Storyline Summer Spectacular 6/23/14 On Card

[Petty]

This was during the height of my Colossuem World Championship Run. The lead up to the match was pretty much set during this on card segment. The backstory was we both had the same nickname. Both had the same finishers and both felt the company wasn't big enough for two chosen one's. That was a side story the big overarching angle of The Regime vs The Warriors. The Regime believing that the owner in question is just using us as a money grab and we are here to set that record straight by trying to wrestle control of the company away from WTJ, with Steve Sanders being the Regime's way of doing it. So, hope ya enjoy this too:

(The music to “Immortal” by Adema plays, and out onto the stage steps Steve Sanders. Boos and some small cheers are heard. The custom Colosseum World Heavyweight title belt in his hand, he makes a smug smirk as the fans of Toronto wonder what is going on. He struts down to the ring, without the ususal fanfare, and walks up the ring steps. Looking out at the fans and the stage, entering the ropes, he asks for a microphone as his music dies down. He walks around the ring a bit, his title on his shoulders, allowing the fans to get their cheers and jeers out of their system. He stops in the middle of the ring. He raises the microphone up to his mouth.)


Sanders: Before I even start, I just wanna tell you Canucks to suck my nuts!


(The fans begin to boo loudly. Sanders laughs as he rises the microphone to his lips again to speak.)


Sanders: Don’t “eh” me on…


TT: I think he means “egg”


CW: Except, we’re in Canada, dingus.


(The fans begin to chant things like “asshole” and “Sanders Sucks”. The Chosen One laughs as he pulls off his Regime shirt to reveal none other than a Miami Heat Chris Bosh jersey. The fans are in an uproar!)


TT: Isn’t Steve from Ohio?


Sanders: Looks like he took his talents to south beach too, where it’s warm, sunny and they hold championships much like The Chosen One here, I don’t see a raptor having a chance at that, ever again.


CW: Haha! Perfect!


(The crowd boos even more, Sanders leans against the ropes. Smiling that classic smile. He puts his right foot up on the ropes.)


Sanders: You are all maybe wondering why the future of The Colosseum is out here tonight. Well, I told you that William. T. Justice has a date with me. He was being man enough to lie to my face during our meetings about me being the future and using me to be the next big break for The Colosseum. So, William T. Justice, I KNOW your old ass is back stage. Come on down and don’t make me come back there to get you.”


(Sanders pulls the microphone from his lips. He waits and waits. What seems like minutes go by and Sanders rises the microphone back up to his lips. His tone is more serious than before.)


Sanders: Okay, here I come.


(Sanders drops the mic as he slides out of the ring. He storms up the ramp as he disappears backstage. The camera cuts the announcing team. They all look shocked.)


RS: Well this is a little bit of an unorthodox begining.


TT: I know, what kind of show would begin with the guy with a title belt coming out, talking, and insulting the local fans for ten minutes? It’s time for some action.


CW: Whatever, I found that gripping.


RS: Well, speaking of action, there seems to be some going on backstage, let’s cut to that feed.


(The camera shows Sanders walking through the hallways, he opens the door to the office of William T. Justice. Justice he stands up quickly, putting his hands.)


WTJ: Hold on just a minute.


(Sanders grabs him by his tie and starts dragging him out of the office, the former wrestler turned executive tries to fight but Sanders just lands a hard right handed punch to his solar plexus. Knocking the wind out of the old man.)


RS: I don’t believe what I’m seeing here! Steve Sanders is assaulting William T. Justice!


TT: What could be going through the mind of Justice as he’s dragged to his own ring!


CW: He’s probably regretting insulting Sanders like he did earlier. Now he’s going to find out exactly how the Regime means business.


RS: This is just over the line. In the entire history of The Colosseum I can think of… maybe one time where a wrestler laid his hands on William T. Justice.


TT: That wound up having repercussions that continued all the way to this year!


RS: I’m sure there will be consequences here, but I don’t think Steve Sanders cares.


(Sanders is now pulling him back out onto the stage. The arena is in an uproar. He pulls him down the ramp, rolling WTJ in the ring. Sanders slides in and WTJ makes it too his knees. Sanders reaches into his pockets and pulls out handcuffs, two pairs of handcuffs!)


RS: Oh what now! This is too much!


CW: I’m sure he just wants Justice to hear him out.


RS: William T. Justice is almost seventy years old! Sanders doesn’t need to do this to be heard! He’s just being sadistic!


(Sanders snaps the cuffs on WTJ left hand latching it to the top rope, and doing the same to the right arm. The owner of The Colosseum has been handcuffed to the ropes! Sanders slides out the ring, picking up a chair from the ringside area and sliding it in the ring. Sanders slides back in and grabs a microphone and sitting the chair up right next to WTJ taking a seat in the chair. Looking at William T. Justice.)


Sanders: So Nice of you to join us William.


WTJ: You’re going to regret this, Sanders. Why don’t you stop before you make things any worse for yourself.


Sanders: Now everyone is maybe wondering WHY I am doing this. It’s just a matter that this man has been the destruction of us. Using us. And I’m tired of being used. I’m tired of busting my ass like the true future of The Colosseum I am to have to watch you try and assemble your rag tag of old fossils known as The Warriors.


WTJ: The Warriors? They don’t answer to me. They don’t even-


(Sanders looks towards the stage. He has an look of rage in his eyes.)


Sanders: I suggest The Warriors, or nobody from the back comes out here. Cause I will send this old bit*ch to the hospital! So long as no one comes out I promise not to hurt this man. Now, where was we. Oh, yeah, see William T. Justice I want you to listen to me. I want the fans and I want the boys in the back to listen to me. I did not make myself the bad guy. Standing up for our rights to be treated like decent human beings and not used like cattle sent to the slaughter is what makes this all wrong. He thinks he can just sit in the back and being an older wrestler himself he should know the ramifications that we have to go through don’t you William T. Justice?


WTJ: Wha-


(Sanders puts the microphone toward his mouth but before he can even get a word out he snatches the mic from him and puts it back up toward his own mouth.)


Sanders: I want you to do us all a favor. Shut the hell up and sit there like the unimportant piece of shit you are! This is my time and I’m not leaving this ring till I’m ready. I’m The Colosseum World Heavyweight Champion!


(Sanders lies the title at his feet. He begins talking again, his voice becoming clear and defined.)


Sanders: Let me be very clear here. All of you in the back, I don’t hate you. I don’t even dislike you. I dislike the fact you would defend the actions of this man right here. The same man who would use the fact you can’t wrestle anymore to make a quick buck. This man here is what’s wrong with this industry. The Warriors huddle around this man like yes men who have no leadership qualities in their body. Oh he disgraced the title, The Regime wants to destroy the integrity of this company. What damn integrity? You think he is being honest with you? I mean a bunch of you think you're better than me. Better record? Because of one reason only. You all are better at kissing his ass. I hate the reason you rather brown nose an old man who doesn’t give a damn about if you live or die as long as you keep the money rolling in. I mean the biggest ass kisser besides Michael Wendigo is none other than Bodie Styles. He’s the best ass kisser ever. He’s even better than Justin Sellers.


(Sanders waves at the camera to signal he is throwing this out at James Rumple. He points at the title with a big smile and a thumbs up.)



Sanders: I’m good for telling the truth and that’s why it’s a shock to a lot of you old pieces of crap in the back to see me as The Colosseum World Heavyweight champ. You had to conform to be champ. I made my own way. That makes me the best at this game. That makes me number uno. I’m hated by the mere fact that I been this good since I walked into the company ten years ago. I came back as the headliner. It rubbed the boys in the back who think I needed to “earn” it. No The Colosseum made you a superstar Pete Anselmo. The Colosseum made you a superstar Targeter. The Colosseum made you into household names. I CAME into the company a household name. I wasn’t groomed and shaved to be the poodle of William T. Justice.


(The fans are booing even louder. Sanders laughs as he looks at William T. Justice. He looks back to the stage. A sly evil grin coming over his face. Halestorm's "Miss the Misery" hits the speakers, and a few seconds later, to the absolute disdain of the crowd, out walks the co-owner of the Colosseum and leader of the Regime herself, Julia "Strife" Hill. Being an Ontario native doesn't do much for the woman's reception here in Toronto. She navigates herself down the ramp in her expensive high heels, glaring down into the ring, at Justice, with contempt.)


JH: So glad you could make it, William.


(Her music cuts as she speaks into the microphone she brought with her. Sanders is kind enough to hold the ropes open for her as she gets into the ring.)


JH: It seems like you still aren't taking me seriously enough.


(Suddenly, she slaps Justice across the cheek, her face warped into a scowl. Raising her voice, she points to Steve, and the title he is holding.)


JH: Soon...this is all going to end. And thanks to you, the first to fall will be your so-called chosen one. Bodie Styles!


(The fans cheer when they hear his name, but Julia is less than impressed.)


JH: That man is a traitor! That man stands for everything wrong with the Colosseum of today! Just. Like. YOU.


(Slowly, she paces around Steve Sanders, looking back and forth between him and Justice as she talks.)


JH: Your stock is plummeting, William, and we won't let you drag the Colosseum down with you. No. We're here to lead this place into a glorious new future. A future with no place for men like you. Men like Bodie Styles.


(She rubs her hand across the gold plated belt on the ground, admiring it as the light gleams off the surface. Then glares at Justice out of the corner of her eye.)


JH: Three weeks. That's how long you two have left. Three more weeks of this farce. Three weeks until Steve and I secure the Colosseum's future. Three weeks until we take your places, where we rightfully should be. This championship is staying with the Regime. I refuse to let either of you tarnish it's beauty any longer.


(She grabs the clipboard with the match contract, holding it into the air.)


JH: Summer Spectacular, Night 3. Last Man Standing. Two special referees. You pick one, William. I pick one. And we decide the fate of the Colosseum, right there, and then.


(She leans down, and gets right in his face.)


JH: And there's no one more I trust to get the job done...then ME. I will don the stripes. I will usher in the new era PERSONALLY. Because unlike you, I am not afraid.


(She finishes signing the contract as she holds it for Sanders. Sanders smiles and walks towards the ropes leaning against them, placing his right foot up on the bottom of the ropes.)



Sanders: Bodie Styles...I know you're back there listening. Soaking up the being back in the spotlight. How does it feel that I made you somebody again? That’s the power of my superstardom. I know you're in the back even more mad that I got your boss tied up like the sweaty nasty pig he is. On his knees about to be send to the slaughter. Now, I was thinking I am gonna not hurt William T. Justice. But I changed my mind. The only way I won’t is if Bodie Styles lets his nuts drop and comes out here to face me like a man. No one from The Regime, no one from The Warriors. Just you and me. And you accept the match contract that I have. William T. Justice here is gonna sign the contract too. Just like I already have. The match is a Last Man Standing Match, with two special guest referees for the Colosseum World Heavyweight Championship and the rights to The Chosen One nickname. Your suppose to be this big bad man. The so called Chosen One of these idiots around the world who don’t know the difference between being force fed a half truth and the true reality of our business. Get your ass out here Beach Bum Bitch!


(The ColoTron stays dark. No movement comes from the back at all. The fans begin to chant and clap in unison "WE WANT BODIE!" Sanders glares poisonously towards the ramp, seething with rage. He stomps over towards Justice and grabs his hair, forcefully ripping his head back and exposing his neck. He towers over him and screams into the microphone at Bodie.)


Sanders: Bodie Styles! I swear to god you better show your face before I break William T. Justice’s leg with The Sanders Lock!


(The chants grew louder and louder from the crowd. Sanders eagerly anticipates the arrival of Bodie Styles, licking his lips, ready to strike. Still no sign of the beach bum anywhere. Sanders starts choking WTJ who can't fight back because his hands are restrained to the ropes.)


Sanders: Beach bitch come on you're not me! Your tide is calling come catch this wave!


(Sanders looks towards the ramp licking his lips in anticipation, the look of a wild animal possesses his face, the prey succumbing to his will as he awaits his true goal. The crowd chant builds wildly in intensity as they anticipate Bodie's arrival. Still nothing. Sanders looks on in disgust. Julia Hill looks at Steve Sanders and mouths something to him. He chuckles.)


Sanders: Don't wanna let down all of those make a wish jerry kids in attendance now do we beach bitch?


(Sanders cracks his neck and moves with lightning quick reflexes to apply the Sanders' Lock on the helpless Justice.


::I've got these letters tattooed on my arm that remind me each second of where I come from and the long hard road to get me back hoooooooome::


The crowd explodes as the ColoTron flashes to life with images of a coastal shore. Bodie walks out onto the ramp, mic in hand. The second verse of the song plays as Bodie acknowledges the fans in the arena. He adjusts his black tank top with the words "Sanders Who?" written on it. His hair hangs down to his shoulders, the beard grown out much more is stroked by his fingers as he glances down towards the chaos in the ring with a smirk towards Sanders. He signals for his music to cut. As it dies down, the chants of "Chosen One" start up again to a deafening cacophony of noise. Bodie takes the mic away from his lips and flashes his trademark smile to the crowd, as extended. He bows briefly before requesting them to calm with a finger to his lips. He gestures towards Sanders and shrugs sheepishly at the audience. The smirk returns as he looks back into Sanders' eyes.)


BS: Steven...what are you doing out here bro?


(Sanders pulls the mic to his lips and opens his mouth to speak, Bodie immediately interrupts him.)


BS: No! Not your megalomaniac tirades Steven…


(Bodie shrugs at him, laughing while looking at the crowd.)


BS: What in God's name are you actually doing right now?


(Sanders looks on and then at Julia as he releases WTJ. He slides the microphone up to his lips as a chant of asshole begins.)


Sanders: I'm out here to show the world the power of The Regime. I'm out here to show these fans that you are a coward. A copycat. A nobody. I’m out here to show the world that I’m more than the man, the myth, the legend. I’m a god.


(Bodie pulls the microphone away from his mouth and laughs. He shrugs back to the crowd and takes a couple of steps down the ramp.)


BS: And how...would you say you are doing that Steven?


(Bodie stops halfway down the ramp, extending his arms to Sanders inside the ring as a challenge.)


Sanders: You see your boss up here? He been crying for his knight in beachwear. Oh dear Bodie save me. I'm suggesting you get in this ring and lock your beady little eyes on The Chosen One and sign this contract! That or the old man ends up vegetable stew on live television!


(Bodie purses his lips and nods his head. His brow furrows as he contemplates Steve's words. With a placed sigh, he looks back to the ring and shrugs.)


BS: Go ahead…


(Sanders picks up the chair he was sitting in. He pulls it over his head.. CRACK! WTJ slumps down in his handcuffs. Sanders laughs. Bodie stands there, not flinching. He shrugs again at Sanders. Sanders pulls the microphone up to his lips.)


Sanders: Sign the contract or forfeit the match.You will never get a title shot ever again and forfeit The Chosen One name! Your decision matters greatly. Plus, I will hurt your boss.


(Bodie winks at Sanders and chuckles again. He slowly makes his way towards the ring. Julia is nodding in agreement with Sanders.)


BS: You see Steven...you have no power over me. My boss is simply my boss, and let's face it, who out here among us wouldn't love to watch our boss get beaten with a chair? Am I right?!?


(The crowd roars to Bodie's delight. He climbs the apron, kneeling on it and peering through the ropes.)


BS: What you don't seem to understand brother...


(Bodie stands and gestures to the crowd.)


BS: THEY are my boss!!!


(The crowd loses their collective mind at the comment. Bodie flashes his trademark smile at the audience in attendance and gestures towards them directly at Sanders.)


(Sanders smiles as drops the chair. He stands where his title is pulling the microphone to his lips)


Sanders: I understand well. I understand you are out here catering to a crowd. But no amount of cheers Bodie can change the outcome. Your a soul lost. You just cost yourself a side in this war. But all you care about is what I embody. Its okay. I understand after all this man made you what you are. And you turned your back on him like you turned your back on The Regime. I'm pretty sure little Owen and Papa Bodie , Momma Styles and Glass eye Styles would be so proud of you. At the end of the day I'm the best at what I do. I'm the calling you out. You're the chosen one? You are so delusional to think your chosen? Last I checked your all alone. If you're as chosen as you say you are sign this contract.


(Sanders throws the contract at the feet of Bodie Styles near the edge of the rope )


Sanders: All the flashes of smiles and playing to the crowd is a shock. Considering you could please your fans but not your wife!


(Sanders looks at Bodie with a smile. Throwing his arms out from his body indicating he is a god. The fans start booing. Julia Hill is laughing as Sanders raises the microphone to his lips again.)



Sanders: Sign the contract. If you're ready to go one on one with The Chosen One. And by the way Bodie Styles..welcome to the Sanders Zone!


(Bodie picks the contract off the ground and looks over it, pen in hand. He flips through the pages, pursing his lips, he nods and starts to sign it. Bodie pauses for a moment after signing the contract and holds it tightly, a sly smile crosses his face.)


BS: You still don't get it do you Steven? I don't care what you have to say. No matter how many "wife jokes" or familial references you make, it will never be able to compensate for your own lack of "talent"...


(Bodie points his head downward towards Sanders with a raised brow. Bodie steps through the ropes, teasing Sanders with the contract in his hand. Sanders eyes grow wide with anger. He steps into Bodie’s personal circle. As the two face off. Bodie Styles a couple inches taller. Sanders can smell the sand and salt of the beach water in his hair.)


BS: And as for your assessment of my strategies and allegiances...


(Bodie points towards Justice and Hill in the ring.)


BS: Understand one thing broseph...they couldn't care less about any of us. He's just as corrupt as she is, just in a different shade of light. I don't fight for him, I don't fight for her...I come out here week after week because I love to entertain the people. The same people that buy merchandise, wait outside in the rain for tickets, pay exuberant amounts of money for PPVs and memberships...the same people that year in and year out do it regardless of the prices being raised despite the declining economy. You see Steven, both of these two are in the business of making money...not friends...certainly not allies...


(Bodie takes a step towards Sanders and chuckles.)


BS: I don't want to participate in your "war"...I just want to show the world what they already know…


(Their eyes meet before Bodie whips the contract at Sanders and smirks. Sanders looks at the contract grabbing it and handing it to Julia Hill. Sanders smiles back at Bodie Styles.)


BS: You're nothing but a fraud…


(Bodie drops the microphone on the mat and turns to leave. Sanders grabs Bodies shoulder, spinning him on his pivot to face Sanders, They begin trash talking, as Sanders pops him with a right handed fist stunning Bodie Styles, he then kicks him in the stomach, putting his head between his legs, and making a God pose, the crowd starts booing as Julia begins cheering Sanders on. William T. Justice just looks on in horror. Sanders hooks his arms up, and lifts him in the air! CRUXSHADOW! )


RS: Devastating move by Sanders! Bodie is in trouble!


(Sanders looks down at Bodie Styles, shaking his head. He slides out of the ring and grabs a table and slides it in the ring. He sits it up near the corner. He picks Bodie Styles up and puts him on the table in the middle of the ring. Sanders gets out onto the apron. He climbs the turnbuckle. Making another god pose as he looks at Julia. He points to the chair and he is instructing her. Julia raises the chair up and SMACK! She blasted Bodie Styles in the face with the chair! He is bleeding now. Sanders points to the fans doing crotch chops as Sanders dives off the ropes CRASH! He performed Bodies version of The Chosen One! on him through the table. Sanders puts a hand on his chest. He stands up, removing the Miami Heat jersey and throwing it down on Bodie Styles! Julia hands him another chair, setting it up in the middle of the ring. Sanders grabs William T. Justice in a headlock as Julia Hill begins undoing the handcuffs. The crowd is letting deafening boos out at what's going on)


TT: What could be going through the mind of Steve Sanders as he loses his mind!


CW: I think you’ve said it, I don’t think he’s thinking.


RS: Steve Sanders setting up William T. Justice for some sort of attack here. This… this isn’t good, folks.


CW: I hate to say it, but this may be going too far! Sanders might be causing problems for himself.


(Sanders pulls William T. Justice near the chair. He wraps him up. BLAM! William T. Justice face just got planted into the seat of the chair with “The Franchiser” diamond cutter! The chair is dented in half, as William T. Justice lies there, rolling off next to Bodie Styles, his face also busted open! The crowd is cheering and some are booing. The Chosen One grabs a microphone and the Colosseum World Heavyweight Title as he stands over Bodie Styles with the title pointed in his face as he brings the microphone up to his lips. He prepares to speak, but is inturrupted by music playing over the PA.


##Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck

Some nights I call it a draw

Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle

Some nights I wish they'd just fall off##


Sanders looks surprised and angry at the interruption.)


CW: ...the hell?


TT: Yeahh!!!!


(The video screen flashes with the colors red white and green, as the feel-good hit “Some Nights” by Fun. begins to play.


##But I still wake up, I still see your ghost

Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh

Whoa oh oh (What do I stand for?)

Whoa oh oh (What do I stand for?)

Most nights I don't know anymore…##


As the music kicks into a new gear two men step from backstage, but not just any two men they are Jean-Rene Sanchez and Miguel Desfers. Los Canadienses Fantasticos are dressed in full lucha-libre regalia, green-white-and red tights, emblazoned with maple leaves, flowing white and gold capes, and, of course, their ever-present wrestling masks. The two men are also carrying hockey sticks. They pause at the top of the ramp and strike heroic poses, hockey sticks held proudly in the air.


##Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh,

Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh##


LCF now lower their hockey sticks, pointing them at the two Regime members standing in the ring.


##This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?

Why don't we break the rules already?##


Sanchez and Desfers end their pose suddenly, and sprint down the ramp.)


CW: These guys, really?


TT: LOS CANDADIENSES FANTASTICOS!!! GO AMIGOS GO!!


(Sanders squares to fight, but Julia Hill takes one look at the stick-weilding masked maniacs, and pulls on her Chosen One’s arm, ordering him out of the ring.


##I was never one to believe the hype

Save that for the black and white

I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked,

But here they come again to jack my style##


LCF hit the ring just as Sanders and Hill are bailing out the opposite side. Sanchez kicks the battered chair in the center of the ring sending it sliding with speed across the mat towards Sanders, but the bent chair hangs up on the bottom rope, slowing it down enough for Sanders to catch it one-handed. Desfers speeds across the ring and takes a two-handed swing to the outside with his CCM cue. This titanic swingjust misses Julia Hill’s head, just brushing her hair. As he is extended over the ropes with his follow-through, Sanders takes the battered steel chair and swings, connecting with Desfers’ shoulder. Desfers collapses against the rope. Sanders prepares for a second shot, but Hill pulls him away, as Sanchez approaches. Instead Sanders raises his arm in celebration. Sanders and Hill circle the ring and make their way back up the ramp as Sanchez checks quickly with his partner before hustling over to check on the completely unconscious William T. Justice.


At the top of the ramp Sanders again pauses, and lifts his mic to speak.)


Sanders: The Regime has struck back! This is the beginning of the end you were all seeing about. Bodie Styles you are the prophetless entity in this whole situation. And her beckon has been answered! Tonight Bodie Styles you will be facing me in Three Stages of Hell. For the uninformed idiots watching their so called “hero” will be taking on me in a best of three falls. The first match is a street fight. The second match will be steel cage and if we need to have a third deciding winning match it will be a ladder match!


(“Immortal” by Adema hits as Sanders licks his lips looking down the ramp at the fallen Bodie Styles and William T. Justice. Julia starts smiling as Sanders puts the title on his shoulders. Sanders and Julia as they walk up the ramp to a chorus of boos. Sanders stops at the top of the ramp. Throwing the title up behind him and yelling at the top of his lungs a battle cry. We cut down to the announcer table as EMT’s rush to check on William. T Justice. Meanwhile Bodie Styles sits up looking at Sanders at the top of the ramp, blood spilling down his face as they both lock eyes.)