Ace King vs Doug E Fresh

[Alex Smiley]

Reminder:

- Word limit for Group Stage matches is 1500.
- 1 RP per wrestler per match.
- Deadline: January 13, 2019, at 11:59PM Pacific.

[Doug E Fresh]

"Perhaps that was my penance."

"Come again?"

"Regardless of what his gang of highway cleanup thugs prevented me from doing after the match, everyone but me received the desired result."

(A clearly dejected Doug E. Fresh is leaning forward while sitting in on the ground outside of the Luxor against one of the stone Sphinx paws. His wife Amber paces back and forth in front of him attempting to motivate in some fashion.)

"They did not interfere by why would this TitanCorp even be allowed in the arena?"

"Because the Experts make a lot of money stroking Jack's shaft that they'll shaft anyone else to keep the cash flowing."

"So now what?"

"I only have two contracted matches left. Ace King in the group stages and a match with Rex Evans in another organization."

"When did you sign up for that? I thought this was it for you?"

"Honestly...it should be."

"Do you have to fulfill it?"

(The night sky is clear. Doug tilts his head up and sees the beam of light that comes out of the Luxor's peak. His eyes open as if we was walking toward it only to stop and stand up.)

"Who won Lester's match? I wasn't paying attention backstage."

"Ace King."

"This creates two incredibly interesting scenarios...one of which might actually provide me with some leverage."

"What do you mean?"

"In order for this to come to fruition, probability has to be in our favor. Provided I beat Ace King this week, I need Level-One to defeat Jack. That would create a four-way tie in points for the block. As is the Experts modus operandi, no explanation was given to the talent as to a tiebreaker. Everyone will have won, lost, and tied an individual. If they default to allowing the champ to advance in this scenario, EVERYONE in the group will be in an uproar...possibly also fans...which might affect their pocketbooks."

"That's attainable!"

"Certainly. But it does rely on two outcomes. There is another idea albeit something I'm not proud of considering."

(Amber looks at Doug concerned as he again leans on the sphinx sulkily.)

"I could just throw the match."

"What?"

"Step in the ring, lie down, eat a pin, or maybe just not even show up...forfeit. It would be the big middle finger the Experts deserve. I could fuck both the company and Jack simultaneously by giving Ace the three points. It forces Jack to win to create the draw between them and then there's still the question of a tiebreak. BUT IT FORCES JACK TO WIN. After what we just went threw he certainly doesn't want to work any harder and he saw the beating Lester gave me assuredly not wanting to endure the same. It would hurt the company's integrity and show they've handled me irresponsibly."

"And your integrity?"

"Honey, there's millions of people who already believe I have none."

"But you do! I don't want you doing this anymore. Yet I can't process what I'm hearing after knowing everything you are. Doug, you did everything in wrestling by means fair or foul. And you've walked away before too but you did so with your head held high."

"I tried raising my career from the grave. Maybe I'd be better just spitting on it."

(Doug pulls himself up and starts walking toward the casino entrance, all the while looking up toward the beam of light that shoots into the sky. Amber rushes to him and holds his arm as they walk back inside.)



----



The next morning...

*KNOCK KNOCK*

(The sun is barely in the sky but Doug E. Fresh is wide awake and using the professional suite afforded to him from his SCW ties to use an elliptical while catching up on news from the previous day on a wall-sized television. However in the midst of the workout, he's distracted by the loud knocking at the door. He turns his head in that direction to see an envelope has been slid under the door.)

"What do we have here?"

(Doug steps off the elliptical and walks over to grab the envelope. He opens it and there's a letter inside. Doug unfolds it and reads it aloud to himself.)

"Dear Doug E. Fresh,

It has come to our attention that there may be a question mark in regards to your commitment toward the remainder of this year's Extreme Tournament. With the utmost respect for every contribution you've made in past and present Experts events, we fully understand the frustration with your current standing.

We strive to treat all talents who choose to take part in our events equally and yet we know when to go above and beyond the call for special talents such as yourself. With that in mind, we invite you to discuss an offer we're prepared to make. This offer of course is contingent on your full participation and effort in your final group state contest of the Extreme Tournament.

Below is a number where you can reach one of our representatives. We look forward to this opportunity."

(Without reading the closing, Doug fold the letter up and sits it on an end table near the door.)

"Well ain't that a fucking surprise?"

(Looking perplexed, Doug grabs the letter and takes a seat on the sofa in front of the television. As he stares over it, an Extreme Tournament commercial airs in front of him which includes advertising for both his match with Ace King as well as Jack Benevolence vs. Level-One. Doug sits and ponders his next move.)



----



(The Mandalay Bay has a bar called Aureole, notable for its four story tall wine display which requires employees called 'wine angels' to ascend and descend the mighty structure to grab various wines for the customers. It is here that Doug E. Fresh has taken a seat stubbornly sipping on scotch despite being surrounded by wine.

His wife Amber comes into the bar to join him. She orders a cabernet sauvignon and the married couple watch as one of the angels flies to the top of the rack to grab the right bottle. She then repels down the side to the bar level handing the bartender the bottle.)

"Always impressive!"

"I can do that you know. This could be my next career."

"You're no angel Doug."

(The bartender pours Amber's glass of cabernet and slides it over to her.)

"What's your plan?"

"If I'm going to be 100% honest, I still don't know. Call me a game-time decision."

"You can't do that in wrestling."

"I'm Doug E. Fresh! I can literally do anything I want, especially in Las Vegas. Here's what it comes down to. I'm either all in or all out. If I show up to face the Ace, he won't get a half-assed effort. He'll get everything I've got."

"Have you been able to make anything of the offer?"

"Not a thing. For all my brainpower, I'm completely lost. They've certainly all but guaranteed I'll be here this weekend. Death by curiosity."

(Doug stops for a moment to take a sip of scotch.)

"What's my motivation? What kind of deal can they strike? Should I take it? It won't be a title shot that's obvious. But what? What could it be? Do I fight Ace King for the glory and respect? Or do I fight him for the potential reward. I almost feel no better than Jack trying to buy his way through title retention."

"I doubt you'll find the answer at the bottom of that glass."

"I know that. Once I'm done here its back to training. I'll have a clearer head when I'm preparing for a match whether I do it or not. And I definitely can't take Ace King lightly. Although I know relatively little about him, he did beat Level-One and he didn't lose to Jack Benevolence. IF I bring anything less than my best, it'd be the equivalent of laying down anyway. Guys like Ace King are the future becoming the present. I'm living and competing in their world because I'm that good."

(Doug finishes the scotch and leaves cash on the bar.)

"Are you doing media?"

"No."

"No?"

(He nods.)

"You're serious? You are literally the legend of the shoot. I can't remember a match where you haven't done some long-winded speech prior to promoting the match. This is unnatural!"

"I want them to feel real suspense. If I act normal, they'll assume everything will fall as they wish. I want them uneasy...on the edge...knowing I am the one with the power. I can ruin this tournament. I march to my own drum because I am old and done. If it takes becoming everything I am not to prove a point then I'm ready and willing to pull the trigger."

(They share a kiss. Amber stays to enjoy some of her wine as Doug presumably leaves to go train.)

[Geordie]

January 8, 2019
Luxor Hotel and Casino
Las Vegas
3:19 p.m.

"Is it strange?"

The words escape Ace King's mouth innocently; they're directed at his friend and sometimes student, SCW Hall of Famer and Experts alumnus AC Thunder, as they walk through the Luxor's hallowed halls.

About a decade ago, Thunder made his name here, overcoming the establishments to become SCW Global Champion twice, with one such victory coming over Fresh himself. Ace attended shows when time permitted, occasionally going backstage to visit his longtime friend.

Alas, many moons have passed since then, and many more memories have been made... or in Thunder's case, better left forgotten.

"I guess," Thunder answers with a shrug, almost as if he's processing where he is. The blankness is disheartening to Ace, who shuffles along as he observes his surroundings; to his left is a media backdrop, in front of which Jack Benevolence declared he would defeat Ace in the opening round, a promise Ace ensured he couldn't deliver on.

To his right? The theatre where many Sin City Wrestling memories were made. With a look to his friend, Ace opens the door, and Thunder looks around in awe; memories are clearly flooding back for him, evidenced by the gamut of facial expressions.

Ace puts a hand on his shoulder, and the two men make their way inside; Ace leads his friend to seats about two-thirds of the way up the arena, and they look out toward the space where the SCW ring once stood.

"The energy's still here, and you're part of the story," Ace says as he looks over to AC Thunder, who's still sorting out his emotions. It's understandable; for all his successes, there were plenty of lows, so he practically had to become a man in this building.

"You OK?" Ace asks innocently, putting a hand on Thunder's shoulder. His friend hesitates before silently nodding; it's clear time hasn't healed all his previous wounds. More awkward silence follows; though Ace realizes his friend is hurting, he's here for answers.

"What made Doug so good?" Ace asks, abruptly breaking the silence. "What made him tick?"

There's yet another awkward silence, leaving Ace unsure of where to go next. However, as he opens his mouth, Thunder clears his throat. 

"He's the Professor for a reason," he responds soullessly. "He always believed he could think circles around his opponents, and between him and Ryan Ruckus, they essentially ruled the roost. When he's in that mode? He's dangerous."

Ace nods as he gets comfortable, his eyes locked in on centre stage. Though he's competing in the VWF Colosseum, Ace knew he needed to understand the essence of Doug E. Fresh, and this was the only place to do it.

"He thinks he's the smartest guy in the room," Thunder acknowledges, sarcasm in his words as his expression never wavers.

Ace absorbs the information, understanding the sincerity behind Thunder's every syllable. After about a minute, Thunder slowly rises from his seat.

"I'll be back," Thunder says as he takes his leave. Ace nods; he's never seen him shaken up quite like this, but a Hall of Fame career can have that effect... Or so Ace has heard. Nevertheless, it leaves 'The Gambler' alone with his thoughts in the theatre.

"There's no place quite like Sin City... Or in my case, home," Ace begins for an audience of one. "It's got a way of making the impossible seem routine. You may have made your name here, Doug, but unless you were born and raised here... It's something you can never fully understand."

'The Gambler' maintains his almost trance-like stare toward centre stage, his expression frozen in place.

"See, when this group was announced, nobody believed I would get to the Elimination Chamber," he continues bluntly. "Why would they? I mean, three current and former True Experts joined by a guy who'd never before jumped into the Experts fire? It doesn't add up, does it, Doug?"

A small smirk crosses Ace's face, though it disappears almost as quickly as it appeared.

"And yet, here I sit, still with a chance of going to Hayward," he acknowledges, his words surprisingly placid. "Somehow, I've navigated my way through the minefield of True Experts to this point, and now you're the last obstacle... Or are you?"

The question comes sharply from Ace's mouth as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"I never figured I'd ask the question of you, but here we are," he says coldly as he scrolls through his phone purposefully. "Believe it or not, the possibility remains of a four-way tie in our group. The idea of a Professor not understanding simple math is baffling enough, but the second I saw this..."

Ace stops on a Tweet from 'The Professor' on Christmas Eve, and he shakes his head...



"...I knew you'd checked out," he continues, his tone dismissive overall. "I was shocked: Surely this couldn't be the Doug E. Fresh, borderline mentalist, I've seen and heard so much about over the years?"

There's an almost mocking tone to his dismissiveness, but a hard exhale brings Ace back to an even keel as he pockets his phone.

"You can say different now, but everybody knows that facing Jack Benevolence was your True Expert Championship match, just as it is for Lester in this round," he opines casually, getting a little more comfortable in his chair. "It was your chance to put yourself in line for one more shot, with everything else seeming rather, and this seems to fit, given where I am... Inferior?"

With this, 'The Gambler' slowly rises from his seat and makes his way down the aisle.

"Could it all be a ruse to lull the Experts rookie into a false sense of security? Sure," he acknowledges with a shrug as he continues down the stairs. "Of course, fighters aren't the greatest at masking our emotions, are we?"

As he gets to the bottom of the section, Ace casually hops the barricade to the arena floor; he takes a moment to breathe before focusing back in.

"With no guarantee of the True Expert Championship being in the Elimination Chamber, that was your be-all, end-all," he says, treading lightly on the floor below. "To you, beating Jack Benevolence was a matter of life and death, and now that you've fallen short, what do you have to live for in this Extreme Tournament? Playing spoiler for an upstart nobody wants to see upset the Experts establishment, least of all Jack and his bean counter?"

There's an uptick in Ace's intensity; one more exhale restores his balance.

"No," he states matter-of-factly. "That's not the Doug E. Fresh who became a True Expert, and your downtrodden bullshit isn't becoming of a True Expert of any kind. It doesn't matter if you magically found your mojo over the holidays, because the damage is already done."

Ace continues his walk across the arena floor, taking the time to appreciate this place from the inside.

"I know the feeling, because I've been there," he acknowledges with a wince. "Blowing four chances to become your company's Undisputed Champion can do that... But that's the thing about being born and raised here: No matter how long the odds may be, I've never stopped fighting. It was instilled in me from an early age, and while you've had your successes here, you'll never understand what it means to live here."

He bites his tongue for a moment, picking his next words carefully.

"I'm not afraid of a fight," he affirms, rolling his head on his neck. "No Disqualifications? Given my path to get here, it's merely a scratch. Sure, physical weapons could be a key factor, but I've got the biggest ace in my pocket: The people who fill these seats, the people who helped make your fortune and mine, THE PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO FIGHT FOR EVERY GODDAMN INCH."

Ace's eyes bulge from his head as his intensity ramps up one more time, though he quickly comes down.

"After Jack was saved by an early bell, I could have given up," he says. "Instead? I stunned the world by taking down the great Level-One... At least, everyone outside my bubble. Like I said before, I'm a fighter through and through. I knew what I had to do, and I did it... You? You're now fighting for survival, and most of the time, that would make you dangerous... Except you're facing a man with nothing to lose. Like I said of Lester, I shouldn't be in this position, but I am, and I'm not wasting it."

Ace bows his head, taking one more deep breath.

"At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what you... Or Jack's whitecoats, for that matter... Try to throw at me," he says, snapping his head up with narrowed eyes. "When the bell rings, I'm taking the Professor to school. Bet On It."