The scene opens with the lights being turned on. The camera takes a look around, taking in the scene. We see a large room with folding chairs around the perimeter. Some of them are open and standing, and some of them are thrown all around the room. The paint on the walls and ceiling is peeling and the floor is dingy. You can see dust floating in the air as it hits the dim rays of light that emit from a single light bulb in the middle of the ceiling. That’s when we look right under light and sees an old, but still complete wrestling ring. The turnbuckle coverings have been removed, and the ring apron is absent, showing everything under the ring. The ropes are intact, however, and the mat seems to be perfect.

I take a step in front of her and start to walk towards the ring.

"Time to take things seriously.."

I slowly walk at the edge of the ring, running my hand across the bottom rope. Without looking at the camera, I start to talk.

"This is where I started my training to become a professional wrestler. I knew from an early age that there was nothing else I wanted to do with my life. Other teenagers who were graduating were planning for college, jobs, and families. I was planning on stepping into the squared circle."

I hop onto the edge of the ring, right outside of the ring ropes.

"This was my home away from home."

I then step between the ropes and enter the ring. I turn to look at the camera. I lean my arms on the top rope and look at the camera.

"I used to try to train her every day when I was young. I was 17 and would sneak in and learn some tips from the veterans. But every time the owner of the gym found out there was a minor in his ring, he would get irate." I smile, thinking of those memories. "It was understandable. You can’t have minors in the ring, not when the chance is so big that he could get hurt. He would always give me words of encouragement, though, even as he was kicking my ass out of the building. When I turned 18, I didn’t go out and party, or go to the strip club with friends. I came here. I would finally be able to live my dream, even if it was just in a local gym. The owner welcomed me with open arms…and then proceeded to kick the living shit out of me every time I got into the ring."

"I know, I know. But it was a necessary evil, you know? You have to experience the bumps and bruises, the ass kickings, and the torture. It’s all a part of learning. It’s all a part of the industry."

I look to the ceiling, taking in the walls that housed my development.

"I moved on just a month after my 19th birthday. This place went under not long after that. The owner had a massive heart attack and passed away. It’s funny, isn’t it? A man lives at the gym, and not a day goes by that he isn’t keeping his body in tiptop shape. One day, he just falls over and dies. All of the guys who trained here tried to raise money to keep the place open, and they damn near did. But the man had a family he left behind, kids that would never see their father again. So the boys donated that money to them. It was this gym’s time, but I’ve never been able to let it go."

I break my gaze from the walls and ceiling and look at the camera.

"So many people think I don’t take this industry seriously. Guys like Randolph made it seem like everything was handed to me, and that I wasn’t dedicated to my craft. I wanted to show you, PWE where the Chairman started. I wanted to show you where the development started… and continues.

I come here every week, no matter where I have to be. I always come back home, just sit in here, and think. I make it seem like I never focus too much on a match. But nothing could be further from the truth. The ghosts of those men that created me are in this building. It might sound crazy, but they speak to me. They encourage me to do bigger and better things. They tell me to continue working, to continue trying to be the best in the world. They tell me there is nothing I cannot accomplish. I step in this ring and battle imaginary opponents, picturing myself facing off with whoever I’m set to face on a given week. Believe it or not, some of the best matches in our business were wrestled right here in this ring…and nobody was watching.

I would spend hours in here, just thinking. I would think about nothing other than my match and how I could systematically take out my opponent. I did it this week, before I invited the cameras out here. I sat in that very chair, and visualized how I would destroy each and every one of my potential opponents. I just wanted to show the world that the wrestling business is my life. It’s just that few people get to see how passionate I am about it. You know, I used to stand in this ring and cut promos on no one in particular, to an audience that didn’t exist.

But seeing as though the cameras are here.."

A familiar OLD SKOOL MIC~! lowers from the ceiling. I clear my throat and crack my neck. Yeah, you know what that means.

taptaptap

"This thing on?

What it do, losers?

Now, PWE, some of you may not know me... probably because it's particularly hard for all of you to hear somebody much, much further on top of the card, but seriously, who doesn't know me? Saying you don't know who created the very GOD that created the words Sports Entertainment aka YOUR FUCKING JOB, is like saying R.W. Randolph like girls: Nobody's ever going to believe you and everybody's just going to keep laughing at you because you're a little mouthy piece of shit.

My name is Mr. Christopher, Chairman of PWE. The Undisputed King of Sports Entertainment, Smacker of Bitches, Fucker of Hoes, Creator of the myth known as Masaharu Tanabashi and of course, GPS Navigation. Where'd that nickname come from? Cause when it comes to these little dick-waving contests where you guys try to tell me I'm gay and I come back and verbally destroy you, I ain't never lost!

Speaking of never losing, why don't PWE do the right thing, and just hand me the fucking title already. I mean, seriously, what else do I have to do? I destroyed.. DESTROYED Masaharu Tanabashi. And he's dead. He's not coming back. I built Tanabashi up, and all he ever had to do was show me the proper respect for making him a household name. But he couldn't do that. He starting believing his own hype, especially with that bitch Tsukino Meiou in his ear all day, every day.

Well, I wonder what Tsukino is saying now to him. He's probably rubbing his feet, and massaging his balls like a good wrench should, trying to talk him into coming back to fight. Do the smart thing Tsukina.. let Tanabashi die. At least he's suffered an honorable death. He comes back.. I'm not responsible for what happens to him.

But enough about that. Let's get to what's important, and that's my upcoming Universal title reign.

Well R.W. Randolph finally went and did what everyone expected. He opened his mouth and let some more of his mediocre material slip out. Seriously, Randolph, are you really that stupid? There are valid reasons why you were suspended, and I wasn't.

Reason one.. I bring in the ratings, while you kill them. No one wants to see you. It's been proven that you are the biggest cause of suicides in the world today. People would rather kill themselves, than sit around and wait for you to bore them to death.

Reason two.. You’re nothing in this business. I'm a star.. a legend. Let's face it, you don't bench Kobe Bryant.. you don't bench Alex Rodriguez.. and you don't bench Shawn Christopher.

So why don’t you just stop this charade right now? Why don’t you save yourself the embarrassment and just quit right now. You won’t have to suffer the humility of getting completely decimated by the Chairman. Go order some fucking lamb meat and kegs of beer and stay the fuck out of my world. Oh yeah, and make sure that bottle of Jose Cuervo is never too far away. After what I’ll do to you Wednesday night, you’re going to want to keep drinking your sorrows away, you sorry sap. Remember.. mother-in-laws kill marriages. I kill careers.

Enemigo III. While you're still trying to spell "PWE" I'm making PWE better just by mentioning it in a breath. While you're WAY, WAY, WAY, WAY down at the bottom of the card telling people "HEY! LISTEN TO ME AND MY JOBBER MOVEMENT!" I've been WAY, WAY, WAY up here with my protege Citizen Truth slapping Masaharu Tanabashi around. You're not even a threat.

Damion Black. So you're the last great technical wrestler, huh? Well, lemme introduce you to the best EVER technical wrestler. I watched what you call a promo, and I don’t think you can get more simple and elementary than that was. His promos are of Winnie the Pooh quality, and he’s Christopher fucking Robin. He might as well bring Eeyore, Piglet, Tigger, and that fucking owl into the picture. Actually, the owl would make a ton of sense, since whenever someone hears the name “Damion Black,” they say, “WHO?” Is it really too much to ask that he come up with something a little more entertaining? Geez, you win one Universal title match, and now he thinks he's something special. Just like Randolph.

Tomoko Hanahara.. you're so cute. I'ma hate what I'll have to do to you. But maybe I can knock some sense into you. You and all the voices in your head, have to learn that when you step into the ring, you step into my domain. And when I'm finished with you, you and Elmo can go where you're more needed.. like in the kitchen, baking me a victory cake. I like chocolate.

Then finally there's Lee Stone.

Well it took long enough.., but we're finally in the same place, at the same time. If we're lucky, we'll get the match-up that we both want. I've studied all your work. My favorite is the two out of three fall match you had with Christian. Fucking classic, I gotta admit. But I've replayed that match, over and over, waiting for the day I would meet you in the ring.

See, I'm tired of hearing Christian talk about the great Lee Stone. I look at you, and I don't see anything special. You're no better than me, but for some reason, he seems to think you are. Well, it's high time I change that perception, and prove that you're not on my level.

I am a man amongst boys, and none of you prepubescent bastards can come close to me. Lee, I think you will be a challenge. I really do think you are. But now I show that you’re nothing more than a mirage. You try to portray this man with all the talent in the world, when in reality he doesn’t even exist. You claim to be the perfect male specimen, yet beautiful women turn to other females when they are with you. Yeah, that sounds really fucking cool to me. Let’s just thank God that I’m here to bring all those women back to the right team. I usually have a lot more to say about you… but this time, I'ma let my actions speak louder.

I thank you. My fellow Icons thank you. The ghost of Masaharu Tanabashi's relevance thanks you. Thank you, America and Good night."

Shawn drops to the mat and rolls out the ring. He exits the building, but not before turning out the light, as the scene fades to black.