The TV Show 6: Sylo

Pressure Point 67
July 14, 2003
Writers: John Leary & Justin H.

Action was back. In the ring, was Trey Vincent. There was not going to be opening credits tonight. Just a man, his desk and his green carpet. And of course, a microphone or two.

"Action! What's going down. Trey Vincent here, for the sixth and, well, final edition of this little show of ours."

There was a bit of buzz in the crowd from that, as well as a mixture of reactions. Trey Vincent was a hard guy to love. But if you did, you did. Seven weeks isn't exactly a great amount of time to prove yourself to a new crowd.

"Yes, you heard me right," Vincent continued. "I'm sure some all my viewers are very sad to learn of this news. But I might as well shoot straight with you. It's what I do. I've been signed to a good guaranteed contract. With the WWC. With Action, sadly, I was only hired on a week to week deal, and well, I honestly didn't feel too stable under those conditions.

"I've also been sports entertaining in the IWO. That's done as well. I've got to get in shape for my new home. And this is nothing against you Action fans. If I get the chance, I'd love to really show you all what I can do here besides talk. Although, I'm sure I made more fans in these seven weeks than most of the roster. Combined. Because I am such a big star.

"I gotta thank Reed Young for letting me jump aboard. He new this could happen. But he wanted ratings. So, buddy, RATINGS! I got you some. Get some fucking entertainment going on here besides Trey Vincent.

"OK. So that's my announcement. You'll always have your videos you can rewatch of my great shows. Some of the greatest TV you have ever seen. But if you miss me that much, well, November. WWC. Be there. We're gonna make history."

Vincent picked up a index card, ready to move on. The reaction from the fans was mixed. And it's quite possible that got to Trey just the littlest. "Oh yeah, one other thing. I had a few people booked for the future shows. Eh, but you'll do fine on your own. You don't need Trey Vincent. You just need some balls. So, apologies to um, whoever I booked.

"OK. Ladies and gentlemen, this week, I welcome the biggest man in Action. And no, I'm not talkin' about penis size. Simply because, well, I've never looked. Anyhow, here is the man, the myth, and the man who changes entrance music like socks, Sylo!"

"Droppin' Plates" by Disturbed kicks up as a hellacious explosion goes off on the stage. The fans explode as the one man wrecking crew walks a straight line toward the ring.

"Welcome, Sylo. Good to see you again. I'm sure all the fans are glad to see you as well," Vincent said, obviously starting VERY fluffy with the giant.

Sylo pulled from his back pocket a microphone and stared at Vincent "Cut through the bullshit and get down to business."

"You have a great physique there, Sylo. What's the, uh, secret behind your, *bulk*," Vincent said, then scooting a foot away from Sylo, just in case.

"It's called getting in the gym and from the looks of things you've been slacking," Sylo hissed out never moving his gaze from Vincent.

As the fans chuckled at the line from the Manbeast, so did TV. "I was in the mood to try a little game with you tonight Sylo, since I really didn't want to get powerbombed through my own desk here. You game?"

"It depends," Sylo said, his expression never changed. "Are you willing to suffer the consequences if you mess up."

Trey did the Vinnie Mac™ gulp. "Sure," he said, his voice cracking just the least bit there.

"Then I'm game," Sylo replied. Sylo stood watching TV's every move as he spoke

"OK. First word association. Action! fans."

The fans awaited Sylo's answer, obviously cheering for themselves being mentioned. What did Sylo think of the thousands of Action fans in the arena and thousands more watching?

"I think their what makes this company float," Sylo replied not looking out into the cheering masses, but instead kept his gaze on T.V

"OK, nice and cryptic. Next. What is "Hell" to Sylo? What does that mean for you, big guy?"

That question obviously hit Sylo because he cocked his head to the side and thought. He finally brought the microphone to his lips and spoke "Hell to me...is living life."

"I see, I see," Vincent said, now scribbling down notes, as if he were doing a psychiatric session. Or something. Who knows. "What about....Bobby Minio. What does Bobby Minio mean to Sylo?"

Sylo growled and took a step forward. His posture changed as he stared down Trey. "Minio is nothing more than a fool," Sylo growled.

"And what of KroW. You're old buddy from PIW? What do you think of KroW. The Satanic God. The Mind Manipulator. That really scary guy."

"What I think of KroW will stay with me...for now," Sylo replied, obviously to the dismay of the fans.

"What does Sylo think of Trey Vincent. The Sports Entertainment Icon. Action's Franchise Player. Leaving. For more money?"

"I think he's an extremely greedy, no talent, no good son of a bitch," Sylo roared

"Oh? Is that a fact? Well, after testing you with the word association test, I have determined what Sylo is. A typical useless giant. A guy who is all pissed off at this great world because the roids are melting your little brain. A guy who dyes his hair blue, and his pubes to match. A guy pissed off that he can't bulk up, his little, tiny, cock!"

The fans were in shock. They KNEW Trey was going to die. This wouldn't just be his last show in the company. It would be his last ANYTHING for those insults. If the fans had enough thought, they would have chanted "You're gonna DIIIIEEEEE." But they didn't.

Because Sylo laughed. He laughed hard. Instead of Vincent's usual post-insult action of running, he sat and watched. And began laughing himself. Vincent began banging his hand on the desk. But Sylo was calming down. And Vincent realized it.

Too late.

When Vincent saw Sylo's face, it was that of rage. Sylo's big right arm was on Vincent like a bullet out of a gun, giving him only time to choke. Sylo lifted Vincent over the desk and stared into Vincent's wide eyes.

Sylo didn't need some clever insult to rebut Vincent. He only needed a couple things.

To put Vincent between his legs.

Lift him up as high as he could into a powerbomb position.

SICK TIME! The powerbomb to chokeslam through desk!

CRRRRUNNNNCCHHHHH!

Desk, gone.

Vincent's pride, also gone.

Ego bruised, but not gone.

He wasn't going to be walking out with his head held quite as high now. Sylo exited to his music, content with the pain he had put on Vincent. A guy he barely knew.

As Sylo's music died down the second time this segment, Vincent managed to find himself a microphone.

"Well, for, um, myself, and that blue-haired monster guy, um, good night. And thanks for tuning in to another edition of the TV Show. Good night. You guys in Action have been great. Cheers."

NEXT CHAPTER: A New Season >>

©2003 John Leary