The scene opens by the River Shannon, in Limerick, Ireland. It's a mild, sort of cloudy day in Limerick, just like every other. The wet air flows through your nostrils, the left over condensation from the morning rain crawling through your nose, overtaking your sinuses. The river sloshes and slides peacefully along the current, the laughter of children and the scolding of tired parents in the background. It's a sleepy Tuesday evening, and most Irishmen and women have packed it in for the night. The river, a refuge of relaxation, sits quietly flowing through the city, awaiting weekend patrons, or unemployed patrons, or just patrons with the freaking day off.

But it's quiet right now. Everyone is concerned with taking care of the mindless jobs that pay the bills, or the tedious tasks that keep their houses operating, or the endless responsibilities that keep children alive. No one has time to sit by the river. No one has time to enjoy life for the finite existence that it is.

Stress. Pressure. Pain.

Except for one man, laying along the edge of water and dirt. A man with zero worries, zero commitments. A man who had let it all go... for freedom.

A man who had lost it all... willingly.

Tony Santos stares up to the camera, its lens beaming down on Tony from above. His second chin hugs his first chin lovingly, the gap in his front teeth gripping his tongue. The black holes in Tony's eyes look back at the camera lens, and... they match. The lens of the camera look identical to the lens in Tony's pupils. The stubble on Tony's chin rises in the humid air. Tony is as free as the flowing stream beside him, but his soul is as heavy as a rock.

Tony has the freedom of a bird... tied down by the weight of a boulder.

Tony Santos glares.

Santos: You came back.

Tony stares into the camera, his face still, his lips flat.

Santos: You came back for more, didn't you? I'd appreciate that, I really, really would. I'd appreciate that if you were serious. I'd appreciate that if you meant something. I'd appreciate that...

...if you respected yourself.

Tony rolls to his right, his arm submerged in the water. He cranks his left arm over his body, gently laying his hand into the water. His fingers ride the gentle waves, the tattooed "T O N Y," individual letters sitting on his index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and pinky, float amongst the current. This is as relaxed as Tony has been since he rejoined the XWF, let alone after winning the Hart championship. He was free from alcohol, and the... endeavors, his substance abuse brought with him. He was free from his fellow wrestlers, and the insults they hurled. But most importantly...

...he felt free from himself. See, he'd used alcohol as a crutch for so long, a way to cure the short term ailments his body felt, that he didn't realize how good he felt when he'd cut it out entirely. He could see without the haze a few pints left over his eyes, and he could feel in ways that didn't...

Santos: Fucking hurt.

No more pangs in his kidneys, or his spleen, or, most importantly, his liver. No more extended gut, feeling like it was filled with gasoline. No more itchy skin, or invisible insects crawling over his body.

Just... freedom. Freedom to say exactly what he feels. Freedom to let loose. Freedom to care more... and less.

The camera flips over to Tony's side to capture his face.

Santos: See, my dear Scully, nothing has changed since we started this. You can list off your resume until the end of time... even though, let's be honest, it'd last a solid couple of minutes, and it wouldn't change the fact that you don't take yourself seriously, let alone your competitors. You carry yourself around like the glorified circus act that you are.

Don't even pretend to give two shits about your heritage, when you spend your entire time in front of a camera defacing your family's name. You walk in, week in and week out, walking around with your "Flock of Tards," and your family is supposed to be proud to see that? At least I told my family to fuck off ages ago... you decided to string them along as you ruin the family name. You dance around like a fucking monkey, talking down to the only group of people you know you're superior to, as your family watches in horror. They don't even have to see you in a ring to turn crimson red, you take care of it just by being you!

But you don't stop at "okay," do you, Scully? You're an overachiever, aren't you? You can't let your proud Irish family be disappointed in your entire past existence, can you? You just have to prove it to them, week in and week out. In singles competition and tag team competition. You step into that ring, and you fall apart, like a kid playing American football for the required amount of plays at offensive line, getting destroyed by the defensive tackle five times, and being pulled by the coach, knowing he'll never, thank god, have to play him for the rest of the game.

You're overmatched, each and every time, aren't you Scully? You're overmatched right now, aren't you Scully?

You're right, the odds are against you, because I'm against you. You beat Gilly?

I handled him with ease.

You beat Unknown Soldier?

He's picking at the scraps in his sad return.

You beat Vinnie?

I watch that clown trip over himself week after week, managing this company into the ground.

See, Scully, you know incompetence, mediocrity. You've had the slightest taste of victory, and watched it get ripped from your pasty little hands. You don't know struggle, you only know cheap insults. You talk about "tards," because you're fucking weak inside. You joke about not "sucking me off," because you're fragile.

Scully, I hope you're comfortable. I hope you're with your family, reminiscing about the "good ol' days." I hope you're basking in your undeserved glow, taking in your own mediocrity. Just... appreciating the insignificant man you've become.

Because on Wednesday...

...fuck it, you're going to have a "change of Hart?"

No

I'm going to simply, and utterly, destroy you.

Play me out.



The scene fades to black.

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