The Beast vs Ca$h

[Ryan Ro [NAPW]]

NO HOLDS BARRED
The Beast vs Ca$h

No Holds Barred? Wha? Why? All speculation points to The Beast being in league with his long-time friend and ally Rex Caliber... and last week, Ca$h spoiled The New Crimes' party, almost costing them the tag titles! This was Ca$h's revenge for the beatdown he endured by not siding with Caliber. Nobody is sure where The Beast's mind is at these days, not since Caliban entered his life. Ca$h may be in for the fight of his life... especially if The Beast is on a mission from Rex!

[Ca$h]

There's a great little restaurant across the street from the Polish Hall in Edmonton, Alberta. Clean, quiet, and all the jello you can eat. It's not even that hard to get a table. The only real competition is wheelchair-bound.

That's right, it's the food court at Royal Alexandra Hotel... Err, Hospital. And with a simple laptop, it becomes a food court/internet cafe. Ca$h sits alone at a table near the Pizza Pizza stand, a slice of pepperoni growing cold in front of him, next to a cheap Dell laptop. On the screen is a column from a wrestling blog, a review of Tagstravaganza II. Ca$h scrolls to the bottom, finishes reading, and closes the window with a frustrated *CLICK!*

"One line. I put myself out there against someone that doesn't deserve my time in the ring, someone that doesn't even bother interviewing before the match like everyone else, and what do I get for my trouble? One line of commentary, a sore shoulder, and a match against a guy called The Beast.

There's a humdinger, though. Who is this guy? I haven't been in this company long enough to know his history firsthand, but word on the street is that he's in cahoots with a certain someone. A certain someone that tried to have me beaten down. A certain someone who made me an offer I couldn't refuse, which I promptly refused anyway.

But..."

A fan, wearing an NAPW sweatshirt, crosses through the frame, and Ca$h stops him. The guy recognizes who he just walked past, and smiles into the camera.

"Am I on TV?"

"Not really. Listen, let me ask you something. You went to the show last night, right?" The fan nods furiously, eyes never leaving the camera, smile still on his face. "So, what do you think of Bruce Richards? Which side is he on?"

With that, the smile leaves the fan's face, and a scowl replaces it.

"Man, (BLEEP) Richards! Everyone knows he's in with Caliber. The fact that he just stood around while Crimes took over last night is the icing on the cake. Nice work trying to break that up, by the way. Crazy sick bump you took. You mind signing my hoodie?"

He produces a marker from his back pocket, and Ca$h obliges. The fan walks over to the Tim Horton's stand, and the camera returns to Ca$h.

"So, there you have it. Word on the street, like I said. Well, word in the food court. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to do some scouting."

He opens Firefox once again, and surfs to the NAPW site, where he orders a copy of every past event on DVD, checking the box for "rush delivery" in the process.

FADE TO BLACK

[Bruce "The Beast" Richards]

(Wednesday afternoon is cold and rainy in Edmonton, but at least the sun's shining. Outside, people run past windows and duck under awnings, trying to dash to their destinations without getting too wet. Bruce Richards, however, is one of the few people outside who doesn't care too much, what with his black raincoat and his hat. He walks leisurely down the street, hands in his pockets; on the surface he looks like the gruff but friendly Bruce of months past, but if you look closely, there's exhaustion in his eyes. He smiles anyways, and adresses the camera, who precedes him down the street.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: Well, the NAPW sure put on a hell of a show last night. Full of drama, excitement, and pop culture references. May's been a good month for the new NAPW. After a bit of readjustment to our new circumstances in April, the promotion has found its footing and is running at full speed. Two weeks ago, we had the REBEL/NAPW Supershow, and the matches there were some of the best I'd seen. Of course, it had Caliban and yours truly in the brutal Dog Collar Match, a Main Event on any given night. But this wasn't just any night. We had the eight-man tag match, NAPW versus REBEL. NAPW won, and I'm not sure if I should be happy about that or not, but no matter how you look at it: still more momentum for New Alberta Pro. And of course we had Ravager/Simply Beautiful III, where Bob "The Human Steamroller" Ravager pulled out yet another victory. Three show-stopping matches in one night.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (He rubs his hands together and keeps walking down the sidewalk.) And then last night, it gets even better. From the promotion that revitalized the tag team wrestling scene comes Tagstravaganza II: Tag Harder. With even more surprise guests than a desperates sitcom during sweeps week. AWX, the team that doesn't know how to quit. Stone Zellor, the man on fire. And let's not forget the mainest of main events. Twenty-six men. Thirteen teams. One shot. Sure, by the end, I was trying to root for the lesser of the two evils and couldn't make up my mind which team fit that description, but the athleticism and showmanship in the gauntlet was magnificent. Sure, it was lacking a little thing called Bruce Richards, but after my match last week, I needed the time off, and was more than happy to call the show from the sidelines.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Spreads his hands out wide as he strides through Sir Winston Churchill Square.) And yet, with the show the NAPW brass have booked for next week, we might just outdo ourselves again. Aside from the snow's name, which could have benefitted from a run past a focus group, Badder Blood is firing on many, many cylinders. Simply Beautiful and Brian Bruno: brother versus brother in a loser leaves NAPW match. Smells like prime-time gold to me. Then you have Mystic Exposition coming off a HUGE splash in their gauntlet, trying to keep up their momentum. And of course, a triangle ladder match for the Tag Team titles, featuring the Crimes...wait, is it January 2006 again? (Shakes his head.) Sorry, deja vu.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Trying to avert his gaze as three female University students walk past him, unsuccessfully.) But there are two matches that seem a little...off. First of all, there's the Heavyweight Title Match. Bob Ravager versus Stone Zellor. Don't get me wrong Zellor, you're a good guy and I hope you enjoy your shot at the title. But you might want to tell your new manager to watch his mouth. You ran The New & Improved D-X out of the NAPW? I beg to differ. Take more care with your words, "Roly". You don't want to talk your client into a hospital stay. And even though I'm sure it'll be an entertaining match, let's not ignore the fact that Bob's fighting the number SEVEN contender for the title. Where's the number one contender, people?

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Stopping at the intersection.) Why, I'm fighting Ca$h, "naturally". After all, the guy's on a hot streak right now. Two matches in two weeks: two wins. With wins against Diablo and Jude Costigan, he's feeling cocky and overconfident. And now he gets to face me. (Grinning, bearing his teeth.) Welcome to the NAPW, Ca$h. It's high time you had a taste of exactly what the real competition is like around here. After you've ordered your dvds and actually done your research, we'll see how cocky you are then. Because you're not going up against an Industrial Light & Magic monster from Hollywood, all style and no substance, or an Irish goon who disappears into the night. You're facing The Beast. I've survived the BattleBowl, I've broken chained monsters, I've nearly killed the man who used to be my best friend. And next Tuesday, I'll humble an overconfident jackass who doesn't know to do his research before opening his smart little mouth. Not as great an accomplishment as the ones I mentioned before, but I'll take what I can get.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (The walk light shines and Bruce crosses the street, deftly stepping around a homeless man with his hat out on the other corner.) Speaking of taking what I can get: my good friend Rex Caliber, in his infinite wisdom, decided to book me in this match instead of the Heavyweight Title match he knows I deserve. You might wonder why he would do such a thing, if he's trying to curry my favour. After all, if he wants to get on my good side, why would he insult me with this match? Well, for one thing, Rex isn't an idiot. He wants to dangle that title shot in my face, thinking that the memory our friendship might not be reason enough to join The Crimes. And he might be right. Like I said before, the only person who dislikes Bob Ravager as much as me is Rex Caliber. And the opportunity to lay a well-deserved beating on him AND get my hands on the NAPW gold? Is a pretty tempting opportunity. After all, who says no to the man running the company?

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Snaps his fingers.) Oh right. CA$H does. And that doesn't sit well with Rexy, so he sends The New Crimes after him, but that isn't enough. He wants to hurt Ca$h badly, not just in an after-the-fact beatdown, but give him a loss in the ring. And who better to do that than me? This match is all about Rex showing me what he can do to me. He can give me the keys to the kingdom where I can rule the NAPW just like he rules REBEL, or he can have me going up against third- and fourth-rate athletes, slumming it for the rest of his tenure.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Reaching the door of his beloved Second Cup.) Like I said, Rex is a smart guy. He's got me over a barrel. He can make me or he can break me. I'm a smart guy too. It's not a simple choice, although it might deceptively appear so. Ca$h made his choice, and he gets me for his troubles. What would I get if I said yes? What would I get if I said no? (He pulls open the door.) Sometimes you have to make the tough decisions. Even though you might not like what the right decision will do. I'm still making up my mind. If only Ca$h could say the same. He might have himself an easier time of it. Instead...he's got to face the music. He's got to face The Beast.

(Bruce enters the coffee shop and closes the door. Fade to black.)

[Ca$h]

Ca$h sits in a dark room, the only light coming from a muted TV in front of the couch. The screen shows the end of Battlebowl, the New And Improved DX celebrating a win by Bruce Richards. The camera pans to the side, and Ca$h turns to face it. The right side of his face is lit, leaving the left in stark shadowy contrast.

"Bruce Richards. 'The Beast'. Right. Some beast you are. You told me to go ahead and do my research, and I did. I found some pretty interesting things while I was at it, too.

You talk about what you've done, who you've beaten. You know what you are? A big blow-hard. I looked back through some records in this company. The only place I could find your name was as the winner of the Battlebowl. Out of eight men, you managed to eliminate two. You stood back and let a pair of brothers fight between each other, then you did a little cherry picking to toss out the winner of the two. Nice work there. So what did you get for that win, anyway? A shot at the NAPW Heavyweight title, which you promptly pissed away. As a matter of fact, unless my research is off, you never even cashed that shot in. Not even a title defense against you by the champ. So what happened there, Bruce? Not interested in singles gold?

Now, I'll grant you, you're one half of the most dominant tag team in this company, but there's no comparing singles titles to tag titles. Tag team matches give you the chance to let your partner carry you. Hell, even Barry Horowitz won a tag strap, when he was teamed up with Chick Donovan.

Of course, you're probably wondering what I've done in my career. Let's see... An eight-week reign as RKW World Heavyweight champ that started with a five-man battle royal, just two nights after my house burned down and I lost everything I cared for. Then a four-week run as RKW Hardknox champ, which concluded with a ladder match, in which I tore my rotator cuff, got up, and finished the match with one arm. Before all of that? How about unifying the SCWF and ICEWF Light Heavyweight championships? Being the first and only ICEWF Big Mouth champion? Any of that doing anything for you?

I'm not some cocky rookie. I'm not some wet-behind-the-ears punk-ass who doesn't know when to shut up. I'm what anyone with half a brain would call a threat to any title I get a shot at. I'm that guy that has a chance to end a career as quickly as I can end a title reign. I'm that guy that collects gold like kids collect Pokemon. I'm THAT. GUY.

The number one rule of this business is don't underestimate anyone. That advice goes double for anyone that's ever held a strap. I'm sure as hell not underestimating you. What I am going to do is prepare. I'm going to study every second of every one of your matches. I'm going to find your weaknesses, I'm going to analyze every move in your arsenal, and when it comes time to face you next Tuesday night, I'm going to know more about you than you do. That's where I have the advantage, you see. I can watch this video and find your tells. I can watch you telegraph your punches, and I'll be able to tell exactly what you're going to do before you act. I might even know what you have planned before you plan it. That's my strength outside the ring. Watching tape, finding weaknesses, and knowing how to exploit them. Of course then there's the fact that I've got a couple inches of height advantage, and I'm nearly 40 pounds lighter. Height and quickness, two very important facets of the business.

So, Bruce, I'd suggest that you take your own advice. Do your research. Know who you're going up against before you call them... What was it you called me?"

The image on the screen suddenly cuts to the video of Richards walking in the rain, and the words "overconfident jackass" escape his mouth. The video starts looping, and those words echo through the small apartment, repeating themselves over and over...

"Overconfident jackass. Overconfident jackass. Overconfident jackass. Overconfident jackass. Overconfident jackass..."

FADE TO BLACK

[Bruce "The Beast" Richards]

(The NAIT gym on a Friday afternoon is about one-third full; dedication runs a little low when it's a few hours before the official start of the weekend. But there are a few people inside who are committed, whatever their reasons. That girl on the stationary bike, she probably wants to lose a few pounds before swimsuit season. That guy on the elliptical machine, maybe his doctor told him to start exercising or risk getting a heart attack by the time he's thirty-five. That girl doing bench presses, possibly toning up for the volleyball team. But the two men in the corner, on the heavy bag, they're dedicated to one thing. NAPW. Bruce "The Beast" Richards, in a black t-shirt and track pants, hammers away at the bag, while Bill Fleming tries to hold the bag steady, shaking with every blow, and giving one of his inspirational and always-relevant pep talks.)

BILL FLEMING: It's a good thing you had last week to recover from Caliban, huh, Bruce. (Whomp.) I mean, not that I had any doubts, ha-ha, I mean, (whomp) sure at the start it was a little rough going, but you did it, (thud, thud) just like you always do, but I think (whomp) it was good to have some time off, take a break from things, work your way back into it. I mean, like this vegetarian girl I'm seeing, (thud) she was on the phone last night (whomp) talking all about how people who eat meat were no better than rapists and cannibals, and meanwhile (whomp) I'm on the other end of the phone, having a double-cheese, (thud) thinking, "Whoah, maybe we need to step back, take a break from all this." (WHOMP.) I mean, I like this girl, but do I like her better than a double-cheese? (Thud, thud.) So sometimes when things get a little overwhelming, (whomp) you just need to take a break, (WHOMP) step back (WHOMP), and look (WHOMP) at the big (WHOMP) picture.

(Bruce just lays into the bag, over and over again, as hard as he can. WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP. Bill shudders and pokes his head out from behind the bag.)

BILL FLEMING: How you feeling, champ?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Your pep talk's not really helping me focus on the match, Bill.

BILL FLEMING: I'm just trying to show you that taking a break form things can be good. Like when you took a break from wrestling last week, you got to mellow a little, be a part of Tagstravaganza and call the show, and now you're back and better than ever! So if, uh, there were other areas of your life you were worried about taking a break from, you know, it's not, uh, such a big deal. (Bruce narrows his eyes at him.) I mean, it's just a little...time... (Bill gulps and shuts up.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: I know what you were trying to do. It was not helping.

BILL FLEMING: Okay. Sorry, I--

BRUCE RICHARDS: Just shut up and hold this bag for me. I just need to hit things.

BILL FLEMING: (Hurt.) Look, if you don't need me around, champ, I can just--

BRUCE RICHARDS: And don't call me that.

BILL FLEMING: Fine. Bruce. I'm leaving. If you need me to do anything for you when I'm gone, that's fine, but I'm not going to sit here and take your abuse.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Sighs.) All right. I'd apologize, but it'd just be hollow and besides--

BILL FLEMING: Don't apologize. I've been your manager for a long time; I know when you need to just be alone and hit things. You were saying?

BRUCE RICHARDS: You can do a couple of managerial things for me while you're out. I need you to set up a couple of appointments for me this weekend.

BILL FLEMING: (Pulls out his Blackberry.) Lay it on me, ch--uh, boss.

BRUCE RICHARDS: First of all, I need you to call Terry Brandon.

BILL FLEMING: (Uneasy.) Ooooookay. Why?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Something Ca$h said yesterday. About how I "pissed away" the opportunity I was given at BattleBowl.

BILL FLEMING: (Shaking his head.) You're not going to listen to that jackass, are you? He's just talking smack!

BRUCE RICHARDS: I know that, Bill, but he's got a point. I've had this ring for seven months. I mean, with Joey Malone running things, there was no way I was going to be able to take that shot. And then after the dynasty fell apart...let's just say I was preoccupied. But now that I'm the number one contender AND I have the ring as contingency, there's no reason I shouldn't ask the new owner of the NAPW for a shot.

BILL FLEMING: And if he says no?

BRUCE RICHARDS: I'll know where I stand, at least.

BILL FLEMING: Fair enough. And the other?

BRUCE RICHARDS: I need you to call Static.

BILL FLEMING: What?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Call Static, Bill. I need to talk to him.

BILL FLEMING: I don't believe I heard you right. Because what I heard you say was that I needed to call the man who attacked me with a chair and humiliated me in front of the entire NAPW organization. He got Rex Caliber to powerbomb me onto a chair, for Pete's sake!

BRUCE RICHARDS: You forgave Rex for that.

BILL FLEMING: I never forgave Static. And I never will. I'm not calling him. You do it.

BRUCE RICHARDS: No, you do it.

BILL FLEMING: I just said--

BRUCE RICHARDS: I don't give a flying (BLEEP) what you just said Bill! You're my (BLEEP) manager, and until such time as I see fit to fire your ass, or you hand in a letter of resignation, you're going to act like it! Now, do your (BLEEP)ing job.

(Bill Fleming, furious, glares at his client, who turns his back and goes back to slamming his fists into the heavy bag. Fleming dials a number into his Blackberry, then turns and walks away.)

BILL FLEMING: Hey, Melanie, can you put me on the phone with Terry Brandon, please? Thanks, sugar...

(We fade down on Bruce Richards wailing away on the heavy bag. Fade back up as he walks out of the locker room, freshly showered, in another black t-shirt with a coffee cup on the chest, striding boldly through the hallways of NAIT. He addresses the camera, about to begin another streeter rant. Except, unlike in his first one, his good humour seems all used up.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: Ca$h. Congratulations. You managed to get under my skin. Normally I wouldn’t get nearly as bothered by your brand of “anything you can do I can do better” ramblings, but it’s not a normal time for me. Normally I’d have someone around to talk me out of doing things I know I shouldn’t be doing, but…I don’t have that luxury right now. You wanted to piss me off. You’re off to a great (BLEEP)ing start. Like intimating that for the first year and a half of my NAPW career I was carried to five tag team titles. Yeah, the last guy who insinuated that lived to regret it. But barely. I took that bullshit artist to task and when all was said and done he begged to get out of this company, and if you’re looking for the same treatment, keep flapping your gums about how I was the weak link in D-X. (Smiles.) Please. Keep it up. Give me another reason to want to knock your (BLEEP)ing teeth out.

(He slings his gym bag over his shoulder as he pushes through a set of double doors.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: Look, Ca$h, I’ll level with you. You’re a talented guy. I never disputed that fact. You think I called you ignorant because I thought you were some rookie and was ignorant of your previous accomplishments? No, I called you ignorant because, unlike me, you talk without being able to back yourself up. Yes, I studied you, Ca$h. I’ve seen some of your matches. I’ve done my research. I’ve studied your tapes. You got yourself a whole mess of championship belts, and unless you’re working for the WWE you don’t get title belts unless you’re talented. So I know for a fact you have skills. But you have to remember a couple of things. First of all, you can be a champion, or a former champion, AND STILL be an obnoxious blowhard. I mean, look at D! Oh, right, I forgot, you’re playing dumb about the history of this company, but I’m sure you’ve seen one of his matches. The point stands: just because you’ve won belts and have skill doesn’t mean you aren’t talking shit.

(Bruce kicks the doors to the parkade open and the cameraman has to walk quickly to keep up with him.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: You did your research, did you? You finally got around to watching all those dvds you ordered, huh? And the only thing you could think of was to talk about the AWARDS I’ve won? Yes, I won Battlebowl, and yes I won the tag straps five times. And yes, I’ve never held a singles title in the NAPW. But saying that I’m not talented because I’ve never held the Heavyweight or Provincial titles? You’re deluding yourself. That’s like saying Peter O’Toole or Richard Burton weren’t as good actors as Tom Hanks because he won Oscars and they never did. Now, I’m not saying Tom Hanks is a bad actor. But he’s no Richard Burton. Maybe you’d say that Led Zeppelin, Queen, Diana Ross, and Bob Marley were less talented than Culture Club, Lionel Richie, Britney Spears, and Michael Bolton, because they never won Grammys. Or, if you’re as ignorant of culture as you pretend to be of the NAPW, do you think that Roddy Piper was less talented than Batista? Or that Mr. Perfect wasn’t as good a wrestler as Brock Lesnar. Unless you’re as stupid as you pretend to be, of COURSE you don’t. So go ahead, pretend that my matches against Kyle Roberts, Caliban, and Sebastien Martyr AND Dan Ryan don’t mean anything because I never had a belt. And that’s just staying in 2007, to make it easy for you.

(Bruce stops by his car and shakes his head.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: You’re going to exploit my weaknesses, try and work on my left knee - there, Ca$h, I gave you one for free - and use your strengths to gain the advantage. That’s good. That’s what ANY wrestler would do. But you have old injuries, too, Ca$h. Trust me, when you get an injury that takes you out of commission for any length of time, you can come back, but it never heals back the way it used to be. I broke a man’s neck in the ring and I wasn’t even trying to do it. Think about what I could do to your shoulder if I really put my mind to it. Your extra height and lower weight are advantages to you; to me, they’re more to be exploited. That forty pound difference? It makes you easier to toss around the ring. It makes me have more of an impact with the Moonsault. And of course, it makes you easier to lift up for a Chart Attack. At least one.

(Bruce gets into in his car and starts the ignition.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: Rex Caliber singled you out as a guy who needed an ass-kicking, and the more you say, the more I’m inclined to agree with him. You messed with the wrong people when you came to the NAPW, Ca$h. Rex Caliber offered you a spot in The Crimes and you threw it away without thinking. That’s not a mistake I’m going to make. Trust me on that.

(He slams the door and peels out of the parking lot. Fade to black.)


OOC: You think that shirt doesn't exist? Click here, doubters!

[Bruce "The Beast" Richards]

(Barb & Ernie's is an Edmonton Institution. A restaurant opened in the early 80s by two Austrian immigrants making their way in Canada. It's had its fair share of ups and downs, nearly going bankrupt twice in the past two decades. But you sure wouldn't be able to tell that from how busy it is this Sunday morning. The place is PACKED; there isn't a single table free, and the wait staff are barely squeezing by. There's a bit of a ruckus coming from a table in the corner of the restaurant, though. Seated at that table are four of the most hated men in, well, if not Edmonton, then in the hearts of Edmonton's independent wrestling fans.)

STATIC: What the hell are we doing? It's been twenty minutes already.

DAVID BANKS: I have better things to do than sit around here drinking coffee, waiting for my ham and eggs and that chump to get here.

REX CALIBER: First of all, you got no leverage on that "I got better shit to do" today angle, Banks. You drank yourself to sleep last night, you aren't getting up for a ten a.m. workout. Second of all, that's no way to talk about the newest member of The New Crimes.

LLOYD REES: Yeah, but d'here's no actual guarantee dat yer (BLEEP)in' boy's gonna even gonna get in on dis business arrangement! And even if d'here was, I ain't so sure I want him around anyhow. D'hat larry's got his head on screwy.

DAVID BANKS: Yeah, that match he had two weeks ago at the supershow? You see the (BLEEP)ing look in that guy's eyes? You ask me, that guy needed an overnight stay in a mental institution, not a check-up at the hospital. Plus, now that his woman's gone, he's a dog off the leash!

STATIC: That's part of the point, Banks. Without that broad messing up his head, Bruce's finally got an even shot at things.

REX CALIBER: I liked Tiffany, okay, but she and Bruce...I never said it, but I always thought it was a bad combination. She had her way he would have been taking the safe bets the whole time, and he's the mother(BLEEP)ing Beast: he's not supposed to be wussing out. He needs to be rough and ready, looks cool but you never know, maybe he'll snap at any minute. And without her around, he's finally free to make his own decisions.

STATIC: He would NEVER have met with us if she was around. This is a golden opportunity for us, Banks.

LLOYD REES: But d'hat's just da point, me son. I'm not so sure I wants d'hat Wayne around anyhows. He gets his grubby mits on dat d'here Heavywight Belt, and d'hen we gonna have ourselves a wee problem.

REX CALIBER: What, Rees, two NAPW titles aren't enough for you? You need to make it three?

LLOYD REES: D'hat's not da point, b'y! If I wants ta get it, I don't want d'hat lummox in me way. I don't see da point clear to havin' him in da New Crimes anyhow.

STATIC: He hates Ravager, for a start.

DAVID BANKS: EVERYONE hates Ravager. You want someone who hates Ravager in The New Crimes? How about Joey Malone? Or Kevin Kodiak? You might not see it this way, Rex, but having Bruce Richards in The New Crimes just adds one more person to compete for prestige in the NAPW. Why do we need a fifth man when we're doing just fine with four?

REX CALIBER: Simple, Banks. You want to mess with Bruce Richards?

DAVID BANKS: What, with you and Static and Rees with me? Guy's dust.

REX CALIBER: Nuh-uh. Not with us. Just you and him. You really telling me you want to climb into the ring with him? You would have no second thoughts, no doubts, about getting in the ring with The Beast?

DAVID BANKS: Well...

REX CALIBER: THAT'S why we need him. You and Rees, hell, you're incredible wrestlers, but Bruce...he's got the...psychological edge, if you will. Anyone crosses us? They have to go through him. Plus, it'd be good to have a big animal like him. And let's not forget: we can hand him Bob Ravager and the NAPW Belt on a silver platter.

LLOYD REES: Yeah, real nice incentive f'r him, b'y. Why don' ye just give de man a blank (BLEEP)in' cheque as well?

STATIC: You'd best control your temper before Richards gets here, Rees. Otherwise--

VOICE: Otherwise what, exactly?

(The camera pans out, and Bruce Richards is standing just behind Static's chair. Static smiles as Rex stands up to shake Bruce's hand.)

REX CALIBER: Bruce! Glad you could make it.

BRUCE RICHARDS: I thought Static said it was just going to be the three of us.

DAVID BANKS: What, you got a problem with us, Richards?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Not yet, but keep up the attitude, Banks, and you might be GIVING me one.

STATIC: Boys, boys, no need to get nasty here! Bruce, sit down, please. If you have something to tell me or Rex, you can feel safe with Lloyd and David around. We're The New Crimes, baby! Five of us against the world!

(Bruce Richards glares across the table at Rees and Banks, who glare back at him. He glances at Rex, who gestures at the empty table.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: All right. Maybe you guys can tell me a little bit of what exactly you're expecting.

STATIC: We're just expecting you to come in and kick ass, Bruce. Just like you're going to kick Ca$h's ass this week, next week, who knows? Someone's going to deserve it. Sebastian Martyr, jake Phoenix, Stone Zellor--

BRUCE RICHARDS: Bob Ravager?

REX CALIBER: One thing at a time, Bruce.

BRUCE RICHARDS: One thing at a time, Rex? That's exactly what I'm talking about. Thing number one: destroy Ca$h. Thing number two: beat Ravager and get that belt. Thing number three: defend. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

REX CALIBER: Yeah, I know. But this is the kind of thing that's going to take some time.

BRUCE RICHARDS: I'm the number one contender, Rex. Number ONE. What the hell do you have to do to make that match happen?

REX CALIBER: The New Crimes aren't all about titles, Bruce. We don't want to appear to be too greedy. (He smiles at Rees and Banks smile at each other.) You get with us, you show us how loyal you are to the cause, then that loyalty is rewarded.

BRUCE RICHARDS: And by loyalty you mean using me to make examples of the people you don't like?

DAVID BANKS: Ca$h disrespected the greatest talents in the wrestling world. Someone's gotta show him, and others like him, that kind of behavior won't be tolerated.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Nodding his head.) Right. So, what, someone or something rubs you the wrong way, Banks, maybe you, I don't know, LOSE those title belts this week. You expect me to make an example of Casino? Or Astros?

LLOYD REES: (Pointing at Rex.) You do what dat man tells ya, and we'll get along jest fine, b'y. If ya don't, well d'hen, d'here's a whole nother problem ye got yerself inta.

STATIC: (Through gritted teeth.) But that's not something to talk about on an empty stomach. (Waves down a waitress.) Bruce, what'll you have?

BRUCE RICHARDS: You paying?

STATIC: I guess...

BRUCE RICHARDS: Great. (To the waitress.) I'll get the eggs benedict with streusel, extra hash browns, with a glass of orange juice and a slice of apple pie. Oh, and a coffee, please. (The waitress walks away, and he folds his hands and stares right at Lloyd Rees.) So. What else do you boys do for fun, other than make empty threats?

* * * * *

(The New Crimes walk out of the restaurant, full of delicious breakfasty goodness, and stumble out into the parking lot. David Banks is holding his stomach.)

DAVID BANKS: Oooh, I'm full up. I need to just go and sit somewhere until I can breathe properly again.

LLOYD REES: What're ye talkin' about, my son? We got ourselves a match ta be trainin' fer!

BRUCE RICHARDS: I told you not to have three pancakes with your ham and eggs.

DAVID BANKS: How was I supposed to know they'd each be as big as a plate?

BRUCE RICHARDS: By listening to me?

REX CALIBER: Aww, Banksy, it's okay, you go have yourself a little lie down if that's what you need. Dream of the tag team titles, and how you might just lose them if you don't get (BLEEP)ing focused and into that damn gym later today.

DAVID BANKS: I get ya, Rex. No need to be cruel about it.

STATIC: You two head out to the van; Rex and I have something we need to discuss with Bruce.

BRUCE RICHARDS: What happened to "you want to talk to one Crime, you talk to all of them"?

LLOYD REES: Yer not in da Crimes yet, my son.

REX CALIBER: Yet. You two, take a walk.

(Banks and Rees head over to a black van at the north end of the lot, while Bruce, Rex, and Static head to the car.)

REX CALIBER: So?

BRUCE RICHARDS: So what?

STATIC: Don't play dumb, Bruce. You've heard our case, and we've heard what you've had to say. Don't you think it's time you made a decision.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Static, I'm a business-minded guy. And one of the things you learn about negotiations is that you don't make a quick decision based on the quality of the meal you were bribed with.

REX CALIBER: Bribe! That's a low blow, Bruce.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Smiling.) It was a joke, Rex. Lighten up.

REX CALIBER: All right, all right. We'll give you some time to think about it. And who knows? You might get a little more incentive on Tuesday night.

BRUCE RICHARDS: If you're thinking about interfering with my match with Ca$h, forget about it, Rex. That's not going to happen. What's it going to look like to the fans if you need to have someone come in and help me take him out? It's either going to make me look weak, or make you look like you don't trust me to get the job done.

STATIC: We have faith in you, Bruce.

BRUCE RICHARDS: I know how it is, guys. Ca$h disrespects you, you need to make an example of him. And there's no better way of doing it than have me put the boots to him in the middle of the ring, "legally", no holds barred, and then give him a devastating loss. But it's going to look bad if you have Rees or Banks or even you come out to help me get that win. You brought me in because I'm a powerful man who can get the job done; if you run in, it looks like I need help. And I don't. I can take down Ca$h just fine by myself. He's good, but I've taken down better men than him, and I didn't need anyone to help me out. He's got an old injury to exploit, and a hell of an ego to burst. I know exactly how to take him apart, physically and psychologically, and I don't mean to be crass but I'm going to enjoy every second of it. But I don't want to see any New Crimes at ringside. Otherwise...I might get so angry I won't be responsible for my actions. If we're going to do this Crimes thing, you're going to have to listen to what I say. We're going to have to come up against a compromise. You guys will have to trust me.

REX CALIBER: Whatever, Bruce, I get the picture. You don't want anyone at ringside, I promise I won't show up. I can't speak for Rees and Banks, but I'll try and convince them. But you have to remember something. We asked you into The New Crimes because we need you, yeah. But don't go getting an overinflated view of yourself. You get a little latitude to make your own decisions, but you don't get to do everything you want any time you want, and you don't get to order me around. You're my friend, Bruce, but don't think that friendship is going to interfere with the way I run my ship.

STATIC: But that's not going to be a problem, right? After all, what's good for one Crime is good for the rest. You need some time to think about it, right Bruce? We trust you'll make the right choice.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Thanks, Static. And thanks for breakfast. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few other appointments to keep today.

(Bruce gets in his car and drives off. Rex and Static wave, and then start talking to each other as they make their way back to the van.)

STATIC: What do you think?

REX CALIBER: I think we're close. I mean, I bought his meal, and we know how he loves his breakfast. He might be a little hard to manage at first, but I think he's worth the trouble.

STATIC: He's good, all right. I just hope you're right about him being worth it.

(Fade out as Rex and Static hop in the van and drive away.)


(Lloyd Rees, David Banks, Static, and Rex Caliber all used with very gracious permission.)

[Ca$h]

As Bruce Richards talks with two parts of The New Crimes outside of Barb and Ernie's, a silver sedan sits on the other side of the parking lot, the polarized windshield obscuring the driver from view. The three men discuss business, unknowingly being watched from just 50 yards away. Lipreading from that distance may be an effort in futility, but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what they're talking about.

Cut to the inside of the sedan. Ca$h sits in the driver's seat, staring ahead through the windshield. If looks could kill, everyone in the Edmonton metropolitan area would be pushing up daisies right now. Luckily for Caliber, Richards, and Static, Ca$h hasn't quite picked up heat vision yet. He speaks to our trusty cameraman, eyes never leaving his next opponent, or Bruce's new friends.

"You know, Bruce, aside from analyzing your matches and training for this Tuesday, I've had some free time this weekend. You know what I did last night? I watched some movies. I ordered a pizza, cracked a beer, and watched movies all night. One of my favorites was on. The Color Of Money. A classic. Paul Newman, Tom Cruise, that chick that played Pacino's sister in Scarface... Anyway, I've seen it a few times before, but I never really watched it before, you know what I mean? Before, it was always just a good movie about pool sharks. This time, something was different. It's like I finally caught the hidden message in the Alpha-bits or something. Like the Little Orphan Annie decoder ring just came in the mail and I could finally figure out the code on the show, which turned out to be "Drink Ovaltine", but I digress. That movie, it's more than a story about Newman and Cruise hustling nine-ball. It's a life lesson.

You see, there are two kinds of people in this world, Bruce. There are the conmen, and there are the marks. If you're not one, you're the other. And you, my friend, and no conman. You're probably the easiest read I've ever seen. When I watched you stare down Static at the end of Tagstrav, I could see it in your eyes. You looked like a man with everything to lose and nothing more to gain. A mark, ripe for the picking.

To put it plain and simple for you, Richards... You got hustled. You're getting hustled as I speak, as a matter of fact. I'm sitting here right now, watching Caliber and Static con you into joining up with them. Their probably giving you lines like "We need you, Bruce," and telling you how much better you can do, if you just come over to their side of the playground. They're playing you for a fool, aren't they? Trying to bribe you with breakfast, buttering you up so you're more apt to see things their way. I've got to say, you're an easier mark than I first thought. Pancakes and bacon, and Bruce Richards comes running. I'm a steak and eggs man myself, but I'm also not Julia Child, so that's a discussion for another day."

The black van and the other car pull out of the lot as all the parties involved finish whatever business it was they had. Ca$h follows suit, turning the ignition in the rental and putting it in gear. His foot stays on the brakes for an extra second as he turns back to the camera again.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, Bruce, is don't trust every smiling face out there. I thought you'd know that by now, but I guess some people never learn..."

FADE TO BLACK

[Bruce "The Beast" Richards]

(You wouldn't expect the NAPW offices to be very busy on a Sunday afternoon. But now that Terry Brandon's in charge, things are changing around. He's strutting around, smiling at all the female staff and slapping all the male staff on the back...and that guy on the ass. Let's not dwell on it. He's barking out orders, changing the place around to fit his highly demanding standards.)

TERRY BRANDON: Come on people, look alive! New boss, new look! This place has been dark and bland for far too long; now that Terry Brandon is running the show, this place is going to look GOOD. Good like Classy Freddy Blassie decked out in a three-piece suit. (Snaps his fingers.) Alannah! Get some more plants in here; it looks like a friggin' morgue or something. And open some curtains, get some light in this place. I don't wanna feel like I'm walking into a dungeon every time I get to work! (Stands by the coffee corner, hands on his hips.) And where the hell's my espresso machine? I'm not going to drink some generic sludge first thing in the morning; Terry Brandon is nothing without his first skim milk double cappucino of the morning. Dammit, people, didn't you put up ANY of my changes? Did NONE of you read the memo? (As he makes his way into his office, he walks past a large framed portrait of Terry Brandon, giving the thumbs-up and grinning like a shark.) Well, somebody read my memo. Keep up the good work, people!

(Brandon walks into his office and it's a big change from the way Rex kept it decorated. The wardrobe's still there, as is the liquor table, but there are more floor lamps, and track lighting above the desk. On the wall behind the desk is another portrait of Terry Brandon, this time looking pensively out a rainy window. There are also a lot of awards, pictures, and newspaper clippings on south-facing wall; the rich purple drapes are wide open, bringing a lot of light into the room. Brandon goes over to pour himself a drink and jumps a little as he turns back to the door. Bruce Richards is standing in the doorway.)

TERRY BRANDON: Holy spit, Richards, you're like a (BLEEP) cat! Where'd you come from?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Your door was open so I thought I'd let myself in.

TERRY BRANDON: Absolutely. Can I get you a drink or something? Rum, rye, scotch, whiskey, vodka, cranberry juice?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Scotch?

TERRY BRANDON: Glenlivet.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Two fingers.

TERRY BRANDON: (Smiling.) Excellent. (He pours the drink and gives it to Bruce, then gestures at the chair in front of the desk.) Have a seat, bruce, have a seat.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Thanks, Terry. I like what you've done with the place.

TERRY BRANDON: The place needed a little freshening up. I mean, Rex is a hell of a guy, I mean, a hell of a guy, but the guy's got about as much style as a colour-blind lemming.

BRUCE RICHARDS: A strange thing to say about your boss.

TERRY BRANDON: Uh, well, you know, I call them like I see them. (Quieter.) You won't tell Rex I said that, will you?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Your secret's safe with me, Terry.

TERRY BRANDON: (Slaps the desk.) That's what I like about you, Bruce, you're a stand-up guy. You remind me of a young Matthew "The Rifleman" Rhodes, back in my LBW days. Little rough around the edges, and a temper on him like a mandrill in heat, but a class act, through and through.

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Sips his scotch.) Thanks.

TERRY BRANDON: So, Bruce, what can I do for you today? (Takes a large drink from his glass.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: I'm calling my title shot.

(Terry Brandon coughs, still holding his glass to his lips. He takes another swallow, then another, and then drains it. He puts the glass down on the table and stares at Bruce, his eyes watering.)

TERRY BRANDON: Uh, what?

BRUCE RICHARDS: (Taking another drink.) I'm calling my shot. I'm the number one contender and I'm calling my shot.

TERRY BRANDON: Yeah, well, Bruce I don't know if that's such a good idea right now. I mean, you have other things to think about.

BRUCE RICHARDS: What, like my match with Ca$h? The guy's good, but he's just an obstacle on the road to the top. A road I should be at the end of, but for some reason, you have me fighting the eighth contender for the belt?

TERRY BRANDON: Well, Bruce, I'm sure you know my position.

BRUCE RICHARDS: It's not your position I'm interested in, Terry. It's mine. Number one. I deserve a shot at that title.

TERRY BRANDON: (Putting on his used-car-salesman act.) Yeah, well, you see, Bruce, things are kind of complicated right now. I mean, what with Rex passing over the NAPW to me, there's a lot of...paperwork involved. And he's tied up with a lot of things, the problems he's had with Ca$h are just a symptom of the underlying problem. He doesn't have time to sign off on everything right now, which makes my job a little difficult. You could put in the request, but it still has to go through the proper channels. With all the other forms I have to go through, it could be weeks before you get that title shot. Maybe months. (Smiles again.) But who knows? Maybe, somehow, things get easier for Rex in the next couple of weeks. Then, all my paperwork gets cleared up, and who knows? You might just be facing Bob Ravager for that title by the middle of June after all.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Right.

TERRY BRANDON: Anything else I can help you with, bruce?

BRUCE RICHARDS: No thanks, Terry, you've been very helpful. (Standing up from the chair.) Should I file my official request, before I leave, then?

TERRY BRANDON: (Standing up as well.) Bruce, you want to make an official request, all you have to do is tell me.

BRUCE RICHARDS: I want that shot.

TERRY BRANDON: (Shakes Bruce's hand.) I'll grease the wheels and have them spinning before you even leave the property.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Thanks.

TERRY BRANDON: Don't mention it, Bruce. Say hi to Rex for me.

BRUCE RICHARDS: Okay.

(Bruce walks out the door, and Terry Brandon sits down at his desk and smiles. Then, he pulls flips up his laptop screen and starts typing.)

* * * * *

(Sunday night. Bruce Richards's apartment. He's sitting on his couch, backlit from the city lights shining in through his window. He addresses the camera.)

BRUCE RICHARDS: Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours until Tuesday Night Fights. Forty-eight hours until I square off with Ca$h and deliver that sweet, sweet beating that Rex Caliber's called down on him. Do I like being the instrument of The New Crimes' vengeance? (Shakes his head.) No. I don't. I won't get any pleasure from beating Ca$h tomorrow, other than the rush I get every time I step in the ring. Whether it's in A1E, REBEL Pro, MCW, or my home, the NAPW, I get in that ring and I get a surge of adrenaline I don't get anywhere else. The smell of sweat and anger. The crowd shouting at me, doesn't matter if they're cheering me or hurling insults. And the violence, well, nobody who's in this business will deny that it's nice to work out your frustrations on someone else, even if they don't really deserve it. And unluckily for Ca$h, I have a LOT of frustrations to work out on him.

BRUCE RICHARDS: I've got a relationship that I don't know the status of. I've got people stopping me on the street, screaming obscenities at me and threatening me if I end up joining The Crimes. I've got people stopping me on the street and screaming obscenities and threatening me if I DON'T end up joining The Crimes. I've got a number-one contendership position and nothing to show for it. So yeah, when Tuesday night comes, if I seem a little tense, there's a reason. There are plenty of reasons.

BRUCE RICHARDS: I'm glad Ca$h had time to relax and watch movies this weekend. I didn't. I had business to attend to. But I'm glad he got to watch The Colour of Money. Not as good as The Hustler, but it's still decent, and yeah, you're right Ca$h, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio does a pretty good job. And I'm a sucker for Paul Newman. So I'm glad you had some time off to enjoy yourself.

BRUCE RICHARDS: And I'm touched, in a very strange way, that you're worried about me. I'm getting hustled by Rex and Static, huh? You sure about that? You ABSOLUTELY sure? There's not a doubt in your mind that they can give me a free breakfast, make things a little difficult for me, and then I'm right where they want me? It never once crossed your mind that I might be playing them? Or that I want to be right in there with them? I know exactly what they can do for me, either way I play it. I have to think about the future. Right now, I have no woman and no prospects for advancement. With The Crimes...who knows?

BRUCE RICHARDS: Ca$h, you're sticking your nose in where you don't belong. Like I said, it's oddly sweet, really, that you think you have to look out for my well being. But I already have someone looking out for me. Me. So stop worrying about me. Really, I'll be all right. I'll be just fine. Who you really need to start looking out for is Ca$h. Because when he steps into the ring with me, all those other troubles? Don't mean ANYTHING when you have The Beast coming down on you. You'll get off a few shots, I'll get off a few more, and then it's nothing left to do but the Chart Attack, and you'll be done. And I'll move on to the next phase in my career. The sky's the limit, Ca$h. Think about that when you're on your back in the ring, looking up at it.

(Fade to black.)




EDITED FOR TERRY BRANDONS.