Truth be told this chapter has almost no bearing to the story at all. Considering the setting and major characters are mainly with the RAW roster (which I still believe is the stronger one, what more now with Kurt Angle there as well), I thought it would be just a little fun to mess around with the Smackdown! stars for one chapter. For now, enjoy.
Oh yeah, and for those interested, I updated On Air over at Nfiction. Check my homepage for the link.
Date Uploaded: 19 June 2005
Chapter 06: Folk From the Other Side
Despite the roster split (which was barely finite, what with the draft happening almost every year), stars from the Smackdown! brand could find themselves hanging around backstage during a RAW show, and vice versa. As such Eugene would sometimes visit the set before or during a Tuesday taping.
As such Shamborg was not without its own noteworthy personages as well.
Sir Curtis Angle was an upright knight, responsible, God-fearing, fair and brave, a decorated hero and jousting champion, all very admirable traits. Of course he probably would have been better liked if he weren't such a pious, stiff, preachy stick in the mud. He believed himself to be the perfect role model for not just knights but all men, and loathed anything that conflicted with his ideology.
He also had another peculiar quirk; he never took alcohol. That was why in banquets Sir Curtis was usually seen nursing a glass of milk among his very drunk peers.
"Curtis, man, you really have to lighten up," Sir Booker Huffman once told him in a slurring voice, already much too far gone over thirteen mugs of beer.
"Oh sure, and how would you get home to your family most evenings?" Curtis had shot back.
"Good point," Booker said after some consideration, before passing out on the table.
Fortunately Kurt Angle thought Eugene was a simpleton and needn't be bothered with, so whenever Eugene skittered by snickering into a black notebook, he hardly gave him a second glance. He may have if he figured out that Eugene had been the one to plant a stink bomb in his gym bag last joint roster PPV.
If Sir Curtis was Shamborg's poster child, Edward Guerrero was his anti-thesis. Considered a lying, cheating and stealing scoundrel by authorities, he was an outlaw who routinely picked on those in positions of power. He was loud, given to flashy entrances, drinks, and parties and had a definite eye for the ladies. And yet he was adored by the people and received more recognition and respect from them than Sir Angle did.
"You see, ese, you gotta learn to relax and have fun with the people," he said to Curtis during a brief period of imprisonment. "That's the only way they'll open up to you, holmes, not if you keep going on like you've got a lance shoved up your ass."
"I'll shove something up your ass if you don't shut up!" Sir Curtis had mistakenly answered to that, as other prisoners burst into peals of laughter. Edward escaped five hours later.
"Hey Eugene!" Eddie Guerrero called out when Eugene happened by. "Come and see me after the show, all right, ese? I'll take you out for a spin in the low rider and we'll meet up with some ladies, what do you say? Let's have some fun!" Eugene actually thought it did sound like fun, but unfortunately William Regal quickly pulled him away.
Easily the most feared man in Shamborg was Lord Mark Calloway the Phenom. It was said that he practiced dark arts and had learned them from the mouths of the dead during his years working as an undertaker. He was spoken of only in hushed voices and no child even dared look up at his gothic mansion on top of a steep crag. Most crimes of unsolvable nature were often attributed to his work.
"My brother?" Lord Kain of Rem said with a twisted smile when Eugene had once screwed up his courage to ask him about the Phenom. "You've heard all the rumors, haven't you?"
"Of course," Eugene remarked in what he hoped was an off-hand fashion.
"Well they're all true," Kain had said with a mixture of pride and envy.
Needless to say Eugene lowered his head with the rest of the kingdom when passing by Lord Calloway's formidable abode.
And even in real life Eugene kept his head bowed when moving past the Undertaker's dressing room. He was the only other person he didn't have to feign speechlessness around. Frankly he would have liked to meet him face to face, but Eugene resigned that to a day when he was confident his knees wouldn't knock together at the sight of the Phenom.
Miss Torrance Wilson was a popular stage actress. Some people wondered at this, since she had lackluster skills, but then again she had an extremely pretty face and could pull off looking angelic. Her roles frequently involved damsels in distress who somehow end up shedding clothes as the play progressed, usually garnering her standing ovations from the male population of the audience. Was rumored to be a former can-can dancer of some sort.
Torrie was nice and pretty but honestly a little too bland for Eugene's taste. And besides, he already had his eye on Gail Kim. But he figured it never hurt to look.
Lord Rene Dupree was a young, haughty French nobleman, who had inherited his title from his father. He was usually seen in the company of his manservant Morris and a ridiculous white poodle he affectionately named Fifi. He was arrogant enough to have knocked heads with the most important men in Shamborg and had even incurred the wrath of Lord Calloway, most probably due to blind ego and stupidity. Can be a bit of a dandy and was fond of comparing Shamborg to his beloved France.
"So why the hell doesn't he go back there?" Sir Raymond Mysterio II groused once. "It would mean harboring one less pain in the ass."
"I'm half-inclined to believe the French king shipped him off here on purpose," Miss Dawn Marie Psaltis grumbled back.
Eugene had always felt a little sorry for Fifi the poodle; with Rene always hauling it around to and from the ring amidst thousands of people the dog had to be confused. He tossed the animal a biscuit when Rene had his back turned.
One of the wealthiest figures was Lord Jonathan L. Shaw. Although notably less influential than Lord Helmsly, he was nonetheless the despot's counterpart in Shamborg. What Shaw lost in credibility he made up for in arrogance. He was fond of exhibiting his affluence to, it must be said, largely unaffected masses, and had a group of mostly glorified thugs that he called his Cabinet.
Sir John Cena was a different kind of knight. A bit of a rebel within the ranks, he loved shaking up old traditions and testing the patience of his superiors. This was the man who once jazzed up his armor with an eye-catching dragon slayer design and had it polished to a mirror shine, much to the irritation of his would be jousting partners. He spoke his mind, was jovial and friendly to those he liked and remained a thorn in the side of those he didn't.
"I don't like you," Lord Shaw had once sneered at him contemptuously. "And I think it only fair to warn you that those I dislike don't stay in their high-ranking positions for very long."
"Well, to be perfectly honest, Lord Shaw, I don't like you much either," Cena answered amiably while grooming his horse. "And those I dislike don't find it very easy to get rid of me."
He clicked his tongue and at that point the stallion whinnied and promptly kicked a bucket of dirty water all over Lord Shaw and the members of his Cabinet. The irate noble and his faction left the stables spewing curses as Cena leaned back and laughed.
Back in reality, Eugene looked up from his notebook to see Paul London looking suspiciously at a snickering John Cena. They were in the general face locker room and Cena had just entered.
"John, JBL's been bitching for about half an hour because someone stole those stupid horns off his limo," Paul said to him. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"What, me? No!" Cena said, still with the grin. "But like I've always said, those things would look good on the wall of my uncle's ranch."
"You're fucking nuts, John," Paul said, rolling his eyes but smiling. "Hey, convince Regal to let Eugene join Eddie, Rey, you and me after the show, would you? I'll see you guys outside," he waved and jogged out the door.
"What?" Cena said in mock surprise as he came over to Eugene and Regal. "Are you serious? What you got against Eugene hanging out with a couple of pals?"
Regal looked pained. "Nothing, but you have to admit that with the past few—"
"C'mon Willie, let the boy come with me and Eddie," Cena argued good-naturedly and cutting him off. "Trust me, it'll all be good clean fun, and we all know that now the kid is workin' for Trips it'll be a while before he gets another chance like this, you know what I'm sayin'?"
Eugene frowned a little at that. Well that was something he should have seen earlier.
Cena never noticed his momentary discomfort as he barreled on to Regal. "And if you're just trippin' coz you weren't asked earlier then consider yourself invited, dawg."
"Lovely of you to offer, but honestly, we'll pass," Regal said as cordially as possible without showing his distaste.
"I wanna ride the low rider, Willie," Eugene then thought to add, trying not to laugh at Regal's aghast features.
"See, he knows what he wants!" Cena exclaimed, slapping an arm around Eugene's shoulders. "End of discussion then; the taping may be over but the night isn't! Eugene, homey, the guys and I are goin' to show you a party you ain't never seen! You too, Willie," he slung his other arm around a startled William Regal and began to pull them towards the exit. "Let's go!"
And so Eugene pocketed his notebook with a grin as Regal started a string of relatively unheard protests. Triple H may not approve now that Eugene was technically in Evolution, but hey, Eugene figured he had six more nights before he would have to answer for it.
cont'd
Well enough with that little interlude. Was that completely pointless? Eh, maybe. Regularly scheduled programming will resume in the next chapter.
