(FADEIN to the empty streets of the north end of Hartford. Anarky sits on a graffiti-covered bench, smoking a cigarette. He stares out at the desolate areas. A single bodega is closed and covered in bars.)
ANARKY: “Game don’t change. Game always stays the same. Me… well, I’ve been changin’, I suppose. Not the man I was yesterday. Won’t be the same man I am tomorrow.
“Still, the game don’t change. Y’know how I know that, Layne?
“Cause you came out here and did the same ol’ f*ckin’ song and dance as everybody before you. You think I didn’t hear this sh*t before, Layne? You think you’re so clever?
“Heirs of Wrestling said it. Karl Brown said it. Fusenshoff said it.
“What have I done lately, hm? What have I accomplished? Why do I keep coming up short?
“Well, Layne, perhaps if you’ve spent a little more time paying attention to the people around you and a little less time jerking off while watching videotapes of yourself absolutely STORMING the TV Title Scene, you’d realize what I’ve been doing.
“But you’re just like Karl Brown. You only see the glitter of gold around the waist. The only accomplishments you understand are in title reigns. You’re just… like… everyone… else.
“So every week… every round of this f*cking tournament, I have to explain, AGAIN, that I don’t give a f*ck what the Layne Winters of the world think about what I’ve accomplished in Empire Pro. I don’t give a f*ck if it doesn’t impress you.
“You know the last time someone pinned me, Layne? Do you?
“Of course you don’t. Cause you’re too f*cking stupid and ignorant to pay attention to anything but you. And I’m not going to tell you, because quite frankly, I don’t CARE if you know. *I* know. And for me, that’s enough.
“I didn’t ask for credit, Layne. You misunderstand. I get all the credit I need in the ring. Every time I get to slap around some punk b*tch like you, some ungrateful, whiny little child… that’s all I need to accomplish.
“But I’m done with that, Layne. I’m done sitting by and watching people like you come out here and pretend like you are something new and fresh, cause you ain’t. You’re the same ol’ song and dance as always.
“You come out here, and you list your f*cking resume, and you tell me how great you are, and how you should be the Champ, and blah blah blah. Never heard that one before, Layne. And you tell me how I ain’t sh*t. Yeah, I get it. You ain’t scared. Nobody’s ever scared, Layne. Nobody is ever convinced of anything.
“You think they never called my number, Layne? Please. If I wanted the Title shot, Layne, I’d ask for it. Simple as that. I certainly f*cking earned it. But I don’t NEED it, Layne. I’m not like you. You crave the attention. You need people to know what a big man you are.
“You’re just another nobody out here tellin’ me I’m a freak in facepaint, crackin’ jokes about the Karate Kid and tellin’ me I ain’t done sh*t. Well congratu-f*cking-lations, Layne, I’ve never heard any of those before. You should join the Heirs of Wrestling with that material. You’ll go far. I promise.
“The truth is, Layne… I’ve grown weary of the bullsh*t. You beat a few TV title contenders and suddenly you can’t stop waving your d*ck at the screen. I mean, for f*ck’s sake, man, you act like such a badass, but the moment something doesn’t go your way, I know you’re gonna go cry like a little b*tch.
“Y’know how I know, Layne? Cause you’re just like everybody else. You subscribe to the same notions of success. You can’t take a beating. You can’t take a loss. ‘Cause in your tiny little brain, you actually believe – you actually believe that you’re the best wrestler in this league. You believe it. Sean Stevens believes it. First believes it.
“F*ck… Karl Brown believed it, the Heirs of Wrestling believed it, High Flyer believed it, Fusenshoff believed it.
“You all f*cking believe it. It’s f*cking pathetic. I’m here with a bunch of f*cking children who think they redefined the business because… well, I don’t really get that part. Because you crack a few jokes? Cause I haven’t impressed you?
“How lucky for me. To be in the same ring as the great Layne Winters. Slayer of Gods. Beater of Nobody Who Mattered.
“Up until this moment, Layne, I didn’t really give a f*ck about your self-aggrandizing behavior. I don’t give a sh*t if you go kick down Dan Ryan’s door and demand a title shot for beating Karl Brown that one time. It meant NOTHING to me.
“But see… while I was advancing through this tournament, you were busy making excuses about why you couldn’t put Erik Black away. And now you find yourself here. Just dumb luck. Stumbled ass-backwards into a shot.
“And now, Layne, now it’s MY business. Because, quite frankly, I don’t think your type of childish behavior should really be rewarded. You had your chance. You f*cking blew it. You got excuses. Everybody’s got excuses.
“Fine. You got your second chance. A little angel came and gave poor ol’ Layne Winters another shot to be the King of the Cage. Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.
“You’re right about one thing, Layne. Sometimes the bad guy does win. But you, my friend, are no bad guy. You instill fear in the heart of nobody.
“You’re just a petulant little whelp who stumbled through a tournament he lacked the skill to advance in. You’re an asterisk. A parentheses.
“So talk your talk, Layne. Tell me how little I’ve accomplished. Explain to me how the business works, kid. Drop some f*cking wisdom.
“It don’t matter. Come the KOTC Finals, I’m going to do what I’ve been doing. And it might not impress you. It might not impress Dan Ryan.
“But it’s enough for me, Layne, and believe it or not, that’s enough.
“Don’t worry, Layne. I don’t expect you to understand. Nobody else did, either.”
(FADEOUT.)