Title: Intentions
Featuring: Tom Sawyer
Date: 9/13/2012
Location: DEFIANCEWRESTLING.com video updater
Establishing shot: An old Black man sitting on a steel chair before the camera, sitting in front of a big black-on-red DEFIANCE banner. He... happens to be wearing a DEFIANCE polo shirt. His moustache, long since gone white with the passing of the years, is finely trimmed. His soul patch is classy. His bald head shines in the spotlights, and he adjusts his glasses thoughtfully.
“Y' see, there was this tag team, in the original DEFIANCE run.”
Zoomed-in, fast-paced footage of a blurry man doing a flying dropkick to one hapless victim. As a blurry man in gray came running up to the dropkicker, a man in blue snapped a roundhouse kick into the man in gray's face.
"They weren't exactly your typical superstar tag team, y'see."
The old man gave a lazy grin, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. He brought a hand up and adjusted those specs, watching someone whose face was off-camera.
"They could have easily flopped, here in DEFIANCE."
Someone owned a copy of AfterEffects, because as the feed switched off to a four-man showdown, all four men were silhouettes. Two of 'em towered over the other two, but the shorter guys didn't seem to give a blip. They weren't backing down.
"They were too short. They didn't have the "superstar attitude" that so many of th' other DEFIANCE big deals had. One was old, one was green as grass. Th' list of faults goes on and on and on. But they had one thing in spades, jack."
Cut back to the old man, holding one finger up, eyes wide in delight.
"Heart, son. They had heart, and that's what made the difference! Harper was a cool veteran, and knew how t' tie you up in a knot no sweat. And that kid Tom? He'd never stop coming, when it was a real fight with a real meaning."
The old man brought that finger around, tapping himself on the chest.
"When I recruited The Foreshadowing, they both were real excited to see me. But... Tom never seemed surprised. He was real sure he was gonna make it someday, even if he didn't say so. And I knew he was right."
The old man gave a cackle, slapping his knee with one hand.
"He won tag titles, tag tournaments, and even some big battle royale! No matter who you are, if you're someone that kid wants to fight, he'll come at you! Even more fiercely if you're some big sucker!"
Cut to black-and-white footage. Tom Sawyer, with shaking fists and his hair wildly flying, as Edward White adopts a boxer's pose.
"He's got a bee in his boot about somethin'. And he gets to be in the place he loves while he does it. He got t' recharge his batteries and eat that home cookin', and now he's back for more."
Flash to a pinfall: Tom on one half of V.A.M.N. for the first pin-count. Flash to another pinfall: Tom on one of the Untouchables for the two-count. Flash to another pinfall: Tom on Cancer Jiles for the three, and then the furious clanging of the ringbell!
"Three World Tag Team reigns. All the youth an' energy in the world. A devotion to the sport deeper than any other part of him. And now, he's got a true mission?"
Cut back to the old man, whose DEFIANCE nametag, finally in focus during a zoomin on his face, reads Luther.
"I'd fear to tread in his path, no matter who I was. It could be Victor Mandrake or Sylo or the Trendkiller or Eduardo Domingo... When I scout a talent, I do a hell of a job, right?"
Luther broke into a broad grin, as the camera faded out.
"Boys, it's been a long, long road for me to get here."
Tom Sawyer's voice carries a timbre in it these days. Something... stronger than he used to have in his voice. Maybe making up for the lack of Lucas. In his yellow-and-orange tights, Tom stands before the camera, a yellow-and-red t-shirt on.
SAWYER RULES across the chest, in jagged red writing on the yellow backround. Copyright infringement didn't matter across realities.
Ahem.
Tom spread his hands before the camera.
"FROM THE EIGHTH DIMENSION, TO THE FIFTEENTH TIME ZONE OF THE THIRD PLANET OF THE SOL SYSTEM, I BRING YOU PROMISES OF LIGHT AND BEAMS OF CELESTIAL JOY!"
One eye went big, one eye went small.
"Christopher Barton, you ill-tempered goatherd, you walk into MY match and suckerpunch ME in the temple and expect to get away with it? NEXT TIME, I'LL DO A FLIP BEFORE I HIT YOU WITH THE ODE TO MADNESS, AND GET THE DAMAGE MULTIPLIER!"
Sawyer lunged forward, that offensive elbow lashing at the camera, missing by mere inches!
"And Michel LaLiberte, you've been takin' tutelage with a man I respect greatly. HIS SHINY HALL OF TROPHIES CAN BE STACKED UP THERE WITH ANY MAN'S!"
Tom had explosively thrust a hand into the air, index jabbing the heavens.
"But you aren't Christian Light. AND I'M NOT SOME CHUMP THAT AN INJURED MAN CAN DUPE!"
Tommy brought that hand slowly back down, eyes narrowing. Index and thumb were extended, miming a gun for his very-007-stance.
"I'm Tom Sawyer, and I'm gonna make my stand against chaos in DEFIANCE. I can feel the rafters shake, I can sense the leylines being snapped off, rolled up, and bearing us down."
Tom turned, aiming that fingergun at the camera, one eye shut, the other sighting along the barrel.
"THE UNIVERSAL UNMAKER APPROACHETH! And I, for one..."
Tom mimed a single shot, and the camera's view exploded to static, a glass shattering somewhere. Tom's voice, barely a whisper, managed to carry through the mike. A throaty croak, like that of a man possessed by the cruelest of addictions... A idea.
"Intend to ride through..."
Because he had to.
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