Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2022 19:12:05 GMT -5
The camera fades in from black to the backstage area of Only The Strong Survive in Philadelphia, PA. The show has ended, the lights have come back up and the crowd is slowly backstage beginning to file out. Backstage, the hustle and bustle of the UWL experience is in full effect. Wrestlers are seen saying their final goodbyes for the evening, while the competitors of the main event are seen being escorted to different areas of the backstage area. Coming back through the curtain, a bloody Caleb Hart limps towards the medical staff who stand there, hands on hips, waiting for him to come through. Holding a large white gauze pad to his crimson mask, a medic attempts to keep up as he walks towards the back, ignoring the calls for him to slow down.
He doesn’t want to slow down. He CAN’T slow down. That’s where it starts, he would tell himself. Slow down now and you never pick up speed again.
Caleb continues to pace towards the locker room area until the head medic for the evening firmly grasps Caleb’s arm – hard enough for Caleb to freeze momentarily. If looks could kill, the medic would still be smoldering. Finally, Caleb finds a crate backstage and sits down. One medic pulls the gauze away to look at the cut as the head medic pulls out a flashlight.
Medic 1: Look straight ahead and don’t move. I’m about 90% sure you have a slight concussion.
Caleb takes a deep breath, the rational side of him finally coming to a head. He looks up and locks eyes with the medic.
Caleb Hart: I don’t know if you know who I am, Doc. But last time I checked, it’d take more than a concussion to stop me.
Caleb smirks as the medic continues his exam.
Medic 1: I’m very familiar with you, Mr. Hart. That’s why I’m doing my job. And at your age, a concussion could be worse for you than any bloodletting. So do me a favor, shut up and let us do our jobs. Your match was with Mr. Burnside and Mr. Madison, not with me or your brain.
Caleb takes a deep breath and visibly calms down. The room seems to finally slow down and time stands still for Hart as he just waits, complying with the doctor’s orders. With each breath comes the clarity of the night that he had, or what he almost had.
From around the corner, one of the UWL aides is seen running towards Caleb, cell phone in hand. He holds it up to catch Caleb’s eye. Caleb winks and slightly shakes his head.
Caleb Hart: I’m good, just a little messy right now. Tell them I’m still good to drive home tonight and will see them in the morning…
Caleb looks at the medic who is now examining the cut right over Caleb’s eye. The medic locks eyes with him and nods. Caleb looks back up to the aide.
Caleb Hart: Yeah, all of that is good. Thanks, kid.
The medic steps away from Hart and just shrugs.
Medic 1: Well, the good news is that you don’t have a concussion. Bad news is that you’ll need stitches. Clean cut though. Mr. Stone really did a number on you there.
Caleb rolls his eyes and sighs.
Caleb Hart: Well, looks aside, no one has ever said that Rock Stone was not a smart man. Tonight, we learned he’s calculating too. He’ll get what’s coming to him.
Medic 1: Well, what’s coming to you is going to be between 10-15 stitches. You need anything before we get going?
Caleb shakes his head as the medic is handed a kit and begins his job.
The camera fades to black and fades back in to Caleb, stitches fresh in his head, holding the UWL Heritage Championship over his shoulder. He looks down at the ground, holding the title over his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he waits a beat before speaking.
Caleb Hart: Normally in these times, our staff would be here interviewing us and asking about future plans, and how we plan on responding to the outcomes of the evening. But I don’t need to be asked how I feel when it’s pretty obvious by how I’m looking right now…we all know what happened and how I’m feeling.
Caleb’s left eyes twitches slightly, a habit picked up from irritation.
Caleb Hart: Tonight was supposed to be the night that I came back from my exile and reclaimed what I never actually lost. Tonight was supposed to be the uncrowned king coming back to receive his waiting kingdom. Instead…
Caleb smirks.
Caleb Hart: Instead, I get sucker punched and then get the hell beat out of me. Make no mistake, Chris Madison and Jackson Burnside did everything they said they would do. They came in, they kicked ass, and while it was only Jackson who stood tall tonight, no one can say they came out as a loser…no one, that is, except me. I’d be lying if I said to you all right now that I expected to be standing here without the UWL World Championship.
He looks down at the Heritage Championship and sighs.
Caleb Hart: And even for the briefest of seconds tonight, I thought that tonight was going to be it. But Jackson proved he was the World Champion for a reason tonight. He didn’t win because I was attacked first, he won because tonight he was the better man. But I promise you all this…tonight was not the end of Caleb Hart. I’ve got a Heritage Championship to defend, I’ve got a Coronation Cup to win…AGAIN…and I’ve got my eyes set back on top of the mountain because make no mistake about it – I’m coming back Jackson. I’m coming back to claim what I now can no longer say is rightfully mine. Oh no, my friend, now, I have something that I haven’t had since I’ve been back in UWL…since I’ve been back and have been DOMINATING this company. Now?
Caleb grins.
Caleb Hart: Now, I have a challenge. Now, I have a goal. Now I have a new mountain to climb, and when it’s all said and done, I’m going to do the same thing to that challenge that I’ve done to each and everyone one of them put before me. As Hendrix said, it’s time for me to chop them down with the edge of my hand. Jackson, enjoy your time on top of the mountain for as long as you can, my friend. Because when I’m back to challenge you for it again…there will only be one man left on top…and he’s the man whose face is already carved into the mountain itself. It will be Mr. UWL himself. It will be Caleb Hart. Enjoy your time while it lasts, Jackson…because it won’t be lasting long.
Caleb steps outside of the camera’s view and walks towards the locker room. As he gets there, he’s met by a few of the UWL officials, dressed in their usual suits. A man steps forward, one Caleb did not recognize. Hart slows as he walks up to the men, nodding at the few he knew.
Caleb Hart: Gentlemen, how can the UWL Heritage Champion help you this evening?
The man smiles warmly he holds open the door to the locker room.
UWL Official: Mr. Hart, you are no longer the UWL Heritage Champion.
Caleb freezes, the man’s grin plastered on his face. Holding up his hand in front of him, the man continues walking forward.
UWL Official: No, no. Nothing bad. You are still the Heritage Champion…however, just not for the UWL…
The camera fades to black.
He doesn’t want to slow down. He CAN’T slow down. That’s where it starts, he would tell himself. Slow down now and you never pick up speed again.
Caleb continues to pace towards the locker room area until the head medic for the evening firmly grasps Caleb’s arm – hard enough for Caleb to freeze momentarily. If looks could kill, the medic would still be smoldering. Finally, Caleb finds a crate backstage and sits down. One medic pulls the gauze away to look at the cut as the head medic pulls out a flashlight.
Medic 1: Look straight ahead and don’t move. I’m about 90% sure you have a slight concussion.
Caleb takes a deep breath, the rational side of him finally coming to a head. He looks up and locks eyes with the medic.
Caleb Hart: I don’t know if you know who I am, Doc. But last time I checked, it’d take more than a concussion to stop me.
Caleb smirks as the medic continues his exam.
Medic 1: I’m very familiar with you, Mr. Hart. That’s why I’m doing my job. And at your age, a concussion could be worse for you than any bloodletting. So do me a favor, shut up and let us do our jobs. Your match was with Mr. Burnside and Mr. Madison, not with me or your brain.
Caleb takes a deep breath and visibly calms down. The room seems to finally slow down and time stands still for Hart as he just waits, complying with the doctor’s orders. With each breath comes the clarity of the night that he had, or what he almost had.
From around the corner, one of the UWL aides is seen running towards Caleb, cell phone in hand. He holds it up to catch Caleb’s eye. Caleb winks and slightly shakes his head.
Caleb Hart: I’m good, just a little messy right now. Tell them I’m still good to drive home tonight and will see them in the morning…
Caleb looks at the medic who is now examining the cut right over Caleb’s eye. The medic locks eyes with him and nods. Caleb looks back up to the aide.
Caleb Hart: Yeah, all of that is good. Thanks, kid.
The medic steps away from Hart and just shrugs.
Medic 1: Well, the good news is that you don’t have a concussion. Bad news is that you’ll need stitches. Clean cut though. Mr. Stone really did a number on you there.
Caleb rolls his eyes and sighs.
Caleb Hart: Well, looks aside, no one has ever said that Rock Stone was not a smart man. Tonight, we learned he’s calculating too. He’ll get what’s coming to him.
Medic 1: Well, what’s coming to you is going to be between 10-15 stitches. You need anything before we get going?
Caleb shakes his head as the medic is handed a kit and begins his job.
The camera fades to black and fades back in to Caleb, stitches fresh in his head, holding the UWL Heritage Championship over his shoulder. He looks down at the ground, holding the title over his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he waits a beat before speaking.
Caleb Hart: Normally in these times, our staff would be here interviewing us and asking about future plans, and how we plan on responding to the outcomes of the evening. But I don’t need to be asked how I feel when it’s pretty obvious by how I’m looking right now…we all know what happened and how I’m feeling.
Caleb’s left eyes twitches slightly, a habit picked up from irritation.
Caleb Hart: Tonight was supposed to be the night that I came back from my exile and reclaimed what I never actually lost. Tonight was supposed to be the uncrowned king coming back to receive his waiting kingdom. Instead…
Caleb smirks.
Caleb Hart: Instead, I get sucker punched and then get the hell beat out of me. Make no mistake, Chris Madison and Jackson Burnside did everything they said they would do. They came in, they kicked ass, and while it was only Jackson who stood tall tonight, no one can say they came out as a loser…no one, that is, except me. I’d be lying if I said to you all right now that I expected to be standing here without the UWL World Championship.
He looks down at the Heritage Championship and sighs.
Caleb Hart: And even for the briefest of seconds tonight, I thought that tonight was going to be it. But Jackson proved he was the World Champion for a reason tonight. He didn’t win because I was attacked first, he won because tonight he was the better man. But I promise you all this…tonight was not the end of Caleb Hart. I’ve got a Heritage Championship to defend, I’ve got a Coronation Cup to win…AGAIN…and I’ve got my eyes set back on top of the mountain because make no mistake about it – I’m coming back Jackson. I’m coming back to claim what I now can no longer say is rightfully mine. Oh no, my friend, now, I have something that I haven’t had since I’ve been back in UWL…since I’ve been back and have been DOMINATING this company. Now?
Caleb grins.
Caleb Hart: Now, I have a challenge. Now, I have a goal. Now I have a new mountain to climb, and when it’s all said and done, I’m going to do the same thing to that challenge that I’ve done to each and everyone one of them put before me. As Hendrix said, it’s time for me to chop them down with the edge of my hand. Jackson, enjoy your time on top of the mountain for as long as you can, my friend. Because when I’m back to challenge you for it again…there will only be one man left on top…and he’s the man whose face is already carved into the mountain itself. It will be Mr. UWL himself. It will be Caleb Hart. Enjoy your time while it lasts, Jackson…because it won’t be lasting long.
Caleb steps outside of the camera’s view and walks towards the locker room. As he gets there, he’s met by a few of the UWL officials, dressed in their usual suits. A man steps forward, one Caleb did not recognize. Hart slows as he walks up to the men, nodding at the few he knew.
Caleb Hart: Gentlemen, how can the UWL Heritage Champion help you this evening?
The man smiles warmly he holds open the door to the locker room.
UWL Official: Mr. Hart, you are no longer the UWL Heritage Champion.
Caleb freezes, the man’s grin plastered on his face. Holding up his hand in front of him, the man continues walking forward.
UWL Official: No, no. Nothing bad. You are still the Heritage Champion…however, just not for the UWL…
The camera fades to black.