[Christian Underwood]

Post all roleplays for this match here.
Limits: 1 roleplay per week, per character, 10,000 limit.

Good luck!

[The Dragon]

Part 1 - Heart of Stone?

I owed more than a few apologies, for the last week, in particular. I owed a lot of apologies, period, but I’d made myself even more unapproachable, became increasingly unbearable to be around, and came across as a right prized prick in the process, like some entitled, prima donna champion. It didn’t make any difference of course. I knew what I had to do, where I had to be, and every single person and thing that “stood in the way” of that found themselves in the firing line, even though I just couldn’t do it. Not yet. The truth was, I was booked in a match, I had contractual responsibilities and if I didn’t want to take those on, I shouldn’t have even signed up for Blast from the Past, let alone gone on all the way to win the championship.

I was lashing out...sure, at people that were just doing their jobs. It was nobody’s fault but my own. That’s how it has always been. It was always in my control. My bad decisions. My bad timing. In a way, it was even comforting, now I had everything back in my own hands, but the need for some kind of closure had been niggling and nagging at me for weeks.

My plan to face my demons once and for all was one whole exhaustive list of ‘I could haves’ as once again I fought to make the right call. I could have slept on it, came up with something better...but I didn’t want to risk getting caught up by people wanting my attention, dragged away, delayed, or get lost in my own head...something I’d done far too much of lately. I could have flown...but then I’d have to get to my cabin in the woods in a small town up in the mountains, a fair drive from any airport, and to say I was ON EDGE was putting it mildly. I hated sitting around in airports even in the best of mental states, I’d have been literally crawling the walls, and a delayed flight might have caused me to get plastered beyond all recognition on Duty Free whiskey, forgetting while I was there in the first place. In reality could have hired a car, since the 4.9l Boss 302 motor in my Mustang averaged around 12 miles-to-the-gallon if I drove sensibly...which I wasn’t going to...but after all it was the car that kind of started it all, and I’d planned on driving through the night, I figured the regular stops would give me time to caffeinate enough to make it through…

...so there I was, sitting through a whole wrestling show, until the Main Event, that I went out and won. Without even stopping to catch my breath, I grabbed my title belt, ran as fast as my legs could carry me to the parking lot, and I drove. I drove through the night and then I drove a bit longer, my body and mind were tired but at the same time I’d never felt more awake. This could be one of the worst experiences of my life but then...I’d gotten so worked up about it for so long, that I actually kind of wanted it to be over.

I knew I was close when my stomach continued to slip deeper and deeper into my shoes, each bump in the road jolting it a little further down, I began to wonder if skiing would ever be the same for me again or if it was just...here...this place, that was going to be the problem. It would have been easier to just bury my head in the sand, pretend it never happened, throw it on the market and let a real estate agent go above-and-beyond to handle the aftermath for me, clean up any evidence, in exchange for a little extra commission their way, maybe. It was a very ‘me’ way of handling a problem. Throw a bunch of money at it until it goes away, as long as I don’t have to face it anymore, or at all. A lot of the time, it worked for me too...but even if I knew the guilt was never really going to go away forever, this was one I needed to get myself in front of. The 400 day club wasn’t going to be mine if something like this was going to rear its ugly head at a moment’s notice.

I was returning to the scene of the crime. Two crimes, in fact, and both of my own making.

As I approached the chalet, the tyres of my old 70s Mustang scrunching as they bounced across the gravel driveway, my heart sank, the evidence was already plain to see, before I even got out and walked inside. One of the front doors hung loosely open at the hinges, exposing the interior to the elements. Living remotely had a plethora of advantages of course, but helpful passers-by who would secure your property for you if they saw, for example, that your door had been booted in, were nowhere to be seen in these parts. It was probably weeks ago since she was taken, and nobody even seemed to realise. I wasn’t surprised, it wasn’t ski season, there wasn’t a soul around, that door could have stayed open for months. Luckily, the snow was still some way off, any damage to the wooden floors wouldn’t be too bad, at least, from rain water. I hadn’t seen anything inside yet. Maybe she saw it coming, that’s why she didn’t open the door, maybe tried to fight them off, or to hide, who knew. Maybe they didn’t even give her the chance, parked far enough away so she wouldn’t hear truck tyres on gravel, kicked the door in without so much as a warning. Would I ever know?

I stepped towards the door, my steps were laboured and heavy. My stomach was back where it belonged, but it felt like I could lose the contents at any second...a mix of bad gas station hot dogs, coffee and Red Bull, a very pleasant mix to come back up. I could feel my knees almost buckle beneath me as my hand reached for the door, my fingers running across the splinters in the wood, almost brilliant white against the deep red staining of the frame. One swift boot, clean, ripped the lock straight off the door, after all this wasn’t the kind of place you really wanted, or needed robust security, or so I thought. That was my first mistake. The property had a back door that led out to the hot tub and patio, which opened and locked with its own key, so I’d probably just have to nail the front door shut with a few scrap pieces of firewood before I left, until I could get back out and replace it. I doubt the local hardware store in the sleepy little town would have had the parts, but it didn’t hurt to check...or did it? Was someone changing a lock in a place like this enough to arouse suspicion? It was the kind of place everyone talked after all, not that it was ever normally a problem. I only came here to ski, and kept myself to myself for the most part. Everyone here was nice enough, and I didn’t mind them knowing my business, what little of it there was. Can’t say I ever noticed, or even considered the loose lips, at least until now…

Fuck.

The first punch in the gut came, my breath catching in my throat as I came to a stop at a fluffy white rug, in front of a fireplace. It was one of the first features of the chalet as you walked in, a place to thaw out after a day on the slope. It was stained a blood-red…

...from the glass of wine that lay where it fell, the contents spilled. She was probably sitting right there, thinking of our first time. I think I suggested it was the perfect place to warm up after  a day out on the slopes, especially with company...except this time she probably wondered if she’d ever hear from me again, if I was ever coming back, if she’d done anything wrong. It was me that was doing wrong. It was me who’d lost my self-control. It was me who’d taken advantage of someone so blatantly vulnerable. Someone I thought I could help, or fix, or who knows what the fuck I was thinking. On the surface it looked selfless, sure, but it could easily have been my white knight act all over again, to try and make myself feel accomplished or something, like I made a difference, that I was an incredible human being. All that was, really? Playing games with someone for my own gain. In the end it turned out we were both pawns in something much bigger than I ever imagined. I sat on the rug, cross-legged. I patted the stain, ran my fingers across, to find it was bone dry, the spot almost crunchy under my fingers. I don’t know why I expected any less, I was WAY late to this party for one. Weeks, probably. My eyes were drawn to the edge, it’d started to curl up, maybe the rug slipping under her feet as she tried to scramble away.

My eyes cast across to the staircase...to the couch, where we...you get the point...to the kitchen counter...where I made breakfast, minds out of the gutter...to the kitchen table, where I thought it was going to break right under us, and was so surprised, even now, that it didn’t. I couldn’t even bring myself to go upstairs just yet, and I’d definitely never lean myself against that staircase again. It’s where I used to stand when I first arrived at the chalet, in the winter months, leaning on the wood with a coffee, warming myself on the fire nearby. Now it was the spot where I’d kissed her until both our lips were sore, I’d longed for her that badly...and now she was gone. Virtually every room, every surface of this place was now washed with a light sheen of guilt, a tinge of sadness, and a splash of regret. All except the pool table, which seemed just a little too cliche at the time...even for us. Once again I was confused. Was it opportunistic, or was it something real? Temptation had been all around me, given my last two career choices, for fifteen years. I spent two thirds of that as a married man. I was a relationship guy, not a hook-ups guy, and fucking like rabbits had only ever been my style once in my lifetime. Here. With her.

I walked through to the kitchen next, natural light washing in from the windows that overlooked the lake, and I worked that thought through in my mind. The outside table and chairs, moved up onto the patio to keep it safe from the elements, looked so mundane compared to what I had planned in my head. Even without knowing the full extent of what Micaela was into, I knew our options were limited. Flights, passenger manifests? Bad idea. I didn’t know if even being seen in public together was sensible, all we needed was some wrestling fan dropping in for a selfie at our table and her picture was out in the public space, associating with me, along with a location tag on where we were. I’d made a plan in my head for the next time I came back here. I’d buy her a stunning new dress, put on my best suit, cook us a three-course meal, dress that table up with nice cloth coverings, candles, a few lamps out on the porch, and bring the restaurant experience to her. We could dance under the stars by the lake, with music from a little Bluetooth speaker or...knowing us...I could tear that dress right off of her, leaving it shredded to ribbons on the bedroom floor, where it looked best of all.

It sounded a lot more like a physical attraction but then...why did I want to come back here so badly?

I went on the hunt for more clues as something else sprung to mind, and eventually plucked up the courage to climb the stairs, my legs like lead as I turned left at the top, and into one of the spare bedrooms. It was still there, the towel thrown over the mirror. Micaela’s face was beaten and bruised from the assault at the hands of the men tracking her, so she put the towel there, so she didn’t have to look at her face. The truth was, bruises or not, she couldn’t see how beautiful she was. She’d blush brick red at any compliment at all, and while that wasn’t something that ever came naturally to me, I’d made a particular point of throwing them in as much as I could, just to watch her face light up. Was it being hunted across the country, physically attacked, a short-term thing that would pass...or was that level of self-doubt long-engrained from an imbalanced, toxic, negative marriage that sent her quite literally running for her life? I never got the time to figure it out.

Did she leave her laptop, her phone? She mentioned that she was communicating with her Dad in secret, could I reach out somehow, let him know? Did her Dad know way more than I did, would he be way more useful than I ever would be? The thoughts rushed through my mind, disjointed, I’d have to go searching...maybe her laptop was still on the couch where she usually left it. If it wasn’t there I could search later but for now I needed caffeine. The coffee machine in the cabin, while it paled in comparison to my rig back in Miami, could still make a better brew than any barista this side of the Atlantic...but I had one more thing to check...and one more memory to subject myself to if it was still there.

The cold of the early morning began to bite at me as I slid open the door of the garage. I felt the cold at the best of times, I was due to 90 degree heat 90 percent humidity back in Miami and since I was beyond exhausted, that didn’t help. I adjusted the coat around my shoulders as I peered inside. The garage was where I restored the motor on my Mustang when I was resting my knee after my first attempt at the World title. It was my way of killing the 12 weeks while still being productive. The bodywork was shot, the paint a mix of rust and primer grey, I left that to an expert at the garage in town, but as the car making it up here proved, my handiwork hadn’t been too bad, and I was grateful for the distraction, but that wasn’t what I was looking for...

This time it was still filled with what I put in here last. Micaela’s RV. Intact. All four tyres, unslashed. Everything in its proper place. I scooped the keys from the hook, opened the back, hopped myself inside, and found the light. Everything exactly in its place, where she left it, where she thought, and hoped, that she’d never need it again. I fired up the Keurig coffee machine, one more cup, like the way she made it for me on that first night...as once again I got a reminder of how, when it came to memories, I put so much stock into stuff...and things. Something I could look at, hold, even long after the moment had passed. I poured the black liquid into the same mug I’d drank from, wrapped my hands around it, and thought about what I’d type, if I found that laptop.

Less than an hour later, after a coffee break to compose myself, I found it, tucked away in a drawer. I powered it up, perched on the bed, hurriedly tapped out my badly rehearsed lines, and hoped more than anything it’d reach its intended destination, and that maybe it would help...

Dear Sir,

I’m sorry this email will be more direct than you’re normally used to, I didn’t know your daughter long enough to understand the anonymous email system you guys had. I’m afraid to say that the people looking for Micaela have found her, and they’ve taken her. I don’t know where.

Most unfortunately of all, this never would have happened if she hadn’t run into me. It’s all my fault, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I met your daughter at the roadside, when I pulled over to take a phone call. I hadn’t even noticed her RV to begin with and potentially, I would have just gotten back in my car and driven off after my call...but before I knew it, there was her torch shining in my face, and I became part of her escape plan. After she stopped threatening to cave my skull in with a baseball bat, and realised that Caleb hadn’t sent me, she told me her story. She was sitting in front of me, making us both coffee, with bruises black as night on her legs and ribs, her face marked up much the same, and I felt compelled to help. See...the reason I was there in the first place? I was going out on a drive to clear my head, to spend a few days away. I have a ski chalet up in the mountains, no other properties around for a good mile or so...and since it was out-of-season, the perfect place to avoid all other human beings...for Micaela to go off-the-grid, to stay in one place for a while, unnoticed, with hot running water, with electricity, where nobody would ever know where she was…

...but they did find her. Found me actually...I’m not sure how, phone records I guess, it can’t have been anything else. We used burner phones to communicate, after we’d gotten to the chalet...but there was that first time, when we called each other to chat on that 45 minute or so drive, and I guess that pointed them to me. Sloppy, on my part, but I didn’t really know what I was dealing with until it was too late. Someone came after me in Japan, while I was training for a match. He was unarmed, I roughed him up, sent him packing, told him to bring some firepower next time and didn’t think much more of it. I guess he took me up on it after all. I was in a hotel in Vegas when the door exploded open, two guns pointed at my head, demanding I write down the address of where she was hiding. That was the first time I realised just how deep Micaela’s situation really was.

I did it, of course. Wrote it down on that fancy hotel stationary, gave her up like she meant nothing to me, no warning. I was scared they’d come back for me, my family, my friends...if they turned up there to find she was already gone. The truth was I felt like I had too much to lose. I didn’t know your daughter long, but she deserved someone who would give their life to potentially save hers...I wasn’t that guy. Writing this now, I truly wish I was.

I don’t know why it feels important to tell you...but she did mean something to me. I told Micaela I loved her, even though I’d only known her a few days. After such a short space of time, especially in such a highly charged situation, it was probably too soon, and I guess I’ll never really know what we had, but I do know she will always hold a piece or two of my heart. I think I want you to know that I didn’t give her up lightly, I just couldn’t see any other way. I feel like I need to explain...why, to make myself feel better or something? Probably. Maybe hoping for some reassurance that there was nothing I could have done, there was too much to lose, I don’t know. That sounds selfish...but then again that sounds like me. Sometimes there is no right or wrong answer. There is just...the choice.

If you research my name, you’ll see I’m a professional wrestler, a World champion. In my sport, I’m maybe ten years past the point where we’re considered old, I’m more than a little past my best in theory, and yet there I am, putting in some of the best performances I ever have. It’s opened new doors for me, in acting, and it’s also put me very much front and centre, in the spotlight, along with the people I’m associated with. My friends...family...colleagues...you, and your family, all potentially in the crosshairs...all because of me. Putting a bullet between my eyes, it’s not like cutting the head off the snake, it wouldn’t have stopped there. Chances are more and more people would have been put in the firing line. Someone could have just given them a list of all my properties, or drove up here themselves, found Micaela and dragged her kicking and screaming to her ex-husband off their own back. It never would have stopped at me.

Then again...part of me, even now, tells me I should have taken one for the team anyway, maybe it would have given her the chance to get away. Maybe that was all that ever should have mattered. See, there’s this thing Micaela did that’ll stick with me forever. When she first got to the chalet...there was this mirror, in one of the bedrooms. She threw something over it, covered it up, because she didn’t want to look at her own face, after what they did to her. Honestly, if I could have laid my hands on the person responsible...I’d just love to put my hands around their throat and squeeze until something snapped, or until they took their last breath, whatever came first...I don’t see how anyone could touch her beautiful face like that, the same one that blushed a deep crimson whenever I complimented her and she really was...is...beautiful. I wonder how long it’d been since she’d heard kind words like that. Probably from you. I got the impression you were always kind to her, even if her Mom and her husband couldn’t do the same.

I just want you to know, if I can be of any assistance to you in getting her back, get in contact with the office at Sin City Wrestling in Las Vegas, NV and they’ll give you my details. I doubt I can give you any more information that’ll be useful, but if you think it’ll help, or I can contribute financially, I’ll do all I can. I didn’t realise the scope of what I was getting myself into...but it doesn’t make any of this OK. It’s far from OK, and I hope by some miracle you can find a way to put it right.

Micaela left something of hers here that was important for her escape. If she ever needs it again, it will be here, right where she left it. I will have someone I trust ensure it stays in full working order, just in case. I really wish I could sell this place...but I figure if I could do one last thing for her, this might be it.

I’m sorry she ran into me, and not the hero she deserved. I’m sorry I didn’t keep her safe. I’m sorry I wasn’t worthy of her.

Good luck.

Mark “The Dragon” Cross

With a shaking index finger, I pressed send, snapping the laptop shut. I wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep right then and there, awash with exhaustion and overcome with emotion, but I couldn’t, not in here, not in this place. My steps were slow, clumsy as I ambled down the stairs, it was like my body no longer cared if I got down them safely or not, stumbling back out into the night and towards the garage.

I let myself back into the RV, collapsing on the bunk, pulling the blankets around me as I looked for something...anything of hers…finding nothing, other than the baseball bat she’d left in the corner, the same one aimed at my face. I reached out, scooped it up, slipped it under the blankets, brought it into my chest. I wrapped my arms around it, squeezed it tightly...and I cried. I cried so hard that anyone nearby might have mistaken me for a wolf in pain. I cried until my chest ached and my eyes burned, until I drifted off into a caffeine-fuelled, restless sleep.

It could have been anyone I ever loved or cared about...

...or it could have just been me. And Micaela could have slipped away.

Maybe the death of one minor celebrity would have been enough heat, maybe time to let it go, to call it quits. That was unlikely. I’d probably never know for sure if I made the right call. All I knew is that the choice I made had shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces...and now I had to find a way to make that okay. I was still here. I had to keep on living. Maybe if nothing else...that was the last thing left for me to do.



Part 2 - Swing for the Fences

The scene opens to an indoor batting cage facility. Mark “The Dragon” Cross can be seen inside, the only man up at the plate, taking hard cuts at every ball that comes his way.

*CRACK*

That one was smoked, he thought to himself as he crushed it to the opposite field.

For a split second the scene cuts away, a fist connects with a cheek.

*CRACK*

Foul, down the left-field line

*CRACK*

That would have taken the pitcher’s head off if he wasn’t fast enough

A sudden cut, a boot connects with a slender rib cage.

*CRACK*

A little roll-me-over to the shortstop.

*TINGGGG*

All swing, no ding, he was definitely trying to smack the cover off that one as the ball clatters into the metal fence behind.

The Dragon: FUCK!

Again another cut, Mark’s cry of frustration is matched in stereo by the guttural scream of an unknown female voice.

Gemma: Dragon?

*CRACK*

Ripped it.

The Dragon: Get outta here ball!

Gemma: DRAGON! Snap out of it!

At the sudden shout from behind him, Mark snaps himself ‘out of the zone’ and twists the controls next to him, cutting the machine.

The Dragon: Oh...hey Gemma. Sorry I was miles away.

With the machine switched off in Mark’s bay, Gemma feels confident enough to walk in through the gate and join him.

Gemma: So listen...I was thinking we’d just talk, I’ll throw a few questions at you, get into the head of the champ a little bit, that kind of thing.

The Dragon: Fine by me.

Gemma: You said you’d explain everything last week...So what’s going on with you?

The Dragon: I fell in love…or at least...I think I did...

Gemma: With Amber, right? I know. I’ve met her. She’s good for you, keeps you in line.

The Dragon: Not...Amber...falling in love with her happened over a year ago...it’d be way easier if it was her wasn’t it?

Gemma: Oh shit.

The Dragon: Yeah. I met someone. She was on the run from her ex-husband, after the divorce she’d gotten half his money and just bailed. He was very senior within the police, from what I gather, which is why going to them about any of this seemed like a fruitless exercise, probably would have made it worse if anything, or gotten shut down before it went too far. By the time I found her, one of his guys had tracked her down, roughed her up pretty badly, but she got away at least. That was something. This bat was what she threatened me with...before I came across as trustworthy enough I guess. Her ex-husband came after me with guns, so I gave her up, told them where to find her. Want a couple of swings?

Gemma: On that bombshell? I mean...sure…

Mark holds the bat out for Gemma, which she takes, giving him a sideways glance as she watches how he holds it, outstretched in both hands, like he was offering a ceremonial sword, not a bat.

The Dragon: Now be careful with that Gemma, it’s a sentimental bat now.

Gemma: Why are you using it in a batting cage then?

The Dragon: Thought it’d make me feel better, holding it in my hands. Can’t exactly cuddle it to sleep every night can I?

Gemma: Every night? You mean you’ve done that once?

The Dragon: Twice…

Gemma: Dude what the fuck...

Mark moves through the door to the outside as Gemma starts the machine, setting it on a slow speed. She blocks a couple of the balls back, making contact with each, albeit not very convincingly, before getting bored and turning off the machine. After all, she was here to do a job, not hit balls.

Gemma: I’m gonna stop, figure you’d start crying on me if I broke this damn thing…

The Dragon: No comment. Next?

Gemma: Does Amber know?

The Dragon: Of course she knows. I had to tell her. She wanted to know why I had a gun pointed at my head, since that’s not the kind of thing you can get away with keeping to yourself. Wouldn’t have blamed her for pushing me and pushing me for the info either, that’s not the sort of thing you can let lie. She, out of anyone, deserves to know what she’s getting herself into with me. We’re public enough that she probably would have been the next target. Anyway, she packed her bags and went back home to NYC for a little while, only came back just before my match with Goth.

Gemma: Think you two can get through this?

The Dragon: I...don’t know honestly. One thing about Amber and I? We’re not always the best communicators. Our relationship can be pretty volatile at times and you know what, it’s just because we don’t talk to each other properly, or at all, just react, let our emotions take over. It isn’t perfect, it never has been, neither of us are completely free of blame although...what I’ve done far outweighs any of her crimes if you can call them that. I don’t want to lose her, although I wouldn’t blame her if she gave up on me after all this.

Gemma: Surely communication is key though right?

The Dragon: You know what I’ve said a lot in the past, about wrestling more than anything else, actions speak louder than words? Sometimes...when we just can’t get on the same page...I just scoop her up in my arms, bury my face in her hair and just hold her...we don’t have to say anything, we just know the connection’s there, that we have something worth saving, worth fighting for. It’s so tough to explain unless you’re there experiencing it.

Gemma: You were married once, right?

The Dragon: Yup - Over 10 years.

Gemma: Ever cheat on her?

The Dragon: Not once. Drugs, alcohol, girls on tap, life on the road? NFL into pro wrestling, not a single mis-step. It’s not really been my style...until that one time when it was…

Gemma: So is Amber not the one then? Or was this girl...what was her name again?

The Dragon: Micaela.

Gemma: Or was Micaela something special?

The Dragon: See that I think is the toughest question of all. I can count the number of meaningful relationships I’ve had in my lifetime on two hands, with some digits to spare. Every single one has had...something...that sets them apart, makes them unique. I haven’t wanted to tear every one of their clothes off whenever I saw them. They haven’t all lit up the room every time they walked into it. I haven’t wanted to smash in the face of every person that wronged them. They haven’t all, at times, been cold to me...made me want to work extra hard to stay on their good side. I haven’t been able to hold every one of them close and just know it was going to be OK. They were all special, in their own ways. They all stole a piece of my heart, somehow.  With Micaela it just kind of...all happened at once. I ran into someone who just badly needed my help. It was just really strange timing all around. I feel like...maybe I’m paranoid...but we could just as easily have been using each other, I was her way out of a hellish situation, and she was a chance for the physical contact I didn’t know I was craving. It could have been us both scratching an itch, or it could have been just as real as the others.

Gemma: Physical contact? She was tearing her clothes off as soon as she walked in the room girl, huh?

The Dragon: Uh-huh.

Gemma: I mean I’m not surprised you wanted to help someone in need though. You’ve always seemed pretty generous…

The Dragon: I can be generous with my time...generous with my money...but emotionally? Eh.

Gemma: You know the names of everyone’s kids on the backstage crew, the guys talk about it sometimes. They think you’re a bit of a douche, sure, but they feel valued every time they interact with you too.

The Dragon: No ring, no show right? Yeah I get that, but do you think I’m going to put my arm around them, give them a little boost and some sound advice when they’re having it rough? Or am I more likely to throw money at the problem, tell them to get their kid something nice? Remembering a name, helping carry a ring post here and there, slamming a beer or two with the crew at the end of a show...no skin off my nose…

Gemma: But it makes you look like a hero, right?

The Dragon: Exactly. Now you’re starting to figure out the real me.

Gemma: Do you think you’re narcissistic?

The Dragon: Straight to the point, huh?

Gemma: He says, deflecting.

The Dragon: Political answer...you don’t become a champion in this sport unless you are. Honest answer...of course I am. The act of entitlement, like I deserve to be here? The fact I’ve repeated every move I’ve ever used hundreds, probably thousands of times in training? No empathy, minimal emotional bandwidth, would rather go it alone than ever ask for help, lashing out and blaming everyone else for keeping me here rather than on me...for losing all of my self-control and falling in love with a wanted woman. Of course I am. You have a checklist of 15 traits, I’m ticking at least 10.

Gemma: Does that help you?

The Dragon: It helps me become a better wrestler, a better winner. Doesn’t make me a better human. My inner circle? They’re people that see enough good in me that they can kind of overlook the bad. Plus...it’s people like that that make me want to be better, for them, like I owe them something. They give me a reason not to be a stubborn, selfish prick all my life. I could push everyone away, live a perfectly happy life on my own and die alone, and be content...but trying to change, trying to be better, even though it’s bloody hard work a lot of the time? Might lead to me leading a happier life, with someone that warms my heart, be more of a positive influence and...kind of selfishly, typical me, leaving an even better legacy. The older I get, the better I am at managing my bad traits, generally...but it is management. There isn’t a cure.

Gemma: OK how about this...does wrestling help you?

The Dragon: It doesn’t make it worse. Look...I struggle to sit still for more than about five minutes when I’m at home. I’m like a little kid, it must drive Amber crazy. Wrestling gives me a purpose but If I didn’t have wrestling, there’d be something else. Golf...guitar...stamp collecting...something stupid like that...or Twitch streaming...or starting a blog, writing reviews on every restaurant in Miami...I’d make myself obsessed with something else. The passion, the hunger and the drive would just get channeled...it’d probably turn into a successful venture, sure. I...just...don’t see me jumping into something, enjoying the ride, not caring if I win or I lose. Not after a while anyway.

Gemma: Not after a while?

The Dragon: I wasn’t much of a golfer honestly. I’m still not, my handicap’s over 16, I just don’t have the time to really commit...but it’s kind of turning into my next thing. When I get downtime between shows I’m watching coaching videos, club reviews, scouring eBay for new clubs, new equipment, things that might help me play better, or at least look like I know what I’m doing while I smash another drive into the trees. When I first started out I knew I was going to be awful, I just didn’t care...but now I’m at a level where I can put solid rounds together? The quest is on to keep driving that handicap down. I will always get obsessive...with hobbies...with professions...with relationships...with people. It’s when, not if.

Gemma: So back to wrestling then - Think you can pull off this 400 day thing?

The Dragon: Absolutely.

Gemma: Why?

The Dragon: Who’s going to dethrone me? You can count the number of people who’ve beaten me one-on-one on a single hand. Ben Jordan, Fenris, Griffin Hawkins, Goth. Two not even currently under contract, one far from the dominance that his name used to convey and one, on the comeback trail after years out of the ring, who will never get to face me distracted again. All four of those men stood where I stand now, top of the pile, World Heavyweight champion. In those matches, we all had the pedigree to be here where I am now, and to stay here. 400 days is tough, but 400 days is not impossible, and I figure any one of those five names, potentially, could have achieved it at the times when they were putting out their very best work, if they put their mind to it. The difference is I’m putting my mind to it.

Gemma: That doesn’t really answer the q-

The Dragon: If the Climax Control just gone proves anything, I don’t have to be at my best to win every match I go into, I can still come away with the result regardless of the distractions, although it’s not optimal. If last week AND Blast from the Past proves...since I’ve lost more than four times in total...that even with multiple bodies flying around in the ring, I can make sure I’m the man to get it done. All three times, in three big matches, with a prize on the line, it’s me dealing the killer blow. It’s me getting 1...2...3. My single biggest threat to this title? Multiple opponents. The fact that my fate as champion could be taken entirely out of my hands. It could be argued that really? A title of such magnitude shouldn’t be settled with any method other than two warriors going into battle but yet, if I’m going for 400 days? They’re going to run out of bodies to throw at me one-on-one. Bodies that I won’t torch, nom on, and spit out the bones anyway, like my namesake the dragon would do, if a mere mortal wandered too far into their lair.

Gemma: So the thing you fear the most is more than one opponent?

The Dragon: I think so. My style lends itself quite well to that kind of situation, I only need a couple of moves to completely put a contest beyond doubt, in theory I can snap my fingers and create that chance to win, especially when the match rolls on a while, people get tired, sloppy, desperate...but by the same token you can look through the title history of this company. Lots of names who maybe fluke one defence, or don’t defend at all. Guys who don’t have to be good enough, they just have to be opportunistic, get themselves a title match with three other guys, let the others do the heavy-lifting, swoop in right at the end and steal a cheap pin, or bounce up the ladder when everyone else is wiped out, you name it. Get my record title reign snatched away by someone I’d flatten and fold if it was just him and me? That’s a cheap way to go. Rematch clause, sure, I can get it back...but the clock resets.

Gemma: The rumors say you’re done here when you lose the title. True? Even if you get your rematch?

The Dragon: True. Someone scams it out of me, scores a cheap win? They can have it. I’ll leave it to someone else to expose them as the fraud they are. I love this company, I love the people, I love the atmosphere, I love the after parties at the Golden Ring...and the management team are some of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with...but I don’t love Las Vegas. I love Florida, and for the last couple of years, virtually every Friday to Monday I spend it here, even when I’m not booked. I’m not quitting the sport, and I’m not saying I won’t be back...but for the time being? I want to do my work in a place where I can stay home. I was born and raised in Canterbury, England...but Miami Florida is my city...and I seem to spend most of my time there in the airport. I hope it isn’t for a year or more, I hope I achieve what I’m setting out to do...but regardless of when it comes to an end, I’m drawing that line in the sand. No exceptions.

Gemma: Well...I think that’s all we have time for in part one of this interview. Hopefully we can catch up again on the boat, get some last minute thoughts.

The Dragon: Sure. Cheers Gem.

Gemma: Don’t...no nicknames…

The scene fades to black.

Part 3 - Freak Weather or Pure Mathematics?

The scene opens to the bedroom of Mark “The Dragon” Cross in Miami, Florida. He is folding and packing the last of a selection of clothes into a small suitcase, along with a brown leather travel washbag, that showed every dent and scar of a bag that had been with him for nearly a decade, a present from his then-wife at the time. From that moment on, it had been a vital piece of his travel kit, and was rarely far from his sie when he went travelling.

He pulls the case shut, a crash of thunder erupts, so loud that it shakes the very windows of the property as he works the zips. Gotta love the bi-polar Florida climate. The sound of heavy rainfall smattering the glass is still present in the background as he turns to address the camera.

Well surprise surprise surprise...one of the most dangerous Bombshell World champions in the history of the company, the single longest reigning Bombshell Internet champion of all time, and a multi-time World champion, not to mention the combined number of Hall of Fame inductions and yet...it’s me scoring that all-important win. I guess there’s concern about me getting a case of overconfidence…

How about, just straight confidence, is that allowed?

And here is your winner - Mark “The Dragon” Cross! That’s not like a lightning strike, it happens way more than once. I’m not going to go over the list again, of names that have tried, multiple times, to take me out, and failed in every single one. It’s more a case of history repeating, and in two straight mixed tag matches, in a Sin City Wrestling ring, I’ve hoisted Mac up onto my shoulder and put him to sleep. One...two...three.

That to me isn’t overconfidence. That’s just seeing the patterns, understanding the formula. See I struggled a lot with maths when I was at school. It was something my Dad spent a lot of hours working with me on during the weekends, going over the concepts again and again until they started to make sense in my mind. As a teenager I didn’t really understand the importance of it...and yet in later life it became one of the most important tools. Budgeting, finance, investing, economics, statistics...all these things that, as time goes on, are being taught less and less in schools and yet, end up being the most essential life skills of all. This isn’t going to be a rant about the quality of education, there are plenty who can do a much better job of that than I...so let’s get to the point.

Mathematics...it’s a language first and foremost and you know what, eventually? It’s like riding a bike. Once you’ve mastered the concepts, you don’t have to re-learn them, they’re not going to change, with the technology, with the times. They’re predictable, they’re reliable, and once you get them down, they’re super easy to understand. You can argue with science, you can debate an opinion, but if the math is sound? No chance. I guess my point is this...in 2021 I’ve faced Mac twice in a Sin City Wrestling ring. Both times...Go 2 Sleep...I win. Is it dull, is it repetitive? You know what, maybe a little...but one thing we can say? It definitely wasn’t a fluke. There’s a pattern emerging and odds are, that pattern is going to continue. It’s not gambling, it’s not random, not a coin flip...it’s an inevitability.

I find it interesting...listening to Mac’s perspective on things. It’s curious as...look...I’ve come across plenty in this business who are way better at climbing in the ring and inflicting damage than they are at the behind the scenes stuff. Zero brains, all brawn kind of guys...former athletes from nations where all they’ve ever known is how to be an athlete, Russia, China, you name it. Just like kids in Brazil live and breathe football, there’s a plethora of Mexicans who breathe Lucha Libre, or Japanese who know nothing other than Puroresu and back in their own countries, hey, great, that’s amazing! That actually flies! Except here...this isn’t soccer...this is much more of a niche market, it’s less about what you can do and way more about who you know, and what you can sell. What I mean is...Mac isn’t one of those guys. He’s far from brainless, He’s done phenomenal things in a ring too, he will do many more, but that’s not the only reason he’s here.

Mac can also sell ice to an eskimo...and as long as he has THAT skillset he practically has a job for life in this business as far as it concerns so I have to ask...why, when it comes to me, is he so poor at it? Why do I get the free pass?

We’ll go back to Blast from the Past, since he brought it up...history isn’t going to repeat itself? It already did. Last Sunday finished in the EXACT same way, right down to the letter. I can’t just swan in with a mediocre partner and take the win...well I had YOUR partner mate, so was she an upgrade, after the pair of you worked your way all the way through to the final, or are you saying she’s mediocre as well? Is that a low blow or am I missing the point here somewhere? I’m so confused. Before that Blast from the Past match, you were saying I’d won titles I’d never helped...it’s like you thought I was one of the Wolfslair, trying every title on for size around here until they decide that maybe being a champion isn’t their bag after all. He isn’t prepared for me, because he hasn’t been preparing for me, from what I can tell? Maybe he’s saving up all his material for this week as...really...we need some.

Maybe I’m intimidating. Maybe the thought of a war of words with me is as scary a prospect as facing me in the ring, and it’s strange since all I’ve ever really been told is how it isn’t really a strength of my game. It’s basically my whole schtick, it’s a fucking good job that Cross guy can wrestle ‘cause he’s USELESS with a microphone in his hand. Maybe not. Maybe I’ve evolved, gotten better over the years or maybe...people just don’t like to hear the truth. I know I change people’s opinions of me, negatively, when they have to face me. I know, at times, they might take serious offence, to the point where I may well owe more than a few apologies if I really think about it...but I won’t be doing that. I won’t ever offer an apology for saying something that, in my own head, I believe to be true. Now I MAY choose to keep it to myself, if we’re not on opposite sides of the ring. I MAY not even know it was a thing, until I start to do my research, really start to pick away at someone and peel away the layers, and either way is it a bit of a dick move to only bring it out at a time when I need it most...but that’s the game. That’s the sport of wrestling. That’s what they let us go in and throw each other around like ragdolls as our closing statements. Don’t have the player, hate the game right?

I know how to play the game. I may act like I don’t, push back against it, rebel...keep myself in the shadows, where I can still get away with doing things my own way for the most part...but there’s a problem. My ability commands that I do more. My prowess means I’m destined for more. I beat everyone until there’s nobody left. Nobody but the best. The champions. The Hall of Famers. The living legends, and you think a single one of them wants any part of me? I’m a wrestler’s worst fucking nightmare. Catch me distracted? Goth got lucky. Catch me underprepared? I know most opponents better than they know myself. Catch me overtrained? I found the winning formula for my training programme years ago, and we’ve just been tweaking ever since. Catch me ready to give you one of your toughest tests all year. Abso-fucking-lutely. Every time I lace up my boots. I’m the wrestling business's most reluctant World champion, I’d guess...but also, quite possibly, one of it’s most capable.

Arrogance? Possibly. Let’s see how well this ages in twelve months, shall we?

So Mac...let me just end by saying this...as long as your attention continues to be elsewhere, the result WILL NOT change. Unless you start to focus on me, learn me, study me, anywhere near the level I have with you, the result WILL NOT change. I will take my victory. I will take your Internet title, and I will take your chance to stand on level footing with your wife.

I don’t really know how much that’d eat you up to be honest, I mean at least you get to share the fancy suites at the Saxon Hotel, the most spacious of cabins on the Princess, at least you get to keep a title belt around the place, even if it isn’t yours...does Amber let you shine it for her? You can live vicariously through her as an absolute worst case but know this - If we do this now, and you don’t take this opportunity, it’ll be months before you get another crack and honestly? I don’t know if that’s enough time to change your fortunes. I think history repeats itself just one more time, and as much as we ALL have to respect everything you’ve done in your career up to this point...this could be a bridge too far.

Just know...I’m back. I’ve dealt with my skeletons in the closet. They won’t be in my case with me when I get on the boat, and they won’t be waiting for me on dry land when we get back. To anyone I’ve wronged, to anyone I’ve told to get fucked in the last few weeks...the drinks are on me, and at Summer XXXtreme it’ll be back to business as usual. I’ve missed you, clear head. Thanks for not deserting me forever. See you guys on the boat!

The scene fades to black.

[Mac]

“If you are faced with a mountain, you have several options.
You can climb it and cross to the other side.
You can go around it.
You can dig under it.
You can fly over it.
You can blow it up.
You can ignore it and pretend it’s not there.
You can turn around and go back the way you came.
Or you can stay on the mountain and make it your home.”
― Vera Nazarian

In over his head.
Unnamed Office Complex - Port Arthur, Texas
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

The day after CC

Sitting in boardrooms was never my idea of a good thing or a good time even. The sun reflecting off the mahogany surface of this oversized table that would be used to seat some twenty or so people didn’t make it any better. This was who Thomas Mixon was though, I knew that long before I arrived at the local headquarters for Mixon Incorporated. I had no idea what he had in mind that he felt necessary to talk to me about. You never could be certain when someone had a beef with your family, what you might be setting yourself up for. Their motivation could be anything from jealousy to past grievances committed by my father or my mother. Hell, maybe it was both. Lord knows I had hurt enough people in my own past to float a battleship around. Not something I was proud of, but that’s who I had been and not who I am now. I sat there drumming my finger on the table top as I waited for him to arrive, seriously missing the smell of cinnamon right about then.

Right now, all I could smell was furniture polish. I’m broken from my contemplation as a short redhead entered the room in a business suit, and now the room smelled of cheap perfume and furniture polish. “Mr. Bane?” she asked in a pleasant way. I looked up for the first time and smiled, “Yes ma’am, that would be me.” I said in an even tone. She nodded a curt nod, “Mr. Mixon will arrive shortly, is there anything I can get for you? Coffee, water, soda?” I returned her curtness with a smile, “No ma’am, I’m fine, but thank you all the same for your hospitality.” A smile threatened to tug at the corners of her mouth but she fought it off like a champ. She didn’t respond, but simply spun on her heel and exited the room.

A few moments later, a man who I imagined was a rather striking fellow in his youth entered the room. His face was heavily lined, likely from years in the sun. Whether that was from work or enjoyment I’m not really sure. He stood probably about the same height as me, and that in itself sent off warning sirens in my head. My own father, I reminded myself, was also of a similar stature. My grandfather was a seven footer himself, so I eased my mind back into place and smiled at the older gentlemen and extended my hand. “Mr. Mixon, it’s good to finally meet you in person.” He gave me an easy going smile in return and we shook hands. If first impressions are anything to go by, his smile made me uneasy. Maybe I watched too much discovery channel as a kid, but it reminded me of a shark. After a long moment of us studying each other like two professional poker players, I flinched first and asked the question. “So, Mr. Mixon you had said you had things you wanted to tell me?”.

There went that easy going smile again. Maybe it was more like an amused wolf than a shark, maybe I’d have time to think about that later. In the meantime, Tom Mixon began to speak. “Please call me Tom.” He said as he started, I nodded and replied, “Of course, and call me Mac, please.” He returned my nod and smiled again. God I hate that smile, it made me want to put my fist through the back of his skull. Doing that however, would not get me the answers I needed, so I waited until he continued.

“I imagine you’ve been wondering why I want to buy your place so badly. Why would I offer such an exorbitant amount of money for it? Would you say that was accurate?” He asked flatly. I returned his tone with a curt nod, “That would be a great place to start.”, I responded with my tone as flat as his. His voice never changed, neither did his facial expression but the set of his eyes did. This man already had a steely gaze but his eyes hardened as he spoke. “I don’t know how much you actually know about me or my past. About my relationship with your family or any of that drama from the past.”, he paused there as I withdrew the envelope from my pocket. I laid it on the table and gave him a sad smile. “I know that you once loved my mother very much. I also know what my father did in order to steal her from you.”, I said finally. He looked at the envelope and the slight bulge in it, where the ring laid inside. He smiled a sad smile, cleared his throat, “There’s much more to the story that you don’t know about Mac.”

Fade

Real Talk.
[On-Camera]

The old saying is that it’s far easier to win a world title than it is to defend it. Of course that’s said by people who’ve never held one.

They’ve no idea what we put ourselves through to get to that match. The sacrifice of time, blood, sweat, tears. I know it’s cliche, but it’s also the truth. The things we will sacrifice to hold that title would stagger the mind of a casual fan. Until you’ve lived this life you can never truly understand. Winning a world title is not easy, defending it is another thing altogether. It is a mountain to climb, but once you’ve reached the top of the mountain, that’s a feeling that we never forget after the first time we’ve held one. Then it becomes an obsession, and when we don’t have one, we have to have it again. We have to get that high from holding the top title in the company we work for. To be called the best that a company has to offer to it’s fans and the world. Holding that title is not an automatic affirmation though is it Mark? There are some people in this world that will never pay you respect for your accomplishments. He’s had many, whether it be singles, tag, mixed tag….

What could I possibly say at this point? Another mixed tag match, another loss. For those who actually know me in this business, they know I don’t make excuses when I fail. I own it. I’m the one that got pinned again in a mixed tag match. This makes the second time, doesn’t it Mark? I do find a certain level of amusement in what follows though. I’ve no idea why you ran out of the building like that after a win, but then again it’s none of my damn business. That’s not the amusing part though. For anyone who still actually reads in this technical age we live in. The writers recapped the match and the upcoming matchup. They said that this still gives no clear advantage to the champion. Really? I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s no shame in being pinned by the world champion but he has no clear advantage going into it?

That’s the amusing part to me. How can anyone actually think that, believe it, and then write it up? He has every advantage in this match. The man has two pinfall victories over me in tag team matches. He has all the momentum in the world going into this match. The man has lost exactly one match in almost two years of competition. You’d think the company would throw this guy a bone, but that’s simply not the case. So although Sin City won’t, I certainly will Mark. You earned my respect long before we stepped into the ring together for the first time. Even when you called into question the number of times or even if I had won world titles with other companies. I get it, there’s a lot of pretenders out there that claim to have been a world champion but never have actually held the titles they claim. I understood why you did it, and the thought of anyone trying to get into my head has always amused me. It’s scary and it’s dark in there, and certainly not for the faint of heart.

The other thing I’ll say is that many people who follow Mark on social media. They seem to have issues with the things that Mark does. I laugh at those people, because they simply have nothing better to do than to be an asshole on twitter. Some of these people are sitting at home right now because they needed a break so they could decide if this business is really what they want to spend their time on. Others are just assholes in general and trying to generate cheap heat because they don’t have a creative bone in their body. When I say that I am not one of those people, I mean it in the most sincere way possible. They and I are not the same. What a person does in their personal life away from the ring is their business. You can say that when they put it out to the public that makes it your business but you’d be wrong. I hope that Mark just keeps on doing what he does, and I’ll keep doing what I do and neither of us will care about the court of public opinion.

Except for the Sin City faithful, their opinion matters and judging by the reactions that Mark gets when he enters the arena, I’d say he’s doin alright. So, that being said, the fans and I think a lot of the champion and the way he conducts himself. His conduct on social media has zero to do with the mountain of work I have ahead of me. I’m certainly no stranger to hard work, I come from a wrestling family but created one firmly embedded in ranching and farming. A very blue collar family to say the least. My boys grew up in a world where bailing hay and feeding animals wasn’t a hobby, it was an everyday way of life. That taught them what hard work was from a very early age. The same as it was for me, I spent my summers bailing hay as a teenager. Back then, that didn’t pay much to be quite honest. My family didn’t come from royalty or even well to do. These are some of the things that molded me into the man I am today.

Mark, I talk about these things not as a way to fill a space in a promotional video but so you’ll know exactly who you’re getting in the ring with. When our match has come to a close, you’ll know that I left every ounce of everything I am in the ring. You will get everything I’ve got in my soul. I would spill every drop of blood I have in my body to win this match, make no mistake about that. I will not however put my integrity or work ethic in question. I am not a by any means necessary competitor anymore. I won’t rob the fans or you of the match that is deserved by two men who have been on a collision course for quite some time. Mark my words, the fans, company and this industry will be rewarded with a match for the ages. This will be the epic clash that we all deserve. Mark deserves it, the company deserves it, I deserve it and the fans damn sure deserve this. This supershow is stacked from top to bottom, every match is a potential show stealer. Hell, some of the matches on this card could be a main event anywhere.


Fade

In over his head part 2
Mixon Incorporated - Port Arthur, Texas
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

“I fell in love with Emily in elementary school” he started to say but his wording drifted off as he stared at the envelope. “May I?” he asked. I nodded, “Of course” I replied and slid the envelope across the tabletop to him. He smiled as he emptied its contents onto the table. He picked up the promise ring he had given my mother so many years ago and he studied it and finally sighed heavily and set it back down. His eyes welled ever so slightly and he brushed the single tear away from the right side of his face. “Here I thought I didn’t have any left for her.”, he stopped and looked at me, “You didn’t come all this way to watch an old man cry.” I smiled as he said it. I returned his smile, “No sir, but you take your time. I’m certainly not going to rush you.” I said politely to him.

The torment was plain as day on his face, obviously, this all brought back many bad memories. I would bet some good ones as well. The pain was there, etched in this old man's face like it was chiseled in granite though. It’s the kind of thing that makes you want to comfort a person for the love lost, that had such a huge impact on their personality. If I hadn’t already had a great dislike for my own father, this added interest to that account and compounded it.

“I know you must have often wondered why your family was treated so harshly.” He said, then holding up the ring he continued, “This is but a small part of it.”. “Your father.”, he pauses, his face starting to darken with anger. “Was a rotten bastard”, I finished the sentence for him. He nodded his head and had more to say, much more I thought to myself. There was something behind his eyes as well, I couldn’t put my finger on it but there was something there. There was that feeling again, like a sailor being in shark infested waters. “There’s a reason he’s not laid to rest on the land that I own. Mom is there and my grandmother but he’ll never rest there.” I added. He nodded and the anger seemed to fade from his face. “That is primarily the reason I want the land, Mac. I want my final resting place to be beside Emily, as it should be.” He added in a soft baritone voice. He picked the ring back up, rubbing it with his thumb as the ring rested against his index finger.

I thought about that, how odd that he would use that as his reason for wanting the land. Surely there must be more to this than that. I lost love fifty years ago? “That’s a very emotional and passionate reason sir. What other reasons might there be aside from that.” I asked him as politely as I could.

Fade

Real Talk Part 2.
[On-Camera]

I mean I could literally go on for hours about the accomplishments of Mark Cross and what a great champion he’s shown to be so far. I have to go back to the tournament though and something he said to and about me. He questioned my accomplishments without really knowing anything about me. So, I’m going to talk about me for a minute, because I think this needs to be done in order to set the record straight. I am an eleven time world champion. I’ve been inducted into five different halls of fame as a professional. What does all of that amount to? Not a fucking thing, because those are past accomplishments. I hope by saying this though that he and everyone else will have a better understanding of who I am as a pro. I take the work I do in the ring very seriously. The work I do outside of it when representing this company, even more so. The last time we met, you said that my past was not relevant. You were wrong then and you are wrong now.

My career has been built around starting at the bottom and through hard work and perseverance rising to the top and holding the top strap. Have I done that in every company? No, but it doesn’t deter me at all. If anything it inspires me to get better and to do better. Much like growing up in this business. You talk about learning it from the inside out. I got to see and learn about who I didn’t want to be in this business from some of the worst bastards this industry has ever produced. The same can be said of learning who I didn’t want to be as a man. I was around grown men who couldn’t control their egos or their libidos. They were all married men, but you couldn’t tell it by the way they conducted themselves. That was also a lesson in integrity, something I try to maintain every day.

The politics; there’s nothing you can really say that’s respectful about that topic. The guys who spent all their time in the owner's office trying to get a title shot that they hadn’t earned. Again, that goes back to having integrity and believing in yourself whether the owners of the company do or not. More recently though, our champion has shown a lack of that. When you look at what he said about the mixed tag match we had. That was just a giant whine-fest wasn’t it. I mean, complaining about your responsibilities as a champion? Really Mr. Cross? Okay, moving on, nothing to see here.

I could say more, but why bother. I mean everyone heard what you had to say about the match itself. The most important thing to take from that though, is that you still won it regardless of the way you or anyone in the match felt about it. My performance in that match was lackluster at best. I’ll admit that, just like my other losses in this company, at the time I just wasn’t focused on the task at hand. I’ve already apologized to my wife for that. She deserved better, especially from me. So, let’s talk about my won-loss record shall we? That was not my first loss in tag team matches obviously. The majority of my losses here in Sin City have come in mixed tag matches. I’ve lost twice to you and once to Ryans, which wasn't really a match at all.

That accounts for three of my five losses in this company. The other two came in one on one matches. I’ve lost to David Shepherd and Fenris who happen to be teaming together for this event. That’s it Mark, those two losses in singles competition. Think about that for a bit.


fade.

In over his head part 3
The Sun Princess Cruise
/Scene Opens\
[Off-camera]

A short time after boarding

The announcement had come over the speakers of the cruise ship as expected, ”Attention all passengers, please report to the promenade deck for orientation. You could almost feel the collective groan pass through the ship as people started making their way to the promenade deck with their life jackets in hand. This was one of the single most monotonous and boring things about going on a cruise. If you didn’t attend, they would escort you from the ship. When I told Amber about this little factoid she seemed very amused as her right eyebrow shot up, “Sounds like the voice of experience.”. I responded to her statement with a laugh, “it came very close to that. I had serious doubts about a commercial cruise liner being able to educate me on safety protocol aboard ship.” It was that damnable pride thing once again that had bitten me in the ass. She smiled and laid a hand on my forearm, “We should probably go down there then.”. I smiled as we made our way down the stairs to the appointed location for our cabin.

We at least pretended to listen and follow the instructions given by the crew. I looked around and some of these fans and wrestlers alike looked like they were seasick already and we hadn't even left the dock. I thought to myself, “Some of these folks are in for a long trip.” It took longer than we’d like but the demonstration was over with and we could go back to whatever we were doing. “I’ll see you back upstairs love”, she said to me as she made her way through the crowd. I made my way to the board that had some of the Sin City Wrestling activities to make sure that the demos or classes if you will had actually made it past the quality assurance people. When they originally asked about that, I told them that the things I was good at might not make for a good and family friendly class. Christian of course balked at that and told me surely there was something I could do. Our management team was big on fan interaction and so I told him, “Fine, I’ll teach a swimming class or something.” His response was a glare, “Or something” he quipped.

I studied the board and found my name and shook my head. I read it out loud, “Two Steppin’ with the Cowboy Mac Bane”. I sighed aloud and chuckled. “Well it’s been a minute but I’m sure I can do that.”. I continued to scan the board, that was all that I was scheduled for today. The schedule for the first full day at sea, “Oh man, that’s gonna bring back some memories.” I said in a voice that even to me sounded far away. “Survival At Sea - A Seminar With A Former United States Navy SeaBee.” Also something I could do easily, it wasn’t the thought of teaching but I had always been uncomfortable at best in these types of settings. I felt more than I heard the mooring lines being disengaged as the ship was beginning to make it’s run for open water. It brought a smile to my face. The sea had always been where I felt most at home, even more so than a wrestling ring. The sea is what brought me peace.

I looked back at the board one last time and realized an important detail I had missed. There were a number of special needs children on this cruise. I remembered Amber saying something about that earlier, they were huge fans of Sin City. Making this even more critical than it was first thought to be. I smiled, remembering my nephew AJ. A very special young man, I don’t talk about my sister Lindsey much, hardly ever really. She’s a recovering drug addict, AJ was a product of that life. Her addiction is what caused him to be born with MR. I loved that boy like he was one of my own. So teaching special needs kids to dance would be an honor. I felt the ship begin to rock ever so slightly and smiled. We were on our way and it felt good to me. Making my way out onto the deck, I leaned against the railing and inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. I embraced everything the sea had to offer.

For four years of my life, she had been my mistress, until I accepted an honorable discharge from the Navy. Then the road and wrestling took her place in part. Never fully though, the times I’ve spent on the beach and in the water for fun, those were great memories too. The best aspect of the ocean for me was what it did to my stress levels. A little time near these briney masses of water just seemed to suck all the negativity out of me. I remember the first time aboard ship, it had an amazing effect on a young sailor.

twenty seven years ago

Fresh out of survival training in Biloxi Mississippi I found myself deployed on the USS Belknap. Many of my shipmates were sick less than twenty minutes into our trip. My Chief grinned at me as I leaned on the railing. “Bane, you’re a natural it would seem.” he said to me as he slapped me on the shoulder. I grinned at his elation that I wasn’t sick like the others, “Yes Chief, I love the ocean!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. He continued to chuckle as more and more of the sailors under his command became sick. “Hey Chief?” I asked as he laughed. “Yes Bane?” he replied. “You’re an evil bastard, did you know that?” I asked him, making sure to smile so he knew I was fucking with him. “You wounded me sir”, he said as he winked at me.

present day

It was then that I wondered how Amber was doing. I started heading up to our suite to check on her.

Fade.

Real Talk Part 3.
[On-Camera]

There was zero shame in losing to Fenris or to David for that matter. Each is a great talent in the ring and each brings a lot to the table. That like most things we like to talk about in this business is in the past. I don’t look past my failures as a competitor, they are important aspects to learning. When I look at the internet championship, it makes me think about how I got here, again in the past but relevant. It started with my first run in the company, I dominated the roulette division. No one, and I mean no one could match the intensity of my bloodlust in that division. I won the title and barely broke a sweat doing it. Sounds disrespectful doesn’t it.

Maybe

Or maybe it’s just a fucking fact. Then I left the company, I didn’t just throw the roulette title in the garbage. I was a pro and handed it back to ownership like I’m supposed to. Even though I had left, I was invited back to participate in Blast From The Past. I had a game partner and we ran through the competition like a hot knife thru butter. Until we faced you and your partner. That’s an important caveat that I want to make sure is there. I want to make sure that the respect is obvious. Even though I had failed in my attempt to get that world title shot, I stuck around, because I felt like there was more for me to do here in Sin City. I was rewarded for my loyalty with a match against O’Malley for the internet title. I’ll say this, that young man has a mouth on him but he’s a fighter. I beat him in a competitive match, a match that I still talk about today because it was a damn fine match. It also set the course for where we are today.

At Summer of XXXTreme everything I’ve worked for, that you’ve worked for is on the line. When I look at the Internet Title, it means so much to me, more than you can possibly imagine. It’s not the top strap in this company, but it’s been abused by some of my predecessors. In my hands it becomes relevant again. The title doesn’t make the man, the man should define what the title means in his or her hands. A title in my hands elevates it, this title, the internet title was passed around. No one could defend it properly. I mean, I took it from O’Malley on his first title defense. Then I defended it against Milo. How it was defended still makes me a bit ill but that will be addressed in time. The bottom line is that I defended it, and I did so with honor, integrity and work ethic.

So, we know that it’s all on the line. Title vs. title in a winner takes all scenarios. What would it mean for me to lose this title to you? I’m sure that’s the question on everyone's mind right now. How would I react without a title on my shoulder. I can say in all honesty, that it would crush me to lose this title to you Mark. It’s not that I don’t respect you or like you. This title represents my crowning achievement in Sin City to date. If I lost that, it would feel like I lost a bit of myself. The reason behind that should be obvious. I’ve invested so much of who I am into this run as Internet Champion. I know you have as well, representing the company as it’s top superstar champion. So, the same question I would pose to you, how would Mark Cross deal with losing the world title to a man he has two pinfall victories over?

I’ll leave that for you to answer champ.

The struggle as I continue to climb this mountain is real y’all. Every day is a battle, a battle worth fighting. To be recognized as one of the elite in Sin City is the game and the goal. I know the game all too well, I’ve been playing it for a long assed time. Is it worth it at the end of the day? I can say without reservation or hesitation that it is. Now I’m sure that the champ is full of confidence about his second pinfall victory over me. I’ve covered my record for all to see and hear. Am I less than confident about my chances against The Dragon?

Nope.

Here’s why.

This ain’t a fucking tag match champ.

All that being said, it would seem we each have a mountain of our own to climb don’t we? Mine is my career long battle with climbing and fighting my way to the top of a company. Doing what I always do, scratching and clawing my way out of obscurity and into the top spot on this roster. Where I belong champ. Obviously I have great respect for you and your accomplishments and none of this should be considered a backhanded compliment at all. You have your own mountain to climb, whether you realize it or not.

That mountain is me.

You know he’s laughing right now at that statement right?

That’s right Mark I said it, you have to prove to the company and the Sin City faithful that you can actually beat me one on one. I have great respect for your abilities Chief, I just don’t like your chances. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about our match and whether you’ve kept it respectful or resorted to your old ways. I hope you decided to do the right thing chief. Otherwise I’m going to treat you like a cunt and make sure you understand that what I say holds true. The things you say to or about me or my family have consequences. Make sure you are willing to pay the price.

[Mac]

“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.

[The Dragon]

Part 1 - A Rude Awakening

Unknown Male 1: I think she’s had enough…

Unknown Female: Please...no…

Unknown Male 2: I’ll tell you when she’s had enough.

Unknown Female: No...no…

The sound of a power tool whirring up can be heard in the background, growing louder as it moves closer to the microphone, the whole scene in pitch darkness.

Unknown Female: CALEB NO!

Mark sits bolt upright in his balcony cabin on the Sun Princess. It was just a dream, he realises, as he runs his hands across his face, rubbing his eyes. They were damp...no...wet, from sweat, or so he thought, until he opened them fully. It wasn't sweat at all, they were stained blood-red, it was thick, dripping off his fingers, he’d just smeared it all over his face before he even realised. It coated his bedsheets as he clawed at the covers, getting himself free, all until he caught his foot in them in his desperation to reach the bathroom, dumping himself to the floor, leaving him scrambling less than gracefully along the ground of the suite, leaving bloody handprints on the carpet tiles as he makes a beeline for the washbasin in the bathroom

He coats the tap crimson as he struggles to turn it on, his breath shallow, almost panicky, the metal slipping under his slick hands, eventually turning enough for him to forcefully shove his hands under the water, scrubbing them together trying to get rid of it once and for all

The Dragon: It’s not coming off...please...please…

He could see it washing away in a swirl of water, but still his hands held the unmistakable red hue…it was like the blood was regenerating itself...like a scene from Macbeth...he starts to scream and cry out in frustration, accidentally smashing his face against the mirror, knocking himself backwards.

Mark sits bolt upright in his balcony cabin on the Sun Princess. That was a dream too, thank fuck. He turns his hands over in front of his face, thankfully clear of all blood, watching them visibly shake in front of him as he tries to take deep breaths, reminding himself it was all a dream, they were all just dreams, he wasn’t going to be totally over this right away...

Unknown Female: Mark...please…

The Dragon: AH FUCK!!

His head snaps to the voice, a slender brunette, almost Scandanavian looking, but with a soft Southern drawl, covered head-to-toe in blood, standing at the doorway to the bathroom, the same one he thought he’d been in moments before, before he’d knocked himself out cold.

Unknown Female: Why did you let them take me?

The Dragon: Nopenopenope…

Unknown Female: Mark...I love you too, don’t leave me…

The Dragon: Aaaaaah!

Mark bolts for the door at a dead run, flinging the cabin door hard shut behind him. The walkway outside of his suite was remarkably full, in both directions, almost comically so since, as champion, he was in one of the more exclusive parts of the boat...and they were virtually all people he knew, from SCW wrestlers, backstage crew, and staff. Not daring to look behind him, he begins trying to push his way through the crowd, finding them very hard to work past, as they almost deliberately try to block his path. In the end he staggers back, bumping chest to chest with one of the biggest guys on the crew.

Ring Tech: You OK Dragon?

The Dragon: Nuh-uh...excuse me…

Ring Tech: You look like you’ve seen a ghost?

The Dragon: Do I?

Unknown Female: Please Mark! Please!

She was gaining on him.

The Dragon: Ah Christ she’s right behind me!

Ring Tech: Who? It’s just you and me man?

The Dragon: This can’t...it must be another...fuck it.

Mark turns to his left, climbs the shiny railing in one step, and leaps, hoping to fall all the way into the vast expanse of ocean below, where either he wakes up, or floats away from this nightmare. He’d joked about landing a top deck moonsault into the water to get the win, now was his chance to see how stupid of an idea that actually was.

The Dragon: Yeet.

Ring Tech: Dragon no!

Mark falls in slow-motion, arms windmilling, staring up at the faces looking down on him...including the blood-soaked brunette, who seemed to be calling his name, her mouth moving, here features showing pure distress, although he heard no sound at all...until he hits a railing at speed, multiple decks below, his spine flattening and folding over it with the sickening sound of cracking, the unmistakable splintering of bone, which plays loud in our ears as we watch, each crack matching the slow motion of the visual, before his body, now limp and lifeless, slips all the way into the sea with a splash...

Mark sits bolt upright in his balcony cabin on the Sun Princess. The bedsheets around him are soaked in sweat.

The Dragon: I’m getting SICK of this shit already…

He checked his hands, found they were clean, ripped the covers clean off as he got out of bed, opened the door to his balcony, poked his head out, checked both sides. He opened his small wardrobe, checked inside for surprises, found none. He went to the bathroom, did the same, went to the sink, splashed himself in the face with cold water a couple of times. It all felt real. He smacked himself in the face.

The Dragon: Ow.

And again, for good measure.

The Dragon: Ow.

Phew. Going to the lodge in the mountains was supposed to help, supposed to stop all this. If anything, it’d made it worse. Now she wasn’t all he thought about...now she was all he was seeing, in a way.

PA Address: Good morning, this is your Captain speaking. We are looking forward to another day of clear skies and good weather this morning aboard the Sun Princess. As always we have a full programme of events to keep you entertained throughout the day, so make sure to get in touch with one of the crew if you want to get signed up. Oh, and for all you wrestling fans, if you want to learn how to eat like a champion, there are just a few spaces left in the cookery class with Sin City Wrestling’s very own World Champion Mark “The Dragon” Cross, starting in the galley in just over an hour’s time.

The Dragon: Well that I could have done without today…

Part 2 - Cooking Up A Storm

The scene opens to the Galley of the Sun Princess. Standing in front of a wooden bench, an induction hob on one end, ingredients set out in front of him at the other, is Mark “The Dragon” Cross, a small crowd waiting patiently out in front, ready to watch the class. Standing alongside him is one of the kitchen crew’s sous chefs ready to assist...or make sure he doesn’t burn the place down and kill them all...

The Dragon: OK so - You want to learn how to cook and eat like a champion huh? Now lesson number one, is understanding calories, and macronutrients. As a professional athlete, I’m in the gym for hours every day, when I’m not travelling to shows, so the amount of calories...which is basically a unit of energy...and the number of macros, so building blocks like protein, fuel for muscles like carbohydrate, healthy fats for heart health...I need to put in way more of all of them than a lot of you guys do on a daily basis. I’m burning more calories, I’m using more of the nutrition for recovery. Getting an understanding of what you need to put in, helps you get the best performance out. Put too much in, your body usually doesn’t waste it or just dump it, but stores it, as body fat. Ever heard that old saying, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips? Yeah that’s what happens if you put more in than your body’s using on a daily basis. If you don’t move it, you ain’t losing it.

Mark reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

The Dragon: Now if you want my recommendation, I’m a firm believer in MyFitnessPal. You can record your meals with the comprehensive library of foods already available at the touch of a button, and the easy-to-use-interface makes it a doddle to plan your meals for the day to get all the nutrients YOU need, tailored to you and your goals. With the premium plan, you get an ad-free experience, access to meal plans and recipes, and get guidance and coaching tailored to you with personalized goals, so you’re always going to be working on a way to give you the best results. As a special thanks to every one of you for attending today, you can get a 30% discount on your first 6 months of subscription with discount code “CROSSY30”

The crowd stares back at him silently. One of them clears their throat.

The Dragon: Why is nobody writing that down? C’mon people, this is a prime discount! Help a guy out here!

Reluctantly, a few take out their phones to either download the app, or pretend to make a note, just so they can move on to the next phase.

The Dragon: That’s better! Now second, equipment. It’s worth investing in your equipment. You know those knives you can get from Home Depot for 100 bucks, like a full set and a block to keep them in? I can do more with one really good, sharp chef’s knife than I could with that whole set...except maybe the bread knife...but you can get a cheap one of those. Now if you want a sword, a set of golf clubs, or something to chop up your scallions in double quick time there’s only one choice to make...Japanese steel all the way. Now THIS!

Mark brandishes a knife from out of his jeans, waving it in the general area of the audience, his free hand resting on the bench in front of him.

Sous Chef: Maybe don’t...wave that around…

The Dragon: Don’t worry it’ll be f-

A sudden jolt of the ship sends the sous chef flying, makes the the crowd bounce into each other as they collectively struggle for grip, and throws Mark forward towards the bench, the knife impaling itself in the wood, landing neatly in between the half-a-centimetre gap in the middle of his outspread first and second fingers. Gingerly easing his hand away, he twists the knife out of the bench, leaving it laying flat for safety.

Sous Chef: I told you not t-

The Dragon: Yup. Yup. Got it. Sorry everyone, bet you’re glad this activity was free now, huh? Let’s just skip to the recipe huh? Now THIS that I’m about to show you is called the Spanish Armada burger. This came about from a little quest I set about to create the ultimate burger and while a lot came close, this has to be my favorite, it’s one I always go back to as a bit of a “cheat” meal on the night before a travel day, for example. Burgers are great, they’re quick to cook up, especially if you make your patties in advance, they’re adaptable, depending on how hungry you are...skipped lunch, throw another patty on there...you can often get away with cooking it all up in one skillet, less clean-up afterwards, and if you need to get somewhere in a pinch, it’s handheld and portable...provided you don’t go overboard on the filling…he says, on a ship’s galley, on a cruise…

An unenthusiastic groan from the crowd ensues.

The Dragon: I didn’t even try for that...sorry guys...but if you want to catch my comedy show later this week, there are A LOT of tickets available. Now ingredients - The big contentious area with this recipe is the bread, a lot of people I’ve shown this to will mix it up and take a different approach, but go with your own preference. It’s not very Spanish, but I tend to opt for the old sesame seed hamburger bun. A lot of people prefer brioche, but it’s already a pretty rich burger, and some say a Hawaaian roll can get close to a more traditional Spanish bread...but they’re a little sweet for my taste. The American classic, for me, keeps out of the way of the rest of the ingredients. We’ll talk about the patties in a minute, but the other things we need are all of Spanish origin - Serrano ham, chorizo, and manchego cheese. Simple.

He lifts each ingredient in turn.

The Dragon: Now...the patty...the star attraction, and again you can mix it up here depending on what you like, or how hungry you are. The original version of the Spanish Armada was a single half pound patty, but you can go with a quarter pounder, maybe double-stack it if you want, or if you’re into your smash burgers, maybe a quad for all that extra crunch. This was the biggest experiment of all, and as long as you keep the ratio, the rest is up to you. One third ground beef, I like 80/20, which gives you the juiciness, two thirds ground pork, which gives you WAY more flavour than going full beef, as much as I’d want it to be all cow ‘cause tradition. Now, I’ve formed the patties by hand…a little bigger than the buns we’re using, as we’ll get some shrinkage...

He turns around, bringing over a steak plate over from behind with two burgers resting on it.

The Dragon: Seasoning is simple: salt, pepper, cumin...I throw it on just before we’re ready to cook. With burgers it’s good to take the meat out maybe an hour before to let them come up to room temperature, it’s less of a shock when they hit the hot skillet, helps you get a good char on the outside and a good even cook throughout. Now season it well, on both sides…

He turns on the mini induction hob next to him, sprinkling a good amount of seasoning onto the burgers as he waits for the pan to warm.

The Dragon: I love cooking with cast iron, it takes longer to heat up sure, but you get a really good even temperature that’s easy to retain heat withl, and a good quality pan will last you a lifetime. Now what we are going to do is a little stacking of flavour, so I’m going to chop up this chorizo into maybe half inch chunks and get those frying away first…

The knife he nearly severed his index finger with a few moments ago makes surprisingly light work of the chorizo as he chops enough for two portions, adding it to the pan.

The Dragon: So cooking chorizo releases this really distinctive bright orange oil, which is really flavourful and if we can inject some of that into our burger too, all the better. Bacon cooks way faster than a patty will in a hot pan too, but if I’m using bacon, I’d rather get it in first so we can cook the burger in some of that incredible fat. You can always pull something, or move it into indirect heat as you go. Now eating large quantities of food seems like a dream, but when it’s every day of your life for years? It can get tedious, and all these little tricks and flavour bombs are a lifesaver. Now when you hear the chorizo start to sizzle, we know the pan’s hot enough and we can drop some burgers!

Dropping the two half-pound slabs of meat in the pan, the hissing sound intensifies, meaning he has to speak up over the noise.

The Dragon: So we want to cook these for roughly four-to-five minutes per side. That should give us a juicy burger that’s not too dry, and not too pink in the middle. Remember if you reduce the amount of meat, reduce the cooking time. I try to flip once, you’ll learn with practice and time how long it takes to build up a good crust on the outside. Those charred parts on the outside of a burger? The official term is the Maillard reaction, but I call it the tasty as fuck reaction, and the more of that we can build up the better.

After a few minutes, he flips the two burgers one-by-one, dragging the metal flipper across the top, making a scratching sound.

The Dragon: So that’s developed a really nice crust to it, which is what we want. Now the chorizo, I don’t want that to overcook or burn, so an easy way is just to pile that on top of the burger now, to keep it out of the indirect heat. Now as we get to the last couple of minutes I’m going to ask my assistant to toast a couple of buns…

The sous chef heads off to another part of the kitchen as Mark tries, and struggles for some time, to balance chunks of chorizo on top of the patties without them falling off. Next he sprinkles grated cheese on top of each. Lastly, in with a few slices of serrano ham

The Dragon: So the ham is super thin, so literally a minute or two to get crispy...and the cheese won’t melt all too well on top, it’s not in direct heat either, so what we’ll do is ‘dome it’ with a bowl or with the pan lid, if you’ve got enough room, with some steam, as the last thing. We don’t want to add water to the skillet for another minute or two, as that’ll kill the tasty as fuck reaction we’re trying to develop on both sides...cheers buddy…

Mark lays the two toasted buns he’s handed out on a serving plate. Retrieving a round metal bowl and a bottle of water, he pours liquid in the pan, generating a waft of steam that he covers with the bowl immediately. After about a minute he removes it, revealing perfectly melted cheese, holding the chorizo in place like a kind of glue. He transfers each to the plate, lays ham on top, crowns each with a top bun, and holds it up triumphantly, to mild applause from the crowd.

The Dragon: Now I don’t use sauce with this, cause I always drop it down my shirt, but ketchup or hot sauce? Both are great choices. Now guys thank you very much for coming out to see me! If you’d all like to start heading through to the dining room, the wonderful staff here have whipped up Spanish Armada burgers and fries for everyone, I’ll mix us up some Lynchburg Lemonades, there’s plenty of free merch to help yourself to...please take as many Fire Dragons 2.0 shirts as you want, I ordered way too many last year...and I’ll be around answering questions and signing autographs for you all!

A collective cheer goes up as the boring part seems to be over, replaced with free food, free booze, free merch, and a chance to hang out with a minor celebrity, which seems to be number one priority. As the crowd begins to disperse, Mark takes a hefty bite of one of the burgers, pieces of chorizo dropping out onto his shirt, leaving very noticeable bright orange splotches at the point of impact.

The Dragon: Ah you mother...fucker!

Part 3 - A Laugh A Minute

So I was walking along in Miami, before coming out here, and this guy spilled his Scrabble set all over the sidewalk...I said what’s the word on the street?

The scene opens to a small entertainment venue aboard the Sun Princess. It isn’t one of the larger spaces aboard, it has the look and feel of an old jazz club or something, complete with the smoke in the air to go with it. Mark “The Dragon” Cross, rocking a suit jacket and white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck is on the mic and judging by the laughter...and much to our surprise, seems to be going over quite well.

It’s crazy with all these advances in technology these days, new things are becoming obsolete all the time. I mean exit signs? They’re on the way out.

Another laugh. The Dragon’s eyes meet the camera as the crew appear in the venue.

How about a couple for the wrestling fans? I don’t know what’s better at going downhill, a tobogganist, or Teddy’s latest name change...and how about this one...Mac Bane walks into a bar...and the bar says OWW who let a mountain in here?!?

And just like that...he lost his audience.

I was gonna laugh out loud at that one huh? Why? Well I guess that joke went over about as well with the crowd. as Mac’s little comment did with me, at least...in terms of making a joke of it. Now I hate to cut the show short to talk about my match on this very boat this coming Sunday, but anyone who came to a comedy show hosted by yours truly must have thought something was up, right? I just needed an excuse to get a captive-ish audience for a few minutes.

Heckler: YOUR JOKES SUCK.

We’re not...doing jokes anymore dude...look never mind...we’re going to come back to a few of these points a little later but any good wrestling match SHOULD be like climbing a mountain, or running a marathon. In time, and in effort. You can’t run out of your corner, hit your finisher, and get the win in seconds...very often. It’s like a good woman, you need to warm it, or her, up first. Generally when you do finish that quickly, the guy that’s paying you to show up that night? He ends up berating you for not at least making some kind of song and dance out of it in the name of entertainment. To be honest, so is your good woman. Easiest, fastest fifty bucks I ever made, and a sure fire way to make sure I never got another call back. Lesson learned the hard way, and yeah that has basically happened to me before. Match over, less than a minute. Look - Maybe I was different gravy compared to that company, to those guys on the roster, maybe I didn’t belong there...I probably outmatched them all, but in this business, eventually, everyone finds their spot. Easy targets have no place in a Sin City ring, challenging for my World Heavyweight title. On occasion, The Troll may answer an open challenge, but that right is usually earned. After all, a lot of people couldn’t climb a mountain. A lot of people couldn’t finish a marathon. A lot of people can only go four minutes or less with a lady. That's why they are great achievements. So few are brave enough to even attempt it. Even less succeed. It’s why I have to leave everything in the ring, every time that belt is on the line, or expect not to come back with it.

And yes, it’s why Mac is my mountain to climb. I’m not laughing because actually? It’s a great analogy. He’s worthy enough to be there, no doubt in my mind. I have to beat him on Sunday, but over these last few weeks I’ve also had to make sure I don’t beat myself, so we’ll come back to my opponent real soon.

A lot of things have bothered me lately, but they shouldn’t. I’ve acted a certain way lately, when I shouldn’t. It’s maybe ironic, that the demons I had to face were in a cabin, up in the mountains, since they’re turning into our main topic of conversation tonight.The fact is for me? I’ve already overcome one obstacle, maybe even the biggest one of all, and I haven’t even stepped in the ring. I’m basically all business all the time. I’m a wrestler first, my life fits around my wrestling, that’s the way it’s virtually always been. You see it’s impossible to complain, to be considered a reluctant champion, when that’s how your brain is wired. Why? Your commitments as champion are part of wrestling. Wrestling is what I do, wrestling is number one, everything else will fit around it. I’d absolutely love to go skiing, every chance I get. My schedule doesn’t allow me to go skiing? I don’t ski that season, it isn’t a problem. Am I jealous when I see pictures of my friends skiing? Of course I am, and then I leave social media, pick up my next set of weights and I carry on. It’s very rare for something else to enter my headspace. It’s very unusual when I NEED to be somewhere else when, 95% of my career, I NEED to be doing something to help with the next match. That is my purpose. That is what gets me out of bed in the morning.

...but I did need to be somewhere. I did need to face some things and you know what? I needed to cry some things out. You will have seen my interview with Gemma, I’m sure. You will have seen what kind of fucking mess I got myself in and you know what? My mental state isn’t exactly perfect yet either, if I could have postponed this match I would, but I can’t. Too many things in motion. Too many people to support and you know what most of all? I’d take a kick to my damn pride too. If I can’t take pride in my professional work well then that becomes a problem. That’s the point I need to think about phoning it in. The fact is I make a lot of mistakes. I make mistakes every day. Some are small, some I can apologise for, make a coffee for, some I can buy flowers for...some, whether it be me, or someone else...there can be no coming back from. It’s hard at times but I don’t let these mistakes define me. They don’t haunt me for very long, if at all, as what is a mistake really? An unintentional error that doesn’t indicate bad faith, at least legally. Mistakes like I made, on that mountain road. Mistakes like I made at that cabin. Mistakes that I feel like I made when I gave her up. I didn’t mean to slip up. I didn’t mean for her to get caught. I didn’t want my feelings to betray me and yet they did. All of it happened, at a time when I need to be focussing on nothing but my World Heavyweight title and you know what? That’s life, and I need to pull up my big boy pants and deal with it. Every mistake has a consequence after all.

Consequences, consequences, consequences. I think we can say I’ve learned quite a lot about consequences over the past few months. We can maybe discount the first couple of years of my career, where my performance didn’t...exactly...warrant my appearance fees a lot of the time, as when it came to the business of wrestling I was definitely what you’d call a late bloomer, but I’ve gotta say, it wasn’t what I expected. I’ve actually found there are very few consequences, since becoming a professional wrestler. At least...not meaningful ones. I thought being a cunt, talking about people’s families would backfire on me way more than it has done but generally? It tends to bring results...victories...tournament wins...title belts. The lot. Now taking every advantage I can to throw an opponent under the bus is kind of my thing...those aren’t mistakes after all. They’re calculated risks. I absolutely have bad faith in my mind, and if that backfires, becomes the reason I lose a match, torch a friendship on the way? I’m definitely not going to pull the oh-woe-is-me act. I do, however, have to nod my head to the level of respect that’s been shown to me thus far and really? For Amber and for Mac, I think they can both be very proud of who they have in their corners, both in wrestling, and in life. Ben and Evie, much the same. I’m sure they have their own little rivalries between themselves, harmless fun, just another little way to try and push each other to kick on, to achieve, to dust each other off when things weren’t going to plan. Two great representatives of this sport, living in the same household, standing top of the tree in their respective divisions...

...and the truth is, I could never quite do it. Not like those guys do. I don’t have that same ability to compartmentalise, to split my energies between my own wrestling achievements and someone else’s, not really. I can either be the best wrestler I can be...the best coach and mentor I could be...or I could absolutely suck at trying to do both at the same time. I’m very much an all-or-nothing kind of guy, I think that’s what put me here. They may be stronger together, but I’m stronger looking after number one.

I believe Mac asked how I’d deal with losing the World title to someone I’ve already pinned twice but let me back up. Let’s cut it short at how I’d deal with losing the World title as after all...like I said...when I do, I’m going home, and I’m staying there. I’ve laid that on the line and you know what? When the day comes, I might listen to the roar of the crowd, and I may be tempted to stay. I might sit down with the people who have been great to me in the office, they may ask me to stick around in some capacity and I might consider it...but my mind's made up. I’ll be true to my word and you know what’ll happen, at least for a while? I won’t have anywhere near as much of a purpose.

I don’t know how long that’ll be. I can’t sign an “I’ll be there eventually” deal with a Florida promotion...I mean I can ask, but that’s not the kind of position I want to find myself in, let alone put another company in, just leave them hanging. For the first time in over a decade I won’t have to wake up at 6am. For the first time I won’t have to kiss that beautiful blonde I wake up to every morning on the head and disappear. I can wrap my arms around her and hold her tight until her alarm goes off, a few hours later, then I can make her breakfast before she heads down to the studio. I can head out the golf course, play 9 holes, or not. I can still get in the gym before any of the students train and work out if I want to, or not. I trust my training staff enough that I could just not go in, if I didn’t want, they cope perfectly well when I’m out in Vegas after all. I literally have no reason to get out of bed in the morning, and that’s scary.

I’m fidgety at the best of times, always want to be busy, always have to be active and being without that? Scares the absolute fuck out of me. I may WANT to be back in Florida more, but I’m living the fucking dream now. I may PREFER to be working in Miami but I’m motivated to be the best damn World Heavyweight champion, not just to the best of my abilities, but to be better than anyone who has ever come before, or will again. I may be LOOKING FORWARD to the next chapter, but there’s no way it won’t make me sick to the stomach knowing I’m turning the page when I still have unfinished business here. I may have a backup plan, but can you blame me? Something to look forward to...after I become the first member of the 400 day club. After another full year or more, of you guys having to put up with me. Another full year, of laying everything on the line, in the gym, and in the ring, to prove I’m worthy, to be prepared to send every single comer packing, and back where they come from. Don’t think because I have my eye on the future I’m not fully committed to the now. After all...the Hall of Fame induction calls are going to dry up at some point Mac...where do you see yourself in ten years, huh?

So how about part two, how do I feel about losing to someone I’ve already pinned twice. I feel like that’s fucking stupid of me, to be honest. Run any match ten times, twenty times, fifty times, the result isn’t always going to be the same. Even in the biggest of mismatches, run it enough times, the underdog will fluke one. It’s just a game of probability after all and you know what, smart guys? Guys who get to our level? We kind of have to know how to do this thing called ADAPT, you know? We have to learn from what I talked about earlier - Mistakes. Last two times, you could write the finish with a piece of tracing paper and I know what you’re probably thinking. I'm looking for the hat-trick, a Go 2 Sleep. Of course I am. Just like I’m looking for Ketteiteki Desaki. Just like I’m looking for a Dragon sleeper. Just like I’m looking for a Shining Wizard and hoping the guy ends up knocked the fuck out right then and there. I’m offense first, always looking to get on the front foot, turn the tide, finish it right then and there. Preparing for me, properly? What does the scouting report look like? You may as well write DANGER in big fucking capital red letters and call it quits right now because unless you can stop me from building one SINGLE shred of offense I’m a risk. I can muster up something. It doesn’t matter who you put in with me. How capable. How many achievements. How many World titles? I WILL do damage. I can be beaten, sure. You have to hit the ground running, that takes momentum. You have to be ready for anything, that takes preparation. You have to be ready to take an assault and get back up, that takes conditioning, and you have to get in range of me to take me out. That takes confidence. Two contests, two wins, two identical finishes? I think that gives me confidence and momentum....so let’s say, for argument’s sake, Mac takes conditioning and preparation, dead heat, next variable, next point,

It’s also not lost on me...that this is a tag match, believe it or not. You know what that means? How many times, when it is a mixed tag match, has it been me getting the win, delivering the killing blow, picking up the one-two-three? I won’t make you look it up, it’s most of the time. See we all know how this works, right? Tag match, battle royale, you name it, there’s breathing room. There’s moments you’re on the sidelines, you tag a partner...the guy that rung your bell against the steps a few moments ago...they get dragged off into another fight. You can get air in your lungs, shake those cobwebs away, regroup. Those times when I’m one of your opponents and I’m not on your ass? That’s the moment the DANGER goes away, and you can try and take on someone you can gameplan for...or leave it to your partner, who may have a more favourable matchup. Someone with a weakness. See I don’t care it’s not tag. I don’t care that Mac has to deal with all of me all the time, and I the same with him. I hate sitting on the sidelines. I hate not being the centre of attention, and all that firepower that you’ve only had to deal with in short spurts up until now? You’re getting it with both barrels, all match, unrelenting, nowhere to hide. 

The truth is it doesn’t matter if I refer-to-type or not. A guy wants to kick my head off my shoulders a little bit more because of some comments I made and THAT is the difference between whether they win a World title or not? Fuck that, I’m not buying it. This is two professional match winners, two professional champions. Best man wins, not the angriest man. Not the most riled up man. The best. The most capable. The strongest, the toughest, the best conditioned, the most prepared. The way I am, or the way I’m not? Really it doesn’t matter one single bit. Just like most of the seasoning washes off when you’re cooking a steak, all this build-up, in the days and weeks before a match? That’s not really where the flavour develops. It’s what you’ve done over the long haul, the things you’ve given time to sink in, the things that give you your reputation.

I’m going to end this in a slightly different way for once, I’m going to surprise you all, and maybe this will be the least bravado thing I’ve said since I took the title, maybe even before. Anyone who beats me one-on-one, no matter how low my opinion was of them? They will earn my unrivalled respect until the very end of time. Very few who’ve faced me and not got the ‘dub are on that same level. Mac, for what it’s worth, already has it. He’s one of the very best in active competition in this sport. I do believe the fans deserve for this to be the Main Event. I believe it’ll be the match of the night. Mac could absolutely take me out, we both know he needs his best, and we both know it’d be naive and stupid of me to bring anything but my own. Two men, who believe they have what it takes to win and take all. Two men, who undoubtedly deserve to come out with their hand held aloft. One thing's for certain. This is a match for the fucking ages. I can’t wait to play my part in it.

Part 4 - Real Problems

The scene opens to a quiet part of the Sun Princess, high on the upper decks, where Mark “The Dragon” Cross stands alone at a small viewing area, peering out to sea, when SCU Backstage Interviewer Gemma Frost appears behind him.

Gemma: Sort out your little problem?

The Dragon: Not...as such.

Gemma: Uhh oh.

The Dragon: I mean...yes and no...I feel better but...I saw her. In my dreams. She was in my cabin.

Gemma: Guilt isn’t going to go away overnight, Mark, even if there wasn’t anything else you could do.

The Dragon: What if there was?

Gemma: Well by the sound of it...you’d be dead...along with who knows who else…

The Dragon: Yeah I guess that’s true.

Gemma: You haven’t done anything stupid have you?

The Dragon: What, like gathering up all her clothes and bagging them up and keeping them in my office in the gym? No…

Gemma: Dude.

The Dragon: What? I don’t look at them every day…

Gemma: Oh my god.

The Dragon: I know, I have a problem.

Gemma: No, you have your answer.

The Dragon: Huh?

Gemma: What you had, what you’re going through now, the guilt you’re feeling? Yes it was love. Yes it was real. Giving her up broke your heart.

The Dragon: Maybe. Probably. So...what do I do? Put up with this until it loses me my title?

Gemma: What does everyone do when they get their heart broken? Make themselves busy...except you're the World Heavyweight champion and already are...go out and have fun...except you're on a cruise and you already can...and find one of those plenty other fish in the sea...except you already have someone who loves you, who cares, who stays with you even as you rain down 7 tonnes of your bullshit on them. You're gonna be fine.

The Dragon: Hmm…

Gemma: You’re gonna come out of this and land on your feet aren’t you?

The Dragon: ...I think I might yeah…

Gemma: You annoying motherf-

Gemma turns away, her back to Mark as she tries to get her frustration under control.

The Dragon: C’mon Gemma, let it all out.

Gemma: Sometimes I REALLY wish I could punch you in the face, you know that?

The Dragon: I get that a lot…

Gemma whirls around, taking a few steps closer.

Gemma: You know I actually DEFEND you to people sometimes? You know I go into bat for you on the regular but sometimes it’s like dealing with a child. Hey - What are you doing?

Mark squares himself up to her, shoulders back, chest puffed out, fists clenched.

The Dragon: You get one free shot. I know you want to right now, let it out.

Gemma: Mark, c’mon…

The Dragon: I literally get paid to do this, just hit me.

Gemma: I...it’s fine…

The Dragon: Go ahead and lay one on your STILL World Heavyweight champion, the MASTER of Japanese Strong Style, the SINGLE greatest wrestler on BOTH sides of the Atl-

Mark finds himself interrupted by a fist that connects square with his jaw, snapping his neck back, way more than he would have liked. Checking his head was still attached, he rubbed at his now aching jaw.

The Dragon: Oh wow that actually hurt…

Gemma: You good?

The Dragon: Yeah I’m good...I just didn’t expect to even feel it ya know…Gemma you’ve got a SWING on you girl!

Gemma huffs loudly, turns and begins to storm away, her footsteps clanking on the metal deck.

The Dragon: Hey you’re leaving? Okay bye! You’re still my favourite Gemma!

Gemma: Fuck you!

The scene fades to black.