The fire that burns
[FADE IN. A night scene, a large, open fire burning in a forest clearing. The camera pans back, showing a figure familiar to many as “The Dragon”, sitting in a very relaxed manner, staring into the flames]
Karl: I don’t know why you felt the need to attack me, Davis. It’s the one thing that’s baffled me since Aggression. You have a problem with me using a title I earned, so you decide to deal with it in such a cowardly way, one unbefitting a man calling himself the best the industry has ever seen. Maybe you wanted to put your point across that you’re a hard-ass. Maybe you wanted to make sure you had an advantage going in. All you really did, though, was show how scared you are of me.
You could have come and spoken to me in the locker-room, and we could have both marched to talk to Ryan about a match to settle this difference you have. To be honest, when I went into MCW, I’d never heard of you. Until you walked in through the door, I still hadn’t heard of you. Now, I find you’ve been using the “Dragon” moniker for a while. And that you’ve been kinda out of action a while.
And that’s why you’re scared, Eric. That’s why you attacked. Save the bull-sh*t “I did it because I felt like it” or any other reason you’re bound to try and come up with, and just admit it. You’re scared of a young wrestler from Nottingham, England, who uses the same moniker you do. Only, I won the right to this moniker by being the best at one of the wrestling schools in Japan. You? You probably thought you’d use it because of Ricky Steamboat. Because it sounds cool. For a punchline.
Because you think you’re talented.
I’ve seen tapes of you, my friend. You’re nothing I haven’t already seen, nothing I haven’t beaten. If anything, you’re a step down. A step down from Sands, from Benjamin. From Maelstrom. From the people in the Natural Selection tournament. It’s almost embarrassing to have to face you, and over something so petty.
[Karl tosses some more wood onto the fire, sparks flying out as the fire roars before settling down again]
Karl: At Russian Roulette, Eric, you don’t have a chance in hell. Your fancy pantomime might win you a few ooohs and ahhhs, but they don’t impress me. Calling yourself the greatest… that’s a cliché in today’s wrestling industry. How many claim to be the best? You can’t all be right. Quite simply, none of you are right, because there’s always someone better than you, someone you have to work towards being as good as. No-one is unbeatable. So whilst there is a slim chance you might beat me, I have neither the time nor the inclination to worry about that. Because it’s such a slim chance.
[Karl stands, walking over to the flames. He stares into the heart of the fire, the shadows moving, the flames dancing almost hypnotically]
Karl: I can see you, Davis. I can see you in your little heaven, where everything is perfect for you. Where you’re outlandish claims of being the best are true. But to me, you’re nothing. You’re not even up to the same standard as Ray Rock. You’re another name that Ryan decided to bring in. Another man expecting to make a huge impact with next to no effort in this company. People like you are nothing to me, to the fans. To those of us who’ve been here since day one, to those of us who made it here… you’re just another self-inflated and deluded ego. And a fairly harmless neurotic person. You’re little heaven may help you sleep at night, but you’re heaven’s a lie, Davis. The only truth, the only hard reality is that you’re in for a battle the likes of which you won’t soon forget. At Russian Roulette, two Dragons meet. And only one will survive.
You dug the grave, Davis. I’m more than happy to fill it in.
[Karl keeps staring into the flames, as the camera pans round to the far side, then to the base of the fire, staring into its very heart. FADE OUT]