Anthony: So MJ got his ass handed to him again? Hmm…seems like a ritual wherever he goes.

Shorty: Ant…

Anthony: Seriously. You and I ever got our asses handed to us like this? Nope. It’s quite sad.

Shorty: Give it a break. How you feeling, MJ?

MJ: Like murdering someone.

Anthony: Finally, the little shit gets livid.

Shorty gives Anthony a light hit in the chest and shakes his head in disbelief. Glacier smirks, as MJ looks angered. Glacier finally saw a bit of aggression from whom he considered, a mama’s boy. He just hoped his sons had a bit more anger and viciousness in them if they ever decided to get in the ring. Every other damn week is like a soap opera with MJ. “Poor Hazel this…I’ll get my revenge that”. Lame. It’s one thing to defend your ladies’ honor but MJ has been on an emo-trip since Hazel got her ass handed. “MJ’s fault anyway”, Glacier thought. Anthony never had that happen to his wife because no matter how stupid a wrestler was they knew better than to put hands on his family. They knew Glacier wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t be bitter. He wouldn’t be depressed. They knew he would be in the ring or backstage the next fucking day beating the living shit out of them. Glacier couldn’t understand MJ at all. Scenes fade away.

Location: Harlem, New York
Scenes open up to Rucker Park, one of the most legendary basketball courts in the United States. Apparently, there is an event taking place down there: A pre-summer basketball tournament with several people standing outside the cage watching as well as sitting on the deteriorated benches. The crowd cheers as each team gets warmed up from the sidelines. One of the people sitting on the bleachers is MJ. Wearing a green jersey resembling one of the team’s he likes, he just watches quietly as everyone else around him are either talking or just being annoying. He scoots over one space and his friend, wearing the same jersey, sits next to him. The teams hit the court. With the tip off, the game begins. After going back and forth from steals to blocks, the other team finally scores. After a few minutes, the team with the green jersey finally is beating the other team with a ten-point spread.

MJ: JD, where you going?

JD: You see that fly bitch over there?

MJ: Dude. Chill. She looks like she’s already taken.

JD: I don’t give a fuck. He can get his ass beat if he got a problem.

MJ: Don’t bother because I can already envision me having to run down there to save your skinny ass…again. Isn’t this the same predicament that got you in that fight the first time?

JD: Damn, nigga. Chill. Like I said, I…GOT…THIS.

MJ: Sure…

It should probably be noted that JD is not skinny in the sense of MJ-type skinny. MJ has muscle; just a slender build while JD is just skinny with barely any muscle. Just enough for him to move from point A to point B. Literally, the kid has as much muscle as a local skateboarder. JD has a big head but barely anything to fill it up with. The only reason MJ is even friends with him because they used to play on the same block before MJ moved to the suburbs. MJ had a bit of an elitist attitude towards ghetto people and didn’t care if anyone was upset about it or not. JD walked up to the young Puerto Rican girl, chatting her up. She smiled back at him innocently. MJ looked back at the game as he came to watch basketball not a ghetto romance novel in action. By the time he had got back to watching the action, his team lost its ten-point spread to two. All of a sudden he heard a female scream and turned around to see a man punch JD right in the face.

MJ: Shit! I knew this would happen!

He jumped off the bleacher and ran towards the crowd. After pushing his way through, he saw JD with a bloody nose and skull as a man stomps on his chest with his Timberland boots. MJ slings one punch into the man’s face and he falls down. MJ helps JD up and drags his near-comatose body across the court and towards a nearby parking lot. His Chrysler 300 was nearby. He finally dragged JD, while cursing at him for his stupidity, to the car. Opening the back door, He drags JD into the back. As he is about to get into the driver’s seat, he sees the guy coming. Well not just the guy, but also his crew as well as his “innocent” girlfriend who was flirting with JD right behind him. MJ could easily beat the shit out of the guy but he also had to think about if the guy was strapped. Fuck it, not worth it. He gets in and drives off before they reach him. They yell out expletives and threats as he drives off. While he’s driving he’s yelling his own words.

MJ: JD, what the fuck did I tell you? You’re fucking bleeding all over my seat. Why? Because you’re dumb ass can’t keep your dick in your pants for an hour to watch a basketball game? I don’t even believe this shit just happened. I should have fucking left you there to get your ass killed. Your going to get yourself killed over some girl you don’t even know? Wow, you must really not be addicted to breathing. I swear it must be genetics or stupidity because there is no way in hell I’d end up fighting over a woman I’ve only known for a minute just because I want to get laid.

JD: Nigga…stop hating.

MJ: Don’t make me come back there and show you what real “hate” is. I have a match in Germany; I got enough possible bloodshed on my hands. Now you?

JD: Uhhhh….

MJ: Don’t you dare die my car! You’re not worthy of such media. We’re near the hospital; try not to move too much. That’s more blood for me to clean up when I get home.

JD: Nigga, you cold…

Annoyed wasn’t what exactly described MJ…more like livid and ready to kick JD into the after life. MJ had finally arrived at the hospital, parking in an emergency spot. One paramedic looked at his a bit weird until he opened his back door. The cigarette dropped from the paramedic’s mouth as he looked on in disbelief. He ran into the hospital and a few minutes later, about two more of them came…rushing to JD’s aid. They pulled him out of the car and placed him on a stretcher, carrying him quickly into the medical facility. MJ just leaned against his car, rubbing his head in disbelief. A black man pulling up into a hospital with another bloodied black man in his car never looked good especially if the first black man looked more annoyed than worried. Soon the police came and looked around the truck. After looking at all they could, they walked up to MJ and started to ask questions.

Policeman: Sir, if you don’t mind…I have a few questions for you.

MJ: Sure, go ahead.

Policewoman: What happened today that caused you to carry a nearly dead man in the back of your truck to the ambulance.

MJ: That man is my friend, JD. Joseph Dawson. We we’re at the Ruckers basketball event and he flirted with some guy’s chick, even though I told him not to, and the guy gave him the greatest ass kicking to date. I had to drag the guy off and drag JD into my car and they were still heading after him. I had to haul ass out of that parking lot and to the hospital.

Policeman: All right. Your story seems to check out. Try to keep your friend out of trouble.

MJ: Will do once I get back from Germany.

Policewoman: Germany? What is a kid like you doing in Germany?

MJ: Wrestling internationally.

Policeman: Oh, nice. My kid always wanted to be a wrestler, now he wants to be lawyer. Apparently he loves to argue like hell…especially with his brother. Pretty sweet gig if you can handle the pain.

MJ: Yeah.

Policewoman: See you later.

MJ: Later.

The police officers got into their squad car and drove off as MJ surveyed the damage of his backseat. He drove the car into a parking space, got out, and went into the hospital. A nurse signaled for him to follow her. He does and she walks into a room. When he enters the room, he sees a bandaged JD lying on the bed looking at him as if he were looking for sympathy from MJ. MJ just cocked his eyebrow at him in disbelief and took a seat nearby. The nurse checked his blood pressure and placed an I.V. bag nearby. She injected a needle into his arm that hooked up to the bag and MJ watched as the fluids went through the tube. The nurse left the room as MJ looks a little annoyed but mostly tired. JD is just lying there as if he had seen a ghost, he had yet to get used to being injected which is sort of good since most people on his block are either crack heads or drug dealer. MJ got up and surveyed the aftermath of JD’s beat down then began to talk.

MJ: A year ago, this would have me trembling and shaken to see you or anyone for that matter in this state. Admittedly, you’re right. I’ve grown cold. Cold as Glacier or Conrad or anyone who has seen bloodshed in their life. It’s my profession. As a wrestler, many times I’ve been admitted to hospitals or had to go to one to see my stable mate. It’s difficult but hey, shit happens. You did what you shouldn’t have. You crossed the line. Just like Conrad did when he put hands on my girlfriend but I won’t drag you through a sob story. The moral of your story is sometimes you need to let well enough be. I here a lot of people talk about “pushing the envelope”. Yeah, push it up you end up with a cut deeper than an emo’s after a melodramatic break up. Like you, JD, Conrad couldn’t let a professional feud stay professional. He brought in my girlfriend and now I’m going to bring him so much pain that he’ll realize it wasn’t worth doing in the first place.

JD: MJ, man what the…

MJ: Shut up. Shut up and listen closely JD. You’re in a hospital because of your lack of common sense to let things be. You thought you were the shit…no one could stop you. No one could touch you. You got stopped. You certainly got touched to say the least. Your fate is not rare, as another man will suffer it. Another man named Conrad Valentine. He will be sharing the same fate come Collision Course. And for what? For a cheap advantage…attacking me and throwing pictures of Hazel on me while I lay there in pain. An idiot only crosses me once. Because the person who crosses me twice usually never lives to tell the tale. I don’t play “games”, mind or otherwise. The only thing I play is my song. When “My Symphony” comes on, you don’t celebrate. You don’t cheer. You quietly sit down, nervously wondering whose ass I’ve come to kick today. I have a lot of patience and Conrad has worn it thin.

I can be the first to tell you nothing ever comes good out of me in a blind rage. How many times have I fought back and forth with Conrad? How close was I to getting my ass fired by Adam? You tell me when have you seen a change for the better when I’m in a foul mood. It takes long to get me there but when I’m there, God help your ass when I get a hold of you. See Universal title or not, I plan to settle this problem with Conrad once and for all. I don’t plan to walk down to that ring and wrestle him. Oh no. That would be too kind. That would be too nice a repayment for him. I plan to beat the living shit out of him. Anything that brings him pain brings me closer to vengeance. What better way of making him feel what Hazel and I have felt by slamming his face right into a steel cage in front of his home country of Germany. Trust me, after Collision Course…there will be no Conrad Valentine to speak of.

JD: What this got to do with me?

MJ: Nothing. I have to wash your blood off my car seat I’ll be back.

JD: Yeah, let’s just shove THAT in my face AGAIN.

MJ shakes his head in disbelief and walks out of the room as scenes fade away.