The stakes rise....
Fade in: on the apartment of the Watcher. Aside from the absence of the newspaper on the rug, article clippings on the walls, and the sterno, the apartment is as it was the last time. The Watcher, himself, is sitting on a wooden chair, looking down at the floor. He has on a pair of black sweatpants, turtleneck sweater, gloves, and boots. His head is covered by a mask.
Watcher: There are times when people do get a bit too deeply involved with their goals. By doing this, they miss what the competition may have to offer, what they may be up against. This is unexcusable, and it is something that has caused many problems in the past, and still in the present. In wrestling, the competition can be fierce, and the prizes very nice for those who make it to claim them. This tournament is for the right to lay claim to the biggest prize that the NWL has to offer. It is for the right to be called the top Champion of the circuit. And while that may make you water at the mouth, Krusher....it is not something you should look forward to...because you won't be getting to that round robin, much less have a chance to claim the NWL Heavyweight Title by way of this tournament. Not if I have something to do with your getting there...and I do.
Watcher looks up at the camera.
Watcher: I see you live a nice lifestyle, at least in material possessions. I don't doubt you've worked at your craft to gain those things, and that you are hungry to get bigger paychecks and even a title here. Much like my own situation, however, the situation you have currently found yourself in is much bleaker than you may think. I was talking no trash when last you saw me, let me assure you of that. There is no arrogance here, only an increasing need for success. If you think I am not as hungry as you are to win, then you are sadly mistaken and, at Combat, will find out just how painful it can be to mistake me for someone who is blowing smoke.
Watcher stands and picks up the chair, bringing it to the door and lodging it securely under the doorknob. Once satisfied, he walks over to the window, looking out of it briefly before sitting below it.
Watcher: You're smart to tread only where you feel is necessary, and not get arrogant. You're right, this won't be a 'blockbster' match...not on paper. But in the ring, if you are committed to giving your all, then this match will be one hard to top, because I do not plan to hold back. I was trained to get my work done quickly and efficiently. There was no half-***ing it, no dragging your feet, and above all...no mistake went without a repercussion. If you made a mistake, you would pay for it. Now, wrestling is not exactly the same. Mistakes do occur, but they are not always paid for. Only some make their opponents pay for their mistakes. I don't know if you ever had someone pick up on your errors, punishing you for them, but I assure you that I will not let you slide. Missions only get accomplished faster when one capitalizes on mistakes, and the faster I can finish you, the sooner I can move onto the round robin. There's nothing arrogant about it. I just don't prefer to let my targets squirm and cling to any hope if I can help it. I just go in for the kill as soon as possible. Maybe you would have beaten Minion had you done as much, Krusher.
Watcher pauses and says nothing for a time. He then slowly moves his head up to the window, looking through the bottom of it before pushing it open. Watcher then sits back down.
Watcher: I don't have such luxuries as you do, Krusher. I don't blame anyone but myself for that, however, I have recognize and accepted my past mistakes. I learn from every one of them, and know when I am going down the same path to failure. Just as in a wrestling match, I know when I may be taking a risk that could lead to being a mistake, and subsequently have repercussions. But some risks are meant to be taken. It is a fine line between success and failure that all of us in this tournament must walk. We are placed directly on that line, because it's one loss and we're out. You managed to cling to the line by your very fingertips last match, as you were falling to failure. You didn't fall off, though...you hung on just long enough -- three seconds, in fact -- to the line. You kept Minion's shoulders down just that long, and then Theo and Shawn Hart helped you remain in this tournament. Well, Krusher, that was your one mulligan. That was the one time when you would be allowed such a luxury in this tournament. When we get into the ring, at Combat, you won't have any luxury. You'll be in my world, a world that I have adapted to being in, and you will have to beat someone who has, in obscurity, kept honing his own craft, just like you. You'll have to beat someone who is not just hungry for success in this tournament...but in need of it. You'll be facing me...and you won't be making it to the round robin. I will not risk having you clinging to the line, because I will throw you off of it, and into failure by the end of our match. You will find out who was one of the few selected to grab the opportunity presented to them, and run with it; quite literally, in fact. The sad thing for you, though, will not be when you find out who it is...but when you find out that it was not you who is going to make good on the opportunity. I will be that one, Krusher. Not a 'superstar,' not even a star....just the Watcher. As for Dakota Smith, Minion, Maelstrom, you, and all the rest...superstars or not...you will all witness your stars being....broken.
Watcher removes a floorboard and takes out a duffel bag from under it. He then replaces the floorboard as there is suddenly a knock on the door, followed by a jiggling of the doorknob, and a call of, "POLICE! OPEN THE DOOR!" Watcher ignores it and takes off his mask, revealing a black cloth wrapped to cover his face, leaving openings for the eyes and mouth. He takes a winter hat out of the bag and places it on his head, then stuffs a small stack of newspaper articles inside the bag and zips it shut, swinging it over his shoulder. The door begins to budge open but the chair keeps it from being open just a bit longer, as Watcher goes out the window, dropping down onto a fire escape and making haste. As the door is busted open, a small group of police officers come in, slowly, guns drawn and surveying the area. They start looking around, but the walls are bare and nothing seems to be around that they are looking for. Then, one of the officers opens the door to the bathroom, and gasps.
Officer: Damnit...holy ****.....
Fade out.
"6 hours earlier"
The Watcher, dressed in the same clothes, is taking down the various newspaper clippings on the walls surrounding his bed when there is a knock on the door. Watcher takes his mask off, showing the wrap, and goes over to the door, opens it and finds the same two "officers" from a day or two ago.
Officer #1: We meet again.
Watcher: You stole the words right from me. Are you here to steal anything else?
Officer #2: Ever the sharp one, aren't you? I guess that's why we were sent here. But don't take us for petty burglars. We aren't here to steal anything. You heard me the other day, there's not much to see here.
Watcher: Then what do you want with me?
Officer #1: That's a nice cover job you did with your face. You weren't so shy the last time.
Watcher: I wasn't expecting visitors. I usually keep myself away from socializing.
Officer #2: We couldn't agree more. Especially when a visitor..(glances at the other guy, then smirks)..or two, are working for a...disgruntled, former boss of yours.
Officer #1: You'd prefer we say 'former,' don't you? It won't be that way soon enough.
Watcher: Really....
Officer #1: I'm afraid not. We're here to take you back.
Watcher: Oh? Now that's fascinating. It really is. I find it hard to believe you'd be able to do that....
Officer #2: And why is that, heh?
Watcher: Just because...it's hard to carry one person's weight, especially your own, when your legs are broken.
With that, the fight ensues as both men go after Watcher. He fends them both off, until one takes out his pistol and nails Watcher from behind with it. Watcher falls to the floor, motionless, as the other guy shoves the one who made the strike.
Officer #1: What do y'think you're doing? He told us not to use the guns unless the situation was out of hand!
Officer #2: Hey! Better we keep the situation from getting out of hand, by you know...bending the rules a bit.
Officer #1: We didn't need to do it that way. We could have taken him with our fists, man! We don't need anything else for this exile. Don't insult me.
Officer #2: Whateva! We got the job done. Let's get him and go.
The two pick up Watcher by the arms, each slinging an arm over their neck. As they drag him towards the door, though, there is a "flick" sound, and two blades come from Watcher's hands. He slits one on the forearm, while stabbing the other one in the neck. Watcher breaks free and then darts to the first, stabbing him in the gut as the second takes a kick to the face, sending him down as a pool of blood forms. Watcher wrenches the knife into the other's stomach as he curses at the man. He finally pulls the knife out and the guy falls to the floor in a heap. Watcher wipes the switchblades on the two's clothes, then puts them away in one of the pouches on his belt. He then begins taking the bodies into the bathroom, and brings out a rag to clean up the blood.
Fade in: on Watcher walking down a street. A television in a store display is showing a news report. Watcher stops and looks at it for a moment.
Reporter: Two men were found dead, last night, in a south side district apartment. Early reports indicate a double homicide, but police are having trouble gathering leads, as little to no trace of evidence was on the scene of the crime. Already there is a complication to the case, as the building's landlord claims nobody was checked into the apartment where the bodies were found. No further information has been released yet on either of the victims. And now for the latest in sports.....
Watcher turns and continues walking down the street, taking out a cigarette, lighting it up with a match and tossing the match to the ground. The flame burns to the end of the short matchstick before fizzling out. Fade out.