[Mark Ward]

 All roleplays for this match go in this thread.

Limits: 1 roleplay per week, per character. 10,000 word limit.

Good luck!

[Jack Russow]

 (“All I Want” by A Day To Remember is still faintly playing out in the arena as Jack Russow comes stumbling back through the curtain holding his chest with both hands. He stumbles down the stairs and collapses on the ground, leaning up against a production box as a few people come by to congratulate him. He cracks a sideways grin like his father always does and slowly pulls himself back up breathing heavily still holding his chest. It’s not long before his girlfriend, Alanah O’Connell flies into frame wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. He gingerly winces as she backs up.)

Alanah O’Connell: ...how bad is it?

(Jack moves both hands to show that his chest is no longer it’s usual bronzed color, it’s now bright red, bleeding, and resembling that of thawing hamburger meat. Alanah’s hands cusp her mouth as Jack, struggling to catch his breath, sees the camera nearby.)

Jack Russow: I...I want each and every...one of you. To take a look at this. GET A SHOT OF THIS!!!

(The camera zooms in on Jack’s chest, nearly caved in by the massive, hellacious chops by Erik Kuttner as Jack wipes away a trickle of blood and looks at it glistening on his hand as he shows it to the camera.)

Jack Russow: You think I haven’t paid my dues? YOU THINK...I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M IN FOR!? Nah nah nah...I just showed you...I just showed the WORLD. That I am almost always...OUTSIZED...I’m almost always...OUTMATCHED...but I am NEVER...OUTWORKED. So each and every one of you...you hear that reaction out there?

(They are still showing replays out in the arena of the match as the fans are still chanting “JACK! JACK! JACK!”)

Jack Russow: That is REAL...THAT...is what I  FIGHT FOR!!! I fight...for each and every single one of you...that has been told “no”. I fight for each and every one of you that have been told “you’re too small”...”you’re not TALL enough”...”you’re NOT. GOOD. ENOUGH.” Born in privilege though I was...I was still criticized and ostracized…”you’ll never be as good as your dad”...”you’ll never be as good as your MOM”...”you’ll never be as good as your Uncles”...”you’re BARELY a Russow”! Understand...I am not HERE...to be the NEXT…”Great Russow”...I’M here...to be the first JACK Russow! And YOU...haven’t seen ANYTHING...like ME!!!

(Jack turns and puts his arm around Alanah walking off down the Hall)

-A FEW DAYS LATER-

(Jack winces as he struggles to bend his waist to get outta bed...he finally manages to swing his legs over the side and kinda thrust himself up...we see his chest has turned from just red to an almost beautiful display of red, purple, green, and yellow. He walks over and looks in Alanah’s vanity mirror gingerly touching his chest.)

Jack Russow: I look like a Goddamn Van Gogh painting…

Voice: ...as pretty as one too!

(Jack turns his head to see Alanah walk into the room as she walks up to him and gently wraps her arms around his waist kissing his shoulder.)

Jack Russow: Memo to self...if a big-ass German rears back...learn how to DODGE, amiright?

Alanah O’Connell: I’m so very proud of you…

(Jack turns and pulls her in closer kissing her forehead and hugging her tightly. They lean back pressing their foreheads together.)

Jack Russow: ...I have a bad feeling.

Alanah O’Connell: About what, mo chroi?

Jack Russow: I don’t know...I just have this nagging feeling that things are about to get hectic.

Alanah O’Connell: I would imagine...you’re working in two companies at once.

Jack Russow: No it feels...more than that.

(Jack’s phone suddenly goes off as he pulls away to check the text message informing him of his next match and once he reads it...his face drops completely.)

Jack Russow: ...and there it is.

Alanah O’Connell: What, babe? What’s wrong?

(Jack takes a deep breath and shows her the text message…)

*Congrats on the win. You made it onto My Bloody Valentine 3.
#1 Challenger Roulette. Triple Threat. Roulette Rules.
You’re facing Chris Crippler and-*

Alanah O’Connell: ...Malachi.

Jack Russow: Malachi.

(Alanah looks up from the phone to the stone gaze on Jack’s face...they knew SOMEDAY they would collide, but now...when they were just starting to warm up to each other…)

Alanah O’Connell: It’s okay. We’re professionals. This is what we do. You, him, and Crippler...whatever happens, happens. But please...PLEASE try not to get too carried away, mo chroi.

Jack Russow: I’ll show as much restraint as I can, my love. But I’ll tell you this now...I know how he fights, YOU know how he fights...this is gonna be intense. It’s gonna get rough. There’s still just...this tension between us whenever we’re near each other.

Alanah O’Connell: *sigh* I know, love...just…

(Jack walks over and lifts her chin kissing her.)

Jack Russow: I got this.

(Alanah cuddles against his chest again, her face heavy with concern as Jack looks out the window with a silent intensity...he didn’t wanna upset her…)

...but shit happens.

“I...won’t back down…
I WILL not bow…
(I’ve come to bring you Hell)
And I can’t forget…
The things you did.

-...I’VE COME TO BRING YOU HELL.-

(The scene opens back up with Jack Russow sitting in the middle of a sweat-stained ring looking around the warehouse converted into a wrestling gym...ran by his father, The (One TRUE) Iceman Levi Russow. Giant banners hang on the wall of the successful wrestlers who have made big names themselves in various places like the Russow’s home of PWS: Apex and even some from SCW. He looks around at the banners of Miles Kasey, Bella Madison, and even his own girlfriend, Alanah O’Connell. They’re intermingled between banners with big pictures of his family beaming down at him. Levi Russow, Emma Russow, Cameron O’Neil, Daniel Russow, Jesse Russow, even Slappy McGoo.)

Jack Russow: ...helluva sight, isn’t it? Welcome to The Russow Complex. Hasn’t been around all that long, if I’m bein’ honest. Dad only JUST retired and even then...you know how retirement goes in this sport. He’ll probably get the itch again and pop up somewhere, I don’t know...that’s not MY problem anymore. I did my part. I won him back from The Darkest Carnival and put that miserable sonuvabitch, sorry…”The Reverend Synister” back in his feeble, frail little hole.

...I did that.

Jack Russow: That was my first TECHNICAL “win” but if any of you saw it...and I’m certain you didn’t ‘cause why would you...it was a fix. I admit that. But I was still the one to step up, walk into that Godless carnival, and lay down the challenge. And then my second match? My aunt’s brother kept distracting the dude and I capitalized. I wasn’t proud of it...that wasn’t how I wanted to win...but I needed all the momentum I could. But after that?

...I...was a joke.

(Jack swings his legs in crossed style as he runs his hand along the mat.)

Jack Russow: See the fans...have been MORE than amazing to me. Far better than I deserve. But to every wrestler in that locker room...I was a sham. Two matches and I had help winning both of them? Nah...I knew it then. I knew I HAD to branch out and EARN respect. I had to go somewhere...where my last name meant NOTHING. Sure...it’s been tossed around SCW a couple times by the announcers but let’s be honest! You people don’t know me from Adam! And why would you? What...have *I* done? Look around...what DON’T you see?

(The camera pans around the warehouse looking at all the banners again and it’s noticeable...there’s one gaping hole next to the banner of Levi. Other than that...there was no banner for Jack. Jack points to the hole.)

Jack Russow: That’s me. That’s...where I’M supposed to be. So why aren’t I? Because...I haven’t EARNED it, yet. Bella earned hers by blasting my father in the face with a chair when he lost his damn mind and never backing down from anything after that. You all know her tenacity...that’s why she’s facing Candy for that title. Miles Kasey earned his by becoming the PWS: Apex United Champion and holding it for 138 days...RIGHT after he graduated from this gym. And Alanah? I’ll tell you right now...Alanah is the best O’Connell in professional wrestling right now. I don’t care that Malachi has a Heavyweight title right now...Alanah CRUSHED training...and as soon as she did? She ENDED Miles run as United Champion...she still holds it now. But here’s the thing…

(Jack lays back and kips up walking over to a turnbuckle leaning his forearms across the top as the camera shoots him from the floor.)

Jack Russow: NONE of that...means a damn thing to any of you. So why would I go to the trouble to say it? I’m giving you a little bit of insight as to what is driving ME now. Because you see...last Climax Control. I stepped into a foreign ring...BY MYSELF...and I will admit! I got the ever-loving SHIT chopped out of me. I’m still feeling that beating Erik Kuttner laid on me.

...but.

Jack Russow: How’d it end? Does anyone remember? I do...I Cut The Cord on him. See that’s what I call that super badass submission I’ve worked out. You just wait though...I’ve got SO much more to show you. I’m gonna show each and every one of you EVERYTHING. I tapped that big sonuvabitch out! And I punched my card...to My Bloody Valentine 3. Because I EARNED it!!!

(Jack slides under the bottom rope but sits on the apron looking a bit confused.)

Jack Russow: Guys, I’ll be honest with you...I’ve...NO fuckin’ clue what “Roulette Rules” are or how the Roulette Title even works. But here’s the thing...I don’t CARE. I assume I spin a wheel and it says something like “fight the entire match from your knees” or whatever bullshit like that and STILL...I DON’T...CARE. Because no one...NO ONE...wants to win this one more than me. I HAVE to.

(Jack cracks his neck and gets lost in thought for a moment before he starts chuckling to himself as he continues…)

Jack Russow: ...how much of a name would I make for myself if I were the one to finally put Chris Crippler out to pasture. See I was raised to always “respect your elders” but there’s one TEENSY conflict of interest in this case, Mr. “Crippler” IF that is your real name WHICH. I. DOUBT!

(Jack smashes his fist on the apron lightening the mood a bit before cracking the signature grin and continuing.)

Jack Russow: You have had...SUCH a spectacular career, haven’t you. How many titles have you held in your illustrious career, Double C? Hmm? How many injuries have you overcome...how many injuries have you INFLICTED? There's an entire biography behind those cold, dead eyes that I want to know. But I’m not much of a reader and you’re standing in my way so I’m gonna play that audiobook and listen so intently with every panicked scream escaping your body when I twist your joints and crack your marrow in ways not even YOU have endured before. The first piece of information I got before my first real match was to always have a stone cold “Poker Face’ and never let your enemy know what you’re gonna aim for. Yeah, yeah...I know. But we’ll call it even. I’m a struggling learner and you’re a hard study...it’s gonna be fun clashing with you. But I will do you the favor of letting you know my initial game plan now...I am taking you out...as quick as I can. Because you are the unwanted third wheel on a runaway train that’s been bound to collide for over a year now.

(Jack looks at the banners of Alanah and Bella and gets a sort of remorseful look on his face…)

Jack Russow: ...D’you know what it’s like to be damned if you do, damned if you don’t? See because even if I win this match, and believe me I WILL. I’ll have lost another battle. Alanah is the undisputed, absolute love of my life...and she’s Malachi’s sister. And Bella! Bella and I grew UP together...she used to watch out for me backstage to make sure I didn’t get into too much trouble...fat load of good THAT did, she was just as much trouble as ME. And when your parents are travelling the world nonstop...just ruthlessly BASHING each other’s heads in. You don’t really get a stable “home life”. It wasn’t like they had anywhere to just drop their kids off at and NOT see them for months at a time. So...they took us with them. We were tutored together...she was a couple grades ahead of me. She was always the smart one...she’s my best friend. When you’re jetted around the world together with no other kids to play with or bond with, you just naturally get closer...and then she left...she went to school in Paris after I chose Alanah…

...and that’s when she met...him.

(Jack kinda snarls a little bit before taking a breath and regaining his composure.)

Jack Russow: Since DAY. ONE. Malachi was nothing but a smart-ass, beef-starting, irritating, sniveling little asshole. He only started pursuing Bella because he knew...it was pissing us off. How were we to know that Bella would connect with him back and he GENUINELY fell for her. But still...STILL...that ENTIRE TIME. “Shitheel” this and “Cockknuckle” that! Just SPEWING the most vile, detestable, irritating, personally attacking, INTENDED bullshit. ANYTHING his weird, alien-ass shaped head could concoct! But I tried...I TRIED to break bread with him...to make PEACE with him. But no...the little prick couldn’t let himself seem WEAK could he!? I mean after ALL! He was living in Lachlan’s shadow!

...he was the silver place...yet again.

Jack Russow: See, for as angry as he is, for as irritating as he is, for as smart-assed, arrogant and blase’ as he is...Malachi’s problem, aside from a Napoleon complex, is that until Bella let him in...he has NEVER...been anyone’s first choice. Technically if you think about it he wasn’t even BELLA’S first choice...so he’s like, the BRONZE medal in that place. It went me...then Miles for a little bit because I fuckin’ hated him too and she thought hanging out with him would get under my skin...and THEN Malachi, who she started hanging out with because she knew THAT one would REALLY get under my skin. And it worked, Bells! Oh God it worked in spades but up until NOW...I’ve played nice...for your sister and your mother’s sake.

...your Ma says “Hi”, by the way...did you know telephones do more than play games and text? You should try it sometime.

Jack Russow: But I digress! That was neither here nor there, no...that was a blatant cheap shot. And I’m sorry for that. I’m better than taking the low road...which is more than we can say for dear, sweet, sacrificable Malachi. You stole...my best friend. The relationship between me and Bella hasn’t been the same since you poisoned it with your rat-like persistence. And NOW...you’re bonding with my OTHER best friend because he gutted you in a deathmatch!!!

...so that’s it?...THAT’S the key?

Jack Russow: ...I guess it makes sense. You and Lach have tolerated me up until this point...I guess it’s, as my boy Mack McKane would say, “an’ Irish tradition, innit?” If the way I’ve treated your sister and your mother hasn’t earned me a modicum of respect with you? Then I can’t WAIT for this match…because whether it’s YOU...or Chris Crippler…

...I’M just gonna have to beat the respect INTO you...see you soon. We’re JUST getting started.

(Jack winks at the camera as he hops of the ring and walks out of the warehouse.)

[Lachlan Kane]

 February 5
Brooklyn, New York

The night air was frigid on Malachi’s skin as he walked up to the brownstone apartment where his older brother Lachlan lived. He rubbed his freezing hands together before he pushed the button on the keypad next to a label bearing the name O’Connell, L. He only had to wait a moment before the buzz let him know that the front door was unlocked for him to enter the building. He made his way to the bank of elevators and pushed the up button, and the doors slid open almost immediately. He pressed number 12, and waited quietly as the elevator ascended to the desired floor. Once the doors opened, he took a left and walked down to the end of the hallway, stopping in front of a plain brown door marked with 1219. He was about to raise his hand to knock when the door opened and he saw Lachlan standing on the other side.

“Jesus hell, Lach,” Mal said incredulously. “You look like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.”

Sure enough, his older brother looked worse for wear, sporting a thick layer of stubble on his cheeks and chin, his eyes were sunken and somewhat bloodshot, and his hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in days. It also didn’t help matters that he was dressed in ragged grey sweatpants and a faded black T-shirt.

Lachlan managed a wry smile. “Nice to see you too, Mal.” He stepped aside to let the younger man into the apartment, closing the door and walking into the small kitchen area. He grabbed a bottle of Jameson resting on the counter and pulled two glasses down from the cupboard, pouring a generous amount of alcohol in each before sliding one down to Mal. The brothers touched the rims of their glasses together before slugging half the contents down in one swallow.

“So, you’re gonna go home for a while?” Mal said.

Lachlan gave a small nod. “My head hasn’t been right since December. I let that damn loss get right under my skin. I just…” He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I’ve never been this far off my game before. The one thing I pride myself on is my ability to come back from a loss better and stronger than before. But lately...I just feel like things haven’t been coming together. And I haven’t been handling it the right way. I’ve been lashing out, being a right prick to just about everyone…”

“So basically, you’ve been acting like me?” Mal said, with a smirk.

Lach let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. But that ain’t me. I knew that...and yet, I couldn’t stop myself.”

They were quiet for a moment as they both took another drink. “Everything OK with you and Sierra?” Mal asked.

“Yeah, though she’s been tearing a strip off me for all this crap too. It was actually her idea for me to go home for a few days. She figures since I didn’t have a match at My Bloody Valentine, it would do me good to take a breather.”

Mal’s face contorted into a sneer. “Don’t remind me about that shit,” he growled.

“Mal...don’t start,” Lachlan’s tone was placating as he attempted to calm his brother. “Mark and Christian were just doing what they thought was right-”

“Fuck ‘em both! I’ve got half a mind to tell those two shitheels where they can shove their fuckin’ match!”

Lachlan put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Mal, don’t be stupid and blow this chance for yourself! Look, maybe they were right not putting me in this match. My head’s just not in it right now.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t have to go and be fuckin’ dicks about it in the match card.”

Lachlan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have this opportunity. They could have easily said ‘fuck it’ and blacklisted the both of us from this place. But they’re giving me a blessing in disguise and they’re giving you the spotlight that you deserve. Take this chance and run like hell with it.”

“...even if it’s against Jack?”

Lachlan smirked a little. “Come off it, I know you’ve been itching to get your hands on him since the day he and Alanah got together. Just...don’t rough him up too much, alright? Not only would you have Alanah on your ass, but I can’t imagine Bella is too pleased about this match herself. Keep it professional.”

Malachi gave a roll of his eyes. “Way to go and ruin all my fun.”

The brothers cracked a grin as Lachlan poured them both another drink.

------

Later that night
Manhattan

Sitting at a table in the back of the room away from the rest of the patrons, Malachi took a drink of the beer in front of him. He had just left his brother’s place about an hour ago, but instead of heading back home to his shared apartment with Bella, he stopped off at a local bar in the neighbourhood. The conversation he and Lachlan had was still rolling around in his mind, and it made him think of his upcoming match at the My Bloody Valentine pay-per view. He was glad that he was getting this opportunity…

He just never wanted it at his brother’s expense.

And of course, there was the matter of his opponents. Or rather, one in particular. Jack Russow...who happened to be the boyfriend of his only little sister. The two men had pretty much been at each other’s throats in some way shape or form for the majority of the year-plus that Alanah and Jack had been together. Though as of late, things had seemed to cool off between them, ever since a certain series of events in a separate company. But now, the two men were on a head to head collision course...with a third wheel, mind you.

Even with the addition of Chris Crippler (who, in his eyes, was a complete non-factor), Malachi knew that this match was going to be a real test of the bonds of their little group. Both Alanah and Bella would no doubt be cheering for their respective loves...so what would that possibly do to their own friendship? And, while Mal had never really come right out and said it, he was starting to begrudgingly accept the fact that Jack was going to be a part of his sister’s life for a long time...which meant, by proxy, his own life as well.

Things could never be simple, could they? Once upon a time, he could just show up for a match, beat his unfortunate opponent to within an inch of his life, and not have to deal with all these conflicting emotions roiling around in his mind. He scowled as he polished off the last of his beer, slamming the glass down on the wooden table top.

“So, the little daddy’s boy has finally ‘cut the cord’, has he? Finally decided to man up and see what the big bad world was really like?” Mal let out a bitter laugh. “You thought you were gonna come waltzing in here, playing this whole ‘aw shucks, I’m just trying to make a name for myself’ schtick, completely glossing over the fact that despite your claims to the contrary, you already have a leg up around here. There’s not many people in the wrestling world that don’t know the name Russow. You were blessed with a last name that is practically synonymous with wrestling. And while you may want to try and stand on your own merits from here on out, you still come with the knowledge and the bloodline of a wrestling dynasty. You have an advantage that most people in this industry would kill for. You were raised in this business. You are more intimately acquainted with the ins and outs of this industry than most of us could ever dream of being. And through it all...you had dear old daddy showing you the ropes.”

He glared icy daggers towards the camera with his blue eyes. “Must be fuckin’ nice. Must have been nice growing up under the shadow of a legend, knowing that one day everything the light touched would be your kingdom. Me? I had to scratch, claw, bleed, and break myself for years before I even got a sliver of the recognition that you get to enjoy right now. I’ve been busting my ass in this industry for ten years now, and it’s only been this past year that I’ve even got to make it to a company that travels around the world. That I’ve finally gotten to enjoy the feeling of being a World Champion. And yet...all I still hear about is the fact that Daddy’s little prodigy is all grown up and striking out on his own. You may have gotten lucky in your match against that sideshow freak who’s probably ‘swallowing swords’ in some back alley right now, but I know that you know that I’m not some opening act. I’m a goddamn main event player. I’m coming into this match with one thing in my mind - to get that opportunity at the Roulette Title. And I’m not going to let you get in my way.”

“And as far as you’re concerned, Crippler? I’ve beat your ass once before, and I’m damn sure going to do it again. I’ll make sure that by the end of this match, you’ll be changing your name to Chris Crippled.”

With a final glare to the camera, Malachi picked up his empty glass and stormed off, leaving the camera focused on the empty seat as the scene faded out to black.

[Jack Russow]

 (Jack walks into the bedroom of his apartment and throws himself on the bed covering his face with his hands as Potato raises his head from the pillow, gruffs, and rolls over going back to sleep but immediately...Pip the Papillion instantly bolts onto Jack’s chest, spinning in a circle and lying down as Alanah O’Connell walks out of the bathroom being flanked by her dog, Lady as she flops on the bed, her head next to Jack’s as they stare at the ceiling.)

Alanah O’Connell: Love, don’t take this the wrong way but...ya look like a lost little kid at an amusement park.

Jack Russow: It’s just so much...PRESSURE. All the texts, the calls, the congratulations and adulations...it was all great. But that was an opponent that didn’t have his heart into it. But THIS time? Chris Crippler, as best I can TELL, is just a cranky sonuvabitch that would rather break your bones than have a cuppa with you.

Alanah O’Connell: Awww you used “cuppa” right! I’m so proud of you! We’ll have you learning Gaelic next!

Jack Russow: ...and yet more pressure I did not need!

Alanah O’Connell: Sorry, mo chroi.

Jack Russow: It’s okay...it’s just...your BROTHER. I knew I’d have to square up with one or the other sooner than later but I was kinda hopin’ it was the one that KINDA approves of me instead of the one that has wanted nothing more than to tear my head off!

Alanah O’Connell: Love, it doesn’t matter if they accept you or not...I love you. And there’s nothing they can do about that.

Jack Russow: And you know you’re my entire world and I could never let go but...it’s this weird macho bullshit...like they don’t have to ACCEPT me but I need to know they RESPECT me.

Alanah O’Connell: Well think of what they just went through! They just RECENTLY had it out with each other to come to terms with the past...let them bond as brothers first befor-

Jack Russow: ...oh my God…

Alanah O’Connell: What? What’s wrong?

(Jack sits up and stares into the mirror and scowls at what he sees as Alanah sits up resting her head on his shoulder.)

Jack Russow: ...brothers.

Alanah O’Connell: Yeah?

Jack Russow: ...I...I feel like I gotta do something...and I’m gonna need a favor…

Alanah O’Connell: ...why do I feel an adventure coming on?

(Jack looks at the camera and winks as the scene changes)

-RUSSOW MANOR-

(The car pulls up and Jack steps out of the driver’s seat as Alanah gets out of the passenger seat...and their artists/seamstress extraordinaire Mattie Cormier steps out of the backseat bouncing happily almost giddy with anticipation...they start walking up the steps but before they can even get to the door it has FLOWN open as hard as it can and standing with her arm leaning against the frame with the back of her hand resting on her little forehead with her hips cocked to the side...stands Jack’s little sister Rosie...the dramatic actress of the pair of twins.)

Rosie Russow: UGH...well I’m HERE...how can I help yo-

Mattie Cormier: ROSIE!!!

(Rosie suddenly throws her back against the door frame and covers her mouth with both hands and lets out the weirdest shriek of happiness on an octave pitch normal human ears aren’t prepared to hear.)

Rosie Russow: OH. EM. JEEPERS!!! IT’S MATTIE CORMIER IN THE FLESH!!! Oh dahling it is simply RAVISHING to see you! Oh my stars! My Alanah is here too!? Is it my birthday!? Make sure the cake is gluten free...I’m not certain I have a problem with gluten but I will NOT outgrow my wardrobe!!!

Mattie Cormier: M’Lady I believe...I could be of some use with that!

(She looks over her shoulder and stands with the most sullen, broken expression on his face...stands Mack McKane...arms overloaded with rolls of fabric and a picnic basket of utensils. Rosie actually starts to tear up.)

Rosie Russow: You-...I-...OH YOU ANGEL!!!

(Rosie forgets her cadence for a moment and absolutely flings herself into Mattie’s arms as Alanah huffs playfully like she’s jealous as Rosie reaches over from Mattie’s arms and pulls them both into the biggest three way hug you’ve ever seen.)

Rosie Russow: God. has. Hand-picked. THE. BEST. role models. For me!!! LADIES...TO THE THEATRE!!!

(Rosie hops down grabbing both of their hands and absolutely powerhousing both of them into the house and up the stairs as Mack stands by Jack…)

Mack McKane: ...I hate you.

*From a Distance* Mattie Cormier: MR. MCKANE, WE REQUIRE OUR MATERIALS!!!

(Mack turns and grumbles under his breath stomping up the stairs as Jack smiles happily watching them all go bond...but his aim was on one person...and sure enough, he turns and looks into the den where Rosie’s twin brother Charlie sits with his face hiding behind a book. Charlie is IMMENSELY intelligent for his age...he’s immensely intelligent PERIOD. And that separates him from other kids his age. He has no interest in playing or sports or television...he just...reads. Jack walks over and read the outside of the book Charlie is working on.)

Jack Russow: “Sea Turtles: A Complete Guide to Their Biology, Behavior, and Conservation.” by James Spotila...uhh...good read there, Chuck?

Charlie Russow: ...my name is Charlie, brother. I would hope you of all interactors in this family would care to remember that but I suppose I’m repressed once more.

Jack Russow: Hey man, c’mon...it was just a joke.

Charlie Russow: Yes, infantile exacerbations mining for guttural advances of joy seem to be a prominent theme in this family. I’m afraid I don’t share the genome.

Jack Russow: Hey...dude, just put down the book for a minute.

(Charlie sighs and closes his book sitting it off to the side, turning and looking at Jack...Jack had never noticed that his eyes were a striking green but the left one had a glimmer of gold running through the upper part of the iris.)

Jack Russow: Woah dude! I never noticed your eyes before!

Charlie Russow: ...there’s much you and dare I say, many of them have not noticed. It’s a minor genetic flaw, nothing mo-

Jack Russow: Don’t do that.

Charlie Russow: I...I’m sorry?

Jack Russow: Don’t ever call yourself a “flaw”...it’s a characteristic. It’s special. And trust me, you ARE somethin’ special. What grade level are you reading at now?

Charlie Russow: “Officially” I’m not allowed to surpass the 10th grade reading level...simpletons.

Jack Russow: ...and unofficially?

Charlie Russow: I’ve delved into popular territories and dabbled in the macabre and followed the trail to the informative so...I’d say...actually, now that I think about it...I don’t know HOW to classify it. I’ve read everything from Sun Tzu to Descartes to Faulkner to Bukowski...I’ve traversed with The Alchemist and I’ve hunted Moby Dick. I do enjoy the classics…

Jack Russow: ...but sea turtles, huh?

Charlie Russow:Chelonia mydas. I find them fascinating...their genetics, their diet, how they coalesce with violent predators all around them.

Jack Russow: ...c’mon...get your coat.

Charlie Russow: Wh-

Jack Russow: Trust me.

(Charlie looks at him confused and reluctantly...before going to his room and collecting his coat and following Jack out the door.)

-LITTLE WONDERS-

“Our lives are made…
Of these small hours.
These little wonders…
These twists and turns of fate…
Time falls away.
But THESE small hours…
THESE small hours…
...still remain.”

(We open to see the interior of the Sand Shark, Rays, and Turtles exhibit at the New York Aquarium. Jack walks with his hands in his pockets behind a, for once, actually engaged and active Charlie darting back and forth classifying every creature he sees.)

Charlie Russow: AND THAT ONE THERE! THE ODONTASPIDIDAE!!! LOOK at it! Just LOOK! It swims with it’s mouth open! Their teeth are long and needlelike to impale fish and keep them from escaping! I’ll BET that’s Axl!

(And all of a sudden Charlie lets out a massive gasp as a MASSIVE turtle swims into his line of sight as he leans forward touching the glass as she approaches near him.)

Charlie Russow: *in a whispering voice* ...LUCY.

Jack Russow: Uhhh...Lucy?

Charlie Russow: She’s a hawksbill sea turtle weighing around 200 pounds of pure battering ram power! See her beak? It’s razor sharp and there have been MULTIPLE stories about her taking chunks out of the coral decor and even a couple trainers! She is MAGNIFICENT!!!

Jack Russow: O...kay…

Charlie Russow: LOOK OVER THERE!!! IT’S YELLOW!!!

Jack Russow: ...there’s a turtle named Yellow?

Charlie Russow: He’s a MASSIVE 340 pound Loggerhead! Y’know most people believe that sea turtles are just slow and lazy...I blame Pixar...but they can POWER through the water and LOOK! LOOK LOOK LOOK!

(A massive roughtail stingray swims overhead with a significantly stumpier tail as Charlie follows it with his finger.)

Charlie Russow: THAT’S RAY CHARLES!!! LOOK BROTHER, YOU CAN TELL BY THE TAIL!!! They said they believe Yellow got sick of poor Ray swimming in his way too many times and he kept biting his tail so they had to amputate! WOW!!!

(Jack walks over and puts a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. And he leads him over and sits him down. Charlie suddenly gets a curious look on his face.)

Charlie Russow: ...you know nothing of these creatures...do you brother?

Jack Russow: I...don’t have a CLUE.

Charlie Russow: ...wh-...why would you waste your day...in an obviously uninteresting location to you?

Jack Russow: Charlie I want you to listen to me. This day...THESE days...CAN never, and WILL never be a waste to me.

Charlie Russow: ...I’m afraid I don’t calculate.

Jack Russow: Yeah this is all cool, I like sharks and stuff but that’s not...why I brought you here. Charlie, I brought you here very selfishly, I must admit.

Charlie Russow: ...still not following.

Jack Russow: I wanted...I NEEDED to see you in a real world environment at LEAST once. Vibrant! Excited! Alive! Charlie I brought YOU here...to remind you that there is a world...beyond your books. I know you feel more comfortable with them since...the test.

Charlie Russow: You mean since they found out I’m on the spectrum and have been walking on eggshells around me as to not upset me or get their feelings hurt because I put things bluntly?

Jack Russow: Exactly. I...don’t EVER wanna see you hide yourself from the world. To Hell with the spectrum, to Hell with the labels. You are...MAYBE the most spectacular kid I’ve ever met...don’t you dare hide yourself from the world. If they can’t adjust, that’s THEIR problem. YOU be Charlie Russow. YOU choose your path. And I just wanted you to know...I’m gonna be there EVERY step of the way. We all will.

Charlie Russow: ...but father-

Jack Russow: Y’know you and dad are actually INCREDIBLY similar in a lot of ways.

Charlie Russow: ...we are?

Jack Russow: You both speak what’s on your mind...you don’t feel comfortable IN large crowds but you thrive in FRONT of large crowds, if you’re passionate about something you study EVERYTHING you can get your hands on about it…

Charlie Russow: What does father study?

Jack Russow: Honestly he studies pro wrestling. It used to be what he ate, slept, and breathed. I can’t COUNT the number of hours we spent watching old tapes from the 70’s and 80’s...the old school promo cutters and the roughneck fighters. It consumed him...there were a lot of times I thought he forgot about me too. But then...something happened.

Charlie Russow: ...what?

Jack Russow: You and Rosie were born...and you were fine. You were a GREAT baby...but Rosie...and don’t you ever tell her this...Rosie almost didn’t make it. She was in an incubator for awhile and that was the first time...I saw dad drop professional wrestling. He cancelled all his appearances...he even quit a few companies. The two of you sparked something in him...and along the way, he faltered a time or two…

Charlie Russow: ...he put you in the hospital until mother beat the tar out of him.

Jack Russow: Well...yes that DID happen but…*sigh* Alanah’s brothers...have been at each others throats for almost, maybe a little over a year...because one thought the other abandoned him. And I just...I never, ever, EVER...want you to feel abandoned.

(Charlie tears up a bit...and to Jack’s surprise he throws himself forward wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck as Jack hugs him tightly back.)

Charlie Russow: I...I never know how to say it but I...I DO love you, brother!!!

Jack Russow: I love you too, Little Man. You are gonna be JUST. FINE.

(Jack wipes a tear away as well as he puts both hands on Charlie’s shoulders smiling at him.)

Charlie Russow: Now...what’s Rule #1?

Jack & Charlie: Mom is always right, never listen to Dad.

(Jack wraps his arm around his brother as they watch the aquatic wildlife swim around  as the scene fades.)

-I SEE FIRE-

“Oh misty eye of the mountain below…
Keep careful watch o’er my brothers’ soul.
And should the sky be filled with...fire and smoke…
Keep watching over Durin’s sons.”

(The scene opens to a barebones locker room...nobody has shown up yet, there isn’t any sort of hustle or bustle and the clock in the corner says 3:00 P.M...Four hours before showtime. We hear the door click open. And walking into frame, by himself, stands Jack Russow dropping his bag in one of the lockers and removing his coat hanging it up nicely before he walks over carrying a simple black foldable chair with him...and he sets it in the middle of the room. He takes a seat, leans forward, and runs both hands across his face and back through his hair as he leans back...his right hand points fidgetly towards the camera as his legs start shaking.)

Jack Russow: See I had...this BIG and GRAND production planned. I was gonna go ALL OUT for this one because it’s not only my second match in the company that I feel...I haven’t made a big enough impression in yet. But there are SO MANY things to celebrate! My dad’s birthday is Sunday...Malachi is STILL on good terms with Lachlan...Lachlan seems to be coming around...Malachi is waging war on a dog instead of being focused on the ONE MAN...WHO HAS HAD HIM IN HIS CROSSHAIRS...SINCE THE DAY THEY “MET” ON TWITTER.

FUCKING. TWITTER.

(Jack starts bobbing his head drumming on his knees obviously bothered by everything that’s been going on as his facial expressions alternate between cringe, disgust, and smiling.)

Jack Russow: WHAT ELSE do we have to celebrate!? Huh!? How ‘bout the fact that I’m going to take that ragged old piece of shit Chris Crippler and I’m gonna do just that. I’m gonna cripple him, and I know...I know...each and every person he’s ever faced has probably promised that and HELL he probably turned the TABLES on them! But Chris...may I call you Chris? I’m respectful...we’ll go with Mr. Cripple. See Mr. Cripple what YOU don’t understand...is YOU have been invited into the middle of a World War that has been broiling in my chest for SO LONG now that...when I think about this opportunity...to FINALLY get my hands on Malachi...I can’t sleep! I’m TOO EXCITED! Hell, I’M so happy that I might use YOUR decrepit ass to bash THAT over-cocky ass! I WILL BEAT A MOTHERFUCKER WITH AN OLDER MOTHERFUCKER!!!

(Jack tousled his hair in anger again as he edges to the end of the seat holding his hand out and his pointer finger and thumb are touching like he’s pointing now.)

Jack Russow: See I told you, I told you, I TOLD YOU...at the END of my last video...I gave you ALL the recap of the century. Did you all do the required reading? Hmm? Study your homework? I know...I KNOW I’m supposed to be the “good guy” that plays by the rules and keeps a smile on his face and fetches and steps for everyone’s amusement while they play me off-stage like it’s the 18-FUCKING-90’S. And that’s just it isn’t it…

(Jack has a sudden look of realization on his face.)

Jack Russow: Look...Mal, I’m SORRY you lost your Pa. But from what Alanah has told me not only did he seem like a great guy...she said he’d LIKE me! Hell, your Ma LOVES me! And I’d do anything for my girls. Yeah...that’s right, I said it *MY* GIRLS. Tell me with as amazing, beautiful, charming, and sweet as Alanah is...how did YOU fall so far from the tree? You got a mishapen head like one of those stupid Aliens in the Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull movie, you glare like an Oompa Loompa, you DO smack talk like a motherfucker I’ll give you that...and I will DEFINITELY give you all the props in the world...for what you can do in that ring. But this ain’t your song...and this ain’t your dance…

...brother...this ain’t even your club.

(Jack suddenly calms himself and the trademark side grin cracks across his face again.)

Jack Russow: MY father? My father has faked my death...staged my kidnapping...beaten me with a leather strap on live TV...sent me to the emergency room...my father has put me and Bella through every kind of nightmare you could never imagine in your wildest dreams but I STILL. LOVE HIM. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it whatever you will. “I just can’t LEAVE, Karen, my CDs are in his car” or some abusive relationship like that. When he has his head on straight? My father is also the greatest professional wrestler IN. THE. WORLD. And he passed that gift on! D’you know who he passed that knowledge...that gift on to!?

...LITERALLY...EVERYONE...BUT ME.

Jack Russow: And trust me, this isn’t sour grapes, I understand why he did it...he didn’t WANT this life for me. See before all this? I...was a MUSICIAN! And we were GOOD...SO good in fact that we had started touring! And I tried...and I tried...to line those tour dates up with days...I could see your sister. And then I met Mack. I don’t know who trained him, Hell the way he works in the ring I don’t even know if he IS trained. But I learned...then every city we played, I paid a visit to their best school and for two or three days...I learned. I learned every style I could. But I wasn’t...GOOD...at any of them. And I’d wondered why, WHY I was having such trouble, WHY my dad wouldn’t just suck it up and train me RIGHT.

...it was because of my name.

Jack Russow: We keep bringing it back to that Goddamned name, beating that horse to death time and time again but the fact is it’s the truth! It’s MY truth! I had to set out...I had to become a journeyman...I had to go to shows and LIVE the life of 25 dollars and a handshake or a slice of pizza. Did I have the financial stability to make that still work? I won’t lie to you, yes I did. See I’m EVERYTHING you think I am Mal. I’m an entitled, over-pampered, stuck up trust fund baby. But I’m trying...I am TRYING to distance myself from that because I am TRYING...to be my OWN FUCKING MAN. So you keep throwing your quips...and your threats...and your jokes...and Chris Crippler can keep maintaining radio silence all he wants...it’s PROBABLY in his best interest at this point. I mean...dude...c’mon...you are...LITERALLY twice our age, you CAN’T break Malachi’s catch-as-catch can style or holds...you CAN’T catch my aerial maneuvers OR my cat-like chain wrestling combos into violent submissions like...ONE way or another...IF you step into this beatdown between Malachi and I? You’re gonna get hurt. Bad. ON purpose you skeevy old bastard. And as for YOU Malachi? We’re just running in circles at this point...so anything I have left to say to YOU?

...is gonna smash you right in the face.

(Jack gets up out of the chair and walks over turning the camera off.)