time: late thursday night

day: january twenty fourth, oh eight.

place: bailey's bay, bermuda; engel residence.

(Trapped in a hellish dream)

(Spinning past worlds unseen)

(And frightfully vanishing)

(Into the dark eternal night)

(Awake. I was daydreaming again, about what life was like and how it is now. I feel a bit of a frown and then an incessant stare. I slowly turn my head to the left and find Mia staring at me, a killer look in her eyes. She overshadows me, burning her eyes through my soul. Somebody didn't keep their mouth shut.)

VIRUS: What?

(She rolls her eyes at me. I know damn well why she's mad. There's something about guys that make us act innocent when we've wronged our women.)

Mia: You know damn well why I'm pissed, Matt.

(See?)

Mia: I can't believe you're going back.

(Yes, it's true. I signed a contract with PWA earlier today. I did it for family, if that counts.)

VIRUS: No you can't. You've told me numerous times how you wished I wasn't obsessed with the sport anymore. I told you already why I'm doing this.

Mia: She can take care of herself, Matthew!

(I look away for a moment. I can't take this right now.)

VIRUS: Maybe she can, maybe she can't. But if something happens to her and I'm here in fucking Bermuda unable to do anything about it, how am I supposed to live with that? Give me a fucking break, Mia. I love you, Alexia, and my whole family. That includes ENIKA!

(Mia looks down, confused and upset. She knows he's being noble, but she can't help but feel selfish in wanting him to stay.)

Mia: You haven't forgotten last year, have you? We went through the counseling; we did the dance. You want to put everything in jeopardy again for the slim possibility that something might happen to her?

VIRUS: Why are you doing this to me? It's a done deal, Mia. I can't change it. She needs my support.

Mia: Sometimes I really think you don't even care about us. She hasn't spoken to you in forever, Matt, and then after being with her for a few days you're running back to the business again?

VIRUS: I don't care about you? About us? If you really think that, then you need to leave. Right now. For the past year I have done nothing but be everywhere for you and Alexia. I get a shot to step back into the ring and, more importantly, watch over my baby sister and you condemn me for it.

Mia: I can't handle it this time, Matt. I can't.

(She starts to cry. Not one of those earth-shattering cries with gallons of tears pouring down her face, but a cry nonetheless. She's trying to hold back, but the pain is too much.)

VIRUS: Listen. I promise you we're going to be okay. I'll do whatever it takes to be here with you and Alexia as much as I can. I promise you I will not let our personal life get involved. We're going to be fine, Mia. Trust me, please.

Mia: You can't control what those animals will do. Think of Alexia and what she has gone through.

(Images of Alexia's harsh past pop into my head. I can only think of her, Demise, and Joe. I let out a tear myself.)

VIRUS: Just...trust me.

Mia: I can't talk you out of this?

VIRUS: Unfortunately, no.

Mia: Take care of yourself, okay? You know that knee doesn't hold up as good as it did six years ago.

VIRUS: I know. We'll be fine, don't worry.

(She wipes the tears from her faces and disappears, going to bed I imagine. I get up from the couch and grab the video camera that was lying on the kitchen table. I bring it back into the family room and set it up on the coffee table. I lie down on the couch, much like a patient visiting his therapist. Let the session begin.)

VIRUS: I can't believe it. I made promises, you know? I told countless people..."no more." Yet, here I am again. And again. And again. I guess I'm a sucker for opportunity. Or maybe I'm just here to support my sister. Who knows. I'm fairly uncertain when it comes to why I do things. Self-awareness is not one of my strong suits...

But I'll tell you what is: perserverance. I laugh in the face of adversity...and in the face of Ryan McCade. But that's neither here nor there.

(A pause. I'd really like to get around to re-painting this room.)

VIRUS: Why have I come here? Most of you know that already and for those of you who don't, I'm sure you'll figure it out. My goal is to make sure my sister doesn't end up a vegetable. Oh, and to win a pillow fight against Jamie Flynn. You wouldn't think it, but the kid throws a hell of a pillow. He's busted more pillows than a couple of Playboy bunnies combined.

Maybe I'd like to stomp out a few of Corey Lazarus' teeth for thinking he could get with my sister. News flash, douchebag: it ain't fucking happening.

I've obviously got a few goals set in mind.

(I chuckle a bit. I don't know. This all seems too formal for me. But then again I guess it's better than having me just spew out whatever I want.)

VIRUS: One time, I fought two men by myself in a handicap match. My tag-team titles were on the line. I won -- easily. One of the men I fought is here in the PWA. I'll let you figure that one out. Maybe that is one of my better highlights, but then again...I was the AoWF King of Extreme champ. I like that title...held it for a long time and lost it to Protean. My jaw still clicks a little bit.

If I won the Grizzly Beer title, then I would challenge somebody to a beer-drinking competition. That only seems fair, doesn't it? I'm German, so all of you would ultimately lose. Anybody that's Irish might put up a fight.

Seriously, though, I'd probably think up of some crazy match with out-of-this-world stipulations and put myself along with my opponent through the depths of Hell and come out victorious...missing an eye, perhaps.

Wouldn't I look pretty badass with an eye-patch? I think I would. Just give me the wooden leg and I'll be set.

(Argh, matey. Pirates are pretty cool, I gotta admit. Especially the porn movie.)

VIRUS: And no, you cannot out-drink me. Stop thinking you can. I will finish two beers before you finish one, pansy.

Anyway, I'm Matthew Engel. You can call me Virus. I am better, stronger, and quicker than you.

I am forever.

I do not forgive.

I do not forget.

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