HWA Message Board: You're Right Too Erica

Open scene.

Tobias is already in view, centered right in the camera, this time he’s sat down into a high backed leather chair. He’s not slouching, of course not, he’s firmly settled, back upright, but nevertheless, he’s got that ‘comfortable’ look, that lounging elegance that speaks of someone utterly at ease and in control.

It may have something to do with the woman currently massaging his feet and ankles. Head down, focused on her work, he pays her no heed.

A small ‘come hither’ movement by him with the index finger of his right hand has the camera move closer.

With his left hand, Tobias reaches off camera, bringing a few seconds later into view a perfectly presented mojito. The mint is vibrant, the soda bubbling and the first sip that follows brings bliss.

(Tobias): A celebratory drink.

Another sip follows.

(Tobias): Why? Because not only did the animal kingdom lose at Havoc, but we got to see the real Nepo-Prince himself in all his glory.

A chuckle, with the mojito being raised to his lips once again.

(Tobias): Temper tantrums that would put even Jamal to shame… actually, I do wonder if he found the time to inhale some of that burning General Lee. Let’s be honest, it’s the sort of thing he’d do…

Another chuckle as he shifts in his chair, the poor masseuse needing to adjust her positioning to keep up her efforts lest he turn his attention to her.

(Tobias): Yes, so, temper tantrums being thrown at aunts and uncles, then the ‘no, hold me back buddy’ that you and Branson went through. Something seen the world over in bar brawls, alleyways, family gatherings that go sideways… ‘I’m going to beat you all up’... sure you are.

An exaggerated wink and a smile is hot on the heels of his last words there, before another sip of the mojito is enjoyed.

(Tobias): If only it wasn’t for that pesky Branson holding you back Sean, if only...

Stretching out languidly, he drapes one arm over the back of the leather chair, leaning forward slightly, glass in hand.

(Tobias): I see you’ve been taking a leaf out of Monkey’s book though, going through Wikipedia and jotting down the Greek names to drop into that spiel you gave us… likewise the montage… well done on being close, but not that close to any of the Rocky films so that your aunt and uncle don’t have to deal with any lawsuits…

Once more, the mojito is sipped.

(Tobias): I do have a question for you Sean, and I hope you can answer. What’s with all the ‘they say’ nonsense? Sky Assassin? Who the f*ck calls you that? Buddy, I’m getting major Trump vibes from you on that one. ‘Many people say’... know what I mean?

This isn’t your house.

The mojito is placed to one side, out comes the notebook with a flourish.

Flicking the pages, Tobias consults what he’s written, before looking back to the camera.

(Tobias): In your house, nobody leaves unscathed. Physically or mentally. Do they? Well, yes, I do agree with that. The level of service from the staff at times is absolutely abysmal. How hard is it to order in Evian for me?

In the House of the Assassin, you may win the odd battle here and there but you’ll never win the war. Urgh... Sun Tzu says this, that and the other. Read more Sean, be better.

In the House of the Assassin, you lose a piece of yourself no victory thereafter will ever replace. Ooo, how ominous sounding Sean… aimed at you and your fellow Nepo-Squad members I presume, given how battered and bruised you’ve all become in the last year…

Only by standing within the four walls of the House of the Assassin will any of you realise your true worth. See, there’s a reason I’m called the Sky Assassin. They call me the Sky Assassin because when I leave my feet, when I fly through the air, bad things happen to those in the firing line.

The note pad drops down, crowing laughter erupts that takes more than a few seconds to subside.

(Tobias): Sure buddy, sure…

Almost wiping a tear away, he carries on.

(Tobias): They call me the Sky Assassin because nobody can do what I can do, because nobody else’s lungs can cope with the lack of oxygen at the heights I can go to.

They call me the Sky Assassin because by the time you see me coming, it's too late. Death from above.

The notepad is dropped to the ground, almost clattering off the masseuse. Not that Tobias notices or cares, naturally.

(Tobias): You’re absolutely right about one thing and one thing alone there Sean, the lack of oxygen… and it’s all down to you sucking it all in and believing the hype, the delusion. It’s all self inflicted buddy.

You’re no ‘Sky Assassin’. This isn’t ‘your house’. You’re a man who spends more time in the ER ward than in a ring. All that time you have to be hitting the punching bag, jumping rope and everything else? It’s because you’re rehabbing. I’ve watched your matches, they’re very entertaining, but only because it’s a total toss up if you’re leaving on a stretcher or on your own two feet…

He picks his mojito back up again.

You’ve had more concussions than I’ve had parafango wraps Sean.

You don’t allow sh*t.

What you do do, is wait until after the fact, then engage a production company to help you call out what you would have done, if it wasn’t for that pesky Branson, or if it wasn’t for the millionth concussion you’ve had, or if it wasn’t for that time you spent in a wheelchair, or if, or if, or if...

He trails off, raising the mojito up as if in salute to the camera.

(Tobias): Your name is Sean Parker. The King of the Hospital Bed. Nepo-Prince. Second Generation professional ‘wrestler’…

The air quotation marks are made as he says the last word there.

(Tobias): Eleven years in this business, but let’s not get into the specifics of how much of that has been spent in traction…

Draining his mojito, he settles back into the chair.

(Tobias): Erica, chica, you may be nuts, but you’re spot on. They are intimidated by us, aren’t they? If they’re not flocking together for safety, they’re running to hide behind their aunt and uncle’s backs because now they’re not the big fish in the pond anymore.

He claps his hands together.

(Tobias): But they can be better. Let’s make them, in our own ways.

He toasts the camera with his empty glass, as the scene fades out to black.