April 11th, 2019
The home of Bishop Kingston (Las Vegas, Nevada)
“Have you spoken with Johnny?”
Bishop Kingston slowly lifted his eyes from the book he held in his hands to fix his gaze on the pacing Ciara Kennedy. He was seated comfortably in a white leather chair tucked in the corner of his living room. He wear a light blue button up shirt - the top two buttons left undone revealing his massive pectorals - and dark gray slacks falling over black dress shoes. He had been attempting to catch up with his reading since returning to Las Vegas following Vertigo. It had been impossible to get any reading done while in the presence of Johnny Graves and Ciara Kennedy. Now that problem seemed to have followed him home.
“I spoke with him yesterday, actually,” Bishop informed her calmly wishing that she would stop pacing back and forth, wearing down his brand new carpet. “He had some business to tend to. I didn’t ask for details, but it seemed rather important. I would imagine he probably won’t return to Vegas before Evolution.”
Ciara nodded continuing her pacing. Her slender arms were folded over the black T-shirt that had the sleeves cut off that covered her breasts but not her midriff. The tight fitting blue jeans hugged all her curves perfectly, the frayed holes that littered them gave small peeks at her toned legs.
“I figured that,” she admitted. She would stop pacing and stare at Bishop looking slightly annoyed. “What are you reading anyway?”
Bishop would briefly lower his eyes to the book in his hands before returning them to her.
“War and Peace,” he stated plainly.
“Why the hell are you reading War and Peace?” Ciara questioned, her face scrunched in a look of disgust.
“Because it’s a classic,” Bishop explained to her calmly. “And because I haven’t read it in awhile. Also, I assumed that I would have a few days alone before having to head out again to rejoin everyone in Kansas City.”
Ciara continued staring at him her expression morphing to one of defiance.
“Are you saying you want me to leave?” she would question challengingly.
“No,” Bishop would assure her with a slight shake of his head. “Just explaining to you is all.”
Bishop would sigh softly as he closed the book and placed it beside him on the left arm of the chair. He adjusted his position in the chair one again finding a comfortable situation. He studied Ciara for a moment.
“I’m assuming it’s safe to say you’re not going to allow me any quiet time,” Bishop subtly mocked her. “So what would like to do, Ciara?”
“I was hoping to get into the ring and train with you and Johnny,” she explained impatiently. “It was the whole reason I flew to Vegas instead of home. But Johnny’s not here, you’re being lame, and I’m worried.”
Bishop would curiously lift a single eyebrow as he continued to watch Ciara for a moment.
“What exactly is it you’re worried about, Little Bird?”
There was some hesitation in Ciara’s response. She dropped her arms to her sides and tilted her head ever so slightly to the left as her eyes bore into Bishop’s. The uncertainty coursing through her mind was visible in her eyes and body language. She sighed and shook her head.
“It’s always been us,” she explained in a low tone. “Just the three of us. We’ve always had each other’s backs and we’ve always been fine. We’ve been able to do whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. Now all of a sudden it’s not enough? Suddenly Johnny wants to start bringing in other people? What do we know about this Ophelia McVeigh character? Nothing. But you’ve got to team with him in a few days and everything’s supposed to be okay? You can’t tell me you’re comfortable with this situation!”
Bishop would remain silent for some time as he continued to simply study Ciara. He understood her reluctance to trust. He understood all too well where she was coming from. She was correct. Since the day the three of them came together they had been inseparable. She was also correct in that they had never before needed anyone else. They trusted each other, loved each other, relied on each other.
“I assure you I’m completely comfortable with the situation,” he corrected her in a calming tone. “You said it yourself. It’s always been the three of us and it always will be. I understand your hesitation, Little Bird. I do. But it’s Johnny we’re talking about. You know as well as I that no matter the situation, he’s always got a plan. And he has never misled us before. Despite his… impulsiveness. Johnny recruited Ophelia because Ophelia will add strength to our cause. He’s loyal to the cause same as each of us. That is all I need to know.”
“Really?” Ciara challenged. “That’s all you need to know?”
“You think Johnny’s making a mistake?”
Ciara would shake her head no.
“No, I’m not questioning his decision,” she explained. “But you know how he gets. He gets these ideas in his head and sometimes he allows the goal to blind him. How many times have you or I had to pull Johnny out of the fire because his temper or ambition have gotten him in over his head?”
Bishop would nod his head in agreement.
“And if he gets in over his head again we will be there to pull him out,” Bishop urged her. “As will Ophelia. You cannot deny that he proved his worth at Vertigo. Come Evolution he will prove his worth further when he and I defeat Paradine and Steel. From there the cause will grow. The CWF will soon come to realize that they have a war on their hands. A war they are not prepared to fight. Let alone win. While these peons squabble and bicker over meaningless pieces of painted metal and leather, disOrder will infect the very foundation of the company and we will destroy everything.”
April 12th, 2019
Location Unknown (Las Vegas, Nevada)
As the cameras begin their transmission we open on what can only be described as a well lit parking garage. The vehicles that inhabited the garage varied in both condition and luxury. The driver’s side door of a black Cadillac Escalade slowly swung open and from behind the wheel emerged the massive frame of the man who had been involved in the attack at Vertigo. Bishop Kingston. Once free from the confines of the SUV he closed the door and turned around to bring himself facing the camera. He would slowly walk towards them, his attention diverted to the black leather driving gloves that covered his hands. One by one he carefully pulled his hands free of them as he continued moving towards the camera. He wore a white button-up shirt - top two buttons left undone - , black slacks, and a black suspenders. Dark - and expensive - sunglasses covered his eyes. He would look up into the camera’s lens once his hands were free from the gloves. Reaching a massive hand up to his face, he pinched the arm of the sunglasses between his thumb and forefinger and pulled them away from his eyes. Folding the arms, he would look away from the camera only long enough to tuck the sunglasses into the breast pocket of his shirt.
“Greetings fans, talent, and management of CWF alike. Some of you may - or may not - recognize me but please allow me the pleasure of officially introducing myself. My name is Bishop Kingston and I signed a contract with the Championship Wrestling Federation a few weeks ago. But I was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment to announce my presence here. As many of you know, those weeks of waiting paid off when I debuted alongside Ophelia McVeigh in what was the opening salvo of a movement here in CWF.
You see, for the men and women that find themselves on the CWF roster it would be a mistake to assume that Vertigo was a one time thing. It would be a mistake to assume that attack was simply to send a message to Johnny Graves’ enemies. It would be a mistake to assume that was simply to ‘take out’ Johnny’s enemies. No. You see this disOrder, this movement, this cause… this is much larger than Johnny Graves. It’s larger than Ophelia McVeigh, Ciara Kennedy, even myself. This movement is about the sickness that plagues the professional wrestling industry and therefore the CWF. There isn’t a single member of the roster that is safe from the movement. This is a revolution. If you choose to align yourself with the status quo, if you don’t possess the fortitude to align yourself with change, you will be considered an enemy. And therefore you will be destroyed along with everything you stand for.”
Bishop would pause at this time to allow his words to sink into the minds of whoever would listen to this recording. After several brief moments he would allow his lips to curl slightly in a confident smile.
“Which brings me to my primary point. April sixteenth, Sprint Center, Kansas City, Missouri. Nathan Paradine. Trent Steel. The Hostile Elite. Unfortunately for you two it would appear that you have drawn the short straw. It would appear that CWF Management doesn’t realize the threat that is closing down upon. Or perhaps they do, and like all zealots that cling to the hollow truths believe that you two are men to halt the movement. Of course, we cannot ignore the possibility that they are simply sacrificing you in hopes it will satiate the beast that prowls on the other side of the door. But there are truths that we all must come to face before Evolution or the consequences could be dire. You are not the men to halt to movement. Your sacrifice will not satiate the beast. There is a threat bearing down on the very existence of CWF and they are not prepared for it. There will be a war on their doorstep before they even understand who the enemy is.
Nathan Paradine; the Australian Submission Machine; the Hostile Exile… The man who walked away from the business and has now made his triumphant return. It’s all so… mundane don’t you think? The conquering hero returning for vengeance, for one more run, for… redemption. It’s a story as old as time that has been told time and time again. But I assure you, Nathaniel, if it is in fact redemption you seek you will not find it here. If it is one more run you seek, it will end here. I won’t sit here and purport to know everything about you, Nathaniel. Because that would be a lie. I do not know much about you. I haven’t studied you, I haven’t followed you, I haven’t so much as heard your name before seeing the ads for Evolution. I don’t mean that as an insult. Truly. Because the same words could easily come from your lips in regards to me. That’s fine. Because what has been done in the past, be it triumph or failure, means nothing in this moment. Whatever you’ve accomplished in the past, whatever your reasons for returning to the sport will mean nothing when you climb through those ropes and face off with Ophelia McVeigh and myself.
Trent Steel. Are you happy with your life? Are you comfortable with the choices and decisions you have made? Silly questions, I know. I only ask because it fascinates me, really. What kind of man walks around with his face painted like a twelve year old kid on Halloween? Don’t get me wrong, I understand that being angsty, mysterious, and possibly a little bit crazy is in right now. Very, very hot. I just wonder what it is that would make a grown man look in the mirror, face covered in black and white paint, and think ‘yeah, I look scary.’ Because you don’t. In fact, in the limited material that I have viewed on you there isn’t anything scary about you. You’re all aesthetic with no substance. All thrill with no content. You’re the everyday, garden variety, crazy guy with a potty mouth, painted face, and violent tendencies. My God, is there some kind of convention you all gather at every year to discuss the exciting new advancements in the field of being pathetic? But don’t worry. Like everyone that has come before you, you will get what you so desperately crave. You will get pain. You will get destruction. You will get violence. And as McVeigh and I stand over the broken corpses of you and your comrade everything will be made clear. This movement, this disOrder is not a fleeting notion in the anals of history. This movement is your future.”
Again Bishop would fall silent, though only momentarily.
“I find it poetic that my first taste of competition in the CWF will be against two men who have decided to call themselves the Hostile Elite. Hostility is precisely what you will find at Evolution. Hostility is precisely what is on the docket for the two of you. The sad truth, however, is when the final bell rings you will not be standing as the elite. You will be laid to rest, buried, and forgotten. But at the very least, you can find solace in the fact that you are not alone. One by one every member of the CWF roster will fall at out feet. The trail of mangled corpses that will lie in our wake will be absolutely illustrious. Let the hostility… begin.