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So many questions, so few answers
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Topic Started: Nov 4 2012, 10:37 PM (125 Views)
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Jack Erickson
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Nov 4 2012, 10:37 PM
Post #1
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- Posts:
- 2,173
- Group:
- Hall of Fame
- Member
- #207
- Joined:
- March 10, 2011
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The scene opens inside of the Diamonds in the Club locker room. The room is dark, only illuminated by a small table lamp in the corner of the room. A shadow is seen next to the lamp, just outside of the arrays of the light. As the shadow moves, a man’s face, now recognized as Jack Erickson is seen. Erickson readjusts himself so his whole body is now visible. Erickson is looking down at three framed photographs, and starts to shake his head slowly, his breathing turning into more of a sigh. The camera adjusts itself to behind Erickson and reveals the photographs. Each framed picture was of Erickson after he had won each one of his tag-team championships. Erickson was looked at as the most successful tag-team wrestler in NEW history, winning the tag-titles three times within his first year in the industry. Erickson puts down the photographs on the table and lowers his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair. Erickson sighs deeply and sits back up. Erickson pulls out a bottle of Scotch from the shadows and brings the bottle up to his lips. He takes a few swigs, and slams the bottle down. He coughs, and his eyes become watery-eyed.
“Damn that’s good stuff.”
Erickson is clearly frustrated, as he gets up and starts to pace in front of the lamp, in and out of the shadows. He grabs the bottle of scotch and takes a few sips every now and then. Erickson lets out a grunt, and begins to talk to himself. “Get it together Erickson, you are better than this. Look where you were last time this year, a tag-team champion. But look where you are now, the bottom of the barrel.”
Erickson looks over the photos and shakes his head in disbelief.
“I should still be the tag-team champion. I was only a three time champion because my teammates always found a way to lose the titles, so I had to think of way to win them back. I might as well just wrestle in handicap matches every week; I wouldn’t lose as much that way. I put the tag-team division on my back, it was nothing without me.”
Erickson slaps himself in the face, trying to snap himself out of it.
“How hard is it to find a decent partner around here? Reno Taylor? Fucking psycho. Raymond Hughes, should have stayed in New Zealand. If I had a decent partner, I would still be champion, and wouldn’t be in the place I am now. What about Raw? What about Romeo Stylez? Are they the partners I have been looking for this whole time? Are they strong enough to challenge for the tag-team titles for the record breaking fourth time? No, fuck them. They would just get in my way again, and cost me more matches.”
Erickson sees a metal folding chair out of the corner of his eye.
“Betsy. She was a real teammate. She always had my back. How can a folding chair be a better teammate than a real fucking person? I need a replacement, someone that can fill Betsy’s shoes.”
Erickson looks up on the wall of the locker room and sees a banner with Raw and Romeo Stylez’s picture on it.
“No, I am a singles competitor now, and a great one at that. No one thought I would be successful, they all thought I should stay in the tag-team division. The doubt filled my veins with determination. I knew I could do it, and I knew attacking Disturbed, the monster of NEW would show everyone that I am a force to be reckoned with. He got his revenge, I knew that would happen. But I got the last laugh, I put the monster in his place and showed everyone that not only I, but the Diamonds in the Club were a force in NEW. But then…”
Erickson takes a long chug of Scotch and throws the bottle across the room, smashing onto the back of the door, sending glass and liquor flying through the air.
“Where did it all go wrong? I had everything. The money, the championships, the girls, the teammates, wins. But now I have nothing. I had two opportunities to become the North American Champion, TWO of them, and I couldn’t cash in on either. All I had to do was beat my own teammate Romeo. I knew every move he had, how could I miss such an opportunity? I let that one go, because I knew I would walk out of Fear Itself a champion. Of course I knew it would be a little harder because of more competition, but I need this win, I needed gold around my waist. But I failed, not only did I fail myself, but I failed my stable, and I failed my fans. Not only did I lose, but I let the new champion pin me to claim the title, how fucking pathetic.”
Erickson continues to pace, becoming irate at himself.
“Now where am I? A qualifying match for the six-pack match for the World Title? Hell, I can’t even win the North American title, do they really think I should be anywhere near a qualifying match? I don’t. They put me up against the former World Champion, Priest. A man who I have had a past with. He was one of my biggest competitors in the tag-team division, and now look where we are now. Am I wasting my time here? Why am I in this match? Should I go back to the tag-team division? Who would be my partner? Should I go after the title that was in my fingertips, or should I carry on and try to become the World Heavyweight Champion? So many questions, and I have so few answers. But what I do know, is that Priest stands in my way of answering these questions."
The scene fades leaving Erickson pacing in his locker room.
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