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JACK · (04-30-2015)

The camera picks up footage of the bandaged man reading the latest People magazine. The camcorder is in a position where we can clearly see the name of the magazine along with the mummified man himself. He doesn't seem to be affected at all with the news he's reading. Some of it might be viewed as touching, cute, or whatever, but the issue he's reading through is mostly about celebrities and how a man named Bruce Jenner likes to shop around in high heels.The mummy shakes his head as he sets down the magazine, dissatisfied about how news like that differs from the lives that people live through each and every day. He stares at the floor for a little while before he even addresses the viewer with a simple sentence.

"Does being a celebrity really make you more important than everyone else? A lot of journalists, critics, and other celebrities seem to think so, and Mister Lane is no exception to that belief. Ever since people have performed songs that they might or might not have made, put on an act on the silver screen, or performed acts of heroism that caught the eye of the press, people have been lifted at a higher ground than everyone else. It's been going on ever since alphas were being picked out of a pack, after all."

He picks up another magazine and looks at the cover. He stares at it for a little bit, looking at the news teasers for the content inside, before flipping it open. The camera picks up the name of the magazine, US Weekly, and how the top news this time is Revenge getting cancelled after four whole seasons.

"Of course, behind the photographs, expensive products under their name, talk show interviews, what have you, they are people, just like us. Sure they may have more money, products that we might wish we had, and the seemingly gorgeous lovers that we'll more than never likely get, but behind that mask, some of them absolutely hate being a celebrity. They hate having to keep up a good image for themselves so their reception doesn't falter, they hate the constant and annoying paparazzi that ask questions and questions about bullshit that might or might not be true, and as a result, they either drop off the face of the Earth or leave the acting business all together."

He sets down the magazine.

"Now what might happen to those that couldn't handle the pressure the spotlight and decided to hide from the world? Maybe they could take up politics like Shirley Temple and Ben Stein. Maybe they could raise a family like Dave Chapelle and Rick Moranis. Knowing those two, they're still keeping them alive longer than I have. How much I envy them..."

He pauses for a little bit as he has a flashback to his past once again. He seems to be shaking a little as the memories once again flood his mind. He shakes his head as he comes back to reality, this time picking up an Inquirer magazine.

"But perhaps some of them decide to go on a spiritual journey, just to find out which belief they can stick with when they're eventually found on their deathbed. Whether they were right or wrong is not for us to decide. What we can decide is if we agree with the moral route they have chosen. With that said and done, do me a favor and answer me one question; would anyone stick with Kyril's stances on religion?"

Beat.

"Okay, now answer me one more question; if you didn't know who Kyril was and if you never watched the XWF to begin with, would you still stick with his views?"

Another beat. Jack chuckles to himself as he turns a page on the magazine he's reading.

"I'm willing to bet that everyone except Kyril himself and however many of his die-hard fans lowered their hands just now. I wonder why that would be. I mean, he is one of the more recognizable faces outside of the XWF, why is it that people don't want to emulate him away from wrestling? For starters, not everyone wants to rely on a drug to get ahead in life, not everyone willingly goes out of their way to avoid church, and when people do, they don't burn churches down because their belief is wrong."

He sets down yet another magazine. We can assume that the magazines he's skimmed through are piling up by now.

"As a supposed God, you're not really showcasing your omnipotence as well as you say you are. You like to yell out that you reign victorious for all of eternity, yet a quick look back at the archives will easily prove you wrong. You've lost to men like Eli James, who had no special powers, no omnipotence, immortality, or superhuman strength. All he had was a legion of followers that were willing to die for his cause at any moment when he gave the order. You claim to have every ability that any and every God has in every religion, and yet you lost to a cult leader."

There's a brief pause. Jack doesn't use this time to pick up a magazine. He instead reaches into the bandages on his left hand and scratches, possibly to itch his burned skin.

"You're just as good of an actor as Cain was, even when you speak for yourself. It's amazing that even after the charade has been disproved, even after the most average man can throw another man claiming to be a God for a loop, he still believes that he always wins. Not only has the drug given him the strength of a rhinoceros, the excess amount of it that he's injected into his veins has given him the brain of a turkey. I'm amazed that Kyril even has the basic motor functions to walk still.

"I know that I can't lift you, but no one said that picking you up off your feet was the only way that you could be defeated. Even if your feet are made of cement and you grease yourself up with vegetable oil just to make sure I can't lift you even an inch into the air, I can still find a way to take you out, whether I have to let Lane do all of the work or if I end up doing the majority of the damage in yet another match, I can promise you that you'll be on your back at some point in the fight."

There is a few second pause.

"To you, that might have been something to laugh at. To you, you're probably making with those few sentences about how that strap is something that I desire, even though it is nothing more than a strap with a family name engraved into it. Keeping it as far away from you as possible, yes. Keeping it for myself? I would rather give away this monopoly money than hold that stupid fucking strap for longer than a week. I have no use for a gold plated belt, the one I have does me fine."

We think the mummy might be smirking under the gauze, but we really can't tell.

"Kyril, behind those fucks you give away free of charge and that strange accent that slurs your words into something different altogether, you know that I'm nothing to shrug off, no matter how my performance was on the Classic or whenever show you can pull out from this website. I keep growing and getting better at what I want to accomplish, and getting through you, a Shane

guy that might as well be his top batter at this point of time, will prove to him, that a vengeful man is out for his blood, and he isn't afraid to get through the toughest man he has."

He chuckles for a bit before continuing.

"I could go after Shane at any moment, but just like you, I like to toy about with possible prey. I'd like to give them a chance to run before I get 'em with the kill shot. So come on, beta, give me your worst, because I can plow through it no matter how you present yourself."

Jack picks up the three magazines and begins to slowly tear them down the middle. He takes his time and pauses as he tears it straight down the middle. He appears to be enjoying himself while he does this.

"And now I come to you, Mister Lane. Father Time isn't all so kind to a man who continues to exhaust himself nearly every week for the sake of entertainment. You've found more success here as a wrestler than anywhere else as a rocker, from what I've seen from you, so it only makes sense for you to fight to remain in the limelight of the ring. A man who has no concern for his well being might as well be dead inside, Mister Lane. I respect your dedication and your willingness to continue fighting, but squaring off against a man who doesn't know his physical limits is quite depressing.

"You're willing to put yourself through pain just to hold a strap that I can't see the value of. You're willing to ignore people who keep trying to help you and heal you just so you can fight to hold what's yours. You're injured, drained, and exhausted, yet you keep going. Well, that's the life of a 'megastar', after all, and this man simply can't handle it."

By now, the bandaged man has torn the magazines about a quarter of the way through.

"I understand that you're great, I understand that you're willing to go all the way and even further beyond just to keep that stupid fucking strap, but how long can you keep forcing yourself to remain great? It may not look like it, even if you're playing some role in an insipid story where you come out as healthy as a clear sky, I care about people. Since I care about people, I'm planning to take you down not for your strap, but for your well being. Otherwise, you'll really be like Owen Hart, Davey Smith, Plum Mariko, or whoever else died during the middle of a match, whether it's through a skit that went horribly wrong or hitting the mat harder than your spine can take."

The magazine stack is torn halfway through by now.

"You tell yourself that you're fine while you make jokes about my gauze being toilet paper, even though gauze is clearly much smaller than toilet paper. You tell yourself that you're still fit to wrestle while you display homophobia poorly disguised as a joke. You like to say that I look perfectly normal while you yourself are inching ever closer to the ER. Since you'll poke fun either way, here's a photo my caretaker took of me before they wrapped me up in five layers of gauze bandages."

He sets down the ruined magazines and pulls out a photograph from his coat pocket. He holds it close to the camcorder so the viewers at home could take a good look at his beautiful face.

After that, he puts the photo back into his pocket and picks up the magazines once more and continues to tear them apart.

"I don't care who I fight as long as I get closer to my goal. I could fight men in the back alley or men who walked straight off of the red carpet if they choose to throw themselves in front of the piece of shit that is Shane

. Take note, Lane, I didn't get tricked by Pest to team with him. Take note that I gave him money to align himself with me to strip the belts off of Kendall, and we were successful in doing so, even if it lead to treachery and giving the belts away afterwards. Call me the mummified Robin Hood, if you must, because I'm willing to do the same thing I did with the tag straps not too long ago. I'm willing to give them away to someone else because I simply don't want it.

"It's not the strap I'm after, it's nothing more than a prop held by an actor in a theater. I'm after putting you down for the sake of your health and to get to Shane. If I can get through you, there is nothing stopping me from getting through everyone else."

The magazines let out a final 'SHHRRRRRRRP!' as they are torn apart from the pages.

"Go ahead and put me in my place if you want to kill yourself that much faster, Mister Lane. I'll be watching your eulogy with a forlorn eye."

With that, the scene fades to white.

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