Corruption and Anarchy 17.1 Voting and Promo Thread

* * *

The scene opens in Damien's Austin home, a house of not-too-modest size. Four bedrooms, two living rooms, white tiled floors. Damien lays restlessly upon his couch in the larger living room. The television plays a news program concerning a terrorist attack halfway across the planet. He pays no attention, his mind occupied with current events of his own. The loss of the Full Metal Tag Team Championships. His partner's being put on the shelf by Mark Johannson. The revelation of a grandfather he never knew he had. Eliza's disappearance. Jess' betrayal being caused by demonic mind control.

And the return of his nightmare.

He rises to a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. Lost in thought, he doesn't realize he's no longer alone.

"Damien," a voice calls softly from above.

He looks up to see Jess standing in the small balcony overlooking the living room. She is clad in an Iron Maiden t-shirt several sizes too large for her. She looks worried, on the brink of tears.

"Jess," he calls back. "You alright?"

She remains silent for a moment, looking away from Damien.

"Can I," she begins before pausing momentarily, then continues. "Can I talk to you?"

"I was about to get going," he says immediately, only half lying. "I've got a meeting with one of the FMW bookers."

"Please," she adds. "It's important."

Damien sighs, and then nods. Jess makes her way around to the staircase, down, and then into the room. She approaches Damien with measured caution. He watches her do so, trying to keep his face neutral as memories of the past year flood before his eyes. She takes a seat in a chair a few feet away.

"I wanted to ask," she begins, her voice shaking, "why you've been avoiding me."

"Jess," Damien replies, his voice as level as he can manage, "it ain't that simple."

"Yeah, it is. Ever since we got back from Cthulhu-verse, you've been avoiding me like a plague."

"A lot has happened in the padt year, Jess."

"And I can't remember any of it. The last thing I remember is you leaving for Rome to compete in Mount Vesuvias, and then nothing."

Damien looks down at the carpet beneath his feet, mulling over what to say.

"It's not something I care to talk about, Jess. It hurts too fuckin' much."

"And it will only hurt worse and worse the longer you keep it in."

Her words are simple but true. Damien scratches hia head, thinking of what to tell her.

He decides upon the truth.

And he tells her everything.

The look of shock on Jess' face as he finishes the story only adds to his pain.

"No way," she gasps in disbelief. "I couldn't have."

"You didn't," he says. "The demon and Joseph took control of your mind, used you to fuck with me."

"No wonder you avoid me," she says, shivering, tears flowing from her eyes. "My face must bring on so many bad memories."

Damien manages to jerk a nod.

"Oh, god," she groans, starting to hyperventilate.

Damien rushes over and wraps an arm around her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

"It wasn't you," he reiterates. "It wasn't you."

"But it was! My body! My face!"

"But not your heart, mind or soul."

Jess lays her forehead on Damien's shoulder, calming down slowly.

"I just wish things could go back to the way they were," she whispers.

"So do I," Damien replies. "So do I."

* * *

We fade in to a small cafe, only a few tables and a short bar inside a fifteen foot by twenty foot room. The place is empty except for Damien, sitting alone with a plate of waffle fries in front of him. The door at the front of the building opens and in walks Corruption booker Jack Boice. Damien watches him curiously as he approaches.

"Damien," says Boice once he reaches the table. "Glad you could make it."

He offers his hand for Damien to shake, who obliges.

"I was expectin' Devereaux," Damien says. "Bein' that I'm Ammunition and all."

"And there we come to the point," Boice replies, taking a seat. "And so early, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I have some news for you. I've bought your contract from Devereaux. You're on Corruption now."

"What," Damien exclaims. "What about Nick?"

"Gray is going to be out for some time, Damien. Do you really want to just sit around the lower card until he comes back?"

"It doesn't matter. Y.N.G. hurt my best friend and stole our Tag belts. If I have to wait another cycle or another five, I'll get those fuckers back."

"And straight to the point again, Damien. Corruption and Anarchy happen in the same arenas on the same nights. You may get your chance at revenge sooner if you're on Corruption. Just think about it."

Damien remains silent, thinking of the possibilities. Boice continues after a moment.

"I already have plans for you Damien. I'm starting a tournement for a shot at the Ultraviolent Championship. And I'm putting you in it."

Damien picks up a fry from his plate and takes a bite. After chewing it for a moment, he looks back at Boice and smirks.

"Alright. Let's see where this goes."

* * *

We now find Damien in the locker room at the Oracle Arena, lacing up his boots. His long sleeved shirts and gloves are nowhere to be found. Instead he wears a sleeveless Kamelot shirt and a pair of loose-fitting black jeans. As he tightens and then ties the laces, the door to the room opens, and Jack Eastwood enters, not awaiting an invitation.

"Damien," he says, smirking. "We need to talk."

"I'm preparin' for our match, Jack. Shouldn't you be doin' the same?"

"Don't need to prepare. One of my opponents is a bitch. The other is my protege. Not too much of a problem."

"Fuck you, too," Damien replies, suppressing a chuckle.

"All jokes aside," Jack says, the smirk disappearing, "we need to talk."

"I'm so fuckin' popular lately," Damien mumbles. "What's up?"

"I want you to join the Pack."

"What," Damien asks, surprised.

"Is it so hard to fathom, me wanting you in my group? We're already allies. Why not make it official?"

"Ya'll ain't my kind of stable. Too underhanded."

"We just do what we have to to get what we want. If that means bending the rules or breaking the, so be it."

"I wouldn't fit there, Jack. I always try to fight fair."

"Look, Damien," says Jack as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and retrieves a smoke from inside it. "Gray's gonna be out for a good while, and when he gets back, there's no guarantee he'll be sent to Corruption."

Jack puts the cigarette between his lips. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and lights the smoke. He then takes a drag.

"You could use a few guys watching your back," he continues, removing the cigarette. "Especially around here."

Damien stares at Jack, looking for the slightest hint of dishonesty. He finds none, and nods slightly.

"That's true," he replies. "But like I said, ya'll ain't my kind of group. I need to think on it."

"Fair enough. But don't take too long."

With that, Jack places the cigarette back in his mouth, then turns to walk away and out the door. Damien stands up and stretches, popping his back and knuckles.

"Time to kick some ass."

Quote :

I have no idea but it worked! Rotunda turns, MISSES THE LARIAT! BIG KNEE TO THE GUT… CLASS DISMISSED!

HOLY HELL!

ONE…TWO…THREE! THE CHAMPION RETAINS!

Quote :

I have no idea but it worked! Rotunda turns, MISSES THE LARIAT! BIG KNEE TO THE GUT… CLASS DISMISSED!

HOLY HELL!

ONE…TWO…THREE! THE CHAMPION RETAINS!

Quote :

I have no idea but it worked! Rotunda turns, MISSES THE LARIAT! BIG KNEE TO THE GUT… CLASS DISMISSED!

HOLY HELL!

ONE…TWO…THREE! THE CHAMPION RETAINS!

The scene opened to Seth Rotunda, complete with a neck brace, slumped in his seat. His tired eyes squinted at the grainy footage that flashes across a small TV. The footage was of the winning pinfall, Austin snapping Rotunda in two with the Class Dismissed, with some focus on Austin celebrating as Rotunda looked dejected in the corner. Rotunda’s previously furnished apartment now replaced with cheap accommodation with barely any furniture and blank white walls.

I have no idea but it worked! Rotunda turns, MISSES THE LARIAT! BIG KNEE TO THE GUT… CLASS DISMISSED!

HOLY HELL!

ONE…TWO…THREE! THE CHAMPION RETAINS!

Rotunda looked at the arm that was guilty of not connecting with the lariat, the fist that didn’t knock out Austin, his muscles that couldn’t pin down the champion, his legs that did nothing. Anger crossed the brow of Rotunda, lines as deep as the trench of the Somme. His previous match ran through his head…Eastwood’s words, Clarke’s hype, Austin on the backfoot and then…a pinfall. This was followed by being upstaged by Drew Michaels and then dropped again for a silly attempt at revenge. Seth Rotunda has failed to justify the hype, he had failed himself and he had failed as a wrestler.

Aldridge Clarke had ended his services; after all, he had no more reason to still support Rotunda what with the title shot gone. So Rotunda had locked himself away after he discharged himself from the hospital. Hours were spent looking at the footage, hours of regretting what had happened. Ap Gruff had been right, Rotunda was facing his own downfall.


The blue sky and the warmth of the sun were a contrast to how Rotunda felt. Modestly dressed, but with a developing beard that suggested no care about appearance, Rotunda sat in the apartment of a journalist. The apartment was part of the Meridian Tower, the tallest building in Wales that dwarfed the surrounding landscape. The Dream Killer, with the rather ironic nickname, had this thoughts swill around in his head, whether he could accept an interview or whether he could flee from this room and make it back to his place to watch the Jeremy Kyle Show. Perhaps, Rotunda thought, looking at inbred British people could make him feel better by comparison.

Rotunda stood to leave, only for the journalist to enter the apartment. This in turn caused Rotunda’s body language to completely change from a downtrodden mope to an arrogant, free soul. Rotunda had stopped caring about others and didn’t notice any particular characteristics of the journalist other than the fact that it was man. The Dream Killer seemed to stare through the journalist then actually focus his eyes on him.

“Thank you for coming Mister Rotunda,” the journalist said as he seated himself with Rotunda.

“Whatever,” Rotunda carelessly replied.

“Safe trip?”

“I enjoy being a pedestrian,” Rotunda mumbled.

“Right, mind if we begin the interview?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Great,” the journalist said, tapping the button that started his tape recorder.

“So will this be long?” Rotunda questioned.

“It won’t be, now, first question, from amateur boxer to wrestler, how did the transition come about?”

“Well, my poor excuse for an agent that is somewhere in Swansea suggested I hit the big-time by directing my efforts towards wrestling and turns out, I’m pretty good at it,” Rotunda replied.

“And how has it been so far?”

“Well, I've been beaten up more.”

“But you've had your fair share of wins.”

“To go with a few losses,” Rotunda mentioned.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Luck.”

“You’ve said in the past that what you do in the ring is basic and others have described as ‘nothing special’, why do you make of those comments?”

“Look, I’ve never lost a match by attempting something stupid, I’ve never wanted to learn a six hundred degree exploding senton star press or do a vertebra cracking move from the top rope, what I do will simply put you down for three seconds.”

“So, The Pack, how did that come about?”

“At Mount Vesuvius, I arrived, I trash-talked the other competitors, people knew that The Dream Killer was coming to FMW and little did I know, Jack Eastwood was watching me and he had already formed an alliance with Daniel Prideman, so he asked me to join, he wanted me to better myself ,” Rotunda said.

“How does it feel for a rookie though to be approached?”

“It’s scary seeing this six foot-seven motherfuck walking up to you with his slightly smaller friend and asking you to be part of something bigger, I couldn’t turn the offer down.”

“Your next match is against Monroe, who you’ll be meeting him for the third time and you are also undefeated against him, thoughts?”

“Easy, I mean, sure, he was dangerous roughly two years ago, but now he does more jobs than a hooker,” Rotunda joked.

“And beating him will put you in contention for the UV championship, interested?”

“Of course, I’m not used to breaking light tubes over anyone or jumping from a burning ladder onto a twenty foot table but a championship is a championship,” Rotunda said.

“And about your previous match against Chris Aust-“

“Stop right there,” Rotunda ordered.

“Okay,” the journalist said whilst turning off the recorder.

“Cheers.”

“Can I ask why?”

“You’re a journalist, be professional,” Rotunda muttered.

“Technically, it is my job to snoop around.”

“And technically it is my job to punch people in the face and I don’t really want to leave this apartment with the resident holding his broken, gushing nose.”

“Alright, alright, I think I have enough.”

“Well I’ll be going then,” Rotunda said as he moved.

“Thank you Mister Rotunda.”

“No problem,” said Rotunda before he stopped.

“Changed your mind?”

“Actually, if you need a word for Austin then there’s this: I’m coming for him sooner or later,” Rotunda nodded.

“And what if you lose?”

“Then there’s no coming back.”

Loss

The KO of Monroe

Revival?

So Seth lost, FMW almost fell apart at the seams and now I’m facing my mentor and his long-time friend, or whatever. It’s been a crazy few months to say the least. There are problems in this world and I’m not convinced that I’m not a big one of them. Where do I start? There were the freaky blackouts that I kept suffering with. The destruction that followed them, I still think Jack is keeping something from me. And then there was that weird trip where I killed Seth and stole the Gold Card. Well at least I know he doesn’t have it anymore. Maybe those weird things will stop. Oh yeah, then there was this chick.

It had all started after 16.1 Jack and I went out to celebrate the first win as The Pack and my first pin at all. So the night got heavy, I was drunk and well. I’m not proud of how it ended. Like a beast took over me and well I woke up in the morning with a hefty hangover and a large slice of guilt. And I thought that was the end of it.

One month later…

Daniel was sat in his favourite chair. The fire crackled lightly, breaking the silence. He had been enjoying his time out. Resting up, getting his head right, getting back to nature. He’d just finished watching a nature DVD and the menu screen was sat on the television. He was staring blankly at it. Then the doorbell rang. He hauled himself up and padded out towards the large doors. Pulling them open, a girl stood there in a thick coat looking at him. He stared back. Silence once again filled the void.

Sarah: So can I come in?

He looked at her, he couldn’t be definite but he was sure this was the girl from the club.

Prideman: Ermm, I guess.

Sarah: Well I am freezing out here.

Prideman: Oh yeah. Of course come in.

Prideman looked around the hall. Making sure no one had seen the girl.

Prideman: Come with me, upstairs.

He ushered her towards his room quickly, inside he closed the door. He pondered whether to pull the lock across.

Sarah: It’s okay. You can lock it.

Prideman: You sure?

Sarah: Honestly it’s fine.

Tentatively he locked the door. The woman walked to the bed and slipped off her coat before taking a seat.

Sarah: its cold out isn’t it.

Prideman: Yeah. I’m used to it now.

He had to make sure it was her.

Prideman: So err, have we met?

Sarah: Daniel. It’s me. I think the last time you saw me I was naked in an alley and you-

Prideman: Please, don’t remind me.

Sarah: It’s fine.

Prideman: No Sarah it’s not. I was a dif-

Sarah: You remembered my name?

He paused.

Prideman: I couldn’t forget it. I wanted to. But it haunted me.

Sarah: It’s fine.

Prideman: Stop saying that. It’s not. I don’t know what came over me that night but it wasn’t me. I’m not like that.

Sarah: You were drunk.

Prideman: No, I was sick. I was going to ra- do terrible things to you.

Sarah: And you didn’t. That showed strength.

Sarah gets up and walks to him, grabbing his arm.

Sarah: You were so strong, and dominant. I liked it.

Prideman: No. You were petrified.

Sarah: At the time maybe. But I’ve been thinking about you.

Prideman: Look, I am so sorry. I don’t want to be that guy.

Sarah: I had to see you.

Sarah leans and kisses Daniel on the cheek.

Sarah: I want to be in your life.

Daniel shrugs her off him and walks to the door, unbolting it.

Prideman: You need to go.

Sarah: Daniel please.

Prideman: I can’t face this right now.

He opens the door.

Prideman: I’ll show you out.

Daniel walks her to the front door. He opens it and back dropped by the snow he notices her beauty.

Sarah: I’ll see you again.

She flashes him a smile, he tries to supress it but he smiles back. She turns and walks and he shuts the door.

For the next week she stayed on my mind. I couldn’t work her out. Why would she want to come back? Why would she want anything to do with me? Why did I feel so damn mushy around her? Part of me wanted her to keep away. I was scared. I wasn’t sure what of though. For the next six days I waited. Did I want the doorbell to ring? I wasn’t sure, but on the sixth day I’d have the decision made for me.

Eastwood: What the fuck man?

Prideman: What?

Eastwood: You’ve been literally sat on the edge of your seat for the last six days. Who’s after you? Did you piss someone off?

Prideman reclined trying to play it cool.

Prideman: No, no. Not at all.

Eastwood: You know I can read you like a book.

Prideman: Just don’t alright. I’m fine, yeah.

Eastwood: If you say so.

Daniel reclined. It was the most uncomfortable recline imaginable as tension surged through his body. He hadn’t really slept. Sarah was playing on his mind.

Eastwood: You look comfy.

Jack took a long drag from his joint and stared inquisitively at Daniel. At that moment the doorbell rang. Daniel leapt up causing Jack to cough smoke all around the room.

Eastwood: Ahhhh! So you were expecting someone.

Prideman: I’ll get it.

Daniel strode towards the door. The smile creeping over his face again. He opened it.

Scott: Errr hi. I’m Scott. I’m her to see Mr Eastwood.

Prideman: What’s your business?

Scott: I need a place to stay.

Prideman: Jack! It’s another one for you.

Jacks footsteps began to fill the hall.

Eastwood: Alright kid.

Scott: I need a place to stay Mr Eastwood.

Eastwood: Brilliant. Come on in. We’ll call you Mongoose.

Jack placed an arm round his shoulder and led him towards the kitchen.

Eastwood: Right Mongoose, we have some dishes that need doing and the floor is filthy. Here’s a toothbrush…

Jack’s voice faded away. Daniel was left, staring out into the snow. He paused, grabbed his coat and made his way out. Pacing through the snow he had no idea where he was heading. He found in times like this his feet would just lead him to where it was he needed to be. He fancied seeing some nature, calming his head and getting into a good place mentally. She wasn’t coming back. He repeated it to himself over and over, just so it seemed more believable. In the distance he heard wolves, so naturally he followed the noise. Coming into a clearing he saw a figure stood, unaware of the wolves that were circling in. He made his way slowly towards them. Being ripped to shreds by wolves was a death not wished upon anyone. The figure turned.

Sarah: Daniel!

The wolves made their move. Daniel ran towards her.

Prideman: Sarah no! Wolves!

He had to protect her. They were on her for a second before he got to her. Punching a kicking at the wolves he fought them. There were three. He grabbed one, snapping its neck before hitting the other two away. They fled into the forest.

Prideman: Sarah.

Daniel leant over her. They had torn at her leg, she’d be okay he thought, but she’d need to go to the hospital. She’d passed out and blood was seeping through her jeans. Daniel removed his coat and wrapped it tightly around her leg.

24 hours later…

Prideman was sat by the hospital bed. He hadn’t moved all night. He’d just been staring at the girl who’d walked through the dangerous nature to get to him. After all that he had done. He wasn’t leaving her. She stirred.

Sarah: Daniel…

Prideman: its okay, I’m here for you.

Sarah: You saved me.

Prideman: No, I did what I should have. What anyone would have.

Sarah: You fought wolves.

Prideman: Yeah. I don’t like to make it a habit.

She giggled at him.

Prideman: They bit your leg. The doctors say you’ll be okay but you just need rest. I said you’d come back with me.

Sarah: Are you sure?

Prideman: Yeah, this whole things my fault anyway.

Sarah: Don’t do it out of guilt.

Prideman: I’m not. I want to.

4 days later…

Eastwood: Daniel, downstairs now. We need a word.

Prideman: Important?

Eastwood: I said now.

Jack strides off downstairs.

Prideman: I’ll be back in a sec.

Sarah: Okay.

Daniel follows after Jack and follows him into the study.

Eastwood: What’s this all about?

Prideman: What’s what all about?

Eastwood: Don’t play dumb. The chick. You banging?

Prideman: No. She’s hurt. I’m looking after her.

Eastwood: You pussy. The rule is no guests. She’s a guest. The rule is no chicks unless you’re banging. You’re not banging. The rule is, even if you are banging not in the Asylum for longer than six hours.

Prideman: C’mon man, there are exceptions.

Eastwood: Yeah and I make them!

Prideman: This is bullshit.

Eastwood: Get her out.

Prideman: No. Stop being an arsehole.

Eastwood: Then you can leave.

Prideman: Fine.

Daniel storms out of the study and goes back to his room.

Prideman: I’m collecting some bits together and then we’re going okay?

Sarah: Why?

Prideman: I want you to be somewhere safe and comfortable. Give me ten minutes.

Daniel grabs a bag and heads downstairs.

Eastwood: You’re serious about this aren’t you?

Prideman: I think so.

Eastwood: Holy shit. Do you love this girl? She’s the one from the club right?

Prideman: Yeah she is. And I dunno yet. I dig her man.

Eastwood: Look, I’ll let you break the rules. But I’m warning you, something bad will come of this.

Prideman: I dunno that it will. She stays?

Eastwood: Yeah she can stay. But she comes out of your room tonight. I’ll get that Mongoose prick to make us three a dinner. I meet this girl, I approve her.

Prideman: Done.

Daniel looks at Jack, he smiles. Jack gives him a tap on the back of the head.

Eastwood: You’re a soppy git. Guess you’re not gay though. That’s a relief.

Daniel laughs.

Prideman: Gutted are you?

Eastwood: Get fucked Prideman!

Daniel goes back to his room and closes the door.

Sarah: Are we going?

Prideman: Nah. We’re staying.

He sits on the bed beside her.

Sarah: I didn’t fancy moving yet.

They smile at one another.

Prideman: I really am sorr-

Sarah: Daniel. Shhh.

She puts her hand on the back of his head. She pulls him close. They kiss.

And that was how I met Sarah. Two months have passed since then and things were going well. Jack seemed to like her. Then I found out I’d be facing him and Damien Inferno at 17.1. But I have new motivation now. A new outlook on life. I wouldn’t say it was love, but I’m mad about this girl. And for once, I feel normal. No issues, no anger. I’m just focussed on winning because now, I want to make her proud. I don’t care if it’s soppy. I’m going to win the gold and me and my girl, we’re going straight to the top.

Corruption 17.1
LIVE From the Oracle Arena in Oakland, California

Tag Team Match
Antonio Grimelli and Alexis Machine vs Kuruk and Sharpedo King

Corruption UV Qualifier
Steve Monroe vs Seth Rotunda

Main Event
Corruption UV Qualifier
Damien Inferno vs Jack Eastwood vs Daniel Prideman

Anarchy 17.1

Singles Match
Bobino vs Matt Ashburn

Main Event
Anarchy Ultraviolent Championship Match
David GS (c) vs Trey Spraunce

Tag Team Match
Antonio Grimelli and Alexis Machine vs Kuruk and Sharpedo King

Corruption UV Qualifier
Steve Monroe vs Seth Rotunda

Main Event
Corruption UV Qualifier
Damien Inferno vs Jack Eastwood vs Daniel Prideman

Anarchy 17.1

Singles Match
Bobino vs Matt Ashburn

Main Event
Anarchy Ultraviolent Championship Match
David GS (c) vs Trey Spraunce

Corruption 17.1
LIVE From the Oracle Arena in Oakland, California

Tag Team Match
Antonio Grimelli and Alexis Machine vs Kuruk and Sharpedo King

Corruption UV Qualifier
Steve Monroe vs Seth Rotunda

Main Event
Corruption UV Qualifier
Damien Inferno vs Jack Eastwood vs Daniel Prideman

Anarchy 17.1

Singles Match
Bobino vs Matt Ashburn

Main Event
Anarchy Ultraviolent Championship Match
David GS (c) vs Trey Spraunce

Corruption 17.1
LIVE From the Oracle Arena in Oakland, California

Tag Team Match
Antonio Grimelli and Alexis Machine vs Kuruk and Sharpedo King

Corruption UV Qualifier
Steve Monroe vs Seth Rotunda

Main Event
Corruption UV Qualifier
Damien Inferno vs Jack Eastwood vs Daniel Prideman

Anarchy 17.1

Singles Match
Bobino vs Matt Ashburn

Main Event
Anarchy Ultraviolent Championship Match
David GS (c) vs Trey Spraunce

Cut to Trey Spruance smoking a cigarette outside the FMW Corruption arena.

Someone from the press spots Trey and runs over to him.

Pressman: Hey, Trey Spruance! I hear you have a match tonight?

Trey: Jesus fucking Christ you people are like leeches.

Pressman: Any thoughts going into the match?

Trey: Go away, I just wana smoke this in peace bro.

Pressman: It's for the Ultraviolent title am I right!?

The cigarette drops from Trey's mouth as a look of shock comes over him.

Trey: Wait a second... Ultraviolent title?

Pressman: Yeah you've got a shot agaisnt David GS tonight. Any thoughts?

Trey: Fuck... I'm too late too prepare....

Trey walks off away from the Pressman as security bundle him away. He walks to Boices office and knocks on the door.

Boice: Come in.

Trey walks in.

Boice: Yeah?

Trey: Why didn't you tell me I had a match? I figured I was just signing autographs this week.

Boice: I didn't have time and you should have been made aware ages ago. I'm sorry things turned out like this Trey, I really am.

Trey: I gotta prepare. I'll be back in time for the show.

Cut to Trey Spruance drinking a beer by the side of the road whistling a tune. Then Trey hears a voice.

"Some old habits die hard, huh Trey?"

Trey turns around to see a familiar figure standing watching him.

Trey: Well fucking hell, it's Drew Michaels!

Drew: You gotta try for this one Trey. Go out there and put on a show at least. You owe it the company that has pretty much kept you alive all these years.

Trey: I know you're right. If it wasn't for FMW I'd be dead in the gutter.

Trey finishes his beer and lights a cigarette. Inn between puffs he comes to a stupid conclusion.

Trey: Hey, Drew, you wanna buy some Speed?

Drew:: You know I'm not about that shit Trey...

Drew sighs and looks at his old com-padre.

Drew: Are you selling again Trey?

Trey: Yeah... Gotta keep making money you know what it's like.

Drew: Just think of it this way, you could make more money by winning a belt.

Trey: i know, but that's not damn easy. Itt also happens to be a belt I deeply respect.

Drew: So earn it tonight. Go out there and show them that you can do it. Show them that you're not just a jobber to be laughed at and a guy that has to sell drugs on the side to get by.

Trey: Alright man, I will!

Trey gets up and walks back to the FMW arena, Drew slips back into the shadows he came from.

Cut to static...