Part 1 - Living Nightmare

Aside from the ringing, no other noise was getting through to my ears, it was like I was underwater, but deep underwater, not like I’d just dunked my head under. The room span slowly, randomly, but definitely in a constant state of movement each dimly lit light bulb appearing three, sometimes four times over.

This wasn't a sprung-floored, wrestling ring I’d hit, but a rock hard concrete floor. There were no ropes, just padded walls, plus one badly-stained mattress that had been nailed in place when the occupant of the room had no doubt ripped away what was there before. I’d been hit with what had loosely resembled a wrestling move, but I hadn't expected the early release, the angle I'd be heading to ground at. Head and neck bounced when it should have been back and shoulders. There was no referee to get me out of there...my only company being my opponent, teeth blackening and mis-shapen, cackling maniacally as he stared up at one of the cameras, the whirring it made as it panned the room attracting his attention momentarily.

It was called The Institute...an already ominous name with an even more sinister concept to go along with it. Only in Russia, right? From what I gathered, a business tycoon with morals even looser than his pockets were deep had purchased a run-down old mental asylum, inheriting the remaining inmates as part of the deal, and proceeded to put them in against boxers, MMA fighters and pro wrestlers alike, streaming the action on the Internet pay-per-view style. It was dark, brutal, very very illegal, and at a time when very few were brave enough to speak up or speak out when it came to matters of mental health.

Wrestling moves go "wrong" of course, by that I mean not how the coaching manual tells you they should, and as a decade in the sport has taught me, happens far more regularly than you would expect. In reality, dropping an opponent neck-first is a quite effective way of getting the W in a match, and one of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt over the years is the importance of good body control, for my own self-preservation more than anything. When this “match” took place, I hadn’t been to Japan, maybe a year before I still carried a football as a career. My game plan back then was to go in, take a beating, hope the other guy gets tired, then try and work something from there. It was utilising my strengths from football, my ability to take a hammering while trying to cover up my weakness - my wrestling ability. All of it. I didn’t adapt to this situation like I would do now.

So you might ask, why did my team send me there in the first place, and why did I let them? Simple - It meant more money for one fight than whole tours were bringing in. The NFL made me a multi-millionaire, I didn’t need the money, I could have quit anytime...but the guys who were in my corner? They knew the ex-football gimmick had a very short shelf-life if I didn’t start improving my work in the ring. They’d take every payday they could get. I wanted to do right by them for believing in me, so I put myself in there and hoped for the best.

As the room came back into focus, and reality set in, my head throbbed like a bad hangover. My vision was still a little fuzzy around the edges, but normal sound service had resumed, it was like I’d lifted my head out of the bathtub. The laughing had stopped, but I felt a hot breath on my face. He...it...was right there, squatting like a frog, examining me. It’s face against mine. I could see the whites...no...the bloodshot red eyes, the pupils as wide as saucers. I pushed away, climbing to my feet, they were shaky under me and I staggered straight back, smacking into the padding of the wall. It was then I heard it for the first time, the laugh, it sent shivers down my spine and every hair on my body stood to attention. Still moving on all fours it stalked me, I willed my punch-drunk legs to move and they did, clumsily, this time almost hitting the ground again, a hand on the cold floor guiding me back up to standing. I tried to bounce on my feet, like I’d learnt with the boxing trainer I’d been working with back in Florida, but I almost toppled forwards, the movement throwing me instantly off-balance.

Instead I gave myself a few more moments, watched and waited, he smacked off the wall, still walking on knuckles as he rounded to face me again. He faked a lunge, I flinched, which turned out to need  about three or four steps to right myself. He laughed again, faked again, I wondered if really he was as out of it as he seemed as this time I corrected myself in two steps. The laugh turned into a shriek, he pushed off like a sprinter out of the blocks and ran at me, this time on two legs, and at speed. I waited as long as I could, sidestepped, my legs cooperated, he hit the wall at full tilt and I was off in pursuit, charging at my opponent like I was running at a Cornerback headed for a pick-six, connecting with a spear that sent us both sprawling for the concrete.

The laughter continued unabated, as if the whole thing was just a game, cackling away even after my first elbow connected with skull. Then the second. Then the third. After the fourth, finally that goddamn sound stopped. Six...seven...sweet silence...eight...the frantic turning of a key...nine...the squealing of a heavy metal door against the ground as it was flung open by two men. Ten...stopped in mid-air by the mountain of a man that dragged Mark off and flung him like a ragdoll out into the corridor.

The Dragon: Get me out of this country right fucking now.

Andy: Is he erm...gonna be OK?

The man dressed in glasses and a suit, looking to be in his late twenties, peered back into the room, craning his neck to try and see what’s going on with the medical personnel that had poured into the room in front of him. An older man, with slightly greying hair moved to pull him away as their charge had already stormed off down the corridor.

Octane: Andy...come on…

Andy: Mark could have killed him, what about our money?

Octane: Fuck the goddamn money man! That thing coulda killed our boy man, he’s got a wife! Just come on, we gotta get on the first flight outta here, especially if he has

Andy hears the sound of defibrillator paddles charging up from inside the room, paired with the sound of animated voices speaking in unintelligible Russian.

Andy: Probably a good idea…

We see the pair turn tail and scurry off down the corridor, leaving the drama to unfold.

Part 2 - Taking Stock

We are taken to a kitchen. We don’t know where this kitchen is, but it’s in a location we haven’t seen on camera before. The decoration makes it appear like a pretty modern building. Standing in the centre of the shot is Mark “The Dragon” Cross, armed with coffee in hand.

I just want you all to know that for all the backstage shenanigans, which I admit have been kicking up to high gear lately, I’m still deadly serious about this sport. I have been consistently since I left Japan for the first time, finally safe in the knowledge that I had the technical capability to make a success of this. My attempts to be funny, whether you like them or not? A chance to let off steam after spending the week leading up to a match watching old footage, seeing the same four walls of my gym as I work bloody hard, give it my all, only to head back to an empty house where I have all the time in the world to come up with fresh, new ideas to ruin Mikah’s Sunday, or at least make it just a little more challenging for her, before getting up and doing it all again the next day. Talking of challenges...

Mark took a sip from his mug.

Go back 18 months, I had my star student Faith in the gym every day, she's now touring Japan. I was working alongside Leon "Octane" McKane daily, who's been part of my team since my first minute in this business, now running our second gym full-time out in New Orleans. My accountant Andy, who would regularly come along for the ride, now under instructions to stay in England after encroaching too far into my personal affairs...and I had my now ex-wife waiting for me at home. What happened there? Well you know what ‘ex’ means right? I’m not telling you this because my life sucks - I don’t suffer from loneliness. In fact, I really enjoy my own company. I think I’m hilarious, even if it’s becoming clear that an increasing number of others don’t feel quite the same about me. I also crave my own space sometimes, and I’d feel crowded having all these people around me, even if they felt more like family. As for the training...well you know they say “is it really work when you’re doing something you love?” Well yes,  and the day I never have to do another burpee jump is when I start on the path to true happiness I swear, but from idolising my favourite wrestlers in my early teens to a decade and counting of getting to be one of those guys? I’m living the dream every day that ends in a ‘y’ and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. Like I say, it’s not bad, it’s just different.

Mark finished the last sip of coffee, leaving the mug on the counter behind him.

Now I’ll have to make this uncharacteristically short, as you know what the problem with a hometown show is? You have to fit in visits with your hometown friends, hometown family, visit your hometown favourite restaurants, drink in hometown favourite bars, as well as an impromptu trip to Romania in between, but you’ll have to watch “The Purge” to see what that’s all about. It’s a real challenge to fit all of these things in, and that unfortunately means I can’t ramble on as much as normal, so two key points - BFTP, and Climax Control.

Mark clapped his hands once before diving straight in.

Now Blast from the Past hasn’t quite turned out how I expected. In fact, the only part of the plan that came together was the first round victory, but that, I suspect, was never really in doubt. I heard that invites went out for a match on the Travis Nathaniel Andrews retirement tour, and unless mine got lost in the mail, I’m guessing he doesn’t want any guaranteed losses out of those matches huh? Never mind. Like I said last week anyway, my dance card is already pretty full, and I wouldn’t want to make anyone look bad .

Mark unzipped and removed his jacket, revealing a Fire Dragons 1.0 shirt beneath it.

Would I rather Valentina was in my corner? Hell yes, because we meet at the nearest Starbucks and scheme how to terrorise the backstage interviewers on the regular. Dani Weston had me down as one of her preferred partners. Would I rather she was in my corner? Hell yes, we sit at the casino bar when it’s quiet and come up with silly little ranking lists and you know what? Both of them can, on occasion, find me funny once in a while. You know what one easy way to build chemistry in the ring is? Being able to have a conversation outside of it. That’s one barrier I’m having to work on breaking down right now, and sadly I might have to dial down my usual brand of humour to get there, but it’s a commitment I’m willing to make.

Mark removes the Fire Dragons 1.0 shirt. Underneath that, like a low-budget Russian doll, is a Fire Dragons 2.0 shirt.

You see one fact that remains is that Evie Jordan’s achievements here were incredible, awe-inspiring, one of the best Bombshells to set foot in the Sin City ring. A lot of things don’t last forever but in an industry like ours, class is permanent. I may not have a partner wearing a Fire Dragons 2.0 shirt with pride right now, but I have a partner who knows how to win a whole lot of wrestling matches, and so does she. Evie knows she doesn’t need this, and you know what, my own performances have done enough to earn me opportunities under their own steam. I could have let her walk away, taken a leaf out of her book and LITERALLY laid down and let TNA pin me, the kind of courtesy he probably expects from his farewell opponents. The benefit, I could stop wasting any more energy on this tournament and go back to forging my own path for someone who acted like they wanted it - Me. Of course, sorely tempting, but I have too much pride for that.

Mark picked up his coffee mug, remembered he’d already drained it, and put it back.

Mark my words - Even after that absolute mess of a debut, either one of us has more than enough pedigree to change the course of a contest on our own. Even if Evie and I don’t exchange a single word between now and the Quarter-Finals, there’s still a very real possibility we can advance. In this thing. Let me leave you with one final thought...what if we do talk before then? What if we do start putting it together and working as a team? What if Fire Dragons 2.0 DOES become a thing that happens after all? Checkmate other Blast from the Past contestants...but as time is ticking let’s just jump to the task in hand, and Jack Russow...now Jack presents an interesting problem for me...a problem being that my recent record against young stars hasn’t been as healthy as you might expect. The Fire Dragons came unstuck against Emmie Ward and Jack Asher - Culture Shock, on their title winning run...Faith Simpson...well I trained her, she knows all my secrets, so we can definitely write that victory one off can’t we…

He coughs, making no attempt to cover up it’s fakeness.

...and with the prospect of coming up against the highly coveted newcomers Tallyn and Jack Washington in the Blast from the Past tournament in my near future, it’s important that I approach this in the right way, maintain my momentum, and keep moving forward. Besides, rookies make things very interesting for the neutral fan...

Mark stretched out his shoulders.

Now as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a bit of a “Yes Man”, anyone remember the Jim Carrey movie? Jack, are you old enough to remember that one? When it comes to a new experience, a new training method, a restaurant that’s just opened, I say yes. I ask questions later, if I ask questions at all. I go through large passages of my life where I don’t consider what the worst is that’ll happen, I’m basically just plodding along thinking it’ll be fun and I’ll learn from it. Doesn’t sound too bad huh? Rookies are the yes men and women of the wrestling world. I’ve sat at ringside watching students of mine run the show, be firmly in the driving seat of a match, they just have to shift it into cruise control and wait for the victory to come. A few minutes later, my head is in my hands after they’ve LOST because they went for that top rope move they missed 98.7 times out of 100 in training the week before. Their reason? “Oh, I thought I could make it!” I’ll watch that same guy or girl a month later, getting their proverbial ass handed to them by some grizzled veteran who just knows how to control a wrestling match, probably someone like me - Hi! - only for them to, completely against the run of play, connect their finishing move on the veteran, but instead of from a standing position, pull it off AT A SPRINT despite never having the audacity to even consider such a thing in a training session. Their reason? “Oh, I thought I could make it!”

Mark puts both hands on his head in exasperation.

Seems pretty idiotic right? And yet, the guy that’s dropped the ball here the most, is me. You see there’s nothing wrong with what these young guys do, it’s all part of the learning process. Me, with my wealth of experience can sit in the audience and judge all I want, and I’m probably right too...but the volatility of an inexperienced competitor makes them try things that I wouldn’t dare, because I’ve been there and seen it go tits up. It’s unpredictability that gets them wins against big names and puts them on the map. Strong Style, boxing, jiu-jitsu, taekwondo, sudoku (to keep the brain sharp), I spend my time preparing myself for every single eventuality…and yet I don’t expect every eventuality. I think that’s what you call shifting your brain into neutral, don’t you?

Mark stepped closer to the camera.

Jack - For once I’ve watched far less of your matches than I normally would, and while granted, a big reason for that being I can’t FIND enough matches to watch the normal amount, this is a little change in approach for me. Plus, with the amount of times I’ve made Caleb Storms look bad in the past twelve months, there’s very little I can glean from that footage. By the way, it also means that win carries very little weight when you step in against the likes of me. Your unpredictability? I raise you versatility. Your three match win-streak? I’ve exceeded that numerous times. I take your ‘I wonder if this’ll work’ and I raise you ‘I know it won’t’ as I respond to it and you eat canvas. Your youthful exuberance...I call you with just plain exuberance...oh and that shadow you live under, with the Russow name? I raise you the shadow I cast over the guys in the locker room that fail week in, week out, to try and match my abilities. I don’t dislike you Jack, far from it. I want you to do well, and I look forward to raising the roof off of arenas with you in the future, but not now. Not here, in my home city. Not now, as I chase victory in Blast from the Past, and not while your opponents to this point would be lucky to score one win in ten against me. It’s a strange state of affairs that a Sin City Wrestling step up in class involves putting you in against a wrestler from it’s Development territory, but as I said about Evie earlier - Class is permanent, right? There will be a time Jack, where you’ll stand toe-to-toe with me. It’s just a case of when. Sunday night? A month’s time? A year? I look forward to watching you get there, and when that time comes, I’ll be waiting to put on a hell of a show with you.

With a single nod, The Dragon exits stage right, and the scene fades.

Part 3 - Worn Out Old Things

Canterbury, Kent held a special place in Mark's heart. He was born there, went to school there, it was where he played his tennis, soccer, cricket and later American Football, and we all know where that led, but he hadn't properly lived there before, only nearby. It didn't help that the two bedroomed apartment he’d bought cost more than a whole house would have done at their last stop in York - Before the NFL, there’s no way he could have afforded it,

He sat on the black leather couch, feet up, strumming away on a 1972 Gibson SG that had been abused by a previous owner, the back having lost all of it’s red stain, and with a poorly cut chunk of wood missing where they’d tried to widen a cavity for a larger pickup. Mark had been keen to rescue it before heading south. He heard the knock he had been expecting.

The Dragon: It's open!

The sound of the door opening, then closing can be heard. A few moments later, the doorway is filled with the grizzled Leon “Octane” McKane. His salt-and-pepper buzz cut hair had become even more salt than pepper since his days as an on-screen regular alongside Mark in Galveston Island Wrestling a few years back.

Octane: Damn man, what is THAT mess?

The Dragon: 72 SG. Needs a little TLC but it plays great. Have a go.

Mark offered the guitar up in one hand, a yellow Dunlop Tortex pick in the other.

Octane: You know I’m not very…

The Dragon: Go on, play Wonderwall on it.

Octane took it, dropping onto the opposite couch. Within a few moments, he’s strumming away playing some simple chords, the kind that would get you by in a campfire sing-a-long if nothing else.

Octane: Damn, that’s really comfortable.

The Dragon: It’s got a twisted neck - As soon as you put that on a sales listing it sends the price through the floor, but if it twists the right way then it works well with the shape of your hand and wrist. It’s why I managed to get such a good deal I think. Anyway, what was so urgent that you wanted to meet before the show anyway?

As Octane began, his tone solemn, he propped the guitar up next to him.

Octane:I know we’ve never been good at talking about serious stuff, it’s always been this obstacle between us and that’s fine man, it really is...but I wanted to finally talk about Russia…

The Dragon: Not this, not now…

Mark suddenly sat upright, hands locked tightly together in front of him. The white spots around his knuckles signified the strength he was clenching them.

Octane: Do you still think about it?

The Dragon: What...the horror movie that was The Institute, except I was living in it that one time? Yeah, that place still haunts my dreams.. Oh, and I don’t have anyone to stroke my hair and tell me it’ll be OK anymore either, makes it extra fun.

Octane: Still finding it rough without Amanda huh?

The Dragon: Of course, I fucking miss her. She was in my life well before wrestling was, or you. Now before you bring up any more painful subjects - What about Russia?

Octane: Well two reasons really, the first is just to tell you that, had we known…

The Dragon: Oh COME ON!

Mark’s hand slammed hard on the coffee table, causing his empty coffee mug to catch a moment of air time as it leapt in the air. Octane remained unflinched. He was aware of Mark’s sudden bouts of anger, but wasn’t scared by them.

The Dragon: Don’t come wandering in here telling me ten years later that you didn’t know. How could you not know? You and Andy saw the dollar signs and suddenly you forgot to check what you were walking me into?

Octane: Man, it wasn’t all about dollars, they didn’t tell us about…

The Dragon: They didn’t HAVE to tell you. It was right in front of your face for one simple subscription fee. I watched every episode. I knew EXACTLY what you’d signed me up for.

Octane: Then...why did you go, man?

The Dragon: I was a professional athlete, Octane. I still am to this day. I was in my mid-twenties living in this sweet house in an expensive part of Miami, I had cash in the bank. How grounded did you think I was back then exactly? I’d not long played in a Superbowl. My own arrogance told me I could walk in and out of there in one piece. Plus, you’d told me about your old gambling debts, Andy told me about the risks he’d taken leaving a well paying City job to work in the sports industry, I knew the money was more of a necessity for you two rather than greed. I wanted to do my bit. Now what I really don’t believe is that you guys didn’t have the first clue you might have been signing my death warrant, so tell me Octane, are you still sticking with your “you didn’t know” line?

His voice drops to a near whisper, but his head doesn’t.

Octane: Maybe I didn’t want to ask too many questions.

The Dragon: There we go - That sounds a little closer to the truth now doesn’t it?  What’s the second thing?

Octane: I got some news last week man...Andy went back to Russia a few weeks later, see? It was eating him up too much inside, he had to do something...and he was really worried you’d killed that dude, we both were...so he goes on back there, starts making calls, finds out these patients had got lost in the system somehow, they were pumping them full of a crazy cocktail of drugs and sending them in against guys like you. Some of them got messed up real bad. Andy managed to track down the family, you know, of that guy you fought, they got him outta there, straightened him out, even fixed his teeth…

Mark blinked a few times, or twenty, trying to process the information.

The Dragon: ...why are you telling me this?

Octane: He got married, his wife gave birth to their first child...I’m not good with technology so I got Andy to print a picture they sent…

Octane pulled a photograph out of the pocket of his coat. The camera captures a glimpse of the two parents, smiling in hospital, the tiny baby in their arms.

Octane: I know you left Russia only thinking about yourself, I don’t blame you man -  It’s just that...you seem to be drawn to old broken things that you can set straight man, if it has six strings on it anyway...thought seeing the human side might help with those sleepless nights, you know?

Mark reached across to take the photo from his old coach's hand. He studied it, other hand cupped over his mouth as he recognises the eyes that were mere centimetres away as he lay motionless on the ground some ten years previous. He said nothing, and his eyes don’t break from the image.

Octane: I’m gonna go man...good luck on Sunday, I’ve got my ticket.

The Dragon: Uhhh yeah sure, let's...grab a beer before Sunday though yeah?

Octane: OK man, look forward to it.

Mark’s eyes didn’t leave the photograph during the exchange, nor as Octane pushed himself up from the couch, or as he made his exit from the room, or the apartment. They remained transfixed as the scene faded to black.

 Part 1 - The Sorrow

The faces of Mark “The Dragon” Cross and Irish redhead “Deadly” Devinee Delaney appear side-by-side, a green tinge to both of their images. Between the two of them, the letters “PTT” and “Memory” show, reminiscent of a codec call from the Metal Gear Solid games. The conversation is a real Brit-fest, with Mark’s English and Devinee’s voice dripping with heavily-accented Irish.

The Dragon: Hey Devinee - How’s Japan?

Devinee: It’s good t’be back, ya know? Miss this place.

The Dragon: And Faith? How’s it going with that new girlfriend of hers?

Devinee: It’s not.

The Dragon: Oh wow - it sounded like she was really into her, even with the language barrier. How’s she holding up?

Devinee: Uhh...she’s been drinking more.

The Dragon: She doesn’t drink when she’s here.

Devinee: Exactly. I’m worried, d’ya think we should bring her back?

The Dragon: How bad is it?

Devinee: Well uhh…

The Dragon: Is she winning?

Devinee: Always.

The Dragon: How is she in training? Missing any sessions?

Devinee: 100% record. Beats me there most mornings.

The Dragon: It’s fine then.

Devinee: A teenage girl you’ve been training for the last four years is 7,000 miles from home and drinking to get over a break-up, how can you say that?

The Dragon: Because you did. I did.

Devinee: That’s different.

The Dragon: Why, because we’re British?

Devinee: It’s not good f’her.

The Dragon: Hey, you might be right, but we’re her coaches first and foremost. We look after wrestling matters and as far as those go, she’s as right as rain. She has friends, she has her family, if she needs a support network she can get one.

Devinee: I’m her friend. You’re like an older brother t’her.

The Dragon: And she won’t listen to us. You know she won’t appreciate it coming from you or me. Look - This isn’t the first time Faith’s got bent out of shape over a girl. If anything, it makes her better in the ring sometimes, angrier. If her performance drops or it gets bad we can step in, but she isn’t going to thank us.

Devinee: Ughh maybe ya got a point. Her Da’ did think this Japan thing would toughen her up a bit.

The Dragon: He’s been around the sport longer than both of us...but if she starts losing call me and we can have a rethink.

Devinee: Next week then? She’s fightin’ me next.

Mark sniggers in response.

Devinee: What? What’s funny?

The Dragon: Why’d you sign yourself up for that?

Devinee: I didn’t I was booked! I’ve beaten her b’fore.

The Dragon: I know, three years ago, I was there, but that was three years…

Devinee: You know what *beep* you Mark, why can I never rely on you to just *beep*ing believe in me for once in your life. You know what I’m gonna start her on a little losing streak and then she’s YOUR problem how about tha’?

The Dragon: Well that escalated quickly…

Devinee: I’m a good wrestler, and I’ve done this a helluva lot longer than golden girl.

The Dragon: And that’s why we wanted you on her coaching team...just...don’t inflict any long-term injuries alright?

Devinee: Deal.

The Dragon: Hey, Nee?

Devinee: I’m still not OK with you calling me that again yet...

The Dragon: Cool. You played Metal Gear Solid right?

Devinee: I ha’ to do the Psycho Mantis fight for you remember? Why?

The Dragon: Could you give me a lil “Snake...snaaaaaake?” to finish?

Devinee: Wha...oh you’re gonna do something stupid aren’t ye? Just leave me outta your silly little pro…

The Dragon: BYE!

The scene fades.

Part 2 - What’s up, slappers?

Following on from some good early traction on his Twitch channel, Mark “The Dragon” Cross was back again with another live stream. The scene opens to the same, newly converted gaming room that we’d seen from him the last time out. The collection of guitars behind him seemed to have grown, and his noblechair was now equipped with a blue branded neck pillow, the sides of it on show behind him.

The Dragon: What’s up slappers!?! Sorry - I’ve recently discovered Davie504 on YouTube, I think it’s become my new favourite channel, and I’m probably a little bit obsessed. I even got my bass out of storage...but you probably didn’t come to see me talk about guitars. Not tonight anyway. Hey, it’s The Dragon, thanks for jumping on with me tonight, and for those of you that have joined me over the past few days for my Football Manager streams, thanks a lot for keeping me company, it’s surprising how quickly we’ve got a little community building. As you can probably tell, I’m new to this, so still a few things to iron out. I’m useless at keeping up with chat, so I’ve got a second monitor on order that should help make that a little easier, but since I’m talking mostly about Climax Control here, I won’t have the chat up at all so I don’t get distracted and stick on topic - By my standards anyway.

Mark clears his throat.

The Dragon: Just before we get started though, a few questions I’ve got this week that I can answer real quick, what is a typical day for me...well, my home is in Miami, Florida. I try and come back here as often as I can between shows. I set up my own wrestling gym here, the Dragon’s Lair, which is maybe a 20-30 minute drive from my place, and I train virtually every day. Usually 3-4 hours, maybe less the day before or after a match. I study tape daily, on my opponent if possible, or on wrestlers with similar styles if there’s limited material, and I’ll usually do that at the gym as well, as I find I’m less distracted. That usually means getting back here at 3pm, I’ve got a swimming pool and a hot tub for recovery, then the rest of the day is my own. That gives me time to practice guitar, play games, watch a movie - and I watch a lot of other wrestling shows in my spare time too. I train hard, I try and absorb as much information as I can, and I make sure I give myself plenty of time to relax in-between. If I can bring you guys along for more of the down-time, I’ll definitely look to do that.

Mark reaches for a Fire Dragons mug, which he takes a long, satisfying sip from.

The Dragon: Also a lot of you have asked about how Faith’s been doing. She’s wrestling a tour with Pro Wrestling JAPAN, for those that don’t know already, and while I know she’s been quiet, it’s nothing to worry about. Being around a new culture can be daunting, and the training regime in the dojo is challenging, but another one of her coaching team is wrestling the same tour, and she’s in good hands. I know you were expecting regular updates, a whole Vlog series, but sometimes these experiences work out to be far more challenging than we first expect, and this isn't new. It isn't new for any of us in this business. Real life still rolls on for us wrestlers. Things happen. We can choose to break down, or we can carry on being a professional, doing a job, and putting the hours in. I mean look - Faith is nineteen, and yet she shows more focus and maturity than my opponent this week, and with a lot of the guys and girls I’ve shared locker rooms with over my career. I would love to say that I helped instil that in her early on. Maybe she had it already, or maybe it was a combination of both...whatever...but she has faced adversity and she has stayed on task. Are they typical teen dramas? Well yeah of course - but we all remember how "life-altering" they felt at that age. In the grand scheme of things, just how big are our problems anyway? My wife left me, that sucked. It still sucks, but I have my health. I have friends. I have a roof over my head, and I get to get up and do what I love every single day. I'm proud of that, and I’m proud of Faith, but I'm surprised. Surprised that we are oddities rather than the norm.

Mark takes another sip from the mug, holding it up to the camera for added effect, then pointing to it.

The Dragon: Distractions. Let me tell you a little something about distractions. I first picked up a guitar maybe 10 years ago. I didn’t have a natural talent for it, and basically, I'm still a shitty guitar player. I was too busy working at being a better wrestler when I first started, I still am now. I've flown planes, but I don't have a pilots licence. I've surfed, but I'm not much of a surfer…and all of these examples are because I can't afford to give them the level of commitment they need to take me to expert level. Enter the Homer Simpson meme here.

A picture of Homer Simpson fills the screen, with the text “Every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain.”

The Dragon: The fact is, I don't waste time on ventures that are going to divert my attention away from the endgame. I played in a Superbowl in the final season of my professional football career. We lost, but personally I had a pretty good game. In fact, it was my best season in the league. I went to "the big show" in my contract year...but the NFL was changing. I was the 'every down' Running Back - I could block a bit, run a bit, catch a bit, I wasn't the fastest or the strongest in the league...and every conversation I had regarding a new contract highlighted at least one of those flaws. Nobody wanted a Swiss Army knife anymore. They wanted to replace one guy like me with two or three guys that could do one of the jobs really well - I knew in pretty short order that I was done.

Mark shrugs nonchalantly.

The Dragon: I stopped waiting for the phone to ring. My agent was still confident, he’d get me on a practice squad, I could go back to NFL Europe...I could be like Ricky Williams and ball in Canada, just without the drugs bust on my record...but I knew the writing was on the wall and I cut my losses. I found something else because I had to keep busy. I committed to it fully because I wanted it. I became a wrestler. I gave up on ever playing football again, because I didn’t want my wrestling to be held back by living in the past, and I became a winner, I went one step further and captured the big prizes. I found my true calling and I went for it whole-heartedly. See it’s even more so today, but a few years in one of the big leagues, NFL, NBA, MLB, you name it, as long as you’re smart with your money you can pretty much set yourself up for life. I invested well, in stocks and in property, not fast cars and extravagant parties. I didn’t have to jump from one sport where I’d put life and limb on the line straight into another, and I’ve had people say to me, “hey why don’t you go and enjoy your money, you earned it after all, take it easy for a few years, you could do this, you could do that” but that’s never been the goal.

Mark looks down at the desk for a moment, collecting his train of thought.

The Dragon: I’ve never stopped being true to me. Mark Cross. The Dragon, in wrestling circles. You know what I’ve also had people say to me? You should work on your mic skills. You should try and appeal to a wider audience. Maybe wear a costume, change your name, you’ve got the in-ring talent, you could make it to the very top. In that...they might well be right...but that’s not me. I had virtually NO game with the ladies when I was younger, not until I made the jump to NFL Europe. When I started to make waves as an athlete, it boosted my self-confidence no-end believe it or not. I mean come on I was dropping Dad jokes as a teenager. This? Me in front of a camera? I do it. It’s part of the job and in truth, I like doing it...and I know there are people that are interested in hearing my viewpoint, and what I have to say. Others...a lot of others...probably just want it to end. I could have done something about that. I could have taken acting classes, or something. Instead I took more wrestling classes...because otherwise that’s all I’d be doing. Acting.

Mark shifts his chair to the side, revealing one of the frames hanging on the wall behind him. Within it is a large poster for “The Dark Knight” movie.

The Dragon: If you ask me who my favourite Superhero was, tough choice, but I’d probably say Batman was my guy. In a world of mutations, superhuman strength, hearing, X-ray vision, you name it...Bruce Wayne is basically just a guy with some nice gadgets who does a lot of pushups. That’s real. To me it makes him the most relatable, the most human...yet the results he gets, the things he achieves...that counts for something. That MEANS something.  

Mark looks back to his rack of guitars, which he has now turned his chair towards.

The Dragon: I will retire one day. I'll probably still be involved, continue coaching, maybe do some commentary work (lucky for you guys) but that'll be more about giving back to the industry rather than for me. I'll probably grab my guitar, write some songs, take them on the road to whatever dive bar will let me play, see if my music is good enough to maybe move a couple of people, who knows...but not now. “The Dragon” may hang up his boots but the man behind the “mask” is still the same. It’s not me giving up. It’s just me freeing up time to commit to the next thing, because I don’t have side projects. I have the wrestling project. The be better in the ring project. The get in the best shape of my life project. The winning more titles project. I even dug the beating Teddy Steele project out of the filing cabinet for one more run.

The Dragon: And this...brings me quite nicely to Teddy Steele. He spends so long trying to be a musician, a lyricist, a manager, a womaniser...a woman...that he's never properly knuckled down and got on with his own project of being a wrestler. It’s sad, and in a way, I feel for him. At times, I think he’s more than a little misunderstood, and I think more often than not, he wishes things could be different, that he could learn to knuckle down...but then he’ll dive off down some other rabbit hole that doesn’t lead to Wonderland. There’s only one Wonderland that I know of. It’s dunking yourself in a lava-hot tub as your aching muscles breathe a collective sigh of relief at the end of an intense training session. Hard work. That’s the golden ticket. I’m under no illusions here, I’m not indestructible. I’ve developed some holes in my game that just weren’t there before I dropped to part-time. I learned from that mistake, it’s an ongoing process to address those, and yes, scary thought to those who have slipped up against me already, I strive every single day to be better than I was the day before. Can Teddy beat me, straight up? Yes - but he hasn't. Can Bill Barnhart beat me straight up, yes - but he hasn't. That’s twice over, for both men. If the result stays the same for a third time, I think maybe we need to leave quite a substantial gap before we do it again.

The image of a GRIME mask flashes on and off the screen for a few seconds before we cut to shaky phone camera footage from a hotel bar. A thumbnail of Mark talking away from his live stream shifts to the bottom right, the audio muted. With his chat muted, as he’d explained at the start of his video, he seemed completely unaware. In the new scene, his arm is draped lazily over the shoulder of a woman...the same one whose apartment we saw him escaping from after his two victories at the High Stakes Supershow.

There are a small group of strangers sitting, standing and leaning around the couches as the phone wobbles around.

Guy #1: Kiss, marry, avoid. SCW Bombshells.

The Dragon: Ah c'mon…

Guy #1: Kate Steele, Sierra Williams, Bobbie Dahl - Go!

Camera Guy: No...Kate, Sierra, Valentina.

Guy #1: OOOOOOOH

Girl: That’s less fun don’t put Valentina in there!!

The Dragon: With the camera, seriously?

Camera Guy: Don't worry bro I'm so wasted I'll forget I have this!

The Dragon: Ugh I dunno...

Crowd: DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT

The Dragon: OK OK fine...avoid Sierra, she'd eat me alive.

Girl: And we all know how these next two are gonna go...

Camera Guy: Just let him answer

The Dragon: Kiss...umm...Val marry Kate

Girl: What!?!

Guy #2: No way!!

The Dragon: What?

Guy #1 She's...weird. Her husband’s weird. The whole thing’s just...weird ya know?

The Dragon: Oh come on, anyone loyal enough to put up with his bullshit every day has GOT to be a keeper right? I mean I can be pretty hard to live with but I’ve gotta be a Godsend compared to that...Besides she doesn’t seem that bad...and she might be able to teach me not so suck so much at guitar…

The girl’s hand shoots to his arm to comfort him.

Girl: I bet you’re not that bad bab…

Mark laughs out loud, probably too loud for being indoors, which cuts her immediately off.

The Dragon: Nice try, but I’m terrible. I’ve been playing for 10 years and I’m terrible.

Guy #1: So Kate walks over here right now, says that she’d leave Teddy for you, you’d say yes.

The Dragon: Hey if it means chalking up another win against him...

Crowd: OHHHHHH!

Camera Guy: Send her some flowers or something man!

The Dragon: ...Why?

Guy #2: Yeah dude, that’d be so funny!

The Dragon: Nope. Nopenopenope. Already been involved in one broken up marriage this year, mine, I’m swerving that like...erm...some like...plane or something...I’m drunk, I’m going to bed.

Mark pushes himself up from the couch, holding his arms out to the sides as if to balance himself. We see him move away from the group, accidentally bumping his hip on the edge of one of the couches which staggers him sideways for a couple of steps. The girl, maybe surprised by how her new famous wrestler friend had left without her, hopped up from the couch and gave chase, bare-footed with a pair of stiletto heels in her hand.

We're taken back to the live stream, this time with Mark’s audio reactivated.

The Dragon: I honestly don’t know why Teddy would have wanted this match-up to happen. He needs momentum, a couple of easy wins against a few rookies, maybe some softer opponents here and there...he’s not ready to avenge losses against Roulette champions in Griffin or guys with the ability to give the top guys a run for their money like me. That takes confidence, that takes focus, that takes motivation. Maybe even anger. The type of burning rage you get filled with when someone looks at your wife the wrong way, and you just want to rip their head clean off their shoulders. It might be the push he finally needs to put wrestling, the ancient art of doing a lot of damage to another man, at the top of his agenda. Shame I’m not that guy.

Mark shrugs as he cracks the top on a bottle of water, taking a long sip.

The Dragon: I don’t have too much more to say about the guy, as I’ve pretty much exhausted it all. The story with Teddy hasn’t changed since the last time I faced him, and while he was fast out of the blocks against me, at times in the match he almost felt like a no-show. We’ve heard the usual histrionics - I won’t fight you. I won’t show up. I’ll lay down. You’re turning my wife against me wah wah wah. Honestly in Sin City Wrestling, I can’t tell if my opponent is going to show up, in Sin City Underground I can’t finish a match without somebody else running in and getting involved. You know what would be a nice surprise? If everyone turned up for their own matches, wrestled in those, then stayed backstage for everything else. That’s what we call starting 2020 right.

Mark takes another glug of water.

The Dragon: So I think I’m going to wrap it up there. Thank you very much everyone for watching, please drop the channel a follow if you haven’t already, and be sure to turn on notifications to get a heads-up when I’m live next. For those of you making the trip to Port Charlotte, I look forward to seeing those Fire Dragons t-shirts!! Cheers guys.

The scene fades to black.

 Part 1 - No Outsiders

We're taken to Miami, Florida and to The Dragon's Lair, training base of Sin City wrestler and aspiring eFamous Twitch streamer Mark "The Dragon" Cross.

We are brought into a conversation with Faith Simpson, the gym's brightest prospect, and two other gym regulars. The three of them are staring into the ring, which is currently occupied by a man wearing a purple mask, black compression shirt, purple boots and matching purple wrestling pants, emblazoned with Japanese katakana and hiragana along both legs. The unknown wrestler is entertaining himself by bouncing around the ring, displaying an array of flips and corkscrews for the unimpressed crowd.

Faith: Who's that guy?

James King: Nobody knows, he just showed up.

8-Track: Doesn't speak English either, just shouts in Japanese at anyone that's tried.

Faith: Is Honda training today, he's Japanese right?

8-Track: Half Japanese yeah, he's just suiting up to get in the ring. Apparently this kid calls himself "The Ultimate Dragon King"

James King: What a bellend.

8-Track: A bell...end? Is that a British thing?

Faith: There's only one Dragon King in this gym. GIVE HIM HELL HONDA! WOOOOOO!

Emerging from the locker room appears Tashiro Honda, a promising high-flyer whose career had stalled due to fears that he was undersized when it came to handling the more physical guys on the roster. He wore a wry smile across his lips as students stopped what they were doing to witness one of their own send this "gaijin", this outsider packing.

James King: What is he, 6'1" or 6'2"?

8-Track: Looks strong too...why is he flying around like that?

James King: It's like when the boss goes for a Moonsault…

Faith: Haha yeah, you close your eyes when he does that too?

The match begins in typical fare for the fighting style with a real cat and mouse game of ducking clotheslines, leapfrogging, stepping over a drop-toe-hold attempt, eventually culminating in a slingblade from the newcomer. Intent in keeping up the momentum he lands a springboard moonsault from the middle rope, closely followed by a low drop kick to the face of Honda, who was intent on scrambling quickly back to his feet.

James King: Oh.

8-Track: Faith maybe you shoulda taken this guy…

Faith: Tash is coming back…

Honda manages to duck under another clothesline, stops on a dime and gets in a position to execute something from behind. Determined not to let up for a second, the masked wrestler uncorks an Asai DDT, sending his opponent back down to the mat with a thud.

Faith: Never mind…

8-Track: C'mon Faith! Honda's getting his ass handed to him out there!

James King: You know what hotshot, why don't you get in there?

8-Track: Hell no! You go! What's the matter can the King of England not wrestle without his cup of tea?

James King: You need to watch your mouth.

Faith: OK fine I'm going.

8-Track: Yaaaaaay!

James King: Go Faith!

The camera shifts back to the ring. Continuing his dominance, the masked invader nails Honda with a running sitout powerbomb, the rookie bouncing heavily on impact as Faith Simpson appears on the apron, offering a tag to the young man.

Kyukyoku Ryujin: DAME! DEKINAI!

The masked man shouts loudly in Japanese, his arms cutting the air wildly as Honda eyes the hand, then his opponent, then the hand again.

Kyukyoku Ryujin: DEKINAI! MURI!

Again he shouts, louder this time, jumping on the spot as if to try and emphasise the point. It falls on deaf ears as Tashiro slaps the hand, rolling out of the ring and onto the safety of the gym floor. Faith leaps herself into the ring, an outstretched hand beckoning the challenger onto her.

"The Ultimate Dragon King" looks around the gym, then to Faith. "MURI!" he shouts again (which Honda would later explain translates to impossible), turns tail and flips over the top rope and to the outside. Landing on his feet, the masked man sprints towards the exit of the gym and to the street, wanting no part of the new challenger. Sarcastic jeers accompany his exit as he hauls ass.

Faith: You OK Tash?

Faith can be seen peering through the middle rope to the floor, where Tashiro Honda had laid where he fell, trying to get his breath back.

Honda: Damn that guy was fast...and strong...what an experience…

Faith: You know what Mark always says though right, you only get better by wrestling better people.

Honda: Did the SCW guys get...a tape of that?

Faith: Yup they sure did. Want me to cue it up?

The scene fades to black.

Part 2 - Master of Disguise

We are taken to Mark “The Dragon” Cross, seated behind a cluttered desk in a dimly lit office as he addresses the camera.

The Dragon: These past few weeks have been eventful to say the least. It's pretty rare that in defeat you make any kind of a splash in this industry, but when it's against the Man of the Year, whose winning streak is longer than my...ahem...and whose name as a prospective opponent strikes fear into the hearts of some in the main locker room, well I think giving him one hell of a run keeps my draft stock rising. I’ve stepped in against guys like Fenris, more often than not the underdog but with a little undertone of “but what if he wins though?”. Good question. I had doubters of course. I had doubters in my own team even, asking if maybe I would have preferred an easier opponent to book myself a spot in the six-pack challenge but no, I wanted to prove myself against the guy on the hottest of hot streaks. After all, that’s the calibre of opponent I need to beat week in, week out, if I wanted to remain World champion. I came damn close, and you know what, I'm finally starting to get some recognition for it too.

Mark reaches for his phone, staring at the screen as he reads the next part from it.

The Dragon: I quote from Twitter, @AlexJonesvws
"You aren’t as inept as I once believed."

The scrub from the budget brand, who perhaps came closest of all to scoring that ever elusive win that would have ended the White Wolf’s run. Where are the detractors now anyway? Probably starting to believe. Starting to believe like Alex Jones, who could lose all credibility if he can’t come through against the veteran Bill Barnhart, who I’ve already dispatched twice. How the tables have turned if that’s the case. We’re finally reaching the stage where my opponents won’t underestimate me out there, and to be honest, that’s all I ever wanted. This is real belief, I’m not talking about the cult-level BS being rammed down our throats like the Good Shepherds. As we found out, that only got them so far, and I meant every word I said. Walk into a wrestling ring? You’re in my church now.

Mark ran his fingers loosely through his hair as he collects his thoughts.

The Dragon: Now that was a tough match. They had me right where they wanted me for a while, trapped on an island, no easy way to get out and teach the tag. Danger danger Will Robinson level stuff, right? Go 2 Sleep. Shining Wizard. Perilous situation diffused, desperate defence into all-out attack in two moves...and this is why the results are going how they are for me. I’m far from perfect in my work in the ring, a little too long on a part time schedule. I know that, we’ve talked about it before, but I know my best is right around the corner, more hard work, more matches, and it will all start to fall into place but right now? Destructive firepower. You hear about some boxers and their “one punch power” as they look for that one single shot so sweet that it could floor the best in the world if it connects. Now there are way more strings to my bow than that, make no mistake, but even when I’m not getting things all my own way, I have the potential to click my fingers and change it in one or two small, key moments. That’s why this train doesn’t show signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Mark reaches down, bringing up a large piece of card printed with the December II Dismember logo, which he holds next to his face.

The Dragon: I’ll get onto more pressing matters and the next Climax Control very soon, but let me briefly touch on December II Dismember for a second. Fenris and Ben Jordan deprived you, the fans, of a special match not too long ago. The event, phenomenal regardless of course, and on a personal level I was delighted to pick up a brace of victories...but I recognise you missed out on that final jewel in the crown. If you’re still feeling sore about that - Griffin Hawkins vs Mark Cross. Roulette title match. Win or lose, it has all the potential to raise the roof and bring down the house all at once. We look forward to making amends on behalf of our colleagues, but back to the task at hand.

Mark puts the card down behind him and again reaches out of shot, retrieving something. He brings a lucha libre mask into view. It is a vibrant purple colour, with gold trim around the eyes and mouth. Raising from each side, almost like horns, are two golden dragons with fiery orange breath erupting from their mouths. The detail and craftsmanship seems impressive. It looks oddly familiar to those who will have watched Part 1.

The Dragon: This is the mask of Kyukyoku Ryujin...roughly translates to "The Ultimate Dragon King" in Japanese, and this… is mine. As I found out earlier this week, some of my team have secrets from me, and I have the same with them, as far as this is concerned. I only wore this mask for a short time, on two Tours over in Japan. They wanted more high flyers on their roster. Since I wanted to work on that side of my game, and as an already well established Strong Style wrestler, the fans just wouldn't buy that from Mark "The Dragon" Cross, so I put this on and I pulled double duty. I played the role and started to get the feeling I was reinventing myself. I earned the mask. I doubled my schedule. I had to find excuses to sneak off so the illusion wouldn’t be broken, all in the name of practicing what I thought was a weak point in my game.

Mark puts the mask down on the desk in front of him. The camera moves down a little, keeping it in view.

The Dragon: ...but Tedd...Lady...you know whatever I'm getting sick of this with you. Changing a name? A new outfit, putting on a mask, you’ve pretty much tried them all by now You know what happened when I wore that? I flew. I flew like a bird and yeah for a while I felt liberated, but you know what forcing myself to utilise it made me realise? High flying wasn't a weakness in my game after all, I'd just gotten comfortable. I was racking up victories with heavy hitting and power grappling that I didn't broaden my horizons to what else I had in my skill set.

Mark shrugs at the camera.

The Dragon: All that happened was that I realised the mask didn’t change me. I was winning BEFORE I took on that new persona, a lot. I was winning with the mask on too. I was winning a different way, not the way Mark "The Dragon" Cross would have done it, but the Result. Didn't. Change. It just got me there a little faster. Oh, I’m looking predictable, I need something else, maybe more submissions...but then I’d lose my high tempo offence and really underpins everything I do...maybe I should start flying around a little more, oh hey, this is fun, and I’m good at this, and it just helps keep my opponents guessing even more - You see how simple that is? I’d have got there in the end, on my own power, and that’s part and parcel of evolving as a wrestler. A little makeup won't make the change for you either Teddy. You can't sweep a loss under the carpet with a new persona because hey guess what, we all know what you are. The words spilled out of your own mouth weeks ago. You ARE a loser. You ARE a glorified manager, and probably the one that resonates most, you're a drummer. Been there, done that, didn't get anywhere near the number of girls I expected. Definitely no threesomes. You know that. I know that. The locker room knows that…

Mark clears his throat, lowering his voice a little for the next part.

The Dragon: That doesn't mean I don't respect you. Admitting that to yourself, that took guts, and it's maybe, just maybe a sign that you're ready to start taking it to the next level. I acknowledge you became Roulette champion in a real tough matchup. I was right there with you. Your win was opportunistic, sure, but it showed you have your head in the game more than a lot of the roster probably give you credit for, and I will prepare for you like I prepare for a champion. Potentially, that won’t be what you want to hear, but it’s what you deserve and that’s important. Important for me to say, and important for you to know that.

Mark looks back down at the mask on the desk.

The Dragon: Now by now, you will have seen footage of a guy wearing this mask taking one of my students to the cleaners back in Miami. Yup, that would be me. I've admitted it to Faith, and I've admitted it to Tashiro Honda and you know what? He asked for another practice match sometime. He sat with me and we went through the footage and the only thing he wanted to do was learn to get better after that experience. Now you know what Teddy that kid not only has the attitude of someone that can become a champion, you've proved that anyone can do that on their day, but to STAY a champion. He couldn't handle the heat on that day, and he stood up and he owned that. I like Tashiro a lot. Never one to back away from a fight, and never one to pass up the opportunity to take something he didn’t know before. It’s why when we spoke in Japanese, he stepped forward to take the challenge himself. It wouldn’t have taken much for one of my guys to get in that ring and show me what the Dragon’s Lair is all about.

He picks up the mask, turns it over in his hands a couple of times, then returns it to the desk.

The Dragon: So Teddy - Be like Tashiro Honda. Whatever the result, whatever the stipulation, know I’m coming for you. Know I plan on warming up for December II Dismember with a second win against you on my record, one-on-one. I'm hoping for a challenge, a proper tool-up, but I'll quite happily sweep you aside if you suffer another confidence shortage. Know I will capitalise on your weaknesses and punish your errors. Know that while you perfect lyrics, I perfect wrestling moves. Lastly, remember it’s 2019, and it’s not hard to get a copy of match footage with today’s modern technology. Get a copy fella. Watch it. Learn from it, and when you want to thank me for the free lesson, my DMs are always open. Look forward to seeing you out there.

With that, Mark nods to the camera, steps up from the chair, and turns to leave as the scene fades to black.

Part 3 - No Judgement

We are taken to a hospital room. Laying back on the bed next to an ultrasound machine is an unknown brunette, her long hair swept over her right shoulder. She had an olive complexion, seeming almost mediterranean, and the grey tank top she wore, rolled up to just above her stomach as instructed by the nurse, revealed two full sleeves of tattoos. A male doctor, who definitely looks too young to be qualified, in her eyes anyway, enters the room a few moments later.

Wilson: Matilda? I’m Doctor Wilson.

Matilda eyes him nervously.

Matilda: Don’t female doctors usually do this?

Wilson:Usually, we have a couple of illnesses today so I’m covering the ultrasounds.

Matilda: You know what you’re doing right?

Wilson:Yes, they train us all thoroughly.

Matilda: OK - That’s fine.

Doctor Wilson positions himself next to the equipment, checking the calibration, then applying gel to the area he’d be scanning in a moment or two.

Wilson: I see from your notes that there’s been difficulty getting hold of the father - Still no news?

Matilda: I can't contact him. He has a team of people trying to keep me away. One of them I even thought was a friend for a while.

As Doctor Wilson begins to move the probe, he diverts his attention to the screen.

Wilson: A team? Why does he have a team?

Matilda: Oh he's a pro wrestler. I didn't want to tell him at all at first, but this guy, his accountant I think, tried to get us back together or something I don't know...when this 'Andrew' found out about the baby I don't think he liked the idea so much.

Wilson: How about you?

Matilda: I don't know. I think it just proves why I didn't want to be a part of that lifestyle. Maybe it's better my child isn't either.

Wilson: That lifestyle? Big house, fast cars, that kind of thig?

Matilda: I mean, he seemed down to earth whenever we were together and I was almost able to forget what he was most of the time, but he owns a mansion in Coconut Grove, swimming pool, hot tub, drives around in this white Aston Martin convertible everywhere...got a watch collection worth more than I make in a year...

Wilson: Coconut Grove huh?

Matilda: You know it?

Wilson: I know cosmetic surgeons way above my pay grade that live there if that's what you mean. Listen, I'm no expert, but if you like the guy, and he's on board with this whole child thing, it sounds like you could do a lot worse for you and your kid financially and you never know, maybe he’ll be more supportive than you think?

Matilda: Hmm. Maybe. I mailed him my positive pregnancy test a few days ago since I couldn't speak to him myself. You think he got it?

Wilson: You did WHAT?

Doctor Wilson’s head suddenly snaps away from the monitor.

Matilda: Sent him my pregnancy test. Surely his guys don't open his mail too?

The Doctor, suddenly feeling awkward, cleared his throat.

Wilson: So you're around 12 weeks pregnant so far. That's going to put your due date towards the end of May…

Matilda: You don't approve?

Wilson: It just...isn't how I'd like to find out that's all.

Matilda: It's not how I wanted to tell him either but what am I to do if some coglioné in a suit won't let me speak to him huh!?! You think I wanted any of this?

Wilson:I'm sorry I didn't…

Matilda: You judgemental asshole!

Wilson: I…you asked my opinion…

Matilda: You're...you’re right, I'm sorry, Italian hot-headness, Mark always said it was cute…

Mark? Not Mark "The Dragon" Cross?

Matilda: Oh God this is exactly why I didn’t want...you know him?

I follow all the Miami wrestlers! I mean I know he’s British but he’s wrestled here enough times and I know he trains here...I tell you what, haven't seen him looking this good since the days of Galveston Island Wrestling it’s incredible! He must REALLY be focussing on his game right now.

If looks could kill...

Matilda: Are we done here?

Wilson: Well yeah I guess I've done all I…

Matilda hurriedly pulls down her shirt, grabs her bag, and makes for the exit.

Matilda: I need to leave. Right now.

Wilson: Well ok, down the corridor and to your...yup, bye then!

Wilson shakes his head disapprovingly.

Wilson: The Dragon huh? Didn’t know he was that kinda guy…

The scene fades to black.


Part 4 - Surprise!

We are taken to a small, dimly lit office area. It has a small desk squeezed into the corner so it can still be called an office, but the majority of the space is taken up by an array of TVs and playback equipment. Andy, accountant, matchmaker, manager and post sorter, can be seen scouring through piles of mail as the door opens, introducing Faith Simpson.

Faith: Hey Andy!

Andy: Oh, hey Faith...I thought you and Mark weren't coming in until later?

Faith: There's construction work near my apartment, noise woke me up so I figured I'd get started on the footage for my new company out in Japan.

Andy: And Mark?

Faith: Getting doughnuts or something I dunno…what are you doing here so early?

Andy: Oh, just some admin.

Faith sits herself down at the desk, which is the main station used for going over match film. She looks down to find a pregnancy test sitting on it, directly in front of her.

Faith: Ewwwww Andy!! Someone's pee'd on that why is it on the desk!?!

Andy: Yeah Faith it's a pregnancy test, that's what you do with them. Haven't you ever…

Faith: No!! I like girls you idiot why would I ever need one of those?

Andy: I just thought…

Faith: Look just...get rid of it OK? What's wrong with you?

Faith hops up from the desk in disgust and moves away.

Andy: OK fine.

Andy shuffles over, picking the test up gingerly with two fingers as he looks around for a trash can to put the it in. His two-fingered grip is weak, resulting in the test dropping out of his hand and bouncing under the desk. With a sigh he drops to his knees and starts to crawl.

Faith in the meantime follows the trail of administrative destruction, a brown padded package ripped open, a handwritten note loosely on top, which she picks up and reads. Outside the door, the muffled voice of The Dragon can be heard.

Faith: You're opening Mark's mail huh?

The Dragon: WHO WANTS DUNKIN DONUTS!?!

Collective Roar: YEAAAAAAAH!
One overexcited wrestler: HELL YEAH!

As Andy appears from under the desk, he watches the colour drain from Faith's face. The same fate afflicts him as he realises the note she has in her hands.

Faith: Matilda's pregnant…

Andy: Faith…

Faith: You knew…

Andy: Listen to me…

Faith: You had me…

Faith's hand clasps over her mouth in shock.

Faith: I promised him I wouldn't get involved…

Andy: Now Faith it's not as bad as…

Faith: You...you dragged me into this...I let you…

Faith turns on her heels and heads out of the office, striding purposefully towards the gaggle of wrestlers swarming around The Dragon and his two large boxes of doughnuts.

Andy: FAITH NO!

Behind her is a flurry of activity from Andy as he struggles to his feet, the least athletic of anyone in the building at that moment in time. In the heat of the moment he grabs one of the metal folding chairs from the desk, not really knowing what he was doing as he set off at a run, she was nearly halfway there...and it was almost as if something took over his arms as he cracked the chair across the back of the teenager, dropping her to the floor.

Silence filled the space as everyone turned to look.

Jefferson Baracas: Daaaaaaamn son!

The Dragon: Andy what the HELL are you doing!?!

Andy: Uhhh...well…

As Andy drops the chair, the sound of clattering metal fills the now whisper quiet space. Faith  smacks the floor twice with her palm.

The Dragon: You good Faith?

Faith: Yup...he hits like a girl I'm good…ugh...

She gingerly begins to pick herself up from the floor.

The Dragon: Both of you, office. Now. Jefferson hold these please…

Jefferson Baracas: Naaaaw man I'm on this special diet see…

The Dragon: Take the fucking…

Seeing what was unfolding he thrusts the box into the hands of the protesting wrestler, setting off at a run towards the pair.

Jefferson Baracas: I'm gonna get frosting on my hands!

The Dragon: Gimme that…

With moments to spare, he is able to cross the floor just in time to wrestle the chair out of the hands of Faith, who was stalking the dejected-looking accountant from behind with revenge on her mind.

We watch as Mark matches the pair the rest of the way inside the office we saw a few moments ago as the scene fades to black.

 Part 1 - The Draw

It's the morning after Climax Control. An assortment of ring techs, stage hands and road crews can be seen milling around, completing the pack down and the general process of making the arena look less like a hurricane passed through it the day before.

Along with a gaggle of wrestlers, waiting for their tournament matchups.

Approaching from down the corridor comes Mark "The Dragon" Cross, his protege, Faith Simpson, and his accountant/manager/occasional matchmaker, Andy, who does the honours and heads for the board.

Andy: Fenris.

Faith: Hell no! / The Dragon: HELL YEAH!

The teenager puts her head in her hands, while the Brit in his 30s punches the air.

Faith/The Dragon: What?

Faith: Why hell yeah? You could have had a way easier draw!

Mark points in the direction of the notice.

The Dragon: Andy - What does it say on the top of that sheet?

Andy: Umm...World Heavyweight qualifying matches?

The Dragon: That's why.

Mark smacks the back of his hand against his other palm to emphasise the point.

Faith: ...huh?

The Dragon: World Heavyweight title. The pinnacle. The belt held by in theory, the top competitor in the company at the time. Do you think I'm going to prepare for a match like that scoring a third win against Bill Barnhart, no disrespect to him of course...or Caleb "Anyone but Fenris" Storms? I become champion by beating championship quality wrestlers with championship quality performances.

Faith: Are you trying to win the title? Or just sell it to us…

The Dragon: I'm SO glad you chose to tag along Faith. By the way...why are you both still here in Tucson anyway?

They exchange sideways glances

Faith: Meeting a friend.

Andy: Yeah me too.

The Dragon: Same friend or different friend

Faith: Same fri… / Andy: Differ…

Faith/Andy: The same friend.

The Dragon: You both have the same mutual friend. In Tucson. Who I don't know well enough to get invited in on this.

Faith: Yeah.

The Dragon: You're up to something.

Andy: Nope.

The Dragon: Whatever - Look, I'm going back to spend a few days in Miami, I have a flight to catch, just don't go causing any trouble with this friend OK?

Faith: Yeah, sure.

Andy: We can do that.

The Dragon: Riiiiiight…

Mark slings his holdall over his shoulder, turns on his heel, and heads to leave. Faith and Andy breathe a sigh of relief as the interrogation ends there.


Part 2 - Old Footage

“Reykjavik - Iceland” appears on the bottom left of the screen as an extract from a grainy (by today’s 4K Ultra-HD standards) documentary begins to roll. Probably still available to watch on some far-flung corner of YouTube, and titled “Outside the ‘Iron” it sought to shed light on the personal lives of NFL players away from the field.

Narrator: After a successful first season since his promotion from NFL Europe, Raiders running back Mark Cross and his girlfriend chose Iceland to get away from it all.

We are taken to a much younger Mark can be seen seated on a coach, alongside a pretty blonde girl with shoulder-length hair. Long-standing fans may recognise her as his (now ex) wife Amanda, who played a big part in his appearances during the early years of his wrestling career. They are both wrapped up in large coats and scarves. The voice of the tour guide can be heard in the background.

The scene switches to an interview. The words "Mark Cross - Oakland Raiders" appears in the bottom left.

Cross: I earned the starting job during pre-season, and since then it's been a whirlwind that Amanda's just had to sort of...tag along for the ride. Given where I’d come from, I figured I’d be grinding it out in the practice squad, not even travelling to games in my first year. It was the total opposite - We needed a vacation that was a total change of pace.

The perspective changes. "Amanda Robinson - Mark's girlfriend" appears on the screen next.

Amanda: It has been hard at times, sure. It was still a new relationship really, but sometimes we can go weeks where we barely get to see each other...but it's OK. We've just gotten really good at making the most of the time we do get together.

We are taken back to the coach, which has now pulled up to its destination. The passengers are seen piling out onto a large slope looking out onto the water, Mark and Amanda among them. The slope housed a small cafe and bar, and the owner could be seen milling through the crowd, offering out shots of Brenivin to warm the cockles. We see Mark and Amanda call “skol!” to each other as they chink the shot glasses and drink them in one.

Cross: We went four times to try and see the Northern lights before it finally happened.

Anticipation grows in the crowd as a flash of green begins to show itself in the sky above the water. There are cheers, the flashes of cameras...and we see Mark drift a little away from Amanda, reach into his coat pocket, take out a small box, fold it open, and drop to one knee.

His hand reaches out, tapping his fiancee on the arm. She wheels around in surprise, screaming with such excitement that a large contingent of the crowd diverted their attention from Aurora Borealis to witness the proposal. We are taken back to the interview stage.

Amanda: I was sooooo surprised when he did it! Everyone was cheering...and it was like we’d all shared a special moment up there already, seeing the lights all together...and especially after the good news we got before we left things are really looking up for us!

Narrator: After a successful first season, Mark was rewarded with a three year contract extension in Oakland.

We are taken back to the hilltop. Mark has lifted himself up from the frozen ground, and there is whooping and applause as Amanda marvels at the ring that is now firmly on her ring finger. Brennivin is flowing to celebrate the happy couple, and the sight of one of the most beautiful natural phenomena known to man.

Cross: I probably would have carried the ring back to Oakland if we hadn’t seen them then. It was this perfect proposal I’d cooked up in my mind. By that point I had to have it.

Amanda: When Mark got his new contract, and with us getting engaged shortly after, it was finally a chance for us to concentrate on being a couple. We could buy a house and make it our own finally, not being scared to have to move somewhere new.

Cross: I knew how important putting down roots to Amanda. Being on the road isn’t for everyone, and while she travels with me as much as she can, I know she’s way more comfortable having a place to call home than she is in any hotel.

We are taken back to Iceland one last time (for this extract) as the tourists, merry from the alcohol and high on their experience together, began to pile back onto the coach. The documentary moves onto the next player and their story, and that is where we cut.


Part 3 - Prepared for Anything

The scene opens to the Miami home of Mark “The Dragon” Cross. He has a large mug of coffee in his hand, and can be seen sitting in the living room of his home, upright on the couch and ready to address the camera. He clears his throat, taking a sip from the mug as he prepares to begin.

The Dragon: To quote the famous REM song, everybody hurts...sometimes. Didn’t think I’d start here now did you? Well surprise surprise, because I know what you’re used to seeing from me. Positive, upbeat, focussed, determined, willing to poke fun at myself on more than one occasion...and quite frankly, why wouldn’t I be given how things have been going for me in the ring lately. What right do I have to complain? Well, you’d have a point. I think I eluded to this last week, getting inside the head of my opponent is an important part of the work I do to prepare for anything I do in a wrestling ring. This isn’t about getting under their skin as such...more about understanding what makes them tick, and how they’re going to react to these things.

Mark takes another sip from the mug.

The Dragon: Now I want to talk a little about loss, and about heartache. Anyone can get their heart broken. Ask Fenris about it. Hell - Why don’t you ask ME about it. We've both seen it happen in our recent pasts. That's life unfortunately, and yes, life does suck sometimes. It sets out to test us, and if we’re not careful it can swallow us up, destroy us, and spit us out the other side, probably when we least expect it to. I’ve learned to take it much like I do this sport that we both compete in. It isn’t what happens to us that makes the difference - It’s how we respond to it that is the real key to life, the universe, and everything.

Mark turns his head to the left, looking at something off in the distance. Seeing it, and taking it in for a few moments, he sighs heavily.

The Dragon: I can see why you went back to Iceland by the way - Beautiful country. It was the first real vacation I took with my now ex-wife. We floated around in geothermal lagoons listening to Sigur Ros on underwater speakers. We ate skyr for breakfast, drank Brennivin in the evenings, ate bread that was buried in the ground to cook it, even tried pickled shark once. Once, and never again. We bought jumpers made from Icelandic wool. We rode Icelandic horses...and she accepted my proposal as the Northern lights flashed overhead. It sounds so stereotypical, so cliche, so touristy, but from the moment the ink dried on my first NFL contract to present day, my life has been running a million miles a minute. For those 7 nights on that little island you call home, it was like time was moving in slow motion, and it became our safe haven whenever we needed that escape from the real world and just wanted to be alone in each other’s company. Honestly, I don’t know if I could go back there now. Too many memories. Too many reminders.

Mark points across the room. The camera focuses in on a framed picture hanging on the wall, moving closer to make it out. It is a star map, showing the exact alignment of the stars in the night sky, in a specific place, on a specific date. The night Mark proposed to Amanda. The caption reads:

“One of the most magical times of our lives, always holding a special place in our hearts. No matter what, we’ll always have Iceland.”

The camera returns to focus on Mark.

The Dragon: We’ll always have Iceland right? Fuck sake. My divorce...it was a total surprise. I didn’t see that coming, maybe I was blind, maybe I was in denial...but the more I think about it, the more I realise there was probably nothing I could have done. Not without a complete shift in my lifestyle anyway, and that would have driven me mad. That would have made it worse, I reckon. It came maybe a few weeks before my star student busted her leg, just my luck. I planned to pour my time into her for a while, keep busy, stay distracted, avoid dealing with the feelings that came along with the bombshell Amanda dropped on me from a great height. After all that seems like the easy option right? Give yourself time to process from a safe distance away and it'll all come good won't it? There's one fatal flaw with that plan.

Mark takes another sip of coffee, again his eyes wandering around the home that had been his for a number of years already. He knew it like the back of his hand. Maybe that was the problem.

The Dragon: Faith's injury gave me more time, here, at home. Sitting on this very couch. I love this house. The vast kitchen where I’d cook up meals for our friends, or just for us, my fancy coffee machine, the hot tub, the pool. By Miami standards this is small fry, but it's still pretty big for one guy rattling around in it anyway. When Amanda and I were here there'd always be some kind of activity. Even if we were in different rooms there'd be music, or a TV, Amanda on piano or me on guitar. Pans being clattered ready for lunch or yet another espresso being brewed. The fact is running away doesn't save you. Coming back just envelops you in it. It feels like you've got yourself all pieced back together and then BAM you hear a song that reminds you of them on the radio. POW you open a wardrobe and see that old t-shirt of yours she always used to borrow. CRACK as you realise how much space that piano takes up when it's only going to collect dust and that bitter taste in your mouth as you try to learn to play it and you suck, and you know you suck because she tried to teach you once and DAMMIT this breakup stuff is overwhelming how could she DO this to me!?!

Mark takes a long pause, staring down into his mug.

The Dragon: But I got through it. Instead of moping around here I invested in...well...me. I got back in the gym and restarted my old training regime. I accepted more matches. I signed a contract, here with Sin City Underground and you saw what I did right? I just kept winning. I captured tag titles, and I won some more matches while I was at it. I built a winning streak that if it keeps on going at this pace will be coming on par with what you’ve achieved. One defeat on Climax Control huh? Well that’s a challenge, but we’ll come back to that shortly.

Mark takes another sip of coffee, this time shruging at the camera.

The Dragon: I guess for someone whose heart got broken into a lot of tiny pieces, you can say I've been pretty high-functioning? I mean - I still get the reminders of course, and I think I’ll continue to for a while longer...but they don't screw up my whole day. I can even smile and laugh at some of the fonder memories too these days. Walking back into my empty house and realising just how quiet it can be here doesn't derail me like it did for me a few months ago...and like it probably will for you...a few days before you get a chance to qualify for a World title shot.

Mark cracks a smile.

The Dragon: You know what I’ve learned out of this whole experience? I actually enjoy my own company, and that’s been pretty valuable. I mean, I’ve travelled alone a lot in the past, so I don’t know why it surprised me - It came up a few weeks back, I have a little team of people who move in the same circles as I do, and basically that’s just how we’ve worked. Sometimes the circle grows a little to mix someone else in, and I realised that none of them really NEED me to be a part of it. It’s a nice addition to have me, but the war machine would roll on whether I’m on board or not. I didn’t really know how to feel about that for a while. All these people, who I thought gave me a purpose? They were all actually fine on their own. The worst part is - I think they all knew it too. They had this contingency plan if I ever did decide to hang up my boots and leave the world of wrestling behind. Everyone had a backup but me.

The Dragon: It’s a whole lot more of a rollercoaster ride to just throw all of your eggs in one basket and hope for the best, right? I’m not like them. I don’t do things by half measures. There was maybe some concern from those closest to me that maybe I didn’t have the drive or the determination to do...this...anymore. When I signed to work some Sin City Wrestling shows - We all knew what that was supposed to be. Opening matches, fill in here and there, an experienced head to help keep things ticking over during roster refreshes, that kind of thing. The sort of thing a guy that’d been there and done that could probably do in their sleep. That would have been right up my alley. I could have hung out in Miami all week, ate good food, drank, trained lightly, if at all, flown into Vegas or wherever on match night, do enough to pick up my paycheck, probably still maintain a decent record against the rookies, the end. Easy life. Easy money.

The Dragon dusts his palm towards the camera as if he’s “making it rain”.

The Dragon: Now there are a lot of people that know me better than that, and the reasons we’ll come to in a minute, but I wonder how many of them were doubting whether I could still do this anymore - Challenge for a top championship, I mean. They all know I can do it. They’ve seen it first-hand, after all, but I made a choice a while back. I chose to put the career of a girl ahead of mine because the sky was the limit as far as her ability was concerned, and it felt like my duty to make sure I did everything I could to help her reach it. Maybe that came across as giving up in the eyes of some, but make no mistake - I didn’t take that decision lightly, and I didn’t plan on it being the end. I don’t have the same kind of backup plan as my friends. My backup plan is me. My emotional support when my separation hit me hardest? It cost me 80 bucks an hour, and in my head that is absolutely not sustainable. Not because the finances can’t handle that, but because I can’t be seen to rely on hired help. I need to be capable of digging myself out of holes. I need to be able to kick myself up the arse when I feel like I need it, and guess what - Those guys that don’t NEED me to be around? I don’t need them either.  

Mark finishes the last of his coffee, lowering the mug to the table in front of him.

The Dragon: In the NFL, I didn’t really belong. I played for a franchise where historically, and especially now, there was a lot of head-scratching going on as far as their recruitment process went. The fact they brought a Brit over to play running ack? The only more questionable thing there was how they’d failed so miserably to find players for my position that I even got the chance to earn the starting job in the first place! Besides, I was the wrong kind of hybrid. Too big to have the lightning speed that’s more common in the game today, not big enough that I’d keep running downhill with 4 guys hanging off trying to bring me down. Besides, I had really good hands for a back at the time. We were used less as receivers compared to now. It was tough to know what to do with me. I still got my numbers, but it never really was the right fit from minute one. And then wrestling came along. The usual happened - I got good practice then for what I still deal with now - He’s just a failed football player. There was a time some ten plus years ago when that was most definitely true as well. I was awful. The wins came from being able to soak up a beating for long enough, doing damage by any means necessary, and more often than not find my opponents getting tired before I did. That was tough, physically draining in the early days, but it worked. I’d get dragged into all-out BRAWLS with opponents. It was like a bar fight only it was 20 plus minutes long, and there was a referee at the end to hold your hands up in victory. If you were lucky you could even smack someone with a pool cue and avoid getting disqualified too. It was the start of a long road, and an eventful one, but it all came good in the end, kick-started nicely by my first trip to Japan.

Mark picks up the mug, remembers he’d drank all the coffee within, and lowers it back to the table, a little disappointed.

The Dragon: Here’s the thing Fenris - I don’t fear you. I haven’t checked my insurance policies in case I walk out with a little injury. Don’t take this as cockiness on my part, I know calling you a dangerous prospect is an understatement, but when the sport is punching, kicking and throwing an opponent around, who isn’t dangerous at the end of the day? I mean, all it takes is one lucky punch and it’s lights out for someone, right? What if he’s angry and takes it out on you? Well hey that’s possible, but it’s probably far less likely than the risk of you even turning up at all. That’s why I have to prepare myself for anything. Flight times to get myself a few days back home and be ready to train for my second round match in my own gym...or the Fenris with an eye-watering record that’s going to take some beating...or a slopp...sorry...angry Fenris who’ll throw the kitchen sink at me as soon as the bell rings, over-extending and leaving me opportunities left, right and centre? I don’t have a particular preference, honestly...but the biggest shame is if you pass up the opportunity to have this match.

Mark's arms outstretch at his sides

The Dragon: If you bring your A-game, this is a real acid test moment for me. Do I have what it takes to push into the upper echelons of the wrestling world once more, or is it going to be back to the drawing board for me. Having what it takes doesn’t mean hanging in there. It isn’t putting on a great show, getting close - It means victory. It means upsetting the applecart, overcoming the odds. Nobody expects ME to be the guy to break your winning streak. It’s not a complete no-contest, but the budget brand guy who’s already occupied with defending a title elsewhere making that happen? Don’t get me wrong, they’ll see what I’ve been doing lately and they’ll be thinking what if...but it’d definitely be a contender for upset of the year.

Mark scratches the back of his head.

The Dragon: How’s this for a scary thought - If I don’t advance in this tournament, I’ll be walking out of the arena KNOWING I need to get better. That's a scary thought for the guys already hoping to avoid me after my record so far.

Mark leans forward, lowering his voice.

The Dragon: Don’t think I won’t be coming back for a second shot when I’ve done that improving.

He drops back into the couch again.

The Dragon: The fans were deprived of the chance to see you take on Ben Jordan. That could have been an absolute CLASSIC. Both of you dropped the ball on that. That match is going to take some replacing - So how about you, putting together a run that any professional wrestler would be envious of and me, showing the early signs of something similar, make this something to remember.. That’d be a pretty decent consolation prize right? I’ll be ready to hold up my end of the bargain out there, and I sincerely hope that you will be in the ring prepared to do the exact same at Climax Control this week.

The scene fades to black.

 The scene opens to Mark "The Dragon" Cross who is fiddling about with a camera that is sitting far from a cinematic angle as he tries to get it straight-ish, using an app on his phone as a viewfinder. From the scene behind him we realise he is behind the wheel of a car, stopped at traffic lights, hence the bravery to whip out the camera.

oooooo you know those times when a senior member of staff tells you you're not booked…so you plan your life accordingly, including skipping out of the show early to hit up the beach party you were given the heads-up about…only to miss the part where the much more senior, much more big-bollocked member of staff to announces that you are indeed booked after all. And have a warm up match a week later. We've all been there right? Thought so.

Well, that's what just happened to me. My schedule is so effed that not even Bob the Builder could fix it, and that's why you're getting a GoPro balancing in a cup holder this week while I drive to training. Apologies for that everyone. Does that mean my preparation has been less than perfect? Yes. Instead of spending 4 hours in the gym, then 4 hours in the video room watching tape every day, protein shake in hand, I've just done the gym work. With a protein shake. Have I still trained harder than a lot of professional guys? Probably...but I don't know my opponent's game nearly as much as I would do at this point in time. It's not impossible, it's just...not ideal.

So instead...let's skip the part where I dissect my opposition like a chicken wing at a BBQ and talk about some sporting theory, as after all it's quite relevant. Look through history and you'll find that a vast majority, when they've earned their chops and get some level of control over their career often fall into the singles category, or they become tag team guys. Often the two will mix and mingle, but predominantly they have their safe zones and they stick to it.

Wrestling isn't the only sport to have "tag team specialists" or "lone rangers". Tennis is another great example...and when you dig deep into the psychological side of things, some just can't handle the heat of being the only guy, having nobody to blame but themselves when things don't go their way out there. They NEED the team environment to stop themselves from crumbling mentally.

Talking of nobody to blame but themselves...imagine the conversation I'll be having with myself about preparation if the result isn't positive...

But back to the point. I mean, there's a lot to be said for singles competition. You have nowhere to hide. No chance to take a breather, and nobody to help keep your weaknesses hidden. Not for long anyway. It's no surprise that wrestlers who excel in tag format can struggle when it's just them on one other. One of my oldest friends in the business for example, "Deadly" Devinee Delaney...she's had singles success, won titles, still has the potential to do it now...but she has her Plan A and she sticks to it. The predictability that can cause her problems goes away in a tag match - She only has to slap a hand to freshen it up. For her partners? They value her 10+ years as a full-time pro wrestler, and they can hang their hat on her consistent performances. As a tag team competitor she's the first name on the team sheet.

Let me clarify that there's nothing wrong with that. My first matches as a wrestler? I looked like a barroom brawler out there...and the thing is? I still got wins. I wouldn't have been exciting, but I could have carried on that way. I didn't have to go to Japan to learn Strong Style. I DEFINITELY didn't need to add the high flying elements. Boxing classes, MMA sessions...yoga. Don't ask...but I made a commitment at the very early stage to learn everything I could. To have every possible trick in my locker. One thing I had when I left the NFL was time. For Devinee? Wrestling needed to put meals on the table for her. She couldn't learn new things, she just had to get better at what she knew, keep on wrestling, and now she's so set in her ways that trying to shake it up too much? It'd do more harm than good.

Don't sell yourself short, stick to singles, people would tell me from all corners. You have all the tools. Same thing I said to Faith, my young protege, and while she still has a lot to work on in regards to plans B, C and beyond, the kid is so damn fast that it's a struggle for anyone to get hold of her long enough to need a backup...including me, and I've watched her in a wrestling ring virtually every day for the last 4 years...and yet here I am disregarding my own advice...

...because then we have the Fire Dragons. I've spoken about this before, the doubters, the countless number of friends, fans, writers who have come to me and asked why. Why are you lowering yourself to tag team competition, willingly, and why oh why did you choose Valentina? I'm not going to dwell on that too much, I've covered it countless times before...but essentially it's because it works. It had something from minute one, and it's still developing really nicely.

A good tag partner elevates the other. It all started out as a bit of a joke...but I had way more fun with it than I ever planned to. It made me stay on here in Sin City even after Faith's injury healed. It makes me hit harder. It makes me want it more. It makes me want to bring home the bacon...and how many comments fly around about the newer, more focussed Val. From has this girl really got it to worthy number one contender. To a champion.

I'm staring down the barrel of two great opportunities on one show, and I can see the headlines now...just how focussed will The Dragon be on his High Stakes match when he has the Double Down tag title shot to worry about too? I'm going to surprise you all and avoid the political answer. That is my main focus. If I have to choose, I choose that match. It means more to me to bring home a title for my team than it does for a big win against main show opposition. There, I said it. Cue my opponents writing off my chances. Type out your headline, golden opportunity wasted by Mark "The Dragon" Cross. Do it now...and while you do let me clarify for anyone still watching. 

I saw Mark Ward's press conference after Summer XXXtreme. Go back and watch that for context if you need to. Especially the part about the potential to win a World title in the future. For a start...it wouldn't be the first time...but let the words sink in. I appreciate the comments, the faith shown in me...and I hope that the consequences of my sloping off early to drink pina coladas after the last show doesn't dent that too much, but it highlights one thing.

A top ranking title? A huge chunk of any roster is automatically not worthy to challenge for it, yet. Others have the potential, but they don't train hard enough, they fail. Some do the hard work in the gym, but don't prepare their mind. A few are strong in body and mind but don't know how to handle an opponent tactically. Putting my name in contention for a shot at that belt elevates me to the Elite tier. That's not a statement for the body to make lightly. Will wrestling two big matches in one night be tough? Hell yeah it will. To any mere mortal that would be a worst nightmare. For a future World champion? It's the least Mark or Christian would expect.

I've beaten a Hall of Famer when I started the match with only one working arm. I've wrestled a match, sprinted to my car, driven to an airport, taken a 5 hour flight and defended a title. I've wrestled on no sleep. I've wrestled after being crammed on a bus for 8 hours. I've wrestled through muscle aches and pains and put in some of the best performances of my career. I have countless stories of success against pretty challenging odds. Wrestling twice in one night, in one of the most beautiful places on the planet? This isn't a job - It's just one hell of a good life to live.

Don't judge me on one performance. Don't write me off just yet. Bad days at the office happen in this game. Luckily, they're few and far between, and when "YOUR OWN STUPIDITY" and "WHEN THERE'S A PARTY INVOLVED YOU CAN'T EVER SAY NO CAN YOU?" are the reasons for a result, it's a pretty easy fix. I feel like I can probably adjust that before Honolulu. If my problem was "YOU. CAN'T. REVERSE. ANYTHING." then I think I probably have a bigger cause for concern.

Anyway guys, thanks for listening. Sorry this has been painfully short by my standards...I'm sure a lot of you will be glad of that...oh dammit…

The camera falls flat and we lose the sight of Mark's face for a moment. We hear the camera smack against the cup holder as a hand tries to adjust it, followed by a car horn, and some muffled swearing from the driver before The Dragon reappears. 

...but I'm almost at the gym, and I nearly just died a little bit trying to pick up this damn camera, so it's time to call this. I fully intend to come away with two wins out of two at High Stakes. Besides, what better way to scout three opponents than take a front row seat, am I right? This is playing right into my hands after all. By the way...I hope Pussy likes her gift…

The scene cuts to a dressing room door with Pussy Willow emblazoned on it. The POV style shot shows the door being pushed open, walking slowly to a large, wood-framed picture. As we get closer, it shows a preliminary copy of the High Stakes card. Mark Cross' name is highlighted in yellow, circled three times, underlined, and pointed to by a number of arrows of different styles and lengths.

The image cuts back to The Dragon, who grins awkwardly at the camera.

See you in the ring!!

 Monday 15th July 2019 – Somewhere in the desert…

The scene opens to an old abandoned warehouse out in the desert, complete with smashed windows, graffiti-soaked walls and the unmistakably eerie sounds of silence. We feel the slight camera sway as it moves in the direction of the building, one side of the shot filled by Dev Khatri, who can be seen walking gingerly towards the structure, clearly contemplating what poor life choices he’d made to put himself in this situation. As he and the camera make their way inside the gap where a sliding garage door had once been, he calls out into the abyss.

Dev: Dragon? You in here?

The Dragon: Hey Dev, thanks for coming.

The unmistakable British accent echoes around the desolate building from out of the darkness, almost booming as it rushes to fill the empty space.

Dev: Why are you in the da...not this again…

The Dragon: I left the night vision goggles at home, don’t worry, I just want to shoot a regular…

The camera is unmoving but the sound of crunching glass underfoot is heard as Dev Khatri disappears out of shot and makes a break for it, his voice trailing away as he opens up distance between the building and himself.

Dev: Hell no, I’m not paid enough for thiiiiiis…

The Dragon: Dev...mate...DEV! BIG D! Aww...is the cameraman still here?

Cameraman: Yeah, Dragon.

The Dragon: Cool. I mean, I guess I can make it work...

We hear a squeal of tyres from outside of the building.

Cameraman: Hey man, any chance I can catch a ride back with you after this? Big D just took my wheels...

The Dragon: Oh yeah, sure thing! Just make sure all this gets edited out for me yeah? Just make it seem like everything just went to plan.

Cameraman: Uhhh yeah, we can do that.

The Dragon: Cool. It’s just my first time on Climax Control, I want it to be perfect, you know?

Cameraman: Yeah sure thing man, start when you're ready.

Taking his cue, the silhouette of a man appears out of the dark, with each step it becomes clearer that the voice belonged to Mark "The Dragon" Cross, now officially enjoying his holiday from Sin City Underground. He is dressed in jeans and a Fire Dragons t-shirt.

The Dragon: I like to hang out in abandoned buildings sometimes. It's strange, I know, but I've made a habit out of being unorthodox, so you'll just have to go with me on this one. It's not about having a quiet place to think, as such…there are much better options for that…but more about a chance to reflect, to get some perspective on life and what’s truly important.

Mark takes a moment to assess the scenery around him, kneeling down to survey a few of the shards of broken glass laying on the ground.

The Dragon: Take the phrase "it's a house, not a home" and let's think about that for just a second.  I mean, what is a house anyway? Four walls and a roof...if you're lucky, of course. This old factory, four walls and a roof. A wrestling gym, an arena, that bar where you picked up a genuine 11/10 and took her home that one time when you were in Tulsa, different shapes, different sizes, different materials, but every time the same outcome - it's all just four walls and a roof. What makes them different from each other, and why do we place such importance in buildings in the first place?

Mark throws the piece of glass in his hand to the side, standing back up to his feet, taking another few steps closer to the camera.

The Dragon: Is it the people? The stories, the memories? Was it over in that corner where an employee lost a hand and changed the course of a life forever, or a Christmas party where two co-workers became romantically involved after a few too many drinks, went on to get married, maybe started a family...or is it just what you see in front of you now, bricks and mortar, an empty shell, a blank canvas. I feel like this place lost all importance when the company moved on to pastures new, maybe to come up in conversation here or there, but generally forgotten about, discarded and left to fall into an ever-worsening state of disrepair, potentially to never be restored back to its former glory.

He kicks out to the side, sending pieces of glass flying with a satisfying, high-pitched sound as they come to fall some distance away.  

The Dragon: I think about wrestling, this sport that consumed my life and comfortably filled the gap left by the end of my NFL career in pretty quick succession. I've met a lot of wrestlers, worked with them, fought against them, and it strikes me just how many of are just like this building. Hollow, empty, just going through the motions collecting pay check after pay check, putting themselves and their bodies through senseless punishment, anything to avoid having to take a "regular job" just to keep sticking it to their parents many years later…sometimes I think they force themselves to get up one more time in the hope I’ll hit them so damn hard that it’ll bring their whole life to an end I mean fucking COME ON have a bit of respect for yourself, seriously...

Mark smacked the back of his left hand against his palm, the sound echoing through the emptiness.

The Dragon: See, I vow to never be like one of these ruined, dilapidated old buildings. The very thought of having nothing to drive me, to inspire me, it makes me sick to the pit of my stomach. What I do means in this industry means something. My life has a purpose. It isn't just a job. It doesn't pay the bills. In fact, I didn't need the money from the very first time I laced up a pair of wrestling boots, yet it's still the reason I get up at 6am every morning for a run, or why I swallow down a foul tasting protein shake instead of bacon piled high on a stack of...well that's a lie I still eat pancakes on a Sunday...but those shakes taste HORRIBLE most of the time, even the 'coffee' flavour ones, I mean that's not like any caramel macchiato I've ever tasted, but still. I’m not living for the pay day. I’m living for the victory. That’s what gets my blood pumping.

We see the Brit take a moment to compose himself with a few deep breaths as he stares idly at the floor for a moment or two, his eyes returning back to the camera shortly after.

The Dragon: So what kind of win exactly, does it matter? That's the right question. I mean, so what if Team Eggplant think we're a bunch of nobodies from the lesser brand, they dropped their titles like a hot potato when all was said and done, why waste time on them anyway? Maybe they’re the nobodies now, the has-beens. Surely storming through the tournament is priority, hold the title myself, make them come and try to take it, shut them down then and prove to be the rightful champion. I mean, yeah I guess, but my crosshair is still locked on them, and it’s probably for the same reason I climbed in a ring with one working arm to face the guy that broke the other one...I won that match by the way...A lot of people say I've carved a career out of "upsetting the odds", but the trouble is, the odds have been upset so often in the last decade that it's not really a surprise any more, and where’s the fun in that? The Fire Dragons winning the Mixed Tag titles, given my history, that’s almost predictable. Let’s call it what it is, these days. I take just as much pride swooping in out of nowhere and royally fucking someone's day up, just because I can.

Mark shrugs at the camera, almost apologetically.

The Dragon: I was told by my ex-wife that I struggled to be emotionally available, believe it or not, which is probably part of the reason she's an ex in the first place, if we’re being honest. She misunderstood that part of me, and it wasn’t out of a lack of caring, or a lack of observation, but I work in a pragmatic way and would always jump to the practical solution, how could we make it better, rather than spend the time sitting with the feelings. For example, I watch Sierra Williams, she doesn't get the opponents she wants, she's angry and upset, and the last thing she wants is some practical thinker like me looking at the situation from afar and being all like "oh don't worry just train harder and win some more matches and stuff and you'll get there"

Mark steps closer to the camera, staring down the barrel of the lens, lowering his voice.

The Dragon: ...but the thing is, I do get how she feels, I completely do. I will emphasize with her and with Lachlan as they trudge off the ship, defeated, pushed even further back in their quest to recapture the tag team gold that they managed to let slip, every time the subject of concentrating on solo careers, maybe even a new place to ply their trade. I can picture it now. I'm feeling the feelings with them, I imagine how heart-wrenching that situation must be…and I'm doing it with a silly smirk on my face knowing that it was all my fault. Would I like to come over to the big show, win the tournament, take the Mixed Tag Team titles? Of course I would. Putting Kane and Williams in their place after writing us off? I think that means even more to me. You see, this is where my 110% comes from. Every match is important. I give every training session my all, and more often than not, that'll be enough to get the job done against most guys on most rosters. Any match is a must-win in my eyes, but some of them are more must-win than others. Title matches, that much is obvious, but a chance at revenge, even just the chance to shut up some kid who needs to talk less and wrestle more, that makes the victory taste so much sweeter. Every one makes me hit harder, or hoist higher, or dig deeper to get up and keep fighting on.

Again Mark steps closer to the camera, more fire in his eyes than on his “Fire Dragons” team shirt

The Dragon: Talent is just one small part in it. A lot of kids have talent. In Faith Simpson I've trained one for the last 4 years, show her a move once and she can execute it flawlessly, without really thinking about it, sickening really. I've fought many like her over the years, often it’s kids in bad situations who ride it just far enough to get out of where they're living, or the bad crowd they fell into, they start to get that big pay day...and then what? It becomes all about the cars and the fancy watches. That thing that drove them to eek out every bit of juice that their talent could muster suddenly goes away...as soon as they have the cold hard cash in their hands. I mean I get it; money absolutely buys you happiness, no matter what they tell you but it's not the best for making you come back for more.

I am the wrestling world's complete package. Peak physical conditioning. An unshakeable work ethic. Money didn’t change me. I've practiced every move in my locker hundreds, maybe thousands of times, and I've probably seen any situation you could throw at me in a ring just as many. I have a Plan A, a Plan B, a Plan C, and if those fail I'll just freestyle it until my hand is raised aloft in victory anyway. I have speed, power, agility, and I'm always working in the gym to try and unlock a little more. I may not be the most entertaining outside of the ring, but I'm one of the last anyone wants to face in it. Don't believe me? Watch a few matches. Look at my record. See who I've beaten, and in just how highly regarded a lot of the names on that list are in wrestling circles, then come back and challenge me on that. You know what my biggest dilemma is going to be in 2019? How the return to the Underground is going to happen when we're Mixed Tag Team champions over here. Double-shifts, anyone?

Mark raises his arms aloft, his head tilted, leaving the question hanging as the scene fades out.

Wednesday 17th July – Miami, FL

The scene opens to 'The Dragon's Lair', the Miami training base of Mark Cross and Faith Simpson, along with a rag-tag variety of grapplers that have also called the building home since it was opened four or five years ago. The building is well equipped with weight area, a full-size ring and punch bags of varying shapes and sizes. It is empty aside from Mark, stood in the centre of the ring and Faith, on the outside, leaning on one of the corner posts.

The Dragon: So...say Val's just smashed your face against the side of the ring...you're dazed...

Faith: She wouldn't.

The Dragon: Why not?

Faith: She’d never catch me. I'm too fast.

The Dragon: But what if she did?

Faith: Nope.

The Dragon: But what if she had to.

Faith: Not happening.

The Dragon: Ok who do you want it to be?

Faith: Ummmmmm...John Blade.

The Dragon: Greatest wrestler in all time and space, good choice. So…he smashes you face first into the ring...

Faith: Uh-huh...

Playing up to the part, Faith begins to stagger around, holding her forehead. Taking off at a fast run, Mark bounces off the ropes and charges towards the opposite apron, launching from one leg into a corkscrew flip to the outside...

Faith: Oh fuuuuu...

Faith suddenly gave up on the "dazed and confused" look when she saw her mentor, normally the epitome of solid technical wrestling rotating through the air towards her like your regular garden-variety adrenaline junkie. A split second later, she finds herself skidding across the gym floor from a perfectly executed hurricanrana, eventually rolling to a halt in front of one of the Lair's heavy bags.

The Dragon: You weren’t 2fast4that.

Faith: So...why would you ever need that?

The Dragon: You know I like backup plans! Plus you never know when you need to catapult an opponent on the outside into a barricade!

Faith: Gonna need them if you keep up this Fire Dragons thing...

The Dragon: Still not sold on Val then?

Mark reaches for his bottle of water and towel from the side of the ring. Dusting herself off, Faith walks over to join him.

Faith: Well...she's winning me over, I mean she's waaaaaaay better than I was expecting when I first heard your choice of partner, from what people were saying on forums anyway, I just...I dunno...

The Dragon: Wish you were out there instead?

Faith: Umm...kinda? I know it's what you told me to do, but I think I enjoy focussing on just singles anyway. Just seems odd seeing you out there with anyone else, especially when it’s not a superstar, leaves me wondering if I could have done better if you’re not winning every match?

The Dragon: I think that's natural, a bit of the fear-of-missing-out thing, even when you've got enough to worry about as it is? That's exactly how I feel when I can't make it to one of your matches.

Mark swats at Faith playfully with the towel.

Faith: Really? I can look after myself you know!

She responds by punching him on the arm.

The Dragon: Ow! Yeah, I know! Me too, doesn't mean it can't feel odd not being there.

Faith: ...yeah I guess you're right. Anyways, wanna go over this match footage then?

The Dragon: ...it still feels odd you going over my match footage...

The pair turn and start walking away from the ring and towards a side room. What had originally been an office had been kitted out with monitors and editing equipment for going over match footage. It was where wrestlers from ‘The Lair’ probably spent as much time as they did in the main gym, game-planning being key to their ethos.

Faith: Oh shush, how many times have you done this for me!?! I've got some really good stuff. You know they didn't even put their team name on the card?

The Dragon: ...they have a team name?

Faith: Have you done any research yet!?! It's Culture Shock.

The Dragon: Culture Shock, got it. Jack Asher lost to Lachlan Kane, can we start there?

Faith: One step ahead of you. If you want Kane and Williams, you can't lose to opponents they’ve already put away. If you guys don’t pick up the W here you may as well use the rest of your holiday to top up your tan. Or watch some of my matches.

Faith brings up the match from Climax Control 237 from back in May, which has already been edited down to the key moments.

The Dragon: Alright, point taken. How’s his mindset after the loss to Kane?

Faith: More fragile than normal, maybe. Looking at his comments on social media, he’s putting a lot of weight on Emmie stepping up to the plate and doing the job out there. Could also mean he’ll come out of the blocks firing to try and put you away, I mean even after the loss he doesn’t seem like a guy short on confidence.

The Dragon: Either/or, I can work with that.

Faith: Exactly – You know what Strong Style brings to the table, technical and powerful. If he comes after you, wait for him to overextend, and make it HURT.

The Dragon: And if he doesn’t, just go on the offensive anyway, pile on any feelings of doubt he had from that last loss and send him scurrying back to the corner, bring Emmie Ward into the picture. How does she match up against Val?

Faith: Ehhh…

The Dragon: Hit me with it.

Faith: Not that well, honestly. First, she’s going to be unpredictable. Emmie’s a speed demon. Compared to me? She’s almost half a foot shorter, she doesn’t have the same leverage, and her ground game is improving but still leaves a lot to be desired, so it’s not like she’s going to outclass either of you - Val’s got to get hold of her first, that’s the problem, and that’s the key match-up to this whole thing. If Valentina can keep her head and lay hands on Emmie, she needs to use her size advantage and do big damage. You know the haymaker knockout punch? That. But maybe with some kinda grappling move, ya know?

The Dragon: She’s hurting, in comes Jack Asher, probably frustrated that he has to bail out another failed partnership, over to me, ready to fight fire with fire. Plus, I had to deal with you at your most predictable, so if I end up in there against Emmie I should be able to follow the same game plan. Anything I need to worry about with Asher?

Faith: Talented amateur wrestling background, got good submissions, he’s the real deal and he’s championship quality, so don’t expect an easy ride with him but you’ve beaten so many guys like him in the past, this is no different. You’re not in a cage, it’s a tag match, and Val could break up a submission hold with Emmie hanging all over her there’s such a difference in height between those two. He’s going to struggle to use his strengths out there, just make sure it’s you vs him.

The Dragon: Think they’ll be prepared for us?

Faith: Judging by Twitter, I doubt it – It sounds like they think of you as two nobodies from the B show. Maybe that’s all part of the act, but if they have the slightest clue about what you’ve done in the past, they haven’t let on so far. Emmie’s too inexperienced to try and get by without a proper game plan, but she’s probably too green to know how to make one, and chances are Asher’s been so sick of her hanging around lately they won’t be hanging out together watching tape.

The Dragon: Got it. Thanks Faith, that’s a great start.

Faith: No worries! I’ll keep at it, see what else I can find.

Satisfied with the first video session, Mark steps up from the desk and heads to the doorway, making a few further strides along the wall before stopping, leaning back against the wall as he faces the camera.

The Dragon: This is going to be an interesting contest. I didn’t expect the red carpet to be rolled out for us as we fly the flag for Sin City Underground, far from it, and we will have to be on our game to bring the victory home for the budget brand, the B team, the nobodies, whatever derogatory term you want to call us. Jack the Gripper and Emmie the Kid stand in our way from a spot in the semi-finals, it’s a close call…but I’m confident we can bring this one home.

Mark taps the wall twice with his fist.

The Dragon: Emmie Ward…you remind me of someone. A lightning-quick high flyer, young, inexperienced, fresh to the sport, with a family name to live up to and a bit of pedigree to go along with that bloodline. Faith here came to me four years ago, a raw untapped talent, unbelievable levels of natural ability, she could flow through move after move on instinct, barely able to explain how she was doing the things that she was. To be honest, it didn’t matter half the time, she’d blitz through opponents before they could even manage to lay a finger on her. We didn’t need a game plan for her. Faith won her first match aged fifteen, her first title at sixteen, and she’s gone on to continue that success from then on. We train together virtually daily, we try and come up with new tricks every week to try and catch the other off-guard. Sometimes it even works. Faith’s quick to tell opponents that she’s “2fast4u” and you know what? Most of the time she’s right. It takes a lot of effort to lay a hand on her when she’s in full flight, but at least I can say I’ve had plenty of chances to practice, and plenty of times I can say I was fast enough to catch her.

Mark points a thumb in the direction of the video room he’d just left.

The Dragon: Faith? She’s four years further along the line than you are in your career. She knows what holding a title feels like. She knows how to defend one. She knows how to react when things aren’t going all her way, and she can adapt. She’s three, four years more technical. She’s years more physically honed to the rigours of the wrestling industry. I get it, you’re raw. You’re full of surprises, you’re unpredict…oh wait, you remember what I just said, about how you remind me of someone? It turns out, I’ve spent years preparing to face someone like you. I just didn’t know it yet. I don’t want to dismiss you out of turn, but you’re missing some tools that will come with time…and contrary to the belief of your teammate, you can’t carry the show against us.

Mark stretches out a little, feeling the effects of the training session.

The Dragon: So that brings me to Jack Asher. Don’t worry Jack, I won’t tar you with the same brush as most do, the pretty little rich boy that never had to work a day in his life. I know your four State championships won’t have come from fluke. You will have had to work hard, had the skills to back it up too clearly, and from everything that comes out of your mouth, we know you back yourself. That’s fair. Overconfidence? Probably. I don’t know if you know much about me…I don’t know if you even care, so let me give you a free pointer or two before we step into a ring together, in case you didn’t think me worthy enough to watch any tape of my matches.

The Dragon pushes himself up from the wall.

The Dragon: It’s guys like you that bring out my very best in the squared circle, you keep me honest. Trivia question while we’re at it - Which country in the world is responsible for the most sales of Mark “The Dragon” Cross merchandise. Is it here, in the United States, where I’ve spent the majority of my career? No. England, my home country? Guess again. Maybe Japan, where wrestling is considered a pure art form and the “showmanship” that we’re most known for in the US is frowned upon. Yup, the land of the Rising Sun. I say this, because you know ring craft. You can construct a match. You talk a good game, but you wrestle a better one, and so do I. Nobody likes a show-off, and most think I’m pretty boring, so we’re in the same boat there in our own ways.

Again, Mark steps closer to the camera, going for the big finish.

The Dragon: For the guy that likes to let his wrestling do the talking, I’ve had a lot of things to say this week huh? Well I guess it was important for you all to see what I’m about, to get an idea about how my mind works. Don’t worry, I fully intend to back it all up with a performance in the ring. If we were battling this out in five years’ time? Emmie, Valentina, Asher, they could all be world beaters, and I would have just hit my forties, maybe my powers would have started to diminish, I don’t know. Luckily for me, we’re wrestling this in the present day. Emmie’s entertaining, but she’s got too many rough edges. Valentina’s wrestling the best she ever has, proving doubters wrong wherever she goes. Jack Asher is a contender, but he hasn’t learned humility, and that attitude won’t get him anywhere. And me? I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been. I’m in my prime, I’m motivated, and I’m ready for anything that anyone in Sin City Wrestling want to throw at me. I’m not here for a long time, but I’m here for a good time, and I plan on getting off the boat undefeated in the main brand. Come at me – I look forward to seeing you all in the ring.

The scene fades to black