[Saul Weaver]

 The scene opens up inside the Gold Coast Casino, a short while after ‘Into The Void 3’ successfully took place. We’re in a restricted area of the venue, reserved exclusively for Sin City Wrestling employees and officials – a makeshift dressing room area, if you will.

Wasting little time, our subject for tonight’s post-show exclusive – Saul Weaver – enters the frame. The self-proclaimed “Voice of the truth” wears a prominent scowl; one that’s only partially hidden by his thick beard. He was nothing more than a spectator throughout tonight’s show, although something has ignited a flame underneath him that only a rant can extinguish. The cameras follow on behind him, as he guides them through the hallway towards his destination – hair and make-up.

As he turns the final corner, Liz Smalls emerges into the shot, looking incredibly pleased with herself, and with just cause too. The Coast to Coast Covergirl enjoyed three individual victories across America tonight; the latter of the trio occurring right here in Las Vegas, Nevada. The blonde strides confidently towards the camera crew; although that confidence she exudes soon haemorrhages from her when she lays her blue eyes upon Saul Weaver.

There’s a momentary pause in the corridor, simply to allow for a brief stare down between the two parties. Smalls hasn’t seen Weaver since her controversial actions towards him in another promotion two weeks ago, so she’s unsure on whether this fleeting encounter would involve the exchange of pleasantries or verbal jousts.

Her quandary is soon answered.

Saul Weaver: “Well, well. I might have known you wouldn’t be far from the make-up room, Lizzy.”

The face of Maybelline isn’t given the chance to respond to his quip, as he retorts.

Saul Weaver: “You know, I’m glad that I’ve run into you, Smalls. You’ve really opened my eyes tonight and I wanted to talk to you about it, as well as address a few home truths. Think you can afford me that time, sweetheart?”

The tone in Saul’s voice implies that his question is more rhetorical than genuine, although Liz doesn’t detect this at all. Liz, instead, twirls a finger through her hair, rolling her eyes now more annoyed than anything.

Liz Smalls: “I had a REALLY long night. Soooo unless you have something important to say maybe I should go…”

The exhausted Covergirl motions to brush past Weaver in a manner that screams disrespect; however an outstretched arm from the “Voice of the truth” soon puts paid to that. She stalls suddenly, although doesn’t protest against his actions. She can’t.

Saul Weaver: “Now, now. Play nice, Lizzy. This won’t take long. There’s a few things you – and everybody else – need to hear. So now, perhaps more than ever before, pay attention.”

Liz – against the grain of her usual bravado – complies with his request and backs off slightly, before firing a tired glance in his general direction.

Liz Smalls: “As long as you don’t BORE me like you’ve done every single time you’ve talked to me before. I mean, like, can’t you at least use words that more people can understand?”

Liz puts her hands on her hips, as a smile creeps across her face.

Liz Smalls: “You know what? Forget it. Go ahead. I’ll…”

She holds up her hands making air quotes.

Liz Smalls: “Listen.”

Saul overlooks the verbal diarrhoea from his female foe and resumes anyway.

Saul Weaver: “Tonight, you did something that – in all honestly – stunned the wrestling world and everyone in it. For months, you’ve been parading around the ring like a lamb lost in a slaughterhouse, luring everyone into a false sense of security that you’re nothing more than a vapid, ten-a-penny model with literally no clue on how to wrestle. You’ve successfully forged your way under peoples skin and, little by little, you’ve developed a negative stigma towards the “Smalls” family name in this industry; a name that sure as hell didn’t have that stigma before you strolled into this business on a whim. So, imagine everyone’s disgust and horror at even the notion – let alone the fact – that you’ve become a World Heavyweight Champion somewhere.”

Liz looks delighted with herself; a fact reinforced by the wide grin etched across her face. Weaver – in stark contrast – maintains his serious frown.

Saul Weaver: “I don’t need to tell you about the reaction to that news, Lizzy. After all, you’re the social media guru, right? People are outraged at the outcome. There are random athletes surfacing from the woodwork, begging for your head on a stick. You’ve infuriated the men and women of this industry because you conned them all.”

Although it’s evident that he’s lambasting her, you wouldn’t know it from her body language. She carries herself like a woman being showered in compliments, with a beaming smile and a proud, confident stance.

Saul Weaver: “It seems you’ve pulled off one of the single greatest illusions in the history of professional wrestling; although for some reason, people don’t want to give you recognition for it. They want you gone. They want an uprising from the community to oust you as a champion and – perhaps more importantly – as a competitor. The thing is is, Lizzy; whether you like me or loathe me, you have to concede that I’m a man of intelligence. That being said, I’ll even hold my hands up and admit that you got me. When I whooped your ass three weeks ago, I thought I was dealing with a complete amateur. So to learn that it was all an act? Bravo. Good for you, Liz. The problem is, this is just the beginning. Like I said to you on Twitter: conning the world isn’t the difficult part. The system does that every single day. The difficult part is fighting against the people who now know the truth.”

The smile on the face of the Covergirl subsides slightly, as she absorbs his words carefully. After all, he’s right. Nobody will ever underestimate her again.

Saul Weaver: “Do I like what you’ve done? Definitely not. I think it’s an act of cowardice and a move straight from a play book designed to tarnish the spirit of competition. It’s weak and there’s only one person to blame for it…”

Weaver leans forward, invading Smalls’ personal space to such an extent that the mean girl retreats slightly, backing up against the corridor wall.

Saul Weaver: “...Them.”

Liz looks perplexed by this. Did she hear him correctly? Saul spends a few lingering seconds glaring at her, before turning his ferocious stare towards the barrel of the camera lens. Smalls can only watch on in shock.

Saul Weaver: “It’s your fault, people. You’re to blame for what happened tonight. I preach the importance of vigilance against the system on a daily basis for their underhand tactics. I warn you all about underestimating the powers that be, because they’re out to manipulate you and control you. You didn’t listen to me before and now? Now you don’t have much of a choice.”

For Liz, this sudden turn of events is the perfect end to a perfect day for her on a personal scale. Saul’s pause is only brief, before he continues.

Saul Weaver: “Did she screw you all over? Absolutely. Is she wrong for it? You better believe it. However, the problem isn’t that she did it. The problem is that she was allowed to do it because of your god damn ignorance! You all sat back and bought the apples from her barrel. Liz Smalls sucks! Liz Smalls doesn’t belong here. Liz Smalls is a fraud. Yeah? Well because you all chose to ridicule her and underestimate her instead of treat her like the rest of your opponents; Liz Smalls is now a World Heavyweight Champion… And you have only yourselves to blame.”

Weaver looks towards Liz momentarily, before returning his focused stare at the lens of the camera.

Saul Weaver: “People like all of you are exactly what’s wrong with the world. You sit on your asses, blissfully ignorant to all the corruption, greed and mass manipulation that you’re being subjected to. Then when the shit hits the fan, you stand up and cry foul about how unfair it all is and how unjust the treatment is. Where was that attitude when they were plotting and scheming? The evidence was all there – all you had to do was look for it. That’s the trouble, though. Society is lazy. Maybe – just maybe – if you’d chosen to stand up and do something about it when there was an opportunity to stop it, things would be different. Instead, you’ll take to twitter and attack Liz Smalls for committing an act of pure cowardice, humiliating the business you love and, in turn, making you all look fucking stupid. It’s all her fault, right?”

Weaver’s question evokes a quick shake of the head.

Saul Weaver: “Wrong. You’re to blame. You don’t have to like what Liz Smalls accomplished tonight. You don’t even have to like Liz Smalls. Just remember, though; when you’re sick to your stomach at the fact she’s an ambassador of this business as a World Champion in this organisation or any other – it’s your fault.”

“The voice of the truth” sighs, feeling a little hopeless at the ignorance being displayed by his colleagues within the industry. He turns towards Smalls, who wears a facial expression that suggests she just witnessed a murder. The shock she displays tells the story: one of her sworn enemies has just defended her, albeit with a backhanded approach.

Saul Weaver: “See you around, Smalls.”

That’s the last we hear from one of Sin City Wrestling’s latest recruits, before he exits the frame. The camera zooms in towards Liz, whose eyes follow Weaver leaving, if only for a moment. The Covergirl then diverts her gaze towards the lens and re-establishes her confident demeanour.

Liz Smalls: “Hashtag… Takeover.”

As has been a running theme tonight, Smalls has the last word.

Fade.