Post by The Brothers Holland on Mar 1, 2008 17:35:42 GMT -6
I say that we're going to hell, and people laugh?
I say we're going to hell, me, the most experienced man in that whole damn ring, and they doubt me?
Who the hell do they think they are?
You want to know why I think like I do?
How I know what we're facing?
How I know I'm not overexaggerating?
Just shut up, all of you, just.. just shut up.
Find yourself a chair,
Sit yourself down,
And watch...
Just.. watch...
I say we're going to hell, me, the most experienced man in that whole damn ring, and they doubt me?
Who the hell do they think they are?
You want to know why I think like I do?
How I know what we're facing?
How I know I'm not overexaggerating?
Just shut up, all of you, just.. just shut up.
Find yourself a chair,
Sit yourself down,
And watch...
Just.. watch...
*The camera opens on a building. It's a little old but generally it's held together quite well. The sign above reads 'Carl Foster Care Home'. The sound of children can be heard from round the back. Sounds of joy and play, sounds that bring a smile even to the most grizzled battle hardened man available to listen. A car pulls up and parks in one of the spaces available. A sleek, black, Aston Martin DB9, possibly the most beautiful car in the world. Some of the people walking by take a moment just to look at it for a moment, it's that stunning.*
"Maybe they were right. No.. there's no maybe's about it. They were right. I am a product of this society. My bank account holds more money than people could even imagine having, my hotel chains and gyms and leisure complexes and computer companies and various other enterprises span the whole damn globe, my garage is full of fantastic cars and my bed contains my beautiful wife and the most precious thing of them all, my unborn son. My walls are lined with my accolades, title after title after title, all wall mounted and shining as though I had King Midas himself decorating. I have my brother, I have my ma.. generally my life is pretty damn perfect. I'm happy while there are thousands.. millions, likely billions of people out there who hate their existance and would end it all if they were just that little weaker, or change it all if they were just that little stronger. I didn't want this life originally, y'know. I didn't come looking for the billions in the bank, the businesses, the flashy cars. All I ever wanted was a family. The rest just kind of fell into place. No one would've thought it would if they understood what really happened."
*Dave exits his car and closes the door gently before moving on. He walks towards the doorway. Once he gets there he looks back and sees the people looking at his car. Some even are getting cameras out on their phones to take a picture.*
"I may be a product of this society, but the truth is I just don't understand it. I don't understand why people feel the need to worship those who have, things. They're just things. I mean look at it, it's just a car. It's a beautiful car, it's a fast car. It's an.. expensive car, let's get that out the way, but.. all the same it's just a car. Most people have a car, what makes it so much better than yours? I don't get it... I just really do not understand. People come up to me and shake my hand. They say "Well done". Most of them.. well.. it's because of the wrestling. That, I get, That I understand. They see a man, they see a man fighting, they see him putting his all on the line, week in, week out, they see him fighting not just for himself but for the whole damn crowd. I've always said that, I've always said I'm fighting for the crowd, for their entertainment. And they appreciate me for it. They love me for what I do, for them. Not because of what i have but because of what I am, because of what I do. But some men, they shake my hand.. like last week, at that dinner party. Every single one of them were shaking my hand because of what I have, because of who I own. I'm not proud of that, that's why I kept ducking out, why I kept running away from them. I just don't get why people value me so much on what I have, why people hate me so much because of what I have. I don't get the importance of it all."
*Dave turns away from the small crowd forming and makes his way inside. Through the doors is a fairly standard reception area. Sat behind the desk is a young lady. Her dark hair tied back and her black framed glasses resting on her nose making her look every bit as efficient as ever. Dave walks up to her*
Dave: Hi.. is Phyllis around?
Receptionist Phyllis...
Dave: Yeah, sweet old lady, been here for years. She used to take care of a few of us when we were here years and years ago.
Receptionist: I know who she is.. it's just that.. well, she died last October.
*Dave's head drops momentarily. Phyllis was the only good and decent thing in the orphanage all those years ago before Carl took it over from Conrad. Dave loved the fact that whenever he came here to face his past he was always greeted with and bid farewell by something, someone that made him feel good about it all.*
Receptionist: Are you ok? Were you close to her?
Dave: ... No... not really. She saved my life more than a few times but I never really knew much about her.
Receptionist: I'm sorry.
"I doubt as much as I am right now"
Dave: Nah.. don't be.. it's not your fault. Listen is it ok if I visit the cellar?
Receptionist: I'm sorry but the cellar is locked and you need permission to...
*Dave holds up a key. It catches the light in various ways shining brightly.*
Dave: It's ok... I have clearance.
Receptionist: Then why ask me if you may?
Dave: Heh.. true I guess. But the fact is I don't run the place. I have a key to a door, that's it. You're the one who let's me through.
Receptionist: Then by all means go on through, Mr..
Dave: Holland. Don't worry about my first name, my brother never comes here anymore.
*Dave walks on. As he proceeds he walks past many rooms with children inside. The age of the children is generally from 5 to 12 with a few outside those brackets. Dave smiles, not because they're here, but because they're here at a time where they can afford laughter and education. Where each and every child is valued equally and they all have hope for the future, though some may be too young to understand that fact. Dave comes to the end of the corridor and a large metal door blocks off his route. Not bars, solid metal. Dave uses his key to unlock the door and opens it revealing a damp and dark stone wall running along a set of stairs heading downwards. Dave heads down.*
"For those of you who missed the footage in my earlier video allow me to reiterate my point about hell. I know about hell not because of any.. cell match or annihilation complex or elimination chamber or whatever people want to call it. No mere cell could be described as hell. It's just a match. no, hell very much requires a more... chaotic aspect to it. The Annihilation Complex came close, but the fact remains that everyone was intact when all was said and done. Some mroe intact than others, but intact none the less. No. Down these stairs is where we will find hell. Down these stairs is where we will find the birthplace of some of the most hellish and chaotic men to have ever set foot within a wrestling ring. Men like Triple D, men like XCon... men with names that no one in nCw has heard of or cares about. But also.. men like Spike Kane.. men like Milo Holland.. men, like Dave Holland. I've told this story a thousand times and still, no one listens. It's sickening. those that forget the past are doomed to repeat it. I wouldn't wish this past on anyone. It's made me who I am but.. it's not worth it. It really, is not worth it. Plus you've got a 2 in 3 chance of going absolutely insane, Spike and Milo have proved that. But this... welcome, to my hell.
*At the foot of the stairs we are met with an open chamber. The ceiling is held up by stone arches the cross the room. On two sides of the room are wrestling rings, the wood of the turnbuckle posts rotting away and the canvas damp and mouldy. In two other alcoves are some rudimentary stands, again the wood is rotting away. in the middle of the room, the centerpiece of the whole chamber.. is a pit. Dropped into the ground, lined with stone and now water at the very bottom.*
Dave: This place... it wasn't always used. Most of the time is was saved for the more,.. violent pupils of Conrad Jones. it was.. for the more.. chosen.. more, deserving as Conrad would say it. In this pit.. boys were made into savages. I would say they were turned into men but that's just not true. What makes a man isn't how quickly he can destroy an opponent. What makes a man isn't how hard he can punch, how merciless he can be. No. These boys lost their innocence in this pit, these boys lost their.. youth in this pit. I was lucky enough to have only fought in there three times.. ever. Once, it was me and Milo in there. Against a single boy.. a helpless boy. We were ordered to destroy him as a test of our character.. or we would be punished. The method of punishment... we had no idea. Spike was punished often. We never knew why or how, he never spoke of it until now. It sickens me to think of what Conrad had done. Not just for this pit, this basement.. but also for what he had done to Spike and the others who also never spoke of it before. We saw how it affected him and so to avoid punishment we fought.. and we decimated.
*Dave moves to one of the stands and leans on a metal bar, hunched forward as if supressing some rage.*
Dave: The second time, the shoe was on the other foot. Milo was the one being thrown to the wolves. He was in the pit, he was being... tortured for the lack of a better word. He was being forced to fight team after team after team until he could fight no more and dropped unconcious. When he did beat one team another would leap right in to replace them at Conrad's order. Eventually I couldn't take anymore and I leapt right in there against him, against Conrad. We fought and carried on... I fought for Milo, Milo could barely move any more. So I carried on.. regardless. Two men at a time, two boys, two savages at a time... And I won. In my mind I won. in the world I didn't do so well. Eventually the relentless tide of bodies grew just too much for me and I fell. I was laid low. As was Milo. Conrad never punished me further for leaping in, he figured I'd suffered enough. For my crime against him. I don't regret doing it. I will never regret standing up for my brother, for my family. I will never regret standing up for myself I will never regret standing up for anyone against a man like Conrad Jones, against people who are sick and twisted and deserve no mercy.. whatsoever.
*Dave turns and leaps straight into the pit. He doesn't stay down long as he gets to his feet and continues*
Dave: But the third time... the third time is when we really get to hell. Imagine being forced to fight four of your closest friends. Imagine having to decide which friend to punch at what time.. which friend to kick just to stop him from winning... because if you know if you win you avoid the beating. Not a beating like this concentrated violence, I mean a beating like being strapped up and whipped. Like being tied up and struck in the ribs with a baseball bat. *sigh* There was me in this pit... there was Spike in this pit... and there were three others. James, Tony and Robert. We were told to get to it and not stop fighting until just one of us alone could stand. So we did just that. We started fighting... The respect I had for each of these guys. He'd seen us hanging out together, in the orphanage we were friends. We were always going around, sitting, talking.. we'd always said we'd have each others' backs. Conrad saw this and he didn't like it, he didn't like factions he hates this kind of warfare. It was unbecoming of a warrior, of a gladiator, of a wrestler. Those were his thoughts. Can you imagine having to make that kind of commitment. To choose between each of your friends. *sigh* We had to... none of us wanted to, but we had to. Robert was the first to fall... Tony soon followed. Then.. then it was me.. I just couldn't hoist myself up again. That left just James and Spike. Not too long ago James came back. He came to talk to Spike. Spike went over what happened in his head a thousand times and was ashamed each and every time. He lost it.. he completely flipped. He took James and broke him on the stone floor, against the stone wall against everything he could.
*Dave runs his fingers across the bloodstains that remain on the stone. Remnants of a regime thankfully now long gone.*
Dave: And then... after all we'd gone through, after all we'd seen. After watching our friends fall.. after making our friends fall.. we were punished, those of us that fell. Spike for once had avoided it but the rest of us... James had the worst of it. I still have scars on my back, X-Rays still show cracks on my ribs. Sometimes I still have nightmares of that fight. I severely doubt that any among you have suffered like that. Tortured mentally.. physically beaten and then to be further tortured. If you guys think you know hell, you're wrong. You're so very wrong. And then consider we went through this at the age of thirteen! No child should have to go through what we did. At this point I'm sure you're wondering my point.. wondering what big revelation I had that day that I'm about to share with you all. There was no revelation. There was no time in this place for revelations. All I knew was that I had survived and that was enough. That I had survived and that one of my friends was free of the torture even if it was for but a short while. I'm sick of people thinking they know what I went through, they understand what I went through. And now.. what I went through.. might ironically be of some use. I have entered chaos here, once.. elsewhere several times more. And now I step into it once again. I will bring order to chaos. I will bring my mighty right foot, my supporting left foot, my speedy right hand, my solid left hand, my brilliant mind and my indestructible body into that cell... and you will know when the dust clears and one among you has fallen by my hand, that you have all been educated. That you have witnessed the wrath of a man that has truly come through hell... singed, and scarred.. and yet still whole.
*Dave climbs out of the pit and makes his way back outside. The camera doesn't follow him, it just turns away and finds and finds a single stone at the side. It has some childish writing carved into it. It reads 'Carl was Here'. Beneath it it has a list of other names, 'So was James', 'So was Spike' and so on but moving away the camera finds a seperate inscription. 'Dave Survived Here'. Fade to black.*