Again?


“The more inhuman we became the more we understood each other as humans.”

― Cameron Conaway, Caged: Memoirs of a Cage-Fighting Poet



An Interview With The Champ.

Somewhere in Vegas

/Scene Opens\

[Off-camera]


One of the things I had come to despise as a part of being a champion is the schedule. It goes with the territory but Amber and I got to see less and less of each other. She was off doing a radio interview and I was meeting an internet reporter to do the same. I watched as the steam rolled off the top of my coffee cup as I added sugar and a little creamer to it. I stirred it and lifted it up for my first sip. I caught a glance of the wouldbe interviewer over the rim of the mediocre coffee I was consuming. It took all my restraint to not spew coffee everywhere, I looked at this kid and he could be the troll’s little brother. By little, I mean younger, not smaller. Down to the self confident smirk he wore as he approached the table. He didn’t wait for an invitation, he simply spun the chair around backwards and plopped himself down. I continued to sip my coffee, ignoring his presence. I really don’t like rude people, especially from the younger generation. A much taller and muscular man made his way to the table. “Good morning Mr. Bane, has my associate introduced himself?” I look up and smile at the taller man, “No, he just made himself at home.”, I replied, gesturing to the younger man.


Without warning the taller man slapped him in the back of the head, “Maurice, we discussed this. You should always introduce yourself and ask to join someone we are interviewing. It’s common courtesy for God's sake!” Maurice rubbed the back of his head and glared at the taller man, “Josh, I told you before not to do that again, I’ll go wait in the van.” Without another word, Maurice hightailed it out of the small cafe to the van that I supposed was waiting outside. “Let me guess…” I began and Josh finished the thought for me, “yes he’s the owner's nephew.”. I shook my head in disgust, “I wish you luck with that one Josh, that’s going to be an uphill battle for you and his uncle. Please have a seat.” I said to him and gestured to the empty chair that Maurice had previously occupied. He spun the chair back around and sat down with a notebook and pen in hand. I gestured to the coffee cup still upside down in front of him, “Caraffee is full if you’d like some.”. He nodded his appreciation, turning the cup over and filling it. “Thank you sir” he finally replied after taking his first sip of black coffee. 


“I’ll have to remember this place, that coffee is pretty good.”, he said as he looked up from his notebook. I smiled and nodded, “That’s the reason I chose this place. These small mom and pop operations are the best. It almost reminds me of home.” He nodded, “So you really are from Texas?” he asked. I smiled my slow easy going smile, “Yes, my family has been in that part of Texas since before the alamo. Some seven or eight generations ago I think it was.” He nodded in acceptance of that jotting a few notes down. “What about you Josh?”I asked and he smiled. “No sir, my family is from a small town in Connecticut, I doubt you ever heard of Enfield.” he said with a smile. “Can’t say that I have, honestly.” I replied in kind. “Do you  have a preference on what you’re called?” I asked him, “Joshua, Josh?”. He smiled again, a genuine smile. “Josh is fine, sir.” I returned his genuine smile with one of my own, “Call me Mac, Josh, save the sir stuff for the suits.”, he nodded and smiled again. “Thanks Mac, I appreciate that and again I apologize for Maurice.”. I forestall with any apologies, “Never apologize for the actions of another man, Josh.


He took that in and nodded his head as if in acceptance of what I said, “That’s fair and may be the best advice I’ve ever heard.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “What exactly is a glitter death match?”. I shook my head in disgust, “What a terrible first question to ask in an interview.”, no longer able to contain himself he begins to laugh. I wink at him and chuckle, “Don't even get me started on that match”. “Next question.” I said with a smile. “Thank you for humoring me and playing along.”, he said. We both take a sip of coffee and he starts the question kinda easy. “Your match with Mark Cross, that was an amazing match. Have you had enough time to really digest the enormity of what you’ve accomplished?” I smiled, “Not bad Josh, not bad at all.” I flag down a waitress and she brings me an ashtray. “You smoke?”, he nods and digs out his own pack and we each light a cigarette. “Yes, going into that match, I was a serious underdog. Rightfully so, Mark is an incredible athlete and someone that many considered unbeatable. For me, anyway. He had beaten me twice in tag team matches and had all the momentum in the world.”


I smiled remembering the match itself.


“I’m just one of those people though, the bigger the prize, the harder I come for my opponent. Title versus title...doesn’t get much bigger than that.” I said finally. He nodded along as I told the story, jotting down notes. Another sip of coffee and another drag from my smoke. “What is the toughest part of being a top champion?” he asked in earnest. Taking one last drag from my smoke, I crush it out in the ashtray. “This.” I said flatly and without much emotion. “This?”, he echoed but with the note of a question. “Yeah” I said again, flatley and without emotion. “Not the interview itself.” I began to explain. “The schedule, the grind. Running to this thing or that signing. When you’re married, it makes it hard on both. While I’m conducting this interview, she’s conducting a radio interview across town.” I finally finished my cup of coffee and refilled it. Between setting the caraffee back down and grabbing the sugar, “It goes with the territory though and we both know that. We make the most of the time we do get to spin together. It’s all just part of what we do and who we are.”


Fade



What in the actual fuck, Candace! 


Glitter

Fucking 

Death Match


And yes ladies in gentlemen, she’s so very serious about this bullshit it makes me want to puke. This is not the type of match that you should be putting someone like Augustino in. He’s a nice kid but he is ill equipped in a match of this nature. Putting glitter on things involved in a deathmatch is like putting lipstick on a pig. I absolutely mauled that kid in a regular match a few weeks ago and now you want to involve weapons. Did he do something to make you angry? Is it PMS? Is it me? Are you mad because I didn’t make the announcement with you?


Fuck it.


It doesn’t matter.


Augustino, I would tell you I feel sorry for you. That would be a lie, and I refuse to be anything but honest and transparent as the SCW Champion. Fake is not something I do, I leave that to the Crystal and Hayden’s of the world. You and I have had this dance before but not on this level, certainly not on this platform. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a deathmatch before but this is not for the faint of heart. It’s certainly not for people with a weak stomach. I don’t know what your “friend” was thinking but this seems like a set up to me. Punishment for some slight, real or imagined on her part. When I say this, I don’t mean for me but for you. Just the disparity in size and experience is enough to explain exactly how this match will end. I’ll spell it out for you though. No rules, weapons everywhere you look. Everything is legal, and I do mean everything. If I considered you my peer or even my equal Augustino, I might be concerned, but I don’t, and I’m not. Matches like this are career altering things. Matches like this can shave years off of your career. So, that being said, I’m going to offer you something that I’ve never offered anyone in this industry before.


A way out of it.


When it’s time for the match to begin, all you have to do is bring a white towel with you. The referee rings the bell and you throw in the towel. I don’t dislike you Augustino, you are a game competitor and I do have some small amount of respect for you. That’s due mostly to your past as a champion. I don’t want to hurt you, young man, but if you decide not to do as I ask, I will leave you laying in a pool of your own blood. If you do as I’ve asked then you get to go back to the back unscathed. No harm, no foul. All your teeth will still be in your mouth and no injuries, no visits to the emergency room or emergency dental work. I’ll say it again for those in the back. If you don’t do as I’ve asked then I’ll hurt you Augustino. I’ll hurt you in ways that would make others fucking cringe. This is not personal, this is just who I am. Maybe one day you’ll understand that.





Connecting The Dots Part 1

Mixon INC - Port Arthur, Texas

/Scene Opens\

[Off-camera]


It was yet another necessary trip to Port Arthur, so here I sat in the office of the President and CEO of Mixon’s with Thomas Mixon. The man who had offered me roughly one hundred and thirty percent markup on what the land I own is actually worth. Instead of talking about that, he wanted to talk about ancient history. His latest was beguiling me of the tale about he and my mother’s first date when they were freshmen in highschool, my initial thought was, why in the actual fuck do you think I would care about yours and my mother’s love life. I smiled and laughed along with him in all the appropriate spots. Fortune decided to shine on me just as he was reaching the end of the tale, his phone buzzed from the front desk. “Mister Mixon, Mr. Delgado is on line two.”, he smiled and pressed the button to respond. “Tell him I’ll be just a moment, please.”, “Of course sir.” was the response. He looked at me and frowned, “I’m sorry Mac, I really do have to take this call.”. I returned the smile and nodded, “Of course, you’re very busy, I’ll see my way out.”. We shook hands and then I made my way to the office door.


Closing the door behind me I say to myself, “There is something rotten in Denmark.” as I make my way to the men’s room so I can wash his filth off my hands. I entered the bathroom and began washing my hands, mask firmly in place, because you can simply never be too careful. I’m not sure if it was the time I just wasted with a man who has literally hated my family for nearly five decades or the perfumed soap in the dispenser, but anger was rising, to the point that I could feel the vein in my forehead throb. I heard the door open and soon a man stood at the basin next to me, washing his hands. Casual conversation is never advisable but this slick looking kid that seems to wear a permanent smirk on his face, well, I guess he just couldn’t resist. “Known the old man for long?”, he asked almost too casually. I shook my head, “No, not really, you work for him?”. He shook his head, “No, I’m his youngest son, actually.”, I didn’t respond but listened to what he was saying as he continued. “Do not trust my father, Mr. Bane.” he said to me as I dried my hands. “Thanks for the warning, Mr. Mixon.”, I said as carefully as I could. He blanched at being called that. A chink in the old man’s armor or does he even care about his own flesh and blood. “He’s measuring you with every meeting, he’s trying to figure out how to hurt you most. He’s an apex predator in the most cerebral way.” He said as I made my way to the door. I looked back over at him, “you have a name, kid?” I said to him as I reached for the door handle. “Joseph” he replied as he reached for paper towels from the dispenser. “Thank you for the warning Joseph, you can call me Mac.” I finished as I pulled the door open and left him standing there with a slight smile on his face. 


As I walked towards the elevator, I pulled out my phone and did a quick search for Joseph Mixon. It came up blank. he’s either a liar or he has no digital footprint at all. I thought to myself, grunting, I pressed the down button for the elevator. 


Fade


Now then, having laid out your way out of this mess Augustino. Let me tell you what happens if you should beat me. If for some reason that God should smile his light down upon you. If, the unthinkable should happen.


That’s a big fucking “IF” by the way.


If you do, then my next title defense will be against you. After I’m done trashing Alex Jones that is. For you though, I can’t just trash you and call it good now can I? Well, I could but I won’t. You do have some qualities about you that make this match….what’s the word I’m looking for here? Not Intriguing...no...that’s not the right word. Interesting?...no that’s not right either…..


Entertaining!


Yes, that's it. 


Entertaining, indeed.


A former champion in his own right ladies and gentlemen. A former Roulette and Internet Champion. A five time motorcycle champion. A man of many talents and despite what I’ve said recently, I do have respect for the man. The transition from motor sports to wrestling alone. That is worthy of respect. He is in every match that he is booked for, never taking shortcuts in order to win matches and always competitive. Augustino is well liked in the locker room and loved by our fans. What is there not to like about this fella? He is literally a poster child for what a professional should be. Now the last time we faced off, he tried to make light of my status as a cowboy. The reason for the beating he received was about respect. I’ve said throughout my entire career that the words spoken to me have consequences. You got a good dose of that the last time we were in the ring together. That doesn’t mean I don’t like you. That means I want you to understand. You obviously didn’t have a clear understanding of exactly what and who you were stepping into the ring against. I hope that you have a much more clear idea now. If you don’t then the beating you received last time will be nothing compared to what you will experience in a deathmatch with me.


My offer still stands, you can either throw in the towel.


Or.


Become just another statistic on my way to my first title defense.

You’re really not big enough for this ride, kid.

“The climb speaks to our character, but the view, I think, to our souls.” – Lori Lansens

The Mountain Part 2

Dance, Cowboy, Dance.
Somewhere at Sea, Sun Princess Cruise
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

I stood in the center of a number of people making small talk or talking about wrestling or life in general. I had my black stetson on and as new ladies entered the conversation I would tip my hat to them to acknowledge them. Freshly starched brushpopper shirt and wranglers to go with my simple black cowboy boots. My dancehall boots if you will. A question came from a lady in the front of the group, with her daughter standing beside her. I could tell that this teenager was on the autism spectrum by the way she reacted to voices. Too much conversation at one time would aggravate an austistic child. With so many of them in attendance I had to quieten the crowd a time or two. Much to the relief of their moms and dads. Overstimulation could lead to sensory overload for these kids and make it a frightening experience for them. I was hoping to avoid that at all costs.

“Mr. Bane, if I may ask, why do you do these things?”, came a question from one of the mothers in attendance. I’ve never been one to avoid questions or balk at difficult questions. I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed the sun to bathe my face and inhaled deeply the salty air. I smiled at the mother of a young woman who was there to learn. “Well, that’s a question I’ve never heard before to be honest.” I said as I looked around at all the kids, mostly teenagers but a few adults as well. “The simple and most direct answer is that it’s because.”, I spread my hands in a way that I hoped provided inclusion for everyone.”They matter to me and to the company. Every single person matters to us. It doesn’t matter to me where you come from or what challenges you face, this is fun for me.” She returned my smile, “I’ve seen others do things for “make a wish” and that kind of thing and it just didn’t seem authentic to me.” She said as she crossed her arms defensively in front of her chest. I nodded my head. “You’re worried this is some kind of Sin City PR stunt.” I said finally. Her arms noticeably loosened but her posture straightened a bit as I continued to speak.

“Well..” she began to say and I continued in a much warmer tone. “My nephew AJ passed away a few years ago. He was on the spectrum.” I said as her eyes welled a bit. I used my thumb to clear my own. “He was very special to me and my family. He was a joy to be around, not just sometimes but all the time. I always called him my little warrior but his nickname was “boots”. “ She smiled at that, “Boots?” I nodded my head, “I gave him that nickname because that kid was as tough as old boot leather.” She smiled and then laughed. “They have to be, don't they?” she asked the rhetorical question that really deserved no answer. I nodded in agreement, “There is no doubt about that.” as the planner from the cruise touched my arm lightly. “Mr. Bane?”.

I looked up at the woman, “Yes ma’am? Oh, they must be ready to begin.” I said finally, a bit embarrassed at having allowed the time to get away from me. “It’s okay, but yes they are ready to start. They seem very excited to do this.” she stated with a smile that was genuine. With the music playing softly for now, I went over the basics with the kids and their mom and dads in attendance. I’ll say this for them, special needs children are not always graceful but their determination to do things is all the motivation I’ll ever need in this life. To say it was a long process to show them just the basics would be an understatement. They had only allotted me an hour with these kids. There was another group scheduled to arrive in a few minutes. I approached the planner and she said to me, “I’m already on it Mr. Bane, we’ve got you at least another hour.” I was impressed that I didn’t have to ask. I was expecting more of a difficult situation considering how tightly  timelines are managed on these specialty cruises. Instead I smiled and went back to work with the kids. Soon we were approaching our second hour and they were finally ready. Smiling faces and laughter was the cure for a lot of things in life it would seem.

I grabbed up a microphone and announced, “Alright ladies and gentlemen, fantastic job today learning this dance so quickly. Now then, ladies if you please. Pick the partner of your choice as a dancing partner and we’ll get the music going. I watched as they began selecting their dance partners. Many of the kids were still very shy and chose their mothers or fathers as dance partners except for one. The daughter of the young woman that I had spoken to earlier. Her name was Amber, ironic huh? The young redhead made her way directly in front of me and held out her hand.

My wife had come in to check on things at that moment, she smiled at me before saying, “Looks like I have competition?” The little girl smiled and responded to her, “Damn straight sistah.”. The look of pure determination on this little one's face was priceless, my wife laughed and then held up her hands in mock surrender, “He’s all yours sweet girl, can I have him back later though?” The younger Amber smiled, “Maybe” was all she said as my wife made her exit from the room. Over her shoulder my wife yelled, “Dance, cowboy, dance.” much to the delight of the onlookers. I took the hand of the thirteen year old Amber and we began to dance to the George Strait song they had chosen, all smiles as we moved with the music. Then disaster struck as I was sure it would. She got out of rhythm and stepped on my toes a couple of times. She became frustrated and the tears began to flow, then she stopped. She began hitting herself in the forehead with the heels of her hands like I had seen my own nephew do so many times. Instinct kicked in at that point and I grabbed her in a hug, “It’s okay sweet girl, it's okay, don’t be mad.” Between racking sobs she told me, “I am sooooo sorry, I stepped on your toes.” I knelt down in front of her and looked her in the eyes, “It’s okay, I walk on them all the time.” She looked a little struck at first and then she laughed.

I stood up to my full height and held my hand out for her. She grabbed my hand and kicked off her shoes. She stood on top of my boots, barefooted and we danced. When the music stopped she stepped down off my boots and I gave her my best deep bow, “Thank you for the dance, my lady.” I looked up to find not a dry eye in the house. It had been many years since I had a father daughter type dance, but that made my heart smile. I often leave these types of things feeling better than I did when I walked into them. The feeling of making a difference is someone’s life is special to me and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even a world title.


Fade

“A War Of Words Part 1”

Now you would think that someone who has been in this business as long as Mark has been, would know better than to poke the bear. I really expected more from you Mark, more than backhanded compliments and insulting the intelligence of anyone who watched that garbage promotional video that you put together. I hope for your sake that you put forth more effort in the ring than in what you had to say, otherwise this will be one of the shortest world title matches in the history of this company. As far as Myra is concerned and what I said, I didn’t stutter, I said what I said. She’s challenging my wife for her title. Did you expect rainbows and unicorns? That is all the time I’m going to waste on that horseshit. As far as my being afraid of a war of words with you goes. What is there for me to fear exactly? That you might embarrass me on an intellectual level?

Hardly.

What exactly is it that you might say that you think hasn’t been said to me before, son. This is not my first rodeo so to speak. I do give you credit though on some points you brought up though.

Equal Footing

People in this company seem to think that Amber and I are not on equal footing because of titles. Because as of this moment, I don’t hold a world title in Sin City that I am somehow less of a competitor than she is. That I’m less important than she is. You couldn’t be more wrong if you tried Cross. Like your assumption that you are better than me and that you’ve already won this match and will take my Internet Title without any difficulty at all. You also like to think that you can get inside my head because you’ve beaten me in mixed tag matches on two separate occasions. Making assumptions is a dangerous game to play Mark. The more you talk about how brilliant you are the more right you make O’Malley sound. He’s had you pegged as a lazy fuck for a while now hasn’t he? Brings it up every chance he gets. Doesn’t speak well to your legacy as a competitor does it? If there’s smoke, there’s fire. You’ve brought this up to me in the past, let’s talk about legacies.

Our legacy in this business does not hinge on world title reigns. That is a very shallow view, sir. No, legacies in this business hinge on much more than that. What kind of impact have you had on this industry or the community that you work and live in?  What have you done that even makes you believe you even have one? No answer is really required Mark, it’s rhetorical. Every single day, I’m giving back to the community. I put homeless veterans to work in our business. “The Oblivion Garage” is proud to put these men and women to work in order to help them get back on track and back to winning in life.

My legacy is one of giving back. People talk about it all the time but they aren’t doing it. Not unless there is a camera rolling. When I was in Baltimore, I was able to help homeless veterans get back on their feet through a foundation that a friend of mine and I established there. She started out as a homeless veteran herself, and I helped get back on her feet. She’s continued that spirit of giving. I’ve done exactly the same thing in Las Vegas with the “Maggie Cares” foundation. Leading up to our match, I’m doing activities with kids on the autism spectrum. I do these things Mark, because I give a shit about people and their struggles. When you help people who are less fortunate than yourself, it makes a difference. It is part of what I’ll leave behind when I finally retire from wrestling. I don’t do this for any selfish reason unlike many on this roster, I do these things to give back to the fans. The fans and the industry that have given me and my family so much.

I don’t come from a wealthy family, it’s one of the things that makes me so relatable to the fans. It’s one of the reasons that after I started making good money, I started giving back to them. I never turn down a request for an autograph or pass on the opportunity that this company puts before me to interact with the Sin City faithful. I’m not the reluctant type or even the type of person who balks or rebels against the requests of Sin City and their owners. You call yourself a reluctant champion. I call bullshit on that Cross, if that were the case you would have never involved yourself in the Blast From The Past tournament if the grandest prize of all wasn’t what you wanted. You’re not some rookie who didn’t know about the trappings that come with being a world champion. The only thing you said that I actually agreed with was the “capable” part. You are capable and if it wasn’t for the fact that you are trying to play games, I’d also say you were one of the best. Anyone who has any doubt about your credibility in the ring, all they have to do is look at who you beat for that title. You’ve hurt your credibility recently though and I know you hate being called out for it, so that’s exactly what I’m going to fucking do.




Survival at Sea?.
Somewhere at Sea, Sun Princess Cruise
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

The name of the seminar was “Survival At Sea” with Mac Bane, a former U.S. Navy Seabee and veteran. There were probably twenty or thirty people in attendance. I sat on the stage as they filed into the auditorium and the session began. Today I’m wearing just swimming trunks, and flip flops. I picked up the microphone they had provided.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize but the nature of this seminar has changed.” There was some initial surprise as I spotted the bosses at the back of the crowd. “They wouldn’t allow me to have real sharks for this so we’re going to do something a bit different.” A chuckle ran through the crowd. I looked up to see Christian roll his eyes at my comment, Mark chuckled and then they left the auditorium. Amber smirked at the comment and the boss's reaction to it as she sat by my side. “So, if y’all don’t mind, we’re going to come down to the floor and visit for a while.” They reacted very favorably to this announcement as we made our way down to where the rest of the crowd was sitting. I could tell that this was spiking Amber’s anxiety a bit, I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She returned the gesture and adjusted the Bombshell title on her shoulder.

“So, this seminar has turned into a session where you can ask us anything, instead.” That’s when I felt Amber tense up a bit. Another squeeze of the hand but she was clearly uncomfortable with this. The crowd reaction was a favorable one as I made the announcement. The first question came from a young man in the front row. I sat down with my legs crossed. “Go ahead.” I nodded to him. “Thanks” he said, “Why is it that you don’t do a lot of on-air stuff like some of the other wrestlers do for SCW”. I was impressed, someone who followed along and knew what some of the intricacies are to the business and how important they are. “Young man, that is a great question. I can tell you that my bosses would love it if I did more of them. The answer is really very simple. I don’t do those first and foremost, because I like to do my talking in the ring. I like for my  matches to say all that needs to be said by me or about me.” I smiled as I continued. “As you can tell, I don’t mind interacting with the fans of our company at all.” He returned the smile and sat back down. I look over at Amber to see if she wants to say anything but she declines, “I hope you will all excuse me, I’ve got another obligation I have to go to.” With that she gives me a quick kiss and she’s off like a scared rabbit.

It’s not really a well known thing but Amber is very uncomfortable in this type of environment. The way in which she grew up was tough to say the least. There were a few disappointed faces as she left the auditorium. “She’ll be back as soon as she’s able” I told them, but I think I’m ready for the next question. I smiled as I said it, and hoped the smile didn’t look too fake. If it did, well I would deal with that later. The important thing was the time spent with fans who wouldn’t ordinarily even be able to get this close to one of us. The opportunity to get to bond with these folks is what made these events special. “Next question?” I asked as I scanned the room.

“How much does it hurt when you get slammed?” came the question from a ten year old boy sitting right in front of me. I smiled as I looked into brilliant green eyes and the freckled face that went with it. “A lot,” I said simply. Then I followed that up with, “We as wrestlers are trained to minimize the impact to our bodies but it doesn’t stop it from hurting.” His eyes were fixed on me right now. “We get hurt all the time, so it’s definitely not an easy way of life. Getting to do things like this make it worth it to the vast majority of us.”. A small smattering of applause came after that statement. “Were you really in the Navy?” was his next question. These are the ones that always make me nervous, not telling what this kid has been told at school or at home about our servicemen and women so I approach them with caution. “I was, why do you ask?” His response was quick, “Cause my daddy says  you’re full of crap.” The kid's head went forward unexpectedly as his father popped him in the back of the head. “My apologies sir, I didn’t expect him to repeat that.” came the response from his father. “They will say the darndest things at times.” was my response to that. “For the record though, I was stationed in Puerto Rico, along with a few other places that I can’t talk about.” His father nodded. “Thank you for your service Mr. Bane.”. I smiled at his reaction to that and thought to myself, this guy is a dick. So, I asked him, “Did you serve?” All I got in response was a glare from the man. So I let it go.

The next question came from an older gentleman standing near the back. “Hey Mac, what do you really think about Mark Cross?” I looked up and gave him my best smile and he laughed, obviously knowing it was fake, so I gave him a straight answer. “Honestly? I don’t.” The crowd that had gathered around began to laugh. I continued, “So, in terms of the match that I have with him coming up. On a personal level, I like Mark just fine. He seems like a good sort.” The older gentlemen quipped, “But…” and then it was my turn to laugh. “Sir, have you ever been in the wrestling business?” I asked out of curiosity. He shook his head indicating he had not. “Okay, just wanted to be sure, you could be a producer with stuff like that.” in response to my statement he smiled and shot me a wink. “On a  more serious note though. Mark is a good person, he gets a little sideways sometimes but I don’t dislike him for it.”

“That’s all the time I have for today y’all, I’m looking forward to seeing you all  at the show.”

Fade

“A War Of Words Part 2”



You see, Markie Mark doesn’t like it when someone questions his credibility. He has this super inflated opinion of himself and how good he is in the ring. All you have to do is watch his promotional video that he did for his match against Goth. Any time Mark faces someone he either hasn’t faced before or hasn’t faced in a while he likes to talk about his time in the National Football League. That’s cute and all and I’m sure you are proud of the time you spent playing football but this isn’t the NFL and that experience won’t help you here. Your opponents and even the casual fan could give two shits about your abbreviated football career. That and five dollars might get you a cup of coffee at starbucks but guess what? It damn sure won’t help you defend that title.

Just like your popularity with boys and girls in the back won’t help you defend it. Something you had said a while back, and it really stuck with me. You were talking about how most of the people in the back, although they liked you they didn’t want you to be champion. Of course not! It’s their job to not want you to be champion, because they are supposed to want to be a champion themselves. They are supposed to be doing things in order to take that away from you. I don’t understand why this is such a foreign concept to you. You wanted to be the best in the world. You won the title and everything that goes with it. Holding that title does not guarantee the respect of your peers or their admiration for what you’ve accomplished. The only thing it guarantees is their jealousy and that their spite for you will become more apparent than ever before. That is not the only huge difference between us, it's simply the most glaring.

Where is the asshole that took that title away from Kris? Do you even know who you’re climbing in the ring with? You think you do but all you’ve encountered to this point is what my friends refer to as the Gentleman Wolf. It’s another of the nicknames I’ve acquired over the years. The gentleman wolf is a man who is very polite, cordial even, but if you push his buttons then the gloves come off. That is who I have always been, Mark. I was cordial, polite and respectful each time that I’ve faced you. You in return, have acted like a dbag and let’s just go with the assumption that I’m tired of your shit. Let’s do that for a moment. I’ll even explain to you why it’s important, so important that I’m willing to explain it to you.

Moments before I faced O’Malley. I told the fans that if they came here to see The Outlaw or The Cowboy, that I was sorry that was not who they were going to get on that night. The night I won my first world title, “The One Man Wrecking Crew” was born. I destroyed an entire stable that night in order to capture it. Granted, it wasn’t supposed to be a gauntlet match but the management team there was so against my becoming the champion that they stacked the deck against me. Much like then, I now find my back against the wall with the odds against me. You think you have the clear cut advantage, holding mixed tag victories over me. Something you seemed to have overlooked though. This is not a tag match, one on one I am a very different beast in that ring. I don’t have to worry about whether a partner is in trouble and I have to bail them out. I only have to worry about myself and the person standing across the ring from me. I know you are very proud of the fact that you’ve only lost a single match in almost two years. Just as I am very proud of the fact that in one on one competition I’ve lost two matches. One to Fenris and one to David Shepherd.

They are the only ones who can claim a victory over me in one on one competition in Sin City Wrestling. As good as you are Mark, I’m better for a lot of reasons. First and foremost, is hunger. I don’t need the world title to justify myself. I want that world title. There’s a difference. A drug addict needs the drug to keep them alive. I have a hunger for that title like you’ve not seen before. I actually want to be the world champion in Sin City, Mr. Reluctant Champion. I don’t shy away from obligations and responsibilities and try to tell the world that’s the reason I get better. I do the signings and any other appearances the company wants me to do and still win matches. I put in the work, and yeah at a lot of times, it’s odd hours. I still do the work though, because I’m dedicated to my craft and my career. I am that guy that never stops working to get better. No matter what the circumstances are I still grind it out to make sure I am ready each week. No excuses.

You can’t say the same though, can you? You’ve already said that you don’t do the things the company wants, so you can get better and do better. So you can operate in the background and do things your own way, that was your claim I believe. Instead let’s be real, you don’t do the things that they ask you to, because you have no love for this company and no dedication to the fans who come out and support you each week. Where I come from we call it lazy.

The Wall.
Somewhere at Sea, Princess Cruise Line
/Scene Opens\
[On-camera - captured by a fan]

Twenty feet straight up, not a difficult climb. It was a visual representation of my time in Sin City Wrestling, I thought to myself. “My life, really”, I said to no one in particular. I had tried to get Amber to come out and do this with me, even tried to make it a competition but she couldn’t not even be provoked this time. We had a good laugh at my attempt to coerce her though. She knew me very well. I just wanted her to feel comfortable in the surroundings, although I had to admit that was likely never going to happen. At least I was able to be honest with myself about that. I would always encourage her and she would always at least try. That was an admirable trait in her, once of the many. It was late but it felt good as the breeze washed over me. I had just come from the gym and that gulf breeze dried the sweat quickly. I smiled again as I rested my hand on the rock climbing wall.

“Going up again Mr. Bane?” came the question from the young man who was in charge of the rock climbing wall. I looked over at him and grinned, “Yeah, one more time for the day.” He returned my grin and commented, “How many times is that today? Fourteen or fifteen maybe?” Again I smiled, “seventeen today” I said finally. He shook his head in dismay, “I’m glad you enjoy it but why so many times?” I looked over my shoulder, “Were you ever in the military, Rafi?” He paused for a moment, “yes, I was in the army.” he said to me. “Well then, you should understand the meaning of the wall and what it represents.” I said to him in an even tone. He nodded sagely, “I do, for us it wasn’t about getting over the wall, it was about getting over yourself and your fears. Team work.”

I shot him a wink, “Yes sir, so much that.” I said as I took my first movement towards the wall. Grabbing the handhold, I began climbing up that rock wall. “Just another obstacle, just another mountain to climb.” I kept repeating that until I had reached the top of the wall. I climbed up on top and sat there looking out over the ship and the sea that lay beyond. “Only one last thing to overcome Mac.” I grinned as I said it. Then using the harness rope system I reverse repelled down the face of the rock wall, much to the chagrin of Rafi. Once I set my feet on the deck, he looked over at me as he was helping me out of the harness. “Mr. Bane, that equipment is not designed for that.” He said it in a friendly way but I knew it was meant to chastise me. “I know that Rafi, it’s a bad habit I have.” I quipped to him. He arched an eyebrow as I said it. “Doing things the wrong way?” smiling as he said it. I shot him another wink, “Nah, I do this thing….it’s called what I want.” We shared a laugh and a fist bump as I wandered off towards the elevators.

Fade.

“A War Of Words Part 3”

The mountain I’ve been climbing since I came back to Sin City is well documented. So has what Christian said about me many months ago. He made the statement that he believed I had what it took to be a future world champion. Now, thanks to Mark, everyone believes that I’ve been handed something. Forget about The Blast From The Past and reaching the finals of that tournament. Forget about the fact that I’ve won the roulette championship and the Internet championship on my first try. Forget about all my successes because if you listen to Mark long enough, he’ll tell you none of that matters. I didn’t earn my shot, it was handed to me.

Not only that but when this match was signed I was working for two companies. I know, I know...shame on me for splitting time between two companies. That of course changed very recently. My contract with Uprising expired and so I chose to make Sin City my home. That’s right, I am now one hundred percent dedicated to Sin City Wrestling. I am one hundred percent focussed on taking that world title from Mark Cross. There’s a reason I agreed to this match, even though there was a chance that I could lose. I felt like Sin City and it’s fans deserve more from their world champion. The person that is supposed to represent us all in the most positive way possible. Inside and outside of the ring. Our champion doesn’t do those things. Yes, it’s a risk, but the old saying is, “No risk, no reward” and I’m comfortable with that risk. Mr. Cross hasn’t even considered the fact that he could lose. That this old boy might destroy his ass in that ring.

You say and do things without a thought to the consequences. It’s a pattern Mark, you like patterns right? Your pattern though, it’s a pattern of destruction. Not the physical dissection of others the way I do. No, it’s more along the lines of self destruction. Whether it be personal or business relationships, you just seem to fall apart when things become too serious, or more serious than you’re comfortable with. A man at your age who is emotionally unavailable to someone who sacrificed so much for you? That’s really kind of sad my man. Your relationship with Sin City, or lack thereof. That’s even more tragic on a professional level. You balk at doing appearances for the company, even though that’s expected from a champion. Especially the world champion. Did you really tell Gemma that if you lost to me that you’d be leaving? You better start packing is my advice to you. You don’t like Vegas and you love Florida. I can understand the Florida love but you hate Vegas? Come on man, Vegas is a great city. It’s not a perfect city but there aren’t really any of those around.

Like the companies we work for in this business, you’re always going to find things you don’t like, no matter where you go. To think otherwise is not only foolish but stupid. Much like your belief that in order to be a champion, you also have to be narcissistic. That is not something I could ever subscribe to. Confidence always looks good on a champion. Humility has always served me far more than arrogance ever could. I don’t expect you to change your attitude about this though, far from it. To do that would mean that you grew, that you changed to accept an understanding that most of us have always had. That understanding would be, that you don’t have to be an asshole to win titles. Throwing money at a problem never truly solves the problem, it only masks it. It’s like taking pump inhibitors for acid reflux, it doesn’t fix the problem. It only creates a dependency on a medication.

You will eventually run into a problem that you can’t throw money at Mark. That would be me. I am your problem that you can’t pay to go away. I am that guy who’s going to take you to task. I am that man that is going to make you wish you had never agreed to this match. I am that superstar that can and will represent this company the way it should be represented. To bring relevance and prestige back to that title and this company but most of all the fans. They damn sure deserve more than you’ve given them. Their importance is something you should have learned while you were playing professional football. Another lesson that didn’t quite sink in I guess. I have said all of these things in order to drive a point home, not only to you but to every single person on this roster. I can and will be a professional at all times, if you get sideways with me this is what happens. I make you look bad and I take the thing that matters to you most away from you. I wish this was a video so you could see me extending my middle fingers of both hands in your direction. That’s what you fucking deserve.

You deserve it because you believe your own hype. That may be the most tragic thing about your ass, Cross. I don’t hate you or even dislike you but what I don’t like is this belief that you have that you are better than every other man and woman on this roster. That you are the best this company has to offer. The only way I’ll ever admit that is if you are able to beat me. The only way you walk out with both belts is if you kill me. I’m coming to take everything away, you don’t have to like it or even agree with it. Just know this...There’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I play for keeps and I always play for blood. That has always been my reaction when someone was foolish enough to think that a title was beyond my reach. I’ve been proving them wrong for over a decade, Chief. You’re not different from any of the others that came before you. Those men and women that I took world titles from. They didn’t believe I had any hope of taking their title either. They found out the hard way, that when I become hungry, no matter how special a talent you think you are, it won’t be enough to stop me. They learned that the gentleman wolf takes what he wants. I would wish you luck Mr. Cross, but that won’t be enough. Even divine intervention won’t save you from the beast that has a hunger that can no longer be sated.

“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.” ― Aldous Huxley

The return of Oblivion


The Game
Oblivion Garage
/Scene Opens\
[off-camera]
[10:00 PM]

Did you  know that for some people, the smell of oils and fluids was an aphrodisiac?  For gearheads it is, not so much for people that don’t work with their hands. For me, when I walk into this garage that is what I smell and it’s that odor that makes me happy. Maybe because it’s that, and there is a hint of cinnamon in the background. It’s that cinnamon smell that lets me know that Amber has been here recently. This garage was something that Amber and myself had built with our own hands. Sure, the building was already here, she had bought it for me and we love it here. Everyone has their escape mechanism, whether it be video games, books, television, movies or whatever you might think of. This was ours. One of the places we truly enjoy, away from wrestling and the constant grind. A break from training, even though as a couple, you couldn’t get much bigger than what we had in front of us. A pair of matches that could cement our legacy in the history of Sin City Wrestling. That in itself weighed on more as much if not more than anything right now, for me and I could tell on her as well.

I was in the office, going through invoices and various other paperwork that needed mine and Amber’s attention. I really couldn’t focus on that right now though. My mind just kept going back to the phone calls and text messages that Amber was avoiding. “Must be a real scumbag if she’s avoiding that person like this.” It did beg the question though, exactly who was this Delgado guy? The first thing that popped into my head was the East Coast Mafia but it didn't seem realistic. I knew that the life of a Carnie was tough and keeping an operation like that going was expensive. Was this guy a loan shark from back in the day? Did Grizz still owe him money? She was the only one that might be able to answer that question and she didn’t want to discuss it, so I’d leave it alone for now. I wouldn’t pursue it unless it became a problem for us as a couple or if it messed with the Garage or our careers. Then I would deal with Mr. Delgado in my own way. Of course, that could also make things worse. There were only a few situations that could be called anything close to resolved where violence was concerned. Away from a wrestling ring that is.

The other thing that invaded my thoughts tonight was that the old man, Mr. Mixon wanted to buy our property. Amber was good with it, the kids were good with it. Then why was I so hesitant about selling it to him. There was something there that just didn’t add up, I had ordered another mineral survey of my land. There hadn’t been one done since I first bought the place some twenty five years ago. That wasn’t going to arrive today though. So I had nothing but time. Time to think about it though, that also meant time for me to worry about what Thomas Mixon was up to. I mean, did it really matter? At the end of the day, him owning that land, why would I care?

A crash from one of the bays broke me out of my train of thought and I was on my feet in an instant. My hand immediately went to the small of my back where my Smith and Wesson M&P forty-five rested in it’s holster. I made my way out into the bays with my hand still on my pistol. “Whoever you are, I am armed and you are trespassing.”, I said in a loud and firm voice. A black cat ran out from under an engine stand. I followed her with my eyes and she went to a partially open door. The door was our storage for parts and other supplies like paper towels for the bathrooms. I eased my hand off of my pistol and made my way to the room where the cat had disappeared to. Turning on the lights for the storage room I looked around and didn’t see anything. I heard something though, the cries of kittens. I looked up on one of the shelves and saw the momma cat trying to hide. I exhaled a sigh of relief and looked at her, “It’s okay girl, you’re fine for now.”

I happened to spot a small dish near the shelving unit and smiled. “Either Amber or one of the boys decided you could stay.” The hum of a small electric device caught my attention now. I looked around and saw an old burlap sack trying to hide a small refrigerator. I smirked and pulled it off. Opening the fridge I found some small cartons of milk and resting on top of that was a collection of canned cat food. I shook my head in dismay at my own softness these days. “Yep, Red is rubbing off on me for sure.”, I said as I opened a can of catfood and dumped its contents into a bowl that was obviously left there for the cats. The smaller bowl that sat beside received part of the carton of milk that was in the door. I looked up and the momma cat and her kittens were huddled around the bowl eating and purring. “What’s seven more mouths to feed?” I said to myself, amused at the situation.

My mind went back to Thomas Mixon, my only memories of him were from childhood. I remembered heated shouting matches between him and my father. It had gotten so bad that our family was banned from his stores. On one occasion I remember the police being called, it was so bad in fact that both he and my father were arrested for disturbing the peace. The vibration in my front pocket notified me that I had a call coming in. I looked at the time and it was after ten. The caller i.d. said that the caller was anonymous but the number was definitely from the Port Arthur area. I let it go to voicemail, “Probably wanting me to extend the warranty on my truck or something.” I mused to myself. The vibration again, notifying me of a voicemail. I had visual voicemail so I looked at it. “I’ll be damned, it’s like I summoned him.”, I stared at the message like someone who had been struck dumb all of a sudden.

“Mr. Bane,
This is Thomas Mixon the third. I am calling you in regards to the offer made on your property, I know this cannot be an easy decision to make. If you would be so kind as to call me back tomorrow, I’d like to discuss it. Maybe I can help with some of the questions you must have.”

I clamp my mouth shut and allow my breathing to return to normal. I had no idea that my breathing had escalated to the point of nearly hyper-ventilating myself. Could the old man read my mind or something? I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “What in the actual fuck….”, I say to myself, obviously since no one else is around right now. I look back down at my phone again and sigh. “Only one way to do this and that’s in person.” I say to myself. I sent him a text message letting him know I would reach out once I was in town.

“Mr. Mixon,
I will reach out once I am in town so we can discuss this. It’ll be a couple of days from now.”

I didn’t wait for a response, I would check my phone later to see if he received the message. I went back to the office to lock up, knowing that there was no way I could focus on paperwork for the shop. I would go home, get some sleep and hopefully get some perspective tomorrow.

Fade

The Game ctd...
Bane’s Home - Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[off-camera]
[6:00 AM the next day...]

I remember waking because the morning sun crept under my eyelids, might I add it was unwelcomed. “Fine, asshole, I’m awake now.” I said to the sun. “Day star bad.”, I mumbled as I stumbled my way to the kitchen. That first sip of coffee, “God damn, that kisses the soul” I said in my half asleep state. I sat down on the couch, sitting my cup on the side table. I looked down at the scrap book that had belonged to my mother. I had always thought it a cheesy thing to do with old photos and letters. Perhaps there were some clues in there I thought to myself. “Well, let’s take a look. Worst case scenario is that I find nothing at all.” I said flatly, I honestly didn’t believe there was anything in there to find. I untied the ribbon and opened the binder up. I heard metal on wood as a small object clattered across the coffee table. I picked it up and it looked like a promise ring. I hadn’t seen one of those in a long time.

Investigating the front of the binder, I found a hidden panel of sorts. It was a pocket really, made from paper. Inside that pocket was a letter.

“My Dearest Emily” I began to read, Emily was my mother’s name.

“I hope you will accept this token of my affection and a promise for better things in the future. I wish I could be there to give this to you myself but family business continues to drag me to New York. The boring part of the family business, the board meetings on top of investor meetings. I love you more than anything in this world.

Love Always,
Tom”

I felt my jaw sag open, and shook my head to try and clear the cobwebs. I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the letter but when I realized someone else was there, I looked up to see my daughter Julie. “Compelling stuff, huh?” she quipped at me as she sat on the arm of the couch. I nodded my head and put both the ring and the letter back in the place they fell from. “It seems I’ve learned something new about my own mother today.” I said back to her. Julez smiled that smile that let me know that she already knew about this. It dawned on me that this was likely the reason she had spent so much time going through these old scrapbooks. I had to ask, “Did you find anything else out from these?” I said pointing at the book in front of me. She smiled and shook her head indicating that she had not. “No, the rest of what I know came directly from grams.” She said after only a short pause.

“So, why did you never tell me about any of this?”, I asked her bluntly. She smiled again and then said, “Because grams asked me not to, not as long as her and grandpa were still alive.” I nodded my understanding, “Probably better that way. I need you to move Julez, you’re in the way of me and my coffee.”, I said with a smile. She got the hint immediately and moved to the other side of the couch. She crawled up in the corner and sat cross legged so she could face me as she talked. “She and I would talk about her school days as she liked to call them for literally hours.” She started saying. I motioned for her to go on. “She told me that she had been in love with Tommy, as she liked to call him, since elementary school. He had been her steady boyfriend from fourth grade all the way through high school.”

She didn’t pause but went on into the retelling of my mother’s story. “She was nineteen when she met grandpa, he was smitten with her from the first time they met. Soon he was showering her with gifts, trying to win her affection. The problem was she was promised to Tom Mixon and rebuffed all of grandpa’s advances.”, she pauses there, to breath and focus on her recollection of the story. “On one of the many trips that Tom made to New York that summer, grandpa would come calling and they did eventually go out on a date of sorts. She would later tell me that it wasn’t really supposed to be a date but a night out amongst friends.”

She hesitates, swallows hard but continues. “On that night out with friends, she uh...she doesn’t remember all of it she told me. She had woken up naked in grandpa's car, barely covered with one of his jackets.” She pauses there as she sees my face darken. “She swore that he hadn’t done anything, I see you’re thinking what I was the first time she told me this story. She doesn’t believe that he would drug her. He told her that nothing happened between them. That he simply grabbed her off a table top and covered her up when she started stripping out of her clothes.” She could tell by my reaction and the look on my face that I didn’t believe a word of it. “That son of a bitch.”, I said flatly. She nodded, “He let it be known that they were a thing after that, it ruined her reputation and the Mixon’s forbade Tom from seeing her anymore.” She said finally.

I felt the sigh escape my lips, “No wonder he harbors so much hatred for this family.”, I said quietly. She nodded and hugged my neck. “It’s not the only reason, but yes, that’s where it started.”

Fade

Perspective
Bane Home
/Scene Opens\
[on-camera]
[7:00 AM]

The air in vegas had a weight to it this morning, if I was in Texas this feeling would be normal, it’s called humidity. For Vegas though, it wasn’t humid at all. The weight was likely imagined as I got ready for one of the biggest matches of my career to this point in Sin City Wrestling. The camera was already recording as I made my way out onto the decking. The boards creaked in complaint as I stepped across them. I looked around the backyard of our home and smiled.

When you build something with your own two hands, that’s a matter of pride and accomplishment. When Amber and I moved into this house, there was nothing back here. The deck, and everything else, we built with our own hands. I’ve taken such pride watching her as the Bombshell Champion in Sin City. It’s almost as if that division was built around her to compliment her skills. She has been a dominant champion to say the least. She has put that division and you could even argue that she’s put this company on her back and carried the load as only she can.

I smirk, knowing that not everyone would agree with that statement and it would likely piss off some of the boys around here. The simple and quick answer is I don’t care.

Truth, like a lot of things in this life is painful. There’s not a man on this roster that wants to hear about the women carrying this company. That, however, is the truth whether anyone likes it or not. Does it hurt their fragile egos? I don’t know, you’d have to ask them. Over the years since I’ve known Myra, I’ve seen a great many things from her. It’s the things that she says that resonates with me the most. She clings to the past and wears it like a badge of honor. The slights she suffered in other places, real or imagined are not important. See, perspective is a person's reality. In her mind, she suffered because of another group of people. She never achieved that goal of being a world champion there because of them. That is her perspective, so therefore it’s her reality. When you’re talking about perspective, that’s all that matters. It’s what she believes to be true, whether it’s factual or not is another story altogether.

I shake my head at the memory of her spouting off about a glass ceiling in another company, instead of owning her own shortcomings and flaws.

All that being said, she was a good tag partner during The Blast From The Past tournament. We functioned well as a team, but we are not a team in this match. This match is to determine which match will be the main event. Whether it’s the men’s or the women's world title match that will be showcased. Which division will deserve the most attention from the company and the fanbase. Look at Myra, she’s done things that no one expected. Look at her track record. She’s held the Internet Title longer than any other title holder in the company. She has shattered the old record for days and defenses of the internet title. She’s one of the few women in this company that holds a pinfall victory over my wife. So don’t mistake my words Myra, I do respect your ability. I just don’t like your chances.

I smile ever so slightly at the camera as I continue.

You know what this match won’t be about? Which match will draw the most money. Which conflict will be more compelling. Myra chasing a world championship in a winner take all scenario, or yours truly doing the same thing. Due to the way this was set up, those are things that simply won’t matter. They matter to us individually, but that’s a close up personal view of the title situations in this company. The thousand foot view though, the blast from the past drama will certainly help draw people in. That is as important as any of the rest of it, as far as the owners and the investors are concerned. I should say, from a business perspective. There’s that word again….Perspective.

I wink at the camera and continue.

Perspective and how to each person, that is their truth. I would say that a person's truth can be somewhat jaded or shaded in one direction or another. Take the members of the Wolf’s Lair for example. They recently put Sin City on notice that they were taking over. While I’m certain that they intended that for the most positive way possible. I’d say that their truth and the rest of ours may differ a bit.

I smile a sad smile and nod at the camera remembering my own thoughts on disastrous runs with world championships elsewhere.

Alex Jones is not the only one who has had disastrous world title runs. I mean, because it didn’t happen here I’m sure he doesn’t see it as relevant. My first run as a world champion was pretty bad. Way back in time, there was a company called UCWA that was run by someone who at the time I considered a friend. I won that title from someone who I admired and respected a great deal. That title went to my head and inflated my ego in such a way that I alienated a number of people who were near and dear to me personally. So, I get it, we all have these things in our past. If you let it affect your present, that’s a different story altogether. If you do, it fucks with your future as well.

Spreading my hands to emphasize that it is all encompassing. I then bring them back in front of me and clasping my hands together, I look back up at the camera.

This final show before the big cruise though. This is my focus. My wife and I have fought each other more times than we’ve tagged together. Make no mistake about this, we are as cohesive a team as you will ever face. Mark, I know you are a very accomplished talent in your own right. You are the Sin City Champion. The man who represents the Men’s roster, to the chagrin of some and the amusement of others. You’ve accomplished many great things in your time with the company. This match however, will be quite different. This is not Blast from the Past where you can get by with a so-so partner and come out on top. This match will decide which match is the main event for the super card. This match will determine momentum, and which side will be considered underdogs going into it.

I shake my head in disagreement and frown at the camera.

Son, let me tell you something. Those days are over.

Fade

“One man told me, ‘My tooth is hurting’. Why would ‘your’ tooth hurt you? This is considered a contradicting statement. What is yours, it will never give you pain and what is not yours will always give you pain. If you expound on this, you will have the solution!”
― Dada Bhagwan



Setting the Bar
In-Studio - Bane Home
/Scene Opens\

I should be on top of the world right now, I stand here holding the number two belt in this company. The problem is, there’s a nagging sensation in the back of my mind though that I didn’t get the best that O’Malley had to offer. I just didn’t feel like his heart was in it. That’s why this title has a less than satisfactory feel to it. I stand there staring at the light, knowing that the camera is rolling. I hold the title belt up waist high and look at it.

I should feel something more after winning this from O’Malley. He was a proud champion and a worthy one. See, I don’t give a rat's ass about what anyone thinks of that man. He was a fighter and that’s something to be proud of. He’s taking some time off right now and I hope it helps him, he needs to come back stronger and more focussed than before. This guy wants that for you, come back when you’re ready and we will have a little rematch. Whether I have the title or not, I want every fucking thing you’ve got. That’s my challenge for you.

I shift the title belt and draping it over my shoulder I continue. One of the problems with this title recently has been the difficulty in defending it. It added more weight to the expectation that people had of me. That being said, the weight of the belt seems heavier than it should but I continue with the promotional.

I’ve set challenges for myself as well. What I told the Sin City faithful holds true. I’m defending this against anyone who has the balls to step up and put themselves in harm's way. It doesn’t matter to me whether someone thinks they deserve a shot or not, the only thing that I ask in return is that you bring everything you’ve got to the ring with you. That you leave it all in the ring. No excuses, no retreat, no surrender.

I slap the belt a couple of times with my free hand, the sound of flesh on metal dissipates in the studio as the sound absorbing materials diffuse it.

This starts with you Miles. Though you didn’t sign up for this match, it was gifted to you. Regardless, you are the next man up for a shot at owning this title. I watched your Roulette match. You are a game competitor and have so much heart. It really is to be admired.

I smile and look at the title belt, then back at the camera.

You’re a good man Milo, and I meant what I said. I think you’re undervalued. Why would a man of talent and potential be satisfied with a Roulette Title match? Especially not against your mentor. I’ve been at this for a long time, Miles. I do my research, I know from watching you from afar that you seem to go back and forth between confident and humble. You never seem to go full out arrogant though.

I allow the smile to slide away, replaced by a more serious expression.

The real question is why? Alicia believes in you, Alex also believes in you, otherwise you wouldn’t be a part of his group. It surprised me when I realized that you aren’t an arrogant prick though, considering who you run with. I know you are glad for inclusion in Wolfslair, because for whatever reason that is important to you. Maybe it’s because they seem to you to be an elite faction. Maybe they are and maybe they’re not. I’m sure to you and many people in Sin City, they are. We’ve all had a veteran we idolized. So I get it, you look up to AJ. You appreciate what he’s taught you and the opportunities associated with the group you belong to. Just remember this, they’ll teach you all you know. Not all they know. However, your inclusion in the Wolfslair, It’s a kind of validation in a sense.

I take the belt off my shoulder and hold it chest high.

This however is all I need for my own personal validation.

I look up from the Internet Title and back at the camera and I smile.

It’s the thing that puts me that much closer to my ultimate goal. A goal that was within my grasp but I failed to achieve. I could dwell on losing in the finals of Blast from the Past but that’s pointless and gains me nothing. These failures though, aren't setbacks, they are opportunities to learn. Even with as much in-ring experience as I have, I learn something new every day. Today I want to learn exactly who Milo is, I want you to show me. Leave it all in the ring, kid, bring the fight to me that I know you have inside you. How you fare against me will be the measuring stick, the bar if you will. I set the bar very high in Sin City, all you have to do is look at my win and loss record. I’ve won eleven matches and lost three. Only one of those losses was in one on one matches. I’ve no shame in losing to a man like Fenris.

Fade

Back to the Grind
Unnamed Gym - Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[off-camera]

A while back I had started a regiment to build my speed back up and continue on my journey to drop a few pounds. That had really paid dividends when I had faced O’Malley for the Internet title match at Into The Void X. In the last year I had gone from three hundred pounds down to two hundred and eighty pounds. My old trainer was still in Dallas, and I didn’t have the time to fly back just for that. I’d take what she had me doing and add to it. I had spoken to Lindsey earlier that day and she loved my ideas. We had started with sprints, running as fast as I could for as long as I could, then resting, recovering and doing it again.

A couple of hours earlier

I was on a zoom call with my trainer, Lindsey, discussing how I could add to what I was already doing in order to build on the speed training I was doing.
“So, Lindsey, when we first started this...has it really been a year?”, I asked with an amused tone. She smiled, “it has been. You’ve done really well, and from the looks of it, it’s really paid off.”. I return her smile, “It has indeed, thank you for taking the time to work with me. When we first started it was all about tempo training. Over time we added intervals, mostly because of my age and we were trying to cut down on the risk of injury. I wanted to get your opinion on getting back in the gym and working on my core strength again.”

Without any hesitation she responds to me, “Of course! Legs and core will help you to increase your speed more than what you have. What were you thinking in terms of specific exercises?” She asked, obviously intrigued. “Deadlift, Hang Clean and use a sled.”, I responded. She nodded enthusiastically with my proposed add ons. She tapped her lip as she thought and then looked at me with that lightbulb moment on her face. “Box Squats will also help. It really builds leg strength pretty quickly.”.

back to present

Now a box squat is an interesting exercise. What you do is, get a box that’s about knee high so you can sit down on it without your thighs moving beyond being parallel with the ground. Squat down on the box so your glutes rest on it for one to two seconds, then stand back up by driving through your heels and hips. For this session, I started without the weights or a barbell. Within minutes I could feel the burn in my legs. That boys and girls is how you know it’s working.

“Damn Pops, you are seriously tearing it up!”, I heard from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see my oldest son, Jimmy. I smile as he approaches and I take him with a big sweaty hug. “Gross, Pops!”. I chuckle, “You never get too old to get a hug from your Dad.” He smirks at me, “No, I mean you’re sweaty gross.” and we both laugh a little. “What brings you to Vegas, kiddo.”, I ask him. He scratches the stubble on his chin, “Well, I’ve decided I’m relocating to Seattle for that new gig.”. I nodded my head in agreement, it would be good for him and teaming with his adoptive sister Zeph would  help as well. “Good”, I said in a matter of fact tone. “I think you’ll enjoy the Pacific NorthWest, Washington is a beautiful state.” He smiles at the statement, “Oh, and I brought you a surprise”, he says as Lindsey walks into the room. “I’ll be damned”, honestly shocked that she is here.

I give Lindsey a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “What in the world are you doin in Vegas?”, I asked her. “Well, I’m going to Seattle too, actually.” I smile as my son reaches out instinctively to hold her hand. “Good, I’ll worry about this knucklehead a little less if I know you’re there to make sure he walks the straight and narrow.”. She laughs a silvery laugh, much like Amber does when I’m a little too charming as she calls it. “I see you are really making strides with speed training.”, she says to me in the form of a question really. I nod, “I hope so, most of the people I’m in the ring are a lot younger than me. The kid this week will be a challenge.”. She nods her head sagely, “Miles Kasey, right?” “Yeah, good kid from what I’ve seen and a tough competitor.”, I responded to her with all honesty.

“There are a lot of younger competitors these days, all out to make a name for themselves and for some, like Milo, trying to win that first title.” I pause, having said that and realized it must have made me sound like a bitter old guy. Jimmy studies me for a moment, “And what do we tell fate?”, he says with a smirk and wink. I return the sarcasm, “Not today, asshole, not today.”

Fade.

Setting the Bar Part 2
In-Studio, Bane House, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[on-camera]

I think about what I had said previously, I’d been fortunate with so few losses. I loved the fact that I was winning and that I was impressing the right people. Setting the bar was accurate in my mind, I felt like that’s what I was doing and I would continue to do exactly that.

This will be your third title opportunity this year. There’s no shame in losing to someone like Alex Jones, not at all. I’ve known Alex for a long time and have always thought highly of him. I’m not Alex though. Our styles are not even remotely similar. Facing me is a different kind of fight. I’ve been around the business for longer than a cup of coffee. I’ve held titles before and what they tell you is very true. It’s far easier to unseat a champion than it is to defend a title.

Still holding the title in front of me.

You see, the first time I was here, I had lost exactly one match. A mixed tag team match against Ryans and Mikah. Not that you could actually call that a match. It was more of a cluster fuck. Anyway….I was well on my way to my first title opportunity. I was undefeated in singles matches and had absolutely dominated the Roulette division. I went on to win that title, but had to leave due to a family emergency. Fortunately for me, the guys who run Sin City didn’t hold that against me. I know how that looked, me leaving right after winning a title.

I take the Internet Title and put it back on my shoulder.

That leads me to where we are today. You’re still looking for that first title win. I’m defending this title for the first time. That presents a problem, for you, not for me.

My gaze as I look into the camera hardens, all pretense of being friendly is now gone.

Milo, you are one hell of a talent. I have much respect for your ability and the heart you show in the ring. I find myself forced to put that aside though. In order to bring back the prestige that this title should have, that means I will fight with everything I’ve got to make sure that this title doesn’t get passed around like a Walmart toy at a three year olds birthday party anymore.

My expression doesn’t change, I reach up with my free hand and pat the belt, to the average viewer it may even seem like it’s an affectionate pat.

We have many differences, you and I, I won’t even start on the size difference. That’s obvious and hardly worth my time or that of the fans to talk about. The biggest difference between us is that I earned my shot at this title. You were given a shot by Alicia. That being said, I’m going to treat you like I would anyone who tresspasses or threatens what is mine. I’m not going to talk about fair or not fair, that’s not really it at all. It’s about respect for this industry and self respect.

You were just so overjoyed when this match was announced. You weren’t expecting this, I think it’s mostly because you know you don’t deserve it. What have you done? Who have you beaten to make you relevant enough for a shot at the number two belt in this company? If you are able to beat me, you get automatic credibility as a competitor here. You gain relevance as well as this title. A title that ranks higher than the one that Alex Jones currently holds. That’s quite the carrot to be dangling in front of a young up and coming star, right?

What if I told you it was a trap, not a thirst trap, a very large trap that would leave you marked for years to come. I don’t say these things to be funny or to try and sound cool. I’m being very real with you, so you will know who you are stepping in the ring with. Make no mistakes about it Milo, I’m going to hurt you in ways you haven’t even thought of yet. If I were just a brawler, you might have an advantage. You might still, if you can figure it out. I don’t think you’re stupid so don’t get it twisted. I do think you’ve been led to believe that you are more than you really are. Do you even know who you are as a competitor? Have you finally figured out how to get out of your own way?

Fade

Family
The Bane Home, Las Vegas NV
/Scene Opens\
[off-camera]

If you ask most Texans what means the most to them in life, they’ll tell you it’s family first and foremost. It wasn’t very often these days that I could get all of mine under one roof at the same time. Julie was attending pre-law classes on the east coast, Jimmy was about to go to Washington for a new company that was just getting started. This particular company also had a couple of friends of mine, so he would know a few people going into it. Aeric was not really looking at new places to go work, he was happy with whatever life pushed his direction. I think the kids being here helped a little with taking the edge off of Amber. Recently in Reno, we were working for another company and held the tag team titles. We defended them and that did not go according to plan. We lost those titles and it ate at her because she took the pinfall in that match. All thanks to a loaded entrance prop. I almost felt sorry for Alicia and Miles respectively, almost.

Amber was still at “Oblivion Garage”, so it gave me some time with the kids. Supper was already in the oven and would be done in the next fifteen minutes or so. Julez had said she wanted to stay with us for a while, since she wasn’t going back to college until the fall. The place in Texas was being cared for by my foreman Jimbo Rodgers, funny how my old friend resembled that other guy with the same last name that plays football. I had also gotten an offer on that land but hadn’t talked to Amber about it yet. Aeric was the first to pipe up about that, “Did old man, Mixon call you?”, he asked. I looked up and the other two were curious now. “Yes, he did.” I replied in a matter of fact tone. “He wants to buy all the land except for where the house sits plus about five acres. What he’s offering is beyond the going rate, so that makes me suspicious.”, I said to Aeric, “Do you know what he’s up to? I know you keep up on rumors and gossip around Port Arthur.”. He shook his head, “No sir, there’s some speculation about him trying to buy up a lot of places around town but it’s just that.”. I nodded at him and then addressed the three of them.

“I haven’t decided, mostly because this is the first chance I’ve had to talk to you all about it. Plus I haven’t talked to Amber about it yet either.”, I watched them very closely for reactions. None of the three of them even flinched. Julie said to me after a moment, “Daddy, it’s your land, if you want to sell it, I don’t think any of us will object.” This was followed by Jimmy, “Pop, do what you think is best.” And finally Aeric, “As long as the house and the family plot remain…”. I smiled as each of them spoke and finally responded to them. “It’s our land, as a family it belongs to all of us. I’m glad you are all being open about it, and I’ll let you know what’s decided.”

The timer of the oven went off at that moment, I started to get up but Julie beats me and heads toward the kitchen. The aroma that was coming from that direction was fantastic, I could hear Julez in the kitchen pulling the fish out of the oven.

“God, I love Mahi”, I say to no one in particular. Jimmy smiled and said, “Well, I’m sure that it’s not Gaido’s but it will be spectacular.”. I responded with, “Well, can’t have Nick being all worried, can we?”.

Fade.

Setting the Bar Part 3
In-Studio, Bane House, Las Vegas, NV
/Scene Opens\
[on-camera]

We are now approaching the end of this promotional video and I turn and stare out the window. I’m conflicted, because I know Milo is a good person, the real problem is that I am not a good person. I take this industry and this promotion very seriously, what Alicia had done, had rubbed me the wrong way.

I sincerely hope you have Miles, I hope you have it all figured out. I hope you have a strategy in mind for this match. I know I do, and I’ll even tell you what that is. With your high risk style, it’s obvious that you’ll try to use your speed to gain an advantage. It’ll work great too, until you make a mistake. Then I’ll knock you on your ass and your real education will begin. Remember what I was saying earlier about being more than a brawler?

I tilt my head first to the left, the vertebrae pop, then to the right with the same outcome.

I remember you talking so highly of being at the wolf’s lair gym and the titles that adorn their walls.

I point out the window to the inner hallway, where my titles are lined up.

The world titles, the hardcore titles, the television titles and tag team titles. For those of us who have been around for a while, we have these, it doesn’t make us better than anyone else, kid. What it does make us is opportunist. We were in the right place at the right time, because we busted our asses. We weren’t given anything, we fucking earned it.

I shake my head and try to quieten the anger but it just won’t relent.

To be completely fair about this, I’m not mad at you Milo, the situation is the real problem. I’ve never been a fan of these types of rewards for winning a match. Yeah, she’s Queen for a day and gave you this title shot. I can understand her giving herself a title shot. She’s been around for a long time and many would say that she’s earned that right. All you’ll end up earning is a beating.

This is not just a title defense for me, this is about setting the bar. This is about making a statement. This is about making this title mean something again!

Fade

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.

The Affairs of Dragons

"He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you."— Friedrich Nietzsche

Preamble Part 4 - Blast From the Past
In-Studio
/Scene Opens\

The shot opens up to a close up of only my eyes, rimmed red, not from tears but from lack of sleep and anger. One thing that pisses me off more than just about anything is when someone interferes in my match. That’s where I begin with the last part of my preamble series.

Integrity; Your women’s bombshell champion has none. You interfered in a match that might have had long reaching consequences for you. Now, it just has consequences. I hope God has mercy on your soul because the woman that’s coming for you has none. She’ll stop at nothing until you have been destroyed. I’m getting the popcorn ready for that one, you’ve no chance of surviving this let alone retaining your title. I hope she rips your heart out of your chest and eats in front of your child. That’s exactly what I’d fucking do!

The camera pans out, I pass in and out of the camera's angle as I pace like a caged animal. The match against Amber and Despy, still eating at me.

Maybe worst of all, you did this just to spite Amber. So, in turn you hurt one of the few good people in Sin City. Amber and I never try to pretend to be good people, we are who we fucking are. Despy and to a lesser extent Synn, deserved better than that. They deserved an opportunity to work their way into the finals. You took that from them. More importantly you made Myra and I look like this was planned. Even Synn, not quite accusing Myra but as close as you can get without saying the words. The respect you earned as a champion, how little or how much is debatable. Any credibility you might have had is gone. Was the spite worth it? Only you can answer that one, more importantly though. Was what’s coming for you and this company worth it?

I feel my anger rising as I continue to speak, and the pacing continues as I do so.

Then there's O'Malley. You should probably save running your mouth at me until after you actually win something. You have about as much ability to win that title from Jack as my dead grandmother does. And trust me, she had way more talent in the ring than you do bitch. My family and my friends don’t have to defend me, I do that very well on my own. It’s fine, you don’t know what you don’t know. I do know a few things about you though. My first time in Sin City, I was supposed to be facing you for the roulette championship. After I was declared the number one contender, you came out and ran your mouth at me. The next week, you lost the strap to Kedron Ross. You’ve got a history, too bad it’s a history of failure.

I feel the heat in my face as my blood pressure rises, I continue on regardless of the way it looks.

All of this culminates in something that this company is not ready for. It’s not a threat, it’s simply the way it is. Mark I suggest you go into that mode where you become a selfish prick. You’re going to need that just to survive what’s coming next!

I walk up to the camera and poke the center of the lens.

This is your wakeup call SCW, I won’t be what anyone expects going forward. Even my standing here now warning you….it won’t prepare you for what I’ll do to claim what’s mine.

Fade

Colors
Las Vegas, NV - Bane’s home
/Scene Opens\

The sun has dawned on a new day in the Bane household. There was a void in my soul right now, knowing that Amber had gone dark on social media. She had left the house, she hadn’t left me but that feeling of emptiness was still there.

“I just… There’s just things I need to come to terms with.” She had said to me as she was leaving. That had been almost nine hours ago. It would have probably of helped had she responded to messages but I know she felt like this was something she had to do. Her opponent had made this very, very personal. So this left me to my own devices, that’s never a good thing. I usually get myself into trouble under these conditions. I hadn’t even gone outside of these walls since she left. What I did do though is go up into the attic to dig out old photo albums. I sat here looking at very old pictures of my mom and dad. It dawned on me then, how much of an influence he had on me from a very early age.

Not the same pops, but similar enough.

I look at the picture again and chuckle. Back in the day, my old man was one hell of a fighter. He wore a beige colored cowboy hat to the ring, black vest, trunks and boots. He once told me his claim to fame was being the most hated man in Texas Wrestling. His laughter was genuine and without remorse. Most of the time when I had talked to him about wrestling it was like picking the brain of the mad scientist after they had already won. Inside the wrestling ring my father was a vile human being, outside of it he was tough but fair. For comparison, the character that Sam Elliot plays on the ranch would be close.

Too bad you were such a stupendous prick, pops. You would have liked Amber. Mom would love her.

Funny thing about reflection, it’s rarely therapeutic, sometimes cathartic but rarely does the person any good. They will eventually sit there and wallow in their own self pity. That wasn’t really what I was doing right now. I had suspected that my dad had been up to no good. I wasn’t entirely buying what the agent had told me about it all being a lie. I turned the page of the album and there it was. It had stared me in the face countless times over the years. A picture of my dad wearing a black vest. The patch had not evolved in all this time.

I’ll be goddamned….you really were a fixer for them, weren’t you old man.

Sometimes, knowing the truth and knowing what to do with it are two entirely different things. I mean, knowing this to be true, I could go on this long trip to try and redeem a name that no one remembers. I could try to help local law enforcement to put them away and try to cause the club to dissolve. There was another option as well.

I could do what I want and take what I want. Consequences be damned.

It wasn’t just me that would be affected though, that was the hard part. Amber, my kids, they all had to be taken into consideration. Best case scenario was that I would be living a double life. Worst case was I get arrested for doing some stupid shit and Amber kills me. We didn’t have money troubles, far from it, we were  more than flush. We could retire from wrestling tomorrow and never have to work again. Not in the garage or anyplace else for that matter.

Then why consider doing this at all Bane?

I say to myself in a way that would not elicit a response from me, it was strictly rhetorical anyway. Maybe it was the words of the dbag O’Malley that still rang in my ears. “Even if he does win, he won’t do shite.” Granted, he doesn’t know me, but he liked to talk like he does. Regardless of the shit talking, a part of what he had said rang true to me. They had no reason to believe in anything that I said. The wrestling world had forgotten who I was and what I was more than capable of.

Is that strap worth it?.

I close the photo album, setting it aside on the couch beside me. I look towards the closet that hasn’t been opened since I stored some old stuff in there. I stand up and make my way to the closet door. I look inside and find my old case. Picking it up, I smile at the weight of it in my hands. Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. I look down and see a shadow box from my early days in the business.

From my first hall induction.

I smile looking down at the old photo of me after winning my first world title. Remembering who I was then, made me smile even more broadly. Not a friendly smile. Have you ever noticed that when a great white shark swims through the water on those documentaries, he always seems to be smiling? That’s what I feel right now, the feral ferocity of an apex predator. I turn my back on that image and cover the distance between the closet and the couch and set the case down on the couch. I open the case and inside are my old tools of destruction. Twin louisville slugger baseball bats, and my old fifteen pound sledgehammer.

Hello old friend, would you like to come out and play?

I smile as I lift it up, my eyes even with the head of the sledgehammer. Even though I know the road I’m about to travel could have long reaching consequences, in my heart I also know that the end game will be worth it. I felt like Amber was likely having a similar conversation with herself right about now. If ever there were two people that were kindred spirits, it’s the two of us. There was nothing we couldn’t do, together. I had a hunch that she had gone back to Atlantic City and that’s where I would go next. She said she needed some time to think, we both knew that was crap. I would go to the AC and see if I couldn’t help her get through this. She might rebuff me for trying but then again….

The risk is alway worth the reward.

Fade.

Red
Amber’s Apartment - Atlantic City, New Jersey
/Scene Opens\

Going on almost no sleep, I eased the rental into the parking lot where Amber had her apartment. The complex itself was more quiet than normal. Of course it was roughly three in the morning. I put the car in park and killed the ignition. I grunt at the effort of climbing out of a midsize car. God I hate rentals. I think to myself. At my size, it made it difficult at best to get in and out of. Making my way to the door, I reach for my keys and realize that the apartment key is gone.

She must have taken it before she left…

I sigh as I lean heavily on the railing. When I look back up again I see the key taped to the door. I shake my head and chuckle a little to myself…

She knows me so well.

I peel the key off of the door, removing the tape, I ball it up with my thumb and index finger and toss it over my shoulder. I won’t lie, my heart is heavy right now without her and I’m hoping to find her inside but I know I won’t. She’ll be long gone from here by now. I slide the key home and twisting the door comes open. I walk into the living area.

Red! You here?

One can hope right? No answer and no recent signs of her. Except for the note she left. It sat on the bar folded over in half, looking for all the world like a little pup tent.
SOMETIMES I
WONDER IF THINGS
WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT
DIFFERENTLY IF I HAD
DONE JUST ONE THING
OR SAID THOSE FEW
WORDS OR BEEN A
LITTLE LESS LIKE THIS
AND A LITTLE MORE
LIKE THAT.
SOMETIMES I WONDER

I held the note there, absorbing what it said and what it meant. My beautiful bride to be, even after all the time we’ve spent together. I know she’s happy, I see it in the way she looks at me. Even when she thinks I don’t see it. I don’t miss much, even the small glances she gives me that no one else seems to catch on to. I also know she’s terrified, body language means a lot when you know what to look for. Knowing the signs had saved my life more than once. I fold up the note and stick it in the inside pocket of my jacket. That’s when I spotted the coffee cup. I grabbed that and the contents weren’t quite cold, a tepid temperature. I confirm that by dipping my index finger into its contents.

Alright Red, I’ll be there when it all comes undone. Like I promised Jack and Rooster that I would be.

I walk into the hallway that leads to the bathroom, seeing footprints where she stepped not long ago. Amber hardly ever wore perfume but for some reason I smelled cinnamon in any room she’d been in. I could smell it very faintly now, confirming she had been here not long ago. I open the bathroom door. The towel she used, balled up and on the vanity. I cringe at this and the water in the floor where she stepped out of the tub. She knows I hate that, and that for whatever reason causes me some amusement. there are a number of things that we do to each other, just for the sake of annoying the other. I take the towel and clean up the mess she left behind. Then circling back to the laundry room I drape it across the washer. I come back to the living area and I look around the room one last time, thinking that I’ve missed something somewhere. Something that might tell me where to look next. Also knowing that when she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be found. Until the next show anyway. A smile returned to my face for the first time in days.

Now it’s time to go fuck some shit up.


Finally!
In-Studio
/Scene Opens\

Standing in front of the Sin City backdrop, my eyes burned a little less, my steps were a little lighter and I felt a ton better after a little sleep. Was it as much as I needed? No, probably not, but it would do. My anger….had not subsided one bit. There’s a fire that burns hot inside my soul, maybe even more so than when I was younger. I have a real hatred for show offs and cowards.

Ruby Steel and Mark Cross. A really good rookie and veteran combination, obviously. They face Myra and myself in the finals now. Myra was just recently inducted into another hall of fame and I’ll say it again for those sitting in the back. Congrats to Myra on an honor that is well deserved. A guy like Mark, he hates it when something like that is brought up. He’ll probably hate it more when I say that Ruby has carried his ass through this tournament. One thing people like Ruby fail to realize is that all the awards in the world don’t make you special in this business. I watched your promo from last week and you’re absolutely right, being in the business for a short time does present disadvantages that are difficult at best to overcome. Someone like my partner, Myra, will absolutely take advantage of your inexperience. It’s not meant as disrespect, it’s just a fact. Myra is a super smart competitor and although she is not likely to take the by any means necessary path, don’t think for a moment that she’s lost her intensity and desire to be great.

I give the camera a wink as I continue.

Your partner,Mr. Cross though, and yes that’s as much respect as you’re going to get from me. He makes it very clear that he will take any low road he can to get there. It’s one of the few things I like about you, Mark. You’re upfront about who you are and what your goals are. Like discrediting your competition. You made the assertion that former Roulette champions and current are the guys you beat for fun around here. That’s a direct or almost direct quote, you’ve never beaten me. We’ve never faced each other before in any kind of match. Yes, I won the same title that Cassian carries now. You may even believe that I’ve not really beaten anyone in Sin City yet. The truth is this, I’ve beaten everyone they’ve put in front of me. In one on one competition, I’m perfect. My only loss has been in a mixed tag thing. Couldn’t really call that a match, it was mostly gimmicky bullshit but it still counts against me as my only loss.

I feel my eyebrows furrow and the pinching sensation between my eyes that soon follows.

For whatever reason, you so firmly believe in your own hype that you consider yourself untouchable. That my man is a dangerous mind set to have in this business. Especially against someone who’s so well rounded. See, I’m not some rookie that just won his first title. No, that was a long time ago. You, however are one of those people that thinks your own accolades are the only ones that matter. You’ll discredit a person's entire body of work while promoting your own in an effort to make them feel less than who they are. That’s what you did with Cassian to get inside his head right? It’s a real fucking shame that shit won’t work on someone like me.

I smirk at the camera now, I know it pisses people off when I do it. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always done this.

Passion and talent are something that we talk about a great deal in this industry. Now if you listen to Mark Cross long enough, he’ll try to convince you that he’s the only one with either of those things. Not just in this match but any match he’s involved in.

I shake my head in disgust and exhale slowly but foreably.

Mark, you’re not even the most talented wrestler on your own team. Your biggest opponent in this match isn’t even me.

It’s you.

You’re one of those people who just doesn’t seem to be able to get out of your own way. For all of your money and your fame in Sin City, do people outside of the company even know your name? I know it wasn’t from your NFL career. That was pretty fucking lack luster wasn’t it? I know that as far as Sin City Wrestlings goes you’ve won the internet championship and the Roulette title. I think I also saw your name on the list for mixed tag title holder. Of course you are defending your win in this tournament from last year. Which for those who don’t know, you did absolutely dick with.

That’s right, I said it, I didn’t stutter and here, I’ll say it louder for the folks in the back…

You’re a statistic, simply one of the many who’ve had that shot and couldn’t pull it off. Maybe you don’t have the killer instinct to get it done. Or maybe you’re simply not as talented as you believe yourself to be. Regardless of the reason you’re simply a bump in the road on my way to my first world title reign in Sin City.

You don’t have to like it.

You simply have to embrace the idea that there’s nothing you can do about it.

There was that smile again, the great white was circling and there’s blood in the water. It was time for me to feed.

Fade.

“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.

“When change cometh, she will bring peace at her back. She will not bend to your will; you must bend to hers.”
― Adriana Mather, How to Hang a Witch

---

I take my customary place in front of the microphone stand, pressing the button on the remote, I wait for the light to begin flashing red and then I begin.

“Welcome to my preamble for the Roulette Championship match.” I say with a smile on my face as I spread my arms out in a welcoming gesture. “My introduction if you will, for those unaware of what a preamble is.”

I bring my arms back in, and place my hands in front of me, casually in front of my belt buckle.
“I felt it only fair to do this in order for my intentions to be made clear. So, there are no misunderstandings between myself and the so-called roulette champion. As is normally the case when I speak, I begin using my hands as I speak, slamming one hand into the other for emphasis. ”My intentions at this point should be clear. I will do everything in my power to liberate that championship from the man who doesn’t deserve it or want it. He’s made his opinions of me clear, but that’s all about to change. Not only am I going to change your opinion of who I am and what I’m about. I’m about to change your perspective on a great many things.”

 I stop with my hands, my right hand still balled in a fist and covered by my left hand. Inhaling slowly, I elect to impart a little wisdom. “It is said that the only constant in this world, especially now, is change.” I open both hands, steepling my fingers, I lean towards the camera. ”Things constantly shift and change around us. Unlike my opponent at High Stakes Ten, I’m aware that nothing is etched in stone.” Leaning back to my original position, I allow my hands to fall back by my sides. “I’m aware that there is a constant state of flux in this world in general and in this business to be more specific.” I give the camera a crooked smile, “Nothing is forever, especially not title holders.”

I cross my arms in a defensive gesture, The champions of our sport are supposed to be stewards of the company they work for. Making sure that the championships they carry are represented in a professional manner. With my arms still crossed I shake my head in disgust, “That they make the title they carry mean something, no matter where in the pecking order it falls.It’s not the championship that’s supposed to make the man. It’s the man who carries that championship that’s supposed to make it mean something more than what it is. That’s why those who manage to do that  prosper,  and those who can't….?

With arms still crossed I simply shrug my shoulders, “They simply go away, they don’t matter and they don’t put asses in seats. The reason I’ve always said...Champions come and champions go, there is but one constant...

The fight.

That’s what I represent and that’s who I am at my core.”

Uncrossing my arms, I continue. “People like you are always the same, you live in past glories, so full of yourself and so sure that none can stand against you. You talk about past wars with people as if they are relevant to our match. You know nothing of me but what you’ve seen here in Sin City, too fearful to see past your own window. A man of the world, but you show no knowledge of it. I would expect such a seasoned professional to acknowledge life outside of his own fishbowl. That would be a bit outside of your own comfort zone though wouldn’t it? Too much effort to make sure you know what you’re talking about when you start flapping your gums.”

I shrug my shoulders again, “There is only one person within Sin City that can halt the momentum I’ve started with. His name is not Kedron Williams. You keep right on talking about me like I don’t matter and I’ll show you how much I do matter. Not just to this division but to this company. I may be new to you, but I’m certainly not new to this sport or this industry.”

I allow a genuine smile to come to my face as I lean towards the camera again. “Funny thing about the way you approached me in your previous promo. You started trying to bury me with the fact that you didn’t think I’d beaten anyone. On the fact that my only match teaming with Red was a loss. It’s like when you’re fighting with someone on social media, you resort to profanity, you’ve already lost.”

The smile shifts, becoming something almost feral looking. “I’m glad, that lets me know you’re terrified of losing that belt. My time in Sin City has not been one hundred percent successful, that much is true. That cluster fuck of an event you could hardly call a mixed tag match. So, who have I beaten in singles competition? Everyone they’ve set before me, you’re really bad at this whole occult being a douchebag thing. Maybe you don’t realize it. Much like your unintended irony. Much like your being a Roulette champion, my mid-card status is a temporary thing.

I square my shoulders and set my jaw, now speaking between clenched teeth.

“More importantly though, you don’t seem to grasp the status of that championship belt to begin with. You think holding a glorified hardcore title makes you a main eventer? So, not only are you a fraud but you’re also an idiot with delusions of grandeur. This all goes back to what I was saying about the people holding these titles are supposed to be a representative of our sport. The reason there is a limited influx of talent is because you and your predecessor made the title meaningless. I saw this from afar and it’s one of the reasons I’m here. To put all champions on notice, the lack of effort has been noticed by people outside of Sin City. I’m here to make this title and all the others matter again.

I make my eagerness obvious as I begin rubbing my hands together in anticipation of the match.

“The stakes for you have never been higher, you have everything to lose and I have everything to gain. Bottom line is, it doesn’t matter what you think of me or my ability, I’ve got nearly two decades of track record to back up everything I say and do. You are simply the next in a series of stepping stones on my way to the top and the SCW Championship. So, a rhetorical question for you, oh mighty son of salem, how many matches did you wrestle here before you got your first title opportunity? I call it rhetorical because I don’t give a damn”

---

/Scene Opens\

[off-camera]

Two-Weeks Ago[/i}

As I rode away from the bar, Barlago, the words of the unnamed man echoed in my mind. My own father had been a fixer for these fucking scum bags. I’ve been a lot of things in my life but not a cheat. I’d never dream of doing such a thing. The only thing that really eased my anxiety was the rumble of the Harley. As I ate up the miles, constantly checking my surroundings as I do, I see them in the distance. They’re following me, either to make sure I don’t talk to the local PD or to continue the conversation. Maybe they’re even concerned that I’d go to one of the local clubs and pass along what I know. Their leader didn’t strike me as the type to give up with just a single casual conversation. I check my mirrors again and I see smoke, just before the shock wave causes my bike to wobble ever so slightly. I ease off the highway at a gas station.

I coast into the pump area of the station. I look at the pumps and there’s a sign that requires pre-pay. I kill the motor, setting my stand and climbing off the bike I smile.

“This should be interesting.”

Looking down I see an anomaly, it almost looks like a fleck of dirt. I study it more closely.

“I’ll be damned.”

I say to no one in particular. With my thumbnail, I’m able to dig a small almost unseen tracker. I drop it on the ground and crush it under the heel of my boot.

“Someone doesn’t like the word no.”

I mutter as I walk into the store to pre-pay for my gas. An old fashioned bell above the door dings lightly as I push the door open. The employee there, a bright eyed red headed kid. His name tag said “Dusty” and he was listening to music from the eighties. He waves and smiles as I walk into the store.

“Welcome to Fuzzy’s gas and go.”

He exclaims as I walk in. I grab a bottle of Mountain Dew from the barrel and set that up on the counter.

“Thanks Dusty, fill up on two please.”

I put a twenty dollar bill on the counter as he goes to work initializing the pump and I walk out to see the arrival of about ten men on a variety of different machines. Hayabusa's, Harley’s, an Indian and even a duck.

“Crime must pay pretty well.”

I muse to myself as I cross the parking lot to my own Harley, my Road King was built for cruising, not for speed. That’s what my Dyna Super Glide that I rarely rode these days was built for. Plus it needed a rebuild done on it to get it back up to specs. I begin filling my tank as about five police cruisers pull into the station. They form a semi-circle to prevent anyone from leaving. Ten officers in total, brandishing shotguns and side arms when they spot twenty one people on motorcycles. I stop the gas pump and step away from my bike before they even order me to. I lace my fingers behind my head as I do.

“You’ve done this before, obviously.”

One of the officers said nonchalantly. Two of them, one on either side of me began to ask me questions. As the others move into a tactical formation to approach the others, who’ve mimicked my own movements.

“No sir, I’ve never been arrested.”

I explain calmly.

“Anything I need to know about before I start searching you?”, he asks me in a slightly elevated voice. I can tell he’s nervous and likely not a seasoned cop.

“My everyday carry is in it’s holsters on my back. My license for it is in my wallet, you’ll find that in my front pocket.” I explain to him as calmly as I can.

He has my wallet, and removes my holster with my everyday carry still inside it. “Mr. Bane, if that’s your real name. You were identified by a witness as having been at an establishment called “Barlago”, roughly half an hour ago?”

“That’s right.”, I say, remaining calm as he continues to search me.

“Were you also aware that the establishment blew up, shortly after you were seen leaving it?”, he takes my right arm, swinging it behind my back to put cuffs on me. His partner stops him though.

“I’d say he is clean, rook, see his lack of colors and them wearing theirs proudly….”, as he nods towards where the rest of the bandidos are all being arrested. He releases his hold on me for a moment and the older officer smiles apologetically.

 “I’m sorry sir, the rook’s these days are maybe a little over zealous and enthusiastic.” I shake my head and laugh.

“Hell, that’s alright Officer, no harm no foul as far as I’m concerned. That bunch over there, I’d be real cautious with them.” I say to him in earnest. The look from their leader could shred steel that he gives me.

“What in the actual fuck are they doing in Vegas.” He scowls as he says. “Fucks sakes, just them being here could spark a war.”. He exhales forcefully as the rookie officer hands my everyday carry back to me. very likely what they are trying to do is what my mind screams at me., I muse inside the confines of my own brain. Putting my everyday carry back in place, I watch everything unfold as arrests are made and rights are read. Something about that whole thing just smelled rotten to me.

/Fade\

---

/Scene Opens\

[off-camera]

The thing I’ve heard over the years from other friends of mine who are married is that if you don’t work hard at your relationship it will fall apart. I’m here to tell you, that’s bullshit, if you have to work that hard at your relationships, then they are not good ones. Not good for you or the other person. Amber and I had the kind of relationship where everything was easy for us. We were a great team and nothing seemed unreachable for us as a couple. It made some of our friends sick to their stomach because of the way we are. Our friends are not shy, so we get a lot of ribbing about our relationship.

Now we find ourselves on the couch. I take her hand in mine, there is comfort there. A kind of warmth that I’ve never felt in my life. She is my peace of mind, my safe place and the reason that I work so hard on progressing my career again. We’ve just been sitting here and  talking about nothing in particular and from the entryway, I hear my daughter Jules.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! DAD! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SHE SAID YES!”

Amber and I look at each other then back at Jules. Amber cannot hide the smirk that’s starting to form. I smile and look back at my daughter.

“Hey Jules.”

She frowns at me.

“Sorry for dropping the f bomb dad.”

She says rather meekly as I stand up and cross the room to where she stands.

“Amber and I are getting married.”

She slugs me in the arm, then goes around me to where Amber is sitting.

“You’re a turd, dad.”

I nod as she goes around me to look at the ring.

“Yes ma’am, you could say that.”

The fangirl-like squee was almost eardrum shattering, as she stared at the ring. So loud that even Amber cringed.

“Fucks sake, I know you’re excited, but…”

Jules, now embarrassed, holds her hand to her mouth.

“So sorry, I forget sometimes.”

Then Amber engulfs my daughter in a hug.

“Me too Jules, me too”

She says to her softly. I step to the side table and grab a box of kleenex and carry it over to where they are sitting. Both women, openly crying now. I sit down next to Amber and grab her hand, squeezing gently. She smiles up at me and takes the box of tissue. She puts it in front of Jules first then takes a few for herself and hands it back to me.

“Looks like you need a couple of these yourself, tough guy.”

I smile and take the box and grab a couple. I knew the tears were falling, I was just ignoring them and enjoying this moment in time. I used the tissue to wipe my own tears away. This moment in time was special, the way they interacted and reacted to each other was amazing. At least to me. I would later come to call this moment, the squee heard around the world. I still needed to tell Jimmy, but with Jules being so great with it, I couldn’t imagine him not being excited as well.

“Have you told bubba yet?”

Jules asked me, and I shook my head indicating I had not.

“Bubba?”

Amber asked with an amused look. I waved her off.

“James.”

I said, amused myself. I hadn’t realized she didn’t know Jules’ nickname for her brother. Jules though was in action now, she jumped up and ran.

“She must need to go grab her phone.

I muse to myself as Amber begins laughing.

“An eighteen year old girl needing her phone? Surely you jest.”

Now, it’s my turn to smirk.

“I never jest and don’t call me Shirley.”

/Fade\

---

/Scene Opens\

[off-camera]

In 2018, Jeffrey Faye Pike, then sixty-three years old and the president of the Bandidos MotorCycle Club, was sentenced to life in prison. His son, John Waverly Pike took over the club and its operations. The operations of the club were numerous, ranging from racketeering, weapon smuggling, prostitution, and drug trafficking. These things all happened so close to home that I couldn’t help but know about them. Pike and his second in command were both arrested in San Antonio, just hours away from Port Arthur. They were both sentenced to life in prison. It was Portillio though, the more dangerous of the two that had everyone in the state angry. Pike had given him permission to declare war against the Cossacks MC. A war that raged across the state and back again. Portillo, an expert strategist from all accounts, was given two consecutive life sentences with an additional twenty years tacked onto it for good measure.

All of that being said, you might understand why I wouldn’t believe my father was involved with these people in any way. That life was not for me, that’s for damn sure. I’d done my homework and of course there were anomalies in my old man’s checking account records. I wasn’t sure at this point if it was payouts from them or from the promotion for championship bonuses. I was going to find out though, and I was going to find out why they were targeting me. Why? I mean I’ve been a professional for almost two decades, why approach me now? My thought process is broken by the old school telephone ring of my cell. I slide the bar over to accept the call before I really even check the caller i.d.

“This is Mac.”

I place the call on speaker, as I usually do.

“Mr. Bane, make sure you watch the news tonight.”

I frown and the call disconnects from the other end. I do check the caller i.d. Which is tagged as “unknown”. I know who it is though, “Fuck you Waverly. You piece of shit.”. I’d done my homework and I knew what I was up against with this one. I was also able to find out that he hated being called Waverly. I dig the remote out of the console in the center of the sofa. I look at it for a moment and realize the news is starting soon. I press the button labeled power. I sigh as the anchorman goes into his introductory story, running the same information we’ve all  heard a thousand times about social distancing, masks, and the rising death toll in our country. Story number two began….

“Just hours after the Barlago Bar just outside of Las Vegas was blown up, two of the ten arresting officers were found dead. Shot execution style, according to law enforcement spokesperson.”

That has my attention and I sit a little straighter in my seat.

“Rookie Officer Nick Delgado of Brooklyn, New York and an eleven year veteran Joey Elipse of Las Vegas, Nevada were both pronounced deceased at the scene.”

I shake my head in disgust.

“Killed for doing their job. These motherfuckers have got to be stopped.”

“I couldn’t agree more Mr. Bane.”

A voice came from the entryway, I looked up to see a man that appears to be around six foot four and probably around two twenty. “Your daughter July let me in, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”. I wave him in and turn the television off.

“And you are?”I ask the question although the assumption is he’s either FBI or a local detective with the Las Vegas PD. I was wrong on both counts it would seem, he smiled and dug his wallet out of his front pocket slowly and carefully so as to not alarm anyone.

“My name is Charles Marlowe, I’m a special agent assigned by the department of Homeland Security.” He says, showing his badge to me. I grunt and then nod my head. I extend my hand and he shakes it in return.

“Well, Special Agent Marlowe, how can I help you get rid of that scumbag?”

He studies me for a long moment and then smiles.

“You don’t recognize me do you Mac?”

I’m taken aback, and no I didn’t quite honestly.

“No?....I don’t….”

His smile broadens as he begins telling me how we had met previously.

“I was actually introduced to you by our old friend Maggie Fletcher. She was our Lieutenant in Puerto Rico.”

“Oh shit! Chuckie….I remember you now! Damn man, look at you….”

He laughs a bit and we sit down on the sofa. He regains his composure from us reuniting. I mean, Charles and I were not close. He was a friend to Maggie and that made him a good soul in my book.

“Mac, has Pike tried to get you to join?”

I furrow my brow and nod my head.

“He did, I told him to fuck off.”

He nods his head sagely.

“I also presume he told you about your father?”

My demeanor changes and my eyes harden.

“I don’t believe that crap for a second Chuck.”

He gives me an easy going smile and nods his head agreeing with me.

“Good, that’s because that shit was a lie we fed him. We injected false data into his father’s database in order to put him on a false trail.”

The words he was speaking were english, and well enunciated but I don’t think they quite registered in my brain.

“You son of a bitch! You set me up! My family could be at risk right now because you used me as bait. I should fucking kill you right now.”

He stands up quickly and backs away, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Mac, I was trying to get to you before they found it. We need your help to get this family off the streets.”

I cut him off in mid explanation.

“Then someone new takes over the club and comes looking for me and mine. You’re an idiot!”

He quits back peddling and stands his ground taking a defensive stance.

“Now Mac, listen, we have a plan and it will result in the end of them all.”

/Fade\

---

Longevity.

Credibility and respect. These are things that usually go hand in hand. Especially for someone like you. By the very nature of your longevity here, you have a certain amount of credibility as a competitor. That credibility leads to a certain amount, albeit grudgingly given, respect. The fact that I’m new here, to you at least, that means I have no credibility and am deserving of no respect. In your opinion I have no credibility because the people I’ve beaten are of no great consequence in the grand scheme of things. What if I told you, I was of a like mind as you on that particular subject. For me though and if you can look at things from my perspective.

From the fatal four-way to the number one contenders match, I’ve simply beaten everyone that they put in front of me. They weren’t close matches, I dominated every single event. Even watching those tapes won’t prepare you for what I do in the ring. I’m not going to throw out numbers to you because it’s just metrics. Metrics are great in corporate america where they seek to thin the herd based on how productive an employee is. It however doesn’t amount to jack shit when you’re fighting in a ring or outside of it for that matter. There’s a significant size difference between us. None of that matters though. My six foot six inch, two hundred and eighty pound frame doesn’t matter. I’ve been beaten by men smaller than me before. It may happen again but not at High Stakes Ten. The numbers don’t reveal one very important thing.

Passion.

It cannot be measured on any scale, the person who wants it the most is the one who wins in these things. Passion or heart or whatever you’d like to call it. I don’t sense that from you at all. I sense a man with a dead soul, someone who only does this for money and has no sense of pride when it comes to our sport. You espouse your greatness to anyone who will listen. Your elite status that the world should kiss your feet. How you picked and chose when and where you would compete. Sounds like they need to investigate their legal team and fire some folks. Contract writing seems to be a downfall here. Last time I checked, contractually obligated, didn’t have one meaning for someone and a different meaning for someone else. Of course I feel quite certain that for a Warlock of your caliber the rules are different right?

Privilege.

It’s something you believe you have. From your social status to your status as a champion here in Sin City. You believe that you are privileged and not to be held to the same standards as others. You speak of mine and Amber's loss to the Black Sheep in one breath and say that getting tossed into a swimming pool are not the same. Either it’s more of that privileged speak or your just fucking dense. The other option is that you pay attention to no one you can see beyond the end of your nose. Funny thing is chief, I’d be willing to bet that when I punch you in that nose of yours you’ll bleed like everyone else. You’ll lose like everyone else and at the end of the night, that privilege won’t do shit for ya. I think the thing that stands out the most to me about you is simple.

Arrogance

For all of your confidence, this is the only division you’ve had any success in. According to the reading I did on the championship histories. You’ve won the Roulette title twice. It must be painful to languish in a division for a third tier title the entire time you’ve been here. That’s the way it is for people like you. You talk and talk and talk, I guess it’s because you like the sound of your own voice. Talking does not net results. Fighting does. Fighting with passion and purpose will defeat arrogance and privilege every fucking time. I don’t care if you’re from a blue blood family in Massachusetts or a country family from New Orleans. One thing I should note, the nineties called and they want their cheesy one liners back. The bane of my existence indeed. I ought to break your jaw for even saying that. Trying to be funny when you should be showing the world that you are dedicated to your craft.

A Student of the Game.

Are you starting to get a sense of the disadvantage you have? I’m a student of the game in every sense of the word. As a second generation wrestler, I learned very early in life that in order to be successful, you have to study the sport. Be able to spot trends and changes and be able to adapt to them. To evolve with them if you will. I study my opponents and I learn their tendencies. I learn what makes them tick. What pisses them off and more importantly what causes them to pause, out of fear or shock. What their strengths and weaknesses are and how best to exploit both. Your real disadvantage though is that you don’t know me. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of in the ring. You’ve no clue about my history, who I’ve beaten, who I’ve crippled or why. The one thing that you will learn up close and personal is this. There’s only one guy here that knows me even a little. Alex Jones. He however remembers a very young and brash kid from Texas that really didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Things are much different than they were then. I’ve evolved as an athlete and as a professional.

Perhaps at this point you’ll understand that I’m not just some fucking scrub that they put in this match to be your punching bag. If you don’t realize it before the match, you’ll realize it after the bell rings.

---

“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