Champion Of All

Menace 2
Nov. 17, 2003
Starring: Trey Vincent and Seth Miller

The cameras returned inside the Rochester arena. The fans were ready for some more exciting WWC action. The cameras focused on the ring for several seconds, when all of a sudden things began falling from the ceiling.

No, not balloons.

Or streamers.

Or pamphlets.

These just fell fast and hard, and all landed in the ring.

Gold. Title belts. Enough to cover most of the WWC mat.

'My Own Summer (Shove It)' by Deftones hit. The LevineTron lit up with shot of a television set, and on that set was Trey Vincent. TV on TV. The boos resumed for Trey Vincent, a sound he loved to hear. He stepped out in two spotlights, sporting a grin.

He raised his arms out wide and then began walking down the aisle. He smiled at the various fans along the aisle, pointing at them and clapping for them. He booed a couple people himself. Vincent climbed the stairs and entered the ring, soaking in every reaction. He didn't care if he got booed or cheered.

As long as he got a reaction, he was doing something right, in his mind.

Vincent had brought his own microphone. He stood, center ring among the many titles. They were replicas of titles from feds of the past and present. fWo titles. Action! titles. jOlt titles. PIW titles. 21W titles. Asylum titles. XW titles. Tornado Wrestling titles. CSWA titles. IWO titles. IOW titles, as worthless as they were. OSW, CWL, the list went on and on. As TV's music died down, he waited for more reaction from the crowd.

'Hello, viewers. Welcome to the entertaining portion of the evening. For those who missed the show last week and have been living under a rock for the last year and a half, you are looking at Trey Vincent. The Franchise Player of the WWC. The Sports Entertainment Icon of this business. The reason your wives have headaches. The reason your wife is up all night watching sports entertainment. And the role model for every man. After all, money, sex and alcohol make the world go 'round, and I've got the most of all three. I'm a well-rounded millionaire, unlike all those other little-peckered losers.

'I've got it all. But I want more...' Vincent said, reaching down to pick up a title.

'For those who are wondering why I have all these titles out here, it's very simple. I'm here to prove a point to the fans of the WWC, and the idiot running this place. In my hand is the fWo title. What some consider the biggest prize in the industry...'

Vincent dropped the microphone, wound up and threw that title deep into the middle of the fans on the floor.

'Fucking worthless to me. Now, as for the rest of these. I want you to understand something. I have been in this business since about this time two years ago. In that time, I have made a reputation for myself of a cocky, self-serving asshole. A man who stands alone. A backstage politician. A shooter.

'But I want you all to understand something about Trey Vincent. Yes, I am in this for the money, but it is about damned time that Trey Vincent became what he is supposed to be. A champion. A WORLD CHAMPION. If I could go back in time into these feds and fight there champions, I would win. If I wasn't in the WWC, I could win any of the World Titles in these other feds that still stand.

'It's main event time. It's championship time. It's fame, it's glory, it's movie deals, it's leaving an impression that won't be forgotten for years after I'm gone. People will look back and see the man who overcame living on the street to go to the top of this industry. They won't see the poor son of a bitch who slept in his car, hoping to get into this business. They won't see Trey Vincent as that loser. They will see Trey Vincent in the main event, holding every title I get a chance to win.

'I don't bleed for this industry to be just another guy lost in the roster. Forgotten, ignored, like so many people who had talent, and maybe could have gotten to the top, but didn't. Those are the people I devour backstage. They can fight all they want out here, but they better watch how things take shape. Because this is going to be my fed one day.

'These belts. Action. Asylum. 21W. jOlt. PIW. TW2K. They have paved the way for Trey Vincent. They have paved the way for the greatest champion the WWC has seen, and the greatest champion this industry has seen. I got all the talent I need. There's only more more thing I need. So Paul Levine, you better--'

That's when Trey Vincent was cut off to his surprise.

'Born in the USA' rose throughout Rochester, New York. Trey Vincent immediately went silent, and looked towards the entrance ramp. The fans in attendance rose to their feets immediately recognizing the theme song to be that of Morally Correct. Trey Vincent may have taken down one member, but the other was at full health and ready to fight. It was the partner of Brandon Ramos; Seth Miller. The veteran of the wrestling world, at the age of 45, was making his way directly to the ring. He slapped no hands, he made no kind gestures towards the crowd who was cheering him; he simply walked up the steps, into the ring and grabbed a microphone. Trey Vincent simply cocked an eyebrow up, and looked to speak once more...but was cut off once again...

'Shut your damned mouth Vincent, I didn't come out here to listen to you say another word', Miller spoke firmly, causing the fans to uproar in cheers, 'Last week, you took out my best friend; a guy who brought me into the wrestling world and a guy who I've been partners with for over 20 years. You see, Trey, Brandon taught me alot of things about wrestling...but one thing that sticks in my mind is...never take a tainted win lying down. And if it wasn't for the damned concussion you gave him, he'd be standing in here right now. But instead, I'm stepping up to the plate...not as a guardian, but as a friend. I'm not going to waste alot of time Trey, because honestly...talk is cheap. I'm here to simply issue the challenge up front with you...tonight, in Rochester!'

There were cheers, but Trey didn't even care now. 'Blahdeblahblah blah. Hey, look, I didn't realize this federation was turning into a nursing home. Buddy, you do realize your entrance song is like 20 years old. Maybe you meant something back then, but I doubt it, if you were partners with that guy I beat last week. Did Brandon also teach you how to bore the crowds? Now get out of here and go take your meds.'

'Unlike you, Trey, I'm not here as an entertainer...I'm here as a wrestler. You see the difference between people like you and people like me...is that people like you take these', Miller said as he pointed to his microphone, 'And use them to talk, while people like me have a better use for a microphone...and you know what that is?'

'I swear to god, if it's some sort of sexual stimulation I don't want to know', Vincent said with a smirk across his face.

WHAM!

The fans blew up in cheers, as the microphone was completely shattered across Vincent's skull. Miller stood firmly over Vincent and began yelling at the fallen Vincent, 'Get your damned trunks on, and get ready...this is a WRESTLING company...not a soap opera'. Miller stomped out of the ring as 'Born in the USA' resurfaced, getting the fans in an ultimate frenzy. Trey Vincent had been laid out by his favorite object in the entire world, his baby - the microphone. And as Trey Vincent lay amongst the shatters pieces of the microphone, and the belts surrounding...one thing stuck in his dazed mind...he didn't get the last laugh.

And that pissed him off more than anything.

NEXT CHAPTER: Trey Vincent vs. Seth Miller >>

©2003 John Leary