Post by theaccountant on Jun 13, 2020 21:36:19 GMT -5
(The Accountant is shown walking into a dimly lighted room with red paneled walls. He is dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and blue tie. He is sporting a silver Rolex watch and his black hair is slicked all the way back. And his trademark spectacles are positioned just right off of his nose. As he enters the darkened room, a light becons him forward and it shines over a golden tumbler device that has some empty containers inside of it. Playfully, the Accountant takes his handle and does a few cranks, and then places both of his hands on top of it and begins to speak)
"The time is nearly upon us. The SFT tradition that is known as the Lethal Lottery. For your truly, this will be the fifth time that I have entered such a competition, with my last venture taking place in 2003 when I made it all the way to the Summer Scorcher finals. The crazy thing about the Lethal Lottery is that you never know what is going to happen. The SFT brass come into a room like this one, put all of our names inside of the containers you see here, crank this wheel, and your fate is determined by the order that they pull things out. At times, you get someone that is reliable. Other times, you have to shoulder the workload. The randomness of the situation invites a lot of stress and for a long-term planner like myself, adds a lot of anxiety to my 24/7 lifestyle. And yet this round of the Lethal Lottery has presented me with a draw to my liking. In my corner I get to have a two-time SFT World Champion in Rumpke, a man who has done almost everything there is to be done in the SFT. We have nothing in common in terms of lifestyle choices. He fashions himself as a drunken brawler and I am someone who never drinks and is a mat technician. He has wrestled in lots of other companies and I have been relatively exclusive to the SFT. The man clearly loves his hard rock music, whereas for me more classical tunes are appropriate. But what binds us together this Sunday at the Lethal Lottery is that we both want to advance to the quarter-finals and be two of the last eight men standing. And that, above all, is the beauty of the Lethal Lottery.
"When I look at the lay of the land for Sunday, I am also overjoyed at who we have opposing us. First, we have Eli Martin, a man with whom I have significant unfinished business in the SFT. Martin, the Hardcore Championship that you wear around your waist might as well carry an asterisk. Remember that it took two men - Jamo and Jack Jones - to help you get that title shot on the last Tuesday Night Titans. You already saw that fate befell Mr. Jones on that show, as I left him a bloody pulp on the canvas once I got possession of my Halliburton briefcase. I could care less about hardcore wrestling, but I will gladly alter my style to get another crack at you. But before that happens, we are boxed into the constraints of our tag team match at the Lethal Lottery. You have to depend and rely on your partner just like I do, but mark my words: you are on the audit list, Mr. Martin. You are a big fraud for all the kids that look up to you and any others that want to emulate your clean lifestyle. All fraud gets exposed sooner or later and I'll make it my mission in my life right now to expose you and then destroy you on my way to the top.
"But not to be rude, Mr. Martin's tag team partner is Jackson Kent, the only man that we have heard from so far in the lead-up to our match. Kent is the biggest man on the SFT roster, reaching so high that he operates in a different climate than the rest of us. I am giving up more than a foot of height the moment that I walk into the ring with him. But the best that Mr. Kent can throw at me is that I am a mere IRS agent? Believe me, Mr. Kent, I am much, much worse. When people used to see me coming down the streets of downtown Atlanta or downtown Washington, D.C. they knew that they needed to clear out of town. Corporate suits feared me, other accountants hated my reputation, and the government loved my ability to pursue tax cheats and bring them to justice. I have not taken the time to personally audit you, Mr. Kent, and our paths have never crossed but it seems like you are underestimating one of the most underrated competitors in SFT history. Have you even bothered to check my record? If not, let me run it down for you: four-time United States Champion, former Television Champion, former Hardcore Champion, and former Lethal Lottery finalist. Out of those accomplishments, what do you have to match? A cursory glance at your record here leaves something lacking. You might argue that Rumpke is a drunk, but that will just make him crazy. Me? You fail to take me seriously and the next thing you know you will be tapping out to an Audit. Your big legs will not save you because as they say, the bigger they come the harder they fall. And besides, you think I care if my parter shows up to the Lethal Lottery drunk? Rumpke knows how to fight, scratch, and brawl and that's all that matters. Meanwhile, the only thing that I see you chasing is some tail on the side instead of learning the ropes, and the latter is the only way to the top of this business."
(The Accountant takes off his spectacles quickly and looks at the camera)
"I AM THE BEST DAMN TAX MAN IN WASHINGTON, D.C. and when the Lethal Lottery is done on Sunday night, Rumpke and I will be walking out the winners and moving to the next round. Nuff' said."
(The Accountant puts his shades back on, straightens himself, and begins walking out of the room to the right as the scene fades to black)
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