Monday November 16th
Aboard Dynasty One
Off the coast of Havana, Cuba.
It was a bright clear day, with a solid blue sky bathed with sunlight that splashed all over the top deck of Dynasty One. As the luxury super yacht sat stationary off the Cuban coast, the sound of two water skis in the distance, breaks the silence. Leaning against the railing is the SCW Internet Champion, looking out towards his wife Pamela and valet Vanessa, who are both riding circles around the yacht.
It was a great life, all the money he could ever want, and a beautiful woman to share it with. He was even getting paid to act like he was on vacation by refusing to show up at SCW events, instead sending his attorney Marshall Owens to speak for him. For the last couple of weeks, he had stuck it to the powers that be, giving ultimatum after ultimatum to not only Christian Underwood, but Mark Ward as well.
Sporting a smile on his face, Sean just continued to lean on the railing, knowing that both Mark and Christian would have no choice but to cave, to give into his demands. After all, both of the SCW co-owners knew that during this past calendar year, there hadn't been a more consistent star anywhere on the roster, that when it came to performing week in and week out, no one came close to the Mental Rapist Sean Jackson, no one.
As both jet skis came around for another pass, both Pamela and Vanessa are wearing bright-colored one piece swim suits that expectedly hug their features, but also makes them easy to spot in case of any freak accidents. However, Sean isn't the only person looking on from the top deck as another person had taken up position, keeping a close eye on the two females. Scott Cooke, the man in charge of Pamela's security team was also paying attention to the location and safety of both women. Pamela for obvious reasons, being the daughter of oil tycoon Cameron Duke, and Vanessa for the not so obvious reason.
From the front of the yacht, Scott had a perfect 360 degree view of anything possibly approaching from any direction. With the high-powered binoculars, he could see from horizon to horizon, which meant he could easily see the object of his forbidden desire, the beautiful Vietnamese vixen who had stolen his heart many months ago.
Once both jet skis take their current lap in front of the yacht, Scott catches an object approaching from the direction of the Cuban coast. Concerned, he points the binoculars in that direction where a helicopter is leaving from the Cuban mainland and heading their way. Instinctively, he picks up a radio and makes contact with the bridge.
Cooke: "We have company, look alive people."
There is a moment of silence from the bridge and as Scott begins to reach for his sidearm, a response crackles back over his radio.
Bridge: "I'm being informed it is Mr. Owens returning from a meeting."
Relieved, Scott takes his attention from the sidearm and begins to make his way towards the bridge. As he does, Sean is completely oblivious, instead awaiting for the two women to come back around for yet another pass of his location, giving him another view of his wife.
Cut to a view inside of the helicopter where seated in the back, Marshall has a worried look on the face. As an Advocate for the Internet Champion, it was Marshall's duty to get his client's message across, to do Sean's bidding without prejudice, and now he was heading back to Dynasty One with the worst news possible. In his hand was a large envelope, containing nothing less than an ultimatum from both Christian Underwood and Mark Ward themselves, basically laying down the law to the rebellious Internet Champion.
Prior to his meeting with the SCW owners, Marshall never thought the situation would get this far out of hand. He thought that Mark Ward would come to his senses, that he would give his client everything he asked for and more. But the envelope represented something entirely different, for it was proof they had seriously miscalculated the resolve of Mr. Ward when it came to his company, and the allegiance to someone like Lord Raab.
In other words, all hell was going to break loose the moment he landed on Dynasty One.
Pilot: "Mr. Owens, we'll be landing in a few minutes."
The attorney nods his head slowly. At this particular moment, he wouldn't mind just going back to Havana and forgetting the whole thing. But, he couldn't do that to his client. No, he had to deliver this message, he had to make sure Sean wouldn't do anything stupid.
Owens: "Okay."
Looking down at the envelope, he takes in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. It doesn't help.
Owens: (under his breath) "He's going to blow a gasket, I just know it."
Cut back to Dynasty One, inside the bridge where the captain is manning the navigation. Standing next to him is Scott Cooke, who is monitoring the radar as well as any radio chatter coming from the approaching helicopter. Being a former special forces operator in Iraq and Afghanistan, Scott was a master in just about every facet of radar and communication, but sat back and listened as the captain and the pilot both bantered back and forth with the approach and landing pattern. Once the approach path was determined, Scott reaches for, and activates the bellowing bull-horn type alarm, notifying both Pamela and Vanessa it was time to bring the skis in. Once their attention is diverted to the alarm, Scott steps out and points towards the approaching chopper.
With a simple nod, both make their way to the rear of the yacht where a few moments later, they are safely back on board. Not lost on this is Sean Jackson, who too notices the chopper's approach and makes his way towards the small helipad by walking thru the bridge.
Cooke: "Mr. Jackson, it is Marshall returning from Havana."
Acknowledging the security chief with a nod, the Texas native makes his way thru and towards the helipad. As he does, the chopper's door opens and out steps Marshall, still holding the envelope. As the chopping sound of the blades ripping thru the air continuously echos against the outside wall of the bridge, Marshall bends over slightly as he makes his way to the bridge himself. Once cleared of the blades, Sean gives the thumbs up and the rotors begins to pick up speed, creating lift for the helicopter as it starts to clear the luxury super yacht.
Stepping back into the bridge, Sean is still sporting that million dollar smile as he places his hand on Marshall's shoulder, guiding him inside as well. Confident that the SCW hierarchy has caved to his demands, the eyes of the Mental Rapist makes their way down to the envelope.
Jackson: "So they finally caved and gave me Raab?"
Before Marshall gets a chance to respond.
Jackson: "Excellent. Now I get to put an end to this so-called monster once and for..."
He never finishes as Marshall turns to face his client, the facial expression on his attorney's face tells a different story, a story of disappointment.
Jackson: "Marshall?"
Taking another deep breath, he is searching for the words to soften the blow. However the silence is something Sean doesn't want to hear."
Jackson: "Marshall?"
Sensing the answers are in the envelope, Sean snatches it from his attorney's hands and steps out of the bridge and towards the rear of the yacht. As he rips open the envelope, Marshall is right there, starting to plead his case.
Owens: "I tried every argument I could Sean, they just wouldn't budge. I told them you wanted..."
Tossing the envelope to the side, the SCW Internet Champion begins reading the fine print, page after page of it.
Owens: "Lord Raab, but neither would give him up. They said you were contractually obligated...."
The more Sean read, the madder he got.
Owens: "To defend your title against Kris Halc this Sunday in Costa Rica."
Spinning around, the Mental Rapist is now staring daggers through his so-called Advocate.
Jackson: "I gave you one job Marshall, ONE. You were supposed to deliver an ultimatum, you were supposed to secure Raab's head on a silver platter, and you come back with THIS?"
He shakes the paperwork at Marshall before throwing them down on the deck.
Jackson: "This isn't worth wiping my ass with. How dare you bring this garbage to me Marshall? How dare you even leave from that God damned office without securing what I sent you for? Well I'm not standing for this, if they aren't going to give me what I want, then this tour is over..."
Storming towards the bridge, Sean immediately begins waving his hand in order to capture the attention of the captain.
Jackson: "We are done here, let's head home."
Owens: "Sean, you can't."
Spinning his head around like the little girl on exorcist, the Texas native isn't playing games. He could do whatever he damn well pleased and nobody was going to tell him otherwise. Especially an attorney who couldn't even do ONE JOB correctly.
Jackson: "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do. I am Sean Jackson, I am the SCW Internet Champion, and I'm the best wrestler on the face of the planet. I can go home any time I want, and I'm going to prove it."
About that time Pamela and Vanessa appear in the bridge from the solid glass elevator. As they do, Scott quickly motions for Vanessa to follow him back into the elevator. With Vanessa following the security chief, Pamela moves out of the bridge and to her husband's side.
Owens: "You don't understand Sean. If you don't appear in Costa Rica to face Halc, they will strip you of the title and suspend you."
Now that was the last straw. How dare Ward and Underwood answer his ultimatum with one of their own? don't they understand who in the hell runs that damn company? did they even care?
Jackson: "They wouldn't dare. I am Sean f'n Jackson and I can do whatever the hell I want to do. If I want to head back to Texas, then I can. They can't stop me from doing a damn thing, so I don't want to hear that..."
Owens: "Damn it Sean, this isn't a joke. You weren't there, you didn't see the drama you've created, you didn't hear the words coming out of their mouths. Christian has every intention of stripping you and if that happens, they will have no problem handing down a suspension, ruining any chance you have of getting Raab in the ring..."
Marshall shoves his index finger repeatedly at his own temple.
Owens: "Think Sean, think. You can't get Raab if you are suspended. They can and will ban you from every SCW event, from every SCW arena, from..."
The Mental Rapist has heard enough.
Jackson: "Alright...alright....enough. You're starting to sound like my father-in-law."
Now it is Pamela shooting eye daggers. Even though she doesn't say anything about the negative dig on her father, she is clearly upset about the comment. Once the engines are started and the luxury super yacht begins to move, the current SCW Internet Champion realizes Marshall is correct and motions for the engines to be shut down.
Jackson: "Okay, you win. Now what?"
Realizing that these moments are few and far in between, Marshall takes full advantage in getting his client back on track. Actually, he has formulated a plan, that if done right, would carry the biggest impact of 2015.
Owens: "We go to Costa Rica, and you defend the Internet Championship against Halc. But, we don't just to there to have a wrestling match, we go there to flip the wrestling world upside down. We throw down the ultimatum of all ultimatums, we throw SCW in total chaos and believe me, with what I have planned, you will be the hottest free agent on the roster..."
The words free agent definitely catches his attention.
Owens: "It is called the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and it is sure to make BOTH Christian Underwood and Mark Ward stand up to take notice."
The Mental Rapist begins to stroke his chin. The term isn't lost on the Dallas, Texas native as he has heard it numerous times before. However, now it was taking on a different meaning as thousands of thoughts began to flood over him.
Jackson: "ACW versus SCW?"
As Marshall nods triumphantly, a smile begins to form. His client was now getting it, a way to bust down the door in order to get exactly what he wants. There was a power struggle within SCW, and it wasn't just between the owners, it also included specific roster members who either aligned themselves with the Monstrimals or Drake Green.
Jackson: "Marshall, you're a genius."
In cutting to a different part of the yacht, the Vietnamese bombshell Vanessa was in her state-room, changing behind a vanity partition. Also in the room is Scott Cooke, who is seated in a chair directly across from the partition. From his location, Scott could see her silhouette cast against the wall from a lamp close by. She was beautiful, there was no denying it, and after months of trying to ignore what was in front of him, he could do it no longer.
Stepping from behind the partition, Vanessa was now wearing a very revealing white bath robe, a semi bow tied in the front.
Vanessa: "Can I get you something to drink?"
Her voice, soft and seductive, was music to his ears. She was beautiful, stunning even, there was no denying that fact. His heart starts to race as he nods.
Cooke: "Yes, thank you."
With the smile returned, Vanessa walks over to the bar and begins to pour a couple of drinks. She had a past, there was no denying that, but for the first time in her life, she was now in total control. As a child, she was ripped from her family in a tiny Vietnamese town and sold into prostitution in Thailand. She remembered her family, her entire town slaughtered by radical islamic terrorists who brutalized her on a daily basis even before sending her to Thailand. It took a long time to get to this point, because until now, she had only trusted Sean and Pamela.
As she walked across the room, her eyes became fixated on his. She found herself scanning his face, searching his soul, analyzing the man she had been in close proximity with for months. She had millions of opportunities to observe his professional demeanor where it pertained to the security of Pamela, but now she was sharing an intimate moment with him, in her room, and her heart was also racing.
Handing him one of the drinks, she kneels down between his knees, never once breaking eye contact. Not a single word was spoken, it wasn't needed as both continued to share the moment of silence, the magnetic attraction so intense it could be cut with a knife. Her body begins to tremble as she placed a free hand on his knee, not knowing if the move would be rejected. The tremble turns into a quake as his free hand finds its way to her long jet black hair. As he begins to stroke her hair gently, Vanessa's eyes close and her breathing begins to quicken...
The scene cuts to a conference room where the SCW Internet Champion is seated behind a solid oak desk. He is listening intently as both Marshall and Pamela are in a heated discussion about Costa Rica and Halc.
Pamela: "But that's the thing Marshall, you don't know how it is going to play out. Sure, it sounds good on paper, but we all know that no plan is foolproof..."
And she should know. Twice in the span of one year, grubby fingered trashy individuals have put their hands on her, most recently Synn during Sean's feud with Despayre.
Pamela: "So have your ducks in a row before trying to set into motion one of your hair-brained schemes."
Sure Marshall would give her those. In both instances, the situation didn't exactly bode in Sean's favor and even got her father Cameron Duke involved. As if he needed valid reasons to ruin their marriage.
Owens: "Okay, I admit those weren't some of my best ideas, but this one can't fail. We go to Costa Rica, set the world on fire, and then sit back and watch as the offers come rolling in. I mean, can you imagine Sean dropping that bombshell on Sin City, then backing it up by completely destroying Halc?"
Sean was loving it, ALL of it. Every single word was solid gold to his ears, and whether Pamela approved or not, he was going to endorse the idea. In this war of SCW versus ACW, the Internet Champion knew that Mark Ward could ill-afford to let him go to the camp of Drake Green, and vice-versa.
Owens: "It would be poetic justice, from start to finish."
Pamela opens her mouth in order to respond, but it shocked when the words that echo in the room belongs to a man, her man.
Jackson: "You are a genius Marshall, no doubt about it."
A split second after her mouth slams shut, it falls open again as Pamela is completely dumbfounded. Here she was erring in caution, and Sean was jumping in feet first. She is equally shocked as her husband jumps to his feet and begins to usher them out...
Jackson: But now I have something to do. So if you'll excuse me..."
Both attempt to put up a passive struggle to stay in the room, to get an idea of what he has planned, but the Texas native doesn't waiver. He needs the room to himself and as he pushes them out the door, he starts to close the door behind them.
Jackson: "We will get together later for drinks."
Pamela: "But Sean...."
That is the last he hears as the door slams shut behind them. Rubbing his hands together, the Internet Champion moves back to the desk where he activates the camera on his computer. Leaning back in his chair, that million dollar smile begins to form and a video message for Kris Halc is born.
***************************************************
Jackson: "Welcome back Kris, good to see you back in Sin City Wrestling. However, it is too bad Mark Ward and Christian Underwood didn't think enough for your health, to place you in the ring with someone who didn't want to hurt you."
Even though the Mental Rapist is still smiling, it doesn't diminish the verbal threat.
Jackson: "I made my demands known, even Stevie Wonder could see what I wanted, but instead they serve you up on a silver platter. Well Kris, I know you are a tremendous talent or you wouldn't be here, but this match in San Jose is going to be the pure definition of being in the wrong place, and at the wrong time. Now I can say this with one hundred percent certainty, I have nothing against you personally..."
He leans forward in his seat, letting everyone watching the video see directly into his eyes.
Jackson: "I am sure you are a great guy, but I have to prove a point to both Ward and Underwood. I have to show them that my bite is worse than my bark, that I don't make idle threats. Take ISIS for instance, in that Paris theatre, they made due on a promise and now the rest of the world is taking them seriously."
The smile slowly disappears.
Jackson: "So I guess when words are ignored, you have to strike with actions. Which means, this Sunday, I won't be held responsible for my actions. I told Ward and Underwood what they could expect if Raab wasn't given to me, and in my world, a man is only as good as his word, so I have to abide by that. I put Justin Halliwell and Jamie Dean in the hospital, I even put Drake Green on the shelf for several months..."
His eyes now cold, dark, soulless.
Jackson: "But none of that will compare to the massacre that will occur in the National Theatre and you can rest assured, when I line up my knee to the back of your skull, it won't mis-fire. I can promise you that."
The ominous threat is eerily similar to the description from the terrorist who pointed his weapon at the tourist, only for it to jam. It allowed the tourist to escape with her life.
Jackson: "And much like ISIS blames that attack on the rest of the world? I blame what I'm going to do to you on Mark Ward and Christian Underwood. Because it WILL be their fault."
fin.
