Half As Long, Twice As Bright: Part I

Half As Long Twice As Bright

This is it. It's all come down to this. In two weeks at the RIMAC Center, we will see the first Exodus World Champion crowned. No one knows yet who it will be, but we can be certain about one thing; five superstars will be going tooth and nail, giving every ounce of sweat, blood and tears that they possibly can in order to hold that championship at the end of the night... knowing that they just competed against some of the toughest, most talented superstars in the world... knowing that after everything they've been through and everything they've overcome that they can confidently say that they're the best in the world.

And for these five remarkable superstars, victory was the only option. In two weeks, fans from across the world will be glued to their computer screens, watching to see who will emerge as the first man to carry the Exodus Banner. Only one of them could become the face of the company, and that had to be Johnny Cannon. Anything but the sweetness of success would be insufficient. Failure was not an option. The chance to silence the whispers of the skeptics and the doubters was hinging on this opportunity. Proving that he was the most skilled fighter in the world was hinging on this opportunity. Proving to his father, that he was capable of ascending to great heights and becoming a champion, something his old man NEVER did, was hinging on this opportunity.

And when opportunity knocks, you'd be a fool not to listen.

As the camera begins rolling we are greeted to an empty RIMAC arena. However the desolate venue houses one inhabitant - Johnny Cannon, who is located in the stands. The self-esteemed superstar is clad in a golden colored silk shirt and black pants, with an expensive pair of gators and a gold Rolex to compliment the ensemble. Cannon is seen rubbing his palms together, his eyes trained on the vacant ring just a few feet in front of him. As he reminisces about the battles and wars he's already waged inside of it, he shifts his thoughts; he begins to ponder about the one's he's about to have in just two week's time. The contemplation brings a smile across the Englishman's face as he grabs his Armani shades off the nearby seat and hooks them on his shirt.

"Two weeks, three matches, one championship. That's all I've been thinking about since Stewart Gadlin announced Abby Park and I would be fighting again in a playoff match following our draw." Cannon breaks the silence with a nod and the lowering of his head. "Two weeks, three matches, one winner. If my mind was a refrigerator I've got those words plastered to it like a child's drawing or report card. To win the Exodus World Championship, to make good on all my claims and give truth to my statement that 'I'm The Best Fighter In The World' I've got to go through THREE out of four people, none of whom are pushovers. Abby Park has unlimited, untapped potential just oozing inside of her. Omar Wise went undefeated in his block, and is by FAR the most massive, strongest wrestler in this company. Fiona Rourke, despite the fact that we've never seen eye to eye, and that she 'defeated' me under controversial circumstances, is THE International Champion, and may be the most talented female wrestler in the world. And Kliff Ulysses, well they don't call him 'cunning' for no good reason. The man is a surgeon in the ring. He's cold and calculated. He's the leader of a group of men that personify the monsters our dads checked under our beds for. He's nasty, diabolical and crazy talented."

He nods once again, his eyes still staring down at the ring, still focused on the proverbial coliseum where he and the other four gladiators would have to rip each other apart to be heralded as the champion of the spectators. "Over the next two weeks they'll be a lot of hours spent at the gym. They'll be a lot of iron pumped, a lot of calories burned. The five of us will be training rigorously as we try to prepare for this." Cannon looks around the venue, his eyes almost unblinking as a stern expression emerges on his face. "I’m talking about a thousand people packing THIS arena, and plenty more watching online. We'll be preparing for the greatest chess-match of our careers, where every move is important, where every mistake could be our undoing. We've all worked hard to get here, and have earned this opportunity, and we'll have to go through hell and back to make sure that none of it was for granted, that none of it was in vain. Over the next few weeks, the airwaves will be flooding with promos by my counterparts. They'll be trying to convince you, the people, why they deserve to become the first Exodus Champion. I'd rather talk about something else.”

"I'm here to talk about humbleness."

He finally gazes into the camera, his face bound and determined, and his mood pensive. "Shocking right? Johnny Cannon and humble were two things that never correlated before. We never reciprocated. However before you chaps cast me as delusional pay attention.”

Cannon squeezes his lower eyelids, and washes over his face with his hand. "When I first signed my contract, I thought for sure that I'd be handed everything. I thought the first time Rufus Frost and Jonathan Collins laid eyes on me, they'd see dollar signs. I thought they would see a transcendent star, a man that could take this company from San Diego, and raise its image to global heights. I thought they would see a man that they would hand the ball over to and say 'run with it.' I was wrong. They handed me nothing. Needless to say, I was aghast and felt disrespected. After all, I AM a renowned superstar. I felt I deserved to have every door opened to me, without any questions asked."

His lips curl into a semi frown. "I felt even more disrespected when the Winter Road Tournament was announced. I thought for sure I would be awarded the Exodus Championship just based on my name value alone. But I was wrong. I felt insulted. These ill-feelings were accentuated when Fiona Rourke retained the International Championship against me. I wanted Dan Arnouli's head on a stick. I wanted him fired. I felt like I was robbed. Steward Gadlin felt the same way. We pressured Rufus to give me what I wanted, but I was once again denied. That angered me tremendously."

Cannon's face suddenly changes, as he flashes a lively smile, a sharp contrast from the solemn disposition he'd been displaying.

"I'm here to tell everyone that I've come to realize something. I've had an epiphany if you will." He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands together and placing them in his lap. "When you aim to be the best, nothing is ever handed to you. In this business, you've got to climb your way from the bottom, work your way up the ladder and earn your namesake. And even if the Exodus Championship was handed to me, I wouldn't have earned it. And now, I realize that I wouldn't have wanted it that way. I’m out for respect. Respect isn't handed to you, it must be earned. Even if I got everything handed to me, I wouldn't have earned anyone's respect. In two weeks, I'll have an opportunity to finally do that." Cannon raises an eyebrow in thought, taking a moment to briefly reflect on his admission. "In two weeks, my journey to the top of Exodus Wrestling will come to a close. I anticipate, and expect victory. Failure and doubt are words not in my vocabulary, ideas that have never crossed my consciousness. I've only contemplated victory... and victory comes at the expense of Abby Park."

Cannon rubs the rim of his chin as he replays the classic he and Abby wrestled in his head. .

"Abby love, I've listened to you say a lot of things about me, and I've often called you delusional and gave you as many verbal nicks and scars as you've given me. I've said some things that that the Church of England wouldn't give me admittance if they heard me say them. But out of everything I've said about you, nothing was truer than when I said I respected you. You've got a ton of talent. You've got daft qualities about you. I think expensive is the word you blokes use here. What I mean by that doll, is that people would give their limbs and sell their souls just to possess the abilities and impeccable traits that you've been blessed with. The things you can do in a ring, they're amazing. Last week, despite everything I threw at you, you persevered. You put on a gob-smacking performance. You refused to quit, refused to die, refused to be denied your opportunity to compete for the Exodus World Championship. For that, you won my admiration. For that, I hold you with high regard. But for that, I will come harder. For that you've forced me to raise my game. I injured your leg in our first encounter, now I'll have to break it, because that's what it will take to put you down. You won't quit unless you're physically unable to continue. I must debilitate and impair you, to force you into submission. You thought you took me to my limit Abby, but you're wrong. I've got more layers to my game and more moves in my repertoire. You've made me realize how far I must go, and how hard I must push to get to the top. I'm going to show my appreciation for that, by showing you the end of the line."

Cannon's eyes glare at the camera as the thoughts of his next topic bring about a cloud of negative energy that hovers over him. "And as I show you the door, another one will open for me in the form of Omar Wise.” The look of disgust on his face intensifies. "There's so much to say about Mr. Wise and his associate. I could talk about how Donovan Torment is a hayseed, loud-mouthed, wanker, who runs his chops and talks a bunch of trash to compensate for the fact that every time he looks into a mirror, it breaks. I could talk about the fact that Omar's brain is about the size of one of the diamonds in this custom Rolex that's wrapped around my wrist." A smile once again manifests on his face, finding the verbal jabs he just threw quite comical. "But all jokes aside, the only thing that matters is that you went undefeated in the Winter Road Tournament thus far. The only thing that matters is that you ran through former champions and highly esteemed competitors as if they were nancy boys. I applaud you for that. I respect your game. But you're not getting one of those men when we meet in that ring Omar. You're getting a guy that wears custom made suits, and drives a Ferrari, a Corvette, a Mercedes, or whatever he feels like driving. You're getting a guy that gets ambushed at airports by people dying to get an autograph. And for you gals that have been wondering, you're getting a man that's a stallion in the sack and knows how to show you a good time." Another smile, this time brought on by the shameless self-promotion.

"But more importantly, I know none of that makes me a champion. I know none of that has earned me any respect. I know none of that has lead to my ascension up the ranks and this opportunity to be the first Exodus Champion. They're just what’s on the surface. What lies beneath the expensive suits and accessories is what you need to worry about, because they’re things you don't have. A sense of self-pride; that's something I know you lack because if you didn't you wouldn't be walking around with that degenerate monkey you call a manager. Self confidence; if you had that you wouldn't go walking around calling yourself the 'Arsehole Breacher', or whatever the hell it is that you call yourself in the morning when you’re looking in the mirror getting dressed in your K-Mart clothes. I've got heart; I know you don't have that. I know that when the going gets tough, and adversity starts to hit that all those muscles you've got wont be able to help you withstand the pressure. That's because the most powerful muscle in the human anatomy, is you're weakest. Overcoming adversity takes mental fortitude, and I'm sorry to say this Omar, but you don't have any of that. That's why you've got Donovan writing your lines and telling you what to say, shoving his hand up your arse and working your mouth like a puppet. And don't even think of calling me a hypocrite. Quinn Goodrich, he's not a hired employee of mine. He's a mentor. He's family. He's a man that has seen me grow up to become the handsome, home-wreckin', champagne sippin', jet flyin', Armani clad superstar who graduated from Uni with a 3.8 GPA that I didn't just get for banging all the teachers. No. He's not getting paid to talk me up and sell me to the world. I sell pretty nicely with these million dollar looks." Cannon points to his face, smiling charmingly at the camera.

"No. Unlike Donovan Torment, Quinn isn't here to throw smoke screens and talk out of his arse. He's here to watch me ascend to greatness. He's here to see me exploit all the things that I have deep inside, and use them to knock you off your high hose. And yes, you may tout your undefeated record. You have that over me. I'm here to tell you that in a fortnight, a mere two weeks, you won't have that either chap. That's because I'm going to put the first blemish on your record. And then I'm going to move onto the Winter Road Finals and win the Exodus World Championship, proving without a shadow of a doubt that while you may be the biggest, most physically imposing wrestler in this sport... that while you may be an assault vehicle, Johnny Cannon is a tank buster. NO! I'm the equivalent of a nuclear bomb and like Nagasaki and Hiroshima your career is going to make like a mushroom cloud and go up in smoke when I'm done with you!"

Cannon suddenly sighs.. "And then you've got Kliff Ulysses who I could potentially meet in the Finals." He claps his hands, giving a sardonic round of applause. "You're the leader of the misfit rouges known as Legion, a group of rag-tag knobs comprised of virgins and men who couldn't get laid if they were the last guys on earth. And after you're all done sleeping in the same bed and watching your anime shows on your basic cable, you sneak and jump people after their matches and pump your chests as if you’re tough guys. Kliff, you’re talented and intelligent, but you're not a tough guy. You're a bloody punk. You're mad at the world because God gave you small balls and your mum named you after a hillbilly. Come to think of it, I guess I'd be pissed as well. But I'm not. I've been pretty well endowed when it comes to the bullocks and any lady I've pleased in the backseat of my limousine can vouch for me." He winks at the camera.

"Listen closely Ulysses, while you and your pals are cutting yourselves, and putting on your eye-black, dyeing your hair, and listening to your punk-rock music like the quintessential emos that you are, I simply handle business. And how do I handle business?" He asks rhetorically. "I handle it face to face. I walk right up to whatever wanker that thinks he can walk a mile in these gators, and I ask him to prove it. That's what a man does Kliff. And while you may have your followers who are latching onto your back because they don't have any confidence in themselves, I'm doing everything that I say I will. I said I'd stick out like a sore thumb in a match with a drug addict and a stooge. Well I did it. I said I'd wrestle a classic with Fiona, and then Abby. And you better believe I did it son. I just do it Kliff. I did it in MMA, I did it on the big screen, and now I'm doing it in the squared circle. While you're busy trying to become a rockstar, I already am. But this isn't rock n' roll Kliff, this is professional wrestling. This is the sport where the men get separated from the boys. And when March of War finishes and the dust settles, everyone will know that you weren't ready to sit at the big boy table."

Cannon rises in his eight hundred dollar alligators, making his way into the aisle. "And then there’s Fiona Rourke, the woman I expect to see in the Finals." The Englishman walks to the ring. "You've got the modern day Rocky Balboa. You've got the people's champion. You've got the woman that's adored by the Exodus fans. And she’s earned all the praise as well. You pinned me Fiona. Despite HOW you did it, it happened. We were all there. Everyone saw it. This isn't Hollywood, there's no rewrites. The ending was final. But understand this Fiona, although this isn't Hollywood, I do have the ability to write a sequel. And that's what I’ll do when we meet in the Finals. We’ll have a re-match of the greatest match in Exodus Wrestling's brief history. The Strong Style Pixie taking on the man that hails from LONDON ENGLAND!" He shouts pridefully.

"And more importantly love, you'll have someone who’s more prepared, and more dangerous. I underestimated you to some degree Fiona. I didn't know you, hadn't seen you wrestle, and all I had to go on was myth and legend. I've seen the legend of Fiona Rourke first hand. It's a nice legend. But it's nothing compared to the legend of Johnny Cannon as I live on in infamy when I get immortalized in history as the first Exodus Champion." He says confidently, climbing into the ring.

"And you're probably asking yourself, how do I expect to beat you if I somehow manage to make it to the Finals... how do I expect to put up a worthy fight after I've already gone through two tough challenges in Abby Park and Omar Wise. I'll tell you how Fiona. It's because I've got the spirit of a champion. I’m not talking about that clichéd crap you see in movies. I'm talking about the sheer and utter desire to prove that I'm the best in the world. My entire life has been driven by my ambition to prove my worth and get respect. The reason I signed with Exodus Pro was so that I could give my father the champion he always wanted... to bring back a prestigious title to my beautiful country. And more importantly, I wanted to prove to myself that I could not only hang with the most talented superstars today, but that I could out-wrestle, and outclass them."

"Rourke, I sincerely hope you fully recover from your concussion, and that you're medically cleared to compete, because I want you to come to the RIMAC and do all the things that have gotten the fans to rally behind you. I want you to step through the curtains, so I can hear the crowd roar as if they're watching Messi artfully weave his way passed defenders on his way to score a goal. I want you to make it to the Finals because I want to be the man that when we reflect on this ten years from now, I’ll be able to say that I proved that you weren't good enough... not on that night, that night when Johnny Cannon overcame a spirited, insanely talented Abby Park... when he was beaten and bruised by Omar Wise yet kept getting up, smiling every single time he was knocked down... that night when he gave his old man the greatest gift he ever could... not when he gave him a champion." Cannon said passionately.

"I want you all to listen closely. A lot of you think I’m burning the candle at both ends. Maybe I am. I won’t disagree. I drink a lot of wine and then get behind the wheel with beautiful women who like to fool around while I’m in the driver’s seat. That’s how I choose to live my life. But understand this, while it may be true that the fire that burns twice as bright, burns half as long, I haven’t even began to burn yet. I haven’t wrestled my best match yet. I haven’t dug deep within and pulled out that extra ounce of energy to beat the odds, just when it looked as if all hope was lost. I haven’t gone that extra mile, and crawled that extra inch to get to the finish. But I know that I must do that at March of War, to be able to defeat three exceptional talents in one night. And I WILL do that. I will prove that on that night, nobodies candle burned like Johnny Cannon’s!” He shook his head.

“Everything I've said, none of this was some condescending mantra from a holier-than-though bloke who thinks he's better than everyone else because he dresses lavishly and lives life to the fullest. No. Everything that I've said came from here." He points at his chest. "That's because I wholeheartedly believe every word of it. I believe that I'm worthy of being champion. I believe that I'm worthy of being the man at the top of the Exodus mountain. That's because I have the stuff champions are born with. I've got the ability. I've got the desire for greatness. I've got the work-ethic necessary for one to achieve success. And I've got faith... faith in my fortune, and faith in my future."

Cannon slowly places his shades on his face, and grins. "And in two weeks, my future will look something like this... with me standing alone in this ring at the end of the night... only with a gold belt around my waist and the respect that I've coveted in the palm of my hands."

With that said, Johnny takes one last look around the arena, before giving a two finger salute to the camera which subsequently fades to black.



“Now that's a nice suit.” Goodrich says, admiring a sharply dressed Cannon.

“It'll probably be ruined by the end of the night unfortunately.” He sighed, looking into the mirror. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

“But you love Vegas!” Quinn smiled, patting him on the back.

“I should be preparing for the show.” Johnny replied.

“You've got a whole week to black out in the gym. You've got to relax. It will help you.” Quinn explains.

“Fine.” Cannon says with a shrug. “I'm not getting plastered tonight. As much as I like hangovers, I need to remain focused. I've gotta keep my eyes on the prize.”

“Losing a couple thousand dollars never hurt anybody.” Goodrich laughs.

“I suppose.” Johnny says, adjusting his tie. “But no funny business. I don't want a repeat of our last trip.” He warned.

“Hey... hey the marriage was annulled.” Quinn reminded him.

“I'm just lucky she agreed to a settlement.” Canon exclaims, brushing over his suit. “That wench could have bled me dry.”

“Listen, we're in a suite, they'll be fifteen or twenty beautiful ladies outside this bathroom in about ten minutes. Let’s just have fun.” Goodrich added.

“What's the point of partying if it's all for nothing? I don't really want to party until I've won the big gold belt.” Cannon explained.

“Just because you're not a champion yet, doesn't mean you shouldn't party like one.”[/color] Goodrich replies as they exit the room.

FADE.