[Christian Underwood]

Post your roleplays here by deadline. Good luck and have fun!

[Mac]

Vs Jack Washington

“Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke.” - Benjamin Disraeli

{soft intro}

[on-camera]

Since losing the title, as much as I’ve loved being World Champion, I’ve not really missed carrying that anchor around. It’s allowed me to focus on home and life's crucial things, like supporting my wife. She’s got far more on her right now than probably any time in her life. I’ve still accepted bookings for SCW and other places that would keep me as close to home as possible. So then, what lead to this match? Simple, Jack was out there crying like a bitch, that’s what led to it.

Fucking cry baby.

{Near Vivian’s Apartment - “Shadow Games”}

[off-camera]

First and foremost, I couldn’t believe I was out here at this time of night based on intel from a Teddy Bear network. The more important aspect of this however is that I’ve never seen Angel’s team be wrong. Glad I didn’t say that out loud, someone would be fitting me for a straight jacket. Of course, being close to my 47th birthday and still fighting for a living could be the end sequence for me anyway. enough inner monologue Mac, time to focus on the task at hand. I thought to myself as I stood near the mouth of the alley. I stayed perfectly still and squatted down to give myself a smaller profile in the dim light tonight. At least I had a visual on this guy, since he stood only a few meters from me. He stood near Vivian’s black Oldsmobile sedan. I knew it was him, only because when he turned slightly the moonlight hit his mask. Even with the darkened silhouette, there was no mistaking what it was. Belle had told Angel that Vivian should beware of the man in the iron mask. I didn’t think it was iron, a synthetic metal perhaps. I stayed squatted down, watching and listening. Glad I did too as a figure walked right past me and into the street where the other man waited. The man who had walked past me as I crouched asked the man in the mask, “When?” The man in the mask let the question hang there unanswered for a moment.

“Soon, but not tonight,” He stated flatly in a soft baritone voice. I exhaled softly and slowly, my sigh of relief was not audible to them unless one of them was an elf. They never moved or flinched, I stayed still regardless to keep my presence hidden from them. Finally, the masked man made a statement, “Our work here tonight is done, I’ve got everything I needed from this ridiculous stalking exercise.” I could see the shadow of the other man nod in response, “I know, but this is how the old man wanted it.” Without missing a beat the reply came in sharp, “Trust but verify, I know the process.” The other man paused for a moment, “Yes sir,” was finally his reply. The two men separated and went their separate ways. I stayed put, waiting until I heard the ignitions of two separate vehicles start, and then saw them drive off toward the east. I stood up slowly and waited for shouts from anyone left behind and there were none. I switched my headset on, “tracking?” I whispered into the microphone. “Affirmative,” came my son Jimmy’s voice back into the headset.

I took slow steps back toward the mouth of the alley, I saw the signal from Vivian’s husband with the flashlight. Three times the flashlight signaled in quick succession. “Got the all clear from the den.” I could hear a sigh of relief from James as he continued his work. “Vehicles are not registered, and the license plates are likely stolen,” I smirked as I made my way across the street. “Not surprised, I’d have been surprised if it was anything else.” A snort from the earpiece was my son’s reply. There was little doubt that when he tracked down the owner of the license plates, they would be people reported missing or deceased in the recent past. He confirmed that in short order, “Yes, both license plate owners died within three days of each other.” I leaned up against the side of the building as I took the watchman’s cap off and stuffed it in my pocket. I lit a cigarette and acknowledged the policeman that was on his rounds. He glanced towards the alley first and then back at me. He nodded back to me and then stopped. “You live in this building?” He asked the question in a firm but polite voice. “No sir, just visiting a friend and stepping out to have a smoke.” He stepped forward where I could see his face. The note from belle was that they worked in sets of three, this man had a jagged scar that ran near his right ear, down his jawline.

“Do you often wear black BTUs to visit friends?” I smirked at him, “only on nights that it suits me, Officer.” I hear softly in my earpiece, “Not a cop”, and I smiled at the man who was pretending to be law enforcement. “You’re a funny guy,” he said to me as he reached for his nightstick. “Maybe you and I need to go downtown and have a little talk, they like funny guys down there.” I laughed again and shook my head, “Are you so very willing to break protocol? Are you willing to commit a felony on top of that?” I pressed my hand to my chest, near my heart. “You wound me, sir, insinuating that I am a man of low integrity, that would step afoul of the law.” I could hear James laughing in my ear, “You’re killing me, old man.” he said extremely low. I wasn’t sure if this imposter could hear him, he wasn’t reacting to the voice of my son. I glanced at the name tag, “Officer Daniels, were you ever in the military?” He nodded and accepted the offered cigarette, I also lit it for him and he took a long drag. “Yeah, look thanks for the smoke, I need to continue my rounds so I can report in.” I nodded to him, his change of mood was rather abrupt. That’s when I saw the cord of the earpiece. “James?” I asked into the microphone. “On it,” he said in a quick reply.

I glanced across the street and could see Belle in the window, I could have sworn she waved and winked at me. “I must be starting to see things,” I mumbled and yawned. I took another drag from my cigarette as Grey Castle, Vivian’s husband made an appearance at the door. My earpiece came to life, “He stopped not far from me, he was waiting for someone or something. Officer Daniels died just a couple of days ago. He was ambushed.” I shook my head in disgust. Grey, “Everything okay, Mac?” I shook my head indicating no, “No sir, I think we should consider moving you and Viv.” My comment seemed to stun him into silence at first, “Go back up and use the lockdown protocol as we discussed. He nodded and hit the stairs running. Grey was a good man, another former soldier. Grey had been a marine infantryman and Viv married him anyway, was the joke we used to tell. “Dad, he just entered a gray van,” came my son’s update. “On my way.” Whoever this joker was, he was playing a dangerous game. Maybe it was me that was playing a dangerous game. I rounded the corner and saw the Grey Van pull off into the night, I was not prepared for what I would find. I found Jimmy laid out with a gash on his forehead from no telling what. I knelt down beside him and cradled his head in my hands. “Not like this you little shit, don’t you die on me.”

“Why are you yelling,” came his soft reply as I helped him sit up. Lowering my voice, “What the hell happened?” Jimmy rubbed his forehead a minute, “he disappeared from my view and so I stepped out of my car, pretending to be tired and just stretching my legs. Before I knew it he had spun me around and hit me with something. Pointing at the brass knuckles on the ground nearby, “Likely that”. He nodded, patting his shirt pocket, “Fucker stole my cigarettes too? That’s sacrilege!” My son’s grief over the loss of a pack of cigarettes was amusing considering he could be dead instead. I dug my own smokes out and offered him one. “Shouldn’t we be checking on Viv and Grey?” He asked through a slightly slurred speech. “That’s one hell of a concussion you’ve got kiddo.”  I bagged the brass knuckles in hopes of getting something as far as fingerprints. Then, I helped James stand up and we made our way back to Vivian’s place. The one thing that was obvious to me at that moment was that we had been outplayed. They knew we were here the entire time. I had to figure out how they knew, once I knew that then we’d have an edge in this thing. The even more obvious thing we needed answers to was who? My hope was if we could find out who, maybe it would explain why. I sent a message to them to let them know we were on our way up. I got the acknowledgment from Grey.

Fade


The Next Day

Jimmy and I were still at Vivian and Grey’s apartment. I checked in with Amber to let her know I was okay. My son was okay, more embarrassed than anything about getting caught unaware. He had a mild hangover at the moment and was his usual charming self. I described the previous night's events to Vivian and Grey so they understood the full scope of everything that had transpired. “A man in a metal mask,” she shook her head at first. “That’s some animated G.I. Joe bullshit right there.” She was exasperated by the situation and rightly so. She couldn’t remember anyone from her past that fit the bill for any of the three men I had been able to describe. She frowned, “I don’t think I was ever threatened or had bad blood with anyone in my life, Mac.” I nodded, and realized she couldn’t actually see me, “Okay, there’s obviously someone out there who…” Krayon brushed up against me and whined a little. I looked down at him, “When did you start putting him in a collar?” That got Grey’s attention immediately, I held my hand up forestalling any conversation. I quickly took the collar off much to the delight of Krayon and tossed it out the open french doors. I heard the audible pop when it hit the ground, followed by a sharp noise as if something had detonated. Grey went and looked over the railing of the balcony, “Glad no one was on the streets for that.” I sat back down and looked over at James, who was in turn looking back at me.

“Where did that come from,” I asked Grey. “it arrived a few days ago, it had your name on it.” I shook my head, “Wish I had known that.” I sighed loudly, “Is there anything else here that came from me, things that I didn’t give you myself?” Grey shook his head indicating that he didn’t think there was. “That would explain how they knew I was going to be nearby and that you’d have protection.” I knew the next subject would be a touchy one. “Vivian, what do you think about…” She cut me off, “Running away? You know better, Mac, I’m not running from anyone.” She said it in a way that can only be described as defiant. “Aunt Viv,” James began to say but she cut him off as well, “Don’t you sass me, boy.” He immediately clamped his mouth shut, “Yes ma’am.” and she chuckled softly. “Macky, your kids are so well-mannered.” I smiled causing Grey to chuckle, “Well we did the best we could, Viv.” Grey stood back up and walked to the window, “So what now?” There was a long pause from everyone, the awkward kind that makes your skin crawl. “Jimmy, were you able to pick anything up at all last night?” It was a crap shoot at best but it was all I had to go on currently.

“Nothing of value,” he said with his exasperation showing through. “What about that girl at the precinct?” I asked him, and he smiled, “Oh the prints, yeah, supposed be hearing something this morning.” Grey winked at me, “Dang Jimmy, you know a girl?” He chuckled, “A few, Uncle Grey.” A little humor in a tight situation is often helpful. As if on queue, his phone rang, he picked up and slid the bar to accept the call. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said politely to whoever the caller may be. The conversation went on for a minute and he hung up. “You turned a pretty shade of red, son, everything okay?” I asked him in a teasing way. “We have an identity on the guy from last night, “ he said slowly. “The jagged scar under his jawline is what helped to nail it down. He’s had plastic surgery but didn’t cover that up for some reason.” I listened intently as he explained and it was Vivian who finished the sentence. “Joshua Nightlinger.” Jimmy looked over at her in astonishment. It shook me to my core, another man from mine and Viv’s past. She trembled as she said the name again, almost to the point of tears. Grey went to her side immediately to comfort her as best as he could. Krayon alarmed by this went to them quickly and laid his head in Vivian’s lap. She laid her hand on Krayon’s head to reassure him that it was going to be okay.

“I’m assuming there is more to that call than you’ve gotten to?” Jimmy nodded, “Yes sir, she had to cash in some favors to get that information from the DoD, so now I owe her some….things…” I looked at him and his complexion darkened again. “I don’t need the details, Jimmy, I forgot that one is a bit of a freak. Anyway….” I started to make jokes at my son’s expense but stopped myself. “Nightlinger is a dangerous man, Jimmy, You’re lucky to still have your life.” I paused there for a moment and shook my head cussing out loud now. I quickly dropped a roll of quarters in the nearby swear jar. Hearing the heavy-sounding thunk, she laughed in response. “It’s gonna be one of those days, is it Macky?” I looked back and her and gave her a gentle smile, “I’ll try my best not to have to add to the jar, Viv.” Jimmy looked at me expectantly, “Were there other names mentioned by DoD?” “You mean like known associates, that kind of thing?” I nodded in response and Vivian beat him to the punch yet again. “Forrest Ackile and “jersey” Sam Fontaine” I shook my head, “I was afraid she’d say that.” I cussed again, a longer tirade than last time. I looked at the jar, “I think that was about even now.”

I looked at Jimmy, “Vivian and I know all those men. They were all black ops based in Puerto Rico and later in Gitmo.” He looked at me in horror, because he was the only one of the kids that I had ever told about my time in the service. The things I had been forced to do and the things I had done willingly for the sake of my country. “Thing is, I watched all three of those men die, over twenty years ago.”

[On Camera]

I studied the floor for a minute, admiring the shine on my old cowhide boots, the crease freshly starched into my jeans. I had my thumbs tucked behind my belt buckle and when I removed them and looked up you could hear the rustling of the white denim shirt that was also starched. The black stetson I wore cast a slight shadow across my face as I looked into the camera.

Well, here we are once again. Another super show, but this opponent is different. It’s Jack “by god” Washington after all. Didn’t y’all know he’s a fucking legend in this business? The biggest star in Sin City? Hell, you don’t have to believe me, you can ask him yourself. He’ll tell ya, it’s like he’s a vegan or something.

I smirk at the camera.

If I have to explain that joke, it’s not as much fun.

An easy smile appears on my face as I continue.

Jack has all these questions and accusations, shit, I don’t even know where to start.

Taking on a more serious expression, I strike the thinking man’s pose.

Let’s just start with the obvious one, the one that’s been lingering for the longest. Why would I allow Ken Davison to challenge for the world title instead of someone like you? I mean, you are a two-time champion and deserve to be acknowledged right?

I drop the pose and place my hands on my hips.

I find that the truth is always the easiest and best answer. Jack, it’s not because I don’t respect you or like you, it’s because he was a man and challenged me to my face instead of talking shit about me behind my back. You said all those things in a promo, right? 

I nod my head curtly.

Guess what jackass, I don’t watch every promo from every member of the roster. No one mentioned it to me either, maybe you just didn’t leave the impression you were looking for.

I shrug my shoulders.

Regardless of all that, here we are. You’re getting your match and hell who knows? If you can beat me, then they’d have to recognize you as a serious contender, right? Not necessarily but it would give you a feather in your cap. Oh..wait that’s right, you beat me once before. Know what’s funny? After you did that no one said shit about it. Not anyone in management or the roster thought much of it, I guess.

I shake my head in disgust.

So, what conclusion can we draw from that fact? Well, there’s one of two ways to go with this. Either it’s because you suck and no one cares about your matches, or….

I was an unimpressive champion?

The answer is as obvious as neon, I was a fucking epic champion.

You suck.

I smile at the camera and then blow a kiss.

Have you ever heard the phrase, oh that guys alright, you just have to get to know them?

I exhale and roll my eyes.

That’s what I’ve heard from anyone who I ever asked about Jack. In other words, he’s an asshole but you get used to it after a while. Jackie, you’re not original or cutting. Your promos are filled with cliches used in the past, hundreds of times over. You are a rip off of a rip off my man. You are a two-time world champion here in sin city, where I’ve held it three times. The number of times you’ve held that title is important to make note of. Not many have held it more than once. Only two men have held it as many times as I have. 

I give him a nod of respect.

I know all of that sounded like a backhanded compliment, and you’re right it was. I’ve always had a great disdain for you and people like you. You go out there every week and just bury your opponents and when you get your ass beat, you don’t acknowledge it. Which makes you even worse. No selling a loss, that’s real cutting-edge stuff there slick.

I laugh, but only briefly and I stop.

Honestly Jack, I don’t give a shit either way whether you acknowledge anything I’ve said. If I beat you, it’s just another day in my life. If I lose to you, well, that would be tragic. I might have to consider retirement at that moment. I’ll see you soon kid, the stakes have never been higher.

[Jack Washington]

Prologue:

Jack was unsuccesful his last appearance, losing a frustrating match to Finn Whalen. But this has not stopped Jack from still trying to reach the top once again. Jack again took some time to reflect before seeing his name etched on the card for High Stakes. Jack preapred to return to the ring in order to face Mac Bane, who has been on a tear in the past few months. Was there ring rust in Jack’s game against Finn? Would he be able to put it all together at High Stakes against an opponent of Mac’s caliber? 

 

Outside the ring, Jack continued to do a lot of relaxing, but there also has come the time for reflection during this period.  Jack went fishing for the first time in ages, he’s been able to take things slowly with the casino getting under control, and this has enabled Jack to really stop and ponder things. And now, he’s going to take it one step further.

--

Las Vegas Therapy

Las Vegas, NV.

 

He wasn’t nervous, but he certainly felt a different feeling in the pit of his stomach as he waited for his appointment time. The dead silence of the office bothered him. Then again, a lot of things bothered him. He waited patiently for his name to be called, but in a way, he didn’t. He really didn’t want to be here, but he knew he had to Go through with it. 

 

Receptionist: Mr. Washington, Dr. Linderman will see you now.

 

He stood up, took a deep breath, and marched forward. He raised his hand the tiniest bit to acknowledge the receptionist and moved past her as he opened the door to the hallway. The skinny doctor came up to greet Jack with his hand outstretched for a shake.

 

Dr. Linderman: Mr. Washington, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Linderman, but you can call me Alex.

 

His hand was still outstretched, and Jack looked at it. Everything in his body said not to shake this man’s hand, because he always was taught that a handshake can be the first step to being set up. He just stared at it. 

 

“No.” he thought. “He’s a doctor, therapist, psychiatrist or whatever. There is no need to be so defensive.”

 

It was almost an uncomfortable amount of time but Jack did reach out his own hand to shake the Doctor’s. But the doctor simply smiled, and thought about touching Jack’s shoulder, but thought better of it.

 

Dr. Linderman: I see, I see, baby steps. No worries, come on back with me.

 

He led the way. Jack followed, wanting to break the habit of keeping a safe distance to avoid being attacked. He wanted to shake this kind of stuff off. Well, not completely, but at least somewhat. The door to the room was opened and Jack walked in, surveying the room instead of just sitting down.

 

Dr. Linderman: You can have a seat right on that couch there.

 

Jack studied the couch and sat down. He rubbed his snapped his fingers and clapped his hands, showing a clear sign of anxiety. Dr. Linderman closed the door and sat down.

 

Dr. Linderman: Mr. Washington, I just want to let you know this is a safe place. You don’t have to be nervous.

 

Jack: Is this where I lay back and tell you all my problems?

 

Dr. Linderman: You can. I mean, we’ve all got issues from time to time goodness knows I’ve had mine.

 

Jack: I’m not here to listen to your problems. I’m paying you to listen to me.

 

Dr. Linderman: I was just making a comparison, but point taken. 

 

Jack actually felt in control now. He leaned back on the couch in a more relaxed state.

 

Jack: So I guess, ask me some questions or whatever.

 

Dr. Linderman: Well, Why you tell me about yourself, and why you’re here.

 

Jack: I’m Jack. I’m the best professional wrestler on the planet. I have a casino that I run with my family. I can’t go back to my place of birth because shit my dad did has made most of my family shoot on sight. I’ve got another price on my head right out in Vegas from some Mexicans who want to kill me. I like long walks on the beach, fishing and I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.

 

Dr. Linderman paused. He was speechless for a few moments as Jack unloaded all this information and Dr. Linderman was unsure if Jack was actually joking or if any of that was true or not. He wrote some notes down and continued to say nothing for a long period of time.

 

Jack: Well, I guess I’m cured then.

 

Dr. Linderman held up his hand to pause Jack, who had started to get up.

 

Dr. Linderman: Just a moment please. I just have to ask... and I mean no disrespect when I ask this but... Is ANY of that true?

 

Jack: Of course it is. Why would I lie about it. I wouldn’t be here if I was just making up shit about my own life. Hell, I’d be much better off if I was just miserable. 

 

Dr. Linderman: And are you miserable?

 

Jack: I think I am. 

 

Dr. Linderman: How do you feel right now?

 

Jack: Like I shouldn’t be here, but I should be here. It’s weird. Like, I am on top of the world right now. Everything is going great, but... shit man, I already know that someday, somewhere, somebody from back home is going to come for me. And I can but protection, I can buy security, but something’s bound to happen. And I’m just the dude by proxy.

 

Dr. Linderman: You mentioned your dad, and that he... got you in trouble. Do you hate your dad for it? Does that make you feel miserable?

 

Jack: No. Part of me believes that my dad did the wrong thing, and the other part of me believes he did the right thing. There’s code and unspoken rules and all that. And when you take the oath to be part of the game, you’re part of the game forever. But really... are you? I guess you are, and that’s why he’s hated, and that’s why I’m hated now. 

 

Dr. Linderman: And you’re in the game now too?

 

Jack: I was in the game long before I really officially in the game.

 

--

Philadelphia, PA

10 years ago.

 

Trash, littered the streets. It was cold. Snow would be falling soon. An obviously younger Jack waited, far skinnier than he appears today. The “stick” nickname was apt at this point. He stood, one foot on the cement wall, heavy hoodie covering his torso and head. A beanie covered his ears. This is what he did. He stood on the corner and waited. He looked around, his hands deep in his pockets, the small baggie in his clenched fist. He obviously shouldn’t be on the streets as a 14 year old kid, but he was. His friend Bobby stood next to him, bundled up just as much as Jack was himself. He however, couldn’t stand still for more than a few seconds, he paced back and forth. It caught Jack’s attention, and annoyed him.

 

Jack: Knock it off.

 

Bobby: Where is this guy, man? I’m freezing my ass off out here.

 

Jack: Just wait.

 

It wasn’t longer than 5 minutes before the red Mercedes pulled up. Clearly out of place in this neighborhood. The window was rolled down. A hand motioned for them to come closer. Jack kept his distance, inching closer.

 

Jack: What are you looking for?

 

The large man in the passenger seat turned, and held up two fingers.  Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out two baggies. He held them up, and waited. The passenger waved to come closer and Jack looked at Bobby and nodded. He inched closer and started to hold out the baggies, but kept his distance.

 

Jack: You got what I’m looking for? 

 

The passenger nodded, Jack was pretty smart not to approach the car. The passenger reached into his wallet and pulled a wad of bills. The two exchanged at the same time. Transaction complete. The car drove away, Jack counted his money. Satisfied, he started to walk away, and Bobby followed closely behind him.

 

Bobby: How much?

 

Jack: $125. 

 

Bobby: Good shit man. 

 

The screeching halt of tires causes both of them to stop in their tracks, and then begin to sprint. Like a flash they were moving away from the car which by this time was turned around. They hopped fences and ducked through back alleyways. Breaking the line of sight, they stopped, only to catch their breath. 

 

Bobby: Got ‘em again.

 

Jack: Easy money.

 

He had sold them imitation product. Clearly not what they wanted and Jack got one over on them. Jack’s phone rang. He looked down at it, smirking to himself.

 

Jack: Go. Another job? Okay we’ll hit that place up.

 

Jack hung up the phone. It was like this for his life. Life on the street making money, but he wasn’t doing much with his life. It was petty cash to people like his dad. But he wanted his father’s respect more than anything. But this is the way it was.

 

--

Las Vegas Therapy

Las Vegas, NV.

 

Dr Linderman: And that’s how it started?

 

Jack: That’s the way it was for a long time. I mean, I know, I wasn’t the best person in the world when I was younger, but I was doing what I had to do. Sometimes what you have to do isn’t nice and neat and all that. Sometimes it’s rough and screwing another person over. Does that make me a bad person?

 

Dr. Linderman: I don’t know Jack. Do you think it makes you a bad person? 

 

Jack: I don’t know. I haven’t killed anybody. I haven’t just fucked over a random person because I felt like it. I just... did what I had to do. Where they shitty things sometimes? Yes. I’m not the nicest person in the world, but man I never did anything to anybody that didn’t have it coming.

 

Dr. Linderman: I feel like we’re going to need more sessions. We’re just scratching the surface of what could be there.

 

--

 

On Camera:

 

Click.

 

Jack is pacing, his dander is up. He looks more annoyed than usual. Pacing around in his home with the camera shooting him.

 

Jack: I can’t believe this. This is just utter disrespect, and I should file a formal complaint about this ridiculousness. It’s just really fucking sad that we have to go to these lengths, SCW. You could have just told the truth, and we all could have been much, much better off. But no, we have to lie to people, we have to just make shit up and make everybody feel all warm and fuzzy inside or whatever. I was just hoping after all this time that you guys could get this right, and it would make me feel, at least, a little more respected than I am now. But just when I take the time off, and give other people a chance to shine, what do they do? A big old handful of nothing. And you know it, SCW. You know it, and in order to make yourself feel better, you have lied.

 

Where in the fuck do you all get off calling Mac Bane GREAT?

 

Great? Great my ass, SCW! What are you kidding me? What the hell makes Mac Bane great? What has he done, that I haven’t?  He never faced stiff competition. For God sake the man won the SCW world title from garbage ass Alex Jones. He won it from Old man Matthew Knox. But let’s throw a parade for the jackasses who have hot potatoed the biggest championship in the game. And you have the outright audacity to call the man great? I am insulted by the fucking paring of the words “Mac Bane” and “great” in the same sentence. They shouldn’t be in the same paragraph, or fucking essay, let alone used to describe him. Knock that shit off SCW, you should be better than that.

 

Where is all the praise for me? Why am I not called “Great”? What haven’t I done? What feat did I not accomplish? What? Was my domination of the main event in 2021 not good enough? Was my stranglehold on the SCW Internet championship not good enough? Why am I being treated like some flash in the pan? I have destroyed people left and right, and it’s like when I took a break to recharge my batteries so I could come back and beat even more people, and do it more convincingly than I was already doing, it’s like everybody forgot who the hell I was. You all acted like I never existed, and you’re calling Mac Bane great? 

 

Give me a break.

 

Jack stops, sneers and continues to pace, a disrespectful sniff to the air.

 

Jack: Look here Cowboy, I don’t give a damn what you’ve done. You are not great. You’re not even close to it. You have done nothing to impress me. You lost the world title to Ken Davison of all people. He sucks. And so that means you suck. You might even suck worse. And while you’re busy getting your ass kicked, your little girlfriend or whatever got ran outta here and here you are, sticking around and trying to get all the glory because let’s just face it Cowboy, she overshadows you in every way. You ain’t nothing, man. And they have the fucking tamarity to call you great. Get the fuck outta here with that bullshit.

 

See, the thing is Cowboy, everything I just said, it may make you mad, you may want to tear my head off and you may want to kick my ass and everything else. I’m pushing every button I want to, because you and I both know that I can push those buttons, because they are the truth. You can look into my eyes right now Cowboy, and you know I’m telling the truth. I don’t lie, or make up shit about you, it’s all right there. You can look at me like I’m the worst person in the world, but what you really need to do is look in the mirror. Because the guy staring back at you is the same guy that I just ran down in a matter of seconds.  You are a three-time SCW world champion, and if you were as good as everybody makes you out to be, you would have never lost the damn thing in the first place to Matthew Knox. Who is Matt Knox? And you certainly shouldn’t have lost to Ken Davison. You would still be the champion right now. If you were good enough, you would still be carrying around that title, and the fact is, you aren’t. You aren’t carrying shit. I would say, the only thing you are carrying these days are your girlfriend’s bags, but she isn’t even around anymore. Much like your little group of friends. They left you too. I’m seeing the pattern, Cowboy. People cozy up to you because they think you can take them places, and at the end of the day, most of them smarten up and leave you high and dry because you are basically the human equivalent of Fool’s gold.

 

You don’t have to like the things I say and do, Cowboy. It doesn’t bother me what you say about me. I’ve gladly accepted that in this business, I’m just gonna be the guy who has the say the things that need to be said, and I’m not here to make friends and have a group of cronies or hangers on. I say what I say, because I can back it up in the ring. Everything I’ve ever said in front of these cameras is 100% real. It’s me, Cowboy. And as it stands right now, you are a poodle trying to bark at an elephant. You are fighting a battle you cannot win, my guy. You are trying to come at me, when you know, just like everyone else, on this microphone, I am UNTOUCHABLE. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say, and all I do is spit the truth. I am the face of this franchise, and you know it.  You don’t scare me, Cowboy. You are nothing to me, no matter what you have done. And I know that from the experience I have with you.

 

Jack wags his finger, still annoyed, but a chuckle, an angry chuckle, but a chuckle still escapes him.

 

Jack: Oh yeah, Cowboy, I remember it like it was yesterday when you tried me. You thought you were hot shit just that short time ago, with your little group and your little ego, and you came up against me, and I warned you then, didn’t I? Oh yeah, I warned your ass, that you can take this L, and then you can avoid anything else, because people like me, are not a problem that people like you really want. You are one of those people, Cowboy. I warned you that this beef is not something you wanted.  And to your credit, when you took the L like I said you would, when you walked away with your tail between your legs, you didn’t cause a problem. I assumed there was hope for you by staying out of my way. 

 

And this is the thanks I get for assuming. I guess the old saying is true.

 

You now stand here and you must know this is yet another L coming for you, right? I mean, you might be a shit-kicking Cowboy and whatever else Cowboy’s do, but you’re not the biggest idiot in the world. Right? I mean, I guess by default you’re not since there’s still certain people who think even more dumbass things are the truth. But I’m telling you this now because it has to be occuring to you in your head that you are about to lose yet again to me. I mean, you can rest in the comfort that a lot of people lose to me. Because I’m an ELITE talent. I am just that good, and you know I'm telling you the truth. I wiped the floor with the competition here, and they’ve had to recruit people to come here, and continually give a 50 year old man multiple chances because he was the best they could come up with. And he’s already lost the damn title. They just don’t have people like me around anymore Cowboy.

 

I am on an entirely other level, Cowboy. Those people calling you great, they’re just feeding you ego. And I’m going to be the one who shuts that conversation down real quick. You can call me an asshole, because that’s what I am. I never claimed to be a hero or even a good-hearted person. I don’t need that shit, I never did. I just want what I deserve. I’m out for me. I don’t need anybody watching my back, because they’re just looking for a good place to stick the knife. I’m sure you’re aware of how that feels. But the fact is, if you are considered great, I should be considered the GreatEST. Period.

 

Jack once again resumes the sneer on his face as he thinks about finishing this up.

 

Jack: At High Stakes, I’m not going to “use you as a steppingstone” as the match preview tries to throw out there Cowboy. I don’t need to use you as a steppingstone. I’ve already stepped over you. And I’ve been above you this entire time. It still pisses me off to no end that I take a break for a little bit and everybody loses their minds like I don’t exist. Maybe because they don’t want me to exist. And I know you won’t want me to exist after High Stakes, Cowboy. Because I’m going to beat you, yet again, and then, just maybe the people running this show will actually put some goddamn respect on my name! 

 

It must be that’s what I have to do in order for people to stop acting like I’ve already fallen off or peaked. Talking about me like I’m trying to regain my spot. No, you have it all wrong. I’m not regaining a spot, that shit is RESERVED for me. I don’t care how long I take a vacation for, I can walk into any match and beat the shit out of anybody who tries me. Will me doing this to the Cowboy actually grab your attention? Because I better get a god damn formal apology from the people in SCW for trying to act like I’m not THAT FUCKING GUY.  You talk about Mac Bane as if he is the second coming. You talk about him, as if I don’t exist. Did I not already handle this dude? Did I not already clear out multiple divisions? Did I not do this shit faster than practically anybody? Where is my respect?

 

You know what? After High Stakes, after I beat the Cowboy again, you all better start calling me great. No, as a matter of fact, you don’t need to call me great, you need to call me what I fucking am: The Face of this Franchise. Acknowledge my goddamn greatness! Sing my praises! What’s wrong with me? Huh? Don’t call me “a talented young star” That shit is insulting. I am the BEST. You never wanted to say it out loud, but you knew it deep down, so guess what? After I beat the stupid fucking Cowboy that you’re calling great, you’re going to say that shit out loud. 

 

I am Jack Washington. The Face of this Franchise. And you will put some fucking respect on my name. 

 

Jack stares into the camera and we fade out.

 

Click.

 

Face. Of. The. Franchise.