Eliminated by a man who wasn’t even in the battle royal to begin with. How annoying. Now I have to face a man who just joined…like a two weeks or so ago? I really need to get back in rank. This is embarrassing to say the least. I’m still working on who is the mystery guy that attacked me. I know he was working under Silkk but who? My girlfriend told me to let it go, that it is probably a one-time thing, a paid henchman. But something tells me it’s just more than that. A man with that physique isn’t any no-name henchman. Yes, he is about the same size as me but I’ve seen guys my size and they aren’t cut like this mystery man and me. It’s been working on my mind and I have to try to push it to the back burner as I do have a match coming up soon. I can’t afford to lose to this new guy. Focus, man. Focus. There is a time and place for mystery solving and this isn’t it. Time to get back to work.

Location: Home
Scenes open to an air-conditioned room. Inside are an oak wood desk and a few bookshelves. The typical office feel. Lying back on the chair, with his feet on the desk, is MJ. He has on a blue tank top and white basketball Wizards shorts. He looks a bit distressed, probably still wondering what his next move would be given the recent attacks by Carrington. A quick look over at the time and he realized it was early morning. He had contacted a few people he knew to find out about the mystery man, against his girlfriend’s wants. He wrote Hazel’s pleas off as a person who knew nothing about the wrestling business and now awaited a call with some kind of information. He scratched his head and patiently waited. Soon he heard a few light steps and someone opening the door of the office. He awoke from trance and looked over to see his mother walking toward him. She rubs his head and smiles down at him.

Janice: My baby boy…sitting in his dad’s office thinking about life.

MJ: Mom, I’m not a baby anymore and I’m not just sitting there thinking about life, I’m thinking about my next moves in SCW. I’m waiting a tip that will lead me to this mystery person. I need to find this guy if I want to level the playing field. Anonymity makes people and their actions bolder and bolder as time passes. For all I know this same man can attack me this week and cause me a career-threatening injury. Silkk is out for my blood and I have to take precautions if I want to continue living wheelchair-less. So maybe dad was right. Silkk didn’t turn on me right away but months later his betrayal is catching up to me. Just when you think you know who you are and what you stand for…the past creeps around the corner questioning everything you thought was fact. I thought I was Shorty Jr. I thought I had cleanly separated myself from Syndicate, now returns Silkk and now I’m questioning did I really get the stable out of my head.

Janice: Your life…what is your life, MJ? You keep on trying to push SCW away. You keep trying to disguise your love of the sport through your accounting career and Hazel. Maybe it’s time you realize that SCW has become your life and what you’ll be defined by. Whenever you’re not in SCW, you think about SCW. You talk about SCW. You watch it every Wednesday and Thursday night. That only happens when you’re not on the road with them. Your father and I knew the minute you won Majestic gold that your life would be dedicated to the sport. We saw the look in your eyes, Michael. Ever since you lost that title shot you pretend to not care but we all know you do. We all know it hurt you and we all know how it killed your spirit but it’s time to revive that spirit and go ahead with life. You can’t spend the rest of your days in New York, sulking about what could have been. What happened has happened, now it’s time to move on.

MJ: …You’re right. As usual.

Janice: That’s my boy. Head out to New Mexico on Wednesday and show them how it’s done.

MJ: Will do.

She kissed him on the cheek and headed out of the room. MJ knew she was right. One thing, though…he had no plans to let SCW define him. He was going to define SCW and what it stood for. Supreme was actually going to be supreme, not a bunch of 12-year-old girls in the back crying for title shots or how unfair it was that others had it. He was going to show SCW the true meaning of hard work and intensity. Could this be the revival of January 2008 when MJ just could NOT be stopped? It was funny to MJ that the hype James Exeter has now was the same hype he had last year, two Majestic alumni from their respective generations showing SCW veterans what it truly means to reign supreme. It amused him to no end that it took new blood to bring the standards of SCW up but coming from a family of athletes, he knew that would happen in no time. He knew that it was time for SCW to remember why he’s the God of Wrestling.

Location: Home / New York University
Scenes come back and alarm is heard going off in a room. It’s late morning and MJ fell asleep in the chair. He wakes up, wiping his eyes, yawns, and stretches. He holds his back in pain when he gets up. Sleeping in a chair isn’t exactly the best way to keep your body in shape. MJ looked over at the time, it was about 9 AM. Not bad. He had classes in the evening, thankfully. He walked over to his room, which was next door, and turned off the alarm. MJ wished he could jump into his bed and sleep for a few hours but unfortunately, that luxury was for those who had no life and no responsibility. After a while in the bathroom, a change of clothes, and some breakfast he headed out the door. He got into his Chrysler 300 and drove off to school. He finally arrived and headed into the building. Next to the board for all the activities of the day was Hazel, looking at it. MJ walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She pushed him away.

MJ: Hey, it’s me.

Hazel: I know it’s you. You have a lot of nerve hugging me after the fact you went against what I asked you to do and continue this wild goose chase.

MJ: Wild goose chase? You mean finding this mystery guy? Babe, you don’t know the half.

Hazel: Yeah, I know as much as you do.

MJ: Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. What’s going on with you? You never used to care about this detailed things in my career.

Hazel: Ever since this guy attacked you, you have been trying to find out about him non-stop. You won’t eat right or even concentrate on things that matter just because you want to hunt this guy down and you don’t even know if it was just a one-time thing.

MJ: THAT, my lady, is why I have to find out who did it. To make sure it was just one time and I won’t see that punk again, also give him an ass kicking in return too.

Hazel: Revenge. Isn’t that why you are in the situation you’re in right now? Because Silk wanted revenge against you now you want revenge against his un-named assailant. What are you going to do to find out? Have them shake down the entire SCW for it? Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to avoid since you joined Majestic? Avoid being considered a thug? Avoid being called a “nigger”?

MJ: Hazel, watch your…

Hazel: My mouth? You are scared shitless to do wrong because you always fear being categorized as one. Isn’t it the truth, Michael? But you are so pissed now that you could care less. Am I hitting it right on the head? Tell me.

He looked her in the eye and just turned around and walked away. What was he going to say to that? He grew up trying to be the opposite of what his father used to be. His father was a thug, a gangbanging drug-dealing piece of shit who was lucky enough to learn the craft of boxing from his father (MJ’s grandfather) as well as learn how to wrestle. MJ knew that his father had caught a lucky break and that’s why MJ is where he is at but in the same breath he still wanted to avoid being what his father was. He made sure to stay away from that crowd growing up. Once he knew himself and was comfortable with his identity, or thought he was, he became a wrestler. Some could say, “well didn’t MJ hang with Syndicate”. MJ didn’t look at Shyne, Silkk, and Liana as that. He looked at them as wrestlers first and foremost: wrestlers who mastered their craft while he was just learning it. It didn’t matter he still didn’t want to be a thug.

Accounting Teacher: Now class, we have an exam coming up soon…

His monotonous voice went on as MJ thought about what Hazel said. He had always led his life by the rulebook. Did he fear the rules? The consequences of getting in trouble? He couldn’t tell you but it was the fear that gripped most human beings. The fear of going outside the lines. Since young, we all learn to draw inside the line. We get harassed by other kids if we don’t do as they do. We play follow the leader. It instills a sheepish behavior in all of us, to keep us all in line. The bullies check the nerds. The jocks check the bullies. The preps’ cash flow and power checks the jocks. The pecking order. We all follow it whether we know it or not. Disloyalty to the pecking order finds you in jail or getting your ass beat by the football team. That’s the way of life and that’s how MJ followed. He knew when to pick his fights and when to sit his ass down and listen. Maybe Hazel needs to see that as well, the pecking order is looser for females.

Pecking order did not apply to this feud, though. Order and any other thing linked to sanity went out the window the minute Silkk cost MJ his chance at an SCW Championship title shot. Every time he envisioned Silkk, he envisioned breaking his jaw with one punch. He didn’t just want to wipe the smirk off his face; he wanted to destroy his face completely. Ugh…he needed to focus on his class. He needed to make sure he had something to bounce back on if SCW didn’t work out…what the hell is he saying? His mother is right; he’s been in SCW for a year. He’s going nowhere. Why act as if this accounting degree would ever be used? He had no clue why he continued this attitude. Fear to show he gave a shit about wrestling? Fear of going against the pecking order? Humans are naturally gripped with fear, hence the laundry list of ridiculous phobias. MJ was no exception. He knew that and he had to get over his fears.

Accounting Teacher: Mr. Johnson. I know you thoroughly enjoyed my class, it must have been what you were daydreaming about the whole time but class is up.

MJ: Huh? Oh crap. Sorry.

Accounting Teacher: You’ve been day dreaming a lot lately. I suggest you snap out of it as another exam is coming up.

MJ: Oh?

Accounting Teacher: If you were paying attention, I announced it at the beginning of class.

MJ: Ah. Sorry about that.

Accounting Teacher: If there is something you need to get off your chest, there is a counselor on campus.

MJ: Uh okay.

A little confused at the idea his teacher would suggest he see someone about his daydreaming, he got up and walked out the empty classroom. He had two other classes to go to for the day. Next was Math. As he headed toward the class, he saw Hazel again. She had two friends next to her; one of them pointed out MJ was nearby. She looked up, scoffed, and walked off in the other direction. The friends looked at MJ, with their eyebrows cocked, and walked off in Hazel’s direction. MJ could only shake his head and walk into the class. It was a bit early, a few more minutes until the bell ringed but MJ didn’t care. He didn’t feel like dealing with Hazel’s bullshit when he has enough of his own. He placed his book on his desk and hunched over, resting his head on it. The teacher was in the same room organizing her papers. All MJ could do is yawn and hope these classes would end soon.

Location: Back Home
Scenes open to late evening where MJ sits on the steps of his back porch with a can of Pepsi in his hand. He’s wearing his basketball shorts he had on earlier but no shirt. A little wind passes by as he looks out on his backyard. Some talking can be heard in the house, more than likely his parents. He had to get himself focused for his upcoming match on Breakdown. He was talking on some Irish guy named Louis Connelley.

Shorty Jr.: I know this Louis guy is probably looking for a foot up by beating me but any plan to stop me now is one not worth going through with. If Louis’ wrestling career is going to be anything like his singing career, I hope he stays in his hotel room on Wednesday. America has pretty low standards, for everything. Singing, obviously if this kid had any kind of success. Wrestling, Lawler still has a job. But I’m not America, I’m me and if he is going to come in thinking that one flip here and one suplex there is going to beat me, he is in for a hell of a surprise. I’m sorry to hear that Louis’ dad left him and he decided to sing his blues away but ask Mister SCW, coming from another career into this business is nothing to laugh at. Where is that football guy anyway? He’s not here. Know why? Cause he wasn’t built for this and if a football player can’t hang what makes Louis think he has a chance?

What? He’s going to smash my head with a guitar? He’ll do nothing because he’s nothing. His sister may be a “Musical Prodigy” but this isn’t a High School Musical. This is SCW and he’s looking at a wrestling prodigy and third generation athlete. It’s not about being cocky when it comes to me, I’m simply pointing out the truth. He can get upset and declare he will beat me because of his “Irish blood” but an anger problem flowing through your veins is nothing if you don’t have the skills to do something with it. We can all get angry but this isn’t a bar fight and even if it is, I’d still beat him hands down because I don’t bullshit around in the ring. Ancestry does you nothing unless you plan to make grandpa come out of the morgue to help in the fight. Once Louis learns that wrestling skills not heritage wins the in-ring fight maybe me and the rest of the SCW roster will take him seriously. Until, he’s just another cheap joke at his own expense.

MJ sipped some more Pepsi and got up. He stepped back into the house and sat on the floor in the living room, with his legs crossed Indian style, watching television. He knew he had to hit the gym tomorrow, he probably should head to bed early but he didn’t feel like it. What he really wanted to do was head over to Hazel’s and ask her who implanted that stick up her ass that has her acting like a prick. He shook his head as scenes fade away to black.