New York City-the past
In a large high-rise with the Titian Industries logo
"In other news today, millionaire Vince McMahon once again lost out in the race for mayor " the vapid brunette on the TV screen said in a perky tone as large shoe hurtled through the air and smashed the screen. The sudden loss of the screen plunged the room in to blackness as an irate male voice screamed obscenities. The cursing intensified as the door opened, allowing light from the hallway to flood room and illumining the female form in the doorway.
"Still the paragon of patience, aren't we?" came the raspy reply as the bottled blond sipped on a freshly made gin & tonic.
The man, if he heard the comment or not, didn't respond as he picked up a nearby phone and began to scream into the receiver. "I want her fired! I want the entire crew fired! I don't give a damn about the union, I will not be made a fool on my own network, understand me Brisco?" and as if to further punctuate his mood, the man slammed the phone down hard enough to crack the plastic cradle.
"Well Vince, I take it the voters didn't fall head over heels in love with you?" the woman spoke again as she flipped on the light.
The man glowered as he turned around. "I am Vincent Kennedy McMahon-and I will not be denied!" the man bellowed as he picked up an upholstered chair and hurtled it at the nearby window. The chair harmlessly bounced back, doing little to soothe his temper. "Vince, honey, you've run for mayor three times and lost three times. Give it up; Ric Flair is what the people want. Not you" she said, adding extra empathies on the last part.
Vince's scowl suddenly changed into a grin as he picked the phone back up. "No Linda, the people only want what's there in front of them. If I can't have the city directly, then I'll just go indirectly…"
Meanwhile, on a lonely stretch of highway on the West coast
The beat up car had seen better days as it speeded down the blacktop. The driver, a young man dressed in clothes that had seen slightly better days than the car, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he kept time to the old rock song blaring out on the radio.
"Yeah, it's the end of the seventies, it's the end of the century!" he wailed as he tapped his fingers on the cracked vinyl wheel.
As he was driving, he failed to notice that the previously white fog had suddenly become a bright green. This didn't bother the driver too much, except when the fog seemed to become so thick that he couldn't even see past his hood, much less the road. He noticed this only after the car went over the embankment.
"Oh dang it"
In the middle of the blasted wastes, if one's luck had run out, one would find a structure. The building looked vaguely like a ziggurat, provided the architect had been in the midst of a serious either binge while designing it. Past the walls and down into the depths of the inhuman building, there sat a man dressed in black, his face obscured by a velvet cloak. "I see," he said to seemingly to the darkness around him. "So the pieces are finally moving into place. I wonder, what will be my place in this game?" he said as a chessboard floated over his massive hand…
A stately mansion in New England
The hired help hurriedly stepped out of the way as a large blond man, dressed in a shirt that none of them could ever hope to afford and his hair slicked back into a ponytail, arrogantly ignored them as he entered the main study. Seconds later, the various butlers and maids (and even the chauffeurs and cooks) cowered as they heard him scream: "You can't do this to me!"
Another voice, one almost as loud, shouted back. "I can and I will. You have disgraced us with your antics; imagine, my only son…a super villain! And losing to a…a pig farmer of all things! You've cost us a pretty penny to keep this whole thing covered up. It's now time to cut our losses-get out, or by God I'll make your rotten lazy life a living hell you little bastard" the old man said, his tone quite evident that he no longer needed to shout.
The young man stepped back and sneered at his father. "Ok old man, if that's the way you want to play it-fine. But I'll make you rue the day you humiliated Hunter Hearst Helmsley!" he said as he stormed out of the mansion.
Several miles above the Earth, in a large orbiting satellite with the letters 'W.W.F.' on the side
Hulk Hogan, idol of millions, sighed as he stared down at the spinning blue orb. He was shaken out of his thoughts when he finally felt someone tapping his shoulder. Tensing up, he spun around with both fists upraised.
"Whoa, easy man!" shouted the now cowering form of Ed Leslie. Looking down in disgust at his hands, Hogan quietly turned back towards the view. "Shouldn't have snuck up on me brother," he said after an uncomfortable silence.
"Yeah, I kind of figured that out by now" Ed shot back as he stood and approached his friend. "What's gotten into you man?" Ed asked as he joined the yellow and red clad hero by the window.
Staring out into space and watching the various bit of old satellites and space stations floating by, Hogan gave a weak grin. "Just old age I guess. I mean, look at us brother, we've been fighting the good fight for what, fifteen years now?"
Ed whistled as a large meteor burned up in Earth's atmosphere. "About, what's that got to do with anything?"
Hogan turned his back on the view and gazed wistfully over the interior of the satellite. "Lot of junk here Ed. Look, Mr. McMahon hasn't gotten any new recruits in months, crime is out of control, heck, and most of our old foes have even retired. Even the Iron Sheik is out of business…" Hogan said as he stepped into the interior of the room and looked at the photos and memorabilia of various members and fights. "I'm thinking about getting off of this floating tin can and heading back. The people need a hero they can see, not some catchphrase spouting mascot in the sky." Hogan angrily yelled as he smashed a large cabinet filled with miscellaneous items all bearing the 'Hulkamanic' logo.
"I'm going home Ed, I'm going home"
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
The room was shrouded in darkness. Not that would have mattered any, since the even if the light had been on, any visitors to the place would have only seen nothing but four stark walls and a phone staring back at them.
The ringing broke the silence once before a muscular hand answered it. "Hello" the deep voice answered as a heated discussion soon followed. "Alright, but this is my last job for you McMahon" the man said as he flicked on an overhead bulb, bathing the small room with 50 watt goodness. "And I expect to be paid upfront this time" the man said with finality as he slammed the phone down. "Bret, why do you keep getting yourself into this damn things?" the man asked aloud as he pulled a worn leather jacket on…
Whenever a prisoner is released, there is usually a great deal of attention. Especially when said inmate was once a super villain.
However, as the outside gate slid open, there seemed to be a nervous tension running through everyone as the man exited the facility. Running a thick hand through his thinning blond hair, Steve Austin smiled as he breathed the fresh air.
One of the younger guards gulped as he stared at the muscles of the man barely contained by the cheap suit. "Now, now I hope this is the last time we see you Mr. Austin," he said as he nervously fingered his rifle.
Austin turned and gave the young officer a cold stare. "Son, I can guarantee you ain't getting your damn hands on me again." He said as he boarded the awaiting bus without even bothering to look back.
In a converted bingo hall, Philadelphia
In the center of the room sat a large glass container. Inside the large fluid filled chamber, something stirred.
This action was not unnoticed by the short pudgy man in a wrinkled suit as he checked on the various monitors surrounding the thing.
"So I'm too extreme, am I?" the man said as he waved his greasy Yankee's ball cap in the air to cool off his bald spot. "I'll so those fools just how extreme Paul Heyman can be!"
Los Angles International airport
The man stepping off of the plane looked around at the hustle and bustle of the city as he made his way to the baggage claim. A young child's voice caught his attention as he reached for his suitcase. "Hey mister, aren't you Kurt Angle?"
Turning, he looked down at the mop-topped youth with a grin. "Yes I am kid, care for an autograph?"
The kid blanched at that, shacking his head as he stepped back. "Na, my dad sees you wrestlers are all bunch of phonies!" the kid shot as he turned away.
Kurt bit back the anger that was threatening to unleash itself on any passers by as the child walked away. "Cool it Kurt, the Olympics were a while ago. Not your fault the coach had to be selling the juice to everyone." He thought as he muttered 'it's true it's true' under his breath. Passing by a news rack, he spied a magazine shilling the arrival of the various new super heroes. "Hmph. I was a REAL hero, where's my magazine cover?" he thought. "That's the problem with kids today, all the so called 'good guys' are running about like fruitcakes dolled up like idiots, where's the blood, where's the hardship that being a hero is all about? All kids want nowadays is some spandex goof to show up and toss out some stupid one-liners. I'll show those punks what a real hero one of these days" he thought darkly.
Brushing those thoughts aside for later and looking at the crowded terminal, the former Gold Medallist shrugged his shoulders back and walked out into the City of Angels.
"Here. Where is here?" thought the being as it made it's way towards the bright lights. It knew someone there, maybe.
Memories came flooding back as it saw the bright lights of the city.
The creature struggled to stand as the memories kept coming.
"Kane" the creature whispered, as it stood upright. Bringing the scarred digits to its face, it recoiled when it felt a mask covering its features.
It fell to its knees as it remembered voices.
More and more the voices shouted, until the creature called Kane had to scream to drive the voices away.
Picking himself up, Kane decided that the bright city was where he wanted to go. The lights seemed to call to him, and the promise of peace was enough to motivate him towards the noise and the traffic…
Well, here's what hopefully will be the beginning of a new series. Based on an idea by Internet writer Jim Vanderhost, this series will be the adventures of the various heroes and villains of the WWE. Now, I will try to keep things as close as possible to current storylines, but I felt the first couple of issues should be a warm up. If there are any particular wrestlers you want to see, then please feel free to request them. At the moment, I have plans for just about everybody on the roster of both brands. Now, obviously there are other promotions out there and I might work a few references in there everyone and a while, but for the most part this is strictly WWE.
Maybe a Crisis on Earth 2 type thing or perhaps a crossover with M.U.S.C.L.E?
Anyway, just let me know. There might also be some fantasy booking along with some title histories.
For the record, here's a slight rundown on the two series
Set in New York City, this is going to have a very dark feel to it.
Set in Los Angles, this going to have a slightly more up beat feel to it (like Marvel or DC back in the 60's)
PPV books (mega events)
Well, that's all the time we have this week kids. See you soon