« on: January 23, 2021, 07:32:24 PM »
Reflecting On The Past
You’ve all come to this video to see what O’Malley, the second challenger to Kris Ryan’s World Heavyweight Championship, has to say about his upcoming opportunity. An opportunity that word has it, he is lucky to have been presented with. An opportunity that only six weeks ago he had declared his intentions to earn. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, and he wasn’t about to stand back and do what so many others had done and flat out demand it. Even though many people expected it from him given his attitude over the last year in both SCU and SCW. He simply couldn’t act that way any longer.
No. He wanted to earn it.
But, nothing exactly worked out in the way he had hoped it would. His challenge to Jack Washington had backfired on the last show of the year when Jack lost the title to Kris Ryans, and not only that, but O’Malley had lost to, of all people, Agostino Romano. His performance in that match was, if you asked him, pathetic, and it only set him back even further in his path to the World Heavyweight Championship. There was simply no denying it.
But his wars with both Jack and Kris raged on. He was scheduled to face Kris weeks ago, but that match had been postponed for reasons still not clear. And certainly Jack would get his rematch against Kris before even being put up against O’Malley at all. To say the situation was a bit of a clusterfuck would be an understatement, don’t you think? So how does O’Malley feel about it all, going into the single biggest and most important match of his career thus far? Well, you’re all about to find out.
The camera opens in a darkened room of an as of this moment undisclosed location. A light behind the camera allows the viewers to see the silhouette of a man several feet ahead and as the camera moves closer, we can see that it is O’Malley himself. He stares into the camera and lets his hands drop to his side as he finally speaks, the lights in the room staying off.
“Ye shouldn’t be in this match, O’Malley. It doesn’t make sense. Jack and Kris deserve their one-on-one rematch. Ye don’t deserve this shot. Yer gonna fail against them again.”
O’Malley sighs and the camera focuses on his eyes, piercing with determination as he speaks.
“I’ve heard it all the last few days since my name was added to the main event of Inception. People have thrown every single doubtful word in me direction, and as much as I’ve tried to ignore it all and focus on the opportunity that I’ve been awarded, it’s simply becoming too much. I know I haven’t exactly been likable the last year. Hell, ye all voted me as Most Hated fer a reason…”
His voice trails off and he moves closer to the camera. The determination in his eyes has turned...remorseful. Full of regret and almost...shame. He takes in a deep breath as he lowers his head and continues speaking.
“But I ain’t even being given a chance to earn back yer respect and prove that I’m not that fella anymore. I’m not that cheating selfish bastard I was, and it seems I’m gonna be villified fer the rest of me career fer it, ain’t I? Well, ye know what? I’m throwin’ in the towel. I’m backing off an simply refusing to try and prove to any of you that I’m not that fella anymore. That I do actually deserve this chance, and that title, and I’m gonna keep fightin’ fer it until I can’t stand anymore.”
The lights in the room suddenly turn on and O’Malley looks around. The camera slowly turns and gets a good look at where O’Malley is, and after further inspection, we see it is the events center of the Golden Ring Casino- the venue for Inception in less than two weeks time. It’s empty at the moment, but no doubt soon enough the six-sided SCW ring will be set up as the show gets closer.
“This is where it’s all gonna happen. This is where, in less than two weeks, Jack Washington, Kris Ryans and meself will walk into this room, into the ring that will be center stage, and put on a hell of a show fer you all. Three men. One title. Two out of four falls. One winner. It may be a little early to call it, but I smell a Match O’ The Year contender already. But, I could be wrong.”
He walks slowly around the room, envisioning in his mind, what that night will be like. What it will feel like. And while the outcome is not guaranteed, his determination absolutely is.
“I may be a graduate of the GO Gym, but I’m fairly certain that I’m considered the underdog heading into this match. I’ve had a rough few months in SCW. I failed once in a World Heavyweight Championship match, and I’m the only fella in this that hasn’t held that title in me hands. If I were to ask Daniel Morgan what the odds are on this match so far, I know I’d have the least amount being bet on me. But...that’s ok. I’m actually used to that. Fer most of me life, actually.”
He stops and stands in the center of the room where the ring will be set up in just a few days time. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, thinking not only about his past, but how he plans to overcome it.
“Not many people know much about me past, or me life growing up. And there is a reason fer that. It wasn’t the best childhood. Was it the worst? Probably not. But to me, it had it’s obstacles and challenges, and it’s a big part of the reason I am the man I am today. And not just with decision fer me family. But decisions fer me. And fer me life and career. The reason I say that I’m used to all the doubts and the haters...is because it’s all I was surrounded by growing up. Never once did anyone think I’d actually do somethin’ with me life, other than be a complete failure.”
He opens his eyes quickly and the camera zooms in on them, even more determined and focused than before.
“Not until I put the right people in me life. So when I say I’m done tryna prove to ye all that I’m not the failure ye all think I am, I mean it. There’s only three people I need to prove meself to from this moment on, and that is me wife, me son, and meself. And in about six months time, the child that Darcy is carrying. That’s it. No one else but me closest family, because they are the most important thing to me. And I’m gonna do right by them. I’m gonna be the man they need me to be, no matter what it takes. Can I guarantee that I’m gonna win this match against Jack and Kris?”
He shakes his head very slowly and continues staring into the camera.
“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that. But what I can guarantee is that I’m gonna do everything in me power to achieve my goal. I’m gonna do everything it takes to be the best man out of the three of us and walk out as the new World Heavyweight Championship, because being the success that no one thought I would be? That makes it all the much sweeter. And leading the division when no one thinks I’m capable...Well, this is me shot to prove them wrong. Each. And every. Week.”
He holds up his index finger, momentarily stopping before he gets carried away.
“But I’m not gonna get ahead of meself here. Because the first step is winning that title. And in order to do that...I have two very big obstacles ahead of me. Two fellas that are out fer me blood and who want and expect nothing more than to see me fail miserably.”
He actually smiles as he stares into the camera and it zooms in on his face.
“Jack. Kris. Let’s do a bit of reflecting this week, yeah? Let’s reflect on the past, and how it’s all led to this moment and this match. And I’m not talkin’ about just our recent past, fellas. I’m talkin’ about the pivotal moments in me life that shaped who I am. That built the foundation fer the determination and the confidence ye see in me today. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means...but it was mine. And yer gonna listen. Or yer not, and yer gonna get a harsh reality check on January thirty-first. Yer choice, fellas…”
He half shrugs and grins again, before closing his eyes, taking in another deep breath, and allowing his memories to take over. Memories of a life he doesn’t like to relive very often. Memories of a life that forever had an impact on the man he has become today.
Just over ten years ago, Shane Finnigan O’Malley came into this world. His parents Finn and Fiona O’Malley, were the proud parents of a strapping and handsome little lad, who came out of the womb with a head full of dark hair, and a gracious set of lungs. At least, they should have been proud parents, anyway. You see, Finn wasn’t as vested in his child’s life as he should have been. He was indifferent from the start. Almost...distant. And because of that, Shane would grow up feeling as though he was to blame for his father’s constant absences, and his parent’s constant fighting. His mother made him feel that way, of course.
Fiona: Christ almighty, boy! Ye can’t do anything right, can ye?! What the hell is this?!
She screams as she walks into the kitchen and sees the mess he had, by accident of course. A plate and glass shattered on the floor, with the remnants of the food and the drink strewn about. He was trying to clean it up, but had tried to clean it up before she saw, but was too late.
Shane: It...it was an accident, mum. I swear!
She nods her head quickly, but not believing his excuse one bit as she walks over to him and the mess, crossing her arms as she glares down at her son.
Fiona: It’s always accidents with ye, isn’t it?! Maybe if ye weren’t such a clumsy lad, this wouldn’t happen now would it?! What are ye cryin’ now?!
Shane shakes his head as he continues wiping up the mess. He tries to round up the pieces of broken glass and accidentally cuts himself in the process, and he tries to wipe away the tears that he is now embarrassed to be shedding.
Fiona: Christ, I’ve got a sap fer a son. I may as well have had a girl. I should’ve, but got stuck with the likes of ye! And now yer bleedin’ on me floor!
Shane: I cut meself on the glass! I didn’t mean to!
Fiona: Don’t ye talk back to me like that ye little shite! I’m yer mother! Now finish cleanin’ up this mess and spend the rest of the night in yer room!
He sniffles and continues wiping up the floor, doing his best not to allow anymore blood to get anywhere. Before his mother walks away, he looks up at her, reluctant to ask the next words that come out of his mouth.
Shane: When is dadaí gonna be home?
Fiona: How the hell should I know?! He busts his arse workin’ fer a livin’ to keep this roof over our heads and food on our table. He doesn’t have to be home all hours of the day, does he?!
Shane shakes his head.
Shane: No, mum.
Fiona: Do ye think he cares about ye, boy? Do ye think he cares about either of us? Because he doesn’t, and he never will. He’s too proud of that brother of yer’s to give a shit about me or ye, boy. Ye’ll never be good enough fer him.
Shane immediately goes still and stares up at his mother, the words cutting him much like the glass had. Only there was no blood from this wound. Just a deep ache.
Shane: Brother?! What do ye mean, brother?!
Fiona grins and folds her arms. This was apparently information her ten year old son had not been informed of...at least until now. And what a way to find out.
Fiona: Oh, yeah. He knocked up some British woman before I got pregnant with ye. Some woman he met on a “business trip,” but he doesn’t love us, boy. He only stays with us because a divorce would ruin us. But oh is he proud of the little fella. Smart one he is.
Shane: Yer lying!
Fiona’s jaw drops and she quickly walks up to Shane as he has gotten back to his feet, now more upset than before. She swings her hand back and slaps him hard across the face. So hard, his head jolts to the side and a red welt forms on his cheek.
Fiona: Don’t ye dare call me a liar, boy! I do no such thing, but if ye don’t believe me, ask him fer yerself when he comes home. Christ, the minute I found out I was pregnant with ye after learnin’ what yer father did...I shoulda saved us all the trouble!
Shane just stands there, in shock, holding his cheek. Fiona stares at him for a moment before she turns and storms away without another word. Shane drops down to his knees, letting every word sink in. Every revelation. And he only had his mother’s word to go by. Until his father was home, he wouldn’t know what to think. So he would wait, and try his best to not cause any more trouble until then.
The following two days would be the longest of his short life. The tension and the silence between Shane and his mother was no way for a ten year old boy to live, but this was his life. As hard as it was, he had nowhere else to go and despite how his mother treated him, and his father’s absence, he still loved them. At least he thought he did.
He was in his room the moment he heard his father come home. He knew it soon after because his mother immediately started yelling about having to put up with Shane once again. He quietly snuck over to his door and opened it just a crack to get a better listen. This was a bit of a ritual, it seemed. His father would return home from one of his business trips, and they’d start fighting. Finn would get irritated by it rather quickly then disappear off into his own bedroom slash study. This time before he could make it to the comforts of his room, Shame would stop him.
Shane: Do I have a brother?
Finn stops dead in his tracks. He slowly turns and faces his son, who is just staring at him with sad eyes. Finn sighs and then rolls his eyes, realizing his wife had broken the news.
Finn: Jaysus Christ...she told ye?!
Shane: So...it’s true?! I do have a brother?!
Finn is clearly annoyed and instead of gently confirming the news, he nods, and does so brashly, and with annoyance.
Finn: Yeah, ye’ve got a brother. An older one. Quit askin’ questions and get back in yer room. Ye don’t need to be—
Shane: Can...Can I meet him?
Finn: What? No, ye can’t meet him! Ye’d only make yerself look like an arse. He’s a smart kid. He’s goin’ somewhere with his life. Don’t be puttin’ it in yer head that just because ye’ve got a brother that it’ll change anything.
Shane frowns and lowers his head. He had hoped maybe his brother would accept him, but it seems he would never be given the chance to find out.
Finn: Christ. Don’t be such a sap, fella. Get over it, get back into yer room and quit buggin’ me would ye?!
Finn then turns and storms off into his bedroom. He slams the door shut and Shane slowly turns and disappears back into his own. Before he closes the door, he looks up and sees that his mother has heard the entire exchange between them. She smirks and nods and Shane quickly closes the door so he doesn’t have to see her vile face any longer.
It was at that moment that something snapped in him. If they were going to insist on him being a disappointment and a troublesome child, he was now set on making it a reality. And he no longer felt any desire to meet his brother, or the perfect child he apparently was.
Eleven Years Later…
O’Malley, having stopped going by his first name Shane, never thought this day would come. He hadn’t lived with his parents in almost five years now, and truth be told, he didn’t even want to do what he was about to do. He was living with Tommy McFadden now and he hadn’t even spoken to his parents since leaving home years ago. It was all the more reason to be shocked when his mother had shown up at Tommy’s doorstep just two days ago looking for her son to break the news to him.
His father was dead. And today was his funeral. O’Malley had no intention of going to the funeral. He had no reason to. His father had made it quite clear years ago that he was not proud of his son, nor would he ever be. He would only ever be proud of the son he had with a British woman. The son who O’Malley learned was named Alistair. And he had still never met him.
So why would he go to the funeral? What point was there in showing up to bury a man he no longer considered his father, nor felt any ounce of emotion over the fact that he was dead? There wasn’t in O’Malley’s eyes, but against his better judgement, he allowed Tommy to persuade him to go. If for nothing more than closure.
He stayed at a distance throughout the duration of the graveside service. There weren’t that many people there, but he could see his mother at the forefront, shedding tears for a man who made her life miserable. Fake tears no doubt, so all he could do was crack a smile and laugh at the spectacle and wait until everyone else was gone to do what he came here to do. That was until he saw someone standing a few feet away from his mother who he didn’t know, but by his appearance, he had a feeling he knew exactly who he was.
His older, more accomplished brother. The resemblance was obvious, but O’Malley didn’t care. When he first found out about him, he had wanted to meet him, but things quickly changed. He had no desire in proving just how right his father was. And looking at Alistair, he could see was a pretentious asshole the guy was.
He tried to stay hidden as everyone made their leave following the service. And just when he thought it was safe, he made his way over to his father’s casket and just stared at it. He had planned to say a few words, but as he approached it, the words just ran away and he couldn’t do it. But he didn’t shed a tear either.
It was finally over. At least where his father was concerned. He really never would see or speak to his father again, and that brought a great satisfaction to him. And just when he was about to leave and never return to this grave, he came face to face with his brother.
Alistair: You’re Shane, aren’t you?
Bastard. That is the word that sprang to O’Malley’s head when he heard Alistair’s voice for the first time. And while they were only a year in part in age, Alistair presented himself as much older.
O’Malley: Don’t call me Shane. I don’t go by that name anymore.
Alistair: Do you know who I am?
O’Malley laughed and nodded. All he wanted to do was crack Alistair across his jaw.
O’Malley: Well unless I’m standin’ here havin’ a conversation with a younger version of me arsehole of a father, I’d wager yer Alistair.
Alistair smiles and nods, even ignoring the harsh words O’Malley said about their father.
Alistair: So you do know of me, then. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances…
O’Malley: I ain’t. Only thing I’m sorry about is that we’re meetin’ at all. It was nice chattin’ with ye, but I really need to be—
Alistair steps in front of O’Malley as he tries to walk away, blocking his path. O’Malley is not at all pleased with this decision, but he holds himself back from doing what he wants to.
Alistair: Look, I know why you’re upset, Shane. I would be, too, of I were in your shoes.
O’Malley: Oh ye really don’t, fella. And don’t feckin’ call me Shane. Now I suggest ye get out of me way because I’ve got nothin’ to say to ye.
Alistair: You have every reason to be angry, but not at me. Be angry with him if you want to be, but I’m trying to be your brother, here. And I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to call you.
O’Malley clenches his hand into a fist and glares at Alistair. He didn’t know why he hadn’t punched him yet, but if he pisses him off any further, he just might.
O’Malley: What are ye doin’ here, huh? Are ye so broken up about dear old dad’s death that ye felt the need to be here? Or, did he treat you like shite like he did to me? Because I find the latter to be less likely considerin’ he always boasted about how terrific a son ye were, and how ye were gonna do big things with yer life. Piss off!
Alistair: Why don’t we go somewhere else and talk about this? Perhaps standing next to his casket and arguing isn’t such—
O’Malley: I don’t give a shite! I’ve got no desire to hear about yer perfect life or what success ye’ve had in yer life because the fact is, ye had everything...and I had nothin’. Obviously. Yer the one standin’ there in an expensive tailored suit after all.
O’Malley rolls his eyes. Alistair looks down at his suit and then back up to his brother. He was genuinely trying to get through to him, but it was going nowhere.
Alistair: It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. He kept us apart for our entire lives for reasons I’ll never understand, but we can be brothers. Come back to England with me. You can have a life.
The words struck a nerve in O’Malley almost immediately. He could...have a life? In England?
O’Malley: What the feck does that mean? You think I don’t have a life now?!
Alistair: That is not—
O’Malley: Feck off, Alistair! I escaped the shite that YOUR father and me mother put me through. I was determined to not be everything he said I would be. I made a life fer meself and I’m still buildin’ that life. I don’t need to go to England and get fitted fer some fancy ridiculous lookin’ suits to have a life. And I don’t need an arrogant jackass like ye to help me! PISS OFF and stay outta my life!
O’Malley hauls off and shoves Alistair, knocking him against their father’s casket. Alistair watches, shocked, as O’Malley storms off and disappears out of the cemetery, wondering if the two would ever see or speak to one another ever again. Or, if they’d even have any sort of brotherly bond…
We once again find ourselves in the events center of the Golden Ring Casino. In the center of the room where O’Malley once stood, he’s now seated very comfortably in a chair with his arms folded across his chest. Despite having started to re-live such a painful time during his past, he seems rather calm and unaffected by the reflection, and instead, is focused intently on the camera. And in his mind, on the first of his two opponents.
“Jack Washington. The one fella in this match that hasn’t been quite as big a thorn in me side as Kris Ryans, but a thorn all the same. And not because ye really did anything personally to me, but because yer attitude just...sucks. It really sucks, fella. I know yer probably sittin’ back, watchin’ this and grinning that arrogant little grin of yer’s. And that’s fine. But let me explain why it sucks, fella.”
He keeps his arms folded, but pauses for a brief moment. He closes his eyes and cracks his neck from side to side before reopening his eyes and returning his focus to Jack Washington.
“Ye’ve got this God Complex, Jack. Don’t get me wrong. Yer a talented kid. Yer a hell of an athlete and performer in that ring, and because of it, ye won the World Heavyweight Championship in a short amount of time with SCW. In less than a year in fact. Ye lived up to everything ye said, and that’s pretty damn impressive. But...that’s not always a good thing, fella. And let me tell ye why.”
He unfolds his arms now and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together as he gathers everything he wants to say. He needs this to be clear. He needs this to be spot on. He needs Jack Washington to hear every word.
“Ye’ve become what people like to call...a flash in the pan. Ye know what that means, right? Well, if not, I’ll fill ye in. Even if ye do, I’m still gonna fill ye in because I want every word to sink in, Jack. Ye see, a flash in the pan...ye, fella...is a person whose sudden, yet brief success...isn’t achievable again. No matter how hard ye try. Or what ye say, that success ye saw rather quickly, was all ye’ll ever see. Are ye hearin’ me, Jacky boy? Are these words pissin’ ye off?”
He grins and lets out a chuckle, nodding slowly.
“They should be. Ye aimed too high, too fast, Jack. Instead of doin’ what I was tryna do and start from the bottom and work me way up, ye went straight for the top of the ladder and ye took it fer yerself. Yeah, it worked out in yer favor, but look what happened? Ye held the title fer not even three months and ye weren’t ready for the biggest challenge of all when ye faced Kris Ryans and because of it, he’s now walkin’ around as the World Heavyweight Champion, buggin’ the shite outta all of us. Thanks fer that, fella.”
He lets out an annoyed laugh and shakes his head, then leans back in the chair, folding his arms again. He props his right leg on his left knee as he continues.
“If ye were just an unstoppable force, and the best man to lead this division, where is the proof? Sure, ye beat Alex Jones fer the title. Sure, ye successfully defended it against Austin James Mercer. Whoopty friggin’ doo, fella. Anyone who is anyone can beat the members of Wolfslair lately so that ain’t exactly something ye can brag about. I thank ye fer it, because those fellas are annoying little feckers, so at least ye did something right there.”
He rolls his eyes briefly and lets out a sigh. He holds up his index finger again as he continues, hoping in his mind that the words are just eating Jack apart.
“But the one time ye had a real challenge, what happens, Jack? Ye failed. Ye got too cocky fer yer own good, and it was just the beginning of yer downfall, fella. Because as good as ye are, or ye might be, that one loss...it’s gonna eat at ye fer quite some time. And the funny part? Yer always gonna blame me fer it, because I was at ringside. Think what ye want, but I didn’t cost ye shite, Jack. Ye had a chance to bounce back and get the job done after I stopped ye from keepin’ that title by a disqualification, and ye couldn’t do it. That’s on ye, fella. Not me.”
He lets his leg fall back down and plants his foot on the floor alongside the other one, then sits up, adjusting his position. He cracks a smile and chuckles, quickly realizing something as he focuses longer on Jack Washington.
“But ye know what, Jacky boy? Despite everything I am sayin’ against ye right now, I’ve come to realize something. Something ye might not even agree with, but the more I think about it, the more I realize, it’s really quite obvious. Ye see, Jack, ye and me? We’re not so different. We got a lot in common, actually, so I might understand ye a lot more than ye’ll realize or even care to admit. Allow me to explain, yeah? And hopefully it’ll all click in that brain of yer’s and knock ye down a couple notches.”
He leans forward again, holding up a single finger. He stares into the camera, and his face turns serious.
“One. Neither one of us has a squeaky clean past, Jack. I ain’t too familiar or in the know with all the skeletons in yer closet, fella, but we’ve both had to fight like hell to prove ourselves and get somewhere in this business. Ye may be younger, but I know we share those qualities so don’t sit there and try to deny it. The only difference is that I’ve wisened up with me experience, and allowed me attitude to change while ye? Yer what I used to be, fella. Yer still angry, and until ye get past that...ye’ll never truly experience the growth that I have.”
He pauses and then holds up a second finger. He sighs and rolls his eyes before he continues.
“Two. Kris Ryans has beaten us both two times now. That, is a sad fact that even disgusts me to admit that I share with ye, but it’s a fact all in the same. The only difference is that the second loss he technically holds over me, he didn’t pin me. It was a fatal four way and he pinned someone else, but I’m man enough now to admit, I still carry that loss because I was still in that match. It’s one of the reasons, this match being excluded, that I’ve come to dislike matches with multiple opponents. But I’m sure ye understand, right?”
He drops his arm, resting the palm of his hand on his knee. His leg begins to bounce up and down for a moment, a quick glimpse of the effects of minor anxiety. He catches himself, then makes his leg go still.
“Jack, I think ye and I can agree that despite our differences...despite how much we might hate each other...One of us has to earn that loss back from Kris. One of us has to FINALLY prove that Kris isn’t unbeatable. We can get the better of him and knock him way the feck down. Now I hate to say it, but I don’t think that person is gonna be ye, fella. Not unless ye can quiet down that anger ye’ve got and that shame ye feel fer losing the title to him last month. Maybe if I see a different side of ye in that ring, I’ll think differently, but this one...this one has to be mine, kid.”
He leans back in the chair, getting as comfortable and as relaxed as he can. The confidence and the determination coming from him is perhaps the clearest we have seen than ever before.
“I know how much ye want it, though. I understand, Jack. I really do. Because I’ve felt the same way fer a lot longer than ye have, kid. I’ve been itchin’ to get in that ring with Kris fer months, and I finally get me chance. I wish it were one-on-one, but in this case. Two birds. One stone. But in the end, one of us isn’t gonna get pinned so someone still isn’t gonna be satisfied. Even past this match, someone is gonna have unfinished business, and not a one of us can deny it. I hope yer ready, Jack. Because with me mindset right now...Yer gonna be the unpredictable one.”
He closes his eyes one last time and leans forward. He props his elbows on his knees again and then drops his head into his hands. He breathes slowly, and just...thinks for a few moments. So much at stake, yet only one man can win. And he wants this more than either of his opponents will admit or recognize. He finally opens his eyes and very slowly looks into the camera.
“Get ready, Jack. Because fer me? History isn’t gonna repeat itself. The past...will remain in the past.”
The camera zooms in on his eyes one final time, and he doesn’t even blink. He remains determined and focused as ever, ready and willing for the match ahead.
Year: Late 2014
The last few months have been nothing short of dramatic for O’Malley. Up until just a couple of months ago, he was well on his way to moving to an engagement with Darcy, his girlfriend of just over a year, but that all changed in the blink of an eye when the raven haired American woman named Misty stepped foot in his local pub. He never intended things to turn out the way they had, but no matter how hard he tried, he soon found himself falling in love with Misty, and that meant having to break things off with Darcy. But that decision did not come without its consequences.
Growing up, he was always known as the troublemaker. His parents knew it, and eventually everyone in the town did when he started acting out as a pre-teen and for years after that. It wasn’t until the owner and bartender of the pub, Tommy, had come into his life that things started to turn around. And once Darcy came into his life, those in the town who knew him as long as they did, had hope. But now? He was throwing that all away to take a chance.
Tommy: I tell ye, O’Malley, I’ve known ye a long time now and as much as I like that Misty lass, I’m not so sure all o’ this is a good idea. Yer thinkin’ with the wrong brain, kid.
Tommy chuckles as he alludes to the idea that O’Malley was chasing tail and not chasing love. The two were having a serious conversation alone in Tommy’s pub. Tommy had been more of a father to him than O’Malley’s own father was, and O’Malley had to respect his opinion. Even if it was wrong.
O’Malley: Of course ye’d think that, Tommy. But it ain’t about that. There’s somethin’ about this woman. There’s somethin’ about a life in America that I need to experience. Even if she didn’t have a daughter an’ a family in America, I’d still be making the same decision.
It had taken some time to plan out, but O’Malley had made the decision to leave his hometown and home country to move to America. It was a big step, he knew, but he couldn’t begin to explain what he was feeling right now.
Tommy: Yer runnin’ away, aren’t ye? After all these years, now yer makin’ the decision to tuck yer tail between yer legs and run, even though ye got no reason to. And ye ruined a great thing ye had with Darcy when ye don’t even know if whatever this is, is gonna work out.
O’Malley: I know, Tommy. I know, alright? But if ye had the chance to experience somethin’ great in America, wouldn’t ye take it? If ye had this gut feeling that there was something...big out there fer ye? I’ve never felt this way, Tommy.
O’Malley finishes off the pint of beer he had in front of him, handing the empty glass off to Tommy. Tommy goes to fill it up, but O’Malley holds his hand up, signalling he doesn’t want another pint.
Tommy: Yer makin’ a mistake, kid. I dunno what it is ye think yer gonna find, but I don’t think yer gonna find it. I think things with Darc were gettin’ serious. She was pushin’ ye to put a ring on her finger, and yer usin’ this Misty woman as an excuse. And what are ye gonna do if things don’t work out the way this gut feelin’ is tellin’ ye they will? What then? Ye think yer gonna come back here and Darc will just welcome ye back with open arms?
Tommy laughs and shakes his head. He leans forward on his palms against the counter, trying to get through to the man who has been like a son to him for so many years. Despite how he might feel, he knew that this was O’Malley’s decision to make, and to deal with any consequences that would arise from it.
O’Malley: No, I don’t think that at all. I could never ask Darcy to take me back if things don’t work out. And I don’t expect her to wait to find out, either. Ye know how many fellas she had chasin’ her even when we were together? She’ll be fine, Tommy. And if things don’t work out in America...well, I’ll deal with that if it happens. But I need yer blessing, Tommy. I need to know ye support me in this.
Tommy shakes his head again.
Tommy: Ye don’t need anything from me, kid. It’s yer life. I can’t stop ye from doin’ anything. Except makin’ trouble. Because if ye go over there and do somethin’ that lands ye in prison...I’ll come over there and kill ye meself.
O’Malley: What the feck would I do to land in prison?!
Tommy: Hell if I know. I’m just givin’ ye a warning. I’m proud of ye fer growin’ up like ye have over the last fifteen years or so I’ve known ye. I’d just hate to see ye screw it up. It took a lot of work to get that shite yer parents drilled into ye outta that head of yer’s but I pulled it off. Don’t go disappointin’ me now.
Disappointment. That was something O’Malley hadn’t thought about in years. At least not for as long as he had known Tommy. Tommy had saved his life and he didn’t think he could ever repay him for it.
O’Malley: I owe ye a lot, Tommy. And I promise ye I’ll do everything it takes not to disappoint ye. Movin’ to America...I’m tellin’ ye, I’m gonna be something. I don’t know what it is, but I’m gonna find out.
Just then, they hear the door to the pub slam shut. They turn their attention to the door and see Darcy standing there, shock written all over her face.
Darcy: You’re moving to America?!
O’Malley looks to Tommy, but he just shakes his head and looks away. This is O’Malley’s problem to deal with. Darcy’s eyes well with tears and she turns and bolts out of the pub. O’Malley quickly stands up and chases after her.
O’Malley: Darc! Wait! Would ye stop?!
He catches up to her, grabbing her hand. She spins around and glares at him as more tears of heartbreak fall down her cheeks.
O’Malley: What..what are ye doin’ here?
Darcy: What does it matter? You’re moving to America now. To be with your raven haired whore.
O’Malley: Of course it matters. Ye’ve been avoiding Tommy’s pub since we broke up.
Darcy: Since you broke up with me. And I came here to talk to you, but again, it doesn’t matter. Just leave me alone.
She yanks her hand away from him and takes a few steps back, preparing to leave, but he steps towards her again, not wanting it to end like this.
O’Malley: I’m sorry, Darcy. I don’t know how many times I can say, but I am. I never meant to hurt ye, and I’ll hate meself fer it fer the rest of me life. But I had to make this decision. I had to do this fer meself.
Darcy laughs and rolls her eyes. She wipes away her final tears, her mood changing from heartbroken to angry in just a matter of seconds.
Darcy: You know, I was going to come here and pour my heart out to you, because as much as I’ve tried, I can’t stop loving you. But I guess you never really loved me if everything we ever had you can just forget about when a complete stranger walks in the door. You make me sick.
O’Malley: Of course I loved ye, Darc. I still do! I don’t expect ye to understand, but I have to do this. I have to experience life outside of Ireland, and the sooner I’m gone, the sooner ye can move on with yer life. Ye deserve to be happy.
Darcy: Your parents were right. You’re never going to amount to anything, O’Malley. Especially not if you move to America to be with that woman. You’re killing whatever life you were building. You’re throwing away all that hard work that Tommy put into helping you for a woman you don’t even know. I hope it blows up in your face. Have a great life, Shane.
He attempts to step towards her again, but she lifts her index finger in warning and he backs off. She stands tall and then turns and walks away, and O’Malley has more words to process from someone he cared about, yet his actions have hurt her the most. He prayed to God that his gut feeling was leading him in the right direction, because if not, there would be no living this down.
Back in the events center of the Golden Ring Casino, O’Malley is now seen seated at a small table that has now been set up, pushed against the wall. He has a pint of beer in front of him, as he runs his hand up and down the handle and looks into the camera.
“This one has been a long time comin’, hasn’t it Kris? The two of us have been back and forth eggin’ each other on and gettin’ on each other’s nerves fer months now, yet the last time we were even in the ring together was on Crystal’s Queen Fer A Day match she put us in. Ye know, the one where ye won and secured that championship match that ultimately worked out fer ye? Since then, we’ve been unlucky enough to not get each other in the ring to beat the hell out of each other.”
He takes a drink of his beer, savoring the flavor and reflecting on the last several months of feuding with Kris Ryans. Considering how many times Kris has pissed him off, his demeanor is rather calm and collected. Much different then how he will be by the time the bell rings.
“If I’m honest, I ain’t quite sure how this feud even started. I don’t remember, and at this point, it doesn’t even matter, because when it all boils down to it, I’m determined to end it in this match. Pinning ye or making ye tap is my ultimate goal because it’ll prove once and fer all that I’m not the bitch boy ye make me out to be. Ye like to sling yer schoolboy insults at me and ye act so proud of it, but what does it really say about ye, Kris? Go on, I’ll give ye a few seconds to say it out loud and let yerself hear it. But I bet yer just laughin’.”
He leans back, his back touching the wall and he just stares into the camera. His eyes look down to his beer, doing exactly as he says and giving Kris a moment to answer his question as he hopefully watches. After a few moments, O’Malley grins and looks back into the camera.
“Now that I’ve given ye ample time to spit out a lie, I’ll tell ye what it means, Kris. It means yer an immature dickhead with an ego he doesn’t even deserve. Sure ye’ve accomplished a lot, there’s no denyin’ that, but much like Jacky boy, the attitude behind it ruins it fer ya. Ye’ve been walkin’ around, braggin’ about yer win loss record since comin’ back, and bein’ a double champ, but who have ye really faced, Kris? And how many of those matches were yer tag matches with that blonde bimbo that everyone, except Despayre, hates? I know this is an unpopular opinion, but when most of yer wins are tag matches, ye don’t have much to brag about because ye rely on someone else to get those wins.”
He folds his arms and looks back to his half full pint of beer, taking his time in drinking it. He could just chug the rest of it, but he’s too focused on Kris and the championship belt he now possesses.
“Now I ain’t gonna sit here and spew out the same shit and continue focusing on the fact that instead of doin’ yer own thing and kickin’ arse in the singles division, ye let Mikah make the decision fer ya and came back only fer the mixed tag division. Because I’ve said it many times and I’m not gonna be a broken record here. What I want to focus on, Kris. Is ye and what a shite human bein’ ye are, despite what others may think. I ain’t perfect meself, I’m not gonna deny that, but compared to ye? I’m a hell of a lot better.”
He can feel his mood quickly diminishing and takes his pint of beer, polishing it off. He sets the glass back down and spins it, taking in a few deep breaths to bring his rising agitation back down.
“Kris, ye’ve been in SCW off an on fer how many years, fella? Six years or so? And in that time ye’ve gone from callin’ yerself a Nobody, to an Accident. And now The Miracle. Anymore and ye’ll have just as many egos as Crystal Seven Names. Ye’ll be known as the male Crystal Miltonzich or whatever she calls herself these days. Yer definitely headin’ that way quickly.”
He chuckles and grins into the camera. His mood has returned to the calm demeanor he had before, focusing his mind where it needs to.
“So, ye were a Nobody first. Along with Tim and Alexis Staggs and some other people, right? Ye paraded yerselves around here whinin’ and bitchin’ about not bein’ taken seriously and causin’ a bunch of chaos. Bein’ a bunch of misfits tryna get what ye wanted. Let me tell ye, people don’t like that attitude, fella. Lookin’ back on yer matches from back then, ye had talent, fella. Ye weren’t this Nobody ye made yerself out to be, and I imagine even if people told ye otherwise, ye wouldn’t have believed them. Ye brought everything on yerself, and I don’t feel one bit sorry fer ye.”
He leans forward then stands up from the chair, taking a few steps forward. He walks slowly but with a purpose, and still focused intently on Kris Ryans and hopefully, knocking him off the pedestal he has placed himself on. Though in his mind, O’Malley knows that when it comes to Kris...that is unlikely.
“And then from there ye transitioned into the Accident. Maybe that was a more accurate way to consider yerself, Kris, because I’m sure that’s exactly what ye are. Dare I go as far as to say…a mistake? Because even through all the adversity ye’ve faced, Kris...instead of rising above it and bein’ a better man than all that and growing as a human being...Ye continue to make mistake after mistake. Be mistake after mistake. How many chances have ye been given, Kris? By yer friends. Yer family. Life? How many?”
He starts counting on his fingers as if trying to figure out the answer for himself, but after the first hand, he waves it away and shrugs and looks back into the camera.
“Yer the only one who knows the real answer to that one, Kris. But no matter what the number is, me point remains the same. Ye’ve been given chance after chance, and ye still feck things up in the end. Ye still ruin not only the lives of those closest to ye, but yer own life, fella. Ain’t ye tired, fella? Haven’t ye had enough and finally seen the bigger picture and realized it’s time to grow the feck up and quit bein’ such an immature disappointment?”
He taps the side of his head with his index finger and grins.
“Think about it, fella. Prove me wrong, and maybe. Just maybe...I’ll change me opinion of ye. Until then, there’s not a whole lot that’s gonna change me opinion, because every time ye speak...every time ye tweet...it just justifies everything I think about ye, fella. And deep down, I think ye know it, too.”
He makes it back to the center of the room and begins slowly pacing back and forth, placing his hands in his pockets as he continues.
“And let’s talk about now, fella. Yer most recent and current run in SCW where ye refer yerself as the Miracle. Part of The Black Sheep. Now that I think about it, maybe a miracle is quite fitting fer ye. I mean, it has to be because there is no other explanation on why ye were allowed back in SCW, let alone how yer still walkin’ this planet. Yer basking in that miracle status, but again...doin’ feck all to make yerself a better person. I’ve got a suggestion fer yer next nickname, Kris. It’s really quite perfect because, yer headed there pretty quickly, and maybe after this match is over, it’ll be inevitable. Ye ready fer this one?”
He stops pacing, stares into the camera and gets a wicked grin on his face.
He nods slowly and laughs, one hundred percent serious with his suggestion.
“Oh, yes, Kris. Yer well on yer way to becoming The Tragedy Kristopher Ryans. The fella who pretended so hard to be somebody and do something with his life. The fella who constantly ran his mouth like the cocky son of a bitch he was, and somehow pulled off these huge victories and accomplishments, only to feck them up time and time again. And he kept comin’ back fer more. Until...tragedy. Just like I said to Jack, yer gonna come crashin’ down eventually, and when ye do...ye won’t get back up. Not this time.”
He now shakes his head and begins his pacing again, the thoughts in his mind quickly transferring to the World Heavyweight Championship. And the thought of Kris still being champion after Inception IV.
“I know ye want to be the champion when all is said and done after this match, Kris. Ye passed along the Mixed Tag title of yer’s to Coby so ye could continue holdin’ and defendin’ that title, and keep up this decent run ye got goin’. I’m not surprised. I don’t think anyone else is surprised, either. Yer where everyone of us wants to be with a championship everyone dreams of winning. But, Kris, I want ye to look into me eyes. Listen to me voice and understand just how serious I am when I say this.”
He quickly turns his head and stares into the camera as it zooms in slowly on his eyes. His nostrils even flare as he breathes slowly.
“Yer championship run? It’s gonna end before it has a chance to even begin. Yer gonna be faced with the decision to go runnin’ back to yer little pets in The Black Sheep, because when I win that title, I don’t plan to let it get away anytime soon. And that’s just if I win, because let’s not ferget that Jack is involved in this one, and just as much as I want to beat ye, Kris, Jack does too. He wants the title he still thinks is his back, and he’s gonna put up a hell of a fight. Don’t try and sit there and promise an outcome, Kris, because in a match like this...anything is possible.”
O’Malley folds his arms where he stands, closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath, as he works his way to his closing. So many words have been spoken and so much has run through his mind, but words only go so far. Actions speak so much more.
“And I have to remember that the two of ye...there’s a lot more hatred fer me combined from the both of ge than anything else. Ye both felt I ruined the match between ye last month, and ye want to make me pay. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a little teamwork at some point just to get me out of the picture. But try all ye want, fellas. I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles in life and that’s exactly what the two of ye are. Another obstacle. Two fellas in me way of gettin’ to the top of the division that I’ve been bustin’ me arse fer. Sunday January thirty-first, I may be walkin’ in the least favorite, but I’ll be walkin’ out with everyone speakin’ me name.”
His hands drop and the camera stays focused on his eyes, quickly narrowing into determined aggression. He smiles one last time.
“See ye real soon, fellas…”
And with that the scene fades...to black!