The scene opens in a quaint hotel room in San Diego, California, the site of tonight's Wednesday Night Warfare. As is standard for San Diego, the sun is shining brightly into this room, and the temperature, both inside the room and outside, sits at a consistent 72 degrees Fahrenheit.

The camera is propped up on a nightstand, sitting next to an alarm clock that's flashing 3:02, despite it being 9:15 in the morning. The room contains one twin-sized bed, which, following Tony's slumber the prior evening, is a mess of blankets and pillows strewn throughout, as well as on the floor. Also on the floor lies a torn Sports Illustrated magazine, an empty Blue Bottle coffee cup, and... an apple? Yes, an apple, with one bite taken out of it.

Sitting opposite from the camera is Tony Santos in a modest little beige hotel lounge chair, typical of the sort that you see at seemingly every Marriott, Days Inn, and every other hotel chain under the sun. Sitting back in his chair, feet up, head tilted back, he smiles a very awkward, not-so-matter-of-fact smile, as if he's not truly comfortable in his current state. Nonetheless, he jolts his head forward and looks at the camera.

Santos: Eli James. Good ol' Eli freakin' James. It's been an interesting week for you and me, hasn't it? We've had an opportunity to get to know each other a little bit more than we did before we were matched up together. Ain't that just dandy? Damn, if only I'd had the opportunity to see how truly kind and persuasive you really are, hell, maybe I'd have taken you up on your offer to join The Congregation. Maybe we'd be standing side-by-side in the back before tonight's event, me cheering you on as you defend your title against some other fool. Hell, maybe we'd still be facing off in that very ring, allies after a belt that, no matter what the outcome, would be staying within the same ranks. Maybe, just maybe, your master wordsmith abilities and gripping tales would make me realize that, I, Tony Santos, am just a mere follower of Eli James, and I'd willfully and happily lay down for you. 1... 2... 3, so you could retain your shiny new title.

But probably not.

See, Eli, all you've proven to me through your rantings and ravings over this past week is that you can take up a whole lot of time and a whole lot of energy saying absolutely nothing. Since we began our little exchange last week, you've been saying the same... damn... empty, meaningless words. I'm a sinner, someone who's lost and who will crumble under his addiction to alcohol. My cure? Eli James, of course. You control the path to the Promised Land, and all I need to do is take your hand, realize my foolish ways, and make my way down the path to salvation. You're the reason we're all here! You allow us to exist on this godforsaken earth, and you'll be the one to determine if we make keep on truckin' on to the afterlife. You're our savior!

Tony chuckles, then scratches an itch that's been building on his forearm.

Santos: Eli, what you promise is the pure definition of fool's gold. You consider me too dense... not enlightened enough... to understand you, to comprehend you, to truly get what you're selling. But here's the thing, Eli... I'd be an idiot if I did follow you down the path to your version of salvation. Following you down that road wouldn't lead me to paradise... it wouldn't lead me to any damned Promised Land... it'd lead me to the edge of a cliff, and there you'd be, right behind me, ready to push me off.

Eli, I've dealt with your kind before. You believe that you're better than everyone else, that you know things that we don't. You're above us, smarter than us, more enlightened. You want to help us, free us of our sins. That's what you say, Eli, but here's the truth... the real truth... the truth as discovered by a human being who has flaws and who admits those flaws, and who has learned from real experiences, rather than living through my own delusions...

You're in this for yourself. You're in this for material, human things. You may say that there are bigger, more important, ethereal reasons behind your actions, but you're as scared, confused, and uncertain as the rest of us. You have no idea that lies ahead. What does an idiot with no certainty do? He spouts off a lot of meaningless mumbo jumbo, hoping that, if he talks long enough and loud enough, no one will reason how meaningless his words really are. Sorry to tell ya, Eli...

but that's you.

You'll hold on to this US Title as long as humanly possible. Why? Because you're just as damn well confused as the rest of society about what lies ahead, you're just dumb enough to preach something so idiotic with so much certainty. You'll fight to hold on to that title no matter the cost, no matter the people, even loved ones, that you'll have to hurt along the way.

Eli, I know your kind. You're as loud as a homeless street preacher, spouting off the word of god, preaching forgiveness, compassion, and generosity. But the moment a modicum of change hits the pavement, that street urchin will fight and claw to hold on to it, to hell with anyone else... values be damned. Why? Because he's just as concerned about the here and now, not sure if, should he starve and pass on, whether he'd reach the afterlife or just be buried in the ground.

Eli, for all of talking that you've done, you clearly don't listen. Not to yourself, and not to anyone else. An example of this? I clearly and unequivocally rejected your offer to join The Congregation. Not out of a lack of confidence, but, honestly, because I wouldn't dare put my future to chance. So many things can happen in the squared circle, and I wouldn't dare even give myself the opportunity to fall into the lap of The Congregation. I won't join your group of lemmings, and I sure as hell won't lead myself to the edge of a cliff for you to push me off. I'll go out on my own terms, and I sure as hell won't sacrifice my dignity and pride for a false prophet, a demigod, or whatever you wish to call yourself.

Tony leans forward in his chair, strands of hair making their way over his eyes. Glaring at the camera, every muscle in his face frozen in their current state, Tony speaks...

Santos: So, please, Eli, since I seemingly didn't make myself clear last time, let me tell you one more time...

I won't join your group of fools. I won't sacrifice my sense of self for The Congregation. I will sin until I'm dead and buried. When that day comes, please, feel free to preach about how foolish and misguided I was. About how you could have saved my poor, poor soul from an eternity of hell, fire, and brimstone. There will be nothing I can do to stop you. But tonight...

Just be ready to lose the only real bit of meaning that you have in your poor little life. Be ready to lose your title.

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion