London, England is home to the most recognizable clock in the world. Big Ben stands 316 feet tall with a 23 foot face. The time is shown on the face via a short and long arm that measure 9 and 14 feet respectively. Right now, the short arm is slightly past the spot that represents 7. The long arm is pointing at the 2 position. The morning sun reflects off of Big Ben’s face onto the street below. There are a few people on the street. Some of them are jogging. Some of them are on their way to work. Others, look like they’re just making their way home from a long night of drinking. Our focus is on one of the joggers. Taking his usual morning jog, SCW Superstar Tom Dudely is just making his way past Big Ben. He is wearing some blue basketball shorts and a matching tank top shirt. On his arm is a black armband with the Nike swoop prominently displayed. An Ipod is tucked into the armband with ear buds extending to Tom’s ears. The music that is blaring from into Tom’s ears is being ignored as Tom has other things on his mind this morning. As his feet continue to hit the sidewalk, Tom thinks to himself.
Tom: My favorite city in the world. I could get into a lot of trouble here. Should I go get drunk at one of the local pubs?
Tom smiles and shakes his head.
Tom: Nah. Last time I did that, I woke up in Paris with a bunch of soccer hooligans. Maybe I’ll just stick to the sight-seeing. I could go check out Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus, maybe I could even head up to Abbey Road and recreate the Beatles record cover.
Tom ponders it for a moment before shaking his head again.
Tom: Nah. I’m in the mood to get into a bit of trouble. The last couple of weeks haven’t been as awesome as I would have liked. Two weeks ago, losing to Rage in the Knockout Tournament was more of a blow than I’d thought it would be. I didn’t think I really wanted to SCW Championship since I’m going back into retirement in a month or so, but now that I can’t have it, I want it. I think that was a Freud thing. I’m sure something about penis envy can be found in that.
Another smile creeps to the corners of Tom’s mouth. He looks around at the other people on the street.
Tom: I wonder if everyone’s minds wander from subject to subject like mine. I’m not even sure what made Sigmund Freud pop into my mind.
Tom turns a corner and continues to jog.
Tom: Last week wasn’t as bad as the week before, but I couldn’t help but wish it was me in the finals of the tournament against Goth. It would have been a better match that way. The fans didn’t really care whether Rage or Goth won. It wasn’t even a good match. If it was me and Rage though, at least there would have been some star power. The fans would have actually had someone to root for.
Tom takes a left turn around another corner.
Tom: What’s done is done though. Now, Rage gets to take on Nick Jones for the strap instead of me, and I get the scraps. I probably shouldn’t discount Goth. I’ve heard good things about him from Gabriel. I mean, he can’t be too bad anyway if he made it to the finals of the Knockout Tournament, right? Oh well, I’ll just go about it the same way I do every match. The fire I feel when the crowd chants my name gives me enough strength to win any match. This one won’t be any different.
Tom slows down to a fast walk. His pace eventually slows to a leisurely stroll. Tom reaches his destination, The Sanctuary House Hotel, and paces back and forth in front of it a few times. He comes to a stop and bends down to touch his toes. Upon returning to a standing position, Tom clasps his hands together over his head and bends his body to the left and then the right. Once finished with his stretching, Tom pulls the ear buds out of his ears and tucks them into the armband. Tom walks into the hotel as the scene fades.
