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On the Prowl of Perfection


Jan 1, 1970
“You know for once, I’d like Merritt to say ‘NO’ to the thickheaded idiots that like to incite pissing contests.”

(FADEIN: ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS standing in the library of his home in the Mojave Desert of California. Behind him, a large projector screen displays the GXW Battleground Britain match of Christian Sands and Jean Rabesque. On a table, several laptops are ‘wired’ up with screens of videos of Christian Sands in promos and the ring, others only displaying text – presumably about the subject at hand. The room itself is very dimly lit, a few candles in each corner – a very Asian feel with various art pieces and sculptures. RANDALLS is wearing nothing, but black drawstring pants. The camera focuses on him from a distance – beads of sweat are covering his scarred body, a glass of water in his hand. He takes a sip and puts the glass down, turning towards the camera with a sly smile – as if he’s seen something he knows all too well…)

“I mean, Christian…I can understand that you want to get ahead in the ‘game’. But do you really believe that you look like the bigger man with how you’ve just acted? Its one thing to disagree with a man, Christian…but its totally another to disrespect EVERYTHING he believes in…”

“Let’s face it, you must be grasping at straws with how you’re talking right now. You sound like some eighteen year old rookie that just cause he’s got the best physique, he thinks can kick anyone’s ass. Piss on my salvation? Go to f*cking church?”

“Listen Sands, if you’re going to mock me – at least be innovative, at least get creative. You just gave me seven minutes of ‘Hey Mike! I’m gonna kick your ass!’ (RANDALLS mock hisses) Who the f*ck are you? The Earl of Doom? Sid Vicious? At least tell me you’ll find salvation in this business through cheap liquor and even cheaper women.”

“I like to laugh.”

(RANDALLS’ smile completely fades away, leaving nothing but a cold stare into the camera lens.)

“…and you’re NOT funny.”

“You just sound like a stupid f*cking kid.”

(RANDALLS picks up the water and paces towards the projector screen, while taking a sip he nods at the ‘footage’ in front of him.)

“See, there’s something I’m still NOT understanding. IF, every time you step in the ring and go out there to prove you’re the best…if that is why, you Christian Sands…came to the CSWA…cause as I’m watching this match against Rabesque, I see someone capable of putting on a 60 minute match with a decent mat technician…its not like I’m not doing my homework, I thought I explained that to you.”

(RANDALLS puts the glass down and turns around, still with no smile on his face…)

“Why the f*ck did you bring Autumn out?”

“Why here? Why now? Why in your FIRST big match in this league?”

“See, I understand that nothing matters but the win and loss to you, Sands. I GET THAT. I’m just failing to comprehend why you’re doing so in an attempt to prove you’re the best. If you really have proved this everywhere ELSE, why all of a sudden are you so quick to run for cover in the CSWA?”

“Before your legs were even cut out, you were leaping for any crutch possible when you walked in. And yeah, yeah, yeah…you were on the new blood bandwagon before you even got here…well, here’s something maybe you should learn…since its obviously apparent you didn’t know. The best DON’T jump on bandwagons. Hell, I would’ve hoped you realized that after Dan Ryan taught you not to join groups named after higher deities...although, I do find it amusing that you still think of yourself as one. Then again, you never got over that ending did you? It makes me think of how you’ll deal with looking quite the mortal man against the Wolfie…”

“Forming the stables in the SCW, joining one here so soon in the CSWA… And, yeah…I’m supposed to believe you learned against Hornet, right? This is just a one-time deal…”

“The question I’d like to ask is did you underestimate him, or did you expect to fall flat on your face alone?”

“And if so, if you’ve come to the CSWA as your landmark…what I am supposed to now expect when I’m the only ‘landmark’ that could possibly be higher than Hornet on the totem pole? You may have learned your mistakes against that man, but you don’t have a clue as to what you need to know when it comes to me. See, you wanted the best, Sands….you want to prove you’re the best…”

“It’s a shame you’ve acted so f*cking ignorant cause you’re wasting the ONLY chance at honorably facing THE F*CKING BEST… I’ve had more 60 minute match epics than you’ve had birthdays. IF you paid attention, you’d know I just had one LAST week. Hell, I’ve held more World Titles than you’ve had birthdays. Yet, I’m only twenty-nine…what’s that? 5? Maybe 6 years older than you? Old-timer at 29?”

“No, Christian…I just don’t piss away my time.”

(RANDALLS starts gazing over his laptop screen, looking over some text on the screen…)

“Now, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you’ve got big enough balls to step out there by your lonesome – the question is do you now have the guts to back up everything you just said? See, I’ve gotten this peptalk from Kevin Powers, before…then he happened to like taking a barbed wire baseball bat to my head and hooking the tights...and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you followed in one of your mentor’s footsteps.”

“See, while we’ve both made it abundantly clear that this match is all about your rise to the CSWA top…now that we’ve both confirmed that all that matters is that you’re gonna piss on each and every person on the way up there…”

“Its time you learned a little about Mike Randalls…”

(RANDALLS moves away from the screen and focus directly on the camera, his emerald eyes not wavering as he steps closer…)


“I’ll break that hand of yours in 3 different ways so fast before you ‘unzip that fly’ that you’ll never wrestle again. Hell, ask Kevin Powers how long one of those bats keep me down and if you want to stick around for the aftermath.”

“You want to wrestle against someone that knows 75 different versions of an armbar that could injure that previously f*cked up shoulder of yours? Well guess what? You’re looking at him. See, the difference between myself compared to Dan Ryan…Hornet…whoever is keeping you down this week…”

“You’ll NEVER forget the hell I put you through for calling me out.”

(the camera closes in slightly…)

“G.O.D or no God, you may be entering the classroom for the most important lesson you’ll ever be taught. See, you may be big…you may be one f*ckin’ badass in EPW or the GWE…but understand that you’re talking a game you’re NOT ready to play. That’s why you’re still touring the alphabet soup leagues making a name for yourself, while I’m seeking out of the finest WRESTLING competition the world has to offer. And don’t’ get me wrong, Christian. I know you’re good, I know you’re f*cking damn good in that ring.”

“But right now, you’re walking around like a blind man in a house of knives. I want you to remember your match with Jean Rabesque, I want you to think about all the battles you’ve had with Dan Ryan. Now, I want you to picture a war that moves twice as fast and hits three times as hard. You think Rabesque’s Figure 4 hurt your knee? Ask ‘legends’ I’ve faced what it was like to hear their own kneecaps pop after two minutes in the Devastator.”

(the camera finally stops closing in as the picture only shows RANDALLS’ face, his eyes wide and focused, sweat still dripping off his brow…)

“I know where my limits can take us, Christian. I also know where your limits may hinder you, when I try to bring us this perfection you seek. I know that I’m not perfect, I also know that if you weren’t such an egomaniacal, masturbatory little kid about this…you’d know that what I’ve done in the past is the exact reason I’m searching for Salvation in the present.”

“So, I’ll dispense with the honor. I’ll forego the humble path I normally like to take these days in deference to my opponents. Because its quite obvious you’re nothin’, but a loudmouth punk that’s watched that Eminem movie too much to realize that burns are cheap, while actions speak a whole lot louder than words.”

“Such as THIRTY World Titles vs. ONE. Such as dozens of careers ended vs. how many? Bring yourself, or bring a whole ****ing army of new blood – either way, you’re about to enter the den of the most painful place in the Wrestling world.”


"Just be sure as you walk in, that you stop sucking yourself off so hard…otherwise, you won’t see when my foot breaks through your mouth."


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