Post by Syndicate on Jun 25, 2021 22:30:32 GMT -5
WENDY'S - LOS ANGELES, CA
JUNE 25TH, 2021 - 5:39PM
?: …what do you want from me?
The camera fades into a close-up shot of none other than the Los Angeles Outlaw himself, Syndicate, sitting in what appears to be a Wendy's restaurant. With the dimpled smile of Pippi Longstocking staring at him in the background, Syndicate - wearing a black V-neck with blue jeans and black Nike sneakers - stares blankly through the window next to his table. His arms crossed, the Los Angeles Outlaw seems completely disinterested in whatever conversation is happening at this moment.
?: …Syd, I just want your order. Dave's Single or Double?
The camera pans over to show the presence of Syndicate's wife, Sophie Irvine. Wearing a light blue t-shirt with tan capris, she stands next to the couple's table with her purse in-hand, looking a bit frustrated at her husband.
Syndicate: Double.
Sophie: Sounds good, be back in a sec.
She turns to leave, but as she does, Syndicate swivels around and yells over at her.
Syndicate: No tomato!
Sophie: Got it!
Satisfied, the Los Angeles Outlaw turns back in his chair and pushes back his long blonde hair with his right hand. In the background, we see a slim man wearing a pressed blue suit, with combed-over brunette hair and a graying beard, walking into the Wendy's while looking down at his phone. As he glances upward to see the menu, he seems to notice Syndicate out of the corner of his eye and immediately bounds over to him, a exuberant smile plastered across his chiseled face. This is JJ Kline, Syndicate's former co-worker at SportsMax and a family friend to the Irvines.
JJ: Hey, Syd! Fancy meeting you here!
Syndicate nods in JJ's general direction, acknowledging his presence, but says nothing more, instead choosing to continue staring out the window at the restless Los Angeles traffic. JJ Kline seems perplexed by this, but shrugs it off as he sits across from the Los Angeles Outlaw at the table.
JJ: Where's Soph, she around?
Syndicate: Yeah, she's ordering.
JJ: Let me guess, a Dave's Double, no tomato for ya? That's what you always had back at the agency.
JJ chuckles as Syndicate, again, chooses to say nothing.
JJ: Say, speaking of the agency, I faxed you those re-entry papers a few weeks ago but never got anything back. We were hoping you'd be able to start back up this month, we've got a whole slew of new talent just waiting to sign the dotted -
Syndicate: I'm not coming back to SportsMax.
JJ is stunned into silence by this statement, as he had assumed - quite rightfully, to be honest - that Syndicate would be coming back to his old sports agency job. Kline leans back in his chair and stares at Syndicate, immediately apprehensive.
JJ: ...what? Why not?
Before any more can be said, Sophie conveniently comes back with the Wendy's order - two Dave Double's, as JJ predicted - and sits down next to her husband, the Los Angeles Outlaw. Setting down the tray, she does a bit of a double take as she recognizes JJ.
Sophie: Oh my god, JJ! How's it going?
JJ: Oh, everything's great - hey, can I talk to you for a moment?
Sophie shoots a concerned glance over at Syndicate before a moment of realization hits her face, as she understands why JJ may be just a bit upset after encountering her husband for the first time in months. Breathing out a heavy sigh, she stands back up and nods towards the door to the restaurant.
Sophie: Sure, I left my phone in the car anyway - you good here, sweetie?
Syndicate: Whatever.
Sophie, rolling her eyes at her husband's attitude, motions for JJ to follow her, which he of course does - if for nothing else than to get away from the moody Los Angeles Outlaw. The camera follows the close friends outside, where they stop outside of the Irvines' crimson 2012 Chevy Cruze. Sophie Irvine leans against the trunk of the car and glances over at Syndicate through the Wendy's windows as he unwraps his double cheeseburger.
Sophie: So I assume he told you.
JJ: Soph, you've gotta tell him to take the contract. He'll be making double what he made before the pandemic last year, with optional remote work included in the proposal. He's getting a better deal than any other partner in the company, and he'd be stupid not to take it!
Sophie: You think I don't already know that, JJ? I read the contract, y'all did a great job giving him everything he'd ever want, but if he won't listen to me then he sure as hell won't listen to you. He's already got his heart set, and for someone like him, that's that.
JJ: And for what? Don't tell me he's going back into pro wrestling.
Sophie doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to - JJ Kline already knows the answer. Sighing, he pulls what appears to be a few aspirin pills out of the pocket of his suit jacket and pops them back. As he does, the camera re-focuses over at the Wendy's, where Syndicate can be seen staring out at Sophie and JJ with a look of disdain on his face. He knows what they're talking about, and he knows that they don't approve of his dealings with Project: Honor, but he doesn't care about that - they don't understand his position, and why would they? After all, they're just normal people...while he's the greatest professional wrestler on planet Earth.
The camera fades into a close-up shot of none other than the Los Angeles Outlaw himself, Syndicate, sitting in what appears to be a Wendy's restaurant. With the dimpled smile of Pippi Longstocking staring at him in the background, Syndicate - wearing a black V-neck with blue jeans and black Nike sneakers - stares blankly through the window next to his table. His arms crossed, the Los Angeles Outlaw seems completely disinterested in whatever conversation is happening at this moment.
?: …Syd, I just want your order. Dave's Single or Double?
The camera pans over to show the presence of Syndicate's wife, Sophie Irvine. Wearing a light blue t-shirt with tan capris, she stands next to the couple's table with her purse in-hand, looking a bit frustrated at her husband.
Syndicate: Double.
Sophie: Sounds good, be back in a sec.
She turns to leave, but as she does, Syndicate swivels around and yells over at her.
Syndicate: No tomato!
Sophie: Got it!
Satisfied, the Los Angeles Outlaw turns back in his chair and pushes back his long blonde hair with his right hand. In the background, we see a slim man wearing a pressed blue suit, with combed-over brunette hair and a graying beard, walking into the Wendy's while looking down at his phone. As he glances upward to see the menu, he seems to notice Syndicate out of the corner of his eye and immediately bounds over to him, a exuberant smile plastered across his chiseled face. This is JJ Kline, Syndicate's former co-worker at SportsMax and a family friend to the Irvines.
JJ: Hey, Syd! Fancy meeting you here!
Syndicate nods in JJ's general direction, acknowledging his presence, but says nothing more, instead choosing to continue staring out the window at the restless Los Angeles traffic. JJ Kline seems perplexed by this, but shrugs it off as he sits across from the Los Angeles Outlaw at the table.
JJ: Where's Soph, she around?
Syndicate: Yeah, she's ordering.
JJ: Let me guess, a Dave's Double, no tomato for ya? That's what you always had back at the agency.
JJ chuckles as Syndicate, again, chooses to say nothing.
JJ: Say, speaking of the agency, I faxed you those re-entry papers a few weeks ago but never got anything back. We were hoping you'd be able to start back up this month, we've got a whole slew of new talent just waiting to sign the dotted -
Syndicate: I'm not coming back to SportsMax.
JJ is stunned into silence by this statement, as he had assumed - quite rightfully, to be honest - that Syndicate would be coming back to his old sports agency job. Kline leans back in his chair and stares at Syndicate, immediately apprehensive.
JJ: ...what? Why not?
Before any more can be said, Sophie conveniently comes back with the Wendy's order - two Dave Double's, as JJ predicted - and sits down next to her husband, the Los Angeles Outlaw. Setting down the tray, she does a bit of a double take as she recognizes JJ.
Sophie: Oh my god, JJ! How's it going?
JJ: Oh, everything's great - hey, can I talk to you for a moment?
Sophie shoots a concerned glance over at Syndicate before a moment of realization hits her face, as she understands why JJ may be just a bit upset after encountering her husband for the first time in months. Breathing out a heavy sigh, she stands back up and nods towards the door to the restaurant.
Sophie: Sure, I left my phone in the car anyway - you good here, sweetie?
Syndicate: Whatever.
Sophie, rolling her eyes at her husband's attitude, motions for JJ to follow her, which he of course does - if for nothing else than to get away from the moody Los Angeles Outlaw. The camera follows the close friends outside, where they stop outside of the Irvines' crimson 2012 Chevy Cruze. Sophie Irvine leans against the trunk of the car and glances over at Syndicate through the Wendy's windows as he unwraps his double cheeseburger.
Sophie: So I assume he told you.
JJ: Soph, you've gotta tell him to take the contract. He'll be making double what he made before the pandemic last year, with optional remote work included in the proposal. He's getting a better deal than any other partner in the company, and he'd be stupid not to take it!
Sophie: You think I don't already know that, JJ? I read the contract, y'all did a great job giving him everything he'd ever want, but if he won't listen to me then he sure as hell won't listen to you. He's already got his heart set, and for someone like him, that's that.
JJ: And for what? Don't tell me he's going back into pro wrestling.
Sophie doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to - JJ Kline already knows the answer. Sighing, he pulls what appears to be a few aspirin pills out of the pocket of his suit jacket and pops them back. As he does, the camera re-focuses over at the Wendy's, where Syndicate can be seen staring out at Sophie and JJ with a look of disdain on his face. He knows what they're talking about, and he knows that they don't approve of his dealings with Project: Honor, but he doesn't care about that - they don't understand his position, and why would they? After all, they're just normal people...while he's the greatest professional wrestler on planet Earth.
VENICE BOULEVARD - LOS ANGELES, CA
JUNE 25TH, 2021 - 8:18PM
JUNE 25TH, 2021 - 8:18PM
After a brief interruption by black-and-white static, we cut to the image of Syndicate driving his Chevy Cruze down a crowded Los Angeles street. With one arm on the wheel and the other hanging out the window, Syndicate stares blankly ahead as the reflections of various businesses reflect across the Los Angeles Outlaw's Ray-Ban sunglasses. He seems a bit...out of it, not really reacting to anything happening around him as he drives alone.
Syndicate: I like to go on drives like this, just to clear my head a bit. No music, no distractions, nothing but the road and some jackasses with Nevada license plates tailgating me the whole way down.
The former nine-time World Champion - all of which gained prior to signing with Project: Honor, of course - comes to a stop at a red light. As a family of tourists excitedly crosses the street in front of him, Syndicate rubs his stubbled chin before continuing.
Syndicate: The "Clusterfuck" match. Hmm...funny. A childish name for a match that justifies the childish pursuits of my peers. You know, I tried to warn y'all what would happen if the Los Angeles Outlaw came to your neck of the woods, and look what happened. I tried to warn Terry Savage, and he ended up getting his ass beat soundly into the next millennium. And now, you, Mr. DeMarco, decide that it's a "good idea" to put the most dangerous man on your roster in a position to win one of your championships. Didn't quite think that one through, did you? Because now, you've got yourself a little problem, Mr. DeMarco - you've got a full blown situation on your hands. On July 1st, at Coliseo Cerrado in Peru, I'm gonna walk out there, stare your precious Ascension Champion in the eyes, and promptly choke that man out for the entire world to see. Once I'm done with him, he'll finally understand, just like Terry Savage understands, that the world of barfighting and backyard wrestling is so, so different to the world that I rule over with an iron fist. And then? You may as well deactivate the title, because you'll never see anyone else lay a finger on that Ascension Championship once it's fatefully wrapped around the waist of the Los...Angeles...Outlaw.
The traffic light finally turns green, and Syndicate speeds ahead, promptly turning into Venice Boulevard's right lane as he does so.
Syndicate: And while we're at it, let's just run down these other "competitors" that you've put in front of me, Mr. DeMarco. Rey de las Sombras, my so-called "partner" in this match? He calls himself the damn "King of Shadows", but yet he hides behind a mask to shield his own insecurities. You spend all your time hiding in the darkness, Rey, and that's the big difference between me and you - you wait for the "right" moment like Burr, whereas I strike while the iron is hot like Hamilton, and at Fallout, you'll see that the world just isn't wide enough for both you and I. Daniel Horror? First Ascension Champion, great job...too bad you couldn't hold the belt for more than two weeks. This isn't your division, and to be honest, it never was, so how about you kindly move out of the way for someone a bit more deserving of the Ascension Championship...someone that didn't spend last week peeling off his skin after burning it off in a dumpster.
Syndicate: Levi Kirstein. You know, I used to call myself a "God," just like you. I used to believe that I was a deity, bringing my peers into Valhalla with myself atop it all. But you know what I learned? Nobody gives a shit. What matters is what you do in that ring, and when it comes to professional wrestling, NOBODY can touch me - not you, and certainly not Kagome Akaibara. Former pop star, trying to make it in the wrestling business? Great. I'll make sure she's singing her way to a hospital bed. Meanwhile, Pandalike's just here to "hang out" and grab some cash? Come on - if you're not here, actively working towards being the best wrestler alive, then either walk back out that door or I'll throw you out of it, because you don't belong in the same ring as the Los Angeles Outlaw. Lesley Adora is a fuckin' televangelist, Curtis is too busy dealing with family drama to care about anything else, Bam Miller has decided it's a good idea to drink while on the job - Miller Lite, of all beers, Jesus - Layota Hixx wants to be a "role model" in professional wrestling, which is an oxymoron if I've ever heard of one, and Bezerk? Bezerk just needs to go outside for once in his life and touch some grass.
The Los Angeles Outlaw turns left onto Overland Avenue, refusing to stop ranting about his opponents.
Syndicate: You see the problem here? All of these people that I've listed off have their own problems, insecurities, and reasons why they will NEVER amount to anything in this business. And standing across from all of them, in this "Clusterfuck" that you, Mr. DeMarco, have so painstakingly put together...is the one man that stands above all others. The one man that truly deserves a spot at the table. The one man that is going to walk out of Fallout as your NEW Ascension Champion. But don't worry - by the end of the night, the rest of my peers will have "ascended" as well. Why? Because they will all share in the privilege of being in the ring with the biggest star that this business has ever seen...the Los...Angeles...Outlaw. Welcome...to the Syndicate.
With a cold, cold smile spread across his face, Syndicate stares straight ahead at the traffic in front of him as the shot is eaten up by black-and-white static.
Syndicate: I like to go on drives like this, just to clear my head a bit. No music, no distractions, nothing but the road and some jackasses with Nevada license plates tailgating me the whole way down.
The former nine-time World Champion - all of which gained prior to signing with Project: Honor, of course - comes to a stop at a red light. As a family of tourists excitedly crosses the street in front of him, Syndicate rubs his stubbled chin before continuing.
Syndicate: The "Clusterfuck" match. Hmm...funny. A childish name for a match that justifies the childish pursuits of my peers. You know, I tried to warn y'all what would happen if the Los Angeles Outlaw came to your neck of the woods, and look what happened. I tried to warn Terry Savage, and he ended up getting his ass beat soundly into the next millennium. And now, you, Mr. DeMarco, decide that it's a "good idea" to put the most dangerous man on your roster in a position to win one of your championships. Didn't quite think that one through, did you? Because now, you've got yourself a little problem, Mr. DeMarco - you've got a full blown situation on your hands. On July 1st, at Coliseo Cerrado in Peru, I'm gonna walk out there, stare your precious Ascension Champion in the eyes, and promptly choke that man out for the entire world to see. Once I'm done with him, he'll finally understand, just like Terry Savage understands, that the world of barfighting and backyard wrestling is so, so different to the world that I rule over with an iron fist. And then? You may as well deactivate the title, because you'll never see anyone else lay a finger on that Ascension Championship once it's fatefully wrapped around the waist of the Los...Angeles...Outlaw.
The traffic light finally turns green, and Syndicate speeds ahead, promptly turning into Venice Boulevard's right lane as he does so.
Syndicate: And while we're at it, let's just run down these other "competitors" that you've put in front of me, Mr. DeMarco. Rey de las Sombras, my so-called "partner" in this match? He calls himself the damn "King of Shadows", but yet he hides behind a mask to shield his own insecurities. You spend all your time hiding in the darkness, Rey, and that's the big difference between me and you - you wait for the "right" moment like Burr, whereas I strike while the iron is hot like Hamilton, and at Fallout, you'll see that the world just isn't wide enough for both you and I. Daniel Horror? First Ascension Champion, great job...too bad you couldn't hold the belt for more than two weeks. This isn't your division, and to be honest, it never was, so how about you kindly move out of the way for someone a bit more deserving of the Ascension Championship...someone that didn't spend last week peeling off his skin after burning it off in a dumpster.
Syndicate: Levi Kirstein. You know, I used to call myself a "God," just like you. I used to believe that I was a deity, bringing my peers into Valhalla with myself atop it all. But you know what I learned? Nobody gives a shit. What matters is what you do in that ring, and when it comes to professional wrestling, NOBODY can touch me - not you, and certainly not Kagome Akaibara. Former pop star, trying to make it in the wrestling business? Great. I'll make sure she's singing her way to a hospital bed. Meanwhile, Pandalike's just here to "hang out" and grab some cash? Come on - if you're not here, actively working towards being the best wrestler alive, then either walk back out that door or I'll throw you out of it, because you don't belong in the same ring as the Los Angeles Outlaw. Lesley Adora is a fuckin' televangelist, Curtis is too busy dealing with family drama to care about anything else, Bam Miller has decided it's a good idea to drink while on the job - Miller Lite, of all beers, Jesus - Layota Hixx wants to be a "role model" in professional wrestling, which is an oxymoron if I've ever heard of one, and Bezerk? Bezerk just needs to go outside for once in his life and touch some grass.
The Los Angeles Outlaw turns left onto Overland Avenue, refusing to stop ranting about his opponents.
Syndicate: You see the problem here? All of these people that I've listed off have their own problems, insecurities, and reasons why they will NEVER amount to anything in this business. And standing across from all of them, in this "Clusterfuck" that you, Mr. DeMarco, have so painstakingly put together...is the one man that stands above all others. The one man that truly deserves a spot at the table. The one man that is going to walk out of Fallout as your NEW Ascension Champion. But don't worry - by the end of the night, the rest of my peers will have "ascended" as well. Why? Because they will all share in the privilege of being in the ring with the biggest star that this business has ever seen...the Los...Angeles...Outlaw. Welcome...to the Syndicate.
With a cold, cold smile spread across his face, Syndicate stares straight ahead at the traffic in front of him as the shot is eaten up by black-and-white static.
