Black Sabbath

“Because when we give too many fucks, when we choose to give a fuck about everything, then we feel as though we are perpetually entitled to feel comfortable and happy at all times, that’s when life fucks us.”
― Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life

The question lingers in the back of my mind, “Where do I go from here?''The answer is more simple than you might imagine.You don’t sit at home licking your wounds, you don’t quit just because you lost the top belt to someone you respect. You don’t act like a bitch on social media. You work your way back up to regain what you shouldn’t have lost to begin with. That’s not a slight against Alex Jones, quite the opposite. That’s a slight against myself for not getting the job done. His ability and talent saw him through the title match and the rematch. There’s no shame in that for me, every failure is an opportunity to learn and grow. Thanks to Alex and Austin, the Wolf’s Lair has become relevant again. Milo has his star rising and Alicia...well she’s the constant isn't’ she? Now as you can imagine, they don’t like me much because of the language I used in describing them as a whole and individually. The respect is still there regardless of how they feel, because you know…

I don’t give a fuck.

It really is that simple, I don’t care what people feel about me. Whether they respect me or not doesn’t matter. If I don’t have your respect then I’ll fucking beat it out of you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It doesn’t matter who they put in front of me, friend, acquaintance or foe you all look the same standing across the ring from me. You look like a victim when the bell rings, it’s just that simple. You take someone like Goth, I have a ton of respect for him as a competitor and his achievements here in Sin City. He’s changed his life around from where he was a few short years ago. He’s on the right path and he knows it. The end result was the same, I treated him like an enemy once the bell rang. As good as he was, the end of the match was the expected outcome, at least in my own mind. Think about this for perspective, I’ve been here for about a year now, I’ve accomplished all of my goals. I have done nothing but make history since my arrival. One of the fastest to a triple crown status in this company's history. I’ve beaten men that the so-called experts said there was no way I could beat.

Gents, I’m far from done.

Hell, I’m just getting started.

As far as the landscape of the world title goes, don’t think for a minute that I’m on the outside looking in. My main event status is far from over. Just because Jack finally got off his ass and earned a shot at the title doesn’t mean shit to someone like me. The way he did it was in typical Jack Washington fashion, he’s a fucking low life what else would you expect from someone like that. That shot could have been Vinnie’s but in what has become the expected, he took his eye off the ball. He became so distracted by other things, like brotherly love. You are nothing but predictable, big boy. You fancy yourself some kind of badass but at the end of the day, you’re just part of the body count, son. You’ve had your time in the spotlight, and you want that again. That’s something I can respect but you’ve already proven you can’t take the heat that goes with that spot. So, I’m going to do the humane thing and put you out of your misery. When you cut your promo I know it will be full of bluster and lip service but the fact that your hanging out with Bill tells me everything I need to know about you.
[“Knowledge is Power Part 4” -
Crooked M Ranch -
Port Arthur, Texas]

The air this morning had a crispness to it that was rare in SouthEast Texas, even in the fall the temperatures rarely dipped below fifty degrees. Thermometer read forty-six at the moment. Not cold enough for a jacket, for me at this moment it felt good. Being here right now, felt like the right place to be. I loved my wife with every ounce of who I am but lately things had been tenuous at best. She had told me that I was doing something similar to what she had done before, whether that was true or not? Well, the jury was still out on that. Her perspective did not necessarily translate to my reality. I was proud of her accomplishments, it was my own failures that were causing the problem between us. We’d even gone out to that swanky place to put on a good face for the fans and anyone saying or thinking that there were problems in our marriage. Like most celebrity couples we had to put on airs to quiet the fan boys on the internet. That was the one thing I hated about our life was all the pretending that we had to do in order to stay relevant. To put the right spin on who we were as the golden couple of Sin City. So, instead of being in Vegas playing pretend for people I didn’t give two shits about, I was home in Texas. I had just arrived the night before, flying in from Florida, another company's show. I was tired but it was a good kind of tired.

I felt fresh and ready to go for the first time in a long time. I still had my schedule to keep for Sin City, the usual round of signings and appearances to promote matches and the super show of course. A supershow that I hadn’t even been booked for yet. Not shocking, I’m sure that the people at the top of the food chain were still trying to figure that out. I knew I would be booked in some way and I was even more certain that it would be a result of this match I had coming up with Vinnie. There would be time to think about that later for now I had to focus on the task at hand. Figuring out why in the hell Thomas Mixon and the Senior Delgado wanted my land so much. That was the million dollar question for me right now. There were a lot of new buildings going in around town, most of them were owned by Mixon INC. That in itself was a red flag for me, he had a lot going on around town. So, what was it about my place that had so much attention on it from him and Delgado. I stared at the map of the property lines and nothing really just jumped off the page. It would have to be something subtle, so now I took a step back away from the map. From the bookcase I grabbed the tube that had a larger, more holistic view of the area. I unfurled it over the more local map and looked at it.

“The only thing I  can see is this small inlet towards the edge of the property line.”, I muttered to myself. That section of land bumped up next to Mixon’s Logistic Offices and an Industrial Park. Was that the key? I wasn’t sure, so I went back to the documentation package the boys had sent me. “What is your game, you old bastard?!” I mused to myself as I scanned the map. According to the files that the boys had provided, it was going to be a way to ship goods more easily. Delgado had said that wasn’t entirely true, but which part of it wasn’t entirely true. There was other documentation there about his family's desire to go into real estate and build new residential complexes on the land. The list went on, rezoning parts of it for commercial use, shopping centers and the like. The last item I knew was a lie, a mall?

“Who the fuck builds malls these days?”

No one does I thought to myself as I scanned the map one last time. I finally rolled it up and put it back in the protective tube. Returning it to its place on the shelf, I grabbed my pack of smokes from the work table. The snicking sound of my zippo as I lit the cigarette was closely followed by the buzzing of my phone. A picture was incoming from my son James. He had gone down to the coast on a fishing expedition of sorts. The picture he sent me was of earth moving equipment. Lots of earth movers to be more exact. That would support the documents that the sons of Thomas Mixon sent me. Earth Movers were not uncommon in construction jobs. Something didn’t seem to add up though, the picture he sent didn’t have just a few earth movers, it was row after row of them. My phone buzzed again, the next picture was of the inlet, it was starting to look more like a series of docks. “Okay, so he’s building a wharf…” I said, trying to piece the puzzle together. Then a third picture came in, it looked like an architectural dig from the movies. The message from James was that I needed to come down there and see this for myself. My response was that I was on my way. I grabbed my cup of coffee and downed it. Setting the cup back on the table, I grabbed my smokes and my keys and headed for the truck.

Fade

Senor Vinnie is the topic of conversation this week. I guess scumbags of a feather flock together eh? You and the Barnhardts, that’s quite the recipe for disaster right there. Let’s go back in time a ways, you were injured in a match that David Shepherd was a part of. You spoke about how you were injured and could feel the ligaments snap. To come back from an injury so quickly is some borderline miracle kinda shit ain’t it? I mean, your doctor must be amazing. There is another option though. I mean what other option could there possibly be? You seem to be such a straight shooter with a great track record of being on the up and up, right? You’ve never misled the fans or anyone on the roster about who you are as a professional, right? Your word is as good as your bond, right? No one would possibly hesitate to shake your hand confirming it was a good deal and they trusted you, right? If anyone watching this right now can’t recognize sarcasm for what it is, I’m sorry.

Vinnie is a fucking liar.

I didn’t stutter.

I said what I said.

You’ll get the opportunity to prove me wrong, don’t worry about that for one moment. I’m very good at testing the structural integrity of a person's joints. I have no qualms about destroying you limb by limb Vinnie, it’s the least I can do for such a stand up guy like yourself. I’d much rather punch you in the face until you stop moving, but that’s frowned upon in this establishment. So, what is the point of our match really? Well, you had a match to try and become the number one contender for the world title. I lost my rematch to regain that title. My belief is that this match will determine a number of things for the supershow. Unless our bosses are just using this as filler on the show, and that would be sad. I know you’ll do your usual thing and talk my shortcomings into the ground. Afterall, that’s what we do right? I know that’s what I expect, as does anyone who takes the time to actually watch one of your promotional videos. The number of people who are entertained by you must be a huge number. I mean it’s got to be like...all three of them? You are not without some redeeming qualities though vin-man. I mean you have a right to be proud, You are a former internet and world champion. That’s a lot to hang your hat on. You were a good champion and I don’t think anyone would refute that. That’s where my respect for you ends. All of the other things that you’ve done here...the short cuts, the double dealing and all the other bullshit. It’s just fluff and not worth mentioning. To say that you are owed a receipt by many people is like saying the Pope is a little bit Catholic. It’s obvious, so obvious that even someone as dimwitted as the people you are keeping company with would see it.
This is definitely not about them though and It’s not that I don’t like you or respect your ability. Wait...did I actually just fucking say that?

Correction.

I do respect your ability but as a person I can’t stand your big lanky dumb ass. You are a sleeze, and hardly worth my time. The fact that I have to share a ring with you is disgusting to me. I know David wants to settle up with you, I hope he can wait until after the match though. I don’t think my ego could survive a disqualification loss to the likes of you.

[Las Vegas, Nevada - “Trouble in Paradise Part 2”
The Bane Home]

The smell of mesquite and oak filled my senses as I checked the smoker to make sure it was at the right temperature for the pig I was smoking. The smoker itself was as old as my oldest child. An old butane tank that had been cleaned out and cut in half for this purpose. I had taken this thing all over the place but it now rested on a concrete slab near the front driveway. I checked the digital gages for the temperature one last time and sat back down. Smoothing the legs of my jeans and leaning forward I finally exhaled a long steady stream. It allowed me to let the tension go a bit. Amber was away for the time being, taking care of whatever it was she needed to do. I had noticed that recently she had not been displaying her world title as prominently as she once did when we were both holding a world title. I notice a lot of things, especially with her, it’s both a curse and a blessing. I always knew when she was trying to hide something from me. Like the cut on her lip for example, maybe she didn’t realize that a little dab of makeup wasn’t going to hide that from me. At times it’s almost like I can summon her, just by thinking about her. I smirked as she rolled into the drive.

Grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder she shoots me a wink and a smile as she walks towards the house. Even at home it seems we like to play pretend. We pretend that everything is just fine and I know in time it will be. The path I’ve chosen, like her, we’ve walked it many times individually but never together. Together is kind of a misnomer right now because we may live under the same roof but we are definitely not together. I needed to try and figure out how to fix that. Checking the digital gage again, the fire is going well and it’s maintaining my target temperature. “Relationships are not hard” I muse to myself as I stand up and turn to walk towards the house. “It’s like gas really, if you try to push too hard, it’s just shit.” I say as I enter the house. Her bag is still resting on the bar as I enter the kitchen. I can see the strap of the bombshell's title sticking out just a bit. She has her back to me as she’s digging something out of the fridge. I grab the strap of the title and look at it. She turns around and sees me with her belt and I can see the wheels turning in her mind. I look up and smile at her, “It’s a bit scuffed, nothing that can’t be fixed though”, I muse outloud in a friendly voice as I shoot her a wink. I take the belt to the living room where my cleaning solution is.

I know she’s following me and I can feel the heat on my back from her stare. I take a seat on the couch and dig out the polish and the soft cloth and go to work cleaning up her belt. “What in the Hell are you doing?” is the question expressed in complete exasperation to me from my wife. I don’t say anything at first, but as she comes towards the couch, I begin to stand. I turn the belt around and show her my handy work, “Better?”, it stops her dead in her tracks. I find that sometimes with my wife, shock value can work best. My shining her belt had been a joke on social media for a while. Instead of handing the belt back to her, I take it to our display of titles. “I am setting things straight.” I say as I place the belt in its proper place. A place of prominence within our home. “This belt or any other that you wear should never be tucked away out of sight.”, I look at her meaningfully, hoping I’m projecting the right attitude and meaning to what I’m saying.

“You of all people should never try to protect my fucking feelings, Red”, I look back at the display and smile. I see the look on her face and can see the storm of emotions playing across her features. I nod, smiling and I close the distance between us. Hugging her I say, “I love you with every ounce of who I am, Amber.” She returns the hug and we stay like that for countless moments. “I want you to remember, just like I have to remember, I’ve always got your back. No matter what you do, it’s not going to change our relationship. I hope you’ll remember that.” She lifted her head, “Always” was her response to me.

Fade.

[“Final Word” - In-Studio]

I stand in the studio, looking out the window I think about what I want to say to close this out. I finally settled on a specific direction.

Senor Vinnie; an accomplished athlete, who has done virtually everything there is to do in this company. I can respect that, but not the method’s you use. I get it, I’ve done the “by any means necessary” thing many times in my career. Unlike me though, you seem to be quite comfortable continuing down that road. You care not for redemption or the fans or the company for that matter. The only thing that you want is the fame and notoriety that comes with being a champion.

I nod my head towards the camera.

Yet another thing that I respect about you Vinnie. You’re committed to yourself first and foremost. Your alliance with Bill and his wife? That will go by the wayside as soon as they outlive their usefulness. Again, part of your track record. It’s widely known that you can’t be trusted with anything or anyone. You don’t have a clue what loyalty is, much less what it means. Hell, I doubt you could even fucking spell it. Since I’ve been here, I’ve done my best to do everything the right way. I’ve given respect to people that have earned it. I don’t cheat to win matches. I also don’t just bury people when I cut promo’s.

Shifting my gaze back towards the window, so that the light gives my face an aura of sorts, not quite a halo but close enough for the desired effect.

When you do that, it makes you look like an ass should they beat you. At that point you’ve gotten your ass kicked by some loser that you have no respect for. It’s one of those “sucks to be you” moments in life that people have to learn the hard way. Once you’ve learned that, it’s the first step in being able to get out of your own way.

Turning back to face the camera, the smirk returns to my face. With a playful smile I continue.

My opinion doesn’t have much weight with you though, what do I know, after all? I mean, I’ve only spent the last two decades, honing my craft, in the ring and on the microphone. That doesn’t mean that you have no chance against me because let’s be honest. This is Sin City. If you are signed to a contract with this company you have a chance. Anyone can beat anyone under the right circumstance.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I worked towards the finish.

You don’t believe that though do you? You’re one of those dumb motherfuckers in this business who thinks they’re ten feet tall and bullet proof. When I was younger, I believed that as well. Another of those hard life lessons that’s learned through trial by fire. Trial by combat in our case. I know you’ve been around the business for a while but it’s like you’ve forgotten everything you were taught. You don’t respect the business, only the dollar. That marks you in a way that I can’t even begin to describe. For the sake of this match, it puts the crosshairs squarely on your chest, and I’m the trigger man. I feel no remorse for the things I do inside that ring Vinnie. Especially to those like yourself who spit on the tradition that all of us who came before you fought so hard to preserve. I won’t go into that whole tired trope of respect the trail blazers...blah blah blah. Instead, I’ll welcome you to the body count. Should you survive this match with me you can count yourself among the few. It’s rare air you’ll be sharing and if you beat me? Even more rare, son. You should say a prayer and thank god for the ass whoopin you’re about to receive.

Fade.

Empty Handed

“Success is a lousy teacher. It seduces smart people into thinking they can't lose.” - Bill Gates

[On-Camera]

When you go from the top of the mountain to a footnote, that’s not an easy thing for anyone who’s ever held a world title to accept. I never took Alex lightly, I was prepared for this match and lost anyway.

I stood in front of the camera for the first time since I lost the world title, my trademark stetson sitting on a table nearby. Today I wore the face of a poker player, no emotion was betrayed. I had not planned for this eventuality, so I have no excuses, only the ownership of the problem and no one but myself to blame. The loss of that title had consumed my thoughts from the time the bell rang to this point in time. Where pride and joy once lived so outwardly to the world, now anger and hatred preside.

I could be like my predecessors and stand here in front of you all and make excuses about how and why I lost to Alex Jones. I could simply walk away just like Mark Cross and Jack Washington did. The only thing the three of us have in common is that we WERE world champions who lost. Jack would never admit that he lost to a better fighter in Mark Cross, who would also never admit that I kicked his ass. As I told him on social media, we are not the same. On that night, Alex Jones was better than me. He beat me and he did it clean. Well, as clean as you can in that type of match.

I feel my face darken as the anger rises in me again, without knowing, my fists are clenched at my side. Upon realizing it, I foreably unclench them, flexing my fingers a few times to work the blood flow back into them.

I’ve been told that I can pass on the title rematch, should I choose to do so. At first I was going to take some time off. That would make me as fragile as Mark Cross, who all of a sudden is back. I guess Florida is not the be all, end all of Professional Wrestling after all.

I reach back and tighten the knot of my bandanna that is holding my hair out of my face and smirk at the camera.

A while back, after I had won the Internet Title, Goth had issued an open challenge. For whatever reason, ownership allowed Milo to answer that call. That was cute and all but anyone with any brain cells left knew that Milo stood no chance of winning that match. It doesn’t matter what you think of Goth, he’s a legend, famous or infamous depending on perspective. I’ve been on record saying how much respect I have for the man. He’s an elite competitor and has held many titles here. That’s where the respect ends though. See, you came back for a cup of coffee and then left again into the void known as retirement. And….now you’re back again.

The smirk is gone again as I finish that sentence, replaced by a gaze that is not quite a glare but it’s far from friendly.

Welcome back, Chief. I hope you will be sticking around for a while, this company is far better with you than without you. Everyone knows that when you step into the ring that you draw money. The same can be said of myself. The difference is, I’ve not taken time off from the sport in over a decade. My dedication to the company and this industry is fucking unparalelled. You will never encounter anyone in this sport that has as much passion for what we do than me. We’ve never encountered each other here or anywhere else for that matter so this will be a historic night.

I frown slightly and nod as I continue.

You came back for a match that many have been anticipating for a while. I continue on as I prepare to take back something that was taken from me. I will regain my world title and you are the first step in that. I’ve often been referred to as “The Gentleman Wolf” and in an ideal world that is exactly who you would be facing. That can no longer be said. That part of me is dormant, one could say that it was stripped away. That’s not your fault of course, it is circumstance. The problem is that AJ is not available, so to try and get back to center, I have to vent my frustration. You’ll have to do.

Fade

Aaron
Unnamed Hospital, Port Arthur, Texas.
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

The flight home had been uneventful, I was fifteen pounds lighter for the trip back and none too happy about that. I had lost to Alex Jones and it stung more than a little bit. That meant there was only one thing to do. Take back what was mine. The envelope that I had been given in Alaska still rested in the breast pocket of my jacket, unopened. Having shown my vaccination card to the hospital staff, I had been allowed into the room where my friend of thirty-six years and my sister’s husband of thirty-three years lay dying. Aaron, who was every bit as big as me, was a gentle giant. A god-fearing man, who had been a deacon in his church for the last twenty years. He was dying because of a stubborn streak that was as wide as the state we called home. His kidneys were functioning at ten percent when he’d been brought in. The doctors had informed us that as of this morning they were at six percent. In essence, the man was in a coma and in full renal failure. All because of his pride. My sister Abi, sat in a chair beside his bed. For the first time in a long time, she seemed to be at peace. Her red hair hung limply around her shoulders, her green eyes were rimmed red with tears but she wore a grim smile that accentuated the wrinkles around her mouth.

As I entered the room, she looked up and gave me a smile, glad that someone was there. I had no idea where Aaron’s Dad and Sister were. She just shook her head and motioned me over. I gave her a long hug, not just because she was my baby sister but because no one I’ve ever known needed one worse than she did right now. When she pulled back, she said to me, “I’m glad you could be here. It’s really a shame his own family doesn’t care as much as mine does.” In response, I didn’t get angry but simply kissed my sister on the forehead. She seemed to melt against me as I guided her back to a seated position. She held Aaron’s hand as I spoke softly to the man who had been one of my closest friends in life. We had known each other since we were around eight or nine years old. “Well old friend, your stubborn pride finally got the better of you.”, I said as quietly and smoothly as I could. I knew my eyes were beginning to well up but I didn’t care. “Fair winds and following seas old man.”, I said softly to him. The tears were running freely as my little brother, as I used to call him took his last breaths, with only myself and his wife of thirty-plus years for company.

The heart monitor flatlined and I moved out of the way for the hospital staff as they rushed in. My sister Abi stopped them, showing them his “Do Not Resuscitate” card. They stopped, unable to be able to help bring him back to the land of the living. All due to his own wishes, another example of Aaron’s stubbornness, which I respected, we always said that when it was our time, it was our time. He believed that if he allowed himself to be revived, that went against God’s will. He was not big on challenging the big man as he liked to call him. I finally looked over at Abi and even though her heart had been broken in two, she was at peace. It’s such a foreign concept to me. Peace. What does that even feel like, I’ve often wondered? What might it feel like to be completely satisfied with the life you’ve chosen to lead with zero regrets. I was very jealous of Aaron and Abi just then. I wished with all of my might that I could have that, even though I knew that was beyond my ability to achieve. Imagine that, suddenly realizing that there was one thing that no matter how hard you tried, you could never achieve.

“Where’s Gerald and Nickki?”, I asked her quietly. She shook her head no, either not knowing or not wanting me to know. “Okay, when was the last time they were here?”, I asked. She smiled and then replied, “They left about ten minutes before you got here.” I looked over where Aaron lay, a sheet now pulled over his face. “They knew the shape he was in and they just left?” I asked her with a tone of incredulity. She nodded, not saying anything else. “Would you like for me to take you home, Abi?”, I asked her softly as I laid an arm across her shoulder. She leaned her head into my shoulder and cried softly. After a while, when the tears had finally subsided for this round, she looked up and spoke. “I would like that Mac, it’s been a couple of days since I’ve slept or even ate anything.” We stood up together and I guided her towards the door. We stopped by the door and turned to look one last time, neither of us believed that he could really be gone.

Fade.

No More Micky Mouse Bullshit
Orlando, Florida.
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

I stood in line at the hotel waiting my turn to check-in, when my phone buzzed. A message from Amber, giving me the room number. “Thank god for that woman.”, I said quietly to myself. I left the line and went to the elevator. I turned the corner a bit more sharply than I had intended and nearly ran into a woman who looked like a cast reject from “The Housewives of Miami”. ‘Excuse me, ma’am.” I made my apologies and maneuvered around her. She wreaked of bourbon and weed. “Sure thing.” she said as I went around her. “My, my you are a tall drink of water.”, she followed me to the elevator. “Thanks, I think?” I said in response. She eyed me up and down, looking at me like I’d be her next meal. “So, Tex, where’d you park your horse?” she said in a voice that was full of snark. I’d had a really tough week and so I don’t think anyone but God would blame me for what was said next. “He’s parked between my legs but you’re too fat to ride.” I said in a voice that was equally sarcastic as I entered the elevator. She tried to follow me in but I stopped her. “I’m sorry miss, but this car is at maximum capacity.”, I said politely but firmly.

I pressed the button for our floor, “God damn Mac don’t you ever get tired of this micky mouse bullshit?!” I shook my head in disgust as the elevator climbed suddenly. It threw my balance off briefly but I recovered quickly and leaned against the wall of the elevator. I let out a long sigh as they chime dinged letting me know I had arrived at our floor. I exited the elevator and made my way towards our room, pausing once to readjust the bag I had slung over my shoulder as it threatened to slide down. Since I had lost the title to Alex, I had been tempted to just buy out the remainder of my contract and call it a career. That wasn’t how I was though. As a competitor and as a man, there was no way that my pride would allow that. No, I was going to reclaim what was mine. No one had to like it but I knew when I was in this mode there was nothing they could fucking do about it either. I started to get closer to the room and the door opened, my wife was a lot of things to a lot of people. She was everything to me. The combination of violence and beauty was a rare thing in our business. Not many women could pull off both. Most of the beauties were just eye candy for some jackass who couldn’t work a mic. Not mine though, she’d kicked my ass before and would do it again if it was called for.

“Red” greeted me with a smile, a kiss, and a hug as I entered the room. “Feeling any better?”, she asked softly. “About fifteen pounds lighter”, I quipped to her as I allowed the bag to slide off my shoulder. “Well, you already know what to do about that.” she quipped back at me in response. I smiled at her, the sarcasm levels were always evenly matched between us. “Yes Ma’am, I certainly do,” I said in return. I rested my bag on the office chair and turned back around. Amber reached up and grabbed me by the ears, pulling me closer so we were nose to nose. “Make him pay for even thinking about taking your title, darling”. I smiled at her aggressiveness and responded in kind, “They will rue the fucking day, my love.”. Her smile broadened, “Fuck, I love you.” she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck. My only response was to say, “I know.”

Fade.

In this business we often say a lot of things that we don’t mean. We call each other all variety of names. We thinly veil our contempt for each other with fancy words laced with innuendo. We insinuate things and flat out accuse each other of things that may or may not be true. There is one thing that I know is true about Goth. He is a legend in our business and one of the cornerstones that Sin City was built on. Whether you like or dislike his methods is irrelevant. He was always someone who simply got shit done. If he failed, he owned it. If he succeeded he never let you forget it. The days of face paint and liquor are gone, but the ass-kickings continued. Don’t believe me? Ask Mark Cross how his match went with Goth. If you can get him to cut the crap long enough, to tell the truth, that is.

The thing is this, Goth came back in some sense of redemption, I guess. He did a lot of bad things early in his career and felt the need to come back to “make things right”. Now to him, it doesn’t matter if anyone took him seriously or even believed him. In his mind and his heart, he thought he was doing the right thing. The next thing that happened was just as unexplainable as him materializing, to begin with. He disappeared once again. No one knew where he went or if he was okay. He just vanished. Much like Mark Cross after I beat his ass. Yes, I’m repeating myself because it amuses me to say that. Bear with me kids, I’m getting to the point. So, Goth is back again, but will it be for the same reason as last time? Will it be, “to make things right” or will it be because he misses the spotlight and everything that goes with it. Will water bottles be replaced by bottles of booze again or will he stick to the straight and narrow? All valid questions as far as I’m concerned. Not that I care, but the fans will likely be interested to know the answers to the questions all the same.

Fans today, you can’t pull the wool over their eyes like in the old days. Use to be that people in this industry protected their art like a member of the family. Never let anyone inside or get too close to give away any of the secrets of what we do. These days though, they are way smarter and you can’t really hide anything from them. Like my anguish of losing the world title. It’s not like I tried to hide it. I did what a man should do, I congratulated the new champ and told him I was coming for him and that title once again. I’m not going to stand here all full of fake bravado and yell at the top of my lungs how I am going to tear you apart and that there isn’t anything you can do about it. No, because that would be fake and disingenuous. What and who I am, has always been obvious. I am first and foremost a wrestler. I take pride in that, just like the previous generation of Bane’s did and the generation that I raised. When I step between those ropes, I’m on a mission. That is my domain, I don’t play well with others and I don’t share my territory. Every wrestling move I execute is done with precision and impact. Every punch I throw is thrown with velocity and hate. That’s the difference between me and the rest of the roster.

The rest are out there trying to win matches. I’m out there protecting what’s mine. While you are trying to beat me in a match, that’s not what I’m doing. When I tell you we are not the same, you can take that as the gospel. Every move and punch is designed to hurt you. I’m not out there to win a match. I’m out there to hurt the enemy that stands across the ring from me. It doesn’t matter who you are or what your name is. All of that disappears when the bell rings. I only see red, and I only see enemies across from me. You would think, Goth, as long as you have been around and doing this. You would think that I would be the last person you would want to face, instead of the first. I could lie and tell you this is not personal, but it is. Not because I dislike you personally. You’ve done nothing to me, outside of signing a contract to face me one on one.

That was a mistake.

Not because I think I’m so much better than you. I don’t think that at all, I know I’m better. At the end of the night, you’ll know it as well. There is only one thing I’m not so certain of. That’s whether you’ll be able to leave under your own power. I’m fucking done placating people in Sin City. The fans, the ownership, my so-called peers. J2H was right, as bad as I hate to say it. He was fucking right about all of you. The Gentlemen Wolf has been stripped away in a single match. What’s left behind is raw, unbridled hatred for every single one of you. Get ready bitches, you reap what you sew.

“You're a warrior or you're not.” - Royce Gracie

A New Era Has Begun

Out Of Reach.
Sun Princess Cruise, Post-Summer XXXTreme
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

During Amber’s Match

The pulsing red light signalling Amber’s entrance and the first chords of 'Dust and Bone' by Syd Duran began to play as she made her way out to the ring. I stayed by the Gorilla position to watch her face Myra in her title versus title matchup. My own would be next but I wanted to watch my wife defend her title. I had treated it like a foregone conclusion, despite her attempts to deflect that level of confidence that I had in her. She is my world but this was her world title and so I began pacing before the entrances were even completed. I stopped once again as the bell was rang to start the match. I watched as Amber charged in and the two began trading blows. When Myra threw Amber outside of the ring, I laughed. “Bad business decision right there, Myra.”

“Atta girl! Fuck her up, Red!”, I said as Amber sent Myra into the Ultimate X structure face first. “Busted her open already.” I said as Amber threw Myra back into the ring. I continued to watch and smile until Myra rolled out of the way of the attempted knee from Amber. “Fuck!”, I exclaimed as Myra connects with a roundhouse kick and then locks in a cross arm breaker. I began pacing again but never took my eyes off the match. I watch as Myra counters the escape attempt by Amber with a small package. Then Myra hit the “Dream Crusher”, they had talked a lot about that move prior to the cruise and I felt Amber was ready for it. I yelled, “Yes” as she kicked out of the finisher! I was elated that she had escaped it but worried, I knew she would be in trouble. “Com’on Amber, you got this!” I growled. True to my wishes, Amber was back up and hit her own finisher, “Original Sin”! “Yes!” I exclaimed. She went for the cover and I watched in dismay as Myra kicked out at two.

I wasn’t alone, the fans reaction was also one of disbelief as a gasp was heard throughout the crowd. I watch along, seeing both women crash to the canvas and I shake my head in disbelief. “She’s exhausted, com’on Red, you got this.” The ref gets to a count of seven and Myra is back on her feet, “Shit”, I say as I stop pacing. I watch Myra try to climb to the top rope, but she can’t make it all the way. Then Amber is up and climbing up to the top. “Oh fuck me….that’s not really your game Red.” I feel my eyebrows arching, “Saw Dust?” Then she hits it off the top rope. Another collective gasp from the crowd. “Holy Balls….” I say with my voice trailing off. “YES!!!!” I exclaim as the ref counts three. I watch my wife celebrate as Myra rolls out of the ring. If it weren’t for the fact that Amber had just defended her title and taken Myra’s I might feel a little sorry for her. “High risk, high reward baby.” I said to Amber even though she wasn’t there yet. She had done it, beaten someone that many of the bombshells considered to be unbeatable.

When Amber finally makes her way to where I am, I grab her in a fierce hug, burying my face in her neck at first as I hoist her off the ground. Holding her head in my hands after I set her back on the ground, I kissed her firmly. My eyes are full of love and pride. “You kicked her ass Red. That was amazing to watch. Congratulations my love.”.

Present

Amber and I sat side by side on the balcony of that cruise ship, I don’t think you could have wiped the smile off our faces with industrial grade sandpaper. A goal realized, an achievement that had been accomplished by only a few “power couples” in this business. It was rare air we were sharing now. I had also accomplished a long term goal, I was now a triple crown champion in Sin City. A new era had begun in Sin City and they were oblivious to that simple fact. They were quick with their congratulations, never the wiser that Amber and I now ran this fucking place. I pushed that thought aside as I looked over at the love of my life, “Oblivion now runs this mother fucker.” I said to her half amused. “Fuck I love you.” was her only reply, her hungry eyes spoke things her voice wouldn’t as we made our way back into the cabin and I turned out the lights.

Fade

A day in the life of a champion
The Bane Home, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

“God damnit! I hate cliches!” I said in exasperation. Amber giggled at me, as it was her cliche that had caused my reaction. “With great power comes great responsibility”, I mockingly said as I rolled my eyes. This caused her to laugh harder, she could really be quite relentless when it came to teasing me. In all honesty, I didn’t mind the teasing or her persistence. I always over reacted to her teasing because first and foremost, it brought her joy. happy wife, happy life was the cliche that sprang to my mind as I winked at her. For the uneducated, my reaction was a direct reflection of my schedule that had been sent to me by the bosses. Appearances, signings, promotional tours for the company. It left very little time for us to be together. She had a separate schedule from mine to maximize the company exposure and create better buy rates for the super shows. We would both have to be leaving pretty soon, so we were enjoying the time together.

“How’s the kid doing up in the pacific northwest?” she asked in reference to my son, Jimmy. I smiled in response, they love to tease the shit out of each other and it made me smile. “He’s doing alright, had his first match and was able to catch up with Zephyr.” I said in response. She smiled, obviously remembering Zephyr. “You did good work with that one, Mac.” She said finally. I remembered it well, Zephyr had been misguided and corrupted by others. She had been a train wreck when I met her. I had been able to get her straightened out and back on track. She now had a girlfriend and a place to call home. Actually, I had given them my house in Baltimore as a wedding gift. I was secretly in hopes that they would sell the house. They hadn’t of course and that was fine too. Should they decide to come back to that area, the house would be there. Just as my support for her would always be there. She was a special girl with that “it” factor that so many sought to achieve in this business.

“Zephyr is a good kid, no doubt about that. I’ll be interested in seeing how her and Jimmy do in Seattle.” I said finally. “They’ll kick ass”, she said in response. Then she winked at me, “They’ll have to, we set the bar pretty high for the family.” That brought a huge smile to my face. We had done exactly that. Not only for the family but for this company. Amber had beaten a woman, many believed to be unstoppable. Many had thought that it was Myra’s destiny to become the next great champion of the Women’s Division. Where she would run roughshod over everyone for a long time to come. Everyone it would seem except for me and Amber.

As for me, I was one of the few people who believed I could beat Cross. I cherished that moment. The look of shock on the faces of fans and peers alike as I came away with both titles. “Yes ma’am, we certainly did that.” I said finally. From the hallway I could hear Julz, or more accurately the staccato of her heels clicking on the tile. “You two are gonna be late!” she said in an exasperated tone. A quick look at my watch and I realized she was right. I had an hour drive ahead of me, while Amber’s was closer. I slugged down the rest of my coffee which had gone cold by now. The bitterness of the liquid made me cringe, “Gods, I’ve had whiskey with less bite than that.” I said, amused more at myself than anything. The statement elicited the desired response as both women laughed at me. A quick kiss for my wife and a hug for my daughter and I grab the keys off the counter to head to my first real work day as Sin City World Heavyweight Champion.

Fade

The era of Oblivion has begun. It’s not the end of anything, only the beginning.The beginning of something amazing to be quite honest about it. How long has it been since you had a married couple holding the top prizes in this company? How long has it been since you’ve had dominant champions? No one like me has held this title in quite some time. Not since the golden era of Sin City to be more precise. Not since the epic wars that J2H waged on this roster.  People like J2H think that previous champions were lackluster at best. I don’t necessarily agree with that but I respect his opinion. When you own the record for the longest title reign in this company’s history, yeah, I value that opinion. Why wouldn’t I? He and I are more alike than not. I’m sure that statement will rub some people the wrong way, and that’s okay, because I don’t give a fuck.

Mark Cross retired shortly after our match, if that doesn’t tell you anything, you’re an idiot. He explained his retirement away in as lame a way as he could. Typical Mark Cross, not so much of a dragon anymore is he? No, he barely qualifies as an iguana these days. I was told that the bar had been set so low by previous champions that anything I do with it would be better. I’ll simply pick it up off the ground and bash people in the face with it. How’s that? That’s something I do better than anyone in the world to be quite frank about it. To me, it doesn’t matter if you’re a fan favorite or universally despised, the end result will be the same. Some would call it arrogance, I call it a mission statement. It doesn’t matter who you are, you step in that ring with me gunning for my title and I’ll put you down quicker than I would a rabid dog. All you have to do for proof of that is look at my track record in this company.

The first time I was here, they put me in the Roulette division, a division that I dominated. I walked through all the so called hardcore wrestlers like a hot knife through butter. I defeated the champion in a way that left no doubt who the very best in the ring was at that time. I left for a bit, I came back and participated in the tourney and you know the rest of that. I didn’t win it but according to the hardware I own now, that doesn’t matter that much does it? After the tourney I obliterated O’Malley and took his internet title away. I kicked his ass so thoroughly that he hasn’t stepped foot in a Sin City wrestling ring since. That brings us to today. What I said on Climax Control, still holds true. They will line up the so-called contenders and I’ll send them back to the back. Whether they’ll be under their own power when they go will depend largely on my mood that night, and the level of brutality that the fans clamor for.

As for what’s next? That’s really simple, I’ll continue to grind it out and get ready for the next show and my first opponent as world champion. I’ll go out there each and every week like this title is on the line. That’s the amount of respect I have for this company and those that I fight each week. Regardless of who you are, know this. You will get my very best each week. I will fight everyone on this fucking roster if I have to. All to give this belt back the prestige it deserves. It’s all about making this title relevant again. Simply by being held by a man, instead of a pretender. This title has relevance again, because I hold it. You all saw how we were ranked as the number three company in the world recently. That didn’t happen because of Mark Cross. That happened because I beat the unbeatable. I achieved things that were said to be out of my reach. I made this strap mean something again for the first time in a long time. A lot of people didn’t think that Mark and I deserved to even be the main event. We proved them wrong as we not only tore the house down, we set an example of what a super show main event should be. It’s all about setting that example. Setting the bar if you will. Now we move on to the present and my next opponent. A former racing champion, Roulette Champion and Internet Champion. That’s who I face this week.

You take a look at the match itself, Augustino gets to face me, one on one. If he wins, then at that point he will be getting a title shot. I’ve got nothing personal against Augistino, he certainly seems to be a good human. All around good athlete, and very competitive. If personality and drive were all it took my man, you’d already be a world champion in my opinion. You’ve got that and heart in huge quantities. That’s not all it takes though. It takes talent. You don’t lack talent but you’re not honing your skills to a fine razor sharp edge like you need to. To take on the likes of me, you’ve got to have that edge man. You simply don’t have that right now. When people look at you, there’s no fear factor involved that you might take their spot. That you might take their title. Thing is kid, I’ve already faced you on my way to a title win in this company. The first time was the Roulette division. Granted that was a multi man match and a bit of a cluster fuck. So, having faced you before and knowing what I know about you, what makes you think I would even hesitate to face you? It honestly didn’t matter to me if the title was on the line or not, it wouldn’t change the outcome.

I go into this match with the mindset that it is on the line, and nothing but a victory is acceptable to me. For you, this is an opportunity to really shine. A chance to shine brighter than you ever have in this business. A win over me will make you relevant, it will make you main event caliber. Despite your wins over Caleb Storm in the internet division, you haven’t quite lived up to your billing. No, before this match, you were languishing in Roulette matches at the bottom of the card. The people love you, there’s no doubt about that. You’re popular in the locker room but then again so was Mark Cross. All of that and five bucks will get you a cup of coffee at Starbucks. That won’t win you a match against me, you better hope that I trip over the ring ropes as I enter the ring and knock myself out. That’s your one and only chance against me, kid. I take no one litely, more importantly than that, I take my role and responsibilities as champion even more seriously. I’ll not allow you to tarnish the beginning of what will be a long title reign. How long it will be is yet to be determined but it won’t be you that ends it. I don’t say this to be mean or disrespectful, to earn the shot against me, you have to be a warrior. You’re either a warrior or you’re not. I don’t think you are, but hey, go nuts and prove me wrong. I’ll leave you with this Auggie, two men have scored pinfall victories over me in one on one matches. Fenris and David Shepherd.

You are neither of those men, you lack their killer instinct and until you develop that more fully….

Well, you’ll always be where you are right now. Main Event fodder.

More To Be Done.
In-Studio - Bane Home
/Scene Opens\

The calm before the storm, I thought to myself as I stared at the camera. I had done a lot and probably pissed off more than one person with what I had said a couple of weeks ago. Did I care? No, not in the least, I was here for a reason. It was time to make that clear if I hadn’t already. I adjust the cufflinks on my stark white shirt. I can smell the heavy starch that they use in order to make this look as crisp as possible. The black slacks I’m wearing have a lighter starch in them but the creases are razor sharp. Black alligator boots and belt finish the look.

The last time I was in front of a Sin City crowd, I was defending my Internet Title against Miles. The Troll took exception to Milo sending flowers to the Troll’s mom. Under normal circumstances I would have sympathized with him for what he did. This is the Troll we’re talking about however, and that fat piece of shit stuck his nose in my business. So, Miles didn’t get a fair shot at winning that title. Neither of us was happy about that but nothing can be done about it now. Would it have made any difference if the Troll hadn’t inserted himself? No one knows to be fair and honest, Milo is one of those kids with so much potential that I know he’ll earn himself another shot at some point. Not the way I wanted to have my first defense to go. What I wanted was a decisive title defense, not some rolly polly coming out and ruining it for myself and Milo.

I shake my head in disgust as I remember what happened.

So, first we had Alicia Lukas, Queen for a day winner, giving Miles an internet title shot and herself a world title shot against my wife. How’d that work out for you? Then there’s Vinnie, the King for a day winner giving himself a world title shot against Mark Cross.

I shrug it off.

I can’t say that I blame you really, I might have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. Mark Cross is an interesting guy to say the least. Him and his hashtag four hundred club, that’s amusing to me.

The smile I was wearing is gone.

I’m laughing on the inside, no, really. I get it Mark, setting goals is important. Setting realistic goals, even more so. That led me to respond to your open challenge on social media. You told Underwood to put me on the waiting list?

My anger starts to bubble to the surface as my eyes narrow and my brow furrows.

I don’t feel like waiting, Mark. I’m not a patient man, you see, so at Climax Control I’m going to spell it out for everyone after my match. My match with David is a non title match, this surprised me. Has the good Shepherd not done enough to warrant a title shot? Does management not believe in you? Do you not believe in yourself? Doesn’t matter to me, this match is what it is. If you beat me, think of all the credibility you’ll gain. If you succeed you put yourself in a great position for a future shot at the Internet Title. If you don’t? Well, that just means you were the next victim on my way to the top. Make no mistake about it boys, that’s exactly where I’m going. Not that I don’t have work in front of me, I still have a lot of work to do before I get there.

I wink at the camera as the scene fades.

Fade

What are you up to exactly?
The Bane Home, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\

The flickering of a computer monitor bathes my face in an eerie light. My bleary eyes poured over the email again to make sure that what Aeric had told me was correct. I run my hands through my tangled hair and then let my arms drop by my side. Leaning back I mutter to myself, “This old bastard is trying to turn into a real land Baron it would seem.” I take a sip of my coffee, leaning forward and I study the last paragraph more closely. “The real question is do I care?”, I say with a bemused tone. The family place was something I bought and built with my own two hands. I wanted to make sure that my kids had everything I didn’t as a child. The offer was better than I would have thought the old man was capable of putting together. My place was four thousand acres of timberline. The property was thick with pine and oak trees with a small amount of mesquite. “He’s not even asking for the mineral rights...I just don’t get it.” I mused to myself.

My phone began to buzz, an incoming call from Aeric Bane according to my caller identification. I swipe the button across, “What’s up kiddo?”. “Hey Pop.”, he said, followed by a long pause. This is a real attention getter in my family, that boy talks ninety miles an hour and for him to pause, meant he was thinking. His thinking is never a good thing. It generally means either bad news or he’s got some crazy assed scheme in mind. “What’s wrong Aeric?” I asked in a matter of fact way that means spit it out, son. He knows the tone all too well as do all my kids. “Nothing really, I was just thinking….”, and there it was I thought to myself and my immediate instinct was to cringe. Makes me glad he wasn’t in the room. “Oh yeah? What were you thinking about, son?” I asked him. Another long pause of silence. “Aeric, you are making me nervous.” I say in a sharper than normal tone. I can hear him bark a laugh on the other side of this conversation.

“I know it’s not my strong point Pop, so I don’t blame you for having some reservations but I think I figured out why Mixon wants our land.”, and there it was, my son, the private detective. There are idiots, then there was Aeric, an idiot in tin foil armor. A heart the size of Texas and brain the size of a walnut. I allowed a slow breath out in hopes of hiding my frustration. “Oh yeah? So what do you think the old bastard is trying to do?” I honestly hated to encourage him but I love my kids and I love it when they try. “Well Pops, our land butts up against the Johnson Place, which he’s also trying to buy.” he started explaining. “Hold up.” I say quickly scanning the email that Aeric had sent me earlier. “Looks like your being a man-whore is paying dividends Aeric.” He laughs again, “We all have our strengths, right Pop?” Now it was my turn to laugh as he used one of my own phrases against me. “Indeed we do, son, indeed we do.”. “Latest is that the Johnson’s are going to sell. According to someone at the title office, they’ve agreed to sell him all mineral rights.” he informed me and I nodded along with what he was saying. “I found out the same thing, through a different source of course.”

“I’d love to get ahold of the mineral survey that was done on their place.”, I said mostly to myself, I wasn’t sure my son even knew what that was. I can hear him sigh, “It’s the third attachment in the email Pop.”, he said, chastising me for not being more thorough. Now it was my turn to bark a laugh, followed by the words, “Of course it is.” I opened the attachment, it was a thorough report but it really revealed nothing. It was standard for that part of Texas. “Maybe there’s nothing to find here.” I muttered to myself. “I mean, not everything is a communist plot.”, I said finally. My son began laughing, “You mean my childhood was a lie?”. Then I began to laugh, when they were children, if anything at all went wrong that’s what I would call it. It was something I had picked up when I was in the Navy.

Fade

More To Be Done Part Two.
In-Studio - Bane Home
/Scene Opens\

So, when I won the internet title, it was the expected outcome. You know, like Dave being an asshole. It’s expected.

I smile at the camera.

Now if I know Dave at all, he’s probably pissed about me calling him Dave. Religious types are always rather stuffy about that kind of thing. Just like they’re stuffy about sexuality. The truth is as forgeign to them as the possibility that same sex love exists. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though. One thing at a time.

My smile broadens as I begin to get into the meat of what I want to talk about.

You claimed for a long time that you hated Fenris, and then you laid a lip lock on him like hadn’t been seen in a wrestling match in ages. You’ve been preaching against homosexuality for months, even when your dad spoke out about your attitude about it, you shunned him. Imagine everyone’s shock when that happened. Then again, what should I come to expect from a wannabe cultist. You guys get tired of life in the compound or something?

I shake my head to indicate my disgust with who David is as a person.

Maybe you decided to use it as a psychological ploy, but then much to the surprise of everyone he kissed you back. That was entertaining as hell for everyone. The social media response was priceless. That brings us to an often misused term by those in the clergy. The Truth.

My gaze narrows and brow furrows again as I address my opponent.

Dipshit, you wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you on the ass. You don’t even have to be necessarily observant to know this about you, Dave. You’re a liar and a fraud. You lack integrity and even the common decency to address people properly. In my first match as the Internet Champion, I wanted to do nothing more than make a statement. Due to the interference of others I wasn’t able to do that. I guess you’ll just have to do, little man.

My gaze hardens as my intensity is more obvious and my anger is beginning to bubble to the surface. I begin unbuttoning my shirt, undoing the cuff links and I slide the shirt off of my body.

My body and the scars that I carry are like a roadmap to the story of my life in this business. My entire career I’ve been reckless, putting my body on the line, night in and night out. I am who I am, I put asses in the seats, whether Mark wants to admit it or not. I am the most logical number one contender to that world title that there is in this fucking company. This is my truth David. I’m sure you believe that I don’t deserve this belt or the accolades that go with it. The truth will be standing across the ring from you at Climax Control. They say that the truth hurts, and in your case it will be even more painful than you can imagine, kid.

I raise both hands, middle fingers extended.

That’s what I think about your opinion of me, Dave. I have absolutely nothing to gain by beating you. That is what is going to happen chief. So, we’ll find out if you’re a man or a fucking snowflake. What happens when I turn up the heat? I’m willing to bet you melt like the bitch that you are. At the end of the day, the only thing that gets settled is what Sin City already knew. I’m a dirtbag, no good bastard.

A Man Of My Word
In Studio
/Scene Opens\
[on-camera]

My body ached, still, from the fight that Fenris and I had at Climax Control. There were many bright sides to that though as I smiled through it all. One bright side is that my ears had quit ringing. To gain the trust and respect of someone like Fenris was important. Not to some perhaps but it was to me, to me he was the measuring stick of Sin City. Not many here could say that they went toe to toe with The White Wolf and came out better for it. The camera had been recording, I’d edit out the silence later. I looked up at the camera and smiled.

That moment, when you lose but you still win. The fight that Fenris and I had was an absolute show stealer. It was a fight that will be remembered around here for a long time, but that’s just one man's opinion. The more important aspect of this was that I got the opportunity to keep my word to Sin City’s Alpha.

I take up the Singapore Cane that’s propped against the chair I sit and hold it across my lap.

Now then, David, should you want your property back, all you have to do is come talk to me at Climax Control Three hundred and ask politely, then I’ll let you have your toy back.

Setting the cane aside, I lean forward, elbows resting on the knees of my freshly starched denim jeans. The button down I wore had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, so I felt the stiffness of the denim against my skin. I smiled again.

Much like I was chosen to face the Internet Champion, whoever that might be at Into the Void. We now know that will be O’Malley.  I was chosen as a partner for J2H. Not by management but by the man himself. His randomness can be a bit amusing and I’ll be the first to admit that he likely didn’t want me as a partner but here we are. Then again, to go after Ryans, I doubt he cared who it was that he had as a partner. Doesn’t bother me in the least. It’s all about opportunity.

I lift up and lean back in the chair, I cross my left leg over the right, resting my left ankle on my right knee. Giving a very casual look as I allow my arms to rest on the arms of the chair.

It provides opportunity not only for him but for me. O’Malley and I already know we’ll be meeting at into the void for the internet title. We also know that it will be highly competitive. Although I doubt he’d be willing to admit that. This is yet another opportunity for me to prove I belong. Whether we pin Ryans or O’Malley doesn’t make a bit of difference. One of them will get pinned. Whether it’s by me or my tag team partner, who I know when he cuts his promo…

I roll my eyes.

We’ll get to hear more about how great he is. You could try to deny him his due but that’s just stupid. He is one of, if not the most decorated wrestler in the history of this company. A man who not only deserves respect but demands it. Right, wrong or otherwise, he is who he is. He doesn’t care what others think and I’m much of the same mind. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of what I do or whether I’ve earned anything in their eyes. I said it not long ago, and  it’s the same thing that J2H said to Fenris.

Uncrossing my legs, I stand up to my full height.

You’re opinion of me doesn’t fucking matter. It’s your opinion and it’s none of my business. If you start buying into that particular game, you only hurt yourself when you believe their bullshit. The opinion of others simply doesn’t matter. Each person has to do what’s best for themselves. At the end of the day, you have to live with the things you’ve done, they don’t. Don’t just say you want to be better, to do better, be who you say you want to be. Don’t make excuses for the things you do. I do things the right way, that doesn’t mean I’ve never done it another way. I can be that guy, but I choose not to be. See the difference O’Malley?

Fade

The Grand Opening
The Bane Garage, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[off-camera]

A grand opening for a business is a big deal, especially when it’s our grand opening. This is something that Amber and I had dreamed about for a long time. Something we were both damn good at and have a real passion for. The sound of impact wrenches filled my ears while the smell of various fluids associated with the motors filled my nostrils. I smiled as I saw Amber, with a grease smudge on her right cheek and a beatific smile on her face. Her joy made me smile, we were still newly married so everything about her really, made me smile.

“Coffee”, she smiled taking the cup of black coffee from me as I offered it. It was still early morning and we had many of the locals here to talk to us, or I should say challenge our knowledge of the bikes we were proposing to work on. We simply smiled and answered their questions. We sipped coffee with them and answered their questions, to the satisfaction of many and to the chagrin of others who were sure they would stump us. A shared smirk and fist bump sent most would be party crashers on their way. It was the gentlemen on the nineteen sixty “Bonnie” that really took the cake though. This is a machine that embodies the phrase “classic bike”.

In an even baritone the older gentleman, who had white hair that was so white it was damn near a platinum blonde. His handlebar mustache matched the hair on top of his head. He had an easy going way about him which seemed to put Amber at ease but it raised all kinds of red flags in the back of my mind. “I mean, I don’t expect anyone here to know anything about my machine, honestly.” He stated in a very matter of fact way. This annoyed me for the obvious reasons.

“Oh yeah?”, I said in a very coy manner. He sneered at me after I said it.

“Yeah, especially not someone who doesn’t have grease under their nails.”, he said in an irritated tone. I looked down at my fingernails and he was right, I’d been out running errands that morning and hadn’t been able to work on a single bike yet.

“Well then, let’s start with this...For some, Triumph is the first and last name in motorcycles. Depending on who you ask, it's the very best motorcycle ever built. Triumph Bonneville made its first appearance in 1959, the Triumph Bonneville was named after the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, where it shattered numerous land speed records. We’re talking about a machine that easily reached speeds of up to 115 miles per hour, which for the time was crazy. Especially when we’re talking about the time, in the late 1950s and early 1960s. She was nicknamed the “Bonnie.” by those who truly appreciate her and loved her.”

The look of shock on his face was priceless, so I continued, “See that “V-Rod” over there?” I asked him in my own matter of fact way. He looked over to where I pointed and nodded. “Amber and I tore that one down and rebuilt everything in a day.” I looked over at where his Triumph Bonneville sat up on its kickstand. “What’s the story of your Bonnie?” I asked him genuinely intrigued that he would bring it in. He looked over at the glorious machine and smiled.

“Sometimes, it gets stuck in a high gear, and won’t downshift properly.”, He said in a more somber tone than he probably intended. I understand though, these machines are as much a part of the person's life as their kids are sometimes. Hell, if we’re honest, in some cases they are more important.

“Common enough, you’re a long time rider, or at least that’s my guess, so I won’t insult you with improper downshifting. Ever had to lay her down?” I asked him in earnest because I had a hunch I knew what the problem was. He nodded sagely at the question.

“I was in Dallas when that damn snow storm hit.” He started to say. “Sorry for cutting you off, you lay it down on the left side?” He motioned for me to follow him. I walked out to where the bike was and saw the still unrepaired scratches along the left side. My respect for this guy was sinking fast, but I don’t know his story so I’m trying hard not to judge. I see where the shifter looked like it was partially bent, which meant the spring inside was probably damaged as well.

“Looks like the shifter got damaged, which means the spring inside is probably damaged as well.” I said to him as I pointed at the slight bend in the shifter. “there’s a spring in the shifter that keeps its arm against the shifter detent. When it’s working right, the detent engages in preparing for the next shift.If this return spring is broken, the detent spins without engaging, and the shifter shaft would not be able to rotate the shifter drum.”

He looked at me and smiled, “My name is Sam.” he said as he reached out to shake my hand. “Mr. Bane I owe you and your wife an apology.” I shook his hand in return, “I’m Mac and this is Amber.” She shot him a smile as well, trying to put him at ease, but I could see the storm behind those eyes. This old fella dodged a bullet and he just wasn’t aware of exactly how lucky he was. I waved him off, “No problem at all Sam, did you want us to work on it?” He allowed a long slow breath to escape him and finally nodded. “I’d appreciate that. She belonged to my wife and I’d like to get her running and in top shape as soon as possible.”

I smiled at him, knowing how things become sentimental. “She’ll be ready by Saturday, go see Johnny at the desk and he’ll get everything sorted, including the price. I don’t like surprises, and our customers shouldn’t have any.” I told  him in a conspiratorial manner. He returned my smile and headed towards the lobby. It may have been my imagination but he seemed to have a pep in his step as he left us. I turned and looked at Amber, her eyes had welled a bit at the mention of his wife who had obviously passed being the owner. “Well Red, we have our work cut out for us.” I said to her in a way that I hoped spoke of the joy I was feeling. Judging by the smile on her face I’d say it was obvious.

Fade.

The Grand Opening Part 2
The Bane Garage, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[off-camera]

A few hours later…

There are few things that make me as happy as being in the ring and facing a worthy opponent. Working on bikes, especially classic motorcycles, that was a close second. It required patience and a steady hand working on some of these older machines. I always found it ironic that the things I enjoyed doing were done with a methodical approach. Whether it was dismantling an opponent or refurbishing a great old piece of iconic machinery. Each of these things brought me great joy.

A shadow fell over me as someone stood behind me, “is it what you thought?” came Amber’s question about the shifter I was working on. I looked over my shoulder and winked at her, holding up part of the spring, “Yes ma’am.”, then another piece of it. “Broke into three different pieces.”

“Oh, shit” she muttered almost under her breath. I laughed at her response as she came around to get a closer look.

“It gets worse actually”, I say to her, causing her eye brows to go up. “Uhoh…’ was her response to me.

“Yeah, there are no kits for this bike.” I said flatly as I continued on putting the new pieces into place. “Then how?....you shit, you fabricated them didn’t you?” I smiled at her and blew her a kiss. “Yes ma’am.”. She rolled her eyes and laughed, as I continued to place the new pieces together in the chamber. She came back around and looked at the pieces assembled in the housing and smiled. “That’s some damn fine work.”, she said admiring my handy work. I smiled at her again, “Why thank you, I bet you say that to all the boys.”. With an amused look on her face she said to me, “Why yes, yes I do.” As she sauntered away I just kept thinking, You’re one lucky sumbitch Mac.

Fade.

Final Word
In-Studio - Saxon Hotel
/Scene Opens\
[on-camera]

They labeled this a special attraction. Interesting name for it, I’ll say that much. That’s not to belittle the match at all, it is a showcase after all. A showcase for J2H and Kris Ryans, in their own opinion it’s the last of anything that they feel needs to be settled. A showcase for  myself and O’Malley as well. He’s the reigning and defending Internet Champion. I’m the man that wants to take away that title.

Kris and I have sort of been in a match together, not really a match of course. That swamp obstacle course bullshit but a loss is still a loss after all. It took me three days to get the smell of that match out of my hair and nose. I’ll be honest, to this day I still believe that had they given Amber and I a proper shot at the mixed tag straps, we would have taken the Black Sheep out and been the new champions. Not taking anything away from Kris or Mikah, that’s for damn sure. They were great champions. I know that Kris likely thinks I don’t like him and that’s simply not true. I have great respect for you as a competitor and I would have loved to have had a match against you one on one for the world title. You were without a doubt one of the best as world champion. You represented the company well, unlike the jackass known as Jack Washington.

O’Malley, this is the first time we will face off in a wrestling ring. Back when you were the roulette champion we were scheduled to face each other. You lost that belt to Kedron Ross, so we never got the chance to see if you could back up all your talk. I remember very well, early in the blast from the past, you said I wouldn’t do shite in that tournament and even if I did win it all, I still wouldn’t do shite. I could be pissed off and run you down about not doing shite with the opportunity you had but I won’t. Not because of any other reason than it brings me down to your level. You seem to have a real problem Chief. The problem is that you can’t get out of your own way. You keep self-destructing like a professional. Like it’s become your life’s goal to fuck up every good thing you’ve got  going for you.
In spite of all of that, you’ve earned my respect O’Malley, whether you believe it or not. I know you don’t care but I’m going to say it here. I think you need to hear it personally. The reason I have respect for you is because of your tenacity and your never say quit attitude. All that pissing and moaning you did on social media? I didn’t buy into it, I felt like it was all for show, just so the boss would throw you a bone. I say good for you. I mean we all do what we have to in order to make sure we stay relevant right? Augustino didn’t deserve to hold that belt, we both know that. That’s reserved for warriors. The real fighters of this company should be the ones going after the top belts.

That’s a couple of weeks away though and I’m not going too far ahead of reality here. The reality is, we have to get through this match. A match that won’t settle anything at all for any of us involved. This is the primer for the explosion that’s going to occur down the road. The real story is that J2H couldn’t wait six months to start his campaign on Kris. He’s a man who’s been accustomed to either getting what he wants or someone giving it to him without his asking. He’s my partner for this tag team match, and a damn good one. As for the “don’t fuck up” comment, I’ll do my best but I make no promises. I know that I should have left the sarcasm switch turned off but I just can’t help myself sometimes. I wouldn’t worry too much Chief, I think as a team we’ll be okay.

Mostly.

Maybe..

Ish…

Fade.

The Path Forward.
The Bane Home, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\

[on-camera]

The shot opens with me staring at the blinking red light of the camera not far away. It rests on a tripod and I still have the remote in my hand. I set it down and rub my bare arms, they are still bruised from a very busy week. Again, I’m wearing the sleeveless Mac Bane, Sin City t-shirt. It’s early so there’s still a bit of a chill. I slap the knees of my jeans in unison and stand up.

If you were expecting excuses or reasons that Myra and I lost, you’ve come to the wrong place. Cross and Steel were simply better. We own the loss and hey, Cross did something no one else has ever done in Sin City. He pinned me.

I continue to work out the kinks in my body, you can hear the audible pops as tendons and ligaments express their collective concern.

Am I going to be inconsolable since losing? Nah, fuck that. Pissed off, but not sad or depressed. Even being angry about a loss is short lived, it’s replaced by determination. It simply adds fuel to the fire that burns in me every day.

I stand near the firepit that has blazed to life, holding my hands out to the warmth.

What leaves me cold at times is the conscious decisions that people make. The decision to book me against someone like the troll.

I smile at the camera in a way that can only be translated as unfriendly.

Now then, Underwood says that it shouldn’t be misconstrued as a punishment or a slight. If you ask most men on this roster though, I think they would have a different opinion of that.

The smile turns into a smirk.

Don’t misunderstand, Christian, I don’t think you’re punishing me. It does send mixed signals though, why book me against this curtain jerker when you could have waited for Fenris to be cleared. Now that, is a television worthy match, and one I’m looking forward to in the near future.

The smirk I wear then turns into a sneer.

As for this...troll, kid, you ain't special. You’re simply next in line on my path forward. Make no mistake about it, you’re going to be feeling this one for weeks to come.

Fade.

The Path Forward II.
Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\

[off-camera]

The man known as Charles Marlowe stood triumphantly in what could only be considered a battlefield. The parking lot of the “MC” headquarters was covered in bodies and blood, the smell of sulfur and copper filled the air. It reminded me a lot of Afghanistan and Kuwait to be honest. The years of combat as a member of the forward operations team and construction battalion had taught me to stymie the emotions and focus on the task at hand. Charles knew it well, he had been a part of my unit then. The few people from the club that could still walk were handcuffed and led away to a waiting van to transport them to a holding facility. Their leader lay dead, not three feet from Charles.  John Pike would trouble no one, ever again. Neither would any of his lieutenants who had refused to surrender. They all went out in a blaze of infamy. Charles holstered his pistol and made his way to where I stood.

“Hell of a show you put on Chuckie.”, I smiled and shook his hand. He returned not really a smile but a grimace. It was then that I noticed he had been wounded, a stray bullet had torn into his right shoulder.

“Wasn’t my intention to start a fire fight, especially not so close to the strip.”, he shook his head in dismay at the carnage around him. That was about the time that Charles forgot his training and his stomach decided to relieve itself of all contents. I wrinkled my nose at the smell as he continued to be noisily sick.

“Chuckie, you really need to watch your diet more closely.”, I said to him as he began to laugh and half way choking on his own vomit. “Bastard”, he exclaimed between heaves. I nodded in agreement.

“Yes sir, there’s a lot of folks who would agree with that assessment of me.”, I said in a matter of fact way that generally makes people angry. Not Charles though. His stomach finally quietens down and one of his guys brings over a towel that has been soaked in water or some such liquid and he scrubs his face with it. Then a dry towel for his face and he straightens back up.

“Mac, anyone ever tell you that you talk too damn much?”, He takes a deep breath and hangs his head. I shoot him a wounded look and he laughs at my faked reaction to his insult. “Mac, never change.”

“I have no intention of it, Chief.” I smile at him again and begin walking towards my bike. “Don’t ever ask me to be involved in any bullshit like this again, Chuckie.” I say as I approach my V-Rod. One kick and it starts, if he said anything after that, it was lost in the sound of the motorcycle as I sped away from the scene.

Fade.

The Path Forward III.
The Bane Home, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\

[off-camera]

An old, rusted barrel sits not far from the fire pit. The flames had just begun to lick the top edges of the barrel. I throw another log into the barrel and after a brief moment it begins to consume the fuel provided. Once I’ve deemed it burning well enough, I go back to the patio chair. The vest I had been given and the cardboard box containing certain pictures that I don’t want to see anymore rest there. I pick them up and go back towards the barrel.

“Never again”, I say to myself as I toss the vest into the barrel. I wait a few moments for the vest to catch fire. Next, I reach into the cardboard box and grab the photo album that has mostly pictures of my father and it goes in as well. “Almost as good as an effigy.”, I say softly. Then the last piece, the old man's vest. I toss it in as well, causing the flames to leap higher. It doesn’t take long before the fire causes the barrel to turn red in places as the items burn hotter. The smoke coming from it is pitch black. I take the cardboard box back to the chair and set it down beside the chair. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, a shock of red hair and the smell of cinnamon. I smile as I see her approach. I reach down and start the fire pit.

“Hey Champ.”, I say smiling as she approaches. She returns my smile, although a bit restrained, I can see and feel the genuineness of it.

“Hey yourself.” she says to me, as I lean in for a kiss. The kiss, unlike her smile, is not restrained. We break our embrace, and she asks, “Cooking something?” she asks as the smirk comes to her face.

“Nah, just making sure the past stays in the past.”, I say, equally as light hearted. She arches her right eyebrow but doesn’t ask whatever question she has in mind. I put my arm across her shoulders and pull her in closer as we watch the barrel continue to burn. “I did once promise you that if you wanted, I’d set the world on fire so we could watch it burn together.”. Her laugh, it always has this silvery quality to it. This time is no different and when she looks up at me, her eyes sparkle, which causes me to pull her in tighter. When she looks at me like that, I feel like I could set the world on fire, just for her.

Fade

The Path Forward III.
in studio
/Scene Opens\

[on-camera]

The Troll, is how he refers to himself. He sits in his mom’s basement, whoofing down twinkies and sucking on bottles of coke. Honestly,  there's no shame in that and who am I to judge someone for the lifestyle they choose.

All that being said though, some things I do have to say about this matchup. I mean I would normally take the time to point out my opponent’s redeeming qualities.

I got nothing.

You do not appear to have a single redeeming quality. You talk shit to the women of this company, and you wouldn’t last three minutes in the ring with any of them. You, little man, are a piece of worm-ridden filth that doesn’t deserve to share oxygen with decent people. Let alone share a ring with someone like me. I won’t reduce myself to fat-shaming or anything like that but c’mon man! Get in shape, at least act like you actually belong here instead of a wanted poster for pedos.

You sicken every single person that comes into contact with you. I almost started to feel sorry for you up until I forced myself to watch one of your promos. After about 2 minutes of that garbage, any sense of sympathy, much less respect…

Gone.

That’s not even the worst part of what I have to tell you, big boy. The worst part is what happens next. What that is, is our match. See, you weigh almost as much as I do, the problem? You’re five foot eight. What does that tell any veteran of this sport? If you last as long as five minutes in the ring with me, you’ll soon start running out of stamina. From what I’ve heard that usually happens by the time you’ve walked to the ring.

None of this really matters, I know when you cut your promo from the basement of your parent’s house, you’ll be very brave. It will be all bluster though, you know it, I know it and most of all the fans know it. Not to say that you care about what the fans think, I mean I’ve seen the way you talk about them. To you they’re all marks, to us, you’re a glorified fan-boy at best. You have no relevance in the grand scheme of things, nor does management have any kind of plan for you. Nothing other than what happens this week.

You’re being punished, in the worst possible. You’re being placed in the ring with someone who has been in this sport for nearly twenty years. I’ve forgotten more about wrestling than you can hope to know. Not all is lost though young man. I mean I could fall down a flight of stairs and break my neck. I could be hit by a car or a train or an airplane. Or maybe, just maybe you’re good enough to beat me. I hope you don’t really believe that the last part is possible. What drew my attention to you, to begin with, was the way you treat women.

See, I was raised to believe that women were just as worthy of respect as any man who ever walked the earth. It’s not simply a southern thing that causes someone like me to hold a door open for a woman. Regardless of what you think their status is. I don’t talk down to them, I was raised with manners. It’s just common decency really, not that I suspect someone like you would understand or subscribe to that idea.

After this match though, you’re going to start seeing things in a fresh new light. As in, a flash of light, right before you blackout from the pain. I’m not coming to wrestle a match with you. No, Gabriel Thomas Wank. I’m coming to hurt you, not because I think you deserve it. Not because the women of the locker room are clamoring for it. I’m doing this because I can, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

“Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”
― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man


{Snuffing Out The Candle Of Hope - In-Studio - Mac and Amber’s House, Las Vegas, NV}

[On-Camera: Recording]

I stared out the window, the grey clouds streamed by overhead, driven by a strong south bound wind. My hands clasped behind my back and my head bowed in thought. I slowly unclasp my hands, the soft scraping of my denim sleeves against the belt loops of my jeans the only noise as I allow my arms to rest by my side. I slowly turn and face the camera.

“They say that dreams are born in the darkness, that a dreamer spends vast amounts of time in the darkness, with their focus on the light at the far end of their journey. The dreamer travels toward the source of light, that single point of hope. They develop tunnel vision and become devoted to a single path. That point of light where they can make their dreams become reality. Our opening round opponents felt this was true, all they had to do was get past Myra and I and their path was assured. Except for one thing, Amy and her partner, the former World Nightmare Champion from GRIME, Max Burke never thought they’d lose. Even though they were considered underdogs by a large margin. All you had to do is pay attention to the betting lines on the match. This is Vegas afterall.”

The lights in the room are dim, so I light two candles on the window sill. Then I turn back around smiling slightly.

“I’ve faced Bill before. The last time I was in Sin City, he’s who I fought for the number one contender status for the Roulette title. Granted, that title doesn’t really hold any prestige, but it allowed me to set a precedent. That being, that if I want something? I simply take it. That match against the so-called bulldog was as close as the title match I had with the champion.

It wasn’t.

Kedron was no champion, even that title deserved better than him. I’m the one that added prestige to that title, only briefly though as personal matters took me away from Sin City.”

I watch the candles burn, and then pinch the flame out of one of them with my thumb and index finger. I rub my thumb and index finger together with a smile.

“Max and Amy were at least worthy opponents, former champions in SCW and GRIME, respectively. Bill is known to me, just as Maki is known to Myra. I also know that Myra’s title is on the line in this match. It is not lost on me that should Myra and I lose this match, then your partner becomes the Bombshell Internet Champion as well. Just as long as it’s Maki that makes the pin. I’m not about to allow that to happen to Myra. Don’t get me wrong, she and I are not friends. We have the same goal. A shot at a world title. If nothing else, she learned last week that I don’t have a lot of patience. Time is money, if you want to put on a wrestling clinic, talk to boys and girls clubs of america, I’m sure they’ll accommodate you. Hell they might even pay you for your time.”

I extinguish the second candle in the same way as the first. I don’t turn back around this time though, I continue to stare out the window and watch the clouds roll by.

“Maki is Myra’s problem to deal with. Not a big problem, more of an annoyance really. Like Mosquitos in Texas in July. I mean, my favorite redhead destroyed you with minimum effort. Amber made you look like a clown, so I really won’t spend too much time on you. I will say that I tried to find something that I could give you a compliment of some kind on. Some redeeming quality of your character or some accomplishment that I could use. I went looking through the records of Bombshell division and, not that I looked that long or hard but I don’t remember your name being mentioned anywhere.”

I shrug my shoulders indifferently.

“Myra knows who you are and I guess that’s all that’s important. It won’t do you a damn bit of good, it will end the same way that our match against Amy and Max went. See, there’s a difference between doing whatever it takes, as I know you are both wired that way, and being able to do whatever it takes to win. You two are nothing more than a pair of wannabe stars. The proof is all over the damn place, I shouldn’t have to shine a spotlight on it for you two to understand. Yet here we are.

The team of Maki and Bill B. Two more dreamers in SCW, hoping to catch us unaware. You hope that we’ll look past you. You hope you’ll find some chink in our armor as a team. You hope that you can win.”

I turn my head just enough so the camera can catch as I smirk back at the candles again.

“And just like that, the light of hope was extinguished.”

Fade.

{Mac and Amber’s House, Las Vegas, NV - “The Plan”}

[Off-Camera]

I’ve always been the type of person that did the right thing, because it was the right thing to do. I’d recently visited with my old mentor, Frank Zane. Him and my dad had taught me that was the way to be. Frank insisted though that it was time to put more of who I really am out there for people to see. You have to be careful doing what I’m doing now, sometimes when you put yourself out there it can turn out badly. My focus now though was Charles Marlowe and the growing problem that the MC called the Bandido’s was causing in Vegas, not Vegas proper but in some of the outlier areas.

“You want me to, what?”, I asked again. Charles cringed, he knew he was asking me a lot. I also knew he hated to ask me. The problem was that he had been so severely injured that he was barely able to defend himself right now. He held up his hands in mock surrender, albeit very slowly. His right arm was barely out of a sling and it was still healing so his movements were much slower than normal.

“I want you to help me put a stop to them. Get their leaders and everyone involved.”, he stated again for probably the third time. I shook my head and stood up from the kitchen table. That’s when the pacing began, sure I’d done some wet work for Jeff a few times but this was different. These people knew who I was, they knew who my family was. Amber and I were supposed to be getting married in April for fucks sakes. I certainly didn’t want a wedding to turn into a funeral. At the same time though, taking on this kind of operation was something I was well accustomed to. It’s what the military had trained me to be.

“Chuckie, if I do this, you had better make sure there are eyes on every member of my family. If anything happens to them, I’m coming after you. I don’t give a fuck if you are a federal agent. You’ll be hurt in the same manner that they had been. You understand?”. I say with finality, he looks at me and I know he understands. I was more than certain that he knew about some of the things I had done overseas. I was also sure he disliked those things regardless of the reasons why or the orders that forced me into those situations. He kept giving me that look, a look that said many things without saying a word. Finally it was me that broke the silence.

“I’ll keep it as clean as possible, no one has to die, but also remember this. It’s my ass on the line out there and I’ll do whatever it takes to come home to my family.”, I stated it flatly and without emotion so he understood the gravity of the situation he had placed me in. What he didn’t realize was that this is such a big part of who I had become as a person that secretly and I hate to admit this. I embraced opportunities like this.

Marlowe simply nodded his head, “I understand, maybe now more than ever.”. He said it with emotion and conviction as he reached up and unconsciously touched the tender part of a wound that was still healing. The plan was that I would call on them and try to get a meeting to set up my joining the band so to speak. It turned out that I didn’t have to do any such thing…

My default ringtone began to play, “Badass” by Saliva echoed from the speakers on my mobile. The caller i.d. Read, “Private”, that could only mean that John Waverly Pike was calling. I walk away from Marlowe and accept the call. “This is Mac.”, I say as nonchalantly as possible. There’s a short pause before he responds.

“Bane this is Pike, have you reconsidered my offer?”, he asks in a voice that’s almost a whisper.

“I have.”, I responded to him in a soft, even manner. I knew his type, he hated the word no, and when that wasn’t what you gave them more often than not surprises them. This was one of those times. I had caught him flat footed, the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line was all I needed to hear to know that.

“Excellent, is the secret agent boy still there?” was his next question. That let me know they were watching him and my home. It was both good and bad at the same time.

“He is.”, that was the question I was dreading but it caused me to smile on the inside. I really couldn’t quite put a finger on why but the feeling of elation that came over me, that caught me by surprise.

“That’s good, if you step outside, you’ll find a box on your front porch. Inside that box are your colors.” He said in a more confident voice. “You don’t have to wear them in public, or even to the ring. Just the fact that you’ve accepted them is all me and the boys need. Don’t worry about Marlowe, we’re not going to kill him.”

I look back over my shoulder at Marlowe, he nods at me as the line goes dead.

Fade.

{In-Studio, Las Vegas, NV - “Garbage Time”}

I stood in front of the Sin City Wrestling backdrop, just hours before showtime. The camera was already rolling. The black leather duster and stetson are now gone. Replaced by a skull cap with my brand on it and a sleeveless shirt of denim with pearl snaps down the front of it. Faded jeans and black boots complete the outfit. My hair hangs loosely around my shoulders instead of my usual ponytail. It was time to address the Sin City faithful before mine and Myra’s second round match against Maki and Bill.

“Where do I even begin with this horseshit, y’all?” I say with emotion in my voice. I had been involved with a social media dispute earlier in the day with Maki. I shake my head in disgust.

“Anytime a competitor says on social media, “I’ll just let you maximize your ring time and beat Myra for the Internet Title….”, really mother fucker? So, what if it’s you and I that start the match and I beat you senseless and she never even sniffs the fucking ring?”

I’m angry about his attitude towards the match. I hadn’t even watched his promo yet, I’d do that later. This was about him being lazy and worse, her being an idiot.

“Maki, you’re a dipshit. Instead of being pissed off by your partner’s lack of enthusiasm for even being in this tournament, you told him thank you?”

I give the camera my best “what the fuck” look.

“Seriously? And I quote, “Thank you, Daddy Bill”. I’m going to enjoy watching Myra destroy you. Oh, and by the way, your match against Amber was never competitive. She beat your ass, and you know it.”

Grumbling angry words under my breath and now pacing. The fact that the camera operator and the boom mic attendant couldn’t keep it together because of what I had said was not lost on me. They were openly laughing at the comments I had made.

“Even the ham and eggers here are laughing at you two. It’s almost like they see you as the punchline to some really bad joke. You’re used to that though aren’t you Billy Bob. I mean, you didn’t even want to team with your old lady anymore right? Told her not to worry about whether she was booked for the shows. You needed her to support you in your endeavors. If Bea is smart and I know she’s smarter than you Bill. She’ll hire a good attorney and cut her losses. You don’t even deserve to be in the same ring with athlete’s like Myra and I. You’re a waste of fucking carbon. Where is your drive, your ambition, your passion for this business?”

I must have struck a nerve with the crew, they had stopped laughing and now were studying me very intently. Hanging on my every word.

“Maybe that part of this is lost on you Bill. Maybe you simply don’t get it. You are simply too damn dumb for this business. You’re lazy as well and I think that makes it even worse. Did you wake up one morning and realize you’re not talented enough for this tournament and would never win a world title here? Did you give up and decide...fuck it I’ll let Maki take us as far as she can?”

I sneer at the camera as I continue.

“It must be hard to rely on the talent of others, even though you know in this case. It’s simply not enough. Maki, for all of your talent, how ever much or little that might be. It won’t be enough. You are like the proverbial one legged man in an ass kicking contest. You’ve been handicapped for the second year in a row with a partner who doesn’t share your passion for competition. He’s satisfied to just still have a job. He collects a curtain jerkers paycheck and is more than happy with that. If it wasn’t so damn pathetic, I’d feel sorry for you both. He’s not committed to the task at hand like my partner is. Myra’s more man than Bill is, and that’s the damn truth. I’m sure you’ll be fine in the ring against her unless you piss her off and the ring bell is handy that is.”

I allow the memory to come to me and I smile.

“That’s what my partner is capable of. I know she’s turned over a new leaf since she’s been here and I applaud that. Knowing though what she’s capable of if she’s pushed to the limit or if someone pushes her buttons too often. That’s the difference between her and you Maki. She knows what it takes, and she’s not afraid to go there. You don’t have one tenth of Myra’s ability and less than that when it comes to passion for this business. You didn’t have an exit strategy in mind for this tournament because you thought that no one could beat you. You’re about to find out how very wrong you are about that. You’re about to find out first hand what it’s like to have that light of hope extinguished. Like they say in other pro sports though, there’s always next year.”

Fade.

“I was never trying, necessarily, to be an outlaw. It was just the place in which I found myself.” - Hunter S. Thompson


/Scene Opens\
/Off-Camera\

Even after days since the event, too many showers to count, and a neti pot. The stench of stagnant water was still in my nose. I couldn’t decide what was worse, the smell, or the not a no but not a yes either from Amber when I proposed. It’s hard to describe, the feeling of bearing your soul to the one person who means the most to you in this world. To get an “I don’t know if I can.”, it’s a difficult pill to swallow. It certainly wasn’t about pride, no pride and ego got decimated in that fucking cess pool of a “match” that they put us in.

What in the actual fuck was that?

I shake my head in dismay at the thought of the Bayou match that we had to participate in as our debut as a team. Losing to those two stung, more than just a little bit.

Fucking Black Sheep…

I take a deep breath, hoping to not smell stagnant water again, but there it is.

[/color=limegreen] eh, could have been worse. Could have been a loss against someone like Augustino or Calloway.[/color]

I shake my head, hoping I never have to see that day. I take the ring box out of my blue jean pocket. I open the box and stare at the ring. Only for a moment before closing it again and putting it back in my pocket. The mornings in Vegas were cool but hadn’t quite gotten to crisp, as they had in Baltimore, or Atlantic City yet. I hadn’t seen much of Amber since the proposal, only short periods of time, like prepping for our match against the black sheep. I still got the occasional text from her, probably checking on me to make sure I’m okay. We’re still together, her rejecting my proposal or was it really a rejection? I push the thought out of my mind as my phone begins to buzz. The text message is from booking.

[You are booked against Calloway for the upcoming show.]

I think disgust is the best I can use to describe how I feel after seeing that.

Well, fuck. Mr. I can’t cash in on an opportunity at a title shot eh? That’s fine.

I send the confirmation back to booking.

Fade

---

/Scene Opens\
/Off-Camera\

I’m the type of man that doesn’t have to go looking for trouble. It seems to have me on speed dial and GPS location services cranked up to eleven. Two wheels, and the road beneath me was what I had felt would be good for my soul. I had taken a long assed ride, with no particular direction in mind. The cool air at eighty miles an hour on a hog had helped to flush the majority of the stagnant water smell from my nose. I’d eased off the highway and pulled into a spot where I could get a drink. It was a hole in the wall dive, far from Las Vegas. I parked far from the other bike’s that were here, a courtesy in my way of thinking. In addition to the fact that I didn’t want anyone to confuse me as part of something I hadn’t been a part of in a long time.

It wasn’t until I went to reach for my everyday carry that I noticed the decal on the gixxer. I knew that logo, I prayed that it was either a former member or a pretender. I loosen the pistol in my shoulder holster, just in case.

[/color=limegreen] You better be playing pretend kids, if the knights find out your in town they’ll be pissed.[/color]

Despite my better judgement screaming at me to get on my bike and take my ass home, I turned the collar of my jacket up and opened the door to the bar. Unfortunately, it was not some pretender, there were half a dozen members of the “Bandidos”, all sitting at the bar. The bartender, an elderly man, probably in his early sixties looked terrified. I took my riding gloves off as I walked towards the bar, slapping them against my right thigh as I made my way. The dust from my jeans flew off, looking like a cloud in the few rays of sunlight that came cascading through the nearby window. The noise they made garnered some attention from the men at the bar.

We don’t serve your kind here.

The big man said to me flatly and without amusement or mirth. I looked over at the bartender who was trying his best to wave me off and get me to leave and I just smiled at him and at the guy sitting at the bar. I sauntered up to the bar, doing my best John Wayne stride. I leaned up next to the bar.

My kind huh. You own this bar?

When he smiled I thought it was a trick of the light, you really don’t expect perfectly straight teeth or a brilliant smile when dealing with folks like this.

Somethin like that.

Again I smiled at the man, see, when you’re trying to pick a fight with someone, the last thing you really want to do is remain seated.

Well then, perhaps I can serve you, buy you a drink.

The man glared at me as I smiled at him.

Bartender another round for these fine, upstanding gentlemen. Johnny Walker Blue for me.

The man sneered at me over his beer, then he said something stupid.

Want me number too sweetheart? Maybe you want me to fuck you later?

I looked down at the man who was still seated. I smiled at him as I took out my phone, his buddies started to laugh.

No princess, I’ve already got your number.

He was struck dumb in that moment. He just looked at me like a doe does before it gets hit by a car.

See, you already violated the golden rule my friend. If you’re going to start shit with someone you don’t know. The last thing you should do is remain seated.

That’s when he tried to stand up.

We ain’t….arg….god...that...hurt

As soon as he had tried to stand, I buried the heel of my cowboy boot on the side of his knee. It folded up nicely. Then I slammed his face into the bar on his way to the floor. The other five were drunkenly trying to get out of the chairs at the bar. They were doing a bad job of it as well. I just shoved the closest one and down they went like a drunken domino tower.

Barkeep, now would be a good time to call the cops.

With the commotion, that was all the barkeep needed as he ducked down behind the bar and called nine one one. They were all ready to fight, all six of them until my .45 cleared its holster. Evidently a few of these boys were ex-military and immediately recognized the nineteen eleven A that I was carrying. Once they settled down, I put my pistol back in it’s holster. The cops showed up to find all six of them seated on the floor.

The bartender told the police about the harassment by the group and what I’d done in order to get them calmed down. He kept saying…

“Damndest thing I’ve ever seen…”

I did finally get my drink though. The poor barkeep offered me the entire bottle of Johnny Walker Blue for what I’d done.

Thanks, I appreciate it.

If he had money to throw away like that, I mean who am I to argue. They began leading the group out of the bar.

Maybe you ain’t cut out for this outlaw shit boys. You should probably find another means of making money. I hear Walmart is hiring.

I say with sarcasm dripping from my voice. A string of profanity by the group as they were being forced out of the bar by the local police. I laughed, and so did the bartender.

Fade.

---

/Scene Opens\
/On-Camera\

Leaning back in the mesh-backed office chair, I roll up my sleeves as I prepare to cut my promo for Sin City Wrestling. My shoulder length hair hangs loosely as I look down at my ripped jeans and cowboy boots. I finally finish rolling my sleeves up and I stand up to my full height.

When I beat...oh...what the hell was his name….guess it doesn’t matter. When I became the number one contender for the Roulette Championship. O’mally had the balls to walk out there and tell me that I had to earn my shot. To make matters worse, I don’t even get to face that jackass for the belt. All that flappin your gums and you can’t even defend the title?

Dafuq is wrong with you.

It’s rhetorical

If you’re keeping score at home, that means it requires no answer.

Thinking to myself, I really need to send Amber a text, I need to talk to her.

None of that matters now. The tag team loss to the black sheet? Ancient history. This week, go home show, it’s me and you Calloway.

I scratch at my beard for a moment, then smoothing it out I continue.

See, Stevo is one of those people who likes to think of himself as a contender for the Sin City Title. That’s what he said prior to the last match he was in, isn’t it? A ladder match. All you had to do was keep Austin Mercer or Augustino off that ladder in order to secure a prize for yourself. A shot at the title. You simply couldn’t manage that. So, now, It’s Mercer with the title shot and you get to be my warm up.

I smile at the camera knowing how much he hates hearing that. No man wants to be regarded as nothing more than a tune up for another guy getting a title shot.

You were so focused on the Covid outbreak, I think you spent more time on that than talking about your opponents. I suppose it’s understandable, being so far from home and missing the comforts of home. I would say I feel your pain but I don’t.

I maintain my smile as I sit back down. I lean forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees.

I refuse to live in constant fear, of course, when you’ve died twice in your life it kind of goes without saying. I fear nothing Calloway. I have no reason to.

I allow the smile to fade from my face. Drawing my hair back into a ponytail, I rub the scar that shows on the display.

Kandahar, Afghanistan in nineteen ninety four. The navy medic who patched me up thought I was dead, they say I had no pulse.

I undo the top three snaps on my shirt. Moving the left side of the shirt further to the left. The start of a scar shows on the camera.

Dallas, Texas in nineteen ninety six. I’ll spare the details but that scar runs from my collar bone down to my navel. A maniac with a machete tried to end my life over a poker hand.

I move it back and refasten my shirt.

[/color=limegreen] So, if you don’t like the fact that I don’t think much of you or your ability to talk the talk  and walk the walk. Maybe that will shed a little light on it. Those men who tried to kill me, told me they were going to do just that. They failed.[/color]

My smile is completely gone now, replaced by nothing that would indicate any kind of good nature. My face hardens around my eyes and I set my jaw.
When I watched your promo for that last match...I thought...wow. I don’t mean wow, like I was blown away. I mean wow, what a pathetic piece of garbage you are. Six month plan? Fucks sake dude. I don’t think you’ll last six minutes in the ring with me. How the hell will you ever challenge for a Sin City title match?

I shake my head in disgust.

The mighty Stevie Calloway trying to turn over a new leaf by eliciting sympathy from the Sin City faithful? Hey Steve, you can find “Sympathy” in the dictionary, somewhere between shit and syphilis. Seriously broh, be a man, fight the fight. If you want to go home, go the fuck home.

Fade

“He’s not a bad fellow, although an imbecile at his profession” - Arthur Conan Doyle










/Scene Opens\

[Off-Camera]

Fall had arrived in the desert, well, fall for Vegas anyway. It was still very warm, not to the point of being sweat inducing but pretty close. The nights were cool and becoming crisp, well crisp for a thin blooded Texas guy anyway. The sun still had not come up, but I was outside by the fire pit with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I had been trying to get some things sorted in my mind, things around my relationship with Amber mostly. I relight the cigarette, for probably the third time. It always seems that when my mind is overloaded or I feel overwhelmed, she appears out of thin air. This morning was no different, the hurricane painted red, Amber Ryan was everything I had wanted in a woman, lover and partner in this crazy shit we call life. I can count the number of people I would take a bullet for on one hand. Three of those were my children, my oldest friend, “Godly” Ken Davison and Amber Ryan. I had fallen so hard and so completely for this woman it truly boggles my mind at times. I continued to watch as she approached clad in one of my t-shirts that looked like a dress on her, and leggings. She folded her legs up under her as she sat near me by the fire pit.

“This is early, even for you Mac. Something bothering you?”, she asked calmly if not politely. I give her a knowing smile, “Not anything wrong, love, trying to figure some things out is all.”. She crinkles her nose at me, “I knew something was causing you some sleepless nights.”. She pauses to take a sip of her coffee. “The match with Barnhart?”, she asked. I chuckle a little, “No, I’m not worried about that semp in the least.”. “No, this is about us Amber, that’s what has been causing me sleepless nights Darlin.”. She looks at me with obvious concern, “Not quite sure I follow…”. I smile and lay a hand on hers, then lift it up and kiss her knuckles gently. “I’ve been thinking about us for a long time my love.”. “It’s not anything negative, as amazing as we are together, the future, that’s what I’ve been thinking about.”. I pause for a moment to judge her reaction, never play poker with Amber by the way.

“I love you, Red, and I can’t imagine my life without you. The real question is, what does that future look like?”, I sigh, then smile. “I know this is far too deep a conversation to have at five in the morning.”. She looks at me with a deer in the headlights type look, “Well, i did ask…”. I shoot her a wink, “That you did.”. She frowns, but only for a moment, she then grabs my hand with both of hers and returns the gesture, kissing my scarred up knuckles. “Same old man, I couldn’t imagine my life without you being in it.”. I chuckle, “hey now, watch that old stuff.”, and I shoot her a wink. That was one of the running jokes between us. “But you’re such a pretty old man.”, she winks at me. I point to my face, “This old thing?”. Thanks to timing, I almost get her, the coffee almost comes out of her nose as she struggles to swallow. “Ass!”, she exclaims almost angrily. “Yes ma’am.”, I smile knowing that in this case close was close enough. I smile with pride at the accomplishment. You’ve no idea how hard it is to surprise this woman much less catch her off guard.
 
Fade










/Scene Opens\

[off-camera]

Family dinners; they’ve been a thing for my family for a long time. One of the things in this life that brings me joy is watching all of them enjoy what I’ve prepared. This was one of the few times that I wouldn’t allow anyone to help with the dinner. My kids and most of my friends love Amber, but I wanted to be sure they could all co-exist. This was extremely important to me, regardless of what I do in the ring, things outside the ring hold just as important a place in my heart. The menu was made up of mostly Texas foods. Smoked brisket, smoked pork butt, collard greens, cornbread, black eyed peas, and peach cobbler for dessert. It was really my first time to cook for Amber in this kind of setting. Come to think of it, I didn’t know if she could cook. It didn’t matter really, this was one of the few times in months that we’d had time for anything like this. As we sat down to eat, I seriously thought that her eyes were going to bug right out of her face.

Amber, “I had no idea….”, she stammered to complete the sentence. Jimmy laughed, Jules glared at him. “That I could cook?”, I asked her. Then Jules turned her glare on me, “Duh”. Then the whole table erupted with laughter. “Ah, you probably don’t remember, but we were in a place called Boardwalk together and I used to do this for the talent there.”, I smiled as I completed the sentence. “That might have been before I got there.”, she shrugged. I return the smile, “Probably, that was a long time ago.”. Jules all throughout the dinner had remained in a state of discontent. I of course had felt the buzzing in my pocket as my daughter had likely tried to covertly tell me something. So, I dug my phone out, seven messages from Jules. “I’ll be right back, I need to go see about this.”, I say as I raise my phone up. I stepped onto the back porch and looked at the messages. They all said the same thing.

When are you going to ask her?

I smiled at the message, I knew that my daughter loved Amber, looked up to her even. That made me happy. Jules was a mess after Melissa died, and I probably didn’t help at all, because so was I. So, I reply to the message.

Soon kitten, very soon

I return to my position at the table and smile at everyone, “I apologize, but it was important.”. Amber smiles and nods, accepting my explanation. Jules is a much happier kid after I replied to her message and doesn’t say much still. Being a father, well, it will teach you patience. Being a single dad raising a teenage daughter will re-teach you what you believe patience is. I had set the phone on the table and it buzzed again. I see a brief preview of the message, “When?!”. I shake my head. “Nope, that can wait.”, I declare and grab the phone and fling it over the couch.

I laugh as I watch my childs expression, Jimmy knew what was going on and couldn't contain himself any longer. He continues to try and hide his amusement and begins to laugh. Amber of course had become suspicious and was watching the exchange. I hold up my hands to forestall the eruption, “I promise, I’ll explain later. It kind of goes along with the talk we had the other day.”. She nods and then begins laughing, “Oh!”. Again the table erupts with laughter. After a moment the laughter dies down and Jimmy has questions, Jimmy always has questions. “Pop, what about this Barnhart guy?” I level a steady gaze at my son, “James you know my rules, no work talk at the dinner table.”. He sighs in exasperation, then looking over at Amber he asks another question, “So, when do we get to start calling you mom?”. “Oh, for fucks sake.”, Amber says quietly.

Fade.











/Scene Opens\

Once again in my recording studio. I’ve found over the years that these are the types of things that pay for themselves quickly. An in-home studio is ideal for this type of work. With the camera showing online and my focusrite amplifier showing good levels, I start out standing, I want to show the audience that I’m very serious about this match. I begin…

”I’ll be the first one to admit that I don’t know much of the history of Sin City Wrestling. What I do know is that like myself, Barnhart has never won anything here. Not anything that mattered anyway. You talked a lot of shit, Clownshoes.”

I pause there and smile at the camera.

”I refuse to call you by your moniker, it’s an insult to the animal in question. By comparison Bill, a dog is a brain surgeon, you’re an idiot. Too many shots to the head with a chair?”

In contrast to Bill, who did nothing but talk about his past failures, and there was a list of failed title attempts to his credit.

“ I don’t dwell on past accolades or failures, there’s a ton I could talk about but since it didn’t happen here, why would anyone care?”

My smile slowly slides away, replaced now with a look of contempt for the slob I’ll have to share a ring with.
“You don’t seem to have any respect for someone you know exactly zero about. It’s really not hard to find information on me, I’m just a google search away. You do know how to use Google, right? Guess they didn’t teach you about that in Georgia, huh?”

My expression lightens but only slightly so that my level of disgust is obvious.

“So let me clue you in Billy boy. I have a great many advantages over you. We’ll start with relevance. I know that words with more than one syllable are problematic for you, so I’ll explain what that word means.”

I allow a small smile to return to my face.

“ It means I matter Bill.”

The smile remains as I continue.

“ I’m the only person in this match that has any relevance. I know that will be hard for you to digest and probably even understand. This is my second match in Sin City boyo. Think about that, just for a moment. My second match in this company will decide a new number one contender to face someone that you’ve never been able to beat. Not only that, you tapped out.”

My expression takes on a more serious note as I talk about my physical limitations.

“I do have a couple of disadvantages in this match as well Bill. Both knees have been scoped, and I’ll be turning forty-five soon.  So I’m definitely at a disadvantage when it comes to age and wheels. You already know this I’m assuming, not that the knowledge will do you any good.”

The stern, business as usual expression remains.

”The important thing to note here Bill is that you have to be smart enough to actually take advantage of that. You’re not exactly a road scholar sir. A dirt road scholar maybe….nah...not a chance.”

I approach the camera slowly to emphasize a few points.

“For some odd reason, people like you believe that you have the market cornered on violent matches. That makes me laugh, when they bring it up.”

I extend my index finger to count it off.

“See, I’m a technician in the ring Billy, I don’t need to use weapons to win a match.”

I extend my second finger.

“Gimmick matches to me are just for the crowd and do exactly nothing for the wrestler. Because, Billiam I can bust you open with my bare hands.”

Ring finger extended.

“All I need are the soup bones that I swing around, they’re called fists for those of you following along at home.”

Pinky extended now.

“Maybe the most important part in all of this and you’re going to find this out Bill. I’m a very old school kind of guy.”

Finally my thumb comes out, and then I close it into a fist.

“I value tradition, a dedication to an elevated standard that most wouldn’t understand. A lesser number of people would even appreciate what I’m doing and the goals I’ve set for myself.”

I lower my fist and lean into a close up of my face and the final words I need to impart.

“You’re not special triple B, you’re just next in line to serve as a speed bump on my way to bigger and better things. I don’t expect you or anyone else to believe what I’ve said here today, but your true advantage, and you can tell them all about it. You can tell them how your game was elevated by “The One Man Wrecking Crew’ Mac Bane and that you’re forever grateful. See? You don’t have to believe it, you’ll get to live it, and they’ll get to watch it unfold in that same old inevitable way. You don’t get to win this one Bill, but I’m sure there will be success in your future endeavors.”

Satisfied with the end results, I set down to package the recording to send off to Sin City Media Relations.