The scene is a hallway in the arena after the events of Aggression 50 have transpired. The Amazing Logan and Michael Bastard are trying to fend off medical staff. Logan is holding a bag of ice on his head with one hand and shaking his cane at the medics with the other, positioning himself between the medics and an onery Bastard. Bastard is bleeding from over his right eye from the chairshot Layne Winters delivered to him earlier on in the evening.
TAL: I told you, get away, we don't need your help.
Medic #1: He's bleeding! You gotta let us...
TAL: We don't have to let you do anything.
Logan ducks an errant shot from Bastard aimed at the hand of a medic reaching out to help the bleeding wrestler.
TAL: We both have the right to refuse treatment if we want to, and Michael does not want to be treated. It's not a serious cut anyway. He'll scab up before long.
Medic #2: You're not a doctor, you can't make that distinction!
TAL: Oh please, I may not be a doctor, but I've seen enough of those cuts in the ring at minute five or so of a match that ends up going twenty-plus and they scab up before medical attention can be administered. So please, get out of here.
M#1: But...
MB: GET AWAY FROM ME!
The medics are taken aback and move away sheepishly, as if they're frightened. Logan and Bastard turn around to face the camera.
TAL: Bravo, Layne. Really, I'm impressed, very much so. You've done something that those two ham-and-eggers earlier on tonight wouldn't have been able to do had they been given a million free shots and fists dipped in glue and shards of glass. You busted open Michael. And to think, all it took you was an unwarranted surprise attack with a steel chair. Man, you're about as brave as they come, eh? And to think you're the guy leading this company's resistance against the Anthology and the Television Champion? Classy. If a garden variety coward with the mental fortitude of an emo cutter can win gold in Empire Pro Wrestling, then I like Michael's chances.
A lot.
But you did serve a purpose with that cheap shot, Layne. I'm actually grateful you did what you did. You served to tough up Michael for later on tonight. You see, Michael will be undergoing his first real test in an Empire Pro ring. He's facing the one man who can match him for sadism, for punishment, for resilience, for utter insanity. Omega. What you did was get the initiation process out of the way. Michael no longer has to wait for the first chairshot from Omega or the first punch to the face, kick to the gut or whatever. You gave Michael the chance to take his first lump and to start dwelling on it so that he may embrace it and get used to it before going out and waging war against a man whose depths of depravity are so vast that he talks lovingly to his implement of destruction. Now, he can charge into the ring with a full head of steam and not have to undergo a feeling out process. Every drop of blood that drips onto his lips is like a press of the gas pedal, and now, he'll hit the ring at 60 miles per hour. Some may see what you did as a disadvantage, but this truly is a blessing.
Oh, but don't take this as an exoneration. No Layne, you're going to get yours. Bad. Like, full body cast bad, Layne. Hopefully, you still have your title when Michael comes a-callin', because it would be a nice trophy to put on his mantel piece, along with your soul and health. That and no coward deserves to hold any title in this company, especially one as imbalanced as you. But for now, you've served your purpose. Breathe easy for now, and try not to peek in on Michael's match, unless you want to brace yourself for your reprisal.
Logan gingerly removes the bag of ice from his head. The hate boils over in Bastard's eyes as the blood oozes out and down his face.
TAL: And as for you Omega, don't take my platitudes about your proclivities towards violence as complacence or surrender. Yes, we respect you. That's about where the pleasantries end. Because of that respect though, I can feel better about what Michael is going to do to you. You see, hammering the stool out of John Doe or Kenneth Williams, as many in the wide world of wrestling would agree, isn't impressive. Sure, Michael here had a lot of fun out there jamming his thumb into Kenneth's neck, but the degree of difficulty just isn't high enough for my liking. I would love to stomp around here and fatten up on Doe and other has-beens or never-will-bes, trump up an undefeated record that in the end means nothing, but I'd just feel dirty inside. To prevent me and Michael from that empty, dusty feeling, he needs to get his outside plenty dirty.
That's where you come in.
See, like I said, you're the only man in this company, outside of maybe Stalker, who's as much of a sociopath as Michael is. You're the perfect kind of challenge that Michael needs to face... that Michael WANTS to face right now. You're the only man right now who can deal the kind of pain Michael needs to remind himself why he's re-entered the ring and why he must press on and mutilate all in his path. You're the fuel to the fire, Omega. You're the thing that keeps the engine running. But enough about Michael, what is going through your mind? What will you think when you wrap Barb around Michael's head, but instead of him slumping over like a gunshot victim, he falls to a knee, holds his head, gets up and smiles at you? What will you think when he comes back at you with the recoil of a thousand times the intensity you came at him? What's going to happen when the Craziest Bastard in Wrestling gets out-crazied, the hardcore icon gets out-hardcored... the toughest man in the company gets outtoughed, outlasted...
...outclassed?
Logan puts the ice back on his head, Michael smiles.
TAL: It's a shame though, Omega. Not because you're about to be replaced as the Craziest Bastard in Wrestling, but because the match has to be sullied by the inclusion of a no-name rapper trying to wrestle because it's hip right now. This Y2RR character, I don't know where you came from, and other than the fact that the people putting this Showdown together need to have some kind of New Era component in the match, I have no idea why you're here. But get something straight. Your ability to bust a phat rhyme had better be epic, because if Michael doesn't spit you out like that filthy, cheap malt liquor you unironically drink out of 40 ounce bottles, Omega might, and we might let him. Might as well throw him a bone before he gets put out to pasture.
Gentlemen, the fun and games are over. The utter destruction of John Doe and Kenneth Williams was only the beginning, and it looked easy because it was easy. But know this, when the going gets tougher, Michael shines brighter. If you have any last words, now would be the time to bring them out, because the last words you are going to hear before you get put out for good will be...
MB: WELCOME... TO... THE... FREAKSHOW!!!
Logan smirks, drops his ice pack and takes a two-handed swing at the camera with his cane, knocking it down and fading the screen to static.
