The scene opens upe in an almost completely darkened room. The only light is a spotlight shining down in the centre of the room, signing down into the centre of a ring. A beaten and broken Chris Macbeth is slumped on the canvas blood pouring from a 3 inch gash in his head and his eyes almost closed with swelling.

Macbeth takes some deep breaths and attempts to push himself up top his feet, he gets him self to his knees but just collapses back onto his back on the canvas.

He is broken..

Macbeth slowly rolls onto his side and putting his hand down he pushes himself round onto all four and crawls towards the ropes finally his left hand touches and grabs the bottom rope, he pulls himself close then his right hand reaches up to the second rope and pulls him up slightly, finally letting go of the bottom rope he reaches up with his left hand a grips the top rope.

Pain!!!

Excruciating pain!!!

Too much pain for Chris Macbeth as his grip slips and he falls back down to the canvas sweat and blood splattering and staining this normally clean white ring.

Looking through the blurry almost swollen closed eyes of Chris Macbeth you can see a silloette of feet walking, pacing back and forth but whose feet??

Who do they belong to..

The feet start to walk towards Macbeth and stop as the get to his broken body. Hands appear in shot and hold Macbeth by the head slowly lifting him to his feet. Still Dazed and confused Macbeth tries to focus his wobbly frame as the silloette now in full very takes a few steps back.

Macbeths eyes begin to focus just has the figure lift a steel chail into the air before bringing it down onto Chris Macbeth’s head knocking his vision back blurry at the same time as knocking him back to the canvas square on his back.

Still looking through the eyes of the broken Macbeth, newly dazed by that crazed chair shot you see a face come into shot, the face of the person swinging that steel chair, the face of Mark Flynn!!!

Flynn’s face disappears as Macbeth slowly drifts into unconsciousness.

Macbeth’s eye’s open just enough to see a boot come down hard onto his gut. Excruciating pain can be felt throughout his entire body. The face of World-1 International leans in towards him and smiles before more pain can be felt has World-1’s hand slaps down around Macbeth’s face.

Macbeth can feel his body being slowly lifted to his feet.

When will this all end…

Slumped in the turnbuckle Macbeth struggling to keep himself upright to keep himself conscious he thinks to himself is it over? Has it finished? Please tell me it has finished? That was a wasted thought as World-1 international drives a steel chair into Macbeth’s stomach causing blood to splutter out of his mouth and down his chin. Macbeth stumbles forward into the centre of the ring his as another swining chair shot comes in from Mark Flynn catching Macbeth on the side of the head causing him to spin 180 degrees right into another stinging chair shot from World-1 International.

The canvas slowly seems to be getting closer, SLAM, Macbeth’s head bounces of the floor.

Blackness…

Blackness…

Blackness…


The broken Macbeth’s eyes slowly open, without moving because moving hurts just too damn much Macbeth attempts to look around himself, at least anything that is in eye shot..

Nothing…

Now just listening, listening to the sounds of this darkened room, listening for any sign that the causes of all this pain are still here.

Nothing…

Are we sure it is over, am I safe again?

Please…

Dear God Please…

How long have I been out???

Macbeth again slowly and painfully rolls onto his side and then round onto his front.

AAARRRHHHHH!!

The pain shoots through his body as he lifts himself onto his knees again. That seems to have taken every last spot of energy he had as it looks like there is nothing left for Macbeth as he remains slumped on his knees.

Must get up…

Must get out of here…
Must be ready…

Putting his hands back on the canvas he slowly begins to crawl one hand before the other towards the ropes.

Left…

Right…

Left…

Right…

Blood dripping out of the 3inch gash in his head and from the missing teeth in his mouth and from the freshly cracked nose.

A gruesome sight for the hardest of people…

Reaching to ropes again he slowly pulls himself to his feet, finally at his feet he leans over the ropes and takes a breath.

I’m sure no pain like this has ever been felt in a Wrestling ring.

How am I still alive?

I shouldn’t be still alive.

Why am I still alive?

Am I still alive?

Yes Chris Macbeth is still alive.

He slowly turns around leaning back against the ropes legs shaking erratically in pain he lets out a yell.

Looking up his heart drops as all the pain eases even if just for a second when he see’s twp feet launching through the air towards him, he closes his eyes moments before impact as the feet connect perfectly with his face flipping him backwards and up over the ropes and he slowly falls the big drop backwards out of the ring to the hard floor below, his eyes open if only for a second to see the face of Knightmasks face staring down at him as he falls.

---

Macbeth feels himself shaking, someone’s hand on his arm shaking him, is it not over. Suddenly he hears a voice, A woman’s voice.

“Sir”
“Sir”

Macbeth stirs and his eyes slowly open to se a beautiful woman smiling back at him.

“Sir, you need to put your seat belt on, we are coming into land”

Macbeth’s eyes fully open and he realizes his surrounding’s with relief.

Flight AA613 LAX – CHICAGO O’HAIRE.

He sits up straight and buckles his seat belt almost forgetting all about his dream or should we say nightmare. Looking out of the window he looks down as Chicago comes into sight.

Home sweet home he thinks to himself as he looks down and see Soldier Field and the SHED.
Home sweet home.