Deadline is Tuesday, September 17th, 11:59 PM EST
No extensions will be given this round.
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Deadline is Tuesday, September 17th, 11:59 PM EST
No extensions will be given this round.
The camera turns on and we see the unusual sight of Milenko completely alone kneeling in front of a stone alter with the crystal skull sitting in the middle of it set up in the center of the big top. He lights the candles around the skull and in the light it can be seen he's not wearing any face paint.
"The Great" Milenko: Master your plan is coming to fruition. With my recent win against Titus and my commanding victory against Vlad Azarov I can almost smell the fear coming off of everyone in the locker room.
After Milenko is silent a disembodied voice thst can only belong to The Wraith is heard throughout the tent.
The Wraith: คุณทำได้ดีมากจนถึงตอนนี้ลูกของฉัน โลกทั้งโลกเริ่มที่จะเรียนรู้ว่าความกลัวที่แท้จริงค ืออะไร. (You have done well so far my child. The entire world is starting to learn what true fear is.)
Somehow able to understand the words coming from the air Milenko prostrates himself in the dirt before the altar before saying anything else.[/color]
"The Great" Milenko: Thank you Master. What will you have me do next to sow terror into the hearts of the WZCW locker room.
The Wraith: ถัดไปคุณจะพบกับผู้มาใหม่ด้วยชื่อของ เขาไม่ได้ตระหนักถึงความจริงข้อนี้ แต่ฉันใช้เขาทำให้เกิดความกลัวในหัวใจของผู้คนในคลีฟ แลนด์เท่าที่จะทำได้. เมื่อเขาได้รับการปล่อยตัวจากคุกเขาหันหลังให้กับว่า เขาเป็นใครและไปทำงานกับ ใน. (Next you will face a newcomer by the name of Mr. Jones. He is not aware of this fact but I used him to cause as much fear in the hearts of the people of Cleveland as he could. When he got released from prison he had turned his back on who he was and went to work for Ty Burna in WZCW.)
[Color=red]"The Great" Milenko: I thought the name was familiar Master. I remember seeing him in the locker room. Beating him won't be a problem.
The Wraith: คุณเป็นลูกศิษย์ที่ฉันชอบ แต่อย่าประมาทโจนส์ หากได้รับการเปิดใด ๆ เขาจะใช้มัน. (You are my favored disciple but do not underesrimate Jones. If given any opening he will take it.)
"The Great" Milenko: Of course my Master. Forgive me my excitement.
The Wraith: ในขณะที่มันจะไม่ง่ายกับสิ่งที่คุณได้เรียนรู้ที่เท้ าของฉันคุณจะเอาชนะเขาและคุณจะดำเนินการต่อไปตามเส้น ทางที่ฉันวางไว้ที่เท้าของคุณ. (While it will not be easy with what you have learned at my feet you will defeat him and you will continue on the path I have laid at your feet.)
"The Great" Milenko: My life is yours to do with what you will Master.
As the camera fades out Milenko stands up and caresses the crystal skull and reverently blows out the candles plunging the tent into darkness.
The scene opens to a penthouse suite, bottles of champagne scattered all over the tables and furniture, as bass from the music playing vibrates the walls. The camera pans around, revealing Mr. Jones lying in bed with three girls pressed up against him. Mr. Jones has a cigar in his mouth, and a bottle of champagne in one hand.
Mr. Jones: See now ain't this the mo'fucking life? High rises, fine champagne, Cuban cigars, and of course you little fine ass mamacitas.
The girls around him giggle as one of them reaches up and runs her hand along his forearm before grabbing the bottle from him and taking a drink from the bottle. She passes it off to the other two who take turns drinking from it as well. Mr. Jones grins as he leans his head back as the three women begin massaging him all over.
Mr. Jones: Yessssssir, y'all knew I'd be back in the fold at WZCW, and the contract they gave me? Fat as a mo'fucka. The paper stacks going high as can be from here on out. Come on ladies, let's celebrate.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The scene suddenly changes to a basic low income apartment, Mr. Jones lying in bed alone as his face makes rather....awkward motions, puckering his lips out before a screech of a cat outside the window is heard. Mr. Jones sits straight up, looking around frantically.
Mr. Jones: Yooo where the honeys go? Ah god damn it. Just a dream.
He slides over and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his one good eye before stretching and yawning loudly. He looks over at his alarm clock, slamming down hard on the button before getting up. We soon go through a montage of Mr. Jones and his morning routine, up to and including singly horrendously in the shower. We find him in the kitchen, opening the freezer and staring inside.
Mr. Jones: Fuuuuck, I forgot to pick up the chocolate chip waffles. Guess we hittin' up the diner for breakfast. Don't suppose 'Rone's got any time to meet up nowadays. He prolly finna go flying around with Battie for the cause and all that shit.
Just then his phone rings, a song that cannot be repeated without making this X rated by any means of the imagination. He grabs the phone and answers.
Mr. Jones: Mr. Jones speaking, what's good? Yeah? South America for my first match? Fo' sho fo' sho. I'm down wit it. I ain't got no parole anymore so I ain't handcuffed to 'Rone. Ay' good looking out. I see the tickets in my email, finna pick me up some fine Brazilian mamas. Ecuador? Nah ain't ever heard of that town in Brazil. Columbia? Ain't that the company that use to slang them CDs that was like thirty for a dollar that no self respecting mo'fucka would actually pay up? Ight ight, I'll grab my bags and head out.
Mr. Jones hangs the phone up and rushes to his room, quickly packing and basically throwing whatever clothes he's got in his bag. He rushes out the door of his apartment and into the hallway when he nearly knocks over an elderly lady. He catches her before falling down, helping her back to her feet.
Mr. Jones: Mrs. Smith I am so sorry ma'am. I just got word I gotta head out for work!
Mrs. Smith: Why that's wonderful dear, did you get a job at the factory. You know my husband worked there for forty years before the black lung got him.
Mr. Jones: No Mrs. Smith, I'm talkin' bout wrestling.
Mrs. Smith: Oh my, that reminds me of my grandson. He lettered in high school. You should meet him, he's a very handsome man.
Mr. Jones: I'm sure he's a fine upstanding citizen Mrs. Smith, but what does him being handsome have anything to do wit.....oh....
Mrs. Smith smiles sincerely at Jones who's shaking his head.
Mr. Jones: I'm so sorry Mrs. Smith, but I don't swing that way ya dig?
Mrs. Smith: What's that about a swing? I think you're too big for one of those.
Mr. Jones: No I mean, you know what, I think you're right Mrs. Smith. Now I do apologize but I gotta get to the airport.
Just then Jones' stomach growls loudly.
Mrs. Smith: Oh dear, you haven't ate today have you?
Mr. Jones: No ma'am.
Mrs. Smith: Why don't you come over and I'll make you a homemade breakfast. I don't get to cook much since Walter passed away.
Mrs. Smith eyes cast down at the ground as Mr. Jones checks his watch, then notices the look on her face. He slumps down a bit before patting Mrs. Smith on the shoulder.
Mr. Jones: You know what Mrs. Smith, I think I got time for that.
Mrs. Smith's face immediately brightens as she nods her head to him. She leads him to her apartment as the scene fades away. It soon returns to Mr. Jones rushing to board an airplane, soon finding his seat in economy, and getting himself cramped, his knees pressed up against the seat in front of him.
Mr. Jones: Mo'fucka's couldn't even spring for business class for me? God damn.
He sighs as he tries to get comfortable as he can, his eyes closing when suddenly he's pushed forward a bit. The sounds of a child kicking his seat can be heard, and he struggles to look back behind him.
Mr. Jones: Ma'am could you tell yo kid to knock it off?
The woman holding the unruly kid looks at Mr. Jones and furls her nose at him, not even bother responding. Mr. Jones sighs as he turns around and suddenly the guy next to him starts to snore loudly, suddenly slumping over against Jones' shoulder.
Mr. Jones: Man get off me!
He shrugs the guy off who bounces up and then right back down onto his shoulder. Jones grits his teeth but shakes his head in forfeit. He grabs his earphones and puts them in, leaning his head back as the kid behind him kicks away, and the man snores next to his ear. The scene starts to fade away and returns several hours later outside the airport in Lima. Mr. Jones walks out carrying his loan bag as he looks around, a tired smile on his face.
Mr. Jones: Hell to the yes we finally fuckin' here in Brazil! Time to hit the beach, see if the women enjoy those waxes they got here, and see if my Portuguese is any good.
Jones begins calling out in Portugue, asking how to catch a ride around town. All the locals look at him like he's a complete moron, leaving a confused look on his face.
Mr. Jones: Man what the fuck? Ain't it supposed to be warm as a mo'fucka in Brazil? Why is it only 60 degrees out?
???: Because you're in Peru you idiot.
Jones turns around to see a familiar blonde bombshell interviewer leaning against a car. Jones shakes his head as he walks over to Stacey Madison.
Mr. Jones: Well well well, if it ain't Ms. Madison. Long time no see girl.
Stacey: Hasn't been long enough if you ask me Jones.
Mr. Jones: So what, you my ride then?
Stacey: That depends, you going to hit on me the whole ride to the hotel?
Mr. Jones: I mean.....yeah?
Stacey sighs as she motions for Jones to get in the car.
Stacey: At least you're honest about it.
Jones hops in the car and Stacey takes off, winding through the roads of Lima as Jones looks out the window.
Mr. Jones: Crazy man, never thought I'd be traveling the world on my own like this.
Stacey: You get used to it.
Mr. Jones: I know we was flying all over last year, but it still takes some getting used to. Especially being stuck in Cleveland the last few months.
Stacey: You're a full time member of WZCW now Jones, so why not practice up on your interview skills?
Mr. Jones: Fire away.
Stacey: So your first opponent is a WZCW veteran, Milenko. Any concerns coming into this match as a rookie?
Mr. Jones: Nah the way I look at it, he finna find out what makes a man like me tick. See he wants to play pretend like he's got his My Chemical Romance on like it's 2003, but he ain't nothing more than a paperweight version of Tyrone when he was doing his emo shit back in the day. Burna was legitimately fucking horrifying, this dude looks like he seen the back of a Hot Topic too many times.
Stacey: Even so, you've never competed in a WZCW ring before, not even an independent show or anything. Are you even trained in wrestling?
Mr. Jones: Why I gotta be trained? I fought in prison for years before I got out. Knocked out mo'fuckas left right and center that finna step up to me. WZCW ain't gon' be any different Stacey.
Stacey: You know you can't say that on TV.
Mr. Jones: They got a fucking mute button and know how to use it.
Stacey: Final question, Kingdom Come is right around the corner, do you have anything in mind since you just joined WZCW as a competitor the show before?
Mr. Jones: Fuck man, I'll do whatever. Make sure I get paid because I gotta make sure my momma's heat stays on this winter. Look, I know I gotta earn my spot around here. Just because I was the manager to the GOAT doesn't mean I get to waltz in and get a title shot. Just like when we was growing up, we had to earn everything we got in the streets. Always stayin' hungry, because if we weren't, we were finna go hungry. Ain't no different here. I'm grateful for the opportunity they giving me. It's my one shot to make it without relying on someone else for a change, and if it don't work out, then I'm finding the next opening at the factory down the street from my apartment, and I'll grind my way up from there again. Milenko's a veteran, but he ain't starving like I am. I waited a long mo'fuckin time for this to happen, and I ain't gonna fall flat on my face when that spotlight hits ya boy.
Stacey: Not bad Jones, clean up the language and you'll do fine.
Mr. Jones: Man fuck that, it's part of my charm.
Stacey rolls her eyes as they pull up to the hotel. Mr. Jones climbs out with his bag as Stacey looks out the window.
Stacey: I need to head to the arena, I'll see you there Jones.
Stacey takes off as Jones nods his head, confidence swelling up inside of him. He turns towards the hotel when it suddenly dawns upon him.
Mr. Jones: Shit, Stacey! How the fuck am I supposed to check in? I don't know any Spanish!
The scene fades out.