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And So It is
Settled Stein sat down at the bar in The Nightlife Club, down off the strip in Las Vegas. He sat munching away at peanuts, watching over at the girls on the dance floor as he rubbed the underside of the counter smooth. The bartender walked over to Stein, draping his towel over his own shoulder. Bartender: "Can I get you something, Dan? A drink? Chocolate milk, for instance?" Stein looked at the bartender, rolling his eyes before popping another peanut in his mouth. Dan Stein: "Funny, Steve. Real funny." Stein was, in fact, under 21 but was let inside the bar for one simple reason: He was a staff member at TNC. The bartender, Steve, wasn't fond of Dan, as he was twenty six, strong, muscular and practically begging women for their numbers, while girls simply walked up to Dan with their numbers out - nobody could explain it. Not Steve, not Dan, not even - Johnny: "Danny! I hear you have something for me." Stein's gaze turns up to the staircase above the bar, where Johnny peers down over them. Johnny was a clean cut man, brown hair and always wearing nice suits - your typical club owner. The Rolexes, diamond earrings, etc. Stein, however, was a twenty year old Iowa boy with a superb sense of style, boyish good looks, and a way with the ladies. And the reason why Stein was on TNC's staff? * * * * * * * * * Stein had arrived in Las Vegas just days after leaving OPW on the grounds that, well, OPW had become a shit hole being driven into the ground, and Stein jumped off the sinking ship - much like Kenji Yamada. After setting up a hotel room for the week on his last pay check, Stein headed up to his room with one suitcase full of clothes - the only thing he brought from the house of his deceased parents. Stein tossed the suitcase on the bed, and followed it's cue by laying down beside it. But after just minutes of the peace of his own hotel room, his own vacation spot, Stein got nervous. He got anxious. Stein was never one to sit down alone, but there wasn't much he could do in the city of Las Vegas that would peak a 20-year-old's interest. Stein pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open to look at his ID. He waited a second, and tugged at the card, pulling it out of the wallet. When he looked down again, there was another ID staring up at him. Only this Dan Stein was 23. Stein walked down the strip now, his hands in his pockets. The girls that passed him stared at him as he dipped his head a little, that little 'shyness' about him drawing them in even more. He glanced around at the poles before his attention was drawn to one flier. He stopped dead in his tracks, walking to the blue flier that advertised The Nightlife Club. Stein was immediately drawn in, the flier did exactly what it was supposed to. Stein turned towards the street the flier pointed to, and made his way to the place he'd never wish he did. When he walked up to the bouncer, who checked his ID, the man had a hunch Stein's ID wasn't real... but Stein's look was exactly what they wanted in the club. The bouncer reluctantly allowed Stein into the bar, after warning him to keep his cool. Stein smirked as he walked into the club, the girls instantly clinging to him. Stein thrived on it, Stein loved the attention. As much attention as he enjoyed in the ring, he enjoyed it just as much outside of it, and just as he was going in for the kill on a girl. ???: "Everybody freeze! Nobody move!" Stein, remembering just how he got into the club, did as the man said - he froze. The police did their rounds, Stein waiting his turn in being carded. As the officers approached him, Stein busted out into a sweat - as any 20 year old would do. He fumbled for his wallet, and handed it to the officer, who knew right away the ID was a fake. Stein's heart dropped into his stomach as the officer reached for his handcuffs. Johnny: "Hold on, officer, hold on." Johnny, the club owner, hopped over to the officer quickly, throwing his arm around Stein. He glared at Stein for a split second before turning back to the officer and speaking. Johnny: "This here kid is a family friend that I had working for me tonight. Just for a moment, not for very long. He's obviously underage, and I'm sorry he was in here longer than he needed to be, but boys will be boys, right?" The officer looked at Stein, then Johnny, holding onto the ID. Officer: "What exactly does 'Dan Stein' do here?" The man looked at Stein, having heard that name before. Johnny was an avid wrestling fan and had heard Stein's name through SHOOT Project. Johnny's mind started wandering, before the officer cleared his throat. Johnny: "Well, Officer, Danny-boy here is a test for my security staff - and obviously I know just who to get rid of, eh?" Johnny chuckles, nodding at Stein. Johnny: "Isn't that right, Boy?" Stein looks at Johnny, knowing there was no other way he'd get out of the bar without handcuffs if he didn't agree. Stein nodded, and smirked. Dan Stein: "Sorry about that, Officer. I know I should've headed up to Johnny's officer right away, but... I'm girl crazy, ya know?" The officer looked at Stein, tapping his ID on his hands. The officer nodded, and turned around, taking the ID with him. Stein turned to Johnny, trying to make room. Dan Stein: "Thanks, Bro, you really saved my balls there." Johnny laughs, pulling Stein closer to him. Johnny: "Oh, don't worry, Dan. You'll have your ways to pay me back." Stein looked at Johnny, noticing the evil grin on his face. Stein sighed, knowing he just got himself into a world of shit. * * * * * * * * * Johnny: "Danny! I hear you have something for me." Stein nodded after he turned to his employer. He took a handful of peanuts with him as he walked to Johnny, shaking his hand. Dan Stein: "I've got an idea to keep you in the money, and keep me from having to throw this match." Johnny looked at Stein, confused. Dan Stein: "I got a text last night from my old ALBATROSS trainer, says there's a place in Las Vegas that's taking open tryouts... I'm going to head down there and get back into MMA." Johnny looked at Stein, before patting him on the shoulder and leading him upstairs. Johnny: "I like it, Dan. I like it a lot. I knew you were smarter than people gave you credit for." Stein chuckled, nodding, before walking up the stairs. * * * * * * * * * "So it looks like you and I are the only people that care about this match, Kenji, and that's fine. Nobody's shown their faces in this match besides you and I, and word on the street is... nobody wants to show up period. But they will. Jayson will show up, but he's dealing with the move from New York - and that's fine. But he wont win the title. Fusion is having problem with his Visa or something, Faith and Traci Johnson are too busy primping for the pre-Pay-Per-View fashion show or something. It's getting pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Not them, but me having to listen to you from inside of warehouses or being held down by Yakuza bosses and shit. And what's worse than that? The drugs have gone straight to your head and you're delusional. Either that, or you can't hear for shit - one or the other." The camera opens up on Dan Stein, sitting down in a basement of The Nightlife Club. The damp walls, pipes that leak water and hollow sounding echoes prove the basements worth. "See, simply because I call out Ice on being the biggest name dropping champion in the face of the planet, doesn't mean I want a shot at that waste-of-space title. Who competes for that title? Drones, beefcakes, and retards that have no respect for the sport. I don't want that piece of shit title, I could give a shit less if I ever get it... ever. Because I don't need that title to prove my worth, I don't need that title to do what I love to do. I don't need to be mindless and repetitive to get a fan base. All that I need, Kenji, are my two feet, a worthless opponent, and a referee. The Alias Title and I were made for each other, without a doubt. From the first time I laid my baby blues on it, to this match, until so long as I choose to hold it, we are one. What do you do? Blow shit up? Hang babies? Cut your body into shreds to look like a bad-ass? After a while it gets redundant. You wouldn't make a good Alias Champion." Stein walks towards the light down at the end of the tunnel. "Myself? I'm innovative. I'm creative. I'm a wrestler, I'm a fighter, I'm different. All that you are is a freak show that can take a punch or two - pathetic if you think you're going to win this match. I'll give you credit, you're probably the most decorated person in taking unhealthy risks to win matches, and that's cool. Blow shit up, that's fine. Have sword fights in the ring. Whip people with chains. Kill women, that's your gig. But my gig? My gig is putting on a show for the fans, my gig is being a creative mother fucker, striking people when they least expect it and coming out on top. Your gig is fucking over the Yakuza and getting your life turned shitty, and then coming back again. So really, Kenji, all that you are? A redundant retard that's run his course in a dead federation, trying to make it big around names that he was once big with before, making all the wrong moves. You're a Deep Orange fiend, and that's cool. Drug addicts get far in the business. Look at... wait, no they don't. Maybe you'll be different, though. Maybe you'll surprise the world and come back strong, or you'll end up like every other drug addicted wrestler ever - in rehab... or dead." He steps over a puddle as the camera pans down his frame. He isn't wearing a t-shirt, and has black Sprawl shorts on, with his wrists taped and no shoes. "And with the company we see you with EACH AND EVERY time we watch your promotions, I think your chances of death are at an all time high, right? But what do I know, I hold mid-card titles at best - or I appreciate the sport of wrestling for what it is. A competition between two men to prove their strength, their endurance, creativity and elusiveness. Not a bash fest, not exploding maxi-pads and shit. It's two men, maybe four... six... whatever, you get the point, pushing their body to the limits - naturally. So I'm sorry if I don't shit my pants every time a title you covet opens up, we've got different styles, and thus, different goals in our careers. And that's fine. You proved my point, you don't REALLY want this title, you just want a stepping stone to the bigger titles. Myself? I actually think that this title can benefit both myself - and the company. Because this title WILL get my name out to the fans, and they WILL love watching my matches, and ICE will get more seats filled, and I will elevate this title to the point that it deserves to be. Because in my mind? This title is the main event title, and WHEN I beat you and the four other jamokes in that ring, I WILL walk out of the arena with the newly named title over my shoulder, and I WILL put each - and every - person that comes at me in their place." Stein approaches the end of the tunnel, turning to the camera. "And you can be happy moving on to a different title, trying someone else on for size. Or you can keep on coming at me, and I'll keep on shutting you up. Because it is my title - MY career - and MY era. For you?" The camera turns to the exit of the tunnel, to a subterranean room with hundreds of buzzing people. There's a woman in the ring, holding a microphone to her mouth. Stein laughs, and looks at the camera. "Lights Out." And the tunnel lights shut off as Stein walks into the room.
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