Post by The Brothers Holland on Nov 24, 2010 15:08:53 GMT -6
What do you know Charlie?
You do a lot of talking...
A lot of thinking...
Until recently I thought you were one of the greats...
Maybe as good as me...
No longer.
Because I now see...
I now understand...
Underneath all your words...
All your bravado...
You know Nothing.
*We see a huge pair of double doors. At the moment there's nothing else but we can hear several things around us. The distant sound of footsteps. One set heavy, the other light. The murmur of the voices that accompany them, one deep and masculine, the other light and feminine. And above it all, the sound of violence. the distant thuds and pounds of someone laying into a punchbag.*
*We see a fist slam into a punch bag, followed by a hard elbow. We cut back to the double doors as suddenly as we cut away from them. The doors burst open, thrust by Milo Holland who slows up to resume walking alongside Melanie Holland-Black. They talk as they walk, their conversation interspersed with the man at the punch bag.*
Mel: I'm worried Milo.
Milo: Why? What's he doing?
*A swift pair of punches to the punchbag.*
Mel: He's been in there for seven hours now.
Milo: Sounds fairly standard for him.
*Hard hook kick*
Mel: He's done nothing but assault that punch bag.
Milo: ... granted that's a little unusual but I still don't think it's anything to worry about.
*Superkick to the bag.*
Mel: Really? Seven hours of bag work doesn't concern you?
Milo: No... not at all.
*A second, harder superkick.*
Mel: Without a break... totally unrelenting?
Milo: .... Ok.. that's a different story.
*Right punch, left punch, left elbow, right back spinning elbow.*
Milo: I'll talk to him. What's got him so pissed?
Mel: I think he saw Velez's promo.
*Dropkick*
Milo: Yep, that'd do it.
Mel: Good luck.
*Right high kick, and again, and again... spinning heel kick.*
Milo: ...Thanks...
*Milo enters a door as we cut away to the room where the punchbag is being brutally savaged. We start on the opposite side of the room and slowly close in on Dave Holland, his normal sense of control, gone.*
I don't like this... I don't like feeling like this... This is not my natural state of being... damn you Charlie... Damn you to hell. No... no this is just temporary.... I get it out of my system.... get back to my old self.... I stop being..... this..... Why can't I stop?... Why can't I..... rrrrRRRRRRAAAAAAGH!!!!
*Dave roars at the bag and snaps a Superkick at it. He steps back immediately and snaps another, stronger. Then another more like The Magic Touch.. then another... and another... and then the bag drops from it's fixings. Dave leaps and drives an elbow into the bag as he mounts it, laying fist after fist after fist. He eventually stops himself and stands up.
He glares at the bag for a while. In his mind's eye he's staring at the broken form of Charlie Velez, bleeding from a myriad of cuts and completely out cold.*
I can beat you Velez... I have beaten you. And not just you either. You want me to look at you? What have you done since last we met? What have you really truly achieved in the ring since I showed you for what you are... mortal. I'll tell you Charlie, because you seem to have gained a vaunted opinion of yourself for no damn reason. You beat Ortega, a man who's been out of action for years and who wasn't really putting his heart into it. Then you lost to Steve Awesome. Then you decided it was more important to prove a point by throwing a match than winning it... followed by Evan Andrews... and then Karras giving you the win last week. I hope you're listening to this because I have three words...
Well... Done... You...
So tell me Charlie... just what makes you the mighty world contender you think you deserve to be? Points? Points gained ruling over the National division? Points gained ruling over any and all comers? All well and good Charlie... but like you're so quick to dismiss my days at the top of the tag division, I'm afraid I have to dismiss all of those wins. Why?
Because I wasn't here. And I can't help but notice that since I made my triumphant rise to the top, that you just can't compete.
Now look at me. I beat Adam Knite. I beat Will Washington. I have continued to be undefeated in competition since Jacobsen, Milo and I lost to Venom, Doc and Ron Gibson. And what's more, since I came out of retirement...
I have not been pinned.
I have not tapped out.
I am personally, running on a one hundred percent record.
Now look at you again... you are nothing. You aren't even worthy to be facing against me. I should be fighting Zelda. I should be facing the poor girl you conned out of her world title shot. If you had any decency within you, you should give each and every one of those rankings points you're so proud of to her. In exchange for her generosity to you.
But you won't. Because I've seen you for what you are, Charlie. You're a shadow of the man I heard tales of. You're but a ghost of the legend I heard stories about. The great and powerful Charlie Velez.... nothing compared to me. Nothing compared to himself. How dare you even presume to know anything about me!
*Dave starts on the Charlie Velez figment again, kicking it with all the force he has. A muffled sound comes from behind him. He instinctively turns and throws a punch. The punch is caught by Milo Holland.*
Milo: Cool it!
Dave: Milo?... Sorry.. I...
*Dave looks back at the ground behind him... lying there is nothing but a punch bag once more.*
Dave: I'm ok...
Milo: You're pissed, I get it.
Dave: No... no I'm not.
Milo: It's alright Dave. You don't have to hide your anger. The best thing about you in the eyes of the crowd...
Dave: I'm angry?
Milo: You're human. Just like them.
Dave: Yeah...
Milo: Well... not just like them. Better. Kinda like Human 2.0
Dave: Milo... I'm good. I just had to work it out of my system.
Milo: Seven hours of working out? What the hell did Velez say that got to you?
*Dave wipes his face with a towel and then unintentionally glares at Milo.*
Dave: ... What didn't he say?
Milo: Come on. You're wife's getting scared.
Dave: Of what?
Milo: You.
Dave: She shouldn't be scared of me... I'll have to make this up to her.
No... it's Charlie that should be scared.
*We watch the two brothers walk away. Milo placing a brotherly arm across Dave's shoulders.*
Dave: So how's your match training going?
Milo: Huh?
Dave: You know you're tagging with Washington against Venom and Harold... right?
Milo: ..... Awww fudgenuggets.
*We open up on a forest. We're looking straight up at the sky through the leaves and branches of the trees. There's more than a few bare trees, being winter as it is. The sky beyond is completely white, shining brightly through the boughs above.*
Do you hear it Charlie? I wonder if you hear what I hear. I doubt it. You're far too busy listening to your own ego. Listening to it crashing against reality with all the grace and subtlety of a bulldozer. Subtle, as I remember Jack Hammond used to say many years ago, as a tree to the face. The sound is deafening is it not? But listen beyond that and you just might hear what I hear. The sound that calms me when I am angered. The sound that inspires me when I am at a loss. The sound that encourages me, at all times.
That sound... is the end. The end of Charlie Velez. What happens after I defeat you on Sunday Charlie? What happens when you find that everything you've done has been for naught? What do you do? Do you turn to Venom and tell him to give you his points because yours and his add up to another title shot? Will you keep coming Charlie? Will you continually strive for perfection, only to be disappointed time and again? Or will you take stock of your life. Realise there are some obstacles that you just can't hurdle. Will you find contentment without this amalgam of gold and leather?
Will you finally realise that Charlie Velez will always be number 3 in the class. That he will never attain one hundred percent. That his father will never respect him as he wants to... and will he realise that that's ok? That the fault lies with his father and not himself. Will he realise that he has the respect and adoration of his mother, his brother and his friends. That even thousands upon thousands all love him for what he does? For what he brings to the week every single week?
Well maybe not every week.. the Kelly incident might have lost him a few... but that aside you have the respect of many.
But I know my words are meaningless to you. You crave the pride and respect of the one. The one whose opinion matters to you above all others. I know.
I've been there.
*The camera swings around so we're looking down at the ground. The camera itself hangs maybe 15 feet in the air. Beneath we can see a tree with a large branch crossing the screen. Big enough for a man to lie on. This particular man has his back against the trunk and his hands behind his head. It is of course.... well come on, who do you think it is? It's pretty obvious really.*
Maybe not in the same way. It wasn't my father I demanded the respect and pride of. Wasn't even my 'substitute father' as I discovered him to be last month, just before facing you. No. It was me. I demanded so much of myself. I demanded that I be the best in everything that I do, not to impress him... but to spite him. I demanded it to show that no matter what was done to me, that my life was not ruined. That I could be better, that I could go on and prosper as he never had... as he never did.
And I did it.
You're very quick to judge, Charlie. You really think you're better than me in each and every walk of life? I don't see the justification. I mean, yeah sure, you have a mother who's still around, point to you I guess. Money, I have. My family... it may be the sole remaining branch of the Holland family tree but it's still there and it's still going strong. Friends? You really think I have no friends outside of those I show on television? Charlie... have you ever considered that I might be a man who has a life outside of his chosen career? That I might socialise with people outside of work? You have no idea how many friends I have.. principally because you're not one of them.
Ask Adam... Ask Freakke... Hell, apologise to Davey Ortega and ask him! What's shown on TV is only a fraction of what goes on in my life. But I can tell you this. You are not the better person.
Who has a loving wife who has never run away from him? Who has never even entertained the idea of cheating on his wife? Me. We may both have wives, Charlie... but I have the stronger marriage.
Who has more people around him than he can count and yet never feels a need to rely on them for confidence and encouragement? Who doesn't need to parade them on TV like a visual facebook friend count? Me. We may both have friends, Charlie... but mine are worth more to me than yours, as am I to them.
Who didn't spend his entire childhood being given everything he needed? Who had to constantly fight just to survive the hells he was being dragged through? Who came out the other side a little bit singed and scarred, but whole and fighting? Who went on to raise a company from the ground whilst wrestling at various locations? Who eventually made it to the point where he no longer needed to have a direct hand in his company's various proceedings? Who found the perfect woman and married her? Who became father to the most incredible little boy any father could hope for? Who became a good and decent man in spite of everything he had to live through, and knew that assaulting innocent people is just wrong and unecessary?
I think we both know the answer to that one.
*Dave swings his legs over the side of the branch and drops to the floor. He bends his knees to avoid jarring them and as he stands back upright the camera switches back to ground level. We follow him as he walks through the woods.*
And of course let's not forget the big question. The very question you can't stop focussing on. Who, after two years out of action, came back to nCw, the company that has felt more like a home from home than any other, and whilst maintaining his perfect record, won his shot at the world title... and then claimed it.
I know it kills you to see it Charlie, and I know that it's going to make you one hell of a competitor. It's going to make you the toughest fight I could even consider facing. But it doesn't make you the toughest fighter, the greatest wrestler on the roster. Because if there's one thing I know, the only person who runs harder than the predator... is the prey. That's why predators are stealthy. It's why they pick on the weak and the elderly. Because the healthy and the strong are too dangerous to face.
You've been far from stealthy Charlie. And I'm far from weak or old. I fought for this belt as though my life depended on it. Because my life did. If you think I'm going to fight any less to keep hold of it then you know even less than I thought.
Imagine our roles were reversed. Imagine that you were champion and I'd gotten this shot somehow. Would you do any less? Would you not fight harder to keep what you deserve? What you feel no other deserves? At the end of the day, we'll be putting just as much in this time as the last, percentage-wise. I remember what you did... I remember how tough that fight was.
If I got lucky... If you were beaten by a man who was simply in the right place at the right time, irrespective of his own abilities then I have to wonder... Is Charlie Velez really as powerful as he says he is?
I'm sorry that I have to do this Charlie... Because in truth I recognise you for what you are. A true threat. A talented wrestler. One of the best. But I know I can beat you. My destiny was strong enough to overcome yours and all others in it's path last time. It's still not completed. If I lose to you now after all that you've done, then what have I shown?
That at the very pinnacle of achievement, evil still prevails. I cannot allow this. And so I must consign you to your fate. If nothing is what you are... if nothing is all you have left away from this trinket that acts as nothing more than a badge of excellence above all others... if your life is so devoid and empty that you see nothing left...
*Dave walks through a bush. the camera doesn;t follow him as he disappears from view.*
Then nothing you shall be.
I'm sorry.
*We fade in to the following morning. Dave and Melanie are sat at a table eating breakfast. Melanie's breakfast is much smaller than Dave's, and Dave's isn't big to start with. She seems to have something on her mind though it takes her a while to come out with it.*
Mel: Dave...
Dave: Mmm?
Mel: ............ I'm pregnant.
*Dave's slice of toast falls from his fingers. He slowly turns his head to Mel who has a bit of a sheepish grin on her face. He stares in disbelief for a little while before cracking a little smile. He takes Melanie's hand and kisses it, unable to stop smiling.*
You do a lot of talking...
A lot of thinking...
Until recently I thought you were one of the greats...
Maybe as good as me...
No longer.
Because I now see...
I now understand...
Underneath all your words...
All your bravado...
You know Nothing.
*We see a huge pair of double doors. At the moment there's nothing else but we can hear several things around us. The distant sound of footsteps. One set heavy, the other light. The murmur of the voices that accompany them, one deep and masculine, the other light and feminine. And above it all, the sound of violence. the distant thuds and pounds of someone laying into a punchbag.*
Nothing
"It was not by wisdom that poets write their poetry, but by a kind of nature or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets; for these also say many beautiful things, but do not know anything of what they say."
-Plato.
"It was not by wisdom that poets write their poetry, but by a kind of nature or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets; for these also say many beautiful things, but do not know anything of what they say."
-Plato.
*We see a fist slam into a punch bag, followed by a hard elbow. We cut back to the double doors as suddenly as we cut away from them. The doors burst open, thrust by Milo Holland who slows up to resume walking alongside Melanie Holland-Black. They talk as they walk, their conversation interspersed with the man at the punch bag.*
Mel: I'm worried Milo.
Milo: Why? What's he doing?
*A swift pair of punches to the punchbag.*
Mel: He's been in there for seven hours now.
Milo: Sounds fairly standard for him.
*Hard hook kick*
Mel: He's done nothing but assault that punch bag.
Milo: ... granted that's a little unusual but I still don't think it's anything to worry about.
*Superkick to the bag.*
Mel: Really? Seven hours of bag work doesn't concern you?
Milo: No... not at all.
*A second, harder superkick.*
Mel: Without a break... totally unrelenting?
Milo: .... Ok.. that's a different story.
*Right punch, left punch, left elbow, right back spinning elbow.*
Milo: I'll talk to him. What's got him so pissed?
Mel: I think he saw Velez's promo.
*Dropkick*
Milo: Yep, that'd do it.
Mel: Good luck.
*Right high kick, and again, and again... spinning heel kick.*
Milo: ...Thanks...
*Milo enters a door as we cut away to the room where the punchbag is being brutally savaged. We start on the opposite side of the room and slowly close in on Dave Holland, his normal sense of control, gone.*
I don't like this... I don't like feeling like this... This is not my natural state of being... damn you Charlie... Damn you to hell. No... no this is just temporary.... I get it out of my system.... get back to my old self.... I stop being..... this..... Why can't I stop?... Why can't I..... rrrrRRRRRRAAAAAAGH!!!!
*Dave roars at the bag and snaps a Superkick at it. He steps back immediately and snaps another, stronger. Then another more like The Magic Touch.. then another... and another... and then the bag drops from it's fixings. Dave leaps and drives an elbow into the bag as he mounts it, laying fist after fist after fist. He eventually stops himself and stands up.
He glares at the bag for a while. In his mind's eye he's staring at the broken form of Charlie Velez, bleeding from a myriad of cuts and completely out cold.*
I can beat you Velez... I have beaten you. And not just you either. You want me to look at you? What have you done since last we met? What have you really truly achieved in the ring since I showed you for what you are... mortal. I'll tell you Charlie, because you seem to have gained a vaunted opinion of yourself for no damn reason. You beat Ortega, a man who's been out of action for years and who wasn't really putting his heart into it. Then you lost to Steve Awesome. Then you decided it was more important to prove a point by throwing a match than winning it... followed by Evan Andrews... and then Karras giving you the win last week. I hope you're listening to this because I have three words...
Well... Done... You...
So tell me Charlie... just what makes you the mighty world contender you think you deserve to be? Points? Points gained ruling over the National division? Points gained ruling over any and all comers? All well and good Charlie... but like you're so quick to dismiss my days at the top of the tag division, I'm afraid I have to dismiss all of those wins. Why?
Because I wasn't here. And I can't help but notice that since I made my triumphant rise to the top, that you just can't compete.
Now look at me. I beat Adam Knite. I beat Will Washington. I have continued to be undefeated in competition since Jacobsen, Milo and I lost to Venom, Doc and Ron Gibson. And what's more, since I came out of retirement...
I have not been pinned.
I have not tapped out.
I am personally, running on a one hundred percent record.
Now look at you again... you are nothing. You aren't even worthy to be facing against me. I should be fighting Zelda. I should be facing the poor girl you conned out of her world title shot. If you had any decency within you, you should give each and every one of those rankings points you're so proud of to her. In exchange for her generosity to you.
But you won't. Because I've seen you for what you are, Charlie. You're a shadow of the man I heard tales of. You're but a ghost of the legend I heard stories about. The great and powerful Charlie Velez.... nothing compared to me. Nothing compared to himself. How dare you even presume to know anything about me!
*Dave starts on the Charlie Velez figment again, kicking it with all the force he has. A muffled sound comes from behind him. He instinctively turns and throws a punch. The punch is caught by Milo Holland.*
Milo: Cool it!
Dave: Milo?... Sorry.. I...
*Dave looks back at the ground behind him... lying there is nothing but a punch bag once more.*
Dave: I'm ok...
Milo: You're pissed, I get it.
Dave: No... no I'm not.
Milo: It's alright Dave. You don't have to hide your anger. The best thing about you in the eyes of the crowd...
Dave: I'm angry?
Milo: You're human. Just like them.
Dave: Yeah...
Milo: Well... not just like them. Better. Kinda like Human 2.0
Dave: Milo... I'm good. I just had to work it out of my system.
Milo: Seven hours of working out? What the hell did Velez say that got to you?
*Dave wipes his face with a towel and then unintentionally glares at Milo.*
Dave: ... What didn't he say?
Milo: Come on. You're wife's getting scared.
Dave: Of what?
Milo: You.
Dave: She shouldn't be scared of me... I'll have to make this up to her.
No... it's Charlie that should be scared.
*We watch the two brothers walk away. Milo placing a brotherly arm across Dave's shoulders.*
Dave: So how's your match training going?
Milo: Huh?
Dave: You know you're tagging with Washington against Venom and Harold... right?
Milo: ..... Awww fudgenuggets.
*We open up on a forest. We're looking straight up at the sky through the leaves and branches of the trees. There's more than a few bare trees, being winter as it is. The sky beyond is completely white, shining brightly through the boughs above.*
Do you hear it Charlie? I wonder if you hear what I hear. I doubt it. You're far too busy listening to your own ego. Listening to it crashing against reality with all the grace and subtlety of a bulldozer. Subtle, as I remember Jack Hammond used to say many years ago, as a tree to the face. The sound is deafening is it not? But listen beyond that and you just might hear what I hear. The sound that calms me when I am angered. The sound that inspires me when I am at a loss. The sound that encourages me, at all times.
That sound... is the end. The end of Charlie Velez. What happens after I defeat you on Sunday Charlie? What happens when you find that everything you've done has been for naught? What do you do? Do you turn to Venom and tell him to give you his points because yours and his add up to another title shot? Will you keep coming Charlie? Will you continually strive for perfection, only to be disappointed time and again? Or will you take stock of your life. Realise there are some obstacles that you just can't hurdle. Will you find contentment without this amalgam of gold and leather?
Will you finally realise that Charlie Velez will always be number 3 in the class. That he will never attain one hundred percent. That his father will never respect him as he wants to... and will he realise that that's ok? That the fault lies with his father and not himself. Will he realise that he has the respect and adoration of his mother, his brother and his friends. That even thousands upon thousands all love him for what he does? For what he brings to the week every single week?
Well maybe not every week.. the Kelly incident might have lost him a few... but that aside you have the respect of many.
But I know my words are meaningless to you. You crave the pride and respect of the one. The one whose opinion matters to you above all others. I know.
I've been there.
*The camera swings around so we're looking down at the ground. The camera itself hangs maybe 15 feet in the air. Beneath we can see a tree with a large branch crossing the screen. Big enough for a man to lie on. This particular man has his back against the trunk and his hands behind his head. It is of course.... well come on, who do you think it is? It's pretty obvious really.*
Maybe not in the same way. It wasn't my father I demanded the respect and pride of. Wasn't even my 'substitute father' as I discovered him to be last month, just before facing you. No. It was me. I demanded so much of myself. I demanded that I be the best in everything that I do, not to impress him... but to spite him. I demanded it to show that no matter what was done to me, that my life was not ruined. That I could be better, that I could go on and prosper as he never had... as he never did.
And I did it.
You're very quick to judge, Charlie. You really think you're better than me in each and every walk of life? I don't see the justification. I mean, yeah sure, you have a mother who's still around, point to you I guess. Money, I have. My family... it may be the sole remaining branch of the Holland family tree but it's still there and it's still going strong. Friends? You really think I have no friends outside of those I show on television? Charlie... have you ever considered that I might be a man who has a life outside of his chosen career? That I might socialise with people outside of work? You have no idea how many friends I have.. principally because you're not one of them.
Ask Adam... Ask Freakke... Hell, apologise to Davey Ortega and ask him! What's shown on TV is only a fraction of what goes on in my life. But I can tell you this. You are not the better person.
Who has a loving wife who has never run away from him? Who has never even entertained the idea of cheating on his wife? Me. We may both have wives, Charlie... but I have the stronger marriage.
Who has more people around him than he can count and yet never feels a need to rely on them for confidence and encouragement? Who doesn't need to parade them on TV like a visual facebook friend count? Me. We may both have friends, Charlie... but mine are worth more to me than yours, as am I to them.
Who didn't spend his entire childhood being given everything he needed? Who had to constantly fight just to survive the hells he was being dragged through? Who came out the other side a little bit singed and scarred, but whole and fighting? Who went on to raise a company from the ground whilst wrestling at various locations? Who eventually made it to the point where he no longer needed to have a direct hand in his company's various proceedings? Who found the perfect woman and married her? Who became father to the most incredible little boy any father could hope for? Who became a good and decent man in spite of everything he had to live through, and knew that assaulting innocent people is just wrong and unecessary?
I think we both know the answer to that one.
*Dave swings his legs over the side of the branch and drops to the floor. He bends his knees to avoid jarring them and as he stands back upright the camera switches back to ground level. We follow him as he walks through the woods.*
And of course let's not forget the big question. The very question you can't stop focussing on. Who, after two years out of action, came back to nCw, the company that has felt more like a home from home than any other, and whilst maintaining his perfect record, won his shot at the world title... and then claimed it.
I know it kills you to see it Charlie, and I know that it's going to make you one hell of a competitor. It's going to make you the toughest fight I could even consider facing. But it doesn't make you the toughest fighter, the greatest wrestler on the roster. Because if there's one thing I know, the only person who runs harder than the predator... is the prey. That's why predators are stealthy. It's why they pick on the weak and the elderly. Because the healthy and the strong are too dangerous to face.
You've been far from stealthy Charlie. And I'm far from weak or old. I fought for this belt as though my life depended on it. Because my life did. If you think I'm going to fight any less to keep hold of it then you know even less than I thought.
Imagine our roles were reversed. Imagine that you were champion and I'd gotten this shot somehow. Would you do any less? Would you not fight harder to keep what you deserve? What you feel no other deserves? At the end of the day, we'll be putting just as much in this time as the last, percentage-wise. I remember what you did... I remember how tough that fight was.
If I got lucky... If you were beaten by a man who was simply in the right place at the right time, irrespective of his own abilities then I have to wonder... Is Charlie Velez really as powerful as he says he is?
I'm sorry that I have to do this Charlie... Because in truth I recognise you for what you are. A true threat. A talented wrestler. One of the best. But I know I can beat you. My destiny was strong enough to overcome yours and all others in it's path last time. It's still not completed. If I lose to you now after all that you've done, then what have I shown?
That at the very pinnacle of achievement, evil still prevails. I cannot allow this. And so I must consign you to your fate. If nothing is what you are... if nothing is all you have left away from this trinket that acts as nothing more than a badge of excellence above all others... if your life is so devoid and empty that you see nothing left...
*Dave walks through a bush. the camera doesn;t follow him as he disappears from view.*
Then nothing you shall be.
I'm sorry.
*We fade in to the following morning. Dave and Melanie are sat at a table eating breakfast. Melanie's breakfast is much smaller than Dave's, and Dave's isn't big to start with. She seems to have something on her mind though it takes her a while to come out with it.*
Mel: Dave...
Dave: Mmm?
Mel: ............ I'm pregnant.
*Dave's slice of toast falls from his fingers. He slowly turns his head to Mel who has a bit of a sheepish grin on her face. He stares in disbelief for a little while before cracking a little smile. He takes Melanie's hand and kisses it, unable to stop smiling.*