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Date Posted: 23:59:14 05/15/02 Wed
Author: "X-treme" Lee Lethal
Author Host/IP: usr1-p113.cview.cybertron.com / 204.49.169.113
Subject: Can you hang with me?(My tryout RP)






.....Opportunity…the birth of a man’s Gladiator career is definitely an opportunity not to be taken lightly. Lee Lethal was busting his ass in the indies, working his way to stardom, and then came the injury. Lee hasn’t spoken of the injury since it’s occurrence. He isn’t very proud of his bicep tearing while holding a 300-lb. man suspended high in the air. However, in an ironic turn of events, stardom came knocking on Lethal’s door at the least expected moment. While nursing his injury, Lethal received that coveted letter. Upon reading the address, Lee was sent into a natural high. He tore open the letter without feeling his hands; read the first sentence without really knowing what was written. “We would be interested in…” The letter fell from his hands, a glazed look came over his eyes. This was the real beginning of his career. All the other accomplishments meant nothing…overshadowed by simply making it to the GWA. Yes, being hired by the GWA overrides any pathetic title reigns elsewhere. This is the pinnacle…Well, not really. As you’ll soon learn, there isn’t really a pinnacle.....

[The scene opens in Lee Lethal's training complex. Various weight benches line the walls, forming the perimeter of the makeshift wrestling ring that sits in the middle of the room. The room is full of Indy prospects, former comrades of Lethal. Heavy metal music blares in the background as the weights smash together between repetitions. A TV monitor is placed in one of the corners; it shows various headlines in wrestling news. A small crowd has gathered around it. Recent signees scroll across the bottom of the screen as the main focus is on the recent GWA title changes. A loud yell is sent up and a camera flashes as the names of Lee Lethal and Kira Benson briefly scroll across the screen. The attention shifts to the front door, as it swings open. A tall man clad in a black cutoff Tank top and white lifting shorts walks in carrying a duffel bag. Black sunglasses hide his eyes; his sculpted muscles bulge out of the ripped sleeves.]

Larry: Lee! Lee! Get over here! They had your name on the TV! You’re in man. You really made it!

[Someone shuts off the music as the rest of the wrestlers crowd around Lethal, patting him on the back and cheering. Someone jostles the bag and it falls to the floor. Papers spill all over the floor. The man who called to Lethal picks one up. Lethal tries to stop him, then flashes a smile instead.]

Larry: What’s this stuff?

[He pauses for a moment, glancing over the paper. The man utters his next words with a hint of fear.]

Larry: No..notice of termination? This is one of our health club contracts here. What do you mean termination, Lee? Terminated? We wouldn’t have anywhere to train.



Larry: Man, Lee, you had us worried there, I thought for sure you’d gone corporate and screwed us over. I’m glad it hasn’t gone to your head.

[Lethal continues to laugh, then takes off his glasses. Surprisingly his eyes are placid. No trail of emotion can be detected. Larry becomes nervous once more at the sign of that look. In the past, it has been a preemptive sign of danger from the man with the Violence Fetish.]

Lethal: I have.

Larry: Have what? Your contract with you?!? Come on, let us see it!

[Lethal shrugs his shoulders, then takes a piece of paper out of his sock. He unfolds it and holds it up in the air for all to see. This calls for another small cheer, but it doesn’t have the same feeling. Larry goes to grab on to it to take a closer look, but lethal quickly pulls it away.]

Lethal: In addition to having my contract, I’ve had all of yours here diced.

Larry: But Lee! You can’t do that to us! I’ve known you for five long years! I’ve been with you through rough times!

Lethal: Yes, I know. Now that it’s a good time, I don’t want you there with me. You can stick to your hard times; they suit you well. A man with as sloppy work ethic as you have should consider himself blessed just to get to see a GWA contract in person. It’s the closest you’ll ever get to greatness, and as of now, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to me. Those five years, well, they’ve earned you five minutes to get the hell out.

[Silence prevails throughout the room. The tension makes the air seem thick. Either that or the putrid smell of sweat. Several men scratch their heads, wondering what the deal is. Some know better, they’re already walking out the door. Larry simply stands there, a look of astonishment on his face. Lethal smiles, enjoying the fact that he’s shut the man up. Really, what can you say in response to that? Apparently actions speak louder than words, as Larry’s face twists into a horrible growl. He lunges forward, landing a savage blow to Lethal’s chin. A few men gasp, several more leave the room.]

Larry: You stupid prick! You want to turn your back on me?!?

[He takes another swing, this time his hand connects with nothing but air. His eyes lower to Lee, who is now squatting below him. His face is that of a man who can’t believe what has just happened. He is astounded that his plan could have a flaw, especially one so deadly. What he doesn’t realize is that there wasn’t just a flaw, his whole plan was whack.]

Larry: Ohhhh….

[He sags to his knees as Darvin pummels his stomach with fists of rage. Darvin raises himself to full height, standing tall over his downed opponent. He smirks as his hand dips and rises again, landing an uppercut with a loud thud. Larry is now lying on his back, whiping blood from his nose.]

Lethal: You were saying?

[Larry scrambles to his feet and caulks his fists. Thinking better of it, he runs to the door. It slams shut. Lethal is left alone; all the other men went during the fight.]

Lethal: Well, I’m glad that’s dealt with. Taking out the trash is a tedious chore…I need to hire a maid. Out with the old and in with the new, that’s a saying, isn’t it? More like out with the false sense of politeness, and in with the truth. Being the last of your kind is tough. Sometimes you must hide your true identity to survive. No more…there will be no more facades. I am the Last Great Smartass, and my Estimated Time of Arrival is the Here and Fucking Now. I am the Alpha and the Omega. The latter part is easy enough, the word is synonymous with ‘Last.’ The former will be learned in time. After an opponent is down and out from the Omega, they will know that "X-treme" Lee Lethalis the Alpha of the group. It’s simply natural selection: only the strong survive. The most ferocious of the pack eventually rises to prominence.

Sure, you may be thinking to yourselves, “Damn, this kid is already talking about his rise to prominence? We’ll teach him.” Go ahead, question my ability, but don’t make a fool of yourselves. I said eventually, I didn’t say instantly. Keep in mind however, that natural selection is eminent. The weak eventually fall victim to their own folly, paving the way for others to succeed. What drives a person to success? Is it fame, glory, money? All of those are nice things to have, but they don’t apply to my drive for success. My drive to success is fueled by desire. Desire to climb that proverbial mountain.

[Lethal pauses once again flashing the look in his eyes.]

That mountain has haunted me for the past five years. I’ve stumbled up the path with my back bent, eyes towards the ground. Toiling, sweating, bleeding just to get a higher foothold. You could be ignorant and say it was fruitless work. However, that would be false. Through all that labor, I have come to realize that it IS all for nothing. All the labor in the end is fruitless. You think I’m wrong? You say that the mountain does indeed have a summit? Yes, I am aware of the possibility of becoming world champion. However, you’re still not on the top when you win that prestigious title. There is always more to do. Defend your belt, prove to the world just how good you are. There is always that burning desire to become known as a legend, to do what no other man has done before. The drive to be unique makes it impossible to reach the top.

You know, just figuring that out should count as something. Putting together the puzzle when everyone else is just staring at individual pieces must mean something, right? Sure, you can go after the Hardcore title, or the Tag straps. You can center your attention on one piece of the puzzle, but will you ever be able to put it together? Will you ever be able to showcase the full potential of your talent? Well, not the potential. My goal does not involve potential. My football coach informed me of the true definition of “po-tential” as he put it, all those years ago. He said, “If someone ever tells you that you have po-tential, I want you to walk up to them and smack them across the face. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you that. It’s just a nice way of saying ‘boy, you may be good sometime in the future, but right now you reek of horseshit.’” You never really know the true meaning of something until it applies to yourself. People may think that I have potential…well they’re dead wrong. I have no ‘po-tential.’ I am the showcase of talent. I won’t promise to do something in the future, I won’t brag about something I’ve already done. My time is the present. I don’t put stock into how long you’ve been here, what titles you’ve held, or what you’re planning on doing in the future. I put my stock in a simple fact. As of now, this fact is unknown in the GWA. However, it will soon be answered with a mere question.

[Lethal stops, cracking his neck. He glances down at the duffel bag and smiles, then returns his focus to the camera. ]



[The camera zooms in on Lee’s face,
shaking his head. He finishes his promo where he left off…the question that will soon answer itself.]

"Can you hang with me?"

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