APW = Crack'd (O2A)

[Kenisha Williams]

Rick Ross: Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'
Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'
Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'
Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'
Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'
Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'
Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'

Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm, everyday I'm, everyday I'm hustlin'
Ev-ev-ev-everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Ev-ev-ev-everyday I'm hustlin'
Ev-ev-everyday I'm, everyday I'm, everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin' hustlin' hustlin' hust-hustlin'

That's the sound you hear as that M.V.P. balloon tent is blown up on the stage. Everyday I'm Hustlin' by Rick Ross invades the airwaves through the PA system. Didn't take long for the crowd's volume to slowly increase at the sound. Emerging from the smoke that poured out of the flaps, Jay Crack comes walking out onto the APW stage. Smirk crossing his lips. He walked down the ramp. Waving his hands up and down in the air. Getting the crowd amped. He made his way around the ring. Finding his way over to the steel steps. Jay walked up the steps onto the ring apron. Stopping for a moment. He looked out to the crowd from the apron. Nodding his head. Liking what he was seeing. The crowd was happy to see him. They cheered. That was always a good sign. He then turned and climbed into the ring through the ropes. Walking over to the middle of the ring. Before making a quick run over to the ropes. Bouncing off. He comes to a slow halt in the middle of the ring. Slapping the mat real quick before holding his arms up in the air. The fans cheering for him louder as he does so. He then begins to backstep towards the ropes he bounced off of. He requested a microphone from one of the ringside staff members. Which they would quickly rush one to him as he waited. Now with microphone in hand, he begins to backstep. Motioning with his free hand for his music to be cut. Once his music was turned off and he was left with the sound of the screaming crowd. He lifted the microphone to his lips slowly. Time to get the party started...

"Now... It seems that this company is in dire need of a reality check. It's seriously in need of a make over. Really now... I don't know how many times I've got to come out here. Verbally assassinate a person on the mic. They think they are big and bad. Just to get themselves slapped down and beaten by yours truly. True. I have lost. It's not like I'm undefeated. But one on one? None of these niggas have been able to hold me. None of these niggas have been able to stop me in singles competition. I've faced three people in this company by myself. And each one had tasted defeat. Which leads me to believe that these fools can't beat me by themselves. It's not in them. They need help. They need four or five other people to help wear me down. You see... I've been basically carrying this goddamn company since I've started. I've pretty much been the only interest in this company. You want proof? Let's go down the list. Shall we....?"

He pauses for a moment. Looking out to the cheering crowd. Nodding his head. He knew they wanted to hear what he had to say. And boy did he have something to say.

"Platinum Edition. Jacques Argentium. I don't even know where to start. I haven't met the nigga. But from what I have seen... This dude is just.... bad. He goes from being a no talent nobody... To a stupid ass no talent nobody. Really now. You going to go and jump on the emo tip? You really going to jump on camera... Blow your brains out supposedly... And that's going to get you noticed? You know what that gets you? That gets you nothing. You don't get shit. You trying to shoot yourself in the dome for attention? Come on now. Emo child... You crying for attention. How about this...? You pack your bags. Go home. And shoot yourself for real. Because in all honesty... That shit you did... That was fuckin' retarded nigga. That was just plain fuckin' retarded."

Shaking his head in disappointment.

"Next up we have... Skullinator. Goddamn. What the hell happened here? You fall into a Halloween store or some shit? What the hell are you wearing? Are you reject movie monster number 4,837,348,470,975,786,474,739? Come on. Seriously. What the fuck is with the get up? You look like you dressed yourself when you know goddamn well your mother should be helping you in the morning. Stalking these halls like you supposed to scare someone. Pfft. Bitch please. Don't try to come around here with that weak ass "Your Soul Is Mine," shit. Get more original. Put your horror movie collection down and rework your waredrobe. Seriously... I can hook you up with someone in Hollywood if you trying to come off with the monster effect."

Taking a small breath. He sighed lightly. Only two in and he was beginning to just get sad for this company.

"Joe Bruiser. An APW Original, I see. Heh, heh. I know who you are. Got that punk ass slapped up by my nigga Murda. Now you walking these halls, talking about what you did last season. Screaming why you deserve this and that by bringing up last season. It's a new year nigga. It's a new season. None of that shit matters now. None of that shit matters at this point. Do you see anyone from last season? Not many. You need to prove yourself against the niggas that are here. You beat me. Yes. You beat me in a multiple man match in the same night I had two other matches. Don't try to say you beat me. You didn't. You and five other people beat me. Don't fool yourself nigga. You think you on top cause of last season's accomplishments? Get to the back of the line. I'm running the show now. APW is now mine niggas. You better recognize."

Smirk crossing his lips. Nodding his head. He didn't give a damn.

"Max Cutter. Tsk, tsk... Mr. I'm A Tough S.O.B. Yeah. You're really tough. You shut your mouth real quick when I put you in your place. Then you went on to thoroughly and properly get that ass kicked all around the ring by me. Yeah. You're really tough. Ha! You soft nigga. You soft. You ain't tough. You just another weak ass soft nigga trying to puff his chest out and prove to everyone he's a real man cause he's tough. Pffft. Seriously. This isn't middle school nigga. You don't need to proclaim how hard you are. Prove it in the ring. But nah. You fell short and got laid out for the three count by me. Come one better. And next time... Do have the balls to keep responding... That shutting up shit you pulled really got a nigga's nerves."

Nodding his head. He shook his head. Laughing to himself. Bitches better learn to keep up with the nigga Jay Crack.

"Shia Storm. My Toronto English teacher. This nigga wants to get all mad and throw a hissy fit over me calling him a nigga. Really now. I use the word freely. I use it daily. And you want to get mad about it? I wasn't even insulting you with it. But nah. Nigga done took it personal. And what happened? You got that ass beat too. I have to hand it to you though. You took me to my limits and actually was able to hold a full conversation with me in the ring. Kudos for that. But all in all... You still ain't shit. Get on my level next time and I'll learn you a thing or two."

Looking out to the stage. Seeing if anyone was coming. Pausing. Gotta catch his breath. He's got plenty more to go.

"James Hunter. You know... I ain't ever met you before but supposedly you're some kind of big thing according to a nigga named Cruz Corona who was riding your jock. But I ain't really seen anything special about you. I really don't. I don't see what all the hype is about. You'd get that ass smacked up too just like everyone else on the roster. The shit is pretty damn sad. I thought this place was jumping. I thought this place was going to be the next big thing. I heard great things about this company last season. Where the fuck did all the talent go? Ugh... I don't even know anymore. Shit is just sad."

Another shake of his head. Disappointment. Sadness. This company was pretty fucked as far as Jay was concerned.

"Anthony "Bribe" Conners. Where the hell did you go? You just up and... disappeared. I met you. Sat in the Tower Lounge and chilled for a bit. Thought you could have had some real potential in this company. Thought you would give me some competition in the ring. Now you just another ghost in this place. Up and disappeared. Goddamn. If you was scared, just say you was scared. Don't take the bitch move and run away. Don't run out on the company like a bitch if you scared. Punk ass. You lost points and respect for dipping out on the company. Shit just... sad. It's fuckin' sad...."

Shrugging his shoulders. Shake of the head. He sighed. Thought he wasn't going to be the only one doing damage in this company. Guess he was wrong.

"Cruz Corona. Oh yeah. You. You're the saddest of the bunch. Zoning out in the middle of the ring? What the fuck kind of shit is that? Who the hell zones when your in the ring? I'm standing here. Telling you how much you fuckin' suck at your job... And you turn into some damn space cadet and zone off into your own little world. What happened? You got that ass beat in the middle of the ring. Just like everyone else. You spaced out. You zoned. And you got your damn head kicked off. Laid out. One. Two. Three. Goddamn does this company need some talent. These bastards are in need of some serious talent in this place. You go home two. Follow that Emo Edition dude and kill yourself while you're at it. You got no place in the ring."

Pausing again. Got to catch his breath. Too many people he needed to check off his list. But he was almost finished.

"Last.... But not least.... Maniac. Another lame fuck to go along with this lame ass company and the lame ass talent that inhabit their lame ass shows. Gah... I don't even know what to say about you dude. I really don't. I don't think I've seen a lamer person on this roster. Wait. Scratch that. There's a lot of lame people on this damn roster. You pretty high up there though. Kissing ass to get where you want to be too. I don't even see how you can even call yourself any sort of talent here. You kiss ass. You suck on the mic. The fans are tired of your ass in the ring. Just go home. Quit. Please. You got the APW Nationwide Title by facing other lame fucks so don't try to swing that around here. You put it on the line against me? Better believe I'm going to snatch it and take it home with me."

Slapping his waist. Indicating he'd take the title away from Maniac. Jay then turned to face the stage now.

"In a nutshell... APW... YOU'VE BEEN CRACK'd. Oh... yeah... And if any of you bitches got the balls to face me tonight... Come on down. I'll take anyone of you on. It's an open challenge. Come on down...."

He lowered the microphone. Awaiting a challenger. Roasted the whole company. He better get someone good. Not another punk ass bitch like the last few he met in singles competition.

[plzgodno]

..::..
The drums kick in to signify the arrival of APW's General Manager, Kade Kronin, aka DarkMan X. As the walls of flames rise from the stage encasing the entrance, the 6'8 275lbs monster of a man walks through and down to the ring. Stepping up the stairs, walking along the apron and stepping OVER the top rope with a bit of ease. He then strolls over to the far side of the ring where he is handed a microphone from a ring crew member
..::..

So, we've all been Crack'd have we? Original. VERY original. I admire the fact you come out through that inflatable bouncy castle marked with the letters M. V. P. and bounce to your music with a cockiness and ease about it. You walk around like you own this place, and frankly, you do. I say that because, of all the members on this roster, your the one who puts in the time to get on camera, be it live, or taped segments in the back, and you get matches.

..::..
He paces around the ring putting thought into his next flurry of words
..::..

I admit, APW is lacking some strong talent currently. Not much we can do about it though, because let's face it, our roster of names doesn't exactly scream out "We're the elite, come fight us and prove us wrong". You said it all yourself, each member has a flaw that is and can be easily exploited. Something a certain someone else does with the same ease you just did. Which is why I'm not knocking you for using a similar style and phrase. It's all, good I suppose.

Now, you have a choice to make here, Jay Crack. You can continue to fight these same people you ran down, knowing yourself you can beat them, because your confident and sure in your ability. OR, you can take a week off from competing against them.

..::..
The crowd boo's as they don't want to miss out on seeing him entertain them on the show
..::..

And compete against me!

..::..
The crowd ROARS in approval. They'd love nothing more then to see him back in the ring for the first time in almost 2 years since hanging up his boots.
..::..

It will do wonders for your career, and your life if you choose option B. Fighting me, is like having the chance to face your master in a martial art. A chance for the student to surpass the teacher. Now, I didn't teach you, no. But I spent 15 years building an empire in my own fed ran here in Toronto. Building a legacy to leave behind that the grandchildren of your children will still speak of, long after I'm dead and gone. You could, infact, wind up having a whole chapter, or more, written specifically about you in my ongoing, still being written Biography.

IF, you choose to face me instead of a normal roster member. IF you think you can do it, that is!

..::..
The crowd is eating it up and wait in anticipation for Jay Cracks answer to the open challenge laid out by his own GM
..::..

[Kenisha Williams]

Jay lifted his free hand up to his face. Stroking his chin for a moment. This wasn't what he expected. But he wasn't going to complain either. Actually, this was better than he expected. Think about the prestige he would hold for not only defeating the General Manager of the show, but to defeat an actual legend in this business. Nodding his head. Smirk crossing his lips. He lowered his free hand and lifted the microphone up.

"Interesting. Very interesting indeed. Option B.... The new kid on the block who's quickly taking the company over by storm...."

Lifting his free hand up in the air to the right of him.

"Going one on one... with an actual legend in this business... Someone who has owned the industry. Someone who has run through many and many people just like me for years...."

Moving his hand to the left in the air. He paused for a moment. Nodding his head. Lowering his hand. He turned to look at DMX.

"An opportunity of a lifetime... How could I not accept? There doesn't seem to be too many people who can compete with me in this company. There doesn't seem to be too many people in this company who are even on the same level as me. How could I not accept facing someone of such a high caliber? You got yourself a deal Kade. Right here... Tonight... In this very ring... Jay Crack.... A legend in the making... versus.... Kade Kronin... Dark Man X... The living legend.... Book it!"

[Kenisha Williams]

.....Waiting a little bit here.... Hoping the General Manager had some more to say.... But alas.... He was left... Cutter'd? Silence. Not a peep coming from the legend DMX. Was he a space cadet too like Corona? Letting his mind wander as he day dreams? Spacing and zoning out? Come on... He expected better from a legend. With as many years that this man had put in the business? You'd think he would have been better than sitting there in his silence. Jay lifted his free hand up infront of DMX's face. Snapping a few times. Then beginning to wave his hand in his face. Lifting the mic up. He begins to say...

"Hello.... Is anyone home? Yeah... Hi... I'm Earth. I don't believe we've met...."

Come on. Let's get a reaction. Something. Don't sit there and be quiet. The fans might get up and leave.

[plzgodno]

..::..
He laughs as he raises the mic back up to his mouth
..::..

Actually, I was waiting for the crowd to react. It was dead, no cheers, no boos, no groans. Nothing! That tells you something, does it not? That APW is plainly put, SUCKING and lacking a factor that will put us on the map and allow us to compete for ratings and fan dedication and following. Lucky for APW, they have the right man as GM, so I can make matches like this, with a snap of my fingers.

And let it be known, from here on out. If someone isn't pulling their weight, I'm going to be putting my boots on and competing against them in the ring. That way, APW has atleast one hot commodity in their events at all times. Don't worry though, I don't need any APW titles. I don't need, nor want them. I've held as many as I need, for as long as I need, elsewhere. I've litteraly done it all, which is why I'm here as the GM instead of an active wrestler. I know when to call it a career and retire. My "semi" retirement has been justified, as I see all these so called "new stars" are lacking in integrity, innovation and the intensity needed to make them superstars and i the end, legends in this business. So you, Crack, are just the first of many.

Let's hope you can carry your weight succeed in winning "ME" over and then worry about these fans after.

..::..
With that "A Victim, A Target" by Misery Signals plays again as the GM takes his leave and heads backstage to prepare.
..::..