[J.A. Keys]

April 3rd, 2023.
Flannan Isle, Scotland

                                                                                                                       
 The scene opens on the green hills of Flannan Isle, the land curving away towards the sea in off to the far right. The angle and quality of the video are poor, like it's being filmed from a cheap Wal-Mart camera on a tripod on  unleveled ground. Or by someone who isn't good with technology.

A disheveled looking man walkes into frame, shaggy hair reaching down to his shoulders, off-white t-shirt drenched in sweat. A large albino Burmese Python- Bernice - wrapped around hi., Tongue flicking out towards the camera.

 :So. Sin City management gave me a call a few days back, said that they'd looked at my tapes and agreed to sign me. And my first show would be here in Scotland. And that I'd be facing a multiple time champion. He pauses, stroking Bernice's head, which the snake seemingly approves of.

So, right after I got the call, I booked my flight out here, and trust me, shipping three snakes and an RV to the UK is a hell of a lot harder than you'd think, Got called a 'Yank' by an older gentleman after asking for directions to the Island, then the Backstage Crew told me to Screw Off once I got here, even after showing them my I.D. And finally, It turns out I'm being booked against Alex. Rush. He'd been growing steadily more and more visibly angry as he spoke, eye twitching, smile feeling forced.

Bernice's head swiveled back, tongue flicking out into his face.with one hand he gently pushed the snake away.

But it's fine. Since my first day on the indies, since my first day of training-hell, back when I was still trying to persuade a school to take me in the first place- I've had to bust my ass off to get the same bare-minimum respect everyone else around me got when they signed with feds right out of their big-name, big-city schools. he takes a deep breath, and starts again.

And, y'know, I can feel it, how people look at me backstage over here at SCW. it's only been a few days, but they ain't hiding a damn thing around me. They think I'm too young to be in this company. They think I'm only here because of some kind of favor from someone backstage. he pauses again, and unwraps Bernice from his body, sliding the snake into a black cloth bag off screen. BUT EVERY DAMN THING I'VE HAD IN THIS BUISNESS IS BECAUSE I GET UP AT SUNRISE, AND WORK MY ASS OFF UNTIL DINSET EVERY SINGKE GODDAMN DAY. MONDAY THROUGH SUNDAY, WEEK AFTER WEEK AFTER WEEK, AND I STILL FOUND TIME TO TAKE THREE INDIE BOOKINGS EACH WEEK. AND I DID IT ALL BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE THIS BUISNESS, MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE. MORE THAN MY HEALTH, MORE THAN FINANCIAL STABILITY, MORE THAN I LOVE HAVING A PROPER FUCKING HOUSE. He sharply points off screen, presumably towards the RV hed been living in since flunking out of Highschool three years ago.

And now, I'm up against Alex-fucking-rush. A goddamn MUSICIAN that doesn't GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THIS BUISNESS, OR THAT RING, and treats every match like a joke. And they're out here parading him around like some five time world champion or some shit.

He stops shouting for a brief moment, catching his breath and checking on Bernice. He walks closer to the camera, leaning down into the lense, finally seeming to have figured out how camera angles are supposed to work.

Alex. I want you to get one thing through your skull, since I know you can't be bothered to watch the full video. I don't care how many titles you've held here. You won't out-wrestle me. You won't out grit me. And BY GOD YOU WILL NOT HAVE MORE HEART THAN ME.

His hand hovers off to the side of the camera. For those of y'all who don't know me, the names Jack Grey, and you will remember me by Sunday.

There's a muffled sorry 'bout the yelling baby off screen, and the camera switches off.