Quote:*OOC Notes:
1. Apologies for the late showing this week, been busier than I anticipated.
2. The first part is off camera, and the second part is on camera.
3. Good luck to everyone in the match.

Part 1

“Oh my fucking god,” Harrison screams out at the top of his lungs as he awakens from his nightmare, covered in sweat that is running down his face.

Steve Wujcik had been peacefully listening to some Beethoven on his cassette player (yes, he’s still not upgraded to the modern day platforms), but is startled by Harrison’s scream and quickly removes the earphones and turns to check on his employer-come-friend.

“What’s up?” Wujcik bellows, forgetting he no longer has his earphones on.

“Fucking ducks,” Harrison curses.

Not this again Wujcik says inwardly.

“Where was it this time?” he asks.

“It was right there,” he says pointing towards the window on their right. “It was looking right at us. You know, giving you that stare with those evil beady black eyes. If looks could kill...” he says and tails off, and mumbles something inaudible under his breath as he looks over worryingly in the direction of the window – which for the record is empty and has no duck looking through it!

Just then a stewardess appears with a panic stricken look on her face. She had heard the scream back in the coach section while serving some children with a can of coke, and at the time she had thought the worst and hurried as quickly as she could to the first class cabin. Now she was looking down at a man in his thirties sweating profusely with a blank expression on his face. In all her years she had only heard two other people scream like that, and both of them was during a serve bout of turbulence. In this case, the flight was perfectly smooth and hassle free; and for the life of her she couldn’t see what was wrong with him as she knelt down beside the two men.

“I heard screams, are you ok?” she asks with a concerned look on her face.

Mike doesn’t answer. He still looks like he is in a daze, or at least confused and trying to piece together what just went on.

“Yes, he’s ok, it was just a nightmare,” Wujcik answers for him.

“Thank God, I thought something really bad had happened,” she replies, clearly relieved.

“Thank you for your concern. It might take him a few minutes, but he usually comes around pretty quickly. Hell, I’m certain he’ll ask for your number!”

She laughs, but then her curiosity takes over.

“What was his nightmare about?”

“It isn’t my place to say, but let’s say that it involves ducks.”

“Ducks,” she repeats with a confused look on her face.

Wujcik nods.

“Well that’s a first. In all my time flying I’ve never heard of anyone that has had a nightmare about ducks on a plane,” she says with a smile. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We will, thank you again,” Wujcik replies and returns his attention to Mike.

She turns and leaves, returning to the coach section.

“And you say I am an embarrassment?” Wujcik says with distain.

SMACK!

“My nose,” Wujcik squeals upon being hit with a back handed slap right to the bridge of his nose.

Harrison glares at Wujcik and then closes his eyes, hoping and praying that this time his sleep will be more peaceful.

Part 2
The scene fades in as the cameraman emerges from the double doors that lead us into an empty, run down gymnasium. He proceeds cautiously, not knowing what to expect. As he walks the camera pans around the gym and we get a view of a weight rack with well worn weights. The next image to come into view is a set of padded mats on the floor, some of which are held together by duck tape holding their inners inside. We then see a number of punch bags, and medicine balls on the floor – again, well worn.

The silence is broken by a thud over in the opposite corner. The cameraman turns around sharply and a figure is stood in the ring, standing over what looks to be a black steel folding chair which has been set up in the centre of the ring. We decide to head on over to see who the man is, and it turns out to be none other than XWF’s Mike Harrison. He looks sweaty from his workout that is pinning his white Orlando Magic, number one Tracy McGrady jersey to his chest. He smiles briefly as we reach ring and welcomes us to enter it. A few awkward moments later the cameraman is stood in the ring with the camera focused on Mike Harrison as he begins to address the situation.

|| Mike Harrison ||
“This week I’ve been placed into a situation which I do not welcome. Fact is I don’t play well with others. You see, I am the type of guy that always looks after number one, and number one alone. That has got me to where I am today. It is not how I’ve always been. Back in the day I used to be in a tag team, but when my partner turned on me during my world title shot, it was at that point that I realised that the only person I can trust is me. Now perhaps I should not tar everyone with the same brush, but alas, this business is full of turncoats. People that only align themselves with you as long it is in their best interest to do so. When that moment comes when their interests are best served elsewhere – BAM – most will not hesitate to take you out.

It is the way of the business. Survival of the fittest. Winner takes all. Since that night when my partner screwed me over in a jealous rage, I have been a lone wolf, but this week at Warfare I am being forced to place my livelihood in the hands of four other men that I do not know. Four men, I do not trust. Four men, that could as easily sell me down the river as have my back, and by that same notion – four men, that I could as easily sell down the river as have their backs...”

The camera focuses on Harrison’s emotionless face as he takes a seat in the middle of the ring.

|| Mike Harrison ||
“Like I said. I do not know any of my partners except Peter Gilmour. The guy that lost the chance to become this company’s King. Now I won’t criticise him for his defeat, because after all, he lost to one of the best in the world. But despite his defeat, I believe he has the ability to step up in this match and get the job done. Do I believe he will have my back? No. Do I believe that he will not sell me down the river? No. Should he believe that I will have his back? No. And should he believe that I will not sell him down the river?”

Harrison arches an eyebrow.

|| Mike Harrison ||
“I think you know the answer to that question – NO!

Call me selfish. Call me a narcissist. Call me whatever you want. I honestly do not care. This match means as much to me as it did Mr Radio. You see, lone wolves like me prefer to walk their own path, and put their own fate in their own hands. Now sure, my team could come out this week and win a title shot. So while I am not committed body and soul to my team, to this match – I will do whatever it takes, within reason, to give my team the best chance of victory. A victory for this team is a victory for me. A title shot for this team is a title shot for me. By now you should notice a pattern, this is all about me, and what is best for me. The one thing my team needs to understand is that I will always put my own interests ahead of anyone else, and that includes this so-called team. But, as long as it is within my best interest, I’ll play ball.”

He stands up and grabs hold of the top of the steel chair, his grip so firm that his knuckles turn a shade of white.

|| Mike Harrison ||
“Now like my team, I only know of one of my opponents, and that is the guy I beat on debut in Jason E Smith. Personally I am in no place to go through each person one by one. By now I am sure that at least one of my so-called partners has done just that. I am sure they will have analysed each person, and said how good they are, or how bad they are. What they can bring to this match, and what they can’t. So on, and so forth...

I’m not going to waste my time on my opponents because they aren’t worth it. The fact of the matter is that if me and Peter Gilmour turn up, we can bring the house down. The match is stacked in our favour, and as long as we can co-exist and not turn on each other – sorry, I can’t guarantee not wanting to take him out after what he said about me – then we can break our opposition in half, because guys like us are destructive. We are dominant superstars. We are special talents, elite talents; and frankly, everyone else is just, well, not on our level. Sorry if the truth hurts, but honesty is sometimes needed in occasions like this. Now obviously my opponents will disagree. They will believe that this is their chance for glory. But mark my words your fairy tale will only come true if I allow it to. And as it stands, folks, you’re out of luck!”

Harrison lifts the chair and folds it up, and then points it directly at the camera.

|| Mike Harrison ||
“Guys, you need to watch out at Warfare because when I get into that ring, I will hurt someone. The question is who. My advice is not to stand in my way. Walk away now and I’ll give you a free pass. But stand in my way and you know what will happen. I have made a career at hurting people. I have broken more wrestlers than I can remember. I have ended careers in order to further my own. This match might just further my career, and sometimes, the biggest impact is not always the obvious one. Sometimes the biggest impact is to leave a lasting mark, and mark my words I will do just that come game night!

Come Warfare, if all goes well, I will be walking away from the carnage that I will leave in that ring, towards a whole new carnage when I rip Angelus’ belt from this beaten, bloodied, broken body...

And if you don’t like that, then you can choke on that sunshine!”

Suddenly out of nowhere Harrison swings the steel chair and hits the camera [and perhaps the cameraman as well]. The camera falls to the floor and smashes, and instantly our scene fades to black.