Butch is alone in the confines of Dark Horse Towers. He stands on the balcony adjoined on to his room, leaning on the black-painted metal guardrail, staring out onto the awe-inspiring dusk Los Angeles skyline. He inhales a deep breath through his nose and gushes it outwards from his mouth, a long deep sigh. Butch has just finished watching Wisdom's video message and her words keep going on and on, over and over again in his head. That fateful conversation that had transpired after he had found out about the abortion all those years ago still brings a burning pain to his chest at the very thought. He shuts his eyes so tight; tears start to accumulate at the ducts. His hands grip the guardrail so tight that his knuckles turn white. His expression is an amalgamation of anger, regret, remorse and sorrow; a numerous colour of emotions painting a very unique picture.


(Butch): I know the rage that drives you Wisdom. You think I betrayed you. You believe I've betrayed you. I asked you, when this downward spiral first began to its decadent descent, to trust me. I told you, I know what I'm doing. I never asked for Minerva to cling to arm and wait on me hand and foot. Truth be told, I never wanted any of that. That shiny diamond band on her finger, I did not want that. Her flaunting our arrangement like a pathetic school girl, I did not want that. But when you swear to someone that you'll do anything in your power to make things right, that's exactly what you, and that's exactly what I have done Wisdom. And all I asked in return was for you to trust me.


And now you inevitably dredge up old memories buried in the vaults of yesteryear where they belong. Yes, you stood by my side with Michael Dredge after all that he put the two of us through and by Christ I told you how much that meant to me!


Butch feels his blood boiling, and breathes deeply through his nose, trying to keep himself calm.

(Butch): Yes, you did so many things for me Wisdom, but lest you forget what I put up with you at my side. All the comments “How can you be with such a bytch?”, “You deserve so much better than her!” but I ignored it all because it didn’t matter to me how much of a bytch you were. That’s why I love you. Yes, I still love you, Wisdom and I will never stop loving you. But you want this match so badly then by God’s will, you will have it.


Butch turns around, leaning his elbows against the railing, allowing his upper bodyweight to keep him up as he looks absentmindedly around him.


(Butch): But you, after all this, you have no idea about the rage that drives me. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved one is just... poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed so you'd be spared your pain.


Butch walks solemnly back into the room, approaching the drinks cabinet, pulling out an unopened bottle of imported Whyte & Mackay Scottish whiskey along with an accompanying glass. He unscrews the cap and fills the glass, staring into the golden liquid contents, a single tear drop dropping onto the glass’s outer rim as the scene fades to black.