* We open with an open view of what appears to be a large convention center. On the marquee of the building there is a text that reads “HWA Wrestling – TONIGHT!” signifying the active status of an HWA house show. The cameras cut to the parking garage of the backstage area. A few seconds later a pitch black stretch limousine moves into the frame and comes to a stop. The driver door opens and the audience gives the driver a cheap pop when the cameras reveal his identity as Little Spike Dudley. He walks to the back of the limo and opens the door. A cloud of smoke appears from inside of the vehicle. A few seconds later, the HWA All Star Champion steps out of the limo with a cigar gripped between his teeth. Michael James carefully drapes the All Star Championship over his shoulder and takes a few steps away from the limo. Spike taps James on the shoulder and puts his hand out *
Spike: I believe we discussed a tip of some kind.
* Michael James exhales a cloud of smoke into Spike’s face *
Michael James: You want a tip?
Spike: That was the agreement.
* Michael James looks away from Spike as if something were distracting his attention. When Spike turns away from Michael James, he grabs a hold of Spike’s wrist *
Spike: Wait a second, damnit. I’m not that kind of driver!
* He clenches his grip around Spike’s arm and violently snuffs out the cigar in the center of his hand. Spike screams in pain from the agony of the heat burning through his flesh. Michael James grabs a handful of his hair and slams his fist into the side of Spike’s face. The former ECW icon crashes to the concrete while Michael James begins insulting him in Japanese. The All Star Champion pulls a dollar bill from his pocket and stuffs it inside of Spike’s mouth. James pulls Spike to his knees and winds up his arm. James spits in his face and levels the Giant Killer with an open palm strike across the temple. As Spike lies motionless on the ground, Michael James begins to laugh out loud as he begins walking in the opposite direction. A few seconds later the cameras cut to the backstage area. The frame moves past a sign that reads “Dressing Rooms” as viewers gain sight of the Michael James moving through the hallway. He passes by a few of the arena’s staff and stops calls out to one of them *
Michael James: Hey.
Man: How’s it going?
Michael James: You don’t want to know. Have you seen Butch Parker?
Man: A few hours ago. Why?
Michael James: Don’t worry about it. If you see that douche again you tell him that James is looking for him. Got it?
Man: You got it.
* James moves past the man and continues down the hallway. He gains sight of the official training coach and signals for him to stop *
Coach: Is there something I can do for you, champ?
Michael James: Yea. You can start by telling me where Butch Parker is hiding.
Coach: He isn’t hiding anywhere, James.
Michael James: What are you talking about?
Coach: Listen, I’m not the kind of going that likes to go around spreading rumors so if anyone asks you didn’t hear it from me, okay?
Michael James: Okay.
Coach: I don’t know if it’s true but a few people are saying Butch asked for the night off when he heard you were booked on the schedule.
Michael James: That doesn’t surprise me in the least. He was scared to face me at the press conference and he’s now he’s scared to face me at work.
Coach: That’s what everyone has been saying but I’m not trying to take sides. The last time I saw Butch he was getting inside of a cab that was parked outside of the arena.
Michael James: Did he have his bag with him?
Coach: His gym bag? I didn’t see one.
Michael James: That’s not the bag I’m talking about. Did you see Wisdom at all?
Coach: Oh. No, I didn’t.
Michael James: Thanks, coach.
* James pats the coach on his shoulder and inches and moves forward. He winds around the corner and stops in front of a door with Butch Parker’s name printed on the front. He twists the knob and grows an expression of confusion on his face when he is unable to open the door. He tightens his grip on the knob in an effort to rip it away from the door. A few seconds later the knob gives and Michael James forces his way inside of the room. James grows a cynical expression on his face as he looks around the room *
Michael James: Typical.
* The camera cuts to the point-of-view of James and shows the room to be left in a complete mess. There are a stack of Butch Parker posters lying on a concession table that were given to the World Champion for the purpose of a scheduled meet and greet with the fans after the conclusion of the show. James approaches a locker that was left open by Butch in his effort to leave in a hurry. He reaches inside of the locker and removes a wadded up shirt containing a few personal items. He removes a Polaroid photograph from the shirt and grows a look of disgust on his face. The cameras move around to show an image of Wisdom, happily posing with Butch and their daughter. There is a handwritten text at the bottom of the photograph that says “Wish you were here”. James builds up a lump of phlegm in his throat and releases it into the shirt. He tosses the shirt aside and takes a seat on a bench placed against the wall while holding the photograph in his hand *
Michael James: Well, Butch, it looks like you managed to dodge the bullet once again. I’m sure you will just pull some lame excuse out of your ass for not being here and that’s fine with me. The truth is, that’s exactly the kind of behavior I expect from you. Obviously, you aren’t the kind of person that is willing to back up his bullshit so instead of facing your troubles you tuck tail and run like a little b###h. And you know something, Butch? I can’t say that I blame you. I understand that you are a much weaker man than me and you can’t do half the things that I can accomplish with limited effort. Sure, you can lie to people and run your mouth like you always have in the past. But sooner or later you’re going to have to realize that no one is listening. No one cares about you and they don’t care what you think about the All Star Champion. I said it before, asshole. You’re a counterfeit champion and it doesn’t take a genius to see through your obvious bullshit. You talk and talk and talk but at the end of the day it amounts to nothing. You’re a voice box, Butch. That’s how you scammed your way into a match against Senester for the World Championship. You manipulated Bryan Deas and stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Unfortunately for you, I’m nothing like Deas. You aren’t going to manipulate anything from me and if you try I will not hesitate to snap your ####ing neck. Every time we have gone to war I have ended up with my hand raised in victory. What do you have to show for your pathetic efforts? Nothing. That’s what.
* Michael James reaches inside of his jacket and removes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He places a cigarette between his lips and lights the tip with a match. He exhales the smoke from his lungs *
Michael James: I don’t care if you’re the World Champion, Butch. Everyone knows that isn’t going to last so you might as well give up the charade. Otherwise, you would have beaten me at Road to Ruin and we wouldn’t be stuck in the middle of an never ending debate. All you have to do is admit the truth and things will be much easier for you. Everyone knows you can’t win. You know from experience that you can’t beat Michael James. Just go ahead and admit it. Confess all of the inadequate things that you think you’re hiding from the rest of us. Believe it or not, you’re not as slick as you think you are. People know you’re lying when you say that I’m nothing to fear. They know you’re lying when you claim your half assed accusations of premeditated victory. Most of all, they know you’re lying when you promise to be the better man. You know why? You aren’t the better man. If you were you would have beaten me by now and you would be a double champion. But that isn’t going to happen because it isn’t your destiny to be a dual champion. You’re living your destiny as we speak and as far as I can tell it’s a ####ing joke. You have no active accomplishments, no recent victories and no friends to help you in your time of need. Even Freddie Styles wants nothing to do with you and he’s the one that is supposed to be watching your ass. How pathetic is that, Butch? Personally, I think Mr. Styles is finally on the right track. It might have taken him a while but at least he found a way to remove his head from the confines of his own asshole. Who knows? Maybe he could teach you to do the same thing.
* He inhales another drag from the cigarette and ashes it on the floor of the dressing room. James leans back and adjusts the All Star Championship that is gracefully draped over his shoulder *
Michael James: The last time I faced Freddie Styles, Wisdom Parker found a way to screw him out of his last opportunity to become the All Star Champion. It wasn’t the outcome I had originally predicted but if it means keeping the All Star Championship around my waist, so be it. Usually, I consider this to be an opportunity to rub the loss in Freddie’s face and mock everything he has stated in his own defense. But I’m not going to do that because this time I actually agree with what Styles has to say. If it hadn’t been for Wisdom’s interference, it would have been a fair fight. If it hadn’t been for Wisdom’s interference, Freddie Styles might have had a chance to do the impossible. But it wasn’t a fair fight because that’s how Wisdom and Butch Parker do business. When they have nothing left in tank they refer to desperate tactics. So in Wisdom’s obvious time of desperation she made a complete ass out of herself while costing Freddie Styles a championship in the process. I know it probably wasn’t the result she was expecting to see but that’s what happens when you #### with perfection personified. You lose. Wisdom wanted revenge and received a night in jail for her mindless efforts. It’s like I told Butch a long time ago. I’m always going to be the winner. He’s always going to be the loser and Wisdom can go #### herself as far as I’m concerned. When you idiots ####ed over Styles, you made a mistake that you’re going to live to regret. He might be a douche bag he isn’t a slouch by any means. On Havoc, you’re going to need his help if you want to make it out alive. And something tells me that isn’t going to be an option.
* James holds up the polaroid and grows a sarcastic smile on his face. He shudders upon sight of Wisdom’s teeth and uses the cigarette to burn her face out of the photograph *
Michael James: There we go. Much better.
* James tosses the photograph aside and leans back against the wall *
Michael James: Freddie Styles offered his help to the Parker family and you assholes spit in his face. Coming from my point of view that doesn’t sound like something you want to do to someone you’re expecting to watch your back on Havoc. Judging from what he had to say in his last promo I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to take the night off. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t respect you and he doesn’t want to be the one to wipe your ass when you can’t get the job done. Freddie Styles wants to be a champion. And unlike you Butch, he has spent the last year earning his way to the top instead of just talking about it. He couldn’t beat me because he isn’t a miracle worker. So you know what that means? It’s only going to be a matter of time until Styles directs his entire focus on the HWA World Championship. That means you’re going to be placed on the firing line with two of the company’s heavy hitters gunning for your early retirement. What will you do then? Are you going to beg Wisdom to protect you from the both of us? That’s not going to happen and you know it, asshole. She can’t handle the best the company has to offer and neither can you. Face it, prick. You’re going to lose the World Championship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. That’s why I said you should hand it over to me so you can avoid the humiliation of another loss. But you’re the kind of imbecile that enjoys the concept of public shame. Aren’t you, Butch? Otherwise, you would have done us all a favor and put a buckshot in your brain a long time ago.
* He inhales another drag from the cigarette and directs his attention towards the concession table. He moves from the couch to the table and holds up one of the posters. James grows a disgusted sneer on his face as glares at the image of Butch Parker wearing the HWA World Championship. He drops the poster on top of the table and ashes his cigarette on the floor *
Michael James: To be honest with everyone I’m past the point of being sick of Butch Parker. I’m sick of seeing his face, hearing his words and watching him pretend to be the face of the company. I don’t know about the rest of you but I think the HWA deserves something better than Butch Parker. If he was the face of the company he would have stuck around at Blood, Sweat and Tears to win the World Championship. But like always, he went running to Wisdom when he knew he couldn’t win. I’m the face of the company because I represent the future of this business. When people talk about Michael James they speak of advancement. They speak of constant production and positive moral values. Sure, people may not agree with my methods but no one can argue with the results. If kicking a cock eyed hooker in the face is wrong, well, who gives a shit? I won the match and now I’m recognized as a better man than Butch will ever be. When people talk about Butch Parker they speak about the past. They speak about the person he once was and the same person he will never be. I never want to be viewed as a fraudulent version of my former self. I’m always at the top of my game and that’s why people say I’m better than Butch Parker. He can argue otherwise but until he has a victory over me his words hold no credibility. He might as well be OJ Simpson. That’s what Butch Parker has become. He’s the laughing stock of the HWA and he’s the only one refuses to accept it. Butch is a legend in his own mind. Unfortunately, his mind just happens to be equivalent with the IQ of a crack head with down syndrome. In other words, it doesn’t take a lot of effort to outsmart the carbon copy World Champion.
* James removes a matchbox from his pocket and begins juggling the box with the cigarette gripped between his lips *
Michael James: Think about something for a minute. What kind of World Champion would toss his wife under the bus for a shot at petty revenge? In any other situation it would be recognized as an act of treachery. When it comes to the case of Parker he could really care less abut the ramifications of his own mistakes. He wants people to see him as the head of the pack but refuses to accept the responsibility of a natural born leader. You know why? Butch isn’t a leader. He’s a douche bag. The truth is that idiot couldn’t lead a pack of bulimics to a puke convention. He tried to lead Freddie Styles into a war against the Personification of Perfection and now they’re inches away from killing each other. That’s what happens when Butch tries to use his brain to solve his problems. He doesn’t think ahead and then he tries to make excuses when things don’t go according to plan.
* He catches the box in his hand and exhales some smoke from his mouth. The opens the box and removes a single match *
Michael James: Tell me something, Butch. If I’m so “full of shit” how was I able to defeat the “great and mighty” Butch Parker at a high profile pay-per-view event? If I’m full of shit, how do you explain my flawless streak as the only undefeated wrestler of the year? Even you, the “World Champion”, suffered your fair share of losses to men that are supposed to be “out of your league”. I mean, Steve Angel beat you. Steve ####ING Angel. How does that even happen, Butch? You know how many people have beaten me since I signed with the company? None. Not even you. So that means what, asshole? That’s right. You’re the one that’s full of shit. Not me. I’m the one that’s been telling the truth from the very beginning and I have a list of victories to prove it. I say I’m a man of my word because no one can prove me wrong. You’ve been trying for months and you still have nothing on me. Steve Angel thought he could hang with me and now he’s ancient ####ing history. The sad part is you aren’t any better than Fallen was. You’re running your mouth spitting out lies and bullshit in an effort to be noticed. I don’t have to do that because people know who I am all over the world. Is it my fault that people could care less about the “One Man Tartan Army”? No, it’s not. If you want serious exposure you’re going to have to do something to earn it, asshole. And no, blowing smoke out of your ass doesn’t count. You have actually accomplish something like I did when I beat Freddie Styles to retain the All Star Championship. What about you, Parker? What have you done lately? My guess is that you’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.
* James strikes the match against the side of the box and ignites the tip. He tosses the match on top of the posters and turns his back to the camera. The flame from the match causes the posters to quickly transform into rising flames on top of the concession table. The fire quickly spreads to a few t-shirts causing the fire to double in size. James makes his exit from the room and a static feed cuts out the footage *
10/21/2013
Private Country Club
Tulsa, Oklahoma
* The static cuts out and the cameras to an exterior shot of a large golf course in Tulsa, Oklahoma. A cross fade moves the scene to the middle of the course where a few men are seen on the green. When we move towards the group, the man currently setting up his shot is revealed as “Good ‘Ol” Jim Ross *
Golfer: C’mon Jim we ain’t got all day. You gonna play or you gonna sit there and shit your pants?
Jim Ross: Just keep your panties on, Emmet. You ain’t gonna rush me this time.
Emmet: It ain’t rushing when you take fifteen god dang minutes on each hole. My grandmother can putt quicker than you and she’s been dead since the seventies.
Jim Ross: Then why don’t you go dig the old ##### up and golf with her?
* A second golf cart moves into frame driven by a large man in a black leather jacket. The cart comes to a stop directly behind the one being used by Jim and Emmet. The driver moves away from the cart and pulls a nine iron from the bag on Jim’s cart. Ross takes his shot and seems satisfied with the outcome. He looks towards Emmet with a smile on his face *
Jim Ross: I told you once before you sum-b###h. I’m the best there ever was.
* He says in a joking manner as a way to taunt his friend. Off camera, we hear the man scream towards the two men in Japanese *
Jim Ross: What the hell…
* When Jim turns away from Emmet he gets bashed upside the head with a nine iron. When Ross drops to the ground his attacker is revealed as Michael James. He moves back a few inches and smashes the nine iron across Jim’s rib cage. When Emmet makes an effort to approach James, the All Star Champion swings the nine iron in his direction. Jim’s friend turns away from James and runs to the cart. He picks up his cell phone and begins dialing the Tulsa police. Meanwhile, Michael James drops to the ground and begins pummeling Ross with multiple shots to the head. He drags Ross to his feet, moves back a few inches and then he levels Jim with an Osaka Spike Kick to the face. With Jim laying motionless on the green, Michael James moves back to his cart and drives out of frame. A static feed interrupts the footage and frame cuts to white noise *
10/22/2013
Black Eye Entertainment Production Studio
Chicago, Illinois
* The image clears and the cameras cut to the personal office of Michael James. We pan towards the sound of Butch Parker’s voice that appears to be playing on a large plasma screen television mounted on the wall. We pan away from the television and reveal James sitting behind his desk, watching Parker’s most recent promo with an expression of annoyance on his face. The HWA All Star Championship is laid across the desk so viewers can clearly see the custom designed breast plate *
Michael James: Same damn shit, every single time. This is exactly what I was talking about the last time I spoke about Butch Parker. I asked him to give me something new and what do I get? The same old useless material he has been using since day one. Except this time he decided to put some extra stink on his shit by claiming to have welcomed me to the company with “mutual respect”. I don’t know what the hell Butch is smoking but in most cases of mutual respect, people try their best to avoid acting like complete assholes. You didn’t do that, Butch. Instead of offering your hand to me in respect like Senester and Shakir, you thought it would be funny to verbally underestimate my presence in the company. Sure, you can lie to people and give your own version of the story but everyone knows what happened next. I replied, smoked your ass and you responded with a bunch of racist bullshit. If you don’t believe me just go to TMZ.com and you can read all about it. But, you aren’t going to do that, are you? You know why? It’s embarrassing to see how far your pathetic family has fallen since you decided to piss me off. If you didn’t want the world to know about your obvious bigotry then you should have kept your ####ing mouth shut. And I don’t give a shit how many names you drop in an effort to compensate your own shame, asshole. They aren’t here so they hold no importance to the subject at hand. You ####ed up, Butch. It’s not that hard to understand. You have been making fatal mistakes your entire life so you should be used to it by now.
* He leans back in his chair and grows a cynical smile on his face. He removes his sunglasses and he drops them on top of the desk *
Michael James: You don’t know the first thing about loyalty or respect. If you did you wouldn’t lie to people about things you know you will never do. If you were loyal to your fans you would have put your own business aside at Blood, Sweat and Tears and won the World Championship. If you knew anything about respect you would have kept Wisdom at home when Freddie Styles was booked to face me for the All Star Championship. But you thought it would be funny to send your dog to the ring as a way to keep me distracted. Nice job, dumb ass. Maybe next time you can just shoot Styles in the head and make it easier for everyone. It makes no difference to me, Butch. Anytime you try to get under my skin, your plans go south and you end up looking like a complete moron. These kinds of things are funny for me. I love watching you fail because you never cease to disappoint. If people ever need a reason to laugh all they have to do is look at you and what your career has become. If that isn’t enough they could always give me a call and I will be more than happy to share your everlasting moments of failure with anyone that is willing to listen. I’ll tell them about the great times we had at Road to Ruin, and exactly what it felt like to kick an evil prostitute in the mouth. Maybe I can tell them about the time Freddie Styles left you stranded in the middle of a handicap match against Michael James and Sheik Shakir. The possibilities are endless thanks to you, Parker.
* He picks up a remote and begins to play the footage from Butch’s promo *
Michael James: Let’s see what else we can find.
* He begins skipping through a few channels until coming across a replay of the match he had against Butch Parker at Road to Ruin *
Michael James: Much better. This is what I call quality entertainment.
* He leans back in the chair once again and gets comfortable. He reaches down to the floor and picks something up. James brings an ice cold beer to his mouth and takes a sip from the bottle *
Michael James: According to the most recent words brought to us by Senester, it appears that I’m not the only one that is taking notice of Parker’s insignificant ego. But it’s like they say, “great minds think alike”. And that’s exactly what it comes down to with Senester and Michael James. Because unlike Butch Parker and Freddie Styles, I have no problems seeing eye to eye with someone that knows his way around the business. I have no problems learning from Senester the same way he can learn from my methods and ultraviolent education. When Senester was holding the World Championship I had no intentions of taking it away from him. You want to know why? He was an awesome champion. He defended that title with honor and had no problems getting the best of Butch Parker. Usually, Senester is the type of man I like to call a watcher. He will view things from afar and form his own opinions without the influence of anything artificial. Since Butch and Wisdom decided to purposely screw over Freddie Styles for the All Star Championship, Senester has voiced his opinion of the situation. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one that the Parkers were expecting to hear so it looks like shit has officially hit the fan.
* James laughs out loud as he continues to watch the match from Road to Ruin. He uses the remote to watch a segment of the footage in slow motion. It appears to be a close up of his boot making contact with the side of Wisdom Parker’s face *
Michael James: I have never had any problems with Senester. He has always been a stand up guy to me so I have always given him the same treatment in return. Butch is nothing like that. Since the moment I have arrived it was “chink eyes” this and “Godzilla” that so it isn’t hard to understand why I enjoy making his life a living hell. And despite what they want to believe I don’t have a personal vendetta against the Parker family. I said I was going to prove to be better than them and that’s exactly what I have been doing from the very beginning. Is it my fault that Butch and Wisdom Parker are a couple of weak minded assholes incapable of rational thought? No, it’s not. I could care less about their personal problems. I could care less about their opinions because they have zero credibility. Right now, Freddie Styles is the only one that has any right to speak about actual accomplishments. He gave me one hell of a fight and tried his best to take the gold from around my waist. Granted, I would be an idiot if I didn’t recognize his attempt to cheat me out of the championship. But at the same time I can understand his logic. It may not have been the best choice to make in his situation but it beats the hell out of hiding behind Wisdom’s skirt. Hopefully, Freddie will be able to see outside the box and realize what he has to do. He needs to forget about the All Star Championship and focus on Butch Parker. I may have beaten him twice but I sure as hell wasn’t the one that caused him to drop the ball.
* James pauses the footage and picks up the All Star Championship. He holds it up so the viewers can clearly view the breast plate while he holds it against his chest. He takes another sip of his beer and allows it to move down his throat *
Michael James: In the HWA, I am recognized by a variety of different monikers. Some people call me the biggest asshole in the company while others call me the baddest Jap on the map. No matter what they want to call me it all comes down to one concept. I’m the best. People know I’m the best and that’s why they praise my name all over the world. Butch has about as much range as Robin Thicke. Sure, he dressed up like Beetlejuice and let a miscreant ##### jump on his junk. But before he did that he was nothing more than the son of a useless celebrity. Butch is pissed off at me because people don’t know anything about his useless career. You know what I say to that? Tough shit. If he wants to be the Robin Thicke of the wrestling world it’s none of my concern. When he isn’t lying about the things he did in the past, he’s lying about things he wants to do in the future. In order to do that he would need a future and as far as I can tell his time was done a LONG time ago. Why else would he claim ownership of a kid that belongs to another man? He’s looking for a way out. He wants to quit because he has nothing left in the tank. Luckily for Butch, I will have no problems turning those dreams into an immediate reality.
* James leans back in his chair with the HWA All Star Championship draped over his shoulder. He takes a huge swig of his beer and the image is interrupted by a static feed *
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