Post by THE Tristan Slater on Mar 18, 2023 6:29:27 GMT -5
It all boils down to this.
A decade-long rivalry is finally going to come to an end as we kick off WrestleWars in style inside a fifteen-foot-high steel cage. Mark has made this about the past, he’s taken his share of personal shots at my integrity, and while I wish I could deny that I wasn’t an abuser of steroids eight years ago but I can’t. It happened. Unfortunately, that doesn’t define who I am or what I’ve done since kicking the juice almost as quickly as I used it. Now, I understand your passion, Mark, truly I do. You busted your ass to finally get to this point but didn’t you disappear for like five years? Nobody has ever nor will ever take away that you climbed to the top of the mountain because I too have been there more times than I can count; but each time I had to work harder, you have to push yourself to be that flag bearer. I’m proud of you for FINALLY making it to the top without the aid of a briefcase. It tickles my taint to see the levels of success you’ve attained because you’re finally reaching the potential that you always had yet never lived up to.
I saw you for what you could be back then.
What took ya so long to get here?
Everything that you’ve become doesn’t take away from the major fact in our relationship that any time we’ve met inside that ring one on one without your failsafe in place you has gotten your ass handed to you faster than a first-round knockout in Power Slap. I elected to allow you to call this shot because I can’t think of a better way to end this story than by beating you in the confines of the match you selected. Let the Cage be the judge, I like that! Let’s step inside and use it as our mistress. She enjoys shedding blood, she enjoys inflicting pain and suffering almost as much as I do. It’s a perfect pairing, a reuniting of old friends in an old battleground for one more hurrah.
I’ve been waiting for this for months.
Get ready, and strap in, because the days of you being invincible have just ended.
“Are you ready for this?”
The voice of John Cable asks as the scene fades in where we find Tristan Slater dressed like he’s Marty McFly while John Cable has on a white lab coat with his hair frayed up in the air, perhaps a finger in a light socket effect.
TRISTAN SLATER: Doc, I have to go back. Mark Flynn has to be stopped.
DOC CABLE: GREAT SCOTT!
Tristan flinches at the base of Doc’s voice.
TRISTAN SLATER: Seriously?
DOC CABLE: What?
Tristan shakes his head slightly from right to left. Doc Cable makes his way over to what appears to be a covered vehicle.
DOC CABLE: Are you sure you want to go back?
TRISTAN SLATER: The fate of Professional Wrestling is at stake.
The sheer serious tone from Tristan is damn near Oscar-worthy, you’d think he’s done this before. Doc nods his head in approval, and then yanks the cover off the car…
Tristan and Doc Cable step back and admire the sheer beauty of the Deleroan.
TRISTAN SLATER: She’s beautiful. Are you sure it works? I have one shot at saving the world of Wrestling from the mindless babble of a garden gnome cosplaying as a Pro Wrestler.
I could waste precious time talking about what has brought us to the dance, so if you don’t already know why we are here it just goes to show you don’t pay attention to the product outside the bubble of television time you occupy. Instead, I want to take a few minutes to walk you through how I’m going to use the environment you selected against you if not for anything else just to prove a point. Steel Cage matches are the epitome of an old-school blowoff match if there ever was one, and in this case, there isn’t any optimal path Mark can take that ends in any way other than his self-destruction.
Because that’s what you do, right?
You get so far inside your head that, play all kinds of games to the degree that your opponents beat themselves. Well, since this party started back up I’ve been one step ahead as I’ll continue to to securing the victory on the grandest stage the WGWF has to offer. Every talent has that one guy that they can’t seem to beat, their kryptonite if you will, that’s who and what I am in this equation to you, Mark. It pisses you off to no end that you don’t have a CLEAN and DECISIVE victory over me, it gets your goose to know that of everything you’ve accomplished over the years that BEATING me straight up is something that you haven’t ever nor WILL ever be able to say in regards to yours truly.
I’ve had your number since day one.
What the fuck makes you think it’s changed all these years later, pops?
DOC CABLE: Oh she works.
Doc states as he opens the driver’s side door and we get a peek inside the Delorean. Tristan eases his way into the front seat while Doc Cable gives him the rundown.
DOC CABLE: All you have to do is set that dial to the exact day, time, and location you want to appear. The Delorean will do the rest once you reach a top speed of eighty-eight miles per hour. When you hit eighty-eight flip this switch…
Doc Cable points to a switch that is next to the time/date/location display.
TRISTAN SLATER: What next?
DOC CABLE: Hold onto your ass because it’s going to be a wild ride.
TRISTAN SLATER: Okay, Doc. I’m ready.
DOC CABLE: Are you one hundred percent sure this is what you want to do?
Without any hesitation, Tristan turns the key in the ignition cranking up the Delorean. The scene fades to black only to reopen on an isolated stretch of highway under the cover of nightfall. Tristan is behind the wheel as Doc Cable is several miles down the highway looking at the Delorean through a pair of binoculars. Doc has a walkie-talkie in his left hand as he presses the side button and talks into the speaker.
DOC CABLE: Are you ready?
Fading into the Delorean Tristan Slater has a walkie-talkie and he answers.
TRISTAN SLATER: I was born ready.
Tristan cranks up the Delorean and pushes down on the accelerator which revs the engine up as we cut back to Doc Cable looking on through the binoculars.
DOC CABLE: Rock and roll!
Fading back into the Delorean Tristan throws it in drive and looks to hit the gas only to have the Delorean stall out almost immediately.
TRISTAN SLATER: What?
Tristan smacks the steering wheel with both hands while lashing out.
TRISTAN SLATER: Come on!
Tristan attempts to start the car again but it doesn’t turn over. We cut back to Doc Cable who continues to look on through the binoculars. Doc speaks to Tristan through the walkie.
DOC CABLE: What’s going on?
Fading back into Delorean we see Tristan showing signs of frustration in the tone of his voice as it cracks a little upon his response.
TRISTAN SLATER: I don’t know Doc! It won’t start.
Tristan attempts to crank the car a second time and yet again it doesn’t turn over.
TRISTAN SLATER: Any advance?
The only advice that I can give Mark Flynn as we head into this monumental showdown is to forget about what you think you know, forget about what you want to perceive this to be about other than the sheer disdain for a guy that is better than you in every sense of the words. You think that you’ve got me where you want me, and over the last six months I’ve had my wrist broken, I’ve been tased by Las Vegas’s finest, but I’ve made it my mission to upstage you when it mattered.
Does the West Coast Rumble ring any bells?
I believe I was the only guy that gave no fucks about leaving with the Championship over leaving knowing that YOU didn’t have it. That was just a small measure of paying you back for seven weeks in a cast that didn’t stop me, it didn’t deter me; as a matter of fact, it motivated me, BAD IDEA for such a little fella. All your bullshit, all your shenanigans, come crashing down in just a few short days when we take center stage at WrestleWars 8. Thank God above that you’ve got a little better over the years because I remember the days you struggled to make a valid point.
DOC CABLE: Great Scott…
Doc mutters under his breath before answering Tristan.
DOC CABLE: I don’t know either! Maybe smack the display or something?
Fading back inside the Delorean Tristan shrugs his shoulders, smacks the display, and then tries to turn the key one more time… nothing.
Several hours later we reopen to find the Delorean back inside an undisclosed large fieldhouse with the hood popped and Doc Cable at work while Tristan stands with his arms crossed watching.
TRISTAN SLATER: Doc, man, I don’t want to put any undue pressure on your shoulders but I have to go back in time to slip Mark’s dad a rubber. It’s the only way to make sure he doesn’t ever exist.
From under the hood, Doc Cable responds.
DOC CABLE: I’m working on it.
Tristan starts pacing back and forth before reaching into his back pocket where he retrieves his wallet. Tristan cracks it open and finds a trojan.
TRISTAN SLATER: This should suffice, ain’t no way anyone in the Flynn family tree is rocking a Magnum.
Doc Cable finishes up under the hood before peering over at Tristan.
DOC CABLE: Give her a shot.
Tristan makes his way back over to the driver’s side of the DeLorean sliding into the seat. Tristan cranks up the DeLorean with no problem.
TRISTAN SLATER: You did it! Way to go Doc!
Doc Cable closes the hood and runs his left hand through his white hair with a sense of satisfaction.
TRISTAN SLATER: Let’s make it happen.
The scene fades back out to an isolated stretch of highway as Doc Cable looks on through binoculars a mile or so up the road. Doc speaks into his walkie-talkie.
DOC CABLE: Let her rip, Tristan!
Fading back into the DeLorean we find Slater in the driver’s seat looking at the empty stretch of highway in front of him.
TRISTAN SLATER: Flynn, I’m coming for you.
Tristan turns over the key in the ignition and the DeLorean fires up with no problem bringing a shout of joy from Tristan.
TRISTAN SLATER: YESSSS!!!
Tristan snatches the walkie-talkie from the passenger seat and brings it toward his mouth as he looks down the stretch of highway in Doc’s direction.
TRISTAN SLATER: DOC YOU DID IT! IT WORKS!
Tristan tosses the walkie-talkie into the passenger seat. Fading back to Doc Cable as he looks on and speaks into his walkie.
DOC CABLE: Tristan, you must get up to eighty-eight miles per hour before you flip the switch.
Tristan’s voice is heard coming back through the walkie.
TRISTAN SLATER: I got it.
Doc then responds.
DOC CABLE: Make SURE you set the accurate date.
Fading back into the DeLorean Tristan is seen setting the year to December 1979, and the location of Detroit, Michigan. Tristan speaks back into the walkie.
TRISTAN SLATER: Everything is set!
Doc Cable’s voice chimes back in.
DOC CABLE: Let her rip!
Tristan throws the DeLorean into gear and hits the gas only to have it sputter and stall out AGAIN!
TRISTAN SLATER: What, no! NO!
Tristan tries to turn the DeLorean over but it doesn’t crank. Slater snatches his walkie.
TRISTAN SLATER: DOC NOTHING HAPPENED!
Fading back to Doc Cable where he mutters under his breath.
DOC CABLE: He couldn’t have taken the AxGrift, he HAD to have a DeLorean.
Doc then speaks into his walkie as he looks on intently.
DOC CABLE: What’s going on Tristan?
Fading back into the DeLorean Tristan is continuing to try and crank the car but nothing happens.
TRISTAN SLATER: Doc, we’re running out of time!
Doc’s voice is heard through the walkie.
DOC CABLE: No such thing.
Time hasn’t been good to you, has it, Mark? I say that because you gave up on the industry, walked away, re-emerged, and finally tasted a sliver of success. You’ve slain names like Peter Vaughn, Raion Kido, and Thaddeus Duke… but correct me if I’m wrong in saying that in over a year of actively competing THOSE are your marquee wins spanning your ENTIRE career. Nobody gives a flying fuck about ancient times, minus you of course, but here in the present if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times… I see through you.
I see the scared little boy trapped inside a midget’s body.
I see you for the insecurities you carry around with you.
I see you for the fraud that you’ve fooled people into believing is a thing.
Your success on Supercards, finally winning the Universal Title, and even signing on with CCPE doesn’t mean you’ve got the hot hand. What’s going to happen when we step foot inside the cage? What can you possibly bring to me that I haven’t already seen or dealt with? Survey says, nothing. Being witty isn’t going to get you the winner's purse this time because this isn’t a stand-up stage… it’s a goddamn war and one that YOU can’t afford to lose because when I beat you this stigma that Mark Flynn is the be-all and end-all goes up in smoke faster than a joint on the lips of Chris Page.
TRISTAN SLATER: It still won’t start!
Fading back to Doc Cable he is seen taking a deep sigh.
Back inside the massive fieldhouse, the hood is back up on the DeLorean and Doc Cable is steadily at work trying to diagnose and fix the issue at hand while Tristan is off on the other side of the fieldhouse looking at some of the many weird gadgets Doc has built over the years. Tristan spins around looking over at Doc who is under the hood cranking on something.
TRISTAN SLATER: How’s it coming along?
Doc Cable emerges from under the hood and directs his attention toward Slater.
DOC CABLE: If you ask me that one more time I’m going to throw you under the hood and slam it violently on top of you like the savage beast I am.
Tristan, puzzled by Doc’s response.
TRISTAN SLATER: Well now, that doesn’t sound like Doc Cable to me.
Doc Cable starts to show signs of frustration.
DOC CABLE: Listen here, you’re starting to piss me off! You wanted to go back in time, right? I have an Axgrift! You don’t need a DeLorean but that isn’t good enough! I’m trying to get this shit together so you can run off into the time/space continuum when you could have already been there!
Doc Cable starts to get louder and louder.
DOC CABLE: I know you want to save the world and I’m TRYING to help you.
Doc Cable walks over to another bay inside the fieldhouse where he yanks the cover off his ax grift.
DOC CABLE: Wanna go now? Get in and you’ll be there in seconds.
Tristan mouths the word “Wow” and nods his head a few times before he answers.
TRISTAN SLATER: Ummmm, but the script calls for a DeLorean.
Doc Cable yanks the white wig off his head and throws it down on the hay and dirt-covered floor.
DOC CABLE: It’s an ADAPTATION! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!
John Cable runs over and kicks the side of the DeLorean.
TRISTAN SLATER: Well that’s not going to help out the situation now is it?
DOC CABLE: Fuck it.
A loud bell is heard followed by a deep voice screaming out.
“CUT!”
And then we hear the same voice.
“That was awesome!”
What’s not going to be awesome is the shape I’m going to leave you in. You are going to bleed, you’re going to sweat, and you’re going to pay the price for what it means to call yourself a Main Event player in our industry. You can come at me with all the bullshit you want; talk about the past, talk about how I’m rarely on WGWF television like I’m not out actively competing elsewhere, and please continue to pretend that you are on a pedestal because it’s going to make that victory so much sweeter to taste.
I’ve made no bones about it that you are exactly why I’m here.
But unlike Dane Preston and J Mont, who seem content with just talking shit in cyberspace with zero intentions of getting in the ring for either of them, I’ve only got eyes for you. I’ve got eyes on putting the final nail in the coffin of Mark Flynn, I’ve got eyes for getting the ultimate closure anywhere on the planet regardless if it’s a day, a month, a year, or even a decade if we meet again the bottom line will always remain that THE Tristan Slater is greater than Twinkle Toes Mark Flynn.
I’m going to smack the shit out of you, Mark.
I’m going to humble you.
I’m going to embarrass you to the degree you’re going to wake up next week looking for more plastic surgery; I mean, the last time you went from this.
To this.
The only logical question to ask is what’s the next big transformation going to be when you have to swallow that horse pill known as your pride when you have to look your CCPE brethren in the eyes when you have to look your family in the eyes when you have to look Chris Page in the eyes and admit that you have always and will always be nothing but an overhyped midget that can’t ride all the rides at Six Flags. I don’t need to go back to the future to squash the myth that guys like you get to the top when guys like me aren’t around to stop you, I don’t need to slip your old man a rubber to stop you from behind remotely relevant in our industry because all that needs to be done is putting you down for God and the World to see… again. Who knows Mark, maybe after I’m done making you my two-bit bitch at WrestleWars I might just rear my head in the XWF and take away that strap of gold that you seem to be so proud of considering you and Peter Vaughn are the only REAL names of any value in the XWF with a level of talent to match. It's easy to be the man when the level of talent on the roster wouldn’t know a REAL Main Event if it walked up and slapped them in the face! Wait, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t show up on their program if their lives depended on it because there’s nothing worse than a Loverboy who plays the political game running the show.
Maybe that’s how you FINALLY got to the top.
Don’t get me wrong, yeah I’ll poke a lot of fun at all of that but it doesn’t take away from your accomplishments here in the WGWF, I mean you’ve surely shown us all that you can beat Samatha Vox.
You’ve shown us that you can DOMINATE enhancement talent on Dark.
But you know what else you’ve shown us? You’ve shown us that in any match that I’m a part of from Six Man tags to West Coast Rumble’s, you choke harder than the Dallas Cowboys on any given Sunday! You are in for a very rude awakening my dear little fella because come WrestleWars 8 that trend is going to continue as you are going be left in a broken heap looking up at the lights wondering what the fuck just happened to you.
In the words of Jim Morrison- The time to hesitate is through.
I am THE Tristan Slater… and for old time's sake… I approve of this message.
A decade-long rivalry is finally going to come to an end as we kick off WrestleWars in style inside a fifteen-foot-high steel cage. Mark has made this about the past, he’s taken his share of personal shots at my integrity, and while I wish I could deny that I wasn’t an abuser of steroids eight years ago but I can’t. It happened. Unfortunately, that doesn’t define who I am or what I’ve done since kicking the juice almost as quickly as I used it. Now, I understand your passion, Mark, truly I do. You busted your ass to finally get to this point but didn’t you disappear for like five years? Nobody has ever nor will ever take away that you climbed to the top of the mountain because I too have been there more times than I can count; but each time I had to work harder, you have to push yourself to be that flag bearer. I’m proud of you for FINALLY making it to the top without the aid of a briefcase. It tickles my taint to see the levels of success you’ve attained because you’re finally reaching the potential that you always had yet never lived up to.
I saw you for what you could be back then.
What took ya so long to get here?
Everything that you’ve become doesn’t take away from the major fact in our relationship that any time we’ve met inside that ring one on one without your failsafe in place you has gotten your ass handed to you faster than a first-round knockout in Power Slap. I elected to allow you to call this shot because I can’t think of a better way to end this story than by beating you in the confines of the match you selected. Let the Cage be the judge, I like that! Let’s step inside and use it as our mistress. She enjoys shedding blood, she enjoys inflicting pain and suffering almost as much as I do. It’s a perfect pairing, a reuniting of old friends in an old battleground for one more hurrah.
I’ve been waiting for this for months.
Get ready, and strap in, because the days of you being invincible have just ended.
“Are you ready for this?”
The voice of John Cable asks as the scene fades in where we find Tristan Slater dressed like he’s Marty McFly while John Cable has on a white lab coat with his hair frayed up in the air, perhaps a finger in a light socket effect.
TRISTAN SLATER: Doc, I have to go back. Mark Flynn has to be stopped.
DOC CABLE: GREAT SCOTT!
Tristan flinches at the base of Doc’s voice.
TRISTAN SLATER: Seriously?
DOC CABLE: What?
Tristan shakes his head slightly from right to left. Doc Cable makes his way over to what appears to be a covered vehicle.
DOC CABLE: Are you sure you want to go back?
TRISTAN SLATER: The fate of Professional Wrestling is at stake.
The sheer serious tone from Tristan is damn near Oscar-worthy, you’d think he’s done this before. Doc nods his head in approval, and then yanks the cover off the car…
Tristan and Doc Cable step back and admire the sheer beauty of the Deleroan.
TRISTAN SLATER: She’s beautiful. Are you sure it works? I have one shot at saving the world of Wrestling from the mindless babble of a garden gnome cosplaying as a Pro Wrestler.
I could waste precious time talking about what has brought us to the dance, so if you don’t already know why we are here it just goes to show you don’t pay attention to the product outside the bubble of television time you occupy. Instead, I want to take a few minutes to walk you through how I’m going to use the environment you selected against you if not for anything else just to prove a point. Steel Cage matches are the epitome of an old-school blowoff match if there ever was one, and in this case, there isn’t any optimal path Mark can take that ends in any way other than his self-destruction.
Because that’s what you do, right?
You get so far inside your head that, play all kinds of games to the degree that your opponents beat themselves. Well, since this party started back up I’ve been one step ahead as I’ll continue to to securing the victory on the grandest stage the WGWF has to offer. Every talent has that one guy that they can’t seem to beat, their kryptonite if you will, that’s who and what I am in this equation to you, Mark. It pisses you off to no end that you don’t have a CLEAN and DECISIVE victory over me, it gets your goose to know that of everything you’ve accomplished over the years that BEATING me straight up is something that you haven’t ever nor WILL ever be able to say in regards to yours truly.
I’ve had your number since day one.
What the fuck makes you think it’s changed all these years later, pops?
DOC CABLE: Oh she works.
Doc states as he opens the driver’s side door and we get a peek inside the Delorean. Tristan eases his way into the front seat while Doc Cable gives him the rundown.
DOC CABLE: All you have to do is set that dial to the exact day, time, and location you want to appear. The Delorean will do the rest once you reach a top speed of eighty-eight miles per hour. When you hit eighty-eight flip this switch…
Doc Cable points to a switch that is next to the time/date/location display.
TRISTAN SLATER: What next?
DOC CABLE: Hold onto your ass because it’s going to be a wild ride.
TRISTAN SLATER: Okay, Doc. I’m ready.
DOC CABLE: Are you one hundred percent sure this is what you want to do?
Without any hesitation, Tristan turns the key in the ignition cranking up the Delorean. The scene fades to black only to reopen on an isolated stretch of highway under the cover of nightfall. Tristan is behind the wheel as Doc Cable is several miles down the highway looking at the Delorean through a pair of binoculars. Doc has a walkie-talkie in his left hand as he presses the side button and talks into the speaker.
DOC CABLE: Are you ready?
Fading into the Delorean Tristan Slater has a walkie-talkie and he answers.
TRISTAN SLATER: I was born ready.
Tristan cranks up the Delorean and pushes down on the accelerator which revs the engine up as we cut back to Doc Cable looking on through the binoculars.
DOC CABLE: Rock and roll!
Fading back into the Delorean Tristan throws it in drive and looks to hit the gas only to have the Delorean stall out almost immediately.
TRISTAN SLATER: What?
Tristan smacks the steering wheel with both hands while lashing out.
TRISTAN SLATER: Come on!
Tristan attempts to start the car again but it doesn’t turn over. We cut back to Doc Cable who continues to look on through the binoculars. Doc speaks to Tristan through the walkie.
DOC CABLE: What’s going on?
Fading back into Delorean we see Tristan showing signs of frustration in the tone of his voice as it cracks a little upon his response.
TRISTAN SLATER: I don’t know Doc! It won’t start.
Tristan attempts to crank the car a second time and yet again it doesn’t turn over.
TRISTAN SLATER: Any advance?
The only advice that I can give Mark Flynn as we head into this monumental showdown is to forget about what you think you know, forget about what you want to perceive this to be about other than the sheer disdain for a guy that is better than you in every sense of the words. You think that you’ve got me where you want me, and over the last six months I’ve had my wrist broken, I’ve been tased by Las Vegas’s finest, but I’ve made it my mission to upstage you when it mattered.
Does the West Coast Rumble ring any bells?
I believe I was the only guy that gave no fucks about leaving with the Championship over leaving knowing that YOU didn’t have it. That was just a small measure of paying you back for seven weeks in a cast that didn’t stop me, it didn’t deter me; as a matter of fact, it motivated me, BAD IDEA for such a little fella. All your bullshit, all your shenanigans, come crashing down in just a few short days when we take center stage at WrestleWars 8. Thank God above that you’ve got a little better over the years because I remember the days you struggled to make a valid point.
DOC CABLE: Great Scott…
Doc mutters under his breath before answering Tristan.
DOC CABLE: I don’t know either! Maybe smack the display or something?
Fading back inside the Delorean Tristan shrugs his shoulders, smacks the display, and then tries to turn the key one more time… nothing.
Several hours later we reopen to find the Delorean back inside an undisclosed large fieldhouse with the hood popped and Doc Cable at work while Tristan stands with his arms crossed watching.
TRISTAN SLATER: Doc, man, I don’t want to put any undue pressure on your shoulders but I have to go back in time to slip Mark’s dad a rubber. It’s the only way to make sure he doesn’t ever exist.
From under the hood, Doc Cable responds.
DOC CABLE: I’m working on it.
Tristan starts pacing back and forth before reaching into his back pocket where he retrieves his wallet. Tristan cracks it open and finds a trojan.
TRISTAN SLATER: This should suffice, ain’t no way anyone in the Flynn family tree is rocking a Magnum.
Doc Cable finishes up under the hood before peering over at Tristan.
DOC CABLE: Give her a shot.
Tristan makes his way back over to the driver’s side of the DeLorean sliding into the seat. Tristan cranks up the DeLorean with no problem.
TRISTAN SLATER: You did it! Way to go Doc!
Doc Cable closes the hood and runs his left hand through his white hair with a sense of satisfaction.
TRISTAN SLATER: Let’s make it happen.
The scene fades back out to an isolated stretch of highway as Doc Cable looks on through binoculars a mile or so up the road. Doc speaks into his walkie-talkie.
DOC CABLE: Let her rip, Tristan!
Fading back into the DeLorean we find Slater in the driver’s seat looking at the empty stretch of highway in front of him.
TRISTAN SLATER: Flynn, I’m coming for you.
Tristan turns over the key in the ignition and the DeLorean fires up with no problem bringing a shout of joy from Tristan.
TRISTAN SLATER: YESSSS!!!
Tristan snatches the walkie-talkie from the passenger seat and brings it toward his mouth as he looks down the stretch of highway in Doc’s direction.
TRISTAN SLATER: DOC YOU DID IT! IT WORKS!
Tristan tosses the walkie-talkie into the passenger seat. Fading back to Doc Cable as he looks on and speaks into his walkie.
DOC CABLE: Tristan, you must get up to eighty-eight miles per hour before you flip the switch.
Tristan’s voice is heard coming back through the walkie.
TRISTAN SLATER: I got it.
Doc then responds.
DOC CABLE: Make SURE you set the accurate date.
Fading back into the DeLorean Tristan is seen setting the year to December 1979, and the location of Detroit, Michigan. Tristan speaks back into the walkie.
TRISTAN SLATER: Everything is set!
Doc Cable’s voice chimes back in.
DOC CABLE: Let her rip!
Tristan throws the DeLorean into gear and hits the gas only to have it sputter and stall out AGAIN!
TRISTAN SLATER: What, no! NO!
Tristan tries to turn the DeLorean over but it doesn’t crank. Slater snatches his walkie.
TRISTAN SLATER: DOC NOTHING HAPPENED!
Fading back to Doc Cable where he mutters under his breath.
DOC CABLE: He couldn’t have taken the AxGrift, he HAD to have a DeLorean.
Doc then speaks into his walkie as he looks on intently.
DOC CABLE: What’s going on Tristan?
Fading back into the DeLorean Tristan is continuing to try and crank the car but nothing happens.
TRISTAN SLATER: Doc, we’re running out of time!
Doc’s voice is heard through the walkie.
DOC CABLE: No such thing.
Time hasn’t been good to you, has it, Mark? I say that because you gave up on the industry, walked away, re-emerged, and finally tasted a sliver of success. You’ve slain names like Peter Vaughn, Raion Kido, and Thaddeus Duke… but correct me if I’m wrong in saying that in over a year of actively competing THOSE are your marquee wins spanning your ENTIRE career. Nobody gives a flying fuck about ancient times, minus you of course, but here in the present if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times… I see through you.
I see the scared little boy trapped inside a midget’s body.
I see you for the insecurities you carry around with you.
I see you for the fraud that you’ve fooled people into believing is a thing.
Your success on Supercards, finally winning the Universal Title, and even signing on with CCPE doesn’t mean you’ve got the hot hand. What’s going to happen when we step foot inside the cage? What can you possibly bring to me that I haven’t already seen or dealt with? Survey says, nothing. Being witty isn’t going to get you the winner's purse this time because this isn’t a stand-up stage… it’s a goddamn war and one that YOU can’t afford to lose because when I beat you this stigma that Mark Flynn is the be-all and end-all goes up in smoke faster than a joint on the lips of Chris Page.
TRISTAN SLATER: It still won’t start!
Fading back to Doc Cable he is seen taking a deep sigh.
Back inside the massive fieldhouse, the hood is back up on the DeLorean and Doc Cable is steadily at work trying to diagnose and fix the issue at hand while Tristan is off on the other side of the fieldhouse looking at some of the many weird gadgets Doc has built over the years. Tristan spins around looking over at Doc who is under the hood cranking on something.
TRISTAN SLATER: How’s it coming along?
Doc Cable emerges from under the hood and directs his attention toward Slater.
DOC CABLE: If you ask me that one more time I’m going to throw you under the hood and slam it violently on top of you like the savage beast I am.
Tristan, puzzled by Doc’s response.
TRISTAN SLATER: Well now, that doesn’t sound like Doc Cable to me.
Doc Cable starts to show signs of frustration.
DOC CABLE: Listen here, you’re starting to piss me off! You wanted to go back in time, right? I have an Axgrift! You don’t need a DeLorean but that isn’t good enough! I’m trying to get this shit together so you can run off into the time/space continuum when you could have already been there!
Doc Cable starts to get louder and louder.
DOC CABLE: I know you want to save the world and I’m TRYING to help you.
Doc Cable walks over to another bay inside the fieldhouse where he yanks the cover off his ax grift.
DOC CABLE: Wanna go now? Get in and you’ll be there in seconds.
Tristan mouths the word “Wow” and nods his head a few times before he answers.
TRISTAN SLATER: Ummmm, but the script calls for a DeLorean.
Doc Cable yanks the white wig off his head and throws it down on the hay and dirt-covered floor.
DOC CABLE: It’s an ADAPTATION! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!
John Cable runs over and kicks the side of the DeLorean.
TRISTAN SLATER: Well that’s not going to help out the situation now is it?
DOC CABLE: Fuck it.
A loud bell is heard followed by a deep voice screaming out.
“CUT!”
And then we hear the same voice.
“That was awesome!”
What’s not going to be awesome is the shape I’m going to leave you in. You are going to bleed, you’re going to sweat, and you’re going to pay the price for what it means to call yourself a Main Event player in our industry. You can come at me with all the bullshit you want; talk about the past, talk about how I’m rarely on WGWF television like I’m not out actively competing elsewhere, and please continue to pretend that you are on a pedestal because it’s going to make that victory so much sweeter to taste.
I’ve made no bones about it that you are exactly why I’m here.
But unlike Dane Preston and J Mont, who seem content with just talking shit in cyberspace with zero intentions of getting in the ring for either of them, I’ve only got eyes for you. I’ve got eyes on putting the final nail in the coffin of Mark Flynn, I’ve got eyes for getting the ultimate closure anywhere on the planet regardless if it’s a day, a month, a year, or even a decade if we meet again the bottom line will always remain that THE Tristan Slater is greater than Twinkle Toes Mark Flynn.
I’m going to smack the shit out of you, Mark.
I’m going to humble you.
I’m going to embarrass you to the degree you’re going to wake up next week looking for more plastic surgery; I mean, the last time you went from this.
To this.
The only logical question to ask is what’s the next big transformation going to be when you have to swallow that horse pill known as your pride when you have to look your CCPE brethren in the eyes when you have to look your family in the eyes when you have to look Chris Page in the eyes and admit that you have always and will always be nothing but an overhyped midget that can’t ride all the rides at Six Flags. I don’t need to go back to the future to squash the myth that guys like you get to the top when guys like me aren’t around to stop you, I don’t need to slip your old man a rubber to stop you from behind remotely relevant in our industry because all that needs to be done is putting you down for God and the World to see… again. Who knows Mark, maybe after I’m done making you my two-bit bitch at WrestleWars I might just rear my head in the XWF and take away that strap of gold that you seem to be so proud of considering you and Peter Vaughn are the only REAL names of any value in the XWF with a level of talent to match. It's easy to be the man when the level of talent on the roster wouldn’t know a REAL Main Event if it walked up and slapped them in the face! Wait, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t show up on their program if their lives depended on it because there’s nothing worse than a Loverboy who plays the political game running the show.
Maybe that’s how you FINALLY got to the top.
Don’t get me wrong, yeah I’ll poke a lot of fun at all of that but it doesn’t take away from your accomplishments here in the WGWF, I mean you’ve surely shown us all that you can beat Samatha Vox.
You’ve shown us that you can DOMINATE enhancement talent on Dark.
But you know what else you’ve shown us? You’ve shown us that in any match that I’m a part of from Six Man tags to West Coast Rumble’s, you choke harder than the Dallas Cowboys on any given Sunday! You are in for a very rude awakening my dear little fella because come WrestleWars 8 that trend is going to continue as you are going be left in a broken heap looking up at the lights wondering what the fuck just happened to you.
In the words of Jim Morrison- The time to hesitate is through.
I am THE Tristan Slater… and for old time's sake… I approve of this message.
