Prologue:
This was it. The match Jack had been planning for at least a month. The ultimate goal of his time in Sin City Wrestling. He had worked to make it a reality, and now here it was. It was, unquestionably, the biggest match is Jack’s short career. A match that maybe some had expected, but no one would say they expected to happen this fast. Jack was determined that this would be his moment to shine, and that make this week unlike any other before it. All other matches paled in comparison to this one. Nothing would be bigger, as far as Jack was concerned.
The mood was different. The training was different. Nothing gets a wrestler more prepared than a chance like this. The entire week had this insane energy and feeling to it. Jack almost felt like his heart would explode from his chest he was feeling so anxious. Numerous times he had to stop his training to settle himself down. Sleep was a luxury. It came in waves, and hours upon hours of restlessness. And it didn’t seem to bother Jack with all the adrenaline flowing through him. He tried to sit down and think about a game plan, he tried to focus himself, and at times, he was successful. But most of the time, he felt like he was about to run through a wall he had so much energy. He tried to trick himself into thinking that this would be just like any other week, but his mind wouldn’t allow for it. Nothing was going to be as important at this. Timing needed to be there, execution needed to as well. He needed his wind, he needed his muscle, he needed the things he always thought he could rely on, but as the days grew closer, he realized that they may, in fact, fail him if he didn’t keep them up to speed.
All really, the catalyst was his purchase of the Flamingo.
It has given him confidence. The idea of being on the offensive in life and no longer running from what he knew was inescapable. Now, he was going to be in charge of that. No need to run, or hide. If people were coming, he would let them come. If they wanted what he was building, they would have to take it from him. Jack was being extremely bold in how he lived now, but he figured that winning this SCW world championship would do things for him. Would it make all his problems go away? No. Jack wasn’t stupid. He knew that, in fact, more problems would be on the way. But being the champion, would mean success. It would mean an accomplishment he could hang his hat on. It would silence Jack’s bigger doubter: Himself.
Jack was smart enough to know that he could finally say he did it, and he did it on his own. Out of his father’s shadow, away from his watch, and his own personal search for accomplishment. That he had actually done something, and was good enough to be called champion.
But there was no harm in using what got him here, and what his reputation in his home city had branded him. Was he a low-life? Probably. Was he a thug? Maybe. Jack had tried, for some time in his life to avoid all of this. He tried to erase that stigma and essentially go legit. Just make his living and be happy. But he realized there was no escape from that, so why not embrace what everyone things. A thug, a low-life, a criminal, an asshole, a cheater. Yes. Jack was all of that, and then some. Now with the flamingo, Jack had made multiple enemies. And he longer cared. It was now him, against the world. This would be how it would have to be, but he would face them all down and not think twice about it. The Flamingo was the start of bigger and better things. He would rise to the top in more ways than one, and take down his enemies.
Benny knew about the Flamingo, it was only going to be a matter of time before Sonny knew. He didn’t know how much the Mexicans knew, but no doubt, they wanted a piece too. And that was fine with Jack. Jack knew how this life would work, and now he was going to use it. He was becoming more and more life his father, and the sins never would die. Instead, Jack had to wear them, embrace them and become the person people always believed he was.
Things were going to be different, and most likely, rough. But if Jack was able to win the SCW world championship? It would make everything that was about to happen… worth it.
--
The Flamingo Grand Plaza
Las Vegas, NV
It had been a week since Jack’s purchase. He really didn’t know what exactly was going to go in this place. There was a lot of floor space, office space, and really, it was, exactly what Jack needed. Space. A spot away from the confines of the Saxon Hotel. Here, it felt wide open. Not cramped or stuffy. He found what was to him, a place to build. Jack finalized the deal the day after his match with Senor Vinnie. And as soon as the keys were his, he set to work on remodeling the entire building.
He had carved out a corner on the upper floor to make it his place. His office. And despite his past, that actually sounded good to Jack. Something was his. All his. Even if he had opened the flood gates to get that was.
He admired his office, and now he needed a staff. People to run this. It wasn’t much now, but it would later. After everything was done, and the virus was taken care of and there wasn’t a pandemic going on, Jack would be open for business. He had the money to wait. His father had left quite a bit of money, but he had finally touched it. Finally let himself, be himself.
Like a proud father, he watched as his office was constructed. He watched the glass be installed. He watched the office chairs be put in. He the progress. He saw a staff come together. People hired, people put to work. To him, it was almost like a family. And he was proud of that.
Of course, Jack knew that nothing good, ever lasted forever.
He sat at his desk, actually unsure of what he needed to be doing. There wasn’t a business to run just yet, and he really didn’t even know how to run the business. He was really just checking on things, and seeing how the construction was going. But, as always, there was a commotion.
Jack: What the fuck is this now?
Jack’s hired security brought a scruffy looking man towards Jack. His spiked blonde-but-graying hair stood out. An affliction t-shirt and some faded blue jeans, with dark shades. Jack looked at the man, studying him for only a moment before making the realization.
Jack: Brian?
Brian: Hello, Stick.
Brian Washington. Jack’s uncle. Brian was older than Jack’s father. Brian had been the one to steer Jack towards supporting his father and family business since Jack was little. To Jack, Brian was the devil on his shoulder, and he had no angel on the other side. Brian was a shit-stirer in his younger and adult life. But he was pushing his mid ‘50’s now and wasn’t as active. In fact, before everything went down, Brian had left and gone to Florida. But now… there he was, standing in front of Jack.
Jack: Things has changed Brian.
Brian: I know they have, but you will always be Stick to me.
Jack was incredibly skinny as a kid. It wasn’t until high school that he actually began to gain weight and muscle mass. Brian thought it was amusing to simply call him stick, until he gained weight.
There is a moment where Brian sticks his hand out to Jack for a handshake. Jack looks down at it, and he doesn’t shake it right away. He ponders what Brian’s intentions are, but he does indeed shake Brian’s hand. This turns to an embrace. Brian was family. Actual blood. Something that Jack absolutely needed at this point too.
Brian: It’s been a long time. Nice place you got here. What the hell are you doing with it?
Jack: Yeah, it has. And uh… I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet. Where have you been?
Brian: Florida. But I didn’t want to sit around a bunch of old people on a beach waiting to die. I got away from the life. But you know what they say, just when you think you’re out, they pull you back in. And so, I’m back in.
Jack: You don’t need to do that.
Brian: Sure I do, stick. Word travels fast that you’re moving up in the world. Two worlds as a matter of fact. Now, I’m not going to pretend I know anything about wrestling. But I do know about business. I know how to make it work, and I feel like I can help you.
Jack: It’s not necessary. I can handle this.
Brian: Don’t bullshit me, stick. You don’t know anything about the business side of life, you know about the street part. And you know enough to know that you don’t know.
Jack: I can learn.
Brian: That’s why I’m here to help. Look, it’s simple, you let me help you with this place. I came all the way from Florida, and god knows that people are looking for you, and they know you’re here.
Jack: I don’t need protection from the rest of the world, man. They need protection from me.
Brian chuckled at Jack. He shook his head, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
Brian: Brother taught you well, kid. Sometimes you have to talk life by the balls and make it do what you want. But don’t kid yourself and anyone here, you ain’t cut out for the business side. If this was a side hustle, I know you could do it. I watched you do it well. But the thing is, you can’t have life by the balls doing this all the time. You have to know when to take a step back. Some shit, it doesn’t get solved by fists, or guns. Sometimes, you need words.
Jack thought about it, and Brian made a lot of sense. He could concentrate on being in the ring instead of trying to tackle it, and the business he was starting at the same time, dividing his attention, energy, and resources.
Brian: And hey, who better than family, right?
Jack: Family notwithstanding, How do I know I can trust you?
Brian: Me? Stick, come on now. You know me. I haven’t ever steered you wrong, have I?
Jack: Plenty of times. There’s a reason you’re called the Snake.
Brian: Because of the silver tongue. I’m good at diplomacy, Stick. And that’s what you need. Word is you made an old friend very unhappy.
Jack: Benny is a dick. He’s the reason I’m in this place anyway.
Brian: You did it to piss him off, didn’t you?
Jack: I’m tired of running, man. I’m tired of just standing around and hoping my problems will go away. I’m tired of trying to hide who I am, and what I’ve done. The wrestling is my escape from that, but the moment I walk back through the curtain and people tell me good job and all that other shit, I know I’m back to being me. I’m back to being Jack. Back to a shitty past, and back to all the bullshit that comes with it. This is it for me, man. I can be somebody here too.
Brian: And I’ll give you everything you need. Together, we can pick up right where your father left off. Before all the bullshit. Clean slate, Stick. Clean slate.
Jack was deep in thought, and sighed, laying his hands on the table and his head lowering between his shoulders. He looked up and shook Brian’s hand again.
Jack: Clean slate.
Brian: That a boy, Stick. Now, let’s figure out what the hell we’re going to do with this place.
--
Saxon Hotel
Las Vegas, NV
Jack continued to train, continued to put all he could into his match preparation. He ran laps around the hotel. He was more visible than he was at any other time. People wanted interviews, he had to speak. The closer the match drew, the more he had to do. There were radio interviews, podcasts, Zoom and Skype meetings that he had to take part in. He had never been at this level of media hype for anything in his life and he was losing track of what he had to do and where he had to be. Everything was moving so fast, and all Jack really wanted to do was keep a low profile and go about his business. But he was learning quite quickly that being the champion meant that this type of thing would be normal, even in this environment. Everyone would want a piece of you. Jack was beginning to understand what was happening, he would need to figure it out even faster as the hype and anticipation grew.
While Jack was visible more in the hotel, he still kept to himself, and avoided the other wrestlers as much as possible. He needed moments alone and even when his day was done. Night time offered very little solace as well. His room phone rang.
The only person who ever called him on his hotel phone, was Benny.
Jack: Benny.
Benny: You proud of yourself yet?
Jack: I am, Benny. It’s not my fault you didn’t have the funds to make the deal. I did, and that’s just the way it goes. Don’t be bitter.
Benny: I offered you the world, kid, and you turned me down.
Jack: I did. You gonna keep talking in the scary voice, Benny, or are actually going to start a war. Because the way I see it, you got 3 groups to contend, with and not just two, and it looks like you, are in last place. You got nothing.
Benny: There’s a lot more I can do than you right now, ya little prick.
Jack: Benny, be a bookie. That’s what you do. You run numbers and swindle some poor schmucks out of their money. It’s not my fault that this time, you got swindled. Blame yourself for being too slow on the draw.
Benny: You beat me to the punch kid, I’ll give you that. But that ain’t the only property in town.
Jack: You wanna go that route Benny? I’m pretty sure I got more money than you do.
Benny: Maybe, maybe not. You know, I could take a lesson from you old man.
Jack: … Fuck you Benny. I got one over on you. I’m allowing you to stay here and make your living. You don’t have to enter this.
Benny: Fuck you! You think you can tell me what to do?! This is MY City! I took the business out here. You think you’re some kind of hot shot for doing this shit?! You ain’t nothing but a punk kid. You’re just daddy’s boy!
Jack was triggered. His face turned a bright red.
Jack: You don’t mention the old man ever again! You hear me you old cocksucker?! This is young man’s game now, and you need to just step aside, otherwise, you got tossed aside.
Benny: Oh, trust me kid, you got a lot to learn about how business really works around here. You don’t run shit. I have a million ways to take you down. More than you ever dreamed of.
Jack: Is that why you called, Benny? You called to threaten me?
Benny: No, actually, I called to warn you that whatever business you’re thinking about running from the Flamingo, I ain’t the only one who wanted a piece of that property.
Jack: Sucks to be them, and it sucks to be you.
Benny: Nah, kid, you got it all wrong. It’s going to really suck to be you. I will make sure that shit never gets off the ground! You understand that!? I will make sure shit never goes right for you ever again. I will put you back on the fucking streets, living out of a goddamn car! You will BEG me to cut you in on this shit!
Jack: No, Benny. I’m not. Not ever again. You wanna try some shit, try it. All this shit is being recorded you fucking clown. Don’t come at me Benny. I tried to stay out of your way, and you better stay out of mine.
Benny: Too late, kid. Too late.
Jack: What?
There was the audible click on the other end and Jack knew that something was about to go down. He had to figure out what it was. And there was only one thing Benny would come for…
--
The Flamingo Grand Plaza
Las Vegas, NV
Jack had to make it look like he wasn’t rushing to leave when he left, hurrying over to the Flamingo as fast as he could. Jack pulled towards the building, and found several cars lined up outside. The cars were filled with people, however, no one made a move. Jack creeped towards the door, his security guards were armed, and prepared for war.
Guard: On your word, Mr. Washington.
Jack: Don’t… don’t do a thing until I tell you.
Jack hurried to the office, where Brian was there, leaning back in the chair, nodding at Jack.
Brian: Fine mess you got us into, Stick.
Jack: It was FUCKING BENNY. He set us up for a god damn war!
Brian: Looks that way.
Jack: Fuck… who are these people?
Brian: Don’t know. But there’s a lot of them.
Jack: What do we do?
Brian: That depends.
Jack looked at Brian like he had three heads. He was playing games when this was a serious situation.
Jack: The fuck is that supposed to mean?
Brian: Well, it depends on what you want to do. You can have this fight, or you can see what the problem is to begin with. All depends on if you want more blood on your hands or not.
Jack shook his head and sighed. He knew, despite his calm demeanor, that Brian had a good point. This was Jack’s first real test. His street mentality always told him to never let anyone intimidate you, show your strength. But this wasn’t the streets situation. It could devolve into that, but it didn’t need to. Jack calmly straightened his jacket and walked back outside where Bobby was waiting for him.
Bobby: Yo, Jack, this is serious shit man!
Jack: I know.
Jack marched past Bobby and towards the cars parked near the entrance. Car doors opened. Many men, weapons in clear view were standing there. Masks over their faces, hiding their identities. Jack raised his arms, trying to be as calm as possible.
Jack: Gentlemen… I know that right now we’re sitting on a powder keg. I don’t want trouble and I don’t think you do either. Whatever the issue is… we can discuss it, like adults.
There were murmurs between the men, until finally one went to a nicer car. The window was rolled down he spoke to whomever was in the back seat. Jack overheard some Spanish. He knew it was the Mexicans. There was a moment of tense silence, and then the nicer car’s back door opened, and a tall woman, in a red hat and black coat exited. Mask over her face as well. She was flanked by two body guards and another man in a nice suit. They walked forward and met Jack.
Jack: I’m sure we can clear up this misunderstanding. We don’t need people getting hurt. Please… come to my office.
Jack motioned for the two, and the guards to follow him.
Jack: Security, stand down.
Jack’s security took a step back, allowing everyone passage through. Jack led them to the elevator, and it was an intense tension-filled ride. The elevator now seemed to take forever to reach Jack’s office, where the four representing the Mexicans were brought in. Two chair were pulled up, and the bodyguard followed into the office. Jack walked around his desk and sat down. Brian was off in the corner, observing.
Jack: Well, is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee?
The two silently shake their heads.
Jack: Well, I take it you guys are the Mexicans.
The woman puts her hand up to stop Jack, turning to her male counterpart and shaking her head.
Woman: You are new at this, si?
Jack: A bit, yes.
Woman: They call us, the Mexicans si. My name is Ana Sofia Medina. This is my husband, Ernesto.
Jack: Pleasure. I’m Jack. Now, what can I do for you?
Ana Sofia:We hear you are making this place into something.
Jack: You heard right.
Ana Sofia: But we also hear you would push los drogas out of this place as well.
Jack: Excuse me?
Ana Sofia: Your friend, this Benny, he spreads word you move in on our business with this business.
Jack: I’m not moving in on anybody’s business, Mrs. Medina. I’m here to do my own thing.
Ana Sofia: Then this Benny is a lair?
Jack: I’m afraid he got you all worked up for nothing. I don’t want to do what you do. I don’t need my people, or your people, getting hurt, when there’s clearly, bigger things going on.
Ana Sofia leaned back in her chair. She leaned over and whispered to Ernesto, who silently nodded.
Ana Sofia: Well then. We will have to deal with this Benny. He is your friend?
Jack: No, he isn’t. Benny is small time. He only wants to be big.
Ana Sofia: Hmmm… My people, they say you see the Sonny man too.
Jack: Sonny? No. I don’t have any dealings with Sonny. I met him, yes. He offered me work, and I turned it down. I want to do this on my own.
Ana Sofia nodded.
Ana Sofia: Perhaps then… we can do business, Mr. Jack.
Jack: What kind of business?
Ana Sofia: You help us, we help you.
Jack: What kind of help, do you want?
Ana Sofia: This place. It would be good for our product. We can move it from here.
Jack: Oh.
Ana Sofia: We can give you 20% for letting my people store it here. You have to do nothing but provide this place to use. You say you wish to make the money… we can make you… el rey.
Jack nodded, folding his hands on the desk. Brian finally moved to interject. He tapped Jack on the shoulder to pull him back.
Jack: Excuse me one moment.
Jack and Brian backed up away from anyone listening.
Brian: I don’t think it’s a good idea.
Jack: Do you want to have a war, then? We can’t just disrespect them.
Brian: Use your head, Stick. They need you, for a reason. They’re hot. And they want security. But you can’t be part of it. Not you.
Jack: You wanna take this over then?
Brian: No. But you don’t even have anything here. The business needs to start first.
Jack thought about it. Brian made sense. He nodded, pacing a couple of seconds before sitting back down at the desk, clearing his throat.
Jack: Mrs. Medina, while that sounds good, we don’t even have anything yet. This is just a piece of property that we haven’t done anything with yet. It’s a work in progress. Now, while I could take this… very generous offer, I can’t offer the privacy that you would need. There’s going to be a lot of people in and out around here. A lot of people who may not be on board with what you want to do. And then, that makes problems for all of us. And nobody wants that. Not me, and least of all, you. So, let me say this. Give me some time. Let me get this to good spot, and then, we can talk again. Maybe we can work something out. I don’t want you, or your business, to have any trouble. I just want both of us to be secure.
Ana Sofia turned and whispered again to her husband. He stood up, helping Ana Sofia out of her chair.
Ana Sofia: This is progress, I think. We will return at a different time, and then… we will make a deal, si?
Jack: I certainly hope so.
Ana Sofia tossed her business card in front of Jack.
Ana Sofia: We will speak again.
Ana Sofia snapped her fingers and they entourage soon departed. Jack watched from the office as the men all piled back in their cars and drove away. Jack let out a sigh of relief before Brian patted him on the back.
Brian: Ya did good, Stick. Now, the real question is, how you going to convince her to move elsewhere?
Jack: What do you mean?
Brian: You bought time. And soon enough, she will be back, and I don’t think she’s going to take no for an answer the next time. And you know damn well you can’t have that shit around you given what you’re doing now.
Jack: I’ll figure something out. I have some time.
Brian: The only question is… how much?
Jack: I don’t know. But I know I bought some time. I’ll have to think about it, but for now, I think we averted disaster.
Brian: For now, yeah. Not bad for your first time, Stick. Not bad at all. Just understand the world you are about to get into. It’s only gonna end a few ways.
Jack: Maybe I can change that.
Brian: I wouldn’t count on it if I were you. While I respect what you want to do with this shit, the point I’m trying to make here is that… when all was said and done, your old man, my brother… he died alone, with nobody around him. No family, no friends, no priest, nothing. He died alone, because of what he got himself into and how he played the game. If you keep playing it that way, it’s how you’re going to end up.
Jack closed his eyes and his head lowered. He knew that Brian was correct that for everything his father did for everyone he came into contact with, he was reviled at the time of his death. No one was sorry to see his father go. He had ruined a good thing, and left them to pick up the pieces, because of his choices. He was the one that left Jack basically in the up and down world he’s in now, with the enemies, still holding the grudge. And yet, he had the money. Was it worth him dying alone like that? Would it be Jack’s fate too?
Jack: My father, your brother, did what he thought he could do to help me. Maybe it was right, maybe it wasn’t. That, I can’t tell you. What I do know, is that this is life, and we have to make of it what we can. I ain’t an angel, but then again, who the fuck is, right? My father tried to leave it a little better than he left it. Did he? Dunno. Made a lot of mother fucker’s rich. Maybe that was his mistake. But I can be different. Maybe not much, but I can make my own mark.
Brian: Shit’s cutthroat. I hope you’re ready for that.
Jack: As much as I can be. This wrestling thing is pretty cutthroat too.
Jack checked his watch.
Jack: Shit, I gotta get back. I have to get this work in for the match.
Brian: You do what you gotta do, Stick. I’ll keep the seat warm for ya.
Jack just shook his head and departed. He headed back to the hotel. He needed to check in, and resume the training. He had a title match to win.
--
Saxon Hotel
Las Vegas, NV
He sat alone in his hotel room. The lights off, the only glare from a computer monitor his only light source. He watched the videos of Ben Jordan in the ring. Anything and everything he could find. He took meticulous notes. Old school, pen and paper. He had to know everything he could about Ben Jordan, so that at the end of the day, no stone was left unturned. He wanted no surprises, nothing to be left to be exposed. He wasn’t going to be taken advantage of because of something he missed. His eyes were thin slits he was focusing so hard. He would not take a break, except to eat. Maybe.
It was only a text from Bobby that would break him of the cycle. Jack had to get a new phone, and only Bobby had the number. This was another way to test Bobby. If some other people started calling him, then he would know that Bobby wasn’t a true as he said he was. And if texts came his way from Bobby, Bobby had something important to say.
Yo. I’m outside.
Jack was now annoyed. Bobby knew better than to just text him stupid things like that. Though, it was always a rule to not discuss things over text or email or really even the phone. Face to face ensured that the message would be delivered properly and it got to the right people.
Jack looked over at his laptop after checking the phone. He paused the video of Ben and exited the room with his key. He walked down to the elevator, hat on his head to avoid too much recognition. He walked outside the hotel, and met Bobby by the fence, in their usual spot.
Jack: What is it?
Bobby: I’m just seeing how you’re doing man. Things are fucking intense these past few days, and you know, just… checking on my friend.
Jack: Really?
Bobby: Yeah man. I figure it’s gotta be intense with the Mexicans and your uncle and Benny, and not to mention that you got a big match this week and all that. Gotta be weighing you down.
Jack: I’ll manage.
Bobby: I’m just saying bro, sometimes you gotta just chill out. You know? Take a break or stress will get to you.
Jack: You know, that’s good advice. Maybe I do need to chill. This shit is getting to me.
Bobby: For real, I mean, cooped up in there having to train, then coming out here and people trying to fuck with you, I don’t know how you made this far, my dude.
Jack: My motivation has always been internal man. I’ve been trying to do something like this for years. Something for me. Something I can call my own, you know? Not have to live in the old man’s shadow, or let anybody say that it was my dad that made sure I can do this or that. I need to do this shit, for me, and me alone.
Bobby: I feel that. But bruh, I can look at your face and I can tell you, you’re cooked. You need to chill out, get away from all this shit before it becomes the worst part of you. I mean, back in the day we didn’t run the streets every night, we didn’t look out for the po-po and just bomb out every night. We needed a break. Hell, even when he got offered the shit we didn’t always take it. You know what I’m saying?
Jack: Yeah, I do. But this shit is important, man. This is my shot, I gotta make this shit count. I can’t be going out there and getting embarrassed by the champ.
Bobby pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up. He took a long drag and inhaled. He released, and nodded.
Bobby: Sometimes, you just gotta say “fuck it”, my dude.
Jack: What?
Bobby: Sometimes, you just gotta say “Fuck it” Like just, “fuck all that other shit, I’m doing this right now. Everything else can wait. Bro you have had a whirlwind of shit coming at you. You don’t even talk about it no more. It used to be that when they wanted to talk to you that you used to tell me. Now it’s like every day you’re just used to it. You’ve become like a robot or some shit.
Jack turned away, looking into the distance as Bobby took another drag.
Bobby: I mean, I get this shit is important, and you can do something really special and all that, but you can’t let that shit just turn you into a zombie. Don’t get… what’s that shit from like Star wars… nah, Star Trek?
Jack: I don’t know.
Bobby: It had them robot dudes that like, turned you into one of them.
Jack: I know you what you mean.
Bobby: But, for real. That ain’t you, man. So, that why I say, you gotta just say “fuck it.”
Bobby shrugs and continues to smoke. Jack actually takes Bobby’s words into account and thinks. He was pushing himself, and maybe too hard, but that was the only way he really know how to attack anything He knew to hit it full speed, and as hard as he could. But as he learned with Brian, sometimes you have to take a step back and figure things out different. A different way.
Jack: You know, I appreciate you saying that. I think you’re right. Sometimes, you just gotta say… “Fuck it.”
Bobby: Feels good, right? Feels good to just all that shit?
Jack: It does. I need to let off some steam, finally just chill for a little bit. I think I’ve earned it after the week I’ve had.
Bobby: For real. I mean, not for nothing Jack, but bruh, I thought we were about to go to war with them Mexicans. They are deep.
Jack: They are. But there was another way.
Bobby: Thank god for that man. I mean, I’m ready to go to war if he have to, but I don’t want to.
Jack: Neither do I, man. But let’s not worry about that anymore. That’s taken care off, training will take care of itself. I think we just need to chill.
Bobby smiles, the two slap each other up.
Bobby: That’s what I’m talking about, bro. What are we doing?
Jack leans back and thinks a little more. A small smile crosses his face as he looks at Bobby.
Jack: Let’s go shopping. I got some things I need…
Bobby: Right on.
Jack and Bobby head off to let off some steam. Jack clearly had an idea… he leaves us in wonder what exactly it is.
--
On Camera
Click.
We’re outside for a change. Jack has his back to the camera, a black hooded sweatshirt, jeans and a Philadelphia Eagles cap on backwards.
Jack: So here we are. Only days away from the biggest match of my life. And here I am, totally ready. For one of the few times in my entire life, I feel ready for anything that’s about to come my way. Life if full of surprises, and I surprised the world when I won, but what shouldn’t have shocked anybody is that I’m doing what I said I was going to do. I made that card because they told me I had to. People are just in any old matches I threw together, and they are complaining. And I don’t give a shit. It’s not different from any other week for everybody else. As it should be. You’re in a match, stop fucking whining about what I said about you. It’s really just the truth, and a lot of the time the truth hurts. If you’re surprised by it, big deal. But there is one person who shouldn’t be surprised at all. One person who should have known this was coming.
Ben Jordan.
Yeah, what’s happening Ben Jordan? You know, I could get used this whole winning thing. I don’t know if you heard, or you’ve seen me lately, but I’ve done a little splurging after I won King for a Day. It’s not like me, but you know, I feel like I’ve earned it. I fought and scratched and clawed my way to victory for this moment. For what’s in front of me right now. The chance of a lifetime. A chance to dance with the champ. It’s what I said I was going to do, and I made my dream a reality. And now, the clock is ticking. The clock will strike midnight for one of us on Sunday, Ben. So in effort to really seize the moment, I did some spending, I bought some things.
Jack slowly turns around, and we can see a replica SCW world championship cradled in his arms.
Jack: I know this is good for a laugh from you, right Ben? This silly championship. It’s fake. It’s not real at all. It’s just not the genuine article. I know you’re looking at it, and wondering what the hell I bought a toy for. Well, it’s funny, to be honest, I bought this championship, just to see how it looked. I was like a small child. I wrapped this thing around my waist. I tossed it over my shoulder. I marched around in my room, blasting my own theme song and I envisioned the looks on all the people’s faces when I held this damn thing over my head. It was something I did, to amuse myself, and get a feel for what it would be like.
But then a funny thing happened, Ben. This championship looked great around my waist. It fit perfectly. It looked natural to have this over my shoulder. I checked myself out in the mirror holding it up and it just looked right. So man, I got caught up in the moment. It wasn’t something to amuse myself anyone. I became drunk on the exhilaration. That all felt so good. I mean, I had goosebumps up and down my arms, it felt like lightning shooting through my body man. Up and down my back, it was everywhere. And then I took this toy, and I cradled it like I am now. I laid the thing down and I slept, leaving it sitting there, so when I woke up and looked over, it would be there. And when I woke up, I picked this toy up again, and that feeling, it wasn’t there anymore.
So, I looked at it, after all that feeling didn’t happen… I did exactly, what I’m going to do right now.
With that, Jack tosses the fake championship away, like it was garbage.
Jack: It’s not doing it for me anymore Ben. Not cutting it. I don’t need to play with the toy anymore. It’s not working. I need something…stronger. I’m like a junkie now, Ben. I can’t get enough of that feeling I had that first night. I need my fix. I need that feeling shot into my god damn veins, man. It was euphoric and I need to feel that again. And there’s only one thing that will give that to me. Nothing but the real deal will do the trick, Ben. I want what you have. I want the actual SCW heavyweight championship. The real one. I want that. And I’m jonesing for it, man. I need to have it. So I have to take it from you. It’s not personal, you could be anybody Ben. I just need to get mine.
Now, I’ve been straight up with you from the jump. I told you, and Mark Cross, that if I won, I was making this match happen. I told both of you that all that matters to me, is getting a shot at that championship. And I won, Ben. And so did you. So from the end of May, you have plenty of warning this was coming. There shouldn’t be any excuses. I’m not about to make any excuses, or apologies. I’m just going to continue to be honest with you.
I’m not O’Malley. I don’t have any problem with how I do things or how I attain things. So while you can shame O’Malley because he did X or Y and didn’t beat you fairly and he came in like a thief and stole your SCU championship, I’ll tell you now, I would have done the exact same thing if winning the briefcase meant I could. Wouldn’t have thought twice about it, either. I am out for mine. To me, the end completely justifies the means. I don’t have any reservations about the how’s and whys. This, to me, is about results. And then end result I want, is beating you and taking your championship.
Jack casually shrugs.
Jack: But as they say, “A goal, without a plan, is just a wish.” I heard that from a former Eagles player and NFL head coach Herm Edwards. You should look him up. He can give some damn motivating speeches. But that quote, it really got to me. It struck a chord with me. I’ve had goals and dreams all my life, but the plan, that hasn’t always been there. I wanted to be an astronaut as a kid, Ben. But I didn’t have a plan. I wanted to be rich and famous, but at that point, I didn’t have a plan. Sure, I have money, I have possessions, I’m doing pretty damn well for myself and obviously, you are too. You have that championship. It makes you a success. Now, my goal is to take it from you. And my plan… is simple.
I’m going to do, whatever I have to do to win.
You may think I’m stupid for telling you my plan, or cocky or arrogant for saying it here and now. I don’t care. I shoot straight my man. I will tell you, like it is. I told you this match was coming. I made it happen. So now, the next part, the hard part is beating you. I’m not stupid. I know you’re the best in the company right now. At least on paper. You have the title to prove it. So I know, I have to do anything and everything to beat you. So, if I have to gouge your eyes, fishhook your face, choke you, hit you from behind, pull your hair, pull your tights, or bite you, I will do it. If I have to kick you square in your nuts behind the referee’s back I’ll do it. If I have to take a chair, the steps, the post, doesn’t matter. Hell, if I have to take your championship, from the timekeeper, and take it upside your god damn head, I will do it.
And I will do it, with a smile on my face.
No shame, no remorse. I will sleep like a mother fuckin’ baby that night Ben. You can take that to the bank.
Jack actually smirks a tiny bit, but his face does turn back to the scowl he’s worn most of his life.
Jack: I consider that, a nod of respect to you Ben, you may not think so, but it is. I know I have a fight on my hands on Sunday. But, things lately, have me wondering if you feel the same. Because I’m just saying, it’s not like you have been saying my name or mentioning me lately. You aren’t talking about me. You’re more concerned with talking about wrestling Kris Ryans or day drinking with your wife. You ain’t slick mother fucker. I see how it is. You’ve known this match was coming and you’re choosing to ignore me like I don’t exist. I’m just out here, getting disrespected. I’m just a fly on your shirt, is that it? Okay, I see how we’re playing this, Ben.
You think I’m just some punk kid that you can take lightly. Like I’m just some scrub that fluked his way into this match. You don’t even have the balls to say it out loud, so you just ignore me. That is the most disrespectful shit I can think of. That is more disrespectful to me as man, than anything that will ever come out of the Cockney hole on your face.
I mean, I tell you I’m making this match if I win. Nothing.
I win. Nothing.
I come out and tell you in front of the viewing world that this is happening. Nothing.
I give you the finger. Nothing.
Your silence, speaks volumes, Ben. You have cut me to my core, without a single word. So now, not only are you holding what I’m craving, not only are you dangling it in front of me to taunt me, you’re acting like I’m not even there, man. So if that’s how we’re doing it, cool. I’m all for it. You have given me all the more motivation to take you down. You’re making me feel it necessary to really hurt you, to drive the point home. You really are about to just sit there and wait until it’s time and trash talk me and then, that’s it, right? You aren’t going to give me the same respect I’m giving you.
You think you’re better than me Ben? You think you don’t need to worry about me? You think that this is just another chance to show how great you are and treat me like I don’t matter? YOU’RE NOT BETTER THAN ME BEN?! You give me that superior British bullshit attitude like I’m a punk? You take that attitude and stick it up your ass because all you’re doing is pissing me off. And let me tell you something Ben Jordan: That is a dangerous combination.
You don’t ignore someone like me, Ben. I’ll fuck up any plans you have. I’ve got the talent, skill, and motivation to make me the single most dangerous opponent you will have ever faced in the ring. You may have had wars with many wrestlers, and that’s all well and good, but right now, I am here, and in your personal space two middle fingers right in your face. I’m hungry, and I’m driven. Money, power, wealth, fame, fortune, I want it all. And I am willing to do whatever it takes to get it. And you, are ignoring me. So you have to face the consequences for that choice. I’m not like anybody else Ben, you may think I am, you may think you’ve seen people like me come and go, but you haven’t. I am not trying to have a debate, or civil conversation about the match. This isn’t really a point-counter point thing. You’re the champ, you’re the good guy, and I, for this match, will play the bad guy. I’m the guy in the movie that pushes an old lady down and kicks a dog to make sure you know who I am. But you don’t want to listen, do you? Nah, it’s all good for Ben Jordan. Well, let me introduce myself then, I’m Jack. I’m not just going to rain on your parade, I’m gonna be a god damn thunderstorm. I am heading into this match on Sunday to do things to you that in any other profession on this planet, would put me back in jail! That’s my mentality after this shit!
Jack has begun pacing angrily, he’s so riled up, heavy stomps, almost like a child. Finally, after a few seconds, he calms himself down just enough to continue.
Jack: This may be some typical Sunday for you, but it ain’t like that for me. It my entire world. I am consumed by it. It why I bought some of the things I bought during my splurge after becoming the king.
Jack tosses his hat aside and takes off the hoodie to reveal a Ben Jordan “square letter” t-shirt.
Jack: Yeah, I bought this t-shirt. I wanted to see what it felt like to wear a shirt you’ve worn. To be a man respected by so many, with a wife and little dog or whatever the fuck. I tried it out in the mirror too. Just trying to be Ben Jordan. But then I realized that I have no desire to be like you. I don’t want to have anything to do with you Ben. So, you may call it a waste of money but, I don’t give a damn.
With that, Jack tears the shirt off of himself, shredding the shirt and tossing it aside, now in his black “A shirt” instead.
Jack: Since you don’t want to respect me, I don’t need to respect you. I don’t need to wear this bullshit merchandise. I don’t need to respect anything you’ve done or anything you will ever do. But you know, that’s not all I bought, Ben. Nah, I bought some more stuff.
Jack walks forward, and on the luggage rack from the hotel itself, Jack has several fancy, and highly expensive clothes on the racks, some tailored and draped in plastic. Designer clothing to be sure.
Jack: I bought all this. This cost a lot of money. We have some really fancy, high dollar shit here Ben. Who made this coat? Let’s see… Givenchy? Yeah, what’s this price tag say? 3 grand, Ben. 3 grand for this jacket. What about this polo? Gucci? $700. What about this? Valentino, $700 as well. This is expensive shit. We got some shoes down here… Alexander McQueen. $1200 large. We’ve got a Gucci belt? $500. I’ve bought a lot of expensive stuff, and you know why I did it? Because I can. But also to make sure that you understand where I’m coming from Ben.
I got all this right there, all this money I spent up, and you know what any of it means to me? Nothing. Not a damn thing. All I care about right now, is that championship you have around your waist. All this shit here? The belts, the shirts, the pants, the shoes, all of it just fucking props. As useless to me as a screen door on a submarine. I don’t need any of this shit. All I want is what you have. Because all of this shit right here? It can be replaced. I can buy it all again if I wanted to. In fact, I can do it after I beat you. But if you don’t believe me, let me make it perfectly clear to you, Ben.
Jack begins violently ripping the clothing off the rack, tossing it on the ground, before pulling out his pocket knife and cutting into the clothes, ripping and shredding them like a lunatic. Holes are ripped, belts cut, shoes ruined. There is just material, expensive material going everywhere. Jack finally stops, with all the clothing torn to pieces.
Jack: Do you get it now, Ben? Do you fully understand what you have done, and what I’m aiming to do? I don’t care about these possessions. I don’t care about the money I spent because I know that by beating you, I can get more. I can get that championship money. I can spend the money three times over as a champion. I can do so much more as the champion. And I’m hungry for it man. I am more than ready for this match. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of ever since I set foot in this company. I got this far, and I will be damned if I’m going to take it easy now. I’ve made it my mission to run rough shot through this company, and its wrestlers, like a hot knife through fucking butter. And now I’m here. Now I get what I want, and there is not stopping me, and nothing I won’t do.
This is it for me, Ben. I arrived at this point probably faster than anybody, including you, could have possibly imagined. I earned this match and you can bet your ass that I am pulling out all stops. Yeah, I may get another championship match in the future, but I’m not… how would you put it… a “wait and see” type of person. I’m a “here and now” type. I got this match, I ain’t about to let it go to waste by taking this match as serious at a heart attack. Because I got big plans for that championship. No more sitting in the hotel room like a schmuck. No more being like everybody else and waiting and hoping for an opportunity. No, that’s not me anymore, Ben. This briefcase offered me a chance of a lifetime. I’m not about to let it go to waste. You will get everything I have Ben, I will kick your ass and take your title because I have this opportunity right now. I want you at your best, I want you to stand across from me on Sunday as the best Ben Jordan possible. I want that feeling of knowing I beat you at your best. I want you to get up every single time I knock you down because you can bet your ass I’m going to knock you down. And if you want to take your time getting up, I will kick you square in the ass to make sure you get up. I want to beat you so badly that everyone that doubts me, and everyone who still thinks that I am a fluke or a flash in the pan to be in shock and to cheer for you. I want them to give you the resolve to fight on over and over until I beat you until you can’t physically get up without assistance. I want them to cheer for you and feel that feeling of disappointment when you lose. You need them to do that for you. I don’t. My motivation comes from within. You can say it’s selfish, and you’d be 100% correct. That changes nothing. Cheer, boo, whatever. It doesn’t matter to me. All that matter is that I get what I want.
Hell, Even if you don’t do that, even if I barely scrape by and take your title, it won’t change the result. An inch or a mile, Ben. Don’t care about how it gets done. All that anyone is going to remember about July 5th, is that I beat you. By hook, or by crook Ben, you’ve heard me say it a bunch of times. It will never be truer than it will be on the 5th.
Jack gives us a silent stare, panning back to the debris all around him.
Jack: Take a good look Ben. All this… will be nothing compared to what happens on Sunday.
Jack makes the “belt” motion at his waist.
Jack: I’m coming for you Ben. You are ALL looking, at the next SCW World heavyweight champion.
Jack leaves us with a silent stare. We fades.
Click.
Watch. This. Space.
