[R A D I C A L]

RADICAL/RECOIL/XWF#009/EVENT#1 ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------- ------------------- ------- BEGIN Opening to Gabe Reno sitting on an old crusty wood pier dangling his feet off the side. The sun hits his smile, as people walk up and down the pier behind him. Waves crash along the muscle encrusted support beams below. You know, as a kid I loved the ocean. The way the breeze hit my face and the sand warmed my toes... it seemed to be the only place where my family always got along. We would build sand castles and laugh together, help each other set up the canopy, put out blankets, or build a fire in the pit at night. I miss those innocent days as a kid sometimes, but as good as that felt... I've never felt better than I do right now. In a new place like XWF, with the entire future in front of me. A great tag team partner that genuinely cares for his craft and makes the most out of every chance he gets. Even as a match against him approaches at Savage, you have to respect the man and what he represents. Reminds me of... well, me. And what chance do we both get, but to silence all the commotion once again, sure, maybe not forever. But at least for now all the doubters can say well Chaos and Reno have never been much for tag teams, who knows if they are any good, who knows what they can do or if they can work together, who knows if they will get in each others way? This singles match will prove that no matter the winner, no matter the circumstances, we can win together, or a part. I can hear the chatter now... and yes, at times there have been tag teams in the history of our business that just didn't work. Whether because they were Nasty Boyz, or couldn't handle the Heat of Harlem, hell even The Rockers eventually separated when Michaels kicked Jannetty through that plate glass window. Even Mean Gene didn't see that one coming. But see that was all about being greedy, taking all the glory for yourself and not wanting to share the spotlight that victory brings. Who is more talented, who will jump to gold while abandoning the rest, who will get the hottest chick in the back to lick their scrotum the best? Well, that will not be a problem for Chaos and myself, because that chick has already licked mine, and I don't give a fuck who the best is. I only give a fuck about one thing, W's. Win or go home, as the great expression goes. Winning is the thing I care about above all, whether in a tag team, whether on my own, in a gauntlet, in a castle, in a boat, on a river, down by the sea shore, or in the fucking clouds. I don't give two fucks about anyone's opinion, I don't give three fuck's about anyone's feelings, I want to fucking WIN. AND SO DOES CHAOS. Right-Y-OH, BITCHES. That spells some bad shit for people like TRAX AND BOURBON. But just like that feeling I used to get as a kid, with the sunlight peaking through the clouds on that wonderful day in the sand... this feeling will be even better, when the referee at Savage raises my fucking hand. Gabe gets up and starts walking down the pier, the shot settles on the horizon, calm yet beautiful, powerful, and definite... just like his feeling. >>>>> The landscape of a pier above subtle crashing ocean waves comes into view. The day breaks with the sun half fallen beyond the horizon and shadows growing bigger before fading altogether. Dry hallowed out dinging heard as a result of the wind blowing left over bells and lures back and forth, the view panning up the mussel encrusted piling supports to the old rotting wooden railing. No one can be seen on the top deck with the exception of a solo angler; a hooded figure from behind in the distance leaning over side railing before coming back toward view quickly pulling up a fish net. Coiling the rope with two hands, he picks it up and throws it onto the pier behind him, then scavenges the potential’s. The Radical Damn, no sea loot. Low murmuring pessimism follows as the now clearly shown Reno empties an old Campbell’s soup can filled with seashells, grass, and a few chipped mussels then proceeds in untwining a rusty hook from the bottom of the net. Just then, Gabe stops for a moment and pulls a glimmering piece of something out of one of the shells from the soup can. A small smirk finally breaks the mundane dull nature of the man before looking around and tying the net back up then tossing it over again. Reno begins walking down the pier and gets about half way as another man tips his baseball cap at him running up the pier in the opposite direction. Man Hey, thanks. The Radical Don’t mention it… wasn't too chaotic anyway... The man runs up to the net and pulls it up; just then glimpsing down to the ground to notice the empty soup can and a rusty hook lying on the deck. He looks back up for the Reno, but he is now out of the line of sight. Man Son of a bitch! He jogs down to the end of the pier in front of a weathered “Thank You for Visiting the Coronado Ferry Landing” sign. Much like a small child crossing for the first time the man cautiously looks both ways and heads toward an intersection at “B Avenue” passing meters on the right and abandoned slanted parking spaces on the left. Bewildered he spins in a slow circle as the angle from below dizzies with a mixture of tall apartment buildings and downtown in the distance. Finally his eyes settle as the angle rises behind him and the dry squint on his face ends with the unveiling of a parking meter bent nearly to the ground and busted open with a change trail dissipating before turning at the next right street turn. The man’s jaw drops as he slowly backs up before turning in the direction of the pier. Man What in the world… A sudden shrill screech is heard simultaneously with the sound of the focus’s body being tossed from the impact of a dark colored SUV swiftly through the early morning air and into the brick wall of the washroom building at the base of the pier; what remains of him coming to a rolling thrust stop. The car stays in its halted position for a moment; just then a startled old fogy stumbles out of the bathroom on the other side of the wall and drops his paper bag. Leaning down to pick it up he notices the blackened dirty fingers of the recent hit and run reciprocate. He appears socked at the utter chaos. The man guards his eyes from the glare with his left arm, eyes widening with the realization of the scenario setting in at the same time looking directly into the headlights. A brief moment of showdown as the car turns swerving into the night and the homeless man drops to his wobbled knees in horror. >> Beep… beep… the reoccurring monotone machine sound fills the hearing spectrum. Nervous twitches in hand gestures and not being able to stand still in one place consume Gabe Reno who stands in blue jeans and a plaid button up shirt in front of two other people at a local market. Paper towels, toothpaste, floss, and many other generic household items cross the scanner with the only other sound stemming from the juvenile pimple faced customer service gem smacking his gum loudly while cashiering. A woman two lines away appearing to be in her late thirty’s, looks as if she just stepped outside of her house for the sole purpose of going to the supermarket for necessities, smiles at Gabe in line revealing her jagged unkempt mouth; prompting a response from the kid behind the counter. Supermarket Cashier She looks like Amy Winehouse and Gary Busey’s lovechild. A light chuckle from the Reno. Gabe gestures at who looks to be the kid’s manager, an older gentleman with hair pointing in several directions as if he used too much hairspray and a likely orange spray on tan to accompany his grumpy stomping disposition. The Radical Yeah, could be worse at least she doesn’t look like she’s saying corner gospels with a scripture sign that may or may not actually exist. Who would be the mother in a Winehouse-Busey love child scenario? The two share a laugh while the change is handed out and a female employee of the same age range begins bagging the groceries. The Radical Hey, uh… where’s there a good… stopping point, around here? The kid thinks for a second. Supermarket Cashier There’s no good stopping point’s out here. First timer to Davinough? My advice, keep driving. If you absolutely have to stop… maybe the Smoke Inn, rooms are relatively decent. Can’t say the same for the riff raff I’ve seen hanging around it. Sometimes it is complete chaos. No cable, though. The Radical Stay there often? It’s not for me, I have a friend coming to town and my place isn’t really suited…[/b] His face turns red as the cashier grins at the girl while she finishes handing the focus his bags. An old lady the next line over looking disoriented bags some groceries, her nametag bread "JOYCE"; clearly working there but seems confused. Supermarket Cashier I wouldn’t say often, but a few times. A smirk from Reno as he turns to walk out, then taps the old lady on the shoulder. The Radical You work here, darlin'. Gabe exits the store and walks over to put the groceries in the car out in the parking lot, then slams the trunk and gets in. Turning the radio to a few stations... RADIO STATION #1 Today in celebrity entertainment a certain leading man may not be a man at all... [Click]: Rolling his eyes at the nonsense. RADIO STATION #2 "I’m not saying gay marriage shouldn’t be legal, I just don’t think licking makes you gay... no matter how chaotic it may seem..." [Click]: Turning right with a squint then checking his rearview mirror. RADIO STATION #3 “Pandora’s box Lenny, that’s the theory. If people don’t stop spending more than they have, if culture doesn’t somehow spiral back up from this downward trend, people as a whole will stop caring. Trump doesn't control what we spend, that is up to us! It’s not a matter of how much time and energy we spend trying to fight each other or control situations, it’s the realization that we are metaphorically and quite literally eating ourselves… that is what people should be saying. But where are the masses, too distracted to think because or how hard they have to work just to scratch by. You know what, there’s a revolut…” [Click, OFF]: Arriving through a gate into a plush green landscape and swirling driveway in his newly purchased mansion. Parking in a spot labeled “Radical Only” as seen from over the top, he gets out and grabs the groceries. Cutting to a steel appliance monstrosity of a kitchen inside. Panning slowly to the bags sitting on the counter being grabbed one by one and placed into the silver giant refrigerator; Gabe shakes up an energy drink and pops it open. Taking an end of the day type deep sigh he relaxes for a moment before a look at his watch. The Radical Shit… totally forgot... Scampering into another room and clicking a remote from halfway over an armchair. The frantic button punching arrives at a Vinnie Lane giving a speech at some sort of event, a ribbon behind her of white and gold with a sign saying “Saturday Night Savage Card Unveiling”. The Radical I’ll be damned… A buzzing interrupts his intense stare at the television but he snaps out of it and answers while walking to a small bar area and pouring himself a glass of Jack Daniels. The Radical Is that you? The other side is a low murmur but we can pick up a bit. Other End Are you seeing this bullshit, really, a tag match then pin us against each other... The Radical I wouldn’t worry too much; look people are less likely to give a fuck about the tag match, he did this knowing that, to draw attention to us so that one stays low key... it works to our advantage, we can sneak up on the tag division and pounce… Taking a swig of Jack and putting it down on the coffee table in front of him, Friendly cuts then lights a cigar from a box on the side table next to his left hand. Other End He must be getting a real big fucking laugh out of this. The Radical Doesn't matter, we will still win that match, he thinks dividing us will accomplish keeping us separated so that we has two viable singles guys instead of one good tag team... smart, but not smart enough. Puff… Puff… Other End I agree we will win that match, but how are you going to feel after you lose at Savage, we gonna be cool? The Radical You're funny. Other End What? Puff… Puff… Other End Maybe we should go in there and tell him what we think of this idea? The Radical I got it. Other End Really? The Radical Yeah, I'll let him know, just do what you gotta do. Other End Alright... you too, man. Puff… The Radical Oh, I will... my motivation hasn’t changed. Green stacks of dollar bills is plenty... add a couple W's, I'll be good to go. Other End Nothing is ever enough for men like us. No matter what amount of anything we attain, we want more. It’s the bravado, it’s the essence of against, suits the natural escalation of mental downfall in our line of work. A worried look engulfs Reno’s eyes; he plays it off and stairs at the half glass remaining of Jack Daniels on the table. A small pause breaks the conversation pace followed by a less than natural response. The Radical That was wildly optimistic, but bravado? Nah. A lot has changed. We’re older, wiser, and temptation is a young man’s game, a dull man’s dream, and an idiot’s downfall. If I’ve learned anything at all, don’t take anything for granted to try and get more... that's exactly what Lane just did. Other End What did Ali used to say? The Radical The boxer? Other End Yes, the fucking boxer... Puff… The Radical Couldn’t tell ya, was more of a Frazier guy. Float like a butterfly comes to mind… Other End No, not that one. Oh, um, Rumble, young man, rumble... The Radical Ha, oh yeah… we still rumblin’? He puts the cigar in the ashtray and takes another drink leaning forward to grab it then back again. The angle switches looking up at him through the clear glass and transparent dark brown swishing Jack Daniels in the glass. Other End We gotta be... Nervously swirling his drink in a clockwise wrist rotation. The Radical Keepin’ up with the young men, I suppose… Other End Their day will come, this is ours... mine... The Radical and mine… so their day, I’m kind of stubborn… how will we know when that is? Other End Same way we knew, we will know it’s their time because we’ll be unemployed, just like those in front of us are now, or soon will be... Gabe stops swirling the glass just as the word “unemployed” is pronounced. He pauses and begins swirling it in the opposite counter-clockwise direction. The Radical Old dogs... Other End So you're gonna talk to him? The Radical I am... I have an idea he won't ignore. Gabe hears a click as the other end chaotically hangs up; Reno puts his phone back in his jacket pocket. Checking his watch, he flicks off the television; getting up simultaneously walking out of view. The Radical Oh, shit... I can't believe I'm doing this... >> Vinnie takes a deep whiff of tropical vape in his office humming some song while sitting at a desk with Roxy Cotton in the chair on the other side holding a notepad while quickly jotting notes. The angle pans from the back of the room revealing the pastel green walls and bright orange “XWF” print above the window frame. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane And what time do I have to meet with the recycling company on Wednesday? Roxy puts the pen to her mouth and analyzes. Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) Seven. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane That’s far too early to deal with pandering, damn early rising smug bastar… Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) It’s seven P.M... 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane At night? What in the hell is the matter while those nocturnal lemon coders? Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) Actually, you suggested that time last week when we were at the Hilton brunch with Ghost Tank, you actually called him (recalling notes) ‘an early morning jackass’ for suggesting eighty-thirty in the morning… 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Well isn’t he? A sly smile from the secretary. Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) Anything else, Vinnie? 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane No, go home, get some sleep, apparently the day is stacked for the foreseeable future… I'll be right behind ya... Roxy gets up and pats Vince’s arm in a comforting manner then kisses him on the cheek. Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) It’ll all be worth it. Vinnie smiles admiringly and gestures toward the door as the phone rings; he picks it up and shields the voice receiver for a moment with his left hand. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Thank you, see you in a bit, Roxy. Switching focus to phone. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane This is Vinnie? XWF Secretary Hey Mr.Lane, it’s the front desk, there’s a man named ‘Gabe Reno’ in the lobby to see you, are you available? Vinnie grimaces and puts his other hand to his forehead. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Yeah, go ahead and send him up. Can you also give me a pitcher of unsweetened green tea with two glasses? XWF Secretary Are you sure, last time things got a little too wil... 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane THAT WAS ONE TIME! I'm... I'm sorry, just, please, with two glasses... XWF Secretary Sure thing. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Thank you... Vincent hangs up the phone. A moment of pause with his hands on his temples, looking down at the desk then getting up and grabbing the sports coat off the back of the chair and putting it on. A fast glance in the mirror and 80's hair adjustment. Knock, Knock. He sits and hits a button under the desk. The door opens, slowly The Radical walks in. The Radical How are things, Vin? Vince looks up at him nervously as the front desk secretary walks past him through the still open door and puts the pitcher of tea and two glasses on the desk, then exits; Reno closes the door behind. The Radical So, I’ve gotta ask, where the hell do you get off… 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane You’re not even supposed to be stopping in here, this is a bad idea. Gabe, don’t come into my office and have a tone with me, let me help you, where the hell do I? Where the hell is my gratitude for that bonus that got you that huge mansion you've been using in every fucking promo ever since? Maybe, instead of getting mad at the reaction of pinning you against Chaos, you should tell Chaos to stop demanding better matches. Gabe pulls a hand gun out of the back of his pants and points it at Lane. The Radical Shut up. Do you actually think you aren’t getting over on anybody, we aren't morons, you blonde bimbo, I think you've been using too much of that damn aerosol hairspray and it has seeped into your head. It wasn’t a good time to have that match while we are simultaneously booked in a tag match, BITCH. Don't pretend you didn't do it just to distract from that match, anyway, and try to make sure we stay in your singles division. Vinnie raises his hands in protest but quickly is intimidated back into his chair, his magical teary eyes try to appeal to Gabe. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Gabe, put the gun down, there’s no need for that, I don't need you guys in singles, that's crazy, I was... glad... yeah, delighted even to see you team up, that's why I picked Bourbon and Trax... put it down, Gabe… The Radical There was no need, was, you fast talking democratic drama queen. Watch your mouth, what was it you said at the Savage Card Unveiling, allow me to repeat it, um, ‘XWF is committed to all kinds of ventures, especially keeping our singles division thriving with Radical Chaos’?! You thought that was funny, to risk getting us pissed for a happy audience chuckle. I should shoot you for that, but I’m not going to Vinnie, you know why… I’ll tell you why, because you are going to get us all rich. So, if you are using too much spray, you should stop now and make sure your head stays on real straight forward. You’re going to sit down, stop your fucking bullshit, and complete your side of this so fucking clean that people will not only not want to questions our motives, they’ll want to donate millions when you sneeze, are we clear? 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Reno, you can't barge in here and tell me how to run… Gabe checks the clip and spins the barrel before recalculating his aim. The Radical Yes or no? 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane It isn’t that easy! The Radical The next word out of your mouth is yes or no. He clinches the gun harder as she flinches. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Yes, YES! You fucking lunatic. The Radical Get your shit straight, do not make me come back here. Like you said, not a good idea. Gabe turns to walk away tucking the gun back into his pants and laying his untucked plaid shirt over top. Vinnie gets up and asserts himself. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane What about everyone else, Reno!? Come in here and pull a gun, I should call the police. The camera looks from the opposite side to Gabe’s face squinting as he stops walking but doesn’t turn around. The Radical Lower you voice or I swear to… look, I'm sorry, Vince... but… that was fucking dumb. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Thank you, finally, a little apology... Goddamn, Reno. Walking out, Reno pauses and turns back for a brief moment looking up at the walls, then turns away again. The Radical And get this ugly ass office repainted. The door slams as a picture falls off the wall and breaks leaving Vinnie Lane wide mouthed before a fade to black. <<<<< As dumb as it may be, the match between Chaos and I is happening... the same week we go for tag team chemistry, we tear it down to climb the ladder once again, the same way we got here, rung by rung... all alone. Chris Chaos likes to win, he thinks he will always come out on top. And maybe he will, only time will tell. But someone else does pretty well too, doesn't have a loss, and makes all the other wrestlers blue. This FUCKER right here. Vinnie can book it, Chaos can be ready and revving to go on Saturday Night, but no one has a clue how far 'The Radical' will go to get what is his. When opportunity knocks, I answer. When the best say they can't be beat, I beat them. When the cards get stacked, I fucking cut them. When that bell chimes and we go face to face, toe to toe, in the center of that ring... I will out wrestle you and do whatever I have to Chris... to win. Then on Warfare, we will both do it all over again. Because business is business, teams are teams, we do what we have to in order to achieve our dreams. And inch by inch, as the time ticks closer to each show, we will put on an entertaining event, the likes of which no one has known. Even if after we need medical attention, from the beatings and poundings, to be sewn up stitch by stitch. Whatever it takes, no matter how things recoil... I'll do it, believe it... BITCH. END ------- ------------------- -------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------

[Gator]

RADICAL/RECOIL/XWF#009/EVENT#1 ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------- ------------------- ------- BEGIN Opening to Gabe Reno sitting on an old crusty wood pier dangling his feet off the side. The sun hits his smile, as people walk up and down the pier behind him. Waves crash along the muscle encrusted support beams below. You know, as a kid I loved the ocean. The way the breeze hit my face and the sand warmed my toes... it seemed to be the only place where my family always got along. We would build sand castles and laugh together, help each other set up the canopy, put out blankets, or build a fire in the pit at night. I miss those innocent days as a kid sometimes, but as good as that felt... I've never felt better than I do right now. In a new place like XWF, with the entire future in front of me. A great tag team partner that genuinely cares for his craft and makes the most out of every chance he gets. Even as a match against him approaches at Savage, you have to respect the man and what he represents. Reminds me of... well, me. And what chance do we both get, but to silence all the commotion once again, sure, maybe not forever. But at least for now all the doubters can say well Chaos and Reno have never been much for tag teams, who knows if they are any good, who knows what they can do or if they can work together, who knows if they will get in each others way? This singles match will prove that no matter the winner, no matter the circumstances, we can win together, or a part. I can hear the chatter now... and yes, at times there have been tag teams in the history of our business that just didn't work. Whether because they were Nasty Boyz, or couldn't handle the Heat of Harlem, hell even The Rockers eventually separated when Michaels kicked Jannetty through that plate glass window. Even Mean Gene didn't see that one coming. But see that was all about being greedy, taking all the glory for yourself and not wanting to share the spotlight that victory brings. Who is more talented, who will jump to gold while abandoning the rest, who will get the hottest chick in the back to lick their scrotum the best? Well, that will not be a problem for Chaos and myself, because that chick has already licked mine, and I don't give a fuck who the best is. I only give a fuck about one thing, W's. Win or go home, as the great expression goes. Winning is the thing I care about above all, whether in a tag team, whether on my own, in a gauntlet, in a castle, in a boat, on a river, down by the sea shore, or in the fucking clouds. I don't give two fucks about anyone's opinion, I don't give three fuck's about anyone's feelings, I want to fucking WIN. AND SO DOES CHAOS. Right-Y-OH, BITCHES. That spells some bad shit for people like TRAX AND BOURBON. But just like that feeling I used to get as a kid, with the sunlight peaking through the clouds on that wonderful day in the sand... this feeling will be even better, when the referee at Savage raises my fucking hand. Gabe gets up and starts walking down the pier, the shot settles on the horizon, calm yet beautiful, powerful, and definite... just like his feeling. >>>>> The landscape of a pier above subtle crashing ocean waves comes into view. The day breaks with the sun half fallen beyond the horizon and shadows growing bigger before fading altogether. Dry hallowed out dinging heard as a result of the wind blowing left over bells and lures back and forth, the view panning up the mussel encrusted piling supports to the old rotting wooden railing. No one can be seen on the top deck with the exception of a solo angler; a hooded figure from behind in the distance leaning over side railing before coming back toward view quickly pulling up a fish net. Coiling the rope with two hands, he picks it up and throws it onto the pier behind him, then scavenges the potential’s. The Radical Damn, no sea loot. Low murmuring pessimism follows as the now clearly shown Reno empties an old Campbell’s soup can filled with seashells, grass, and a few chipped mussels then proceeds in untwining a rusty hook from the bottom of the net. Just then, Gabe stops for a moment and pulls a glimmering piece of something out of one of the shells from the soup can. A small smirk finally breaks the mundane dull nature of the man before looking around and tying the net back up then tossing it over again. Reno begins walking down the pier and gets about half way as another man tips his baseball cap at him running up the pier in the opposite direction. Man Hey, thanks. The Radical Don’t mention it… wasn't too chaotic anyway... The man runs up to the net and pulls it up; just then glimpsing down to the ground to notice the empty soup can and a rusty hook lying on the deck. He looks back up for the Reno, but he is now out of the line of sight. Man Son of a bitch! He jogs down to the end of the pier in front of a weathered “Thank You for Visiting the Coronado Ferry Landing” sign. Much like a small child crossing for the first time the man cautiously looks both ways and heads toward an intersection at “B Avenue” passing meters on the right and abandoned slanted parking spaces on the left. Bewildered he spins in a slow circle as the angle from below dizzies with a mixture of tall apartment buildings and downtown in the distance. Finally his eyes settle as the angle rises behind him and the dry squint on his face ends with the unveiling of a parking meter bent nearly to the ground and busted open with a change trail dissipating before turning at the next right street turn. The man’s jaw drops as he slowly backs up before turning in the direction of the pier. Man What in the world… A sudden shrill screech is heard simultaneously with the sound of the focus’s body being tossed from the impact of a dark colored SUV swiftly through the early morning air and into the brick wall of the washroom building at the base of the pier; what remains of him coming to a rolling thrust stop. The car stays in its halted position for a moment; just then a startled old fogy stumbles out of the bathroom on the other side of the wall and drops his paper bag. Leaning down to pick it up he notices the blackened dirty fingers of the recent hit and run reciprocate. He appears socked at the utter chaos. The man guards his eyes from the glare with his left arm, eyes widening with the realization of the scenario setting in at the same time looking directly into the headlights. A brief moment of showdown as the car turns swerving into the night and the homeless man drops to his wobbled knees in horror. >> Beep… beep… the reoccurring monotone machine sound fills the hearing spectrum. Nervous twitches in hand gestures and not being able to stand still in one place consume Gabe Reno who stands in blue jeans and a plaid button up shirt in front of two other people at a local market. Paper towels, toothpaste, floss, and many other generic household items cross the scanner with the only other sound stemming from the juvenile pimple faced customer service gem smacking his gum loudly while cashiering. A woman two lines away appearing to be in her late thirty’s, looks as if she just stepped outside of her house for the sole purpose of going to the supermarket for necessities, smiles at Gabe in line revealing her jagged unkempt mouth; prompting a response from the kid behind the counter. Supermarket Cashier She looks like Amy Winehouse and Gary Busey’s lovechild. A light chuckle from the Reno. Gabe gestures at who looks to be the kid’s manager, an older gentleman with hair pointing in several directions as if he used too much hairspray and a likely orange spray on tan to accompany his grumpy stomping disposition. The Radical Yeah, could be worse at least she doesn’t look like she’s saying corner gospels with a scripture sign that may or may not actually exist. Who would be the mother in a Winehouse-Busey love child scenario? The two share a laugh while the change is handed out and a female employee of the same age range begins bagging the groceries. The Radical Hey, uh… where’s there a good… stopping point, around here? The kid thinks for a second. Supermarket Cashier There’s no good stopping point’s out here. First timer to Davinough? My advice, keep driving. If you absolutely have to stop… maybe the Smoke Inn, rooms are relatively decent. Can’t say the same for the riff raff I’ve seen hanging around it. Sometimes it is complete chaos. No cable, though. The Radical Stay there often? It’s not for me, I have a friend coming to town and my place isn’t really suited…[/b] His face turns red as the cashier grins at the girl while she finishes handing the focus his bags. An old lady the next line over looking disoriented bags some groceries, her nametag bread "JOYCE"; clearly working there but seems confused. Supermarket Cashier I wouldn’t say often, but a few times. A smirk from Reno as he turns to walk out, then taps the old lady on the shoulder. The Radical You work here, darlin'. Gabe exits the store and walks over to put the groceries in the car out in the parking lot, then slams the trunk and gets in. Turning the radio to a few stations... RADIO STATION #1 Today in celebrity entertainment a certain leading man may not be a man at all... [Click]: Rolling his eyes at the nonsense. RADIO STATION #2 "I’m not saying gay marriage shouldn’t be legal, I just don’t think licking makes you gay... no matter how chaotic it may seem..." [Click]: Turning right with a squint then checking his rearview mirror. RADIO STATION #3 “Pandora’s box Lenny, that’s the theory. If people don’t stop spending more than they have, if culture doesn’t somehow spiral back up from this downward trend, people as a whole will stop caring. Trump doesn't control what we spend, that is up to us! It’s not a matter of how much time and energy we spend trying to fight each other or control situations, it’s the realization that we are metaphorically and quite literally eating ourselves… that is what people should be saying. But where are the masses, too distracted to think because or how hard they have to work just to scratch by. You know what, there’s a revolut…” [Click, OFF]: Arriving through a gate into a plush green landscape and swirling driveway in his newly purchased mansion. Parking in a spot labeled “Radical Only” as seen from over the top, he gets out and grabs the groceries. Cutting to a steel appliance monstrosity of a kitchen inside. Panning slowly to the bags sitting on the counter being grabbed one by one and placed into the silver giant refrigerator; Gabe shakes up an energy drink and pops it open. Taking an end of the day type deep sigh he relaxes for a moment before a look at his watch. The Radical Shit… totally forgot... Scampering into another room and clicking a remote from halfway over an armchair. The frantic button punching arrives at a Vinnie Lane giving a speech at some sort of event, a ribbon behind her of white and gold with a sign saying “Saturday Night Savage Card Unveiling”. The Radical I’ll be damned… A buzzing interrupts his intense stare at the television but he snaps out of it and answers while walking to a small bar area and pouring himself a glass of Jack Daniels. The Radical Is that you? The other side is a low murmur but we can pick up a bit. Other End Are you seeing this bullshit, really, a tag match then pin us against each other... The Radical I wouldn’t worry too much; look people are less likely to give a fuck about the tag match, he did this knowing that, to draw attention to us so that one stays low key... it works to our advantage, we can sneak up on the tag division and pounce… Taking a swig of Jack and putting it down on the coffee table in front of him, Friendly cuts then lights a cigar from a box on the side table next to his left hand. Other End He must be getting a real big fucking laugh out of this. The Radical Doesn't matter, we will still win that match, he thinks dividing us will accomplish keeping us separated so that we has two viable singles guys instead of one good tag team... smart, but not smart enough. Puff… Puff… Other End I agree we will win that match, but how are you going to feel after you lose at Savage, we gonna be cool? The Radical You're funny. Other End What? Puff… Puff… Other End Maybe we should go in there and tell him what we think of this idea? The Radical I got it. Other End Really? The Radical Yeah, I'll let him know, just do what you gotta do. Other End Alright... you too, man. Puff… The Radical Oh, I will... my motivation hasn’t changed. Green stacks of dollar bills is plenty... add a couple W's, I'll be good to go. Other End Nothing is ever enough for men like us. No matter what amount of anything we attain, we want more. It’s the bravado, it’s the essence of against, suits the natural escalation of mental downfall in our line of work. A worried look engulfs Reno’s eyes; he plays it off and stairs at the half glass remaining of Jack Daniels on the table. A small pause breaks the conversation pace followed by a less than natural response. The Radical That was wildly optimistic, but bravado? Nah. A lot has changed. We’re older, wiser, and temptation is a young man’s game, a dull man’s dream, and an idiot’s downfall. If I’ve learned anything at all, don’t take anything for granted to try and get more... that's exactly what Lane just did. Other End What did Ali used to say? The Radical The boxer? Other End Yes, the fucking boxer... Puff… The Radical Couldn’t tell ya, was more of a Frazier guy. Float like a butterfly comes to mind… Other End No, not that one. Oh, um, Rumble, young man, rumble... The Radical Ha, oh yeah… we still rumblin’? He puts the cigar in the ashtray and takes another drink leaning forward to grab it then back again. The angle switches looking up at him through the clear glass and transparent dark brown swishing Jack Daniels in the glass. Other End We gotta be... Nervously swirling his drink in a clockwise wrist rotation. The Radical Keepin’ up with the young men, I suppose… Other End Their day will come, this is ours... mine... The Radical and mine… so their day, I’m kind of stubborn… how will we know when that is? Other End Same way we knew, we will know it’s their time because we’ll be unemployed, just like those in front of us are now, or soon will be... Gabe stops swirling the glass just as the word “unemployed” is pronounced. He pauses and begins swirling it in the opposite counter-clockwise direction. The Radical Old dogs... Other End So you're gonna talk to him? The Radical I am... I have an idea he won't ignore. Gabe hears a click as the other end chaotically hangs up; Reno puts his phone back in his jacket pocket. Checking his watch, he flicks off the television; getting up simultaneously walking out of view. The Radical Oh, shit... I can't believe I'm doing this... >> Vinnie takes a deep whiff of tropical vape in his office humming some song while sitting at a desk with Roxy Cotton in the chair on the other side holding a notepad while quickly jotting notes. The angle pans from the back of the room revealing the pastel green walls and bright orange “XWF” print above the window frame. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane And what time do I have to meet with the recycling company on Wednesday? Roxy puts the pen to her mouth and analyzes. Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) Seven. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane That’s far too early to deal with pandering, damn early rising smug bastar… Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) It’s seven P.M... 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane At night? What in the hell is the matter while those nocturnal lemon coders? Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) Actually, you suggested that time last week when we were at the Hilton brunch with Ghost Tank, you actually called him (recalling notes) ‘an early morning jackass’ for suggesting eighty-thirty in the morning… 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Well isn’t he? A sly smile from the secretary. Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) Anything else, Vinnie? 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane No, go home, get some sleep, apparently the day is stacked for the foreseeable future… I'll be right behind ya... Roxy gets up and pats Vince’s arm in a comforting manner then kisses him on the cheek. Roxy Cotton (Fiancé/Assistant) It’ll all be worth it. Vinnie smiles admiringly and gestures toward the door as the phone rings; he picks it up and shields the voice receiver for a moment with his left hand. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Thank you, see you in a bit, Roxy. Switching focus to phone. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane This is Vinnie? XWF Secretary Hey Mr.Lane, it’s the front desk, there’s a man named ‘Gabe Reno’ in the lobby to see you, are you available? Vinnie grimaces and puts his other hand to his forehead. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Yeah, go ahead and send him up. Can you also give me a pitcher of unsweetened green tea with two glasses? XWF Secretary Are you sure, last time things got a little too wil... 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane THAT WAS ONE TIME! I'm... I'm sorry, just, please, with two glasses... XWF Secretary Sure thing. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Thank you... Vincent hangs up the phone. A moment of pause with his hands on his temples, looking down at the desk then getting up and grabbing the sports coat off the back of the chair and putting it on. A fast glance in the mirror and 80's hair adjustment. Knock, Knock. He sits and hits a button under the desk. The door opens, slowly The Radical walks in. The Radical How are things, Vin? Vince looks up at him nervously as the front desk secretary walks past him through the still open door and puts the pitcher of tea and two glasses on the desk, then exits; Reno closes the door behind. The Radical So, I’ve gotta ask, where the hell do you get off… 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane You’re not even supposed to be stopping in here, this is a bad idea. Gabe, don’t come into my office and have a tone with me, let me help you, where the hell do I? Where the hell is my gratitude for that bonus that got you that huge mansion you've been using in every fucking promo ever since? Maybe, instead of getting mad at the reaction of pinning you against Chaos, you should tell Chaos to stop demanding better matches. Gabe pulls a hand gun out of the back of his pants and points it at Lane. The Radical Shut up. Do you actually think you aren’t getting over on anybody, we aren't morons, you blonde bimbo, I think you've been using too much of that damn aerosol hairspray and it has seeped into your head. It wasn’t a good time to have that match while we are simultaneously booked in a tag match, BITCH. Don't pretend you didn't do it just to distract from that match, anyway, and try to make sure we stay in your singles division. Vinnie raises his hands in protest but quickly is intimidated back into his chair, his magical teary eyes try to appeal to Gabe. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Gabe, put the gun down, there’s no need for that, I don't need you guys in singles, that's crazy, I was... glad... yeah, delighted even to see you team up, that's why I picked Bourbon and Trax... put it down, Gabe… The Radical There was no need, was, you fast talking democratic drama queen. Watch your mouth, what was it you said at the Savage Card Unveiling, allow me to repeat it, um, ‘XWF is committed to all kinds of ventures, especially keeping our singles division thriving with Radical Chaos’?! You thought that was funny, to risk getting us pissed for a happy audience chuckle. I should shoot you for that, but I’m not going to Vinnie, you know why… I’ll tell you why, because you are going to get us all rich. So, if you are using too much spray, you should stop now and make sure your head stays on real straight forward. You’re going to sit down, stop your fucking bullshit, and complete your side of this so fucking clean that people will not only not want to questions our motives, they’ll want to donate millions when you sneeze, are we clear? 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Reno, you can't barge in here and tell me how to run… Gabe checks the clip and spins the barrel before recalculating his aim. The Radical Yes or no? 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane It isn’t that easy! The Radical The next word out of your mouth is yes or no. He clinches the gun harder as she flinches. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Yes, YES! You fucking lunatic. The Radical Get your shit straight, do not make me come back here. Like you said, not a good idea. Gabe turns to walk away tucking the gun back into his pants and laying his untucked plaid shirt over top. Vinnie gets up and asserts himself. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane What about everyone else, Reno!? Come in here and pull a gun, I should call the police. The camera looks from the opposite side to Gabe’s face squinting as he stops walking but doesn’t turn around. The Radical Lower you voice or I swear to… look, I'm sorry, Vince... but… that was fucking dumb. 'The Boss' Vinnie Lane Thank you, finally, a little apology... Goddamn, Reno. Walking out, Reno pauses and turns back for a brief moment looking up at the walls, then turns away again. The Radical And get this ugly ass office repainted. The door slams as a picture falls off the wall and breaks leaving Vinnie Lane wide mouthed before a fade to black. <<<<< As dumb as it may be, the match between Chaos and I is happening... the same week we go for tag team chemistry, we tear it down to climb the ladder once again, the same way we got here, rung by rung... all alone. Chris Chaos likes to win, he thinks he will always come out on top. And maybe he will, only time will tell. But someone else does pretty well too, doesn't have a loss, and makes all the other wrestlers blue. This FUCKER right here. Vinnie can book it, Chaos can be ready and revving to go on Saturday Night, but no one has a clue how far 'The Radical' will go to get what is his. When opportunity knocks, I answer. When the best say they can't be beat, I beat them. When the cards get stacked, I fucking cut them. When that bell chimes and we go face to face, toe to toe, in the center of that ring... I will out wrestle you and do whatever I have to Chris... to win. Then on Warfare, we will both do it all over again. Because business is business, teams are teams, we do what we have to in order to achieve our dreams. And inch by inch, as the time ticks closer to each show, we will put on an entertaining event, the likes of which no one has known. Even if after we need medical attention, from the beatings and poundings, to be sewn up stitch by stitch. Whatever it takes, no matter how things recoil... I'll do it, believe it... BITCH. 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