[DrakeGreen]

 Why?: Part I


”If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.”–W.C. Fields

December 11th, 2015 – Hilton Lac-Leamy – Ottawa, Ontario – 10:00 AM

[The camera fades in to the restaurant inside of the fancy Hilton Lac-Leamy in Ontario. In walk Drake Green and Barry Goldstein. Drake is wearing a black blazer, white shirt, and blue jeans. Barry is wearing a gray pinstriped suit with a bright orange tie. Drake has a nervous look on his face but Goldstein looks as clam as can be. They both look around the restaurant as Barry breaks the silence.]

Barry: Will you calm down? You look like we're about to rob the place.

[Drake shoots him an annoyed look.]

Drake: No...you just want me to sell my soul.

Barry: Don't be dramatic. Nobody's selling anything...at least not yet. Oh there he is.

[Barry sees SCW Co-Owner “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward sitting across the room at a table, drinking a tall Mimosa. He's wearing a white sports coat with a red flower in the lapel and an open collared pink shirt. He sees them, raises his glass, and smiles widely as he motions them over. Barry turns back to Drake.]

Barry: Here we go.

[The two men walk over to where Ward is sitting. He stands up as they arrive and stretches out his arm to which Barry eagerly grabs and shakes. When he lets go of Barry's hand, he holds it for Drake to shake. Green looks down at it before looking Mark in the eye. He smirks and then takes his seat. Ward nods his head at the World Heavyweight Champion before taking his seat as well. Barry joins them.]

Barry: So, let me start by saying-

[Mark interrupts him.]

HS: Look, I'll cut right to it.

[He takes a sip of his Mimosa.]

HS: The way I see it, this little thing of ours, is costing us both alotta money, yeah? And the truth is I like me money and I know ya do too.

Drake: I'm not doing for the money, Mark.

[Hot Stuff laughs.]

Drake: What's so funny?

HS: You are, Showtime.

[Drake stands up.]

Drake: This was stupid. I'm done.

HS: Sit down.

[Hot Stuff glares at Drake and Green reluctantly sits back down.]

HS: There. That wasn't so hard was it?

Drake: Get to the point Mark.

[Ward flashes a grin at him again and then motions to the waiter standing just a few feet away. The waiter, in a white jacket, comes over and pours a glass of forty year old scotch right in front Mark Ward.]

HS: The point is that me and you....we need to be working together. All this hostility isn't doing anyone any favors. And I think you agree.

Drake: I don't

HS: Sure ya do. If ya didn't then we wouldn't be sitting where we're sitting would we? You saw my offer?

Drake: I did.

HS: And?

[Barry interjects.]

Barry: It's very generous.

HS: I was asking him.

Drake: I did.

HS: It was generous?

Drake: I'm sitting here aren't I?

HS: Then what's the problem, mate?

Drake: The problem is that I would never be able to look myself in the mirror again. The problem is that you are everything that I stand against. You are the epitome of everything that is wrong in professional wrestling today and I came her to say...against my agents wishes...to go fuck yourself.

[Mark Ward stares at Drake for a moment. After a long pause he lets out a smirk and replies to the World Heavyweight Champion.]

HS: You're off the hook.

Drake: What?

HS: I said you're off the hook. This deal, my deal, lets you off the hook.

Drake: And what hook is that?

HS: The hook of having to be everything you think you should be. The hook of having to put on the face that doesn't belong to you. The hook of having to fake it through life.

Drake: I'm not faking...

HS: Oh shut it. You're the only one in the world that doesn't know you're full of shit. Just imagine how free it would finally be. To be able to tell everyone who tells you what to do to go fuck themselves. To have a drink and a smoke and not have to lie about it. To have all that fucking money and not have to be sorry about where it came from. You and me, we was meant to be a team, Drake. We was meant to do great things together. It's time. It's time to let it all go. It's time to get off the hook.

[He smiles as he slides the glass of scotch across the table at Drake.]

HS: Get off the hook, Drake.

[Drake stares at the glass for a moment before grabbing.]

Drake: Fuck it.

[He grabs the glass as the camera cuts out.]


”I almost laughed when Mark told who my next defense would be against. It wasn't because I think you're a joke, Casey. I mean...I do think you're a joke...but that's not why I laughed. I laughed because I completely forgot about you. I mean I really forgot that you were supposed to my teammate and compadre. You were that insignificant and useless to me. In fact, you're that insignificant and useless to everyone here in SCW. Except for people needing a cheap easy win that is. Loss after loss after loss. You've made yourself quite the bottom feeder here. So when you begged Christian for a title shot this week there was nothing else for me to do other than laugh. I've watched you for years now.”

"We've done this before, man. I've kicked your ass on multiple continents and I'll be glad to do it again. I have no idea why Christian Underwood would give you a shot for ither of my titles. That's right, I have two and you have nothing. You have nothing because that's what you deserve. It doesn't matter who gets in that ring with me. I think I've proven that over and over again. I think I've proven to the world that no matter how big and dumb, no matter how long the winning streak, I always win. You and I might have a history. You and I might have danced this dance before. Each time we do, the result is the same. Each time I kick your fucking ass and move on to something more important. This time won't be any different.”

"You're meaningless to me. I mean the fact that I even have to talk about you...for like the zillionth time, is fucking annoying. The fact that someone a talented as me, someone as decorated as me, has to waste his time in the ring with someone who should be in a dark match with Jin fucking Watanabe is annoying me. So when you tap out on Sunday, or when you get pinned, or thrown into a Santa's Sleigh, or what ever the fuck it is that will win this stupid match we're in, I want you to realize that for the final time you will have the chance to experience the greatness that is me in the ring. You'll get to watch the greatest of all time up close and personal. You'll get to experiece the real show. You should owe me fucking money.”