enterSANDMAN


RP #	NEXT MATCH	RECORD	ACCOMPLISHMENTS	TITLES HELD
Two	Four Way @ ECW Anarchy	0/0/0	Currently ranked #18	Coming Soon!
The video open to a dingy gas station that doesn't look very maintained to say the least. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead and cast a pale glow on rows of dusty snack shelves and an outdated soda fountain machine. A small radio behind the counter plays a faint rock station, barely audible over the hum of an ancient ceiling fan. The place smells faintly of gasoline and stale coffee. The door jingles as it swings open, and in strolls The Sandman. He moves like he owns the place. Behind the register stands a middle aged gentlemen with a name tag that reads "Joe" across from his chest. He leans lazily against the counter, and when Sandman walks in, Joe provides him a subtle nod. The two exchange that nod, while Sandman heads directly to the beer coolers. Sandman grabs a 6er of the cheapest beer he can find, and heads back towards the register. JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "What's up, bud? Same thing as always?" Sandman doesn’t respond right away, as he's too busy fishing some crumpled bills out of his pocket. Sandman points to the cigarettes behind the counter. THE SANDMAN: “Pack of smokes, too.” Joe rings him up at a snail's pace, clearly in no hurry. He glances at Sandman, smirking slightly as he slides the cigarettes across the counter. JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "Gonna run you $13.73 today." Sandman sighs, annoyed at the price as he pushes the wad of bills over towards the register. Joe picks through the bills and flattens them, before hitting a few buttons on his register. He hands Sandman his change and completes the transaction. JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "So, big man, I heard you’re back in the ring." Sandman grabs a bottle from the six-pack, and holds it up towards Joe. THE SANDMAN: “You mind?” Joe shook his head 'no' and brushed him off. Sandman immediately twists the cap off, and takes a long swig. He exhales heavily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "So, how's ECW treatin' you?" THE SANDMAN: "It's work. A ring's a ring, and a fight's a fight. Nothin' special about it...” The attendant furrows his brow a bit. JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "Work, huh? Funny, I remember when ECW was more than just a paycheck to you. Not like you to play it cool, man. I seen you bust heads, light up the crowd. I gotta say, surprised to hear you treat it like "work".. Sandman smirks slightly, taking another swig from the bottle. He doesn't respond right away, just leans on the counter, watching as Joe puts the rest of the beer into a plastic bag. JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "But, hey, I’m just a guy behind a counter, right? What do I know? Still, gotta say, I'm lookin’ forward to seein' you back in the ring this week. ECW Anarchy is gonna be wild.” Sandman's demeanor suddenly changed and his head tilts slightly. He sets the beer bottle down with a soft thud and finally locks eyes with Joe. THE SANDMAN: "What was that?” JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "I said Anarchy’s gonna be wild. You’re on the card, right? Heard you’re booked against three other dudes in some 4-Way match. Some stiff competition from what I've heard, but that doesn’t matter. Point is, people are talkin’. They wanna see you back, man. They wanna see Sandman do what he does best." Sandman straightens up slightly, cracking his knuckles as a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. For the first time, there’s a glimmer of interest in his eyes. THE SANDMAN: "They wanna see me, huh?" JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: Damn right they do. And let me tell ya, Sandman - when you walk into that ring with that cane, crackin’ skulls, drinkin’ beers, and makin’ it a freakin’ warzone...that’s ECW incarnate, man. That’s what they pay to see. No one in this world can do what you do!” Sandman chuckles to himself, grabbing the plastic bag of his remaining beers and slinging it over his shoulder. He lights up a cigarette from the pack and exhales a cloud of smoke as he heads toward the door. THE SANDMAN: You might be stuck in this shithole, Joe - but you're a smart guy. You've got a point. Guess it’s time to remind everyone why I'm the last guy you want standing across from you in that ring.” He pauses at the door, looking over his shoulder with a grin that’s equal parts menace and confidence. THE SANDMAN: "See you around, Joe. Keep the beers cold." The door jingles again as Sandman steps out, leaving Joe smirking behind the counter. The camera lingers on the neon “OPEN” sign flickering in the window as the scene fades to black.

The video open to a dingy gas station that doesn't look very maintained to say the least. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead and cast a pale glow on rows of dusty snack shelves and an outdated soda fountain machine. A small radio behind the counter plays a faint rock station, barely audible over the hum of an ancient ceiling fan. The place smells faintly of gasoline and stale coffee. The door jingles as it swings open, and in strolls The Sandman. He moves like he owns the place.

Behind the register stands a middle aged gentlemen with a name tag that reads "Joe" across from his chest. He leans lazily against the counter, and when Sandman walks in, Joe provides him a subtle nod. The two exchange that nod, while Sandman heads directly to the beer coolers. Sandman grabs a 6er of the cheapest beer he can find, and heads back towards the register.

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "What's up, bud? Same thing as always?"

Sandman doesn’t respond right away, as he's too busy fishing some crumpled bills out of his pocket. Sandman points to the cigarettes behind the counter.

THE SANDMAN: “Pack of smokes, too.”

Joe rings him up at a snail's pace, clearly in no hurry. He glances at Sandman, smirking slightly as he slides the cigarettes across the counter.

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "Gonna run you $13.73 today."

Sandman sighs, annoyed at the price as he pushes the wad of bills over towards the register. Joe picks through the bills and flattens them, before hitting a few buttons on his register. He hands Sandman his change and completes the transaction.

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "So, big man, I heard you’re back in the ring."

Sandman grabs a bottle from the six-pack, and holds it up towards Joe.

THE SANDMAN: “You mind?”

Joe shook his head 'no' and brushed him off. Sandman immediately twists the cap off, and takes a long swig. He exhales heavily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "So, how's ECW treatin' you?"

THE SANDMAN: "It's work. A ring's a ring, and a fight's a fight. Nothin' special about it...”

The attendant furrows his brow a bit.

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "Work, huh? Funny, I remember when ECW was more than just a paycheck to you. Not like you to play it cool, man. I seen you bust heads, light up the crowd. I gotta say, surprised to hear you treat it like "work"..

Sandman smirks slightly, taking another swig from the bottle. He doesn't respond right away, just leans on the counter, watching as Joe puts the rest of the beer into a plastic bag.

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "But, hey, I’m just a guy behind a counter, right? What do I know? Still, gotta say, I'm lookin’ forward to seein' you back in the ring this week. ECW Anarchy is gonna be wild.”

Sandman's demeanor suddenly changed and his head tilts slightly. He sets the beer bottle down with a soft thud and finally locks eyes with Joe.

THE SANDMAN: "What was that?”

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: "I said Anarchy’s gonna be wild. You’re on the card, right? Heard you’re booked against three other dudes in some 4-Way match. Some stiff competition from what I've heard, but that doesn’t matter. Point is, people are talkin’. They wanna see you back, man. They wanna see Sandman do what he does best."

Sandman straightens up slightly, cracking his knuckles as a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. For the first time, there’s a glimmer of interest in his eyes.

THE SANDMAN: "They wanna see me, huh?"

JOE THE GAS STATION ATTENDANT: Damn right they do. And let me tell ya, Sandman - when you walk into that ring with that cane, crackin’ skulls, drinkin’ beers, and makin’ it a freakin’ warzone...that’s ECW incarnate, man. That’s what they pay to see. No one in this world can do what you do!”

Sandman chuckles to himself, grabbing the plastic bag of his remaining beers and slinging it over his shoulder. He lights up a cigarette from the pack and exhales a cloud of smoke as he heads toward the door.

THE SANDMAN: You might be stuck in this shithole, Joe - but you're a smart guy. You've got a point. Guess it’s time to remind everyone why I'm the last guy you want standing across from you in that ring.”

He pauses at the door, looking over his shoulder with a grin that’s equal parts menace and confidence.

THE SANDMAN: "See you around, Joe. Keep the beers cold."

The door jingles again as Sandman steps out, leaving Joe smirking behind the counter. The camera lingers on the neon “OPEN” sign flickering in the window as the scene fades to black.