The shot opens on Madison Dyson on the second floor of her expansive McMansion. She's looking out a large bay window into her well maintained yard. Beyond the in ground pool and the gardens tended to the finest not quite legal boarder crossers money can by, is an ornate white gazebo. In it, Mercy is seated cross legged. She's wearing a black hoodie and yoga pants. In fact, she would be almost indistinguishable from your typical toned thirty something suburban housewife save for the fact that she's still wearing that eerie porcelain doll mask.

Madison watches as the crisped leaves are pulled from the trees to the ground below, and so wrapped up is she in the sight that she doesn't catch Engy's reflection in the glass.

The hell is she doin'?

Madison gulps out a surprised cry and wheels around on him, placing her back to the glass.

JESUS! Ugh.....asshole!

She places a hand to her chest, catching the rhythm of her quickened heartbeat.

You're such a dick! In multiple, MULTIPLE fashions!

That many?

MULTIPLE! You've been ducking me....

Madison turns back to the glass. Engy sidles up next to her. He removes a Dum-Dum sucker from the pocket of his frayed jacket and pops it in his mouth.

Because I knew you were just gonna bitch me out about the Samuels thing.

YES! Because that was INSANE! Look, I don't give a flying fuck about the Kings either, but if you're gonna kill someone can you at least do it in a promo like a normal person? Explaining away LIVE murder is a bit trickier, ya know?

Soldier did it.

Madison makes a hand wavy motion.

Yeah, but nobody will miss Reeve. Look, my point is this: I realize you don't NEED me in quite the same way you did before. You can cut your own spaghetti and form polysyllabic words. Great! But if I'm going to be your manager we still need to COMMUNICATE. Which means, the next time you plan to do something psychotic at least give me a heads up so I can get a lead on damage control.

Engy smiles and turns to Madison. He puts one hand on each of her shoulders and turns her towards him.

You're touching me.

Look into my eyes.

She does so begrudgingly.

I apologize. I let my anger get the best of me and I took your aid for granted. Furthermore, I feel like I've gotten a much better understanding recently of your philosophy.

First off, “are you drunk”? Second off, “what philosophy?”

Stone cold sober. And your philosophy, you know. Using the XWF as a medium for so much more...using it to convey a message, a point of view.

Madison backs away a tad, shooting him a strange look. Engy's hands drop from her shoulders.

....huh.

What?

Took you long enough to come around.

Madison speaks the words in a measured tone. But the barest sliver of caution is evident there, just beneath the surface. Engy smiles again, and the effect is disconcerting. He looks out the window.

You never answered me. What is she doing?

Oh, it's some kind of east coast yuppie liberal transcendental meditation bullshit she picked up when she was a supermodel living in LA. By the by, you're tagging with her at Warfare.

Since when?

]Since a couple days ago. I got it booked.

So I have to babysit your pet lunatic. Seems kind of like something we should have COMMUNICATED about before hand, no?

Madison smirks at his pointed use of “communicated”.

Cute. And consider this quid pro quo for the years I spent babysitting your lunatic ass.

Engy looks to the side, perplexed.

I honestly can't even dispute that.

I know, right?

Very well. Me and Mercy against.....whoever it is we're up against.

Michelle's dude and some new bitch who's basically “Jenny Myst cosplay Barbie.” You got this.

Engy looks back out the window at Mercy.

She's single, right?

Ew.

Later....

We see The Engineer in a tool shed somewhere. Numerous bladed, hooked, and barbed instruments of lawn care and hedge destruction are hung behind him. Before him, is one of those old fashioned stone wheels used for sharpening blades. Engy brings Kingbreaker's blade to the mill, pumping the wheel and sharpening the blade. He does this for a moment or so before picking the blade back up again. He blows on the edge, and the air passing the serrated edge whistles. He places the blade down next to him and looks up at the camera.

I'm not a bad guy.

He says plainly to the camera, holding his hands forward palms up.

Look, I got an internet connection. I see what people have been sayin' about me after Leap of Faith. I mean, besides PETA being up my ass now I got people on Twitter saying I'm crazy, that I should be fired before I really do hurt somebody. That I've taken things TOO far with the Kings.

An incredulous expression mars his features.

I'm sorry, but have you guys seen some of the shit that goes on on XWF programming? I already said that earlier on the card some twink got his throat cut. Weeks back Jody Madrox came packin' a decapitated head in a box. And nowadays it seems like every other guy on the roster has evil multiple personalities or is on a first name basis with the devil. But I'm psycho?! I'm the big pox on XWF?!

People, listen to yourselves. Take a deep breath. I'm not the “great Satan” here. I was defending myself. Shit, I was defending this promotion. Because we all know that The Kings are a cancer. Probably rectal. They take and they take and they take. And I proved at Leap of Faith, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Kings are not nearly as strong as they appear. That they are nothing more than a two man unit with hangers on John Madison and John Samuels showing up to collect a check and offering NOTHING of any substance. Giving NOTHING back.

I'm a good guy.



His gaze flicks back down towards the sword.

So to you Mark, and you Bentley, don't be poisoned by all this bullshit you're hearing about me. This sword? It's not for you. I ain't gonna kill ya. Rough ya up a bit, sure. Maybe bite a bit. It's kinda my thing.

I can't speak for Mercy though. That bitch is nuts.


Engy waves his hands in the air, like he's trying to erase a rhetorical chalkboard.

Bad start. Bad start. Mark, and I know your name IS Mark. Sloppy, sloppy bookmaking that. Ya know, if I ran the show shit like that wouldn't happen.

I know who you are. Lotta guys around here like to pretend that the newcomers are beneath their notice. It's fucking stupid is what it is. I mean, I was a newcomer once. Robbie Bourbon was a newcomer. Jim Caedus. All top guys and big winners at Leap of Faith. All of us thought of as inconsequential while the ink was still drying. That's the kind of mistake a Chris Chaos makes. But not me. Not Engy.

Guys like us Mark, we're the future. We're the anti-Kings, we got nothin' to do but GIVE and nowhere to go but UP. We're gonna be the ones puttin' asses in the seats for years to come. So no, Mark, I ain't gonna denigrate you and pretend you're beneath me. That shit's for hacks and idiots, and I ain't playin' the idiot card anymore.

That is not to say, Mark, that you will necessarily reach the top. I mean, that's on YOU. But even if you don't ever grab the brass ring, every pond needs guppies to keep the big fish satiated, know what I mean? I know you do, I know you do. You were smart enough to put a ring on a beautiful woman like that. Which, matter of fact, what are you doin' teaming with Bentley anyway? Shouldn't you be with your woman? Or was this another administrative fuck-up?

Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.



The Xtreme champion shakes his head incredulously.

And now Bentley, don't think I'm bein' SEXIST or nothing by not addressing you. It's just that, well, you're more Mercy's deal. But I'm gonna do you a solid. I'm gonna warn you.

I don't think Mercy's as nice as me.

I mean, if even HALF the shit Madison's told me about this chick is true. **WHEW** Goddamn! You got your hands full girl. I hear she really, really, hates blondes in particular too.

Ok, so here's what you do. Don't. Tag. In. Simple as that. Stay out of the match. Pretty creature like you, it just won't do to have you come out of this lookin' like you came out the wrong end of a wood chipper. Ya know, you kinda remind of of my ex Tomi too. Great girl. Beautiful girl. Just didnt work out, know what I mean? Too needy. Blowin' up my phone all the time with these “just checkin' in” texts. What the fuck's the point a all that? God rest her soul. Scratch that. I hope she's not dead.

Anyhoo, I sincerely look forward to what fresh blood like you has to say. And don't forget, my Xtreme championship is, as always, on the line. So if one of you gets one over on 'ol Engy? Instant superstardom.

And hey, the next time you guys see somebody draggin' my name through the mud on the internet, remember that I ain't a bad guy and put in a good word for me.

We all gotta stick together.


Engy smiles, and black ooze starts to seep out between his teeth before the scene abruptly cuts to static.