Mark Flynn.

Sitting at a bare dinner table, elbow on the edge, head resting in his hand. A single chandelier, slowly swinging, rests overhead, providing a dim light over the scene… Flynn’s fingers… Rubbing circles into his temple, eyes closed, shaking his head.

Disappointed.

In a flash, his eyes open. Then slowly close. Weary. Ashamed.

“Wow, Massy.”

“I have to say, this week, we’ve sure said a lot to each other. And I’d be lying if I said you hadn’t started to win over my affection a little bit.”

Flynn raises his opposite hand and compresses his index and thumb within micrometers of each other.

“Just the smallest touch.”

“I’ve come, over the course of our exchanges, to see in you a younger… much less talented… much less intelligent, me.”

“Me, if when I was born, my umbilical cord had wrapped around my throat and given me lifelong brain damage.”

“An unoriginal carbon copy, except when making the copy, the cloning technician present for the copying process accidentally dropped a glob of nacho cheese into the DNA sequencer.”

“Like me, except terrible at everything.”

Flynn stares into the camera a moment… Eyes narrowing… Focusing…

“Still, I’ve come to look at you like a father might his mentally-challenged son. Hoping you improve as little as someone like you can. Hoping that perhaps through my careful guidance and mentoring, you might one day stumble into the realm of lower mediocrity.”

“So, as you steadily, slowly, improved the content and direction of your work this week into a moderately intelligible range, I tried my best to hold in my pride, to contain my joy that my idiot child had finally learned how to speak.”

“Then, you dropped that last promo."

"..."

"You dropped… that… abombination…”

“…”

Flynn’s hands both cover his face, rubbing up and down on his forehead… They meet at his ears, as he stares into the wood of the table.

“The experience, Massy. The pain in my gut… The mixture of sorrow and disgust… It was like after teaching my special needs son to speak, watching him go up at a spelling bee, botch his first word immediately… And then take off his pants and shit on the stage in front of a horrified audience…”

“…”

“And then, after doing that, beaming.”

Flynn’s hands open as his eyes burn with rage…

“Just… BEAMING with pride.”

“Looking for my face in the crowd as if I’m supposed to deliver a thumbs-up and be proud of him… For fucking up as hard as conceivably possible.”

Flynn’s rage… subsides, as he sighs deeply.

“Let’s travel through this one step-by-step, shall we? Let’s parse through this abortion of a promo and really try to piece together everything you did wrong.”

“First error, playing directly into my hand.”

“Sorry, Massy. But remember how I started out this week? I made a little prediction about what methodology you were going to employ getting into this fight?”

“If memory serves, I said…”

Quote:"You see, Mastermind, we seem to be playing two different games, for the same prize."

"The goal of your game seems to be twisting any emotional response I have, or lack thereof, into proof that you are controlling my mind, whatever the hell that means."

Flynn scratches his temple.

“Of course, being THE Mastermind of the XWF, I’m sure the second I delivered that prediction, you took a cautious notice of it. And from here, you preceded to take that prediction as AN INSTRUCTION AND MISSION STATEMENT FOR THE REST OF YOUR WORK THIS WEEK.”

Quote:STUDY #3: FOOLING MARK FLYNN

How do you fool a fool? That was the question heading into my showdown with Mark Flynn for the extreme belt. How do you fool someone who tends to throw words right back at you using different techniques? This is how you do it:

STEP 1: Laud him with accolades about how well he's done in past championship reigns, only for him thinking that you are disrespecting him.

”Really, Massy? That was part of your plan? You assumed all along that I would hear my past accomplishments and get insulted by them? You predicted that calling my reign impressive would drive me into a wrathful fury for the rest of the week?”

“Here’s a hint, Massy. A thing I’ve made clear multiple times… That you just don’t seem to understand… I didn’t start feeling disrespected with your first promo. I didn’t start being furious this week.”

“I was furious a month and a half ago. When I was carefully crafting designs… plans to hang onto my X-Treme championship belt for 84 consecutive days. To collect two 24/7 X-Treme briefcases”

“I was disrespected when a giant clumsy buffoon kept knocking on my door and asking if he could take it from me.”

“I don’t care if you admire the fact that I’ve held onto this belt for 39 consecutive days.”

“The fact that you’re trying to take it from me? 45 days early? Is the most disrespectful thing anyone could do. Makes me more furious than any ‘word’, any ‘phrase’, any ‘insult possibly could…”

“And I’m going to rip out the cartilage in your shoulders... As punishment for your insolence.”

Quote:STEP 2: Watch him get angry after using the word 'Salvo' in your opening promo to him, and use it against him there after, only for him to constantly contradict himself. And then when you've stopped saying he's angry, after letting him think that you've stopped talking about it, he brings it up that you've stopped when really you haven't.

”How the Hell can this be a step in your plan when the direction and intent of this step flips FIVE DIFFERENT TIMES? Say ‘salvo’, then when he gets mad about it, stop saying ‘Salvo’, then when he notices you stopped saying ‘salvo’ REVEAL YOUR BIG TRUMP CARD: YOU NEVER STOPPED SAYING SALVO AT ALL!!!!! WHAT A TWIST!!!!”

Flynn twists towards the camera in his chair, lifting his arms from the table to point directly into the lens.

”’Salvo’ wasn’t the target of my rage. It was my jumping off point. It was the thing about you I could hone in and destroy. I don’t want to eliminate the word ‘salvo’ from the English language. I want to eliminate my competition. I want to eliminate YOU. I hate YOU.”

“After all, YOU’RE the fucking idiot acting like ‘salvo’ is my ONE, TRUE WEAKNESS, that if you keep saying it, maybe it will serve as a shield against my weapons of FUCKING LOGIC AND REASON. I brought ‘salvo’ to your attention because it made clear that the guy running around calling himself FUCKING MASTERMIND 1. Can’t think of an original concept since Cain FIVE DAYS BEFORE YOU dropped the word ‘salvo’… AND HE HAD THE DECENCY TO ACTUALLY VERBALLY ATTACK HIS OPPONENT. AND 2… Doesn’t know how to attack anyone…”

“Seriously, Massy. This was your first real attempt at firing on me logically.”

“And you spent the first half of it proving that you’re a panicking idiot. And you spent the second half of it listing your embarrassing losses and your meaningless wins... I mean...”

Flynn opens his mouth… Then pauses.

”On second thought, we’ll save that nugget of gold for later… Let’s stay on topic for right now… Back to the clip.”

Quote:STEP 3: Whistle so much at the end of your promos that he picks up on it, and then fool him into thinking that you change to humming only for him to suggest he made you change it, when after all that it was actually you lulling him into actually thinking he was the one beyond the move.

“Massy… For a second, I really wanted to believe you had actually done something in advance… It would have indicated an iota of respect if you had actually managed to game me.”

“IF.”

“But, you didn’t.”

You didn’t just pick up whistling at the end of your promos to mess with me. You’re just too unintelligent to actually have a dramatic close to anything you say. And whistling is a go-to when you’ve finished saying another big batch of nothing.”

“For example.”

“Here’s the end of the first promo of yours against Zoey Ryback last week. The match you lost.”

Quote:Mastermind swung his chair around to face the wall, and started whistling.

“Here’s the end of a promo last month for your triple threat match. A match you won again two people that don’t matter and have disappeared into thin air.”

Quote:Mastermind turned his chair back around to face the wall, and starts whistling.

”Sorry, Massy. Whistling and spinning in your cute little rolling chair isn’t a new hobby for you and when I called you on it, you tried to slip a change by... You got caught doing something stupid, twice in a row. And now, you’re trying to spin being mentally beaten into a psychological victory. Like I said you would at the start of the week. I knew what you'd do."

"Because I'm better than you. Because I'm smarter than you. And because every other week I've ever wrestled in this fucking company I've had to take on another rookie that think he's a fucking beautiful and unique snowflake. When he's the exact same trash I rolled out to the curb last week.

"I know your every fucking move. I knew them when you dropped that challenge three weeks ago. Of course, again, maybe this is all part of some elaborate scheme to trick me into thinking you’re an idiot.”

“You know, LIKE I ALSO PREDICTED AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS WEEK.”

Quote:“Unless, you’re testing me again? Unless, like you claiming that you were only pretending to not know how a cage match works, this is some convoluted scheme of yours, to only pretend you wanted me to be angry when you knew all along I wasn't, another part of your illogical master plan to become X-Treme Champion before 2025... Just Adorable. Like a child on a playground. Clueless and desperate to seem in control. Changing the rules as you go along, only to see how ineffective your 'Mind Control' methods are... Small and insignificant.”

”There’s no way you’d be stupid enough into playing that card again, right Massy? I beat you to the punch. I made it clear that I wasn’t half-assing this week just because I’m taking on a mental seven-year old. THERE’S NO CONCEIVABLE WAY YOU’D PRETEND THIS WAS A PART OF A SINISTER PLOT T-!”

Quote:STEP 4: Fool him into thinking that your current losses were not needing to be talked about, only for him to say that it's your weakness, and that you're weak, but you are yet to talk about those loses.

“…”

Quote:STEP 5: Fool him into thinking how incompetent you are when after all is said and done, he's not knowing that he's being played like a fiddle. That all the persuasion that you are doing, comes from him persuading himself that he has done all the persuasion to turn things around on you. Confused yet?

”…No, Massy. No, I’m not.”

“It’s honestly not that confusing seeing someone experience a mental breakdown. I’ve made it happen before. Many times. Our X-Treme Title match isn’t for another 24 hours. And it looks like I won the damn thing last night when you dropped this thinking it made a FUCKING IOTA OF SENSE.”

“And honestly, it’s hard to believe you’re faking incompetence WHEN YOU’RE SO INCREDIBLY TALENTED AT PLAYING THE ROLE.”

“Jesus, what a method actor. Did you drink paint to get this incompetent? Have you been preparing for this role for a long time, watching reality television and eating Petey Gilmour's Bottles of Glue? Did your acting coach mother drop you on your head as an infant so you could really capture the RIGHT FUCKING MOOD OF BEING A MENTAL GIMP?!?”

Quote: "Mr Flynn you are one stroppy bugger. You think you have this won when I've been pulling the strings all week I've been lulling you into a false sense of security and you don't even know it."

“…To re-iterate the whole theme I've been trying to establish this week:"

"Yes, I did. I know what you're doing."

"That's why it hasn't worked. Because I'm not sporting a one-digit IQ."

"It’s the reason my response to you listing my accomplishments instead of becoming comfortable and relaxed was becoming enraged. Because I’m the god-damned equivalent of a chess GrandMaster at this ‘Pre-Match Psychology’ bullshit and my opponent expects me to marvel in awe and wonder as he moves a pawn forward two spaces.”

“Sorry, this is the fifth promo I’ve dropped against you. I’ve come back with new material every time, I’m squashing your bullshit escape attempts as you slowly run out of oxygen.”

“Does it seem like I’m half-assing it? Does it seem like I’m getting comfortable, letting you sneak anything by me?”

“I’m not setting out to just win this match on Wednesday. I’m setting out to embarrass you. I'm setting out to crush you.”

“I’m setting out to snap you in half. To break your arms off and beat your skull in with them until your fucking head is concave.”

"To send a message to every fucking piece of shit rookie like you out there.The Bobby Zis? The Zoey Rybacks? I’m making it as clear as I fucking can.”

“Just because I’m the champion that has to defend his belt 24/7? That doesn’t mean I’m the champion you go for when you want to make a statement. I’m the champion that will end your fucking career if you don't come at me ready.”

“There were six new champions crowned at Leap of Faith last month, Massy. Azrael Erebus, Tony Santos, Guppy Parsh, Petey & Dim… And me.”

"I don't think anyone would've have bet on the guy who had to defend his belt in every match he was ever scheduled in to hang onto it longer than his fellow champs."

"And yet, look at how history played out."

“Az lost his. Tony lost his. Petey & Dim have hidden there’s in a fucking closet somewhere so they never have to defend them. And no one gives a shit about the RTX Title.”

“I’m the last champ fucking standing, Massy.”

“And if you think for a god-damned second that there’s a chance I’m losing this belt to you? That there's even the smallest opening I'm going to leave for you to make it out of that cage?”

“Then, me ending your career tomorrow? Me breaking your neck in as many places as I see fit?”

“It isn’t murder.”

“It’s euthanasia… It’s a latest-term-possible abortion…”

“Taking something suffering under delusion, under desperation… failing to breathe… Never truly take life…”

“And crushing it…”

“I’m doing this out of mercy, Massy…"

"You're welcome."

Flynn… smiles…

Purses his lips together…

And begins to whistle…

To be continued…