Wrath Segment : Forgotten.

[Trash]

REW cameras shoot backstage where a man wrapped in rags sits watching Wrath on the monitor. Legs crossed, arms on knees and head in arms he rocks randomly as events unfold on the screen. An unholy alliance between the lawyer and the hardcore legend. Gothic badasses...the reign of Aaron Holiday.

How easy it is to draw attention to yourself. They say actions speak louder than words, but as of late, words have been yelling while actions whisper.

REW screentime, a company that puts on 2 hours of television each week in addition to a monthly pay per view is being spent on futile talk and pandering to the crowd. Everything else, everything else lays forgotten.

Where was Tommy Sirius while we labored? Where was Tommy Sirius all these days...weeks...months, if not years. Why should anyone care what he has to say?

Oh, so he wants to turn this place around and he has the lawyer on his side. Unfortunately, a lawyer can only get you so far in a place that has no law.

Why should he be the one to take the helm? Why should Sirius and White stand atop the, ahem, trash heap that is REW? Why not Trash, a man who labored, a man who gives words with meaning, a man who aims to show the legions of fans who and what they really are. A man who deserves it...

A man who is too hurt to take what he deserves.

If it were not for that attack by Dolla, Trash would be in that ring. Trash would have faced Aaron Holiday and Trash would have won or killed himself trying. Either way, Trash was to be either the shepherd or the martyr.

Yet after an attack by a rich street thug, Trash has been discarded.

: Excuse me there...

Trash looks up, two eyes stare at him. The smell of ammonia overtakes his senses as he sees REW's janitor pushing by him with a mop.

The show's over.

The fans are gone, Aaron, John, Tommy, Draven have all gone home.

Trash looks at the time, realizing that he had been sitting there and staring at an empty monitor all this time, an empty monitor that in his mind had been replaying the same scene over and over again.

The Sanity Assassin turns to the camera, knowing that the footage might be aired next Wrath if the staff are not too distracted with the 'new' stars of the REW.

Trash : "REW. I congratulate you. You have a messiah. You have someone that will save you, someone that will put you on the right track. Someone...someone that will take what they can from you and leave you hollow, empty, discarded.

You cheer for this change, you cheer just because it's new, not because it will lead to anything good. And the rest of you REW, the Sexperts, the Freakulas, The Dreamkillers...where are you when this usurpation takes place? Where are your razor gloves, your machetes, your...whatever is under that towel. Why do you sit quietly and watch what YOU worked for be pulled from under you?

I might not be able to wrestle, but I call upon you to think about what has transpired here today. I call upon you to RECLAIM what you had worked for. I call upon you...I call upon you because this program should not be dedicated to Tommy and Johnny preaching THEIR worldview. This program should be dedicated...dedicated to...the athletes...and the people.

Trash's eyes dim as he finishes the last sentence, but no doubt a spark was seen before he talked about the people. The janitor passes by again, the noxious fumes of ammonia filling the room again and the Sanity Assassin struggles back on his feet and limping awkwardly exits the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud *BANG*.

TBC by ? ? ?




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