… even the animal planet channel, and see that there is always someone else who will do a crazy stunt for a cheap buck
But the people who rise above the rabble… the people who have taken the mission to preserve wrestling as a sport and continue on down the way of the Technical Tradition… well, there people are not so common. And it will be these crusaders that will be called great one day and go down in the annals of history as giants among men.
(Richtor sweeps his hand dismissively across his chest.)
Richtor: So I say keep that belt, I don’t want it anymore! Keep it for as long as you can and enjoy the fun and games that go with it. Soon… very soon you will see just how right I am. Maybe even as soon as Waysted, where the rag tag team of Paul Hook, Omega, and you take on three of the greats of the AODWF, Pain Staker, Death Watch, and myself, the Judicator.
(Richtor walks away from the dresser and across the room, across to where he can stand in front of a painting of a “hedge knight” in a tourneyment defeating the champions and nobles.)
Richtor: Yes, the main event of Waysted… a position I have jockeyed a long time for with almost everyone else here in the AODWF. Champion… Montana… Panther… Men who I have fought with to gain dominance over and respect in the AODWF. Men who, like me, have worked long and hard to one day be classified as a “main eventer”. And now… now I have succeeded where they have failed. I have managed to become worthy enough to be chosen to fight alongside two world champions… one current, one former. My greatest moment so far… one that fills me with a deep sense of pride and achievement. It will be a great night… a night for our team and a perfect battle for me to celebrate my new status. But who do I have to share this moment of triumph with on the other team? You… Paul Hook… and OMEGA? Gods above! Why must the fates play such a cruel jape on me!
I mean… who am I really facing, Jack? You, who has already become a disgrace, a joke… and a complete farce! But I have already vented on you… it is Omega’s turn now. Omega, the man who doesn’t even grant me the courtesy to include me in his verbal attacks. I find that quite amusing since it was you who fled from the AODWF when you learned of your match with me. Perhaps your impending defeat was too much for you to bear… perhaps you actually do have a reason. But nevertheless we are going to fight this time around, Omega, and there is going to be no running this time from you! You know, I can’t believe at one time I respected you… you know, before you joined the Allied Farces, before you just skipped out of my match, and before you left entirely only to come back less than a month later… Come to think of it, it is pretty difficult to see how I could have respected you… Actually, did I ever? No matter.
And now Paul Hook… the man everyone is just supposed to be SO impressed with. HA! What is there to be impressed with? A man who cannot decide where the greener pastures are, so he just keeps hopping from one federation to another until he finally gets what he wants. Well, I hope he is happy… because he has come back to a slaughter en masse of his associates and himself. Well, I guess that in a way I am impressed considering he is knowingly marching into his defeat with such stoic grace. I mean, if I was in Paul Hook’s shoes and I knew what was going to happen come Wednesday… most likely I would be finding some way to ditch Pissant and UGHmega as quickly as possible. (Richtor claps his hands) But I commend you stalwart resolution at any rate, Mr. Hook. It is unusual in this day and age to find a man who goes through with his responsibility no matter what the cost to his own body.
(A phone rings in the background. Richtor scowls and reaches off camera for a cordless phone.)
Richtor: Hello? (pause) Boyer? Boyer, I told you not to call me at this time, I am trying to run a promo here! (pause) Well I know you may need it bad but I am kind of busy right now… (pause) No, I will be done in just a few minutes. (pause) Listen, don’t you know any OTHER people who carry around some spare ammonia? (pause) No? Well… you are just going to have to wait then! (pause, Richtor sighs) Alright, alright… but don’t you get mad now if I decide to interrupt you during your “commishioner” routines asking for your boots. (pause) Hey, don’t blame me, they are nice boots! (pause) Alright, alright… hey, by the way, what happened to that ammonia I dropped in the hall during Painkiller that you took? (pause) I see… (pause) Ok, ok… I will be there in a sec. (pause) Right… (pause) Ok, no need to get snippy! (Richtor hangs up the phone) Well, my friends and foes… looks like I am going to have to cut this promo a little short. I will see you all shortly, shortly when I prove to everyone in this federation that I have what it takes to play games with the big boys. When I… (Richtor looks at his watch) Ah, have to run! Until next time!
Richtor darts out of the room and the scene ends.
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