Voiceover...
“Do you know how World War 1 started? On 28 June 1914, Gavrilo Princip, a Bosnian Serb Yugoslav nationalist, assassinated the Austro-Hungarian heir Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, leading to the July Crisis. In response, on July 23, Austria-Hungary issued an ultimatum to Serbia. Serbia's reply failed to satisfy the Austrians, and the two moved to a war footing. The difference here is that Goth failed to Assassinate the prince and he wants blood.”
“I have been used to people being jealous of my station in life. I mean how could you not? I have never had to deal with anything truly sad or devastating in my life. I have been fortunate. It has nothing to do with being handed things. I wasn't handed my talent. I wasn't handed four state championships or awards for my conduct. But this isn't high school and life is not played by the rules here. If you think I am too good to ever break the rules then think again.”
“Goth could have just walked away but instead he chose to stoke the fire. He thought he could get away with it because I am what they call a ‘rookie’. Thought he could inflate his ego at my expense. That's not how this works. I am going to invade, conquer and let it be known that SCW has a new Crown Prince. And that's me, naturally.”
***
Once upon a boyhood...
On a typical summer afternoon we see a younger Jonathan Asherson King, the third, playing in a very nice rose garden. Set up on the grass are jars, and in each jar was a different kind of insect. Jonathan studies each jar intently, his eyes glued to the every movement of the invertebrates inside each glass prison.
“Jack!” the shrill voice of a woman has the young boy visibly cringing. An older, stout woman, named Mrs. Whittaker, marches toward him, her greying hair done in tight french braids on either side of her head. Her refined English accent making her sound even more annoying. Half the time, Jack had a hard time understanding her at all. “Whatcha doing out here? You know your mum doesn't like you in her garden.”
Jack, even at the precocious age of nine, was still smarter than the average child his age.
“I do not actually care what my mother likes or does not like. This is the best place to find insects.”
He points to the bottles in front of him.
The nanny shakes her head.
“And what about your allergies?”
Jack rises and wipes his hands on his pant legs.
“Have you not realized that my mother made up these allergies as a way to keep me inside. My parents do not like children seen or heard. I am not going to spend every day inside.”
He picks up the jars and starts letting each insect free before looking back at Mrs. Whittaker with a charming smile.
“Why do you collect those bugs?”
“I like to see what makes them move so I watch. I study and I experiment. And only when I know everything do I let them go. I like to be well informed.”
Jack's use of language always seemed to unnerve the poor woman, like he was Damien from the Omen or something.
“It is how I approach all things in my life. I study them to learn and to be prepared. You cannot claim to be the master of the world if you know nothing about it.”
He brushes by the old maid before turning to look at her.
“Be a dear and bring in those jars, would you.”
He then smiles and continues toward the house.
***
“Even when I was young I knew I was destined for greatness.”
The screen suddenly starts flashing of pictures of presumably Jonathan Asherton King, the third, known professionally as Jack Asher.
“I would spend painstakingly long hours studying the world around me. Knowing every move that my rivals made so that when it came time, I could ultimately destroy them.”
It stops on a still of a young Jack, dressed in a blue & White singlet and headgear, locked up with another boy in what appears to be a gymnasium. It then goes to a pick of Jack on the entrance ramp, his arms raised and a huge smile.
“Being here in SCW hasn't changed who I am or how I operate. This is my first official match as a SCW superstar and who do I get? The aging dinosaur, Joshua Aquin.”
He flips to a photoshop of Joshua's head on a dinosaur body.
“I am not at all upset about having to crush his spirit this sunday. For someone that has been struggling to keep his head above water I can understand why he would be on a high from defeating the infamous Jon Dough, twice.”
He flips quickly through picks of the matches against Jon until he stops again on a picture of the referee holding up Joshua's hand in victory and then another showing his anguish at having had his arm locked up by Kale Smith.
“But honestly, that is like being the smartest kid on the short bus, you know what I mean?”
Jack now appears on camera, meticulously groomed and well dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and dark dress pants.
“He was too concerned about his lacklustre, hot headed partner in BFTP and nearly got his arm broken by Mr. Smith. He has been attacked backstage and his response? Lawyers.”
He gives a curt laugh and smiles.
“Even me, with all my resources would never make such a cowardly move as to sue someone over being attacked.”
He puts a hand to his chest in mock surprise.
“One, it would make me a terrible hypocrite and two... well there is no two. It's just cowardly. You want retribution then you go and get it. In SCW, we are in our own world with its own rules. We signed a contract that so much as says it. I know that this isn't High School wrestling. I am far from an unintelligent man. So you can see, ‘Dino’ why it is time to set your bones up in a museum so others can observe and study what not to do. The purpose of history is to learn from its mistakes and boy, Aquin, you sure do have quite a number of them. But I'll give you credit, you were a tag team champion back in the prehistoric days so at one point you were the man to face. Now you are just, the welcome wagon.”
He offers a shrug of his shoulders to emphasize how unsurprised he was with that revelation.
“And I shall thank you in advance for this welcome. My debut and my first win, what I perceive to be the start of my glorious career. And I will do something you have never been able to do, and that's secure myself as the top talent here and claim the heavyweight title as my intellectual property.”
Behind him is a picture of himself with the SCW Heavyweight belt photoshopped around his waist.
“Don't sweat it though, from what I have learned, there are plenty of names on this roster that are in a similar boat as you. So you won't be lonely at the bottom.”
Again, another cocky smirk from the rookie.
“It must be hard seeing new faces go on to live in mansions and castles while you still toil in the muck of the streets, begging for handouts. Almost makes me want to take pity on you... almost. But sadly, I am a take no prisoners sort of guy. It's cruel to torture people any longer than necessary. So be assured, I will make the death of your career as swift and painless as possible. Consider it a gift for your legacy status here.”
He gives a mocking bow from his waist, rolling his arm in a fake gesture of respect.
“Until we lock up, prepare for me. Maybe, you might just impress me enough to get my respect... but I doubt it.”
The scene fades on his smile.
***
Calia is spending the night at Jack's condo, a beautifully designed space with three bedrooms, a balcony hot tub and an automated security system. Even though Jack had offered to turn one of the spare rooms into a room for Lincoln. A puppy that had grown to the size of a small child and ironically treated like one, the dog was still curled up on his side of the bed with his face between his oversized paws.
Calia is doing a perfect job painting her toes. Jack is amazed that she does such a good job and never spills a single drop on his silk duvet. Jack looks at the dog and he immediately starts wagging his tail while still looking up from between his paws.
Calia smiles, “See... he loves you Jack-ee. He wants you to be his Daddy!”
Jack's lip curls in disgust. The idea of having children at all was distasteful but even more so to be a ‘father’ to an animal was beyond his comprehension.
“I am not an animal person, Cali. You know this. I put up with this hairball for you.”
The dog continues to wag his tail, even though Jack is speaking badly about him.
She stops, looking up at him with her mad face. Jack always found it hilarious and cute but never intimidating.
“His name is Lincoln.” she protests. It still has no effect on Jack's stony gaze.
“He's a dog. He only knows food and pooping on my rug.”
The mess of earlier in the night was part of the reason for his foul mood. He had been the one to discover the mess when he stepped in it. Calia had apologized and tried to clean it but it was no use, it needed to be professionally cleaned.
“He's still a puppy.”
Jack knew that the dog needed obedience training and right away signed her and the dog up for classes. Her guilt had obliged her to agree.
“Even children to not poop on rugs Calia. Train him or he will spend his nights in a crate.”
“I already said I'd do it, so shut up about it. Look, he's super sorry.”
She leans down, head on top of the golden head.
“Look he's saying, ‘I'm super sorry Daddy... just let me love you.’” she does it in an exaggerated ‘grufffy’ voice, a bad scooby doo impression at best.
Jack tries to resist. He has no problem ignoring the canine but can't ignore the pout of his favourite girl.
“Stop. Just be thankful I didn't banish him to the balcony for the night.”
Satisfied, Calia goes back to polishing her toes.
“So your first official match with SCW. How do you feel?”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Like they are just giving me a win. Have you seen this guy?”
Calia shrugs. “Even if he was good, you'd beat him. I know you would.”
Jack smirked. His partner, the Bonnie to his Clyde, The Rose to his Jack, his Scarlett O'Hara to his Brett Butler...
He leans over to plant a kiss on her head. He didn't know what he'd do without her. His princess.
