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[Interior of a van. No seats aside from the driver’s and a lone passenger seat. Our view is from the rear of the automobile, looking out the front window. We can see that the van is moving, as cars and buildings pass by our view. A firm guess would say Atlanta. A not-so-particularly-nice part of Atlanta. Shouldn’t be hard to imagine, there’s plenty of them. It is nighttime. Streetlights and neon signs provide more than enough background illumination as they bully their way in through the window. The sounds are that of city streets from inside a moving car. Pavement rushing by, horns honking, sirens crying in the distance.]
[An undistinguishable figure drives the vehicle. Although clearly a man, details of who he is are unattainable and unimportant. Our view is focused on the two men in the back of then van with us. Who they are is not hard to distinguish. “The Resistance” (Denton Cage) and “The Uprising” (Diego Valencia). They are both dressed in all black; short sleeve tee’s and denim jeans with heavy black boots. They are crouched down, seemingly prepared to strike at any moment.]
Cage: [directly to the camera, in a voice that is restrained and husky, almost whispering] Glad you could join us for our little late night ride.
Valencia: No rest for the wicked. So no rest for the Movement. [he chuckles softly]
Cage: While introductions seem unnecessary, perhaps we should take this time to explain ourselves. You see, we represent the Morality Underground Movement, although you probably already new that.
Valencia: And that’s about all the credit we’ll give you.
Cage: We’ve decided to deploy the first stage of our operation here in Atlanta, the crime center of the Southern United States, and home to some of the sleaziest trash in America. One look around the GCW and it seems we’ve chosen the right place.
Valencia: [holding up a finger and wagging it back and forth] Tsk, tsk, tsk…You boys and girls have been naughty. [again with the chuckling]
Cage: So you see, we’ve come here to clean up your act. The world of professional wrestling is a cesspool. A haven for egomaniacs and perverts who relish their own vulgarity, who take pride in their perversity, their ungodly ways.
Valencia: Yeah. You people are sick.
Cage: Enter the Movement. We’ll stop at nothing to make you repent the folly of your disgraceful decadence. No longer will you threaten the moral fabric of this great nation. We’ll see to that personally. And it so it begins. And how appropriate that they have laid before our feet a pair who represent a country that once stood to destroy our way of life.
Valencia: [crying like a frightened housewife] Ooh! Ooh! The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!
Cage: Russian Ring Masters? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the famed Moscow Circus would be the only institution that survived the crumbling of that pathetic country. So now you send your freaks into America? Sorry, circus boys, but we’re no longer accepting applications. Time for you to go home. Your methods have failed. Your attempts at keeping the people in line were weak, and as a result, an entire nation is lying in shambles, it’s people starving. Dying. Sinking into the depths of a depressed humanity without morals or guidelines.
Valencia: In a word, boys – pathetic.
Cage: There will be others that follow. A close look at the GCW roster reveals a nasty little group of misguided children that can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves, or their thoughts out of the gutter. You people try to use sex and vulgarity to hide your shortcomings. It is an old ploy. Dress up the presentation and hope that no one sees behind the glitz. Unfortunately for you all, we know enough to look beyond the show, and see into your black hearts. And what an ugly sight it is.
Valencia: Indeed. I feel dirty just talking to these people. [he lets a shudder run through his body then pretends to wipe his body clean from an unseen layer of filth]
Cage: But we are not stupid enough to look beyond the first challenge. All in due time. So we will dispense of these pesky circus performers from the forgotten land, and then we will continue our assault through your ranks until this entire degenerate federation has been cleansed. It will not be pretty. But it will be done. Because unlike you, who are driven by greed, or ego, or fame, or some misguided search for revenge on society for ruining your childhood…
Valencia: [a weak impersonation of Scorn] My Daddy didn’t love me enough. So you will all pay for my tortured soul.
Cage: …we are committed to our purposes. While you fight for your titles, and smile pretty for your cameras, waving at the hordes of scum that follow your antics like sheep, we fight for a way of life. So go on and cloud your minds and hearts with drugs and alcohol. Parade your plastic women out for all the world to see. Bury your heads in empty hatred. Because while you’re not looking, we’ll be taking you out. Because the Movement has begun, and it cannot be stopped.
Valencia: [holding his finger to his lips] But shhhhh. Remember. M.U.M.’s the word.
[Just then, the van comes to a screeching halt. In a flurry, our two companions throw open the rear doors and vault past the camera into the street. The camera struggles to spin around fast enough, but eventually does, catching a glimpse of the Movement in action. We watch as “The Resistance” and “The Uprising” bring their vengeance down upon another unsuspecting victim. In the street before us stand a trio of prostitutes. The low end of the scale at that. While “The Uprising” disposes of a would-be “John” with extreme prejudice, “The Resistance” easily picks up two of the women, throws them over his shoulder and begins to return to the van. He throws each in the back and turns his face right up to the camera.]
Cage: Time for you to go.
[With that, he places his massive hand over the lens of the camera, which moments later cuts to blackness. After a few second, a single phrase appears on screen. It reads:]
Clean Your Mind
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