Post by maniac on Jan 19, 2006 0:39:56 GMT -5
<<<<SCENE>>>>
{He wasn’t afraid of the dark, never had been, in fact there was something about it he found comforting. But not this time, this time there was something different.}
{He wanted to open his eyes but he couldn’t, he was afraid of what would come of it if he did. Funny that a man who claimed to be afraid of nothing and no one was too afraid to open his eyes and he didn’t even know why. He reminded himself constantly of who he was, of what he had become in life, of all the things he had accomplished, but for some reason they didn't help, not this time. He still couldn't move and worse still he still couldn’t open his eyes to see why. As he sat there his courage slowly slipped away like sand between his fingers, but he remembered why he had courage before. The people he had come to trust, his friends… his family. As long as he had them he could do anything, or at least he felt as though he could. He’d felt that way from the first day he’d met his wife. He focused on her, on his daughter and on all the happy memories they’d shared and slowly opened his eyes.}
{The light blinded him and he tried to shield his eyes but couldn’t so he just blinked and tried to let his eyes adjust to the blinding white light. He narrowed his eyes as much as possible, squinting and trying to avoid the light as he looked down to see what was preventing him from moving only to find that his entire upper body was encased in a straightjacket, also white, also bright and also unexplainably strange. He didn’t panic though, he never panicked, there had to be a reasonable explanation for this, right? Well, that’s what he told himself anyway. He did his best to remain calm as he thought about a way out but his mind was blank. There was no reason for him to be here, wherever here was, and no one around to help him free himself. He struggled in the jacket but it was too tight, he couldn’t even get a proper breath so he struggled with everything he had to sit up and that was when he noticed it, a door just to his left that he hadn’t seen before. He pushed himself to get to his feet, staggering toward the door and slamming up against it, looking out of the small window in hopes of finding someone to help him.}
{But there was nobody. In fact there was nothing at all, just darkness. His mind began racing, desperately trying to think of who could have done this to him, it wouldn’t be the first time he was abducted after all, but he couldn’t think of anybody. Still he knew it had to be a mistake, he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was Maniac, a world wide superstar, a man of near infinite renown; surely there must be somebody to come to his aid. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong.}
"Haven't you?"
{The voice startled him and he spun around but lost his balance, falling down to the padded floor hard but he didn't feel the impact. That was the point in it after all, wasn’t it? The man before him was dressed in a long brown robe and was heavily hooded. He kept his hands clasped together in front of him; looking at Michael Thomas with icy blue eyes that only seemed to intensify the longer he stared. He took his hands out of the brown robe and took his hood down, revealing his long, astoundingly white hair. His look was that of marble and it wouldn't have surprised Michael if he was carved from the stuff. Slowly he pulled himself up again, swallowing hard.}
Michael Thomas: I don’t know who you are, but you have to help me. I don't belong here...
{With a wave of his hand, the man stopped him.}
Cloaked Man: Why are you so certain? Then tell me, why are you here?
Michael Thomas: That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out!
Cloaked Man: Well then you do belong here!
{He was about to protest when the man once again rose his hand and stopped him.}
Cloaked Man: You cannot fight this, Michael, for it is not a dream, nor is it reality. What it is, however, is a vision, as you may like to call it.
{Michael looked at him hard, then raised an eyebrow.}
Michael Thomas: What?! Look I have no idea what you're talking about, I just need some help. Do you think you could help me with this straight jacket? It's too tight, I can barley breath.
Cloaked Man: ENOUGH!!
{There was power in his voice, an intensity powered by his age. He wasn't a joke, Michael thought, he seemed to know what he was talking about and Michael felt compelled to obey him. Maybe that was why he had stopped talking on command. Michael waited, thinking the man would help him, but he simply turned his back.}
Cloaked Man: Listen to what I have to say, Michael Thomas. I have watched you progress through your life with much amusement and much disappointment. In the beginning however, I was pleased.
{He turned to glare as Michael went to protest.}
Cloaked Man: Don't say anything, just listen.
{Unable to disobey, Michael continued to stand there in silence and listen.}
Cloaked Man: I've watched you all this time, still a person of such great talent... and you let it go to waste! You have become a drone, and you stick to whatever works for you. You cannot be stuck in such ways, Michael. Change is a blessing, something that most people cannot see. Look over the next hill, look beyond yourself and your being. It's only proper you do so.
{He smirked.}
Cloaked Man: I've watched you grow as a wrestler, as a husband and a father but, more importantly, as a man, a person. You've done yourself proud and it would do me a great honor to see you continue to succeed as you have done, but to do so you must work at it, you have to try harder, and most of all... you have to think outside the box, my young friend.
{He walked to over to Michael who took a step backward, worried about what might happen next.}
Michael Thomas: Outside the box?
Cloaked Man: Think about it! Symbolic means to the symbolic end. If you trust in your feelings, you can never be wrong. Take your losses as well as your victories with dignity and grace and most of all, learn from your mistakes. Now it’s time for you to start over.
{“Start over?” he thought and just like that he was back in the centre of the padded room, on the ground and trapped in the straight jacket once more. No door with a window leading to eternal darkness, no robed man with hair as white as snow, just him and what the man had described as 'symbolic means to the symbolic end.' Was it a test? He was smart and he knew what the old man was talking about. Swallowing hard he closed his eyes for the count of ten and opened them again, hoping for an easy solution or even another man to tell him what he must do but there was nothing. He knew it was down to him to get out of here. First and foremost, he noticed the straight jacket. It was binding, powerful and suffocating. The man has said he was afraid of change, that Michael couldn't handle it in a way. He knew he was right.}
{It was a trap, he thought, a bond that couldn't be broken by sheer force alone. Could that be his problem, was he to quick to use force to solve his problems and not think them through first like he did in the old days? No, he thought about every action before he took it, thought of the consequences and of what he could get out of it. Was he trapping himself then? He quickly dismissed the idea, after all he showed resilience, a trait so often discarded for other ones. Could that, in itself, bind him to the battle against change? Again he dismissed the idea, just because he didn’t give in didn’t mean that he wasn’t willing to evolve. There was still another possibility though, that he could somehow be holding himself back from his true potential. In every situation he always saved the best for last, used his best material, his final burst of energy, when it mattered most. But could that really be holding him back? Perhaps this wasn’t about being held back after all; perhaps it was more about realising why he’d grown accustomed to the same patterns. He’d put everything he had in to perfecting his craft, becoming the very best he could be, so much so that maybe somewhere along the line he’d forgotten the reason for doing so, so caught up in the end result. He’d forgotten the thrill of the battle, the rush he got when he’d overcome the impossible and against all odds actually won. As he thought this the straightjacket seemed to loosen a little.}
{He remembered back when he’d first begun that it wasn’t about being the best, it was simply about the thrill of the battles, the thrill of chasing the gold, chasing the dream. He would run down to the ring for no other reason than to engage in battle with his peers, to prove himself the better man and prove that whatever he had said in the week preceding was indeed the truth. Now all he cared about was the end result, he’d forgotten that the path was just as enjoyable as the end. After a while he’d begun to hold back, presuming himself unbeatable and forgetting what it took to get him to that point. He’d grown accustomed to five star treatment, forgotten that even the best have to prove themselves every once in a while. That had made him weak, worst still it had meant that he had grown normal and that was unacceptable as far as he was concerned. The straight jacket loosened a little more and finally fell off. He took a moment to look at it, realising his mistakes now, before he cast it aside and set his mind on the next problem, the room.}
{It was all more symbolism but what did it mean? He knew that he would have to change, or at least realize the right path, but simply stating that he needed to change wouldn’t make a difference, he could say it until his gums began bleeding and still he’d be trapped here. So he got up and began to look around. There was no obvious exit, to escape here he would have to do it in the same way he escaped the straightjacket. If this wasn’t about physical limitations then what could it be? Mental limitations perhaps? The walls wavered a little but not enough. Ok, limitations of the heart? The room shifted for a moment and the walls changed shape but he was still trapped, however he was at least on the right path.}
Michael Thomas: What do you want from me? You want me to say I’m heartless? Thoughtless for those whom my actions effect?
{Nothing! He sat on the floor of the room thinking for a moment about his friends and his family. There were times when he wasn’t a good person to be around, he knew that but then everybody had those times, times when everything seemed to be against them. There were few people who he could trust in times like that though and maybe there was a reason for that, maybe he’d become what he’d always imagined everyone who wanted success had to be, an egotistical, loudmouthed and obnoxious fool. The room began to shift back to the way it was and he swore to himself, if that wasn’t it then what was? Maybe it wasn’t about not caring enough, maybe it was about how his actions affected those he did care about. The room began to change again so he went with that thought.}
Michael Thomas: Amber.
{She was just a kid now, too young to remember anything that was happening, but she wouldn’t always be. Of course he considered himself a good father, he would do anything for his daughter to assure her safety and that she always had the best in life, all the things that he never had. And what he never had hit him hard, a father! He would be there of course, he would provide for her future, but she needed more than that. She didn’t need somebody who was more obsessed with his work than his family, somebody who always took his work home with him. She needed somebody she could talk to, somebody who had time to take care of her problems, somebody that he never had. Wrestling would always be there but she wouldn’t, if he didn’t take more care of her soon then soon she’d be lost to him forever. Was that what this all meant, that he had to pay her more attention and show her the kind part of himself, the part that would tell her a story and give her a kiss when she was down, not the side who would rattle on about the good old days, about how he used to mean something. He didn’t want to become that kind of father.}
{Sometimes he would look down at her while she slept and think about what her future might bring and now he realized that he had a chance to provide a better life for her than he had had growing up. Life was hard, he knew that as well as most, but he had the chance now to provide a good life for his family and he knew he had to take it, if not for himself or for Noelle, then for her and for her children, he definitely didn’t want to be remembered as the grandfather who constantly grumbled and who didn’t trust a soul. He wanted her to grow up happy with her life, content with the decisions she was making and knowing that he would always be there to guide her should she ever come off the path.}
{It was then that he noticed the room had changed around him even as he sat there. Gone were the padded walls, they were replaced with a warm country cottage with a fire roaring and soft music playing in the background. He walked over to the comfortable armchair that seemed to call out to him and put his feet up, thinking about everything he’d just been through. He had to learn to focus on the present, enjoy the moment and not always obsess about the ultimate goal but more import than that he had to learn to take a break from the business, not dedicate his whole life to it and not let it occupy his thoughts twenty-four hours a day. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around. He was back in his bed with his wife lying peacefully beside him. Carefully he climbed out of bed and pushed the door open, walking down the hallway to the room that served as the nursery. He stood in the doorway and looked down at Amber sleeping peacefully and smiled again, being careful not to wake her.}
Michael Thomas: Thank you…
{He whispered so quietly even he could barely hear himself, but then he wasn’t really talking to her, more to himself. He returned to bed, slipping back underneath the duvet and shutting his eyes again when he heard his wife’s voice whispering to him.}
Noelle Thomas: You ok?
{He nodded, thinking afterward that she probably couldn’t see that and then responded.}
Michael Thomas: I’m fine. Just had a weird dream is all, I’ll tell you about it in the morning.
{And with that he closed his eyes again, hoping this time for a less bizarre dream as he drifted off to sleep once more.}
<<<<END SCENE>>>>
{When you were a child did you get excited when the doorbell rang and you knew the postman had something you’d been waiting for on the other side? It may have been a while since I was a kid, but today I got that same rush when I awoke to find that one of the guards had brought in my mail this morning and lying at the bottom of the pile was a large brown box. I knocked the rest of the mail to one side, ignoring it for a moment and focusing completely on this box, picking it up and taking it through to my office without saying a word. Noelle saw this and followed me curiously, sitting on the edge of the desk as I grabbed my penknife and cut it open, pulling out a series of smaller boxes and a large flat chessboard.}
Noelle Thomas: When did you start playing chess?
Michael Thomas: I’ve always played chess; I’ve got a proper board over there somewhere with two sets of pieces just in case Amber decided to play with some of them. This, however, is something different…
{I rubbed my hands together excitedly as I opened some of the boxes, pouring chess pieces on to the board and then picking them up and placing them in one of the drawers of my desk for safe keeping. Then I opened the remaining boxes and as each of the pieces fell on to the board Noelle began to laugh. There were eighteen in total, nine white and nine black, and each of them was custom made and resembled one of the men in NAPW. Not exactly your ordinary chess set which traditionally had only sixteen pieces, but as you should know by now, I play by my own rules. Noelle picked a couple of them up and grinned.}
Noelle Thomas: Ok, this is cute! Where the hell did you get it?
Michael Thomas: Old friend of mine used to make stuff like this for a living so I called in a favor and they do look pretty great, don’t they?
{Noelle looked at them one at a time, handing them to me when she was done so I could set them up on the board. When they were all lined up I grinned to myself, looking down each side. On the right hand side where the black pieces, each representing a different wrestler. First there was Axle Jaxx, then D!, J.C. Cook, Chris Casino, myself, Predator, Ravager, Minstrel, and finally Static. On the left hand side the pieces in white. First Rex Caliber, followed by Apocalypse, Don Travelli, Lobo, Technique, Thunder, The Crusher, Mark Miller, and finally, Evan Cartwright.}
Noelle Thomas: So, what you going to do with them all? You can hardly play chess, you’ve got no pawns.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} They’re all pawns in the bigger picture. Now let’s see, who can I get rid of right away?
Noelle Thomas: Get rid of?
{I flick the Axle Jaxx piece off the board and look back up at her.}
Michael Thomas: He’s a non-factor, we already know that.
{She picks up the Axle Jaxx piece and laughs at it as I flick off Mark Miller, Lobo, Ravager, Technique, Apocalypse, Static, The Crusher, Predator, Thunder, Technique, and Rex Caliber as well.}
Michael Thomas: Ok, now we’re down to just the guys with half a chance.
Noelle Thomas: {grins} You forgot Don Travelli.
Michael Thomas: Oh sh(BLEEP)t.
{I flick the Travelli piece off the board as well.}
Michael Thomas: Thanks for that, I forgot he was even there, but then again what reason has he ever given me to acknowledge him as anything more than an unpaid extra?
Noelle Thomas: {laughs} You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
Michael Thomas: {nods} Maybe just a little!
{I turn to the camera and grin, looking back over the board at the remaining for a moment and laughing.}
MANIAC: So Joker’s Wild is the big showdown, huh? Maniac versus Cartwright two. Round one goes to the Lord of the Ring. Round two? It goes to the King of Kings. See, last Monday night was nothing more than a formality, Evan. You can win all the meaningless battles you want, and it’ll all add up to absolutely nothing in the long run. The fact of the matter is this…all you proved to me on Monday night was that you know deep within yourself that you can’t beat me. You can’t keep me down, you can’t out wrestle me…all you can do is hope and pray that the ref turns his back long enough for your little bum chum manager to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.
[He grins.]
MANIAC: You made a cardinal mistake. I was planning on keeping things clean, since Lord knows I don’t need to cheat to beat an insignificant punk like yourself. But if you wanna play dirty? I can play that way, too, little man. All bets are now off. I was going to save the whole “most unpredictable son of a bitch in the game” side of me bottled up and saved for a rainy day, but you just had to pop the cork, didn’t you? It’s a mistake you’ll live to regret, kid…because I’ve played mind games with the best of ‘em. Jimmy Blast, Jeff Jericho, Paul Blair…men who could wipe their ass and produce a used piece of toilet paper with more talent than you. I’ve outsmarted them all. And rest assured I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve…tricks that you don’t want to see, kid.
[He looks over at his wife, who is grinning ear to ear as she recalls some of Maniac’s more infamous schemes.]
MANIAC: You talk about how I gave you an inch and you decided the outcome of the match. Correction, little man…my imbecile partner became too caught up in his own stupid little agenda that he forgot there was a match going on. You didn’t change the outcome of the match, your idiot manager did. But see, it doesn’t even matter. If it helps you sleep better at night if you’ve managed to convince yourself that you can actually go toe to toe with me and win, then more power to ya. But it doesn’t change the cold hard facts. One on one, I beat your ass all over the arena two weeks ago. I beat your ass in the ring, I had you on the verge of tapping out, I beat your manager’s ass, and then I took you out to the parking lot and beat your ass some more. In a nutshell, I dominated you. Newsflash…this Monday night we’re going one on one. This isn’t a tag team match. Your partner can’t hold your hand, your manager would be wise to stay in the back, and let’s face it…I’ve proven it once and I’ll prove it again, one on one you can’t lace my boots.
But onto this one other thing I’ve got on my mind…
[He knocks J.C. Cook’s piece off the board.]
MANIAC: Cook…what the hell kind of a man are you? One week you’re talking smack…then you find out we’re gonna be in the ring together so you kiss my ass and take back everything you said the previous week….now you’re back to talking smack because you were nowhere to be found while Terry Brandon was getting involved in the match? Please. You’re grasping at straws now.
If I were you, I’d shut my damn mouth. You know I can destroy you with the snap of my fingers…that’s why you kissed my ass all last week. And if there was any doubt, I proved it on Monday night when you dropped like a fly to the Headhunter. Shut your pie hole and maybe I’ll let you slide this one final time. You flap your gums about me once more and I’ll be forced to unleash hell and make sure you never do it again.
{I go to knock down the white king, the Evan Cartwright piece, but stop myself, pulling my hand back and grinning to myself. Noelle looks at me confused, going to knock it down herself but I stop her hand.}
Michael Thomas: Leave it.
Noelle Thomas: Why?
Michael Thomas: It’ll be far more satisfying to knock it over Monday night when I’ve come through on my word yet again.
{She smiles and I help her off the desk, looking at the collection of fallen pieces surround the board and laughing. Joker’s Wild would be something I’d never forget because it'd be the night I made history once again.}
MANIAC: As for the rest of you…the Chris Casinos, D!s, and Minstrel’s of the world…rest assured your time will come. Before long it’ll be check and mate for every last one of you.
But Monday night, at the Baccarat Casino...Evan Cartwright, you’re gonna find out first hand exactly what I mean when I tell you I am the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, and the most unpredictable son of a god damn bitch this business has ever seen.
And you won’t EVER forget it.
{I grin and leave the room to find Noelle, leaving the chess pieces scattered across the table and on the floor.}
{Scene fades to black.}
{He wasn’t afraid of the dark, never had been, in fact there was something about it he found comforting. But not this time, this time there was something different.}
{He wanted to open his eyes but he couldn’t, he was afraid of what would come of it if he did. Funny that a man who claimed to be afraid of nothing and no one was too afraid to open his eyes and he didn’t even know why. He reminded himself constantly of who he was, of what he had become in life, of all the things he had accomplished, but for some reason they didn't help, not this time. He still couldn't move and worse still he still couldn’t open his eyes to see why. As he sat there his courage slowly slipped away like sand between his fingers, but he remembered why he had courage before. The people he had come to trust, his friends… his family. As long as he had them he could do anything, or at least he felt as though he could. He’d felt that way from the first day he’d met his wife. He focused on her, on his daughter and on all the happy memories they’d shared and slowly opened his eyes.}
{The light blinded him and he tried to shield his eyes but couldn’t so he just blinked and tried to let his eyes adjust to the blinding white light. He narrowed his eyes as much as possible, squinting and trying to avoid the light as he looked down to see what was preventing him from moving only to find that his entire upper body was encased in a straightjacket, also white, also bright and also unexplainably strange. He didn’t panic though, he never panicked, there had to be a reasonable explanation for this, right? Well, that’s what he told himself anyway. He did his best to remain calm as he thought about a way out but his mind was blank. There was no reason for him to be here, wherever here was, and no one around to help him free himself. He struggled in the jacket but it was too tight, he couldn’t even get a proper breath so he struggled with everything he had to sit up and that was when he noticed it, a door just to his left that he hadn’t seen before. He pushed himself to get to his feet, staggering toward the door and slamming up against it, looking out of the small window in hopes of finding someone to help him.}
{But there was nobody. In fact there was nothing at all, just darkness. His mind began racing, desperately trying to think of who could have done this to him, it wouldn’t be the first time he was abducted after all, but he couldn’t think of anybody. Still he knew it had to be a mistake, he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was Maniac, a world wide superstar, a man of near infinite renown; surely there must be somebody to come to his aid. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong.}
"Haven't you?"
{The voice startled him and he spun around but lost his balance, falling down to the padded floor hard but he didn't feel the impact. That was the point in it after all, wasn’t it? The man before him was dressed in a long brown robe and was heavily hooded. He kept his hands clasped together in front of him; looking at Michael Thomas with icy blue eyes that only seemed to intensify the longer he stared. He took his hands out of the brown robe and took his hood down, revealing his long, astoundingly white hair. His look was that of marble and it wouldn't have surprised Michael if he was carved from the stuff. Slowly he pulled himself up again, swallowing hard.}
Michael Thomas: I don’t know who you are, but you have to help me. I don't belong here...
{With a wave of his hand, the man stopped him.}
Cloaked Man: Why are you so certain? Then tell me, why are you here?
Michael Thomas: That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out!
Cloaked Man: Well then you do belong here!
{He was about to protest when the man once again rose his hand and stopped him.}
Cloaked Man: You cannot fight this, Michael, for it is not a dream, nor is it reality. What it is, however, is a vision, as you may like to call it.
{Michael looked at him hard, then raised an eyebrow.}
Michael Thomas: What?! Look I have no idea what you're talking about, I just need some help. Do you think you could help me with this straight jacket? It's too tight, I can barley breath.
Cloaked Man: ENOUGH!!
{There was power in his voice, an intensity powered by his age. He wasn't a joke, Michael thought, he seemed to know what he was talking about and Michael felt compelled to obey him. Maybe that was why he had stopped talking on command. Michael waited, thinking the man would help him, but he simply turned his back.}
Cloaked Man: Listen to what I have to say, Michael Thomas. I have watched you progress through your life with much amusement and much disappointment. In the beginning however, I was pleased.
{He turned to glare as Michael went to protest.}
Cloaked Man: Don't say anything, just listen.
{Unable to disobey, Michael continued to stand there in silence and listen.}
Cloaked Man: I've watched you all this time, still a person of such great talent... and you let it go to waste! You have become a drone, and you stick to whatever works for you. You cannot be stuck in such ways, Michael. Change is a blessing, something that most people cannot see. Look over the next hill, look beyond yourself and your being. It's only proper you do so.
{He smirked.}
Cloaked Man: I've watched you grow as a wrestler, as a husband and a father but, more importantly, as a man, a person. You've done yourself proud and it would do me a great honor to see you continue to succeed as you have done, but to do so you must work at it, you have to try harder, and most of all... you have to think outside the box, my young friend.
{He walked to over to Michael who took a step backward, worried about what might happen next.}
Michael Thomas: Outside the box?
Cloaked Man: Think about it! Symbolic means to the symbolic end. If you trust in your feelings, you can never be wrong. Take your losses as well as your victories with dignity and grace and most of all, learn from your mistakes. Now it’s time for you to start over.
{“Start over?” he thought and just like that he was back in the centre of the padded room, on the ground and trapped in the straight jacket once more. No door with a window leading to eternal darkness, no robed man with hair as white as snow, just him and what the man had described as 'symbolic means to the symbolic end.' Was it a test? He was smart and he knew what the old man was talking about. Swallowing hard he closed his eyes for the count of ten and opened them again, hoping for an easy solution or even another man to tell him what he must do but there was nothing. He knew it was down to him to get out of here. First and foremost, he noticed the straight jacket. It was binding, powerful and suffocating. The man has said he was afraid of change, that Michael couldn't handle it in a way. He knew he was right.}
{It was a trap, he thought, a bond that couldn't be broken by sheer force alone. Could that be his problem, was he to quick to use force to solve his problems and not think them through first like he did in the old days? No, he thought about every action before he took it, thought of the consequences and of what he could get out of it. Was he trapping himself then? He quickly dismissed the idea, after all he showed resilience, a trait so often discarded for other ones. Could that, in itself, bind him to the battle against change? Again he dismissed the idea, just because he didn’t give in didn’t mean that he wasn’t willing to evolve. There was still another possibility though, that he could somehow be holding himself back from his true potential. In every situation he always saved the best for last, used his best material, his final burst of energy, when it mattered most. But could that really be holding him back? Perhaps this wasn’t about being held back after all; perhaps it was more about realising why he’d grown accustomed to the same patterns. He’d put everything he had in to perfecting his craft, becoming the very best he could be, so much so that maybe somewhere along the line he’d forgotten the reason for doing so, so caught up in the end result. He’d forgotten the thrill of the battle, the rush he got when he’d overcome the impossible and against all odds actually won. As he thought this the straightjacket seemed to loosen a little.}
{He remembered back when he’d first begun that it wasn’t about being the best, it was simply about the thrill of the battles, the thrill of chasing the gold, chasing the dream. He would run down to the ring for no other reason than to engage in battle with his peers, to prove himself the better man and prove that whatever he had said in the week preceding was indeed the truth. Now all he cared about was the end result, he’d forgotten that the path was just as enjoyable as the end. After a while he’d begun to hold back, presuming himself unbeatable and forgetting what it took to get him to that point. He’d grown accustomed to five star treatment, forgotten that even the best have to prove themselves every once in a while. That had made him weak, worst still it had meant that he had grown normal and that was unacceptable as far as he was concerned. The straight jacket loosened a little more and finally fell off. He took a moment to look at it, realising his mistakes now, before he cast it aside and set his mind on the next problem, the room.}
{It was all more symbolism but what did it mean? He knew that he would have to change, or at least realize the right path, but simply stating that he needed to change wouldn’t make a difference, he could say it until his gums began bleeding and still he’d be trapped here. So he got up and began to look around. There was no obvious exit, to escape here he would have to do it in the same way he escaped the straightjacket. If this wasn’t about physical limitations then what could it be? Mental limitations perhaps? The walls wavered a little but not enough. Ok, limitations of the heart? The room shifted for a moment and the walls changed shape but he was still trapped, however he was at least on the right path.}
Michael Thomas: What do you want from me? You want me to say I’m heartless? Thoughtless for those whom my actions effect?
{Nothing! He sat on the floor of the room thinking for a moment about his friends and his family. There were times when he wasn’t a good person to be around, he knew that but then everybody had those times, times when everything seemed to be against them. There were few people who he could trust in times like that though and maybe there was a reason for that, maybe he’d become what he’d always imagined everyone who wanted success had to be, an egotistical, loudmouthed and obnoxious fool. The room began to shift back to the way it was and he swore to himself, if that wasn’t it then what was? Maybe it wasn’t about not caring enough, maybe it was about how his actions affected those he did care about. The room began to change again so he went with that thought.}
Michael Thomas: Amber.
{She was just a kid now, too young to remember anything that was happening, but she wouldn’t always be. Of course he considered himself a good father, he would do anything for his daughter to assure her safety and that she always had the best in life, all the things that he never had. And what he never had hit him hard, a father! He would be there of course, he would provide for her future, but she needed more than that. She didn’t need somebody who was more obsessed with his work than his family, somebody who always took his work home with him. She needed somebody she could talk to, somebody who had time to take care of her problems, somebody that he never had. Wrestling would always be there but she wouldn’t, if he didn’t take more care of her soon then soon she’d be lost to him forever. Was that what this all meant, that he had to pay her more attention and show her the kind part of himself, the part that would tell her a story and give her a kiss when she was down, not the side who would rattle on about the good old days, about how he used to mean something. He didn’t want to become that kind of father.}
{Sometimes he would look down at her while she slept and think about what her future might bring and now he realized that he had a chance to provide a better life for her than he had had growing up. Life was hard, he knew that as well as most, but he had the chance now to provide a good life for his family and he knew he had to take it, if not for himself or for Noelle, then for her and for her children, he definitely didn’t want to be remembered as the grandfather who constantly grumbled and who didn’t trust a soul. He wanted her to grow up happy with her life, content with the decisions she was making and knowing that he would always be there to guide her should she ever come off the path.}
{It was then that he noticed the room had changed around him even as he sat there. Gone were the padded walls, they were replaced with a warm country cottage with a fire roaring and soft music playing in the background. He walked over to the comfortable armchair that seemed to call out to him and put his feet up, thinking about everything he’d just been through. He had to learn to focus on the present, enjoy the moment and not always obsess about the ultimate goal but more import than that he had to learn to take a break from the business, not dedicate his whole life to it and not let it occupy his thoughts twenty-four hours a day. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around. He was back in his bed with his wife lying peacefully beside him. Carefully he climbed out of bed and pushed the door open, walking down the hallway to the room that served as the nursery. He stood in the doorway and looked down at Amber sleeping peacefully and smiled again, being careful not to wake her.}
Michael Thomas: Thank you…
{He whispered so quietly even he could barely hear himself, but then he wasn’t really talking to her, more to himself. He returned to bed, slipping back underneath the duvet and shutting his eyes again when he heard his wife’s voice whispering to him.}
Noelle Thomas: You ok?
{He nodded, thinking afterward that she probably couldn’t see that and then responded.}
Michael Thomas: I’m fine. Just had a weird dream is all, I’ll tell you about it in the morning.
{And with that he closed his eyes again, hoping this time for a less bizarre dream as he drifted off to sleep once more.}
<<<<END SCENE>>>>
{When you were a child did you get excited when the doorbell rang and you knew the postman had something you’d been waiting for on the other side? It may have been a while since I was a kid, but today I got that same rush when I awoke to find that one of the guards had brought in my mail this morning and lying at the bottom of the pile was a large brown box. I knocked the rest of the mail to one side, ignoring it for a moment and focusing completely on this box, picking it up and taking it through to my office without saying a word. Noelle saw this and followed me curiously, sitting on the edge of the desk as I grabbed my penknife and cut it open, pulling out a series of smaller boxes and a large flat chessboard.}
Noelle Thomas: When did you start playing chess?
Michael Thomas: I’ve always played chess; I’ve got a proper board over there somewhere with two sets of pieces just in case Amber decided to play with some of them. This, however, is something different…
{I rubbed my hands together excitedly as I opened some of the boxes, pouring chess pieces on to the board and then picking them up and placing them in one of the drawers of my desk for safe keeping. Then I opened the remaining boxes and as each of the pieces fell on to the board Noelle began to laugh. There were eighteen in total, nine white and nine black, and each of them was custom made and resembled one of the men in NAPW. Not exactly your ordinary chess set which traditionally had only sixteen pieces, but as you should know by now, I play by my own rules. Noelle picked a couple of them up and grinned.}
Noelle Thomas: Ok, this is cute! Where the hell did you get it?
Michael Thomas: Old friend of mine used to make stuff like this for a living so I called in a favor and they do look pretty great, don’t they?
{Noelle looked at them one at a time, handing them to me when she was done so I could set them up on the board. When they were all lined up I grinned to myself, looking down each side. On the right hand side where the black pieces, each representing a different wrestler. First there was Axle Jaxx, then D!, J.C. Cook, Chris Casino, myself, Predator, Ravager, Minstrel, and finally Static. On the left hand side the pieces in white. First Rex Caliber, followed by Apocalypse, Don Travelli, Lobo, Technique, Thunder, The Crusher, Mark Miller, and finally, Evan Cartwright.}
Noelle Thomas: So, what you going to do with them all? You can hardly play chess, you’ve got no pawns.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} They’re all pawns in the bigger picture. Now let’s see, who can I get rid of right away?
Noelle Thomas: Get rid of?
{I flick the Axle Jaxx piece off the board and look back up at her.}
Michael Thomas: He’s a non-factor, we already know that.
{She picks up the Axle Jaxx piece and laughs at it as I flick off Mark Miller, Lobo, Ravager, Technique, Apocalypse, Static, The Crusher, Predator, Thunder, Technique, and Rex Caliber as well.}
Michael Thomas: Ok, now we’re down to just the guys with half a chance.
Noelle Thomas: {grins} You forgot Don Travelli.
Michael Thomas: Oh sh(BLEEP)t.
{I flick the Travelli piece off the board as well.}
Michael Thomas: Thanks for that, I forgot he was even there, but then again what reason has he ever given me to acknowledge him as anything more than an unpaid extra?
Noelle Thomas: {laughs} You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
Michael Thomas: {nods} Maybe just a little!
{I turn to the camera and grin, looking back over the board at the remaining for a moment and laughing.}
MANIAC: So Joker’s Wild is the big showdown, huh? Maniac versus Cartwright two. Round one goes to the Lord of the Ring. Round two? It goes to the King of Kings. See, last Monday night was nothing more than a formality, Evan. You can win all the meaningless battles you want, and it’ll all add up to absolutely nothing in the long run. The fact of the matter is this…all you proved to me on Monday night was that you know deep within yourself that you can’t beat me. You can’t keep me down, you can’t out wrestle me…all you can do is hope and pray that the ref turns his back long enough for your little bum chum manager to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.
[He grins.]
MANIAC: You made a cardinal mistake. I was planning on keeping things clean, since Lord knows I don’t need to cheat to beat an insignificant punk like yourself. But if you wanna play dirty? I can play that way, too, little man. All bets are now off. I was going to save the whole “most unpredictable son of a bitch in the game” side of me bottled up and saved for a rainy day, but you just had to pop the cork, didn’t you? It’s a mistake you’ll live to regret, kid…because I’ve played mind games with the best of ‘em. Jimmy Blast, Jeff Jericho, Paul Blair…men who could wipe their ass and produce a used piece of toilet paper with more talent than you. I’ve outsmarted them all. And rest assured I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve…tricks that you don’t want to see, kid.
[He looks over at his wife, who is grinning ear to ear as she recalls some of Maniac’s more infamous schemes.]
MANIAC: You talk about how I gave you an inch and you decided the outcome of the match. Correction, little man…my imbecile partner became too caught up in his own stupid little agenda that he forgot there was a match going on. You didn’t change the outcome of the match, your idiot manager did. But see, it doesn’t even matter. If it helps you sleep better at night if you’ve managed to convince yourself that you can actually go toe to toe with me and win, then more power to ya. But it doesn’t change the cold hard facts. One on one, I beat your ass all over the arena two weeks ago. I beat your ass in the ring, I had you on the verge of tapping out, I beat your manager’s ass, and then I took you out to the parking lot and beat your ass some more. In a nutshell, I dominated you. Newsflash…this Monday night we’re going one on one. This isn’t a tag team match. Your partner can’t hold your hand, your manager would be wise to stay in the back, and let’s face it…I’ve proven it once and I’ll prove it again, one on one you can’t lace my boots.
But onto this one other thing I’ve got on my mind…
[He knocks J.C. Cook’s piece off the board.]
MANIAC: Cook…what the hell kind of a man are you? One week you’re talking smack…then you find out we’re gonna be in the ring together so you kiss my ass and take back everything you said the previous week….now you’re back to talking smack because you were nowhere to be found while Terry Brandon was getting involved in the match? Please. You’re grasping at straws now.
If I were you, I’d shut my damn mouth. You know I can destroy you with the snap of my fingers…that’s why you kissed my ass all last week. And if there was any doubt, I proved it on Monday night when you dropped like a fly to the Headhunter. Shut your pie hole and maybe I’ll let you slide this one final time. You flap your gums about me once more and I’ll be forced to unleash hell and make sure you never do it again.
{I go to knock down the white king, the Evan Cartwright piece, but stop myself, pulling my hand back and grinning to myself. Noelle looks at me confused, going to knock it down herself but I stop her hand.}
Michael Thomas: Leave it.
Noelle Thomas: Why?
Michael Thomas: It’ll be far more satisfying to knock it over Monday night when I’ve come through on my word yet again.
{She smiles and I help her off the desk, looking at the collection of fallen pieces surround the board and laughing. Joker’s Wild would be something I’d never forget because it'd be the night I made history once again.}
MANIAC: As for the rest of you…the Chris Casinos, D!s, and Minstrel’s of the world…rest assured your time will come. Before long it’ll be check and mate for every last one of you.
But Monday night, at the Baccarat Casino...Evan Cartwright, you’re gonna find out first hand exactly what I mean when I tell you I am the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, and the most unpredictable son of a god damn bitch this business has ever seen.
And you won’t EVER forget it.
{I grin and leave the room to find Noelle, leaving the chess pieces scattered across the table and on the floor.}
{Scene fades to black.}