A cold winter's night in Nashville, Tennessee. The hotel room of EBWF's current World Champion Brian Kendrick was brimming with activity. Or, rather, it had been. Now was only the aftermath. He could be found leaning back in a chair that was near an open balcony window that allowed the blistering weather to pour in. Resting in a stool beside him was a half full bottle of Jack Daniels. More of them were scattered about the floor. His eyes were directed at the ceiling and his long hair dripped over the back of his chair. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of jeans.
Passed out in the bed, after a night of frivolity, was his valet Tiffany. Her messy blond hair covered her face. The lower half of her body was barely concealed by a blanket and she was only clad in a Midnight Gang t-shirt. It was white and the design consisted on an inverted cross with Brian Kendrick's eyes visible within the bastardized religious symbol.
Sitting on the foot of the bed was Kendrick's best friend Paul London. He was clad in a thick winter coat. He was busy rolling up a joint, rolling and applying the marijuana and sealing it shut with his tongue. He began to light it while giving a glance over to Tiffany.
| Paul London | So, did you two..?
| Brian Kendrick | I dunno. Maybe. I can't really remember. She thinks I look like McIntyre so maybe it's therapeutic or something.
The room was a complete mess so it was up to one's imagination to determine what had exactly gone down. London had taken a few puffs and passed the joint over to Kendrick. After inhaling the weed deeply into his lungs, he allowed the smoke to drift into the air.
| Paul London | How are ya feeling about the match? Third main event in a row.
| Brian Kendrick | Who cares? It's not like I'm going to win.
| Paul London | Aww, man, you gotta be positive.
| Brian Kendrick | Transitional. Champion. Jericho's gotta have his eight reign.
The joint was passed back to London.
| Brian Kendrick | Or maybe Punk politiced his way to getting another chance with the belt.
He was beginning to grow paranoid. Being a World Champion was stressful. Especially if the reasoning behind his reign was to be a "fresh face" to shop the promotion around for potential networks. If that was the case then it felt like the entire roster was riding on his back. If they didn't get a good deal who is to say the blame wouldn't fall on his shoulders? And all those god damn interviews they wanted him to do. He had become pretty good at dodging them. But it was taking it's toll. He was drinking and smoking more. He certainly would be on harder substances if it wouldn't have meant a suspension. At this point his life had become gyms and trashed hotel rooms.
| Paul London | C'mon. Phil is our friend. You know he wouldn't do that. He was all about you getting a run.
| Brian Kendrick | Yeah. Maybe.
Brian rose to his feet and finished off the bottle of Jack. He stepped out onto the balcony and allowed the chilling weather to hit him for a few moments. The bottle was thrown over the balcony and after a crashing sound a car alarm could be heard going off. He turned back into the room with a grin on his face.
| Brian Kendrick | Someone will pay for it.
| Paul London | You want this don't you? The belt?
| Brian Kendrick | Of course I do. That..
He motioned back towards the balcony.
| Brian Kendrick | ..is a way to get my name out there. I'm blurring the lines.
| Paul London | And wracking up hotel bills. Someone is going to start getting pissed.
| Brian Kendrick | They want real. The networks. Jericho's old news. Well, I think so anyway but I don't make the decisions. Phil did things his way and he could handle it but I'm doing things my way. We'll get prime time and everyone will be happy. Now help me through this television through that mirror.
Paul seemed very weary of this idea. But he was also very drunk and stoned as well. So he started to grin mischievously.
| Paul London | OK.
Having more than likely heard of the carnage that was happening in Brian's hotel room, Stevie Richards now stood in the door way. Or Michael Manna, his birth name. These instances seemed to happen quite often and the veteran's face showed this very clearly.
| Michael Manna | You are unprofessional. I don't like having to work with you. Does this have to happen at every stop? Do you care about the traditions of this business at all?
The lifting of the television came to a halt. Brian pulled his hair away from his face and looked his stablemate up and down.
| Brian Kendrick | I got you to main event a pay per view for the first time since..when? ECW? I think you should be pretty stoked about this.
| Michael Manna | No. I'm not. I've been in this business a long time and you're starting to hurt my reputation by being affiliated with you.
Kendrick nodded slowly as if he understood where Michael was coming from. Then he proceeded to whip another bottle alcohol at the dresser mirror behind him. Liquid and glass littered the floor.
| Brian Kendrick | There goes..your..reputation.
Manna shook his head in disgust and left the room.
| Paul London | Kind of a dick move, man.
| Brian Kendrick | I've probably got a few more days with that belt. I figure I might as well make the most of it.
Kendrick slumped lifelessly onto the bed beside Tiffany. She lightly stirred from her slumber but didn't awaken.
| Paul London | So..bad time to ask but..that wedding in Italy? Randy and Nic's?
| Brian Kendrick | Go without me. I'll just chill at home.
| Paul London | Yeah?
| Brian Kendrick | Yeah.
Even in his drunken state, Paul was starting to worry about his friends increasingly erratic behavior. But he figured the time off in the new year would probably do him a world of good. He decided it would be wise to roll Brian over onto his side in case he ended up vomiting in his sleep. He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.
------
The camera began with a view tilted towards the white sky as snow fell from it. It slowly panned downwards to reveal a field covered in frost from the cold weather. Brian Kendrick, wearing a simple jacket, sat upon a pair of objects concealed by a black tarp. His arms were wrapped around his waist and his head was lowered downwards. His highly sought after World Title could be found resting along his right shoulder. The temperature was low enough so that breath was visible.
| Brian Kendrick | I've struggled with respect my entire career. And you assume that once you become a World Champion that this struggle would go away. But that apparently is not the way things work around here.
His head was brought to it's proper upright position and it was difficult to determine what was going on in The Champion's head due to his blank expression.
| Brian Kendrick | Randy Orton declared that all former champions demanded respect and that was a quality that I lacked. He called me a second rate this or that. So, after about a month of running his mouth he finally decided to get into the ring with me. And I did what no else in this organization has ever been able to do. ..I killed..The Killer.
One would think that this statement would come equipped with a grin or smirk but Kendrick almost seemed bored.
| Brian Kendrick | And it was surprisingly..too easy. I was expecting this sense of euphoria but it felt strangely empty. Randy Orton held the title that I have now for over a year. He defeated any and all challengers. But in one night I was able to take him out. And I didn't need a group of elite soldiers to do it. I used bottom feeders. Hungry, starving, sharks. Because a successful group does not need to be made out of future World Champions or Hall of Famers. You just need bodies. Bodies that are willing to ensure that I remain on top. And that is precisely what I surround myself with. And you can disagree with my methods but you simply can't argue with my success..
Fingers drummed along the cold, golden plate of the World Title.
| Brian Kendrick | ..And yet..despite all that I have accomplished..I'm still underestimated. When I first began my accession I referred to as an "underdog." No, no, no. That's not right at all. Anyone who stands across the ring from me..they..are the true underdogs. Take a quick look at the last few relevant champions. Randy Orton. John Cena. Edge. CM Punk. Chris Jericho. I have defeated every single last one of them.
Pausing for a moment he gave a slight shrug.
| Brian Kendrick | True, I never actually had a match against Edge but I very vividly recall having his blood all over my hands. And who cares? He's standing in an unemployment line somewhere wondering where his life went wrong. The point is, while my reign has only been a short two months, I have always been dominant.
Pausing once more, he held up a finger as something had snapped into his memory.
| Brian Kendrick | Oh yeah. Despite all of these accolades, I remember Wes Ikeda, during his awe inspiring, commentary for Survivor Series stating that he could "beat me in a wrestling match or a street fight".
Kendrick's face was without a trace of amusement.
| Brian Kendrick | Wes you're lucky I don't just slit your throat. Because with your one last dying, gasping breath I would force you to apologize for bleeding on my shirt. You have this horrible habit of putting your foot in your mouth and living to regret it. But I digress. Let's talk about what's important here: Me. And the dilemma I'm currently facing.
Placing a hand on his cheek, he sighed heavily.
| Brian Kendrick | The one guy that supposedly could come anywhere close to me in the whole "unhinged" department? I already took him out. I didn't even get to play with him first. There is no one here currently on this roster that has what it takes to put me away for good. And it's depressing. Because that is really what I want. I want to push someone so far that they lose themselves and absolutely butcher me. I've had some degree of success in this endeavor with AJ Styles and John Cena but I still felt..unfulfilled. And sadly, Chris Jericho and CM Punk are not going to be able to give me what I want.
He shook his head and almost sounded depressed.
| Brian Kendrick | No matter what I do to Chris Jericho he only replies with..
Squinting his eyes, he lowered his voice and spoke in a tone that was like a less gruff Christian Bale in his role as Bat Man.
| Brian Kendrick | "You can't break me, Kendrick." ..I tried to assault his family..nothing. I ended the career of his best friend..nothing. I took the title he worked so hard to reclaim and guess what? Nothing. He simply does not have it in him to completely massacre someone. And I beat him. No excuses. No help. I did it. Clean as a sheet. I know Chris Jericho's limitations. If I push him hard enough he will simply bend to my will and give up. And where, do I ask, is the fun in that? I wanted Jericho to go wild and try to rip my spine out. But he just can't do it. No matter how badly he wants to have dull, boring, record breaking eighth World Title reign. It's never going to happen. It's ironic that he's suppressed in a prison of his own design and I'm going to beat him within the confides of a Hell in a Cell. Last time I squared off against Jericho I went so far as to carve "Y2J" into my palm with a dull razor. But I see now that it was a wasted effort on my part. Is Chris Jericho a world class athlete? Yes. Is he what most people think of when they envision a champion? Of course. Did he have a legendary career? Yeah, I guess. But he can't beat me. But because he is unable to reach down inside himself and become someone like me? He'll always be remembered for being, quite frankly, a spineless little bitch. A great wrestler who was technically sound and was, at his worst and darkest, capable of performing minor offensive deeds. But better than me? Not even close.
He proceeded to his next subject, someone he knew very well indeed.
| Brian Kendrick | Which brings me to my next opponent, CM Punk. I know Punk. I've fought with him and against him. And he IS capable of doing awful, horrible things. The last time I encountered him he broke my nose. And, I won't lie, it hurt. Punk can and will hurt someone. But I watched very closely as he and I and the rest of Elite beat down Chris Jericho again and again and again. But he always left just enough for Chris to pick himself back up. Because CM Punk will take someone out but he will not end a career. His does have a shred of honor in him and that is something I definitely lack. Punk will make you bleed but he will not lick that blood off of his fingers like I will. And Punk, deep down and as misguided as he may have been, really wanted to make a change with Elite. He wanted to remove everyone he felt wasn't worthy enough to call themselves a pro wrestler so we could have our own little utopia to build for a future. Except I never, ever wanted that. Punk wanted to burn this place down and rebuild. I just want to let it burn. Where he has failed as the leader of Elite, I have succeeded with The Midnight Gang. I am the best in the world because I AM the champion. The business that Punk loves so much is being led by myself and after Christmas Eve of Destruction, that isn't going to change. And I bet it just eats him up inside knowing that there is nothing he can do about it.
Kendrick rose to his feet and began to stare at the cloaked objects behind him.
| Brian Kendrick | And I guess there isn't anything I can do either. I'm not going to have anyone left to challenge me. If the world ends in 2012 I will die having lived an unfulfilled life. I will know that, despite my best efforts, I was not able to shape, contort or push someone hard enough to make them cripple me. But at least I'll die knowing that CM Punk and Chris Jericho, as proud as they are, went down as lesser than me. So, being the sucker for visuals that I am, I went ahead and pre-ordered the caskets of my opponents. I hope this isn't too..I dunno..VAMPIRO or something. But I'm going for poetic not spooky. Plus it's cold out here and I want to warm up..
He pushed the tarps aside to reveal a pair of crudely designed caskets. Splintered and brown. He pushed one of them open and let the camera man get a good look inside. Laying, with it's arms folded along it's chest, was a faceless, pale mannequin. Inside was a Canadian flag, the entire Fozzy discography, a guitar and the latest Y2J t-shirt.
| Brian Kendrick | Chris Jericho's career. 1990 to 2011. ..Jesus, really? Old. He leaves behind his wife Jessica and this three stupid, bratty blond haired kids. Wrestler, mediocre musician, family man. May he forever be remembered for..I don't know, something important. I never said I was a good eulogizer.
A generous amount of gasoline was applied to the casket from a bright red can that was resting in the snow. Kendrick trailed over to the second casket, traced his hands along it, and popped it open. A similar eerie mannequin was inside and this one was wearing a "Best In The World" t-shirt. A can of Pepsi and a couple of Misfit and D.A.R.E stickers were stuck inside.
| Brian Kendrick | CM Punk's career. 1999 to 2011. He leaves behind..no one because he is a giant asshole. May he forever be remembered for dating every female who has ever put on a pair of wrestling boots. And having a questionable taste in ink. Amen.
Similar to the first coffin, it was drenched in gasoline. A single match was able to set both of them ablaze as they were in such close vicinity to one another. The mini-inferno made quite a striking visual amongst all of the pure white now. Turning towards the camera, Kendrick spoke his final words.
| Brian Kendrick | I'm Brian Kendrick. I'm indestructible. And after Sunday night..I'll have taken over the world.
