He rumbles in the passenger seat of a car huddled up against the door as the rickety old Mercedes bumbles along the road and M.D.K. looks uncomfortable as the driver happily trundles along. The camera slowly pans from the passenger side towards the driver and we see the cause for concern. A dog that is allegedly an Alsatian but looks more like a fucking wolf sits between the pair panting happily while licking its chops as it stares at M.D.K.

M.D.K.: “Is he… is he safe?”

Driver: “Я научил свою собаку кусать только чернокожих мужчин!”

He roars with laughter and M.D.K. looks at his phone for a translation.

M.D.K.: “I have no idea what you said but it sounds racist so I think I’ll leave it there…”

He turns to view the road ahead and the dog leans in and licks the side of M.D.K.’s face who looks disgruntled.

M.D.K.: “Regardless of potentially getting fleas, ticks and rabies, I’d like to thank you for the ride.”

Driver: “Нет проблем.”

M.D.K.: “How fan can you take me?”

Driver: “Я отвезу тебя в Томск, и тогда мой друг поможет тебе.”

M.D.K.: “Not a fucking clue but I heard the word Tomsk. That’s great. I can sort something for myself from there…”

The driver wiggles his finger and smiles again.

Driver: “Нет нужды. Мой друг отвезет вас оттуда.”

M.D.K.: “Why do I feel that you can understand every word I say and yet you continue to answer everything in Russian?”

The driver simply laughs and reaches over to M.D.K.’s side of the car and slaps his knee to move it out of the way. M.D.K. obliges and the driver opens the glove compartment. He takes the bottle of vodka from inside and M.D.K. can’t help but notice the handgun in there that he thankfully leaves there before closing it up. He takes the lid from the bottle and takes a large mouthful before offering it to M.D.K. who raises his hand to decline but the driver furrows his brow and thrusts it into the chest of the WGWF alumni who reluctantly obliges and retches at the taste.

M.D.K.: “Fuck me that tastes like methylated spirit! You could strip paint with that!”

The driver once again laughs and proceeds to drive with his knees as he pours some into his cupped hand and offers it to the hound who eagerly laps up the spirit and then turns to M.D.K. as though it were calling him a pussy for retching. The journey continues but M.D.K.’s eyes grow heavy after a while and he drifts off to sleep.

---

It’s several hours later and night has fallen. The car has stopped at a run down service station and M.D.K. continues to sleep but is abruptly woken by the door opens and M.D.K. lurches sideways until he catches himself awake. He glances up at driver who gestures for him to climb out of the car and as he obliges, he shoots a glance at the glove compartment and can’t help but wonder if the gun is still there. He stands by the car and lights a cigarette as M.D.K. rubs his eyes and looks up at the rusting sign before checking his watch for the time. He briefly glares at the camera until the legend appears to makes things clearer for all of us.

Somewhere just outside Tomsk, Russia - 3am. 16th May 2019.

M.D.K.: “What the hell is this place?”

A figure makes his way across the cracked and worn tarmac and also lights up a cigarette as he casually walks across towards them.

M.D.K.: “Fucking hell, does nobody in Russia care about Health and Safety.”

?: “Mr M.D.K.? It is truly an hour to meet you.”

M.D.K.: “How the fuck do you know who I am? What’s going on?”

This man is smartly dressed in stark contrast to the driver who is clad in peasant brown clothes. A smart long black coat frames a silk shirt as he approaches while drawing heavily on the cigarette. He response glides towards M.D.K. on the smoke he exhales.

?: “Forgive me for the abruptness of the meeting but Sacha here may look like an oaf, may be the oaf of his village and may have not been quite right since he worked three years clearing up fission reactors but he still knows a celebrity when he encounters one and I for one couldn’t wait to meet such a mass of beef.”

M.D.K.: “Listen up…”

He pauses to learn this man’s name.

Fedor: “It is Fedor… Fedor Tym-”

M.D.K.: “Listen up Fedor I-don’t-care-about-your-surname-ov… I’ve been abandoned at a prison, licked by a fucking dire wolf straight from Game of cunting Thrones, given paint stripper to drink and sat in a car for nearly thirty fucking hours so forgive me if I don’t want your fucking life history. Where the fuck am I, what the fuck are you doing here and why the fuck are you talking to me like some informant from The X Files?”

Fedor simply laughs and raises his hands to the irate Englishman.

Fedor: “Danny, please… relax a little. What you have gone through this past few days is not your regular Russian hospitality. Allow me to make up for impatient taxi drivers and over-eager canines…”

He gestures to the driver who reaches into the car and withdraws the handgun from the glove compartment.

M.D.K.: “Wait how do you know about-.”

He hands the gun to Fedor who points the gun at the dog who is oblivious to the commotion and M.D.K. goes from curious to fearful in a heartbeat.

M.D.K.: “Whoa! Whoa! Chill the fuck out! Don’t shoot the fucking dog! Calm down!”

Fedor shrugs, lowers the gun and throws it to Sacha who fumbles with it before catching it and tossing it into the car carelessly.

M.D.K.: “Look, just let me know what the fuck is going on and how I can get home. I have places to be as you may be aware.”

Fedor: “Ah yes, the festival of decadence being held in Moscow. XWF will be treating Moscow like a cheap whore and will leave her in a state…”

There is an awkward silence between all three men... and the dog.

Fedor: “And I fucking LOVE IT!”

He laughs and stares at Sacha as he does who joins in with the laughter and M.D.K. simply stares at them both.

M.D.K.: “Will somebody… for the love of fucking Mary, Joseph, Jesus and Allah tell me what the BLUE FUCK… is going on…?”

They both stop laughing and Fedor takes another drag of his cigarette before continuing.

Fedor: “You know, some might say that you are a little uptight… do you have Russian blood in you?”

M.D.K. tilts his head and offers Fedor nothing except an incredulous look. Fedor raises his hands and continues.

Fedor: “OK… I will cut to… as you Westerners say… the cheese…”

M.D.K.: “It’s chase… cut to the chase…”

Fedor: “… You English… you make me laugh! So yes, Sacha brought you here with a reason and I have to be honest, I need a man like you.”

M.D.K.: “Look, if this going to turn into a Taken style fuck-fest, I’m not into that kind of thing. Sorry…”

Fedor: “Nonsense… I need you to… deal with something for me…”

M.D.K.: “Sounds ominous…”

Fedor: “I have a nephew… Big fan of the fighting and has been getting a reputation as a bully… I need to teach him the error of his ways.”

M.D.K.: “And you think asking a man who has made a career out of bullying people is the best person to do this for you?”

Fedor: “I don’t need you to teach him a fable or tell him a story… I need you to teach him a lesson…”

M.D.K.: “Look, I’m kinda pressed for time so I really would love to help but I don’t have time to travel to another obscure location, sit backwards on a chair and teach somebody like some hip teacher…”

Fedor: “No travel necessary…”

He holds up his arm and a large articulated lorry becomes illuminated. M.D.K. looks up with his mouth agape.

M.D.K.: “Looks ominous too…”

Fedor holds his arm out and walks towards the back of the lorry.

Fedor: “Please, follow and allow me to show you…”

Fedor leads M.D.K. to the back of the lorry and explains during the short walk until they reach the back of the lorry.

Fedor: “You see, I have been reading up on scaring children straight and I was hoping that you would be able to do that. All I need you to do is climb into the lorry, and rough him up a little… It won’t take much and then I will come in and lecture him a little…”

M.D.K.: “And then I can go to where I need to be?”

Fedor: “I have your car booked and I promise you it’s better than Sacha…”

M.D.K.: “What’s the kid’s name?”

Fedor: “Yvgeny… And I never said he was a child…”

M.D.K. looks over at Fedor in a confused manner as two burly men swing the doors open of the trailer and a pair of steps unfold. M.D.K. tentatively climbs up and into the lorry when lights slowly flick on and M.D.K. can see a few people lined either side of the lorry baying. M.D.K. approaches a seated man with his back to him.

M.D.K.: “What the fuck is going on?”

Lights illuminate the inside of the trailer as a roar of the engine kicks into life and the figure with his back to M.D.K. stands up to his hulking, impressive full frame. He’s a good 6’8” and must weigh about 300lbs and he’s smirking wildly as the crowd start shouting and jeering. He squares up to M.D.K. who struggles to keep his balance as the vehicle starts to move.

M.D.K.: “Easy there big fella… a little bit of personal space if you will…”

Yvgeny: “Я тебя раздавлю”

Crowd Member: “He says that he will crush you!”

M.D.K.: “Oh really? I hadn’t fucking worked that out from the look in his eyes and the advancing fucking nature!”

The lorry rounds a corner and Yvgeny wobbles but remains on his feet although M.D.K. can’t do the same and stumbles onto all fours.

Crowd Member: “Yvgeny has balance like mountain goat… very rugged…”

M.D.K. sighs and climbs to his feet and as he gets to one knee, drives his forearm into the groin but Yvgeny is unmoved by such a manoeuvre.

Crowd Member: “Yvgeny has very tough scrotum… like mountain goat… very rugged…”

M.D.K.: “Does he have anything that isn’t like a rugged fucking mountain goat?”

Before the man can respond, Yvgeny has M.D.K. by the throat and spins him around before launching him across the length of the lorry which is still clearly moving. M.D.K. climbs to his feet and Yvgeny is upon him but M.D.K. swings a right that connects but doesn’t move the hulking Russian an inch. Yvgeny simply smiles in response and grabs M.D.K. by the throat before lifting him up into the air. M.D.K. kicks his legs before reaching out and drives both thumbs into the eye sockets of Yvgeny which squeezes a horrifying scream from the beast of Eastern Europe… Yvgeny whimpers on the floor as a sweating M.D.K. slips his shirt off and smiles between pants.

M.D.K.: “Right you Kremlin cunt… time for a lesson comrade…”

He advances on the still whimpering Russian as the camera pans to a wide shot of the truck winding its way along Russian highways.

--

A forest in Russia - 6:30am - 16th May

The truck has stopped as the sun beams through the trees early in the morning as Fedor stands before the doors and nods at the two burly men open the doors up and there is initially nothing until the now bloodied t-shirt of M.D.K. is thrown into the face of Fedor who quickly removed it from his face and then looks on in shock as a sweaty, bloodied and exhausted M.D.K. steps from the shadows and stumbles down the steps before walking straight up to a terrified Fedor.

You owe me a vehicle and a laundry service…

He snatches his t-shirt back as he walks towards the escort vehicle and climbs into it and signals for the driver to move on….

---

Moscow - 11pm - 18th May

Chris Page is sat in an armchair in the bar of his hotel with a large cigar lit and a look of calm across his face. He has his phone in his hand and is dialling a number and awaits an answer as he hears a commotion from the lobby and cranes his neck to get a better view as the call goes to voicemail. He leaves a message.

CCP: “Look, I’ve not heard from you man… get back to me as soon as you can… what the fu-”

A startled receptionist hands a key over to the familiar figure of M.D.K. who is looking exactly how we left him 48 hours previously. He staggers through the lobby as a bellboy emerges from a side-room with his luggage that he had assumed had gone missing earlier. Page jogs up to his friend with a baffled look on his face.

CCP: “Danny… what the fuck happened?”

M.D.K.: “I should have jet-pooled with you…”

CCP: “Danny?”

M.D.K.: “I’ll see you in a few days…”

M.D.K. climbs into the elevator and allows it to close as he waves weakly at a still baffle Page as the doors close.

---

Still Moscow - 24th May

We find M.D.K. sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room and is wearing just a towel. A woman wearing naught but lingerie is tending to his wounds until M.D.K. clearly gets his cue and with that, he ushers her away and a familiar smirk creeps across his face.

M.D.K.: “Peons, peasants and pissants… you’re welcome… You’re welcome for the bounty of which you are about to receive. You’re welcome for the fact that I have graced you with my words not once but twice ahead of this monumental event. You’re welcome to look upon me and take stock of your own pathetic, meandering existences…”

“You see, I had heard all the tales about the XWF for years having been a part of the WGWF for so very long and had always wondered if the grass would be greener but having seen what had come to us and realising that it didn’t amount to shit, I stayed away… And now I’m here… I regret nothing… and not only that, but I see why you have injected me straight into your main event. Because without the like of Page and I… what have you got other than those four sorry sons of bitches sat opposite us at the top table at War Games…”

“So apparently, I haven’t just beaten just one of the Four Must-be-Cunts previously but I’ve also beaten two of them! Although I’m gonna be honest Centurion, I have no fucking idea who you are and you can spout shit about the crowd not knowing me, the boys in the back not knowing me… but you fucking know me don’t you sunshine? You know what I can do, what I have done and what I will do again to you in the very near future. I had to be reminded who you were and how badly I had beaten you in the past because when you have been around like I have, the faces of the feeble tend to blur into one big blob of mediocrity… and yet… you go on to profess that nobody would know me if it wasn’t for Chris Page…”

“Remind me, was Chris Page there when you fucking choked against me last time? Was Page there when I dominated each and every company that I have set foot in. Not your fly by night federations but the biggest and the best league, federations and tournaments. I dominated, decimated and destroyed each and every fucking mortal in my path and you Centurion, were just another victim. A run of the mill victory against another slab of meat.”

He smirks and tilts his head as a though crosses his mind.

M.D.K.: “And to think, that slab of meat can find himself in a main event here along with two generic bitches whose name sounds like a fucking roofing company and a man who has been beaten by me on so many occasions, I feel that I should start charging him for his pleasure and for my agony of having to endure the same old shit from him time and time again.”

“Jimmy Pigeon, Jimmy Ray, That’s So Raven, Stark Raven Mad… Insert bird based pun here… Do you know what the definition of madness is? It’s following the James Raven model of being excited about fighting me once again only to already understand what the result is going to be time and time and time again. I’ve seen your schtick before Jimmy. I’ve heard the puns, listened to you put on the Scrappy Doo tough guy voice, heard you sound like the bastard love-child of Deadpool and Daria minus the wit and I’ve watched you cower before me like a bitch. At what point will those pretty little synapses in your brain flicker into life and allow the penny to drop that will tell you categorically that you can’t fucking beat me. It’s not bad luck, it’s not the venue, the ring or the weather but rather your own, hopeless ineptitude.”

“And in amongst the mass of mediocrity, we have the also rans… Like runners up at the Special Olympics, Main and Archylde are not only losers but are fucking spastics to boot… The pair of them have been granted here into the main event based on what I can only assume to be a pity placement or at the very least based on the fact you ended up holding some gold by chance as though you accomplished something significant.”

“I mean Robbie can at least harp on about his own individual accomplishments but what can you do Drew? I mean the grip you must have could be considered industrial because for you to have held on to Robbie’s coattails for all this time deserves some recognition.”

“You Drew, are that work-shy little shit that every single 9-5 drone encounters at some time in their dreary careers. The one that skirts by and does the bare minimum and yet manages to accrue fame and glory despite doing fuck all. That’s you Drew. While Robert tries… and boy does he try to generate an iota of interest in his dull as fuck cadence, you just float on by, boring people into submission while you remain deathly pale due to spending your pitiful existence in the shadow of Bobby beside you.”

“Stack the four of you up and you have one half decent professional… The trouble is, you might think that you are a unit and that combined you amount to something more that average but this isn’t the Power Rangers. You won’t combine and become a massive fucking robot and you won’t amount to a hill of shit up against one of us. So how in the fuck do you stand a hope in hell against four of the deadliest mother fuckers in this business. I’m going to be frank with you, it’s at this stage of the story I’m supposed to tell you three little words that expose you for what you are… I’m meant to call you inferior, stare into the camera and it fades out… but you boys aren’t worth my time…”

He leans forwards and clicks the camera off abruptly…