[Kristopher Ryans]

 A Mile High - Over The Atlantic
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4 May 2015 (5:06 PM)  
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On-Camera [Flight Back From Morocco]

The scene opens with Kris sitting in front of a laptop. There is a bright light shining onto his face, and illuminating the area in front of the screen. It doesn’t take the audience long to figure out that they are sitting in front of him on the tray attached to the seat in front of him on an airplane. The light shining on him is the small individual overhead light, that is also way too powerful, next to the air conditioning vent above him. The surroundings seem quiet, as members of the staff move up and down the aisles checking on those on the flight. Kris smiles widely at the camera and then shrugs.

”I was going to wait until I got back to the states to actually say anything to you guys, but then I figured, why wait? By the time I touch down and get settled in Los Angeles, all of you will have had days to dissect the show in Morocco, and will have undoubtedly come to your own conclusions about the result of my match. You people will say that I cheated. Some of you might say that Kain’s shot at the title was stolen away from him unfairly. Even more will likely talk about my cowardice, and the fact that I should not be proud of winning that match how I did. So why should I sit here, bored out of my mind, on this flight and not say anything? Why should I give you the satisfaction of forming your own conclusions before I tell my side of the story? I have all of the time in the world to burn right now. I think I should use it to put your comments to rest before they even begin to rain down on me.”

A stewardess stops by Kris, and he raises a hand slightly, waving her off before she can even ask if he needs anything. He rocks back in his chair, which the viewers can see is not at all like the ones in coach. He scans his surroundings for a second and then turns back to the camera.

”The only person that cheated Kain, is Kain. If you people will remember, I told him in the match where I took his title that I would do anything to take that title away from him. I said, very plainly, that if there is a shortcut in a match, I would take it. I ranted about how there was nothing that I was not willing to in order to walk out a champion. I echoed that same message in the two weeks leading up to Morocco. I emphatically reiterated the fact that there were no rules that I would leave unbroken. I forewarned Kain on three occasions  and told him to prepare for all possible scenarios. Is Kain more deadly than I am in the ring? Probably so. I don’t have any real training in this stuff. I make use of my own natural ability and wing the rest as the situations dictate. If that were the only thing that I had going, I am not a threat at all. It is the mere fact that I do not feel burdened by rules that makes me a big pain in the ass. Now, I told Kain that three times. Each time he ignored my messages. Each time he ranted on in the same way that he does every week, and we were all meant to listen to the “King of Kings” when he was talking, even though he didn’t give a shit about what we were saying.”

Kris raises both of his hands to give his previous opponent’s nickname its own hint of sarcasm. Although, instead of looking like his regular self, he seems mildly annoyed at the fact that his messages weren’t received.

”That is the reason that I am holding this title still. Sure, I could sit here and claim that Kain would not have one the title because it was going to be a countout anyways. I could say that his win would be meaningless because he wasn’t walking out of the building as a two time champion, regardless of what may or may not have happened to him at the end of the match. The fact remains though, I don’t have to make excuses, because I told him my gameplan from the very start. Some of you might think of what happened as dirty, or cheating, but is it really cheating if you tell someone that you are going to do it? I personally dont think so. I gave him the opportunity to correct his behavior. Either he was too stupid to pay attention during his little hissy fit about losing the title in the first place, or he validates my Nobody persona by saying he never paid any attention to what I said in the first place. In either case, it was his fault that he lost, not mine.”

He reaches forward, adjusting the camera on the screen so that the viewers can look around the cabin. There are individuals reading in the few seats that are filled, and a couple that are watching something on their laptops. When Kris turns the camera back towards him, he sighs.

”I think that I am going to have my money on the fact that he didn’t listen to a word that I had to say in our promos building towards Mayhem in Morocco. Why? Well, because I have been talking to you guys this whole time and not one single person has looked up from what they are doing to notice the crazy guy talking to a computer screen. My voice is apparently just as invisible as my presence. I don’t know if you guys caught that, but I literally had to fight my way into the arena, in order to fight to retain my championship. Was anyone going to cry foul if I lost? Would any of you of made the excuse that because I had to go through a security guard before my match, that if I lost I wasn’t 100% when the bell rang? Of course you wouldn’t have. Kain lost because of the person that he is. I won because of the person that I am. There is nothing more to it than that. I told Kain that if he didn’t listen, that he wouldn’t win. He didnt, and I am still sitting here champion. I don’t know who SCW is going to be throwing at me next, but let’s hope they get their listening ears on before bell time.”

Kris shrugs again, with a smile and reaches forward, tapping a button on the keyboard and killing the video feed.


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San Diego, California
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9 May 2015 (10:06 AM)  
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Off-Camera [Union Bank of California]
[Grey Italic Text is Inner Thoughts]

This may be the first time that Jason has ever been a passenger in my car. I can’t help but feel like it is entirely my fault too. Honestly, I am surprised that Elena didn’t lay into me when she got here. I knew my father was dead two days ago. I made an excuse to be in San Diego so that nobody would question exactly why I was taking a day trip down here. I didn’t tell him. I wasn’t going to tell him. Not yesterday. Not today. Not ever. The car pulls off of the highway, and Kris looks over at his older brother, who stares blankly out the window. The bruising on his face was still pretty bad and his right arm was in a sling. It was easy to tell by his labored breathing that the inside of his body was beaten up pretty bad as well. However, just looking at the expression on his face would have led people that didn’t know him to think otherwise. To them, it may look like he was even in mourning, but that wasn’t really true either. When they called me and told me, they asked if there were any other relatives that they needed to contact regarding his death, and I had lied and said that there were none. I suppose legally it was a lie, at least. In reality, this man had been dead to us for two decades already. Normally people hide things because they want to protect someone from grief. That isn’t why I did it though, but I couldn’t hope to explain that to Jason. When I got the phone call, I was relieved for all of one second. Then it hit me. The person, that I had focused every shred of hate that I felt for this world was gone. I couldn’t wish all of the hateful things on him that had normally gotten me through the day anymore. It was just nothingness. What am I going to do with all of this rage now? Who knows. I will figure it out at some point. Jason though, he has family. He has a pregnant wife, a slew of stepchildren, and more than a handful of people around him that he holds close. If I took away the outlet of his hate, how much would that shorten his fuse for the people that are left around him? I didn’t want this dead bastard to take anything else away from us. If Jason thinking he was still alive was going to give him that one thing to drive all of his negativity towards, than I was willing to shoulder this on my own. I was sparing his family from having to deal with that. However, Jason always finds a way.

The black sportscar whips around a few turns, and onto a main road. Jason sighs, and then grimaces in pain. He readjusts his position in the chair while Kris acts like he doesn’t notice. Jason flipped out and drove down here angry. That anger that I didn’t want him to have to blow off on anyone else, got hurled at his car. I couldn’t even hazard a guess at how much money he dropped into it. Even worse, I didn’t want to think about how many different things on it probably made it illegal to drive. He blew through the wrong red light, trying to catch it on a yellow, and now it doesn’t matter how nice that car was. It flipped, and then slid on the roof a few dozen feet while spinning in circles. The driver that hit him was driving a truck that was built like a city bus, so of course he was okay. Jason was flying around in a little tin can of a car. It was totaled. When the newspaper got hold of the pictures yesterday, it was hard for people that saw them to accept that he was actually unhurt, for the most part. Yet, since I arrived at the scene, all the way up to this moment, I have not seen him appear even slightly angry. He just seems, complacent… and I am not sure if that is better. After crossing an intersection the car turns right, into a parking lot, and pulls into a space. The large building in front of them is the single place that the lawyer had mentioned as part of the will. It was a bank, inside which was a safety deposit box. It was all that was left of their father. Kris kills the engine of the car, and looks over at Jason. The lock eyes, and the older of the two brothers nods and they reach for the door handles at the same time. The sun hits their eyes and both of them squint towards the Union Bank of California, with hesitant looks on their faces. Kris shuts his door, looking down at the center console as he does, the box of ashes from their father’s cremation sitting inside. We didn’t even have a service for him. Nobody would have come, and if anyone did, it would have likely just been a person in the wrong place at the wrong time, looking for some other dead person. We didn’t have anything to say about him. When the guy at the crematorium said that he could say a few words, Jason gave him a look that told him all he needed to know. The lawyer waited outside while the two of us sat there, watching through the grate as our father was burned to ash. I don’t know about Jason, but it was something that I had waited to see for almost twenty years. In my most pleasant dreams, I was sitting there in front of that furnace, watching flames rip him apart. It was a lot more satisfying actually getting to be awake for it.

The two head towards the door of the bank, with Kris reaching out to take the handle, and holding it open for Jason who uses his only movable arm to reach into his pocket and produce a key. The lady behind the counter greets us with a welcoming smile, and before she can open her mouth, Jason holds up the key. Her eyes catch it and she moves to pull up the correct screen on her computer for us to gain access to the box.

Bank Teller
What is the name on the safety deposit box sir?

Jason places the key on the table in front of her, and then slides it across, not fielding the question. He had made a promise to himself a long time ago, that the name would never again come out of his mouth. Kris wasn’t so theatrical about his hate though.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
William James Halich.

The teller nods and punches the keys on her board, pulling up their father’s account. She reaches across the table, and takes the key, matching the numbers on it to the numbers on file and then muttering the actual number to the box under her breath a few times to get it right. She starts to move down the counter.

Bank Teller
If you two would just follow me. I can take you right to it.

Kris holds his hand out in front of himself, motioning for Jason to lead the way. He passes Kris and tails the teller from behind the counter to a room next to the actual vault of the bank. She first unlocks the gate leading into the room with a set of keys attached to her hip, and then moves to the actual box. She unlocks it, and pulls the container from the wall, placing it on the table in the middle of the room. It is no more than eight inches wide, and probably two feet deep. She places the key in the lock of the box and nods at the two of them.

Bank Teller
Well, I will leave you two gentlemen to it then….

She awkwardly steps in between the two and then out the door. She doesn’t head immediately back to her position on the counter though. Instead, she takes a seat at the end of the counter, just out of range of hearing and line of sight of the room. Clearly, she aims to lock everything back up once they are done. The brothers pay her no further attention though, moving to opposite sides of the table. Kris reaches out and turns the key on the box, and takes a deep breath. Noticing his hesitation, Jason finally finds his words.

♥Jason Halich♥
What’s the problem, Kris? You aren’t actually concerned about whatever is going to be in it are you? Lets just get this over with and put it behind us. This is the last time that we do anything for him.

Kris looks down at the box, and can’t find the willpower to turn the key. He reaches out for it again, and pulls it from the box and places it on top of it.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
I don’t want to know.

Jason’s face wrinkles up in confusion. He shakes his head a few times before he can produce any words.

♥Jason Halich♥
What don’t you want to know? I mean we already know everything about this piece of shit that we could ever hope to hear. Nothing in this box is going to change any of that. I say we clear it out, find a dumpster on the way back to the car, and toss all of it without consideration. What is the problem with that?

Kris puts both of his fists, knuckles down, on the table and presses them into it hard to suppress his rage. Once he feels like he can talk without raising his voice, he does so. His eyes meet Jason’s before a sound can pass through his lips, and when he does speak, his tone is calm and collected.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
I don’t even want to be his trash man, Jason. Come on! You got in a car wreck last night stressing out over this asshole. I honestly could not hate him more than I already do, and I know that you feel the same way. You have a pregnant wife waiting on you at your hotel. You have Haley practically about to pop a baby out in Seattle right now. What is opening this container going to do for either of us?

The look of confusion doesn’t leave his face. He shrugs again.

♥Jason Halich♥
I don’t know what you are trying to say, Kris. You are going to have to give me more than that.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
I see the contents of this box going two ways. Either we open it, and the bullshit in here just reinforces our understanding of this man, or it doesn’t. We could open this box and see the child abusing, molesting, cheating, drunken psycho that we both hate, or it could be something else completely. My question is, why bother?

The confusion finally starts to fade from Jason’s face and he nods. He thinks it over for a second and then a half smile forms on his face.

♥Jason Halich♥
What you are saying is, there is nothing bad enough in this box that could make us hate him anymore than we already do. At the same time, if there is something in this box that is a positive, then it is going to fuck up your whole picture of him. Instead, you are saying that you are content to hate him forever.

Kris doesn’t hesitate to nod in agreement.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
Is that going to be a problem for you?

Jason picks up the key from the top of the container and looks at it. He turns it around in his hand a few times before coming to some sort of realization.

♥Jason Halich♥
I don’t want to know either. You know, I can remember back to when times weren’t so bad. If I had to guess, you can do that too. However, after all of the things that he did to us, all of the abuse, all of the nights that we didn’t have power on at the house, or food to eat, none of it matters to me. No matter what little piece of goodness I can pull out of my memory, it doesn’t come close to making a dent in the hatred I have for him, Kris. So, you’re right. We could open this box and a fucking rainbow could come out of it. It will never be enough. We can add up all of those scattered memories and it wouldn’t change a thing. Why would we open it and give him the opportunity to make us doubt the person that he is, even for just a second. Fuck him, Kris. You’re right. I don’t even want to give him the benefit of taking his shit to the dumpster.

Kris nods, and looks around the room. For once the two of them were in agreement over something that actually matter. It had been a while and was a strange feeling. Maybe watching their father burst into flames like he was being welcomed to hell with open arms was a bonding moment for them. Then the realization hits Kris, and he looks at Jason for a response.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
So how exactly do we go about doing that?

Jason opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then scratches the side of his head with the key to the box. He moves around the table, and then out of the room, stopping near the lady that had allowed them to go in.

♥Jason Halich♥
What do you guys do with boxes that never get claimed? Like people die, no relatives, no living will, that kind of thing. Do they just sit there forever or what?

The woman turns, and her eyes widen a bit. She bites down on her bottom lip in thought, and then comes up with the only response she can think of.

Bank Teller
Inevitably, everything inside the box would be destroyed. The boxes are rented and the annual charges come out of the attached account. If the account becomes delinquent for nonpayment, then it gets sent to a collections office. If no response is received, such as in the death of a person without anyone left to manage their estate, we basically destroy everything in it.

Jason turns to Kris and shrugs, his eyes questioning Kris to see if he thinks it is reasonable. Kris nods and comes the rest of the way out of the room. He stands next to his brother and looks down at the woman with a smile.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
Then I think we are done here, thank you.

Jason closes his fist around the key, and the two move away from the door as the woman looks inside and sees the box still on the table, untouched. She moves inside, as the two brothers make their way to the door, and exit the bank. Just outside, there is a small garbage bin, and Jason drops the key inside of it and then pats Kris on the shoulder.

♥Jason Halich♥
That bastard is officially gone now. No loose ends. He can’t get at us now.

Kris laughs, but it is uneasy. He turns and looks at his brother as they walk over to the car, his tone low and serious when the words come out of his mouth.

♧Kristopher Halich♧
One down… one to go.

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Algeria
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15th May 2015 (5:47 PM)  
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On-Camera [Side Streets]


The sun is beating down hard on the pavement. It creates a blinding effect on the camera as the glare comes from both the sky above, and the reflection off the ground. Kris is center frame, walking along yet another back alley in another foreign country. However, today he has chosen to forego the hoodie. Just in looking at him, viewers can see why. Sweat is rolling down his cheeks from under his sunglasses. His hair is disselved, likely from heat as well. He starts to walk as the camera starts to roll, and forces the cameraman to follow at his side.

"I knew that I would hear it. I tried to stop it before it got rolling. People spouted off with the same nonsense anyways. It seems like everyone is jumping on the Kain bandwagon. I am not going to be bitter about it though. It could be worse. I could be standing here in front of you about to face Kain for the third consecutive time if management decided it was profitable enough. Apparently beating a guy for his title, and then having a title defense end in a no contest is not very conclusive. It doesn’t much matter to me though. Around the time that the show ends on Sunday, all anyone is going to be saying about Kain is how some young kid beat his ass, and how he never should have been in the title hunt if he lets things like that happen to him. He will be embarrassed. I might not have to step in the ring with that mouth breather ever again. His career may be headed straight down the shitter. I will just be happy to be the one that kicked it in that direction. Soon enough, my critics will long forget the time that Kain was champion. He is just going to go down in the books as the guy that held the title until the day they gave me a shot. Then again, I am a Nobody, so maybe he won’t make the record books at all, considering I probably won’t make the cut."

He continues to move down the alley, grazing his hand along the wall of the backside of the buildings as he goes, similar to what he did in Morocco.

"I signed up to SCW because I hated traveling around the United States with the company that my brother started. I really just wanted to chill in one general area. Touring the world is probably my least favorite part of this gig, but I still manage to find places that I feel at home in. I mean, you people have noticed that I am always surrounded by the same kind of things here. I am always in an alley. I am always surrounded by the regular people of society. It is good to know that things, no matter where you are, do not have to change. I just wanted to make the trip up to Vegas once a week to do my thing. I guess I should have read the part of the contract that said I had to tour the world all year. I was never one to stress over details though. It hasn’t stopped me from doing my thing though. If you guys have been paying attention, I have to be one of those names that is on the top of the SCW newcomers or break-outs lists. However, again, Nobody status kind of says that won’t be the case. Not that I am not okay with that. I get it. I don’t have the look that people in this industry look for and I am not one to go out in insane matches every week and bloody myself beyond recognition. Contrary to popular belief, I am damn good looking, in my own opinion. I don’t really want to get disfigured. I mean, otherwise I would never be able to convince security that I am not just a janitor or stage hand."

He stops and leans against the wall, facing the camera. He pulls the aviator sunglasses off of his face, and smiles.

"You know me, always one for segways into what I actually want to talk about. This week, that person is Goth. See, blood and brutality seem like they are this guy’s bread and butter, and now he gets a shot at the SCW Internet Championship. To be completely honest, the things that happened in SCW before I showed up are kind of a mystery to me. Sure, I am picking up some of the pieces as I go along, but they are few and far between. This guy Goth had one hell of a match in Morocco. Like, when I first saw that I was booked against him, I was scared. The dude lost a ton of blood, took a heavy beating, and still put a guy through a table to win a match. That is not something that I see myself as personally capable of doing. I like to pride myself on being a guy that is hard to put down, but the amount of blood left in the ring was kind of scary. Naturally, coming off a match like that the guy can’t be 100% but, this is a triple crown champion we are talking about. They are effectively standing a Nobody in the way of a guy hitting the Grand Slam. Am I not allowed to say that I am intimidated, or scared? Scary performance in Morocco inside the ring, and all of the accomplishments that I will probably never reach in this company make for a terrifying matchup."

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth as his eyes widen as much as they can. He takes a moment, looking towards the ground, appearing to doubt himself. However, after just a moment, he looks up, a smile on his face.

"I am allowed to be intimidated, and I certainly… was."

He clasps his hands in front of his chest and kind of rubs them back and forth a little, finding a mental rhythm for the words he is about to unload.

"Was. Past tense. As in not any more. See, I looked at the guy’s accomplishments. Those are kind of intimidating. I looked at his last match. That was downright terrifying. Imagine the hesitation I faced when it came to watching the guy’s promos. I should be shitting my pants in terror, right? Wrong. I had to sit through ten minutes of this guy bitching about how he is a drunk, nearly blind, shell of someone who used to be decent. In fact, going into the match the guy’s only request was that his opponent put him out of his misery. This is the kind of person that we are handing title shots to now? I mean, I am not going to complain because they handed one to me, and I am a Nobody. At least I own it though. I come out here and talk, knowing that there aren’t going to be many people that listen to what I have to say. I go out there in the ring knowing that there are probably hundreds of people in attendance, and thousands watching that are taking a piss break. I don’t whine and complain about it. I don’t come out and say that since I am so irrelevant, someone should just cripple me to get me off the roster. In fact, I actually told Kain last show that if he did cripple me, I would still come down to the ring in a wheelchair with a computer to talk for me. I told Kain, and I told however many of you fans listened, that even if I was a broken, crippled, shell of the Nobody I am today, I would still show up. I didn’t beg for someone to put me out of my misery. Why? Because I have the balls to do it myself. Don’t believe? Google search my name around last Christmas when they brought me back to life against my will in December."

Kris shakes his head and pushes away from the wall, stepping close to the camera. Typically this is the time that he does his signature push to topple the camera man and walk away as the camera breaks on the ground, but instead he puts his face right in it, and stares into the lens like he can see Goth watching him through it.

”I may never be as accomplished as you. I may never be as hardcore as you in that ring. I may never be recognized on the street for the person that I am. However, the thing that raises me above you is that I actually want to be here. It sounds like you want to be face down in a bowl of soup, bleeding all over a table. Either that, or maybe in some drunken coma in a ditch on the side of the road on a rainy night when a dude just happens to overcorrect and head your direction. I bet you wouldn’t even see that coming. [laugh] You are going to talk about how you are going to take this from me. I can tell by what I watched you say to Shipman that you can’t take it. You don’t actually want it because you don’t actually want to be here. On the other hand, I want to carry the SCW Internet Championship because every moment that I do, a Nobody has a chance to be a somebody. You are a relic. You are irrelevant in your present state. You won’t be 100% come time for this match, and even if you were, you don’t want it bad enough to take the title from me. By design, by cheat, or by dumb luck, I am going to beat you. If you want, maybe I will put you out of your misery afterwards if you ask nicely.”

If the cameraman rested easy when Kris came close, and didn’t issue him a shove, he certainly felt stupid now. Kris shoves the camera with both hands, and harder than ever before. The camera moves straight back, and the impact of both the man, and the camera can be heard against the wall before the lens dips and the camera impacts the ground, cutting the feed to black.