The world can change in an instant, all it takes is action. Crossing from one side of the globe to the other, the UTA superstars were experiencing how difficult that action could be. If an "on the road" schedule in the United States was tough, this had been something else entirely and practically all of the wrestlers were looking forward to the end of International Affair and the opportunity to recuperate from what had been a truly gruelling schedule.
This leg though, had been particularly rough. Ireland to Melbourne is not an easy journey, no matter what comfort you fly in. For most on the UTA payroll, that comfort was economy class - and sitting on a plane for over twenty four hours with screaming children, overweight Brits and a general foul smell was not anyone's idea of downtime. It would have been mildly bearable if one could sleep the whole way through, but changing at London, Dubai and then straight to Melbourne, that opportunity for a serious night cap was not on the agenda.
Lucky then, that CBR had his own mode of transportation - and luckier still, he had been able to pick his co-passengers. On their "official" days, Laura and Katie were American Airlines stewardesses. Tonight, however, they were "guests"...on this private plane ordered at the behest of one Jonathan Spencer Kae, the silent benefactor of the Canadian Star.
"One more time ladies, one more!" The eager tones of the Canadian betray his identity immediately as the scene fades into view. Black and beige leather coat the seats, a trolley full of bottles sitting idly by a selection of those seats as Claude Ranier waves a bottle of champagne carelessly in his left hand, little drops spilling out and onto the carpeted jet floor,
"See if you can make him blush..."
Across from the melee, Vladivar Motonosky sits with a disapproving look on his face. The old Russian, a part of CBR's life now for the past seven years knows he has no affect on the goings on of these trips, but he always displays his displeasure regardless. The hope is that one day, CBR will embrace his talents as one of the worlds greatest technical specialists and take this damn thing seriously.
CBR: That's it! Laura, put some effort into it and...the eyes, yes! Look him in the eyes!"
The scene cuts to the side where a view of the two girls is clear - Laura, the blonde, her shirt on the ground and bra encasing her love mounds is eagerly running her hand through her counterparts hair. Katie, a half Asian European lady, is clearly enjoying the embrace of her lips...
Vladivar snarls, turning away from the scene, shoots a look at Claude before rising to his feet and slowly walking down the aisle to a less "frenetic" part of the cabin. With a wave, Ranier beckons the women.
CBR: Please, ladies, follow him. I want Vlad back here to enjoy your...talented chemistry. While you're at it, another bottle would be splendid!
The girls grin and jump from their seats, each leaning down to place a gentle kiss on CBR's jaw before turning and swaying seductively away. How much it cost Ranier to get this level of audience, one can only imagine - surely the whole escapade engulfs the future Hardcore Champion's monthly salary, whoever it might be...
Claude glances over at the camera, the smile wide on his face.
CBR: Well, anything to relieve the boredom, hey folks?
The rhetorical question is met by his lips curling downwards, the smile less pronounced.
CBR: But then, even all this cannot negate the fact that the United Toughness Alliance has forced its greatest asset to fly for days in the hopes that some of you may actually be entertained.
Claude lifts the bottle of champagne a few inches, looking closely at the contents, almost finished and leans back up to look at the camera again.
CBR: And where has John Sektor been in all of...this? He wasn't in Mexico, wasn't in Puerto Rico and certainly wasn't really in Egypt. And Ireland? Well...he showed his true metal there, allowing the filthy Sean Jackson to escape with an undeserved win - that man has not EARNED much recently - but then, Jason Cashe is a hero and we will rectify that shortly.
Ranier's chest rises as he inhales a deep breath, before letting it slowly escape, placing the bottle on his lap, tilted inches towards him.
CBR: I don't remember James Wingate giving me such a light schedule when I went through hell to destroy Yoshii to win that Legacy belt. He didn't give me that kind of favour when I destroyed Dan Benson and dethroned the so called legend Chris Hopper. In fact, for every day of my two hundred and thirty seven day reign, CBR was alert, on point and carried that title with distinction and class.
He leans forwards towards the camera, one leg curling over the other and his free arm resting on the comfortable chair's edge.
CBR: I suppose the prerequisites of being a champion have slipped in the past few months - another problem that, on fifteenth of November can be easily rectified. That title will represent class and credibility once more, in the very near future.
The wink that follows is clearly meant for the fans and for Sektor himself, the brash cocky nature of the Canadian evident and clear. He leans back against the seat, hand resting once more on his lap as the right leg remains curled over its partner.
CBR: And so, as a precursor to Tokyo in three weeks time, management finds it appropriate to send their top star seventeen thousand kilometres to a backwater world where beer has replaced breakfast and everything that moves is capable of a death strike. Nice job UTA...great work looking after your marquee performer.
Claude idly runs his finger tips over the edge of the bottle, looking down at it and away from the camera. A light jump forces a paper to slip off its table and onto the floor as a brief spell of turbulence covers the plane - nothing that would concern Ranier though - a man of no wasted motion.
CBR: You know, I've seen it all. Or at least, I thought I had. We've had aliens, sumo freaks, pimps and even a little red and blue masked failure, but last week...last week Cecilworth, you surpassed it all.
Eyes return to the camera as Claude regards the screw with not even the hint of a smile.
CBR: Two illiterate yokels were placed in the paths of the elite, swept duly aside and paraded with humorous vitriol across an audience who can barely tie their own shoelaces let alone grasp the concept of a joke. They were a representation of you all, the UTAverse as some of my lesser colleagues might call you - a truly redundant race of cretins, adding no value to the world you ingest like eager leeches.
He slowly shakes his head, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a gulp of the remaining liquid. The champagne barely fizzes and disappears in an instant, before the Canadian's stare returns to your screen.
CBR: And despite a cowardly forceful thrust to the greatest set of jewels on the planet...
Claude motions downwards.
CBR: Kendrix, the future of the UTA, and I - the present - walked away with the win and etched another victory in the stone of UTA history. But it wasn't the win that upset me so much - it was the level of competition the UTA has begun allowing into the greatest federation on earth these days. The Dibbins', for all they entertain you weak minded fools - have no business being in the ring with the God of Kings...
He lifts his hand with the bottle and places it aside on the trolley, letting it drop onto its side with a clunk.
CBR: And so fast forward two weeks, Melbourne, where the national game simply makes no sense - and CBR is in another match that simply, makes no sense. Tommy Gunner, another one of these simple Amoebae that Michael Lorenzo has seen fit to scoop up off of the street. One saving grace perhaps, is that this imbecile is not from Chicago or defiant in any way - we all know how that lot faired!
The grin returns to Ranier's lips as he sits back comfortably, placing his left hand over his knee and arching his neck downwards to look at the camera.
CBR: A man with no purpose, no direction or history, who comes out to music you no doubt will all find absolutely hilarious and clap along to; who has a name that inspires thoughts of round guns and the eighties. A man who will dance to the ring, entertain you all with his circling hips or thumping head and jump around the ring like a pterodactyl without wings, big smiles all round and a real sense of hysteria that he made it to Wrestleshow, the pantheon of the gods.
Claude's grin disappears as he blinks, taking a slow breath and uncrossing his legs.
CBR: No matter. Because after the hilarious music ends, when the acrobatics stop and the fans stop chanting more, you are left with a problem Tommy. That problem is me. I'm angry, I'm motivated, I'm hungry to regain what's mine at International Affair. You stand across the ring on Monday with the God of Kings and your career hangs in the wind by a threaded piece of string.
He leans forward, elbows on his lap as he does.
CBR: One motion from me and that little neck snaps. One thrust of my fist, the lights go out. Tommy, I plan to use you to show the world just who in the hell they've been overlooking these past few months. I plan to break you, twist your limbs into impossible angles and make sure at least one joke is removed from the UTA. Then, at International Affair...I remove another...