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JACK · (05-03-2015)

We fade in at a currently vacant bar where we see a dartboard nailed against a yellow wall with neon lights advertising various beers, none of which are currently on. On occasion, a dart is seen being tossed into the circular scoreboard, scoring a set amount of points, sometimes double or triple what it's worth. This uneventful round continues until all of the darts, both blue and red, are thrown onto the board. The bandaged man steps into view just to pull all of the darts off of the board. We aren't exactly sure how much he scored, since only the bottom half of the board can be picked up by the lens. Depending on his lack of reaction, we can either assume that he sucked and didn't score very highly, or he scored a very high amount and chose to keep to himself.

Whatever the score might be, Jack walks back out of the camera's eye and begins to toss darts at the board once more, seemingly careless about how accurate he may or may not be.

"Kyril likes to speak without thinking, as many of you have already noticed. He likes to speak without listening to the full argument, he likes to speak to others like he's much younger than he really is, and he likes to speak on the behalf of others, which is very impolite. Maybe where he was raised it was viewed as normal, but everywhere else, including every other territory in Russia, some form of discipline would come from behavior like his. So, not only have we revealed that he isn't really well developed, he's also spoiled rotten."

Jack chuckles to himself as we see one blue dart pierce a hole through the 17 point marker.

"Explains why he has this God complex and how he really thinks he's the greatest thing that happened to this Earth since sliced bread. Wait, sliced bread builds body fat. Let me correct myself, he thinks he's the best thing that happened to this Earth since the human bicep."

He pulls all of the darts off the board again. His next throws appear to be taking longer, as if trying to be more accurate this time around.

"And even when he speaks, whether he does it by himself or has the assistance of someone who just watched my video to ask him about points that I wouldn't even consider essential, he manages to make himself look like a bigger idiot than others make him out to be. Of course, that is when he isn't calling people

as if Texas has taken over the rest of America. For the sake of keeping order in this promo and not talking about each other's penises as if we're back in high school, I'm going to address his points in order presented."

We see a red dart pierce the triple seven marker, earning twenty one points if Jack was keeping score.

"Steroids aren't illegal, you are right about that, but I never claimed that they were. I was claiming that you needed them in order to keep your body the way that it is right now. Of course, the more you use them, the more those muscles are going to kill you in the future. Hell, I could just pull your finger and I'd end up dislocating it because of how fragile your joints just became. You may look strong now, but in that ring, me and Mister Lane, if he isn't going to kill himself from exhaustion, will be bore than happy to show you just how weak those roids really make you.

"Besides, what kind of God relies on steroids to give him the strength he needs, anyways? I didn't know that even with all the powers you claim to have, you still need a drug to give you the strength to take down average men in a wrestling federation, and even then you don't succeed with it often. Now how are you going to explain that, exactly?"

Once more he walks over to the dart board and pulls off the darts so he can toss them again.

"Well he already did, and he made the situation worse on himself, which he's always good at doing. He goes on to explain that all of the Gods before him have done nothing in this world. While that may be true, they also have scriptures dedicated to their powers that showcase what they could do, yet don't. The Christian God has been stated to create universes in a week, flood the world and command a single man to build an ark to store two of every animal, and spread plagues throughout an entire kingdom, whether they were healthy or not. Of course, I'm only using the Holy Father as an example. I didn't mention Shiva, the God who can create and destroy anything with the simple wave of his hand, or any of the Greek and Roman Gods and Goddesses, who can willingly summon monsters, transmogrify humans, and be as malevolent or benevolent as they wish with the clay known as the human race."

A blue dart hits the outer bullseye.

"The only thing that has been recorded involving you was a criminal record, countless murders, a false prophet, and how men with and without faith, special powers, or even fear can beat you with very little problems. What was that word you kept repeating involving the fictitious Gods? That's right, nothing. You've done nothing that could be considered God-like, nothing that could make anyone fear you outside of this piece of shit company, and nothing that could warrant you any more of my time outside of this recording. Are you finally understanding it now, Kyril? You're nothing."

He chuckles once more as we can barely see a red dart hit the inner bullseye. After throwing such an amazing shot, he walks forward and picks up all of the darts he threw at the board so he can do it again.

"His error on what I said about Eli speaks for itself, but just in case he doesn't know where or how he fucked up, I'll be more than happy to correct it for him. He thinks I labeled Eli James as a run of the mill wrestler with no special record or identity. In actuality, I just said that he had no supernatural powers, let alone powers of any kind. You'd think that someone who claims to be a God, let alone one that claims to be more intelligent than me, would've known what I was talking about."

There is a brief pause.

"And about your whole Victory Forever shit that you still haven't stopped. Is it not true that you had to pay one of your opponents to remove your name from a list of men that he defeated? You still want to keep that charade going, even if you like to lie about how you ended it. What exactly are you winning, anyways? Most amount of times being proven wrong? Well congrats, you still hold the lead in that regard."

We can hear the sound of a door being unlocked not too far away from the mummy's current location, but that doesn't deter him from throwing more darts at the board.

"Was it really worth not wasting anymore time on me to double check your facts? Was it really worth trying to speak on Mister Lane's behalf while he's still tending to his health? Was it really worth it dismissing me as an idiot while you continue to prove that no matter what I do or say, you've already done and said something even worse? No matter what the answers to those questions might or might not be, you're still going to find yourself falling from grace once more, failing to take down even the most normal men in this company. It's what you're destined for, after all."

Footsteps can be heard stomping on the floorboard towards the camcorder, as if the owner is trying to figure out just who is making so much noise when the bar is still closed.

"How the fuck did you get into my bar!?"

The bandaged man laughs somewhat quietly at the gruff sounding owner.

"Don't fucking laugh at me, you mummified freak. Answer the question before I call the cops!"

"Is it really so tough to make sure all of your windows are closed before you lock up?

"You sneaked in through the fucking bathroom?"

The owner groans out of annoyance.

"Look, that was really clever of you to sneak in through there and not come out smelling like shit, but you need to get the fuck out of here now."

"While I still have two more darts in my hand? I still have to finish this round before I can even leave."

"You've been playing darts with yourself the entire night! How the fuck are there even rounds when you're on your own?"

Before the mummy can respond, the owner yells out, preventing any coherent answer to come out of the mummy's mouth.

"Why the fuck am I even asking you this!? Get out of my bar now, before I call the cops!"

"Come on, Owen, is that any way to treat your former drinking buddy?

The owner seems to be stunned silent.

"I remember when we used to drink at this bar while we were still in high school. We used to stop by here to have a few pints and take turns on a pinball machine before some jackass broke it by bodyslamming himself into it. After we drank until we couldn't stand, we always used to drive home in our parent's cars, which we always crashed into a maple tree on the nearby park. We always used to call that our pit stop because of how often and how fast we drove into it. I still find it amazing how it didn't fall down after three cars rammed it."

Beat.

"How the fuck do you know about all of this?"

"Didn't your father tell you about the fire? Didn't he tell you about how he pulled me out of the burning building when the door fell off it's hinges?"

The owner keeps to himself as he puts all of the pieces together.

"...Jack? But how? My dad told me that you died in the hospital as soon as he dropped you off!"

"He didn't want you to know what became of me. Nobody did. That's why they told you I died to keep you from seeing me the way I am now. Since you just caught me playing darts, I didn't feel the need to hide the truth from you anymore."

Owen seems to be laughing out of shock, not knowing what else to do other than that.

"You gotta tell me where you've been all this time, man! We have some major catching up to do!"

"I can't."

Beat.

"Why not?"

"The XWF would make you a target if you appear on film more than once. Letting them hear your voice is bad enough, but some of the people watching what I do will see you and try to mount your head on a wall as a trophy. I'm staying away from you to keep you safe."

Owen laughs some more.

"I don't understand."

"Just know that I'm doing it to keep you safe. Shame the same can't be said about everyone else I meet."

The scene fades to white while the conversation is still going, muffling their voices to the point of gibberish.

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