Thursday, July 10th, 2014- 4:34 AM - The War Room, Battle Creek, MI
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Our scene opens… Resting at the center of the screen, the back of a television set, ancient, box-shaped… Sitting on a thin fold-out table, which bends, creaks, curves in the middle under its weight… Both sides, surrounded by video tapes… Labeled in a sharp thin scrawl… The letters vigilant… Tense…

One: 'Bobby Wins X-Treme Championship'

Another: 'Bobby visits classroom'

Click.

The sound of tape rewinding.

The light glow of a television screen…

Quote:Hold on a second, is that... ?

Bobby Z-

Click.

The sound of tape rewinding.

The light from the screen dances as the image replays… As the marionettes of the past dance once more...

Quote:Hold on a second, is that... ?

Bobby Z-

Click.

The sound of tape rewinding.

The camera turns slightly from around the backside of the television to showcase a bearded man… Tired red eyes…

A large gash in his skull….

Still open, running a thin line of blood from his forehead to his chin…

His index and middle fingers rest at the front of a VCR. One sitting on the rewind button, the other on the play…

Click.

The sound of tape rewinding.

Quote:Hold on a second, is that... ?

Bobby Z-

Click.

The watcher’s eyes slowly traverse from the screen… To the lens of the camera… The pale blue light of the television screen, revealing through the shadows and dim

“Hi Bobby.” Click. Whir. Click.

Quote:Hold on a second, is that... ?

Bobby Z-

"Sorry about the background noise... Just trying to figure out where I went wrong..."

"You see, I've been scouring every tape I could find... Searching... Trying to discern exactly what moment in time you're referring to when you say that I ignored your challenge."

"I've watched your match against Joey Hawkins. Nothing."

"I watched your post-Madness interview after you beat Joey Hawkins. Nothing."

Quote:Hold on a second, is that... ?

Bobby Z-

Click. The tape flips direction and begins to fast forward. Click.

Quote:From out of nowhere!

"There appear to be some communication issues between you and I, Bob."

“You must have been quite frustrated… To ambush me…” Click. Whir. Click.

Quote:From out of nowhere!

“I'm trying to sympathize...You must be as tired of hearing this phrase as I am of listening to it on these tapes.” Click. Whir. Click.

Quote:From out of nowhere!

“People acting like every time you do something right, it’s a big fucking surprise.”

“You winning the X-Treme Title?”

Quote:From out of nowhere!

“You avenging your first loss and beating that ‘Gilmour Junior’ goober, Joey Hawkins. Bringing your record to a glorious-for-you, 1 win to 2 losses.”

Quote:From out of nowhere!

“And you know who should have seen this coming…? You know who this really didn’t ‘come from out of nowhere for’? You know who, despite it all, should have seen through your worm exterior to connect the dots… And deciphered what a fucking little garden snake you are?”

Quote:-f mark flynn

“You know the only person who gave you a modicum, one single iota, of respect in this company?”

Quote:-f mark flynn

“Who bothered to give you the benefit of the doubt? Who even tried for a moment, for a millisecond, for a FUCKING PICOSECOND… To act like you were a legitimate presence in this company…?”

Quote:-f mark flynn

Flynn jams his thumb into the VCR’s pause button… And sits there. His hands shaking… Running from around his chin… To his temples….

Quote: He's going absolutely nuts; b-

Click.

Flynn turns, his heads drop back to the table...As where before there was a hurt confusion... A curious smile spreads across the face..

“Is that what you think, Bobby? Do you agree with the bunch of screaming chimps sitting around that announce table? Is that what you were going for? Is this going nuts for you? A little ambush with a steel folding chair?”

“…”

“Do you think that punk shit you pulled…Is new to me?”

“I’m the X-Treme fucking champion, Bob.”

“You should remember that at least. I beat you to become it.”

“Or were you too fucking punchy after being taken out by ‘Can’t Beat Ashe Dawson’ John Austin to remember how Leap of Faith ended?”

“Little hint, Bob. It ended with me beating six other men. You included. To walk out with that X-Treme Championship.”

“You think I’m not used to getting attacked? Did you think that was the crazy part?”

“I’ve survived 32 ambushes since I became X-Treme Champion.”

“Even before that, from 2012 to 2013, I think every other Wednesday Night Warfare ended with me in a pool of my own fucking blood, surrounded by people trying to beat me to death with chairs. I’ve had fucking target painted on my back since I came to the XWF.”

“The belt is just the newest prize that comes with hitting a bullseye.”

“I’ve been the X-Treme Champion for almost 21 days now, Bob.”

“That makes my reign seven times as long as yours.”

“I’m THUS FAR the 13th Longest Reigning X-Treme Champion of All-Time.”

“You WERE the 34th Longest Reigning. Out of 50 champions.”

“Putting you in the bottom third. The lowest of the low. Just like you are in the XWF talent pool.”

“Your ‘reign’ as the X-Treme champion was an embarrassing fucking stain on the pages of XWF’s history book.”

“And while we’re discussing what a fucking little disappointment, what a thieving shit lowlife you turned out to be, do you know how many times people have tried the fucking ‘steal my belt’ trick to throw me off my game?”

Flynn's free hand shoots into the air as a fist. His index finger goes up.

“Tax. Lethal Lottery. December 6th, 2012. My European Championship.”

His middle finger raises next.

“Neonero. Monday Night Madness. January 14th, 2013. That same fucking European Championship. Still my fucking European Championship.”

Then, his ring finger...

“Funny story, same night, same show. Randy Cross. My Tag Team Championship. That fuckhead didn’t even get to keep the damn thing.”

Finally, his pinky joins the fray...

“Angelus. Wednesday Night Warfare. January 30th, 2013. My United States Championship. Punted his girlfriend in the skull for that one…”


His fingers join... Back into a fist...

“The whole ‘I’ll steal his belt! That’ll get in Flynn’s head for sure!’ gameplan?”

“25% success rate.”

“Are you getting the common theme here, Bob? The ambushing plan? Ineffective. The stealing my belt plan? Tends to backfire.”

“You stole MY belt.”

“You disappointed ME.”

“You PISSED off, happy care-free ‘Free-Win’ Flynn.”

“And now.”

“You’re in for a FUCKING WORLD OF HURT.”

Click.

Quote: ‘can i have you bustards attention now....’

Click.

“You had my attention, Bobby. When you made your post-beating Hawkins announcement, I watched it. I loved it. When you made those children cry reading them a story the week before Leap of Faith? I stood and applauded from my chair.”

"Was a big fan."

“You had my attention.”

“Now. You have my ire.”

“My obsession.”

“My singularly-focused calculated rage. My unending. undying hatred, loathing toward the very existence that we share an ecosystem.”

“My every cell, every synapse in my brain, my every thought devoted 100% to your destruction, to your ERADICATION. Every sensation,sight, taste, smell, sound, now disgusting to me.”

“The most beautiful symphony turns to cacophony in my ears.”

“Food, no matter how well prepared, well-done, rare and everything in between on the spectrum… All tastes the same…”
“The odor coming off a meal… No longer pleases me… My mouth doesn’t even bother wasting the saliva… Knowing how little I’ll enjoy the result…”

“No confection, no distraction, no replacement able to quench my one-true desire. The sensation I crave more than any other...”

“To HEAR your bones snap in two under the weight of my heel. To FEEL the rush of adrenaline and catharsis that will come from pulling your arms out of your sockets and sitting on top of your chest, delivering haymaker after haymaker to your left and right temples until you can’t fucking see straight.”

“To SEE you terrified, desperately crawling away...To SMELL your fear as I close the distance between us… To TASTE the air as the blood rushes from your skull…”

“Just as you made it rush out of mine…”

Quote: ‘’..this is what happens when you piss off tha wrong guy. ..

“Do you wanna know what happens when you piss off the wrong guy, Bob?”

"You seem to have not done a lot of research when it comes to what's happened in the XWF."

"I'll fill you in. Give you a little history lesson.

"The last guy that stepped in line first to challenge me for a belt?"

"Cassius Stonne."

"United States Championship."

"Wednesday Night Warfare."

"February 6th, 2013."

"I won a 16-man tournament for that United States Championship. Including our current Universal champion, Azrael Erebus."

"Needless to say, I got a little attached to the thing..."

"Then, when the runner-up loser Angelus decided to knock me out post tournament... And steal my belt... I didn't take it well..."

"Enter Cassius Stonne."

"Cassius decided the week before that he didn't want to enter the tournament, but instead challenged 'Whoever wins the tournament' to a United States Championship match the next week..."

"I took that opportunity."

"I dropped a knee on his head from the top rope."

"I caved in his skull."

"And I ended his career."

"Don't feel bad if you haven't heard of him, Bob. Was a long time ago."

"I've ended a lot of people's careers that I don't feel bad about."

"I ended Sinister's career."

"I ended 'The Dawg' Larry Atkins' career."

"I ended Raymond Hatcher's career."

"I haven't seen Michael McBride on XWF programming in weeks. Haven't bothered to check if he's been injured after I dropped him neckfirst ten feet through a table with The End."

"Don't really care if he is."

"Cuz unlike some of these fuckheads... Your 'Mastermind's and your 'Aaron Andrews's... I don't celebrate my minor victories..."

"I don't make a t-shirt of the men I've broken with a little cute message on the front that says 'I BEAT SOME PUNK KID NO ONE CARES ABOUT'..."

"I just kill their chances...Break their futures...Crush their dreams..."

A twisted grin spreads across his face...

"And then float their broken bodies into the ocean that is the disabled list... Sitting there on the beach until they sink to the bottom... To sit there forever... Remembered only by me."

Flynn takes his hands from his head... And squeezes his fist as tight as he can.

"You know what you did... When you ambushed me, Bob?"

Click. Whir. Click.

Quote:led my hand to act...‘

"All those other fuckers on my list of the dead. My roll call sheet? I don't feel bad about."

"But Cassius? He was young. He was in over his head. He fucked with the wrong guy, the wrong week, the wrong way. I don't even think he knew how bad he pissed me off until the bridge of his nose had turned to dust and ash."

"Truth be told, I think about Cassius sometimes. Truth be told, I feel bad about Cassius sometimes."

"But this...? This is warranted. This is justified."

"This coming Monday?"

"On Madness? With my X-Treme Title on the line? The title you have in your filthy little urchin hands?"

"I'm not worried about getting pinned by you or Aaron Andrews..."

"I'm not concerned about my partner John Black, dealing with John Madison's challenge and whether or not he's going to show up mentally."

"Only thing I'm worried about? The only thing that concerns me?"

"Is how many pieces to break your fucking larynx into..."

"So I never have to hear another fucking word out of your mouth..."

"This Monday, Bob? With the X-Treme Title on the line..."

Click...

Quote: “-ou will heard the last of m-...‘’

FLYNN JUMPS OUT OF HIS SEAT, DRIVING HIS SHOULDER INTO THE TABLE!

THE ENTIRE THING FLIPS! THE LARGE TELEVISION FLIES, GLASS SCREEN BROKEN INTO SHARDS, TAPES SHOOTING THROUGH THE AIR, COLLIDING WITH THE WALL AND FALLING INTO COMPONENTS...

THE CRASHING OF PLASTIC TAPES, THE SNAPPING OF THE TELEVISION FRAME, THE LEGS OF THE TABLE SNAP IN AS THE WHOLE THING COLLAPSES...

...

...

The only sound left is static... The sound system still working on the television, even with the screen shattered...

Flynn standing...

Walks through several broken tapes... In front of th emangled table... On top of the broken television set...

And looks into the camera...

Hungry...

"This Monday, Bob?"

"Will be the last ANYONE... hears of you..."