Prologue:
Jack was unsuccessful in winning the SCW world title, but isn’t apparently in the worst of spirits. He seemed to be accepting of everything more so than usual. After nearly having a mental breakdown, it appears that Jack is okay, but one has to wonder about his true mental state going into this triple threat match for the SCW Roulette championship, a championship that if he won, would mean Jack is a triple crown winner.
Outside the ring, Jason was apparently set up by the returning Mexicans, who nearly killed Jason about a year ago. While the police are still hunting for them, Jason still seemingly encountered them, and now, Jack must prepare to deal with their full wrath once again.
--
Washington Estate
Las Vegas, NV
Pacing. Pacing back and forth. Stopping only to peer out the window from time to time as Brian came in the door.
Jack: Anything?
Brian looked at him like he was crazy. He was certainly acting crazy. Paranoid is more apt.
Brian: Stick, they ain’t about to do anything in broad daylight. Plus, the security team is out there and on watch, just like they always are. You do not have to act like the world is coming to an end. If they come, that’s why you hired Ed. His team is on it.
He stopped. As if this just hit him. Despite the fact that he had hired Ed and his team, and they were the best. He was nervous, scared even, that the Mexicans would be back sooner rather than later. This was something he has already really accounted for, but now, it was happening.
Jack: You’re right. You’re right. I’m just... I dunno man, I’m a little paranoid.
Brian shook his head and really for the first time in a long time, he put his hand on Jack in a show of comfort. Brian was never the touchy-feely type so this was a little shocking and jarring to Jack, but he nodded as well.
Brian: Stick, you will make yourself sick is you continue like this. You know, I told you a couple of weeks ago to take a vacation, and it looks like you can use another one already.
He nodded again, a small smirk crossed his face. He was worrying about this, and maybe too much. He sighed and seemed to relax. He sat down in his chair, trying to lean back, but stopped and looked up at Brian.
Jack: What about the Casino?
Brian: What about it?
Jack: Do we know that it’s safe?
Brian: It should be. Johnny’s got that. Just let him know.
Jack: But he doesn’t know.
Jack was of course referring to the fact the Mexicans knew of the spots underground at the casino below the parking garage that they had built. The spots they worked without anyone noticing.
Jack: I’m going to have to tell him, or we’re going to have to seal that part off. Probably both.
Brian: I’m sure it can be arranged.
Jack: Good, can you get on that. I need to make a quick trip.
Brian: Where?
Jack: We may need some backup.
--
Harrah’s Hotel & Casino
Jack had come to see Sonny. It had been quite a while since he had spoken to Sonny, and the last time was not favorable conversation that Jason had lead to the point where it seemed Jack and Jason may go to war with Sonny.
He was just hoping time had healed that wound.
He was escorted to the penthouse suite, he felt the sharp point of a gun barrel in his back a few times, so he was pretty certain it wasn’t going to be all good. The door opened and there was Sonny, sitting in a chair, staring at him.
Sonny: What do I owe the honor, son? Come to finally run me out?
Jack: No, Sonny. I’m actually here to talk some business.
Sonny only chuckled in response.
Sonny: Business. Yeah, I remember that was last time too.
Jack: I want to apologize for my brother, he gets impulsive and he’s not all the way right in the head. He speaks without thinking.
Sonny: Or his just confuses saying the loud part quiet and the quiet part loud.
Jack: Again, I’m sorry, I just want to talk about some new information that came to light.
Sonny eyed him suspiciously. There was no doubt a gun was close by if Jack made any sudden moves.
Jack: Look, I’m not here to shoot you, you patted me down, I’m not armed. I just want to talk.
Sonny: Make it quick.
Jack: We may... have a problem with the Mexicans coming back.
Sonny: Oh really?
Jack; Yes, my brother got arrested a couple weeks ago.
Sonny: Oh yeah, I heard about that.
Jack: You did?
Sonny: I got eyes and ears everywhere kid, it’s a rule of being in this business.
Jack: Fine. I get it, but he was set up by the Mexicans. He told me so himself.
Sonny: And that’s a sad story. You’re breaking my heart, kid. What does it have to do with me?
Jack: If they are coming after me, you know you are on their hitlist.
Sonny stopped and stared at Jack. Maybe Jack had gotten through to him, but Sonny simply started chuckling.
Sonny: And?
Jack: I’m just saying … we worked together before. Why not do it again?
Sonny now busted into outright laughter.
Sonny: You... you wanna work together? No, no you don’t want to work together. I’ll tell you what you want. You want some insurance. You want backup. You want a crutch.
Sonny stood up, pulling a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up.
Sonny: If you want to be a player here, be a player. I can deal with them if they come back. Obviously, you can’t. But you’re gonna have to figure that one out for yourself, kid.
Jack: I’m just...
Sonny: Sorry kid, the answer is no. It’s survival out there. You either adapt, or you perish. It’s as simple as that. I’ve grown my empire. Grown my guys. You’re lucky I don’t crush you and your idiot brother out now. I’m sure you can find your way out of here.
Jack say that Sonny had simply turned to walk away. He was going to say something, but it wasn’t going to make any difference. He simply left, dejected, and sullen. He shrugged, and pulled out his phone once he got to his car.
Jack: Brian.... it didn’t work out. Tell Jay... we’re on our own.
--
On Camera:
Click.
He doesn’t wear a smirk, or a scowl, it’s a blank look, one of... almost indifference.
Jack: I could complain. I could. But what’s the point? I’ve come to realize at this point that I’m basically yelling into the god damn ether and everybody just sees the truth, as me complaining about things and trying to cover up my failures. I’m just Jack, the guy who whines when he loses.
Despite the fact that I’ve never complained about a loss. I take them, they happen. I get over them quickly. Just as quickly as I do wins. Do you hear me talk about how I beat guy X or guy Y repeatedly? No. I won those matches, I moved on. It’s the same with losses. I lost at High Stakes, and you know what, it was a six pack challenge and I should have been better. I could sit here and bitch, but there’s no point in doing so. I mean, shouldn’t I be happy? I go from one title shot to another this week. What’s there to complain about?
I mean, sure, Austin Mercer and Goth, two men who ALSO didn’t win are facing each other for a chance to compete for the world title, and I’m just getting this random Roulette title match, which is just a bunch of bullshit, but hey, why complain about it? Why would I need to point out the nonsense of randomly having these men who got the same result I did, getting a chance neither of them deserve? There’s just no point in it anymore. I’ve done shitty things, I’ve won matches by awful means, I’ve talked down to many, many people. My record isn’t clean, I never argued that it was. I’ve simply spoken the truth. I may be a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.
But I guess that, and a couple bucks may get me a coffee and nothing else. I’ve learned to just stop caring about the what match I’m in. I know where I need to be, and obviously calling attention to it is just making people mad and this is just the punishment for it.
But Jack, you’re getting a championship match! You shouldn’t be complaining! It’s the Roulette title. A title, I am, quite frankly, too good for. That’s not a brag, that’s a statement of fact. What do I need the Roulette title for? That’s for wrestlers who are just starting or are comfortable there, or it’s their celing. I know it, you know it. And I’m... correct me if I’m wrong, a two-time Internet and World champion. What does this do for me?
A shrug.
Jack: There is no real answer to this, but hey, I won’t complain about it. I’m happy to have this opportunity, and happy to get some more gold, and hell, I’ll complete the triple crown and add to my already impressive legacy. Sure, why the hell not?
That’s what the thing is, right? The chance for me to do that and then... I’m out of their hair for a while. I’m not going to complain about it, I’m going to take it, and then as soon as I’m done with the Roulette title, I’m going to kindly as for my one on one match for the SCW world title. I have not had one since I won the title the second time. Just so you all know, I am keeping score, but now, I’m not going to harp on it. I’m going to let it be known now, and then when the time comes, I’m going to bring it up until it happens.
But for now, I’m going to win this Roulette championship, and make it mean more than any of the other champions that have come before me.
And I get it, it’s Roulette, it could be anything. Lucky for me, I’ve thrived in this environment pretty much my entire time, and for my entire life. I’ve had curveballs thrown at me left an right. I wrestled in a god damn maze, I fought in pudding. Hell at this point, some stupid ladder match or table match or belt on a pole match is going to be a breeze. I’ve been a survivor for a long, long time. So I don’t sweat whatever comes from the Roulette wheel.
He shakes his head, and another heavy shrug follows.
Jack: I don’t sweat Peter Vaughn either. Everybody was so hyped when he showed up and he won some matches and everybody was showing him with praise. Almost like they did me. Except you know what I did? I went on and became a world champion. And Peter Vaughn has been stuck right here, where I left him all those months ago. In the rearview mirror. Haven’t thought about him, Haven’t looked at what he’s done, because I haven’t cared. He was my opponent months ago, I beat him, I moved on. I guess he’s been Roulette champion for a long time. 6 months or something. Well, isn’t that special? I suppose that after I beat him and win the title from him, that he will just shoot up the rankings and get himself a big time title match again, right?
I will again, be holding onto this and I will bring it up when the time is right.
But hey, how the hell are you Peter? Still doing that Janitor thing? Still being a crazy person? Getting into some wacky adventures and making sure you spout off nonsense about nothing in particular and falling ass-backwards into victories? Good job. That’s your thing, that’s what you do, so, I can see now that I have missed nothing important happening. I know, I know, you’ve had that title for a long time, and you’ve probably become attached to it like a janitor does his trusty mop and all that right? And wouldn’t it just crush you if someone like me just took it from you? You’re so close to immortality, so close to setting a record and then... poof, it’s gone, just like that, in a flash.
Welcome to my world.
That’s how I’ve been feeling for the past year and some change. I beat chumps like you, and then I make it so far and then one tiny little hurdle and I stumble, and POOF, it’s all gone. Now, you get to know exactly how I feel all those times. So close to accomplishing something great, only for someone to come out of nowhere, and take it all away in one fell swoop.
But let’s just be honest with each other Peter, you have that title, because Goth vacated it or whatever. You beat some scrubs and you’ve been fending off those scrubs for six months, but you know what’s about to happen to you, don’t you? You’re going to get exposed. You will be exposed for the fraud that you are as the Roulette champion, because I’m going to beat you for it. First try and everything. And then all you hard work goes down the drain.
But hey, maybe they’ll give you a re-match or something. I’m sure you’ll be rewarded so, why even complain about what’s coming your way? I know I wouldn’t.
He stares, hands on hips, and rolls his eyes almost in disbelief of his current situation.
Jack: And I sure as hell don’t sweat Bill Barnhart. Though, I wish I could be like Bill Barnhart in a way, and maybe I’m starting to become that. I wish I could be that guy who comes out week after week and fails miserably, and keeps a smile on his face. Because you’re aware of something important Bill. You’re aware that no matter what, as long as you don’t ruffle feather, so long as you are a good little solider and you keep doing what is asked of you, you’ll eventually fall ass backwards into matches like this.
I wish I coud be like that Bill, but that’s not me. That’s you, and that works for you. Keep it up my guy, because it just doesn’t fail you. You know good and well you have no business in this match, you won this title before on a fluke, and lost it just as quickly, and you’ve been running on this hamster wheel ever since. I can appreciate your confidence, but again, we both know you are utterly outmatched.
You know damn well that when it comes to this, people like me go to the top, and folks like you stay right where they are comfortable. But I will tell you this, I’m not comfortable with this position. I’m going to win this match and then, I’m sure I will be seeing a lot of you in the future. Because this is where you reside. This area of SCW. I know I should be a lot higher than this, but this is where I am now. So, I’m going to make the most of it for now, Bill. I’m sure I’ll be kicking your ass a lot in the near future, but rest assure, it’s not because I want to. I’d much the same just beat you, and Peter, and then move on back to where I belong.
But, for now... this is where I am. So, it’s going to suck for you in the near future.
Another, shrug. At this point it’s been his go-to move.
Jack: So, I’m going to win this match, but you know, if by some act of God that I don’t. I don’t even care. I’m through with that. I’m through really trying to make this mean anything. Nobody else wants to, so, I guess I’ll just be along for the ride.
Until the time is right.
I will remember everything, so don’t you worry, I’ll be keeping score and I will keep track until the moment arises. Roulette title, fine, that’s the just the first step.
He shooes the camera away, flopping into his recliner. We fade to black.
Click.
Starting. Over.
