I've been sitting here waiting for Shawn for like five minutes now, maybe even six. In all those minutes of my day I've wasted waiting on this f*****g plane. I swear to God if it's one more minute I'm leaving!

Would I do that?

Yeah.

Actually, I would.

Do I care that he can't help that the flight is late? No. Do I care it's not his fault? No. Do I care that he took time out of his personal life to fly here and meet me face to face? No. Not at all. See, I'm a very busy man. Back at the mansion, I have a rather large staff of people to treat like yesterdays trash. I have a very beautiful, sexy wife waiting to get f****d.

It's the seventh minute. I'm out of here.


"Driver, back to the mansion!"

"Mr. Falcon, your guest is right there."


I look toward where he was pointing and low and behold, there is Shawn Hero walking toward my Charger limo. I open the door as he nears. He climbs in and shuts the door. He stares at me, as if trying to figure something out. He has that same look on his face that he had Wednesday night when he watched me beat the ever living s**t out of his fat, worthless tag team partner.


"Why?"


He speaks. The kid has brains after all.


"Why? Why what? That's a pretty basic question. Why did I attack Bane Williams? Why did I tell you to join in my fun? Why did I tell you to follow me?"

"Yes. Everything. Why?"

"Simple. I wanted to make an impact. What better way to make an impact then to take out that giant slob of a man?

"That fat piece of s**t was going to weigh you down. I mean, more then normal. He needed to be taught a lesson in why not to be a s**tty partner! I wanted you to join in my fun because I needed to see if you had it in you or if you were all talk. I told you to follow me to force you to prove to me that you wanted to learn from the best!"

"Why me? Why choose Shawn Hero?"

"Easy. When you walked that aisle with me after leaving Bane Williams a bloody mess, I knew you wanted to learn. I knew you wanted some direction. I knew you wanted something more than floating around in mediocrity, wrestling guys like Williams and Franny Fresh!

"You wanted to learn what it takes to make an impact and be bigger, badder, and better than all of the rest.

"I wanted to teach that to somebody. You walked the aisle with Sean Falcon and whether it was destiny or not! Whether it was merely circumstantial, you are that man, Shawn Hero. You are the Prodigy!"

"The Prodigy.. The Prodigy.. Has a nice ring to it."

"It's exactly what you are. A young man blessed with exceptional talent with no clue how to bring it all together into one complete package."


I'm 33 years old. It's doubtful I'm going to have a long and storied wrestling career. Shawn Hero, on the other hand, is young. Talented. Smart. He'll be that man I was to become. The biggest badass d**khead assh*le in the industry.

Thank God we're back in Fox Chapel. The smell of Pittsburgh is unmistakable. It's like the smell of wet dog and depression rolled into one. Does that make sense? I don't know, I kind of doubt it.

We pull up through the gates of the mansion and my wife, Sara, is there to greet us as both Shawn and I climb out of the limo. I definitely notice him noticing her.


"Don't get any bright ideas, kid. Look, but if you try to touch, it'll be the last thing you do."

"Yeah, I was just looking.. So what’s our gameplan?"

"We're going to do what rich people always do. Spend money and make more."

"I didn't bring..."

"This is on me. We're going to the casino downtown. Tonight, you live the high life."

"I don’t have enough money for gambling."


Sara and I both laugh.


"What's so funny?"

"Isn't he cute, Sean?"

"Son, when you’re with me, there’s no such thing as not enough money."


The sun is setting in the Steel City. Sara, Shawn and I head into the mansion for now. Later, we'll hit the town.

---

I was always alright. My family was always just alright. We weren’t too rich nor too poor, we were always in a comfortable position. A mansion, is one of the last things I expected to be in.

I had broken apart from Sean and Sara, and had gone upstairs and onto the balcony. It was overwhelming, it all felt like something out of a movie. I was in a mansion with one of the richest guys I know. I was in a house with probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and trying to keep her out of my head was a struggle enough. I had just beaten a guy with brass knuckles..

I chuckled to myself as I stared off the edge of the balcony. The moon was beginning to settle and there was a soothing fog as a light rain began to fall. The fog reminded me of the electronic cigarette substitutes I had purchased a few days ago. I smoked, but not cigarettes. They leave a bad taste that I don’t like at all.

I lit up the fake cigarette and took a puff. It was nothing like the real thing but it would do for now.

How did Sean Falcon know that I liked brass knuckles? Actually, how did he know that I loved them?

I continued to smoke the fake cigarette as my mind went back to that day. It was June 14th, 2009.. and I remember it like it was yesterday.....


There was a party a few blocks from my house and of course I had been invited. I decided to hit the party up with a close friend of mine, Seth. At the party, there were a lot of familiar faces. I saw guys from the football team, cheerleaders that had given themselves up to almost every guy on the team, dancers, and surprisingly a few ex-nerds. Then, there were faces that were too familiar.

This pretty face fools a lot of people. I was actually a pretty dirty guy. Selling drugs, running with a gang, etc. As it turns out, my rival gang was at the party. As you can imagine, glances were exchanged, weapons were taken out, and warfare started. The party quickly went from a room full of dancing, drinking, and having fun to a room that was the site of a showdown between two gangs.

Seth and I hid behind a giant, black couch as members of our gang stormed the room and hid behind furniture, shooting at the North Durham Narc-Killerz, who ran the territory in Northern Durham. I was a member of the Eastside Ghosts. The reasons behind the names were pretty obvious.. The Narc-Killerz killed narcs.. and the Ghosts killed and got away without a trace.

To get into the gang you have to go through initiation, which can range from a murder to letting members of the gang beat you for however long they feel like. I got in through reputation. When you know almost every member of the gang without even being in the gang, you might as well say you’re in the gang. I started saying that I was in the Ghosts, and in a few days, I met the leader, Rascal, and I really was in the Ghosts.

Back to the party, Rascal threw me and Seth a mini-uzi, and we both fired. Seth was a sure-shot, taking out Narc-Killer after Narc-Killer. I, on the other hand, was not, and I missed every bullet I had fired. I thought I was ready for a gang, but I had no clue what I was in for. I had never killed a guy before, but today was that day.

The bullets slowly died out, and guns were dropped. Simultaneously, a large fist-fight broke out between members of both gangs that were still alive. The party guests had all dispersed. Seth and I fought side by side, alongside five members of the Ghosts. Punches and kicks were thrown left and right, with comas and concussions behind them. After a while, there was only me, Seth, and Rascal left. We stood beside each other, worn out but still fighting. Rascal got taken down with a hard right. As he fell, I saw his famous golden tooth fly out of his mouth.

Then, there was only Seth and I. Seth took my hand and placed something in it. He nodded firmly as he charged the last guy of the Narc-Killerz. I studied the object in my hand and noticed that it was a pair of diamond encrusted brass knuckles with my name across them. I looked up at Seth and noticed that the guy he charged was holding a knife. Seth had fallen onto the knife and now a steady trinkle of blood was flowing from his mouth.

Anger flowed up in me, and I charged the guy. I swung a right, shattering the jaw of the guy. He yelled out and fell to the ground. I hopped on top and kept on throwing punches, feeling bones move around as I paused between punches. Seth reached out and touched my arm, finally stopping me from my assault.

Seth: “Stop.. He’s.. dead.”

The words hit me like a sharp sword.

At that moment, Sean Falcon busted through the door with a wide grin on his face, snapping me out of my flash back.


“Ready to hit the city?”


He grinned widely at me and I smirked slightly back. I tossed the cigarette off the balcony and watched it fall slowly to the ground, stories below. I gathered myself and stared into the large mirror on the wall, studying the way I looked in one of Falcon’s all-black suits with a dark purple tie. I nodded my head in satisfaction and turned to Falcon.

“Ready.”

---

As my entrance song asks, 'can you remember, remember my name'? Maybe not now, but you will. In time, you will all know just who exactly Sean Falcon really is. I am greatness. I am excellence. I am just better than you. With my help, Shawn Hero will be, too. Like it. Love it. Hate it. It just doesn't matter. What does matter though, is that it is the truth.

We are elite.

So elite, that at the Rivers Casino here in Pittsburgh, we get the VIP treatment each and every time I walk through their doors. Waited on hand and foot, not having to pay for one damn drink or one plate of food.

I steer my 1967 Mustang Fastback - just one of many classic muscle cars in my collection - from Reedsdale Street to Casino Drive and pull up to the valet. I give the kid the keys and a handsome tip. For some reason, I've always taken a liking to this kid. That's saying a lot because I just don't like many people.

He's a muscle car lover just like I am. I know the thrill he gets each and every time he fires an engine from a powerful rocket on wheels. I know he busts his ass working his way through college. An admirable quality, no doubt. Its not what I had to do, but this is Pittsburgh. Busting your ass and making your way to the top is the cornerstone of this proud city.

Poor, simple fools.

He pulls away to park the car and I smile as Shawn and I walk the casino floor and watch the destitute and the downtrodden spinning away on the slot machines trying to make a quick buck.

Slot machine are for morons.

Table games. Blackjack, Texas Hold 'Em, Omaha Poker, that's where the money is at. That's where you make a killing. I could do this professionally. As you already know, I already have money, so making more and more is not of particular interest to me. Although, I do love it. It's the thrill of the win. The thrill I get when I hit Blackjack. The thrill I get when I'm dealt two 10's and split, then hit Blackjack on both hands.

The house always wins, right? Nah, not on Planet Falcon. On Planet Falcon, Falcon always wins. No one and nothing beats Sean Falcon.

Not now.

Not ever.