A red glow… At the end of a long tan cylinder…

Burning, billowing smoke at the end of a cigarette.

The rush of air hurtling past the open window at 70 miles an hour.

Mark Flynn.

Smoking.

Driving.

Right hand firmly planted on the steering wheel. Left hand on the smoke, leveraging against his face.

Trying to get every ounce of tar he can.

Directly to the bottom of his lungs.

Inhale.

Flynn holds his breath, savoring the flavor, trying to calm his nerves...

Flynn pauses.

Then turns to the open window.

Exhale smoke.

"Hey Luca. I have this joke for you."

Flynn keeps his eyes on the road, not bothering to eye the camera sitting in his passenger seat, peering up at his face...

"I'm sorry if I seem… out of sorts."

"I think I was just over at Frodo Smackins' house."

"And…That was either ten minutes ago."

"Or... Maybe a couple weeks? I have to admit, it might be harder to keep track nowadays…"

“And I can’t help but think the clock in the dashboard is lying to me…”

Flynn takes another drag of his cigarette, then pulls the smoke out of his mouth. He sticks his elbow out the window...

"You know what pisses me off, Luca?”

Flynn glances at the camera.

"And it's not you, believe it or not. That wasn’t me launching into an adorable rant. I'm not trying to rail, diatribe and cliché my way through a bullshit angry, tongue lashing promo against you."

Flynn's eyes switch back to the road.

"We're men, you and I. Not the best men."

Flynn grins as he ponders this.

"In fact, we're quite the pair of shifty characters."

"But, I don't have a reason to 'tear your ligaments', ‘snap your bones' or 'rend your muscles of your arms so they hang limp at your sides for the rest of your life,’ I don’t need any of the usual cards I pull out of the deck.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m thinking those things genuinely and the voices in my head are non-stop encouraging me to do those things to every living human being I’ve come across.”

“But you’re not a Peter Gilmour or an Eli James IV, and I hope you take that as a compliment.”

“Thinking about the simple fact that you exist doesn’t drive me further off the deep end, doesn’t bring about an itch at the end of my nose to inspire my ire to try and literally tear your arms off and beat you to death with them.”

“If anything, I’m glad you exist. I’m thrilled there’s a person around here I can trust to team up with that I can also trust to attack me just a week after the fact.”

“I’m overjoyed that instead of setting up a secret plan, instead of smiling to my face, leaving a voicemail, declaring my genius, then assaulting me and declaring me an over-the-hill nothing… Although if you ended up doing that, you’d be in good company.”

"There's one who has the honor to in the same sentence, recognize that he has no issue with me. And then call out my means of defeat and torture. Like he’s calling out what pocket he’s going to bury the 8-ball in.”

“Plastic Bag. Rear Naked Choke.”

Flynn inhales deep as the smile fades from his face…

“I’m relieved there’s another person around who (at least ‘kinda, sorta’) wants to engulf the world in flame and giggle, bleeding to death in a quiet corner, as the fires swallow the people like us up as well.”

“Who sees the world as I see it.”

“Non-discriminating. An equal opportunity misanthropy.”

Flynn itches his head a moment, using his elbow to keep the car steady…

“You of all people, as a believer in chaos.”

“Deserve an actual glimpse as to what the world looks like through my unique vision.”

“A few words to introduce you to the blackness I’m trying to submerge every adversary I face into.”

“And why the Hell on Earth, the death and destruction I’m trying to bring about, as not an alien, or an angel, or a weird Southern preacher… But as just an individual, mortal man…”

“Is both achievable…”

“And deserved…”

Flynn’s hand returns to the wheel.

“To begin again…”

“You know what pisses me off, Luca?”

“You know what my biggest motivation is right now?”

“Sid Feder.”

Flynn closes his eyes and wrenches his left arm back in the car, taking a quick drag, then shoving his left arm back outside the window…

“His every word, his every syllable, his very being inspiring me, submerging me in a hate I never even thought possible…”

“I don’t know if you’ve eyed his latest video.”

“But, recently… He listed a…semi-open challenge…”

“For any XWF employee to take him on… Who was a ‘real wrestler.’”

“…”

“A REAL wrestler…”

“If you were as curious as to what the definition of a real wrestler was as I was… I’d be happy to paraphrase his mission statement…”

“Mr. Feder chooses to define ‘real wrestler’ as not an alien.”

“Fair.”

“Not a weird demon monster.”

“Of course.”

“And not a lunatic.”

“Not one of us ‘crazies’…”

“…”

“Never.”

“Never have I felt so discriminated against in all my life.”

“And more importantly. Never have I had to deal with a more contradictory logical puzzle, more of a true Catch-22 then the idea that to be a true XWF wrestler, you have to be sane...”

“…”

“Are you with me, Luca? Do you see what I see?”

“I’ve been called crazy, Luca. I’ve been called ‘mentally unfit,’ by the XWF. The Board of Directors, the General Managers, my fellow superstars, that asshole Steve Sayors…”

“Every one, despite the occasional differences in ideology, motivation and conviction, seems capable of reaching the same conclusion.”

“That Mark Flynn is both legally insane… And medically crazy…”

“…”

“Here’s the real riddle though.”

“How in the Hell could I be sane…”

“If I wasn’t crazy?”

“Who in this company that can manage to maintain their mental fitness…”

“Ever had an ounce of mental fitness in the first place?”

“Do you think I came here crazy, Luca?”

“I came here as an intellectual savior. I came here with the goal of expanding minds, of improving the world…”

“Then… things went sour…”

“I broke a Second Generation wrestler clown’s arm and ended his father’s legacy in disgrace.”

“I had to fight a serial killer two weeks straight a month into this company and then was chokeslammed through a flaming table by him after he had been fired...”

“I was pushed into a bay in Singapore. AND THEN WAS LEFT IN THAT BAY IN SINGAPORE.”

“I’ve fought an inter-dimensional alien being, a special guest star on ‘Two and a Half Men’, a character from the video game Punch-Out, and whatever the Hell Peter Gilmour is.”

“Three times each.”

“Tommy Wish is a goddamned Time Lord, Immortal Shapeshifter, or a Michael Jackson-esque vampire, rapidly aging and whitening… His main motivation in life seemingly taking XWF employee’s mortal human daughters as his coven of wives and impregnating them with his zombie pop-star spawnlings…”

“And Flynn is the crazy one for wanting to acknowledge it.”

“Flynn is the one whose behavior needs to be discouraged…”

“For not being able to ignore the insane shit and it shaking me to my very core.”

“…”

“Does this sound like an ideal work environment, Luca? Does this job sound like it’s worth the paycheck? Does this sound like a career with fucking GROWTH POTENTIAL?”

“…Do you know who the real crazies are around these parts, Luca?”

“The people who aren’t like you and me.”

“The people playing the game with their head down and smiles on their faces.”

“The people trying to climb the corporate ladder, whistling whilst they work, as the people around them bleed to death and scream for help.”

“The people who open their mouth as the Gods of this realm rain blood down on their faces…”

“And lap their lips praying for more…”

“The people who stumble onto this goddamned riot, cars getting turned over, rivers of blood running down the street.”

“And just decide to join in the fun. To try and assimilate seamlessly into the system, making an effort to figure out ways to point and smile so the crowd who paid admission to watch the inhumanity and collapse of civilization cheer for them.”

“Instead of taking the nearest brick in their hand.”

“And cracking in ringleader skulls, smashing them into ‘XWF champion’ nose cartilage until people start calming the fuck down.”

“Then, there’s us. People who come into a world like this.”

“And decide the only recourse is to ignore what the crowd’s cheering for… To destroy the trophies the champions of this world hold so dearly…”

“And then burn the whole fucking thing to the ground.”

Flynn… Tosses his cigarette out the window…

And rolls it up…

The vacuum of air closing… And thunking shut.

“You get it, right, Luca?”

“You have to get it.”

“You have to understand why my heart’s not in this one…”

“Because my motivation never changed from the moment I came here…”

“I never stopped wanting to save the world…”

“I just figured that the only thing it needed saving from was its own inhabitants…”

“I’m not breaking arms, destroying careers, ending lives…”

“Just because it’s fun. Just because the sweet relief of breaking an ulna until someone’s forearm bends at an actual ninety degree angle is the only thing that can quiet the voices in my head…”

“I’m doing these things… Because it’s a moral imperative.”

“It’s a civic duty.”

“And what do I gain from shattering the arm of a fellow soldier in battle?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“You might be the only person I can talk to like this, Luca…”

“Why would I crush in the skull of a man preaching the very thing I believe deep within my own heart?”

“…”

Flynn retracts his arm to his skull, rubbing his temple… Trying to relieve the pain in his head…

“…”

“Because I have to.”

“That’s why, Luca.”

“You need to understand that. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help you connect those ideas…”

“I’m doing this because I want you to see what I see.”

“Because on some level, I know you see what I see.”

“That we’re brothers.”

“I don’t want to impersonalize our bond with a weapon.”

“I wouldn’t dream of not trying to break your arm, to tear your shoulder ligaments until your arm goes limp and then twist, hacking both directions back and forth until you pass out from the pain…”

“How could I even consider giving you special treatment…?”

“I’m ending you, the same as anyone else…”

“Because to do otherwise…”

“Would be insane.”

“To show favoritism…”

“Would demonstrate a desire to play within the playground.”

“When all I’m trying to do.”

“Is bury the fucking thing in a cement cube…”

“And entomb all the children that chose to play there…”

Flynn’s rubbing… slows…

Then ceases.

His hand slowly extends…

And rejoins its partner at the wheel.

“I’m hoping on some level that you succeed, Luca.”

“That you slip that plastic bag over my neck. Submerging my face in white. The plastic lining first rushing back and forth… Then slowly… Less in magnitude… Then nothing.”

“I’m praying that you choke me unconscious. And we can just go back to being teammates. Long Live the High Society.”

“Or to death.”

“Either’s fine. Wouldn’t want to influence whatever artistic decisions you’ve probably already made…”

“…”

“But, on a different level.”

“Or…Maybe, on exactly the same level…”

“With exactly the same two synapses I have to rub together sub-consciously to create the hope that you’ll kill me…”

“I hope I kill you.”

“I hope my hand slips.”

“I hope you wriggle and writhe in my grip and I break a vein with a careless twist. EMTs surround you as you start helplessly foaming… bleeding from the mouth…”

“So that as you fade… slip out of consciousness…”

The camera beeps, fizzing, a 2% battery remaining warning, now filling the screen…

“Your last words… The last errant thoughts buzzing around your shutting-down failing mind…”

“Aren’t of Eli James’ mission, doomed to embarrassing failure.”

“Or Sid Feder’s limiting definition of who here is a ‘real wrestler’.”

“Or even the rest of the original 110 pounds of pure Colombian cocaine I left with you and Theo.”

“I want your last words. The last sounds escaping from your tongue…”

“To be a laugh. Gleeful The surge of blood to your mouth only increasing as your sense of humor literally kills you.”

“As you laugh yourself to death…”

The screen cuts to black, the only thing left on the screen a purple box saying ‘Camera shutting down…’

“I want you to understand the world as I see it, Luca.”

“I want you…”

“To get the joke.”

The feed ends.