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JACK · (03-31-2015)

The cameras fade in on a play with very little budget, as there is only one backdrop that's painted on paper. The props range from plastic chairs, plastic tea cups, plastic tables, and plastic food. Stage managers and technicians can be seen off to the far left and far right, all of whom are wearing all black and sweating like pigs in a blanket. The lights glare off the poorly made wooden stage back into the camera, making everything overly bright and outright painful to look at for the many people at home watching this. Just then, two actors, a man and a man dressed as a woman, walk on stage from stage left. The man is dressed in casual wear, t-shirt, khakis, and sneakers while carrying a douchebag smirk and an arched eyebrow. The cross dresser has a straw hat on his/her head alongside a pair of shades, a silk white shirt, and red high heels.

The "female" actor is struggling to walk in a straight line, as his/her feet nearly slip and almost make her fall on her face. The male has his downstage arm hooked around his/her upstage arm just to keep him/her steady. They proceed to turn their bodies towards the audience and proceed to speak loud enough for the microphones hanging above them to pick them up.

"You okay...Mary? You seem a little sha-um-shaken up aboooout yesterday."

The man dressed like a dudebro appears to have never starred in a play before and just dressed up like this for fast money.

"Oh I'm fine. I just hadn't expected my own father to lie to me like that.

The other male sounds like his balls are being crushed by a press machine while he utters his lines. A couple of the stage hands can be heard laughing as the man speaks in way too high of a register.

"About the..."

An awkward silence comes and goes while the man on the viewer's right tries to remember his line.

"...sex with your...sister?"

"Not just that, Doug. He lied to me about who I was birthed from for eighteen years! I didn't come from a celebrated teacher, I came from a ten dollar hooker!"

A few more people in the back lose their shit after hearing a man's voice go that high.

"I can't let this get out to the others back at school, I just can't!"

The man in summer attire finds himself staring at the camera blankly with his mouth agape, as he honestly cannot remember what his next line is to save his life. This carries on for a few minutes until the footage is completely paused, leaving the man looking like a dumbass while his fellow actor waits for his cue until the play button is pressed once again.

"That's about enough of that, wouldn't you agree?

Just then, the footage of the play gets sliced in half, destroying it and any future play-through of the tape. Jack can be seen walking through the now destroyed footage towards the camera. There is no backdrop behind him, just darkness and a lamp pointing down at him to show up on the camera. Before he speaks, he turns the camera around to reveal absolutely no one holding it. No one from his group, none of the people he saved and recruited, and no one wrapped in bandages keeping it steady. Jack turns the camera back towards him and takes a couple of steps back, giving him enough room to stretch and move around without any problems.

"Not a single XWF staff member to pester me while I give you my word about my return. I'm rather thankful for that, since I don't have to worry about my videos having enough action in them or having to do another take because some man in the background sneezed. That is, unless you're like everyone else in this company."

There is a momentary pause.

"Much like the play one of my former children was in, the fighters in this corporation always have to keep the camera filmed on them to make sure they're the center of attention and that their words aren't lost on the viewers. However, many of the wrestlers end up finding themselves in strange situations that seem way too well timed to be considered coincidental. Murders end up taking place just as they arrive to save the people in distress, disasters such as plane crashes and robberies somehow manage to occur just after they finish talking shit on their opponent, and whatever heinous crime they somehow manage to commit, they always seem to get away with them without drawing any suspicion towards the cops.

"Now just what am I getting at? Why would I start this video off with a play from one of my sons and talk about how amazingly lucky the cameramen are to acquire such an amazing feat multiple times over? I can't possibly be accusing any of these wrestlers of scripting their promos, could I?"

Another pause fills the air as Jack lets the viewer fill in the blanks.

"It's one of the few reasons why I disbanded the Hidden Order and chose to film with this cheap camcorder I have on me. I was tired of acting like someone I wasn't. Someone that's no more complex than a flat, one dimensional character. I want to be free to express myself and what I'm capable of without the use of scripts, after effects, and actors. Everyone else, however, continues to act like the puppets they really are just so the management can make a quick buck off of them.

He exhales quickly, getting his concerns off his chest.

"Cain, the former dragon turned mercenary, is just one of the many tools that choose to fake their personality for the profit of the XWF. He chooses to build himself up as an unstoppable monster of a man that parades himself as immortal and kills people with powers inside of them in order to retain it. He also chooses to spare some people in order for them to witness his 'glory' in the ring and threatens to murder infants and make the parent eat it. Now why would a business man like Kirk McClay choose a monster like him for his alliance? Simple. He's an actor that plays the part well. Blood packs might have been used to create the illusion of murder, which explains why many policemen haven't stopped by in the middle of a recording to slap the cuffs on them."

A smirk can barely be seen under the bandages.

"You can play dumb and pretend that I have no idea what I'm talking about, but I've watched what everyone in your clique released on this site, and I have a hard time believing that any of them actually gained superpowers, traveled inside their own mind, managed to keep the cameras on during a medical emergency, whatever else the rest of them managed to pull off through the use of editing, sets, and fake scenarios. You seem to rely heavily on the same plot for your videos. You open with a gritty setting, like you stand in the back alley or darkened building, kind of like the one I'm in here, kill people for the sake of it, brag about your immortality, and then touch upon your opponents with barely enough material for them to disprove."

Beat.

You changed things up a bit by having your father speak for you instead of you yourself, possibly because you couldn't handle losing to a glam rockstar while you paraded about being a superhuman that would take his precious title. Strange how one's ego can fall after a few days, isn't it?

He closes his visible eye and shakes his head.

"I'm sure he knows how to follow a script as well as his supposed son, so I might as well address the concerns that came out of my opponent's head originally. Starting off with how I was merely a minor factor for me and Pest winning the tag team titles. If you're accusing me of such, someone clearly hasn't been paying attention to the matches we were in. Pest had backstabbed me and put me in his patented piledriver and had himself eliminated. When he walked away, I ended up kicking out of the pin and stealing the match, making us the number one contenders for Kendall's belts. If it were any other competitor on his team, which there wouldn't have been, Jill and Sakoto would've earned the shot for the belts.

"In the championship match, Pest was being dominated by Meta, a man who clearly out classed him in terms of age and power. So he then tagged out to me, where I had not only blocked a ham sized fist with one hand, but lifted him over my head and threw him down to the floor with amazing ease. If it weren't for me, he probably would've died square in the middle of the ring. Of course, those four months ago, I was still trusting people and willing to push their differences aside. How stupid of a decision that was. No matter; I did all of the dirty work and he took all of the credit. Of course, my views on people have changed by now, and I will no longer be anybody's tag along. Unlike your 'client', Mr. Arkham."

Another smirk can barely been seen creeping up behind the bandages.

"Your 'baby boy' is part of a pack now. He has to share his food with the others, as much as he'd hate to admit it. He might be a gigantic, powerful monster of a man, but I'm a hybrid of creature that I'm sure your supposed son hasn't seen before. I have the strikes of a kangaroo, the amazing strength of an elephant, the cunning of a raccoon, and the speed of a rabbit, all bundled together to make me. Of course, a man burned alive cannot acquire these powers by inhaling ash or being near a nuclear explosion. A man like me pushes himself to the limit because he wants vengeance against the man who murdered his wife and two children in cold blood. To me, you're not the beast you present yourself as."

Jack takes a couple of steps forward, attempting to be serious and real.

"You're nothing more than an actor I have to get through in order to get the man I really want. Not D'Ville, Lane, Duke, or any other champion in this company. I'm after Mr.

. The man who made me the bandaged man I am today.

He pauses as he begins to walk backwards, out of the scene and the light.

"I've played my cards, Arkham 'family'. Feel free to plan out your moves carefully and write your script now, because you really only have one take to convince me you're not doing this for show. The stage has been set. Perform for them, puppet.

With that, Jack walks out of view. The camera keeps filming nothing for a little while before the scene fades to white.

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