(Butch): Good to see you again, old friend. I was wondering how long it was going to be before we met again.
He lays the belt across his lap and stoops down, loosening the strap on the pad protecting his left knee, allowing him to fully stretch his leg out. Upon doing so, a blood-curdling crunch echoes out from Butch’s knee but instead of being in pain, he releases a satisfied sigh. He unfastens the straps of his fighting gloves, gently prying them off through gritted teeth revealing blood-stained white hand wraps underneath. Butch exhales deeply through his nose whilst biting down on his bottom lip whilst he unravels the tape on his hands, discarding it whilst also revealing four-inch long gashes on each palm, inflicted by the barbed wire used both by he and Senester earlier. Butch leans down tentatively lifting up his duffel bag and pulls out a mini first aid kit, the bold mint green-coloured cross emblazoned across the front giving it away. Unzipping the small, white leather bag, Butch rummages for a moment before delicately removing a canister of Savlon antibacterial spray, He uncorks the plastic lid and directs the nozzle of the can directly over his wounds and sprays the vaporised liquid all over them. Butch involuntarily grunts in pain, closing his eyes shut tight, exhaling once again deeply through his nose as the alcohol in the spray does its work sterilising the wounds and ensuring there is no infection. Butch finishes up his mini medical procedure by awkwardly using a suturing kit to sew his cuts closed. Fifteen agonising minutes later and Butch is finished. He admires his handiwork and it’s by no means a masterpiece but it’s enough for now until he can see a proper first aider when he gets back to California.
He tests his hands’ flexibility by opening and closing his fists slowly and after a couple of attempts, Butch is satisfied the stitches will last, at least for now. He stands up slowly to a vertical stance, the throbbing in his knee still having not fully subsided. He holds up the HWA World Championship by one of its straps, giving it one last look before gently and neatly placing it into his duffel bag. After this, Butch remains silent for a long moment. Despite the feeling of euphoria engulfing , he can’t help but feel, by defeating Senester and usurping his reign as HWA World Champion, like he just opened a whole new can of worms and set in motion a set of unprecedented events; Senester’s ominous words of warning spoken both during and in the immediate aftermath of their match still ringing in his head like a stuck record. However, for the moment, Butch banishes the thoughts from his mind and just relives the moment he was announced as new World Champion, he thinks about Wisdom and he thinks about his daughter. For now at least life was good. The scene fades to blacks temporarily as Butch goes for a shower.
SOMETIME LATER….
The scene fades back in and a few hours have passed. Butch is much more refreshed after his shower and is adorned in an outfit consisting of cobalt-blue New Look jeans and his custom-made Venum fight wear “One Man Tartan Army” t-shirt. He makes his way out of the arena and towards the parking lot when he is lambasted a reporter, firing questions at Butch at a million miles an hour.
(Butch): Christ, you guys are like ninjas! What do you do, hide in the rafters!? Look mate, normally I’d be more than happy to answer your questions, but as you’ll appreciate, I’m absolutely exhausted and I just want to go to bed.
The young reporter who looks more like an intern fresh out of college than a fully-fledged reporter, looks a little disappointed but isn’t immediately discouraged as to give just yet.
(Reporter): Look, just five minutes of your time is all I’m asking Mr Parker, I really need something good for my sports column or I’m gonna lose my job. If I get five minutes from you, I’ll be worshipped.
Butch sighs loudly, a contemplative expression of his face as the young reporter is on tenterhooks. Eventually after what seems like an eternity, Butch rolls his eyes and gives in.
(Butch): You’ve got five minutes kid, make ‘em count.
The young man’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning and he quickly makes sure the nib of his pen is working correctly by doing a few practice scribbles on his notepad before he begins his questioning.
(Reporter): Well, first off, how does it feel, after not holding the championship since you lost it to AC James in 2009, to be a three-time HWA World Champion?
Butch puffs his cheeks out and raises his eyebrows for a moment before he answers immediately.
(Butch): Pretty damn awesome if I’m being honest. I’ve been in this business for almost twenty years and I’ve been in my fair share of wars with some of the baddest and meanest competitors this business has had to offer but tonight’s battle with Senester was one of the most physically intense and brutally exhausting matches I’ve ever been involved in in my career. And when you’re involved in something like that, when you pour every fibre of your being, putting everything on the line and you come up trumps, it’s indescribable. I’m now lucky enough to be named among a select few individuals who can say they’ve held HWA World Championship on three separate occasions and it’s an honour to be amongst them.
(Reporter): How did the whole situation come about then. I mean the whole arena was on lockdown earlier like there was some kind of terrorist attack when in actuality, you and Deas were making your deal. What happened exactly? Especially after Senester made it abundantly clear after your last title match with him that you wouldn’t receive another opportunity at the World Title.
(Butch): There are some things I can’t tell you for legal reasons but all I will say is that Deas approached Ms Shevington and flat-out told her there was no way he was physically able to compete with Senester tonight and could something be done to remedy the situation. A contract was drawn up, Shevington called me into her office and explained the situation and a deal was made. Nothing underhanded whatsoever; the contract that bears both mine and Deas’ signature is a hundred and fifty percent legal and a hundred and fifty percent legit. As far as what Senester said before is concerned, his word has no legal obligation. He may sound almighty and his will be done whenever he speaks but there is nothing and I can assure you nothing in my contract that states I’m not allowed to compete for any championship nor was it part of the contract Senester and I signed before our title match before.
(Reporter): So will you be giving Deas a title shot then once he is able to compete again?
(Butch): I’m afraid that’s not my decision to make, that’s up to Ms Shevington, she books the matches, I just compete in them. I will however go on record and say I’ll happily defend this championship against anyone and everyone. I just defeated possibly the most dangerous competitor in the history of our sport and I challenge anyone to step up to the plate and do better.
(Reporter): Moving on, you finally managed to get your hands on Michael James after Havoc went off the air tonight; do you feel like you got some measure of retribution and do you anticipate any sort of backlash after this, verbal or physical.
(Butch): In all honesty, yes I did. What I did to Michael James tonight was just a mere taster of what he has coming to him if he continues to get in my face and shove his stupid cigar in my business. I’ve tried my best to ignore his idiotic, hypocritical comments and his condescending demeanour but it’s come to a point now where I’ve taken just about all I can take. I put my body through absolute hell tonight, probably put on a match of the year-type of performance and I was in no mood for his bullshit and I lost my temper. I warned him before about pushing my buttons and provoking me but he didn’t heed the warnings. Now, if he really wants a piece of me, if he really believes he’s a better wrestler than me which he proclaims, it’s time to put up or shut up. He has this belief that he’s the baddest motherf***er in HWA; I’m sorry but I’ve got my own twenty-five pounds of leather and gold that say a lot different, that say I’m the one sitting atop the ladder. The fact remains that until Michael James pins my shoulders to the mat for three seconds or makes me tap out, that is not going to change and he will remain nothing more than a second-tier champion, beating mid-card guys to give himself a better-looking undefeated record. He still walks about flashing his All Star Championship with an undeserved sense of accomplishment and entitlement. But has he main-evented a pay-per-view yet? No, come to think of it, has he even headlined an episode of Havoc yet? And he calls himself a champion? Michael James has spent too much time enjoying the smell of his own farts that he can no longer differentiate between that and the bullshit that spews out whenever he speaks.
The young reporter furiously scribbles as much as he can as Butch starts to get a little impatient which he picks up on.
(Reporter): I just have one more question.
(Butch): Last one.
(Reporter): There seemed to almost be a veiled threat from Senester throughout your match. He warned you not to go through with the match in the first place and even almost pleaded with you not to force his hand and mentioning your wife Wisdom and your daughter. Are you going to be watching your back more closely now knowing your track record with Senester added to the fact you’re now World Champion again?
(Butch): There’s always a veiled threat or hidden meaning to almost everything Senester says and does; it’s part and parcel of who he is. Of course I’ll be extra-cautious, when you’ve had the storied past that Senester and I have had coupled with being a World Champion, I know what it’s like to have to grow eyes on the back of your head. My family have nothing to do with this and if Senester wants to try anything with Wisdom, he’s more a man than I am because I sure as hell wouldn’t try it. Now if you’ll excuse me, that’s your five minutes, and I’m f***ed so I hope this keeps you your job but I have to go now.
(Reporter): Of course, thank you so much, Mr Parker, it was a pleasure speaking to you….if I could just ask for one more thing?
Butch gives the young man a very tired look.
(Butch): What?
The reporter flips over the written pages in his notepad until he finds a blank one and turns it around to face Butch and holds the pen out to him.
(Reporter): Could I trouble you for an autograph? Hate to be fanboy but you, Buff and Dredge were always my favorites back in the day?
(Butch): Back in the day huh? And not now?
The young reporter panics slightly, realising what he just said and stutters nervously which causes Butch to smile. He takes the notepad and pen from him and begins to sign it.
(Butch): I’m just teasing you, kid. What’s your name?
(Reporter): Adam, Adam Booth.
Butch speaks out what he’s writing as he does so.
(Butch): To Adam….best wishes….Butch…..Parker. There you go.
He hands the notepad and pen back to the reporter.
(Butch): Now, Adam Booth unless you have any more unusual requests, I really have to be going. Have a pleasant evening.
Butch gives the kid an acknowledging nod before about-turning and making his way toward his rental. He tosses his duffel bag onto the passenger seat and is just climbing into the driver’s seat when his cell phone rings. He looks at the caller ID and sees the name “Wisdom” flashing. A broad smile crosses his face as the scene fades to black.
Message Thread
« Back to index