Ten Minutes Earlier

Flynn and Irwin sit in the courtroom.

In Flynn’s hand? A large manilla folder.

Suddenly, from the room’s rear…

…Some lady in a button-up shirt. Hair in a bun.

Pushing a wheeled cart.

The Judge glances up perplexedly at a woman wheeling a cart up into the well of the courtroom.

“Uh…” The Judge adjusts his glasses. “Is this really the time to replace a printer, Miss Jensen?”

“Haha, no, your Honor.” Retorts the… cart?

On top of the cart… Is a Canon 7-in-1 Inkjet Workstation. And a phone.

“Christopher K. Clinton, representing the XWF, Your Honor.”

“...Wait, are you the phone or the printer?”

…Flynn side-eyes, gritting his teeth angrily. “Ugh, Clinton.”

Irwin peers over at the cart confused. “...What? What are you talking about?”

Flynn exhales, exasperated at the idea of having to explain anything to anyone. “It’s Christopher K. Clinton. The scum-sucking attorney that sniffs around the wrestling industry for legal wrongs to profit off of. He defended Vita Valenteen from Big Money Oswald’s conspiracy accusation AND LSM from Ozzy’s attempts to legally rescind the Billion Dollar Belt.”

Irwin shakes his head. “No, I’m a fan of yours, I’m already familiar with Chris Clinton. He’s the persona you adopt sometimes when you pretend to be a lawyer, right? The one that bailed Theo and Luca out of jail.”

Flynn snorts angrily. “If you already know who it is, don’t make me exposit, Irwin. You *know* I despise CLUMSY EXPOSITIONAL DIALOGUE.”

“It’s just… How is he here if you’re here? You and he… are… physically… the same guy, right?”

…

Irwin looks over at Flynn, and doubles back shocked.

Flynn’s right eye is twitching like a power line.

“IT’S… COMPLICATED.” Flynn rapidly blinks… Getting his brain in order.

“Ah…” The Office Worker rotates the cart toward the plaintiff’s desk… “Is that Mark Flynn, I hear?”

Flynn’s SLAMS his fists against the table and rises to his feet, menacingly.

“Clinton.” Flynn shakes his head. “You slippery eel. You SCOUNDREL.” Flynn fiercely adjusts his sparkly blue tie (the same color as his traditional wrestling tights). “I’ve been waiting for the day to strike you down ever since you ffffffffFFFFFFFUCKED me with that media appearance clause at the Cannabis Cup.” Flynn straightens his manilla folder. “Prepare for your IMMINENT EVISCERATION.”

“Haha, great monologue, I’m sure, Flynn. Of course, I can’t *actually* hear anything you’re saying.”

…

Flynn squints.

“...Wait, now *I’m* confused.”

“Unfortunately, I’m dealing with a prior conflict and cannot argue at trial in person… Or even in the present.” Miss Jensen wheels the cart back towards the bench. “Fortunately, your honor, I have pre-recorded my argument on XWF’s behalf.”

…Flynn grips the sides of the desk furiously.

“Clinton, how FUCKING dare you? You think you’re good enough at the law that you could POSSIBLY anticipate and refute my FLAWLESS argument BEFORE I’VE EVEN MADE IT?”

…

“If Flynn has questioned my ability to anticipate and pre-record refuting his argument? Please press one.”

Miss Jensen presses one on the phone.

“Yes, Mark, I am saying that.”

…

…Flynn sits back down, seething angrily.

“Godammit. I hate him so much… But he’s very good.”

…Suddenly, the printer begins to whir and chug… A paper shoots out!

“Your Honor, please reference the document in my printer tray, I’ve filed a motion with your office to argue this way, well in advance. You’ve already granted this accommodation.”

Miss Jensen whips the document out of the tray and gently lays it on the judge’s bench.

…The judge adjusts his reading glasses, eyeing the document.

“...Hmm. Well, if I already approved it…” The judge shrugs, smacking his gavel. “I see no reason not to proceed.”

“Plaintiff, present your argument.”

…

“Heh.”

“Heheh!”

“HEHEHEH!”

Flynn leans over his table, gripping the sides, barely containing himself as he evilly belly-laughs.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The Judge bangs his gavel.

“Mister Flynn, that is enough maniacal laughter.”

Flynn bangs his fists against the table!

“Your honor, under the Federal Rules of Wrestling Civil Procedure…” Flynn extends the fingers of his right hand. “I HAVE ‘TIL FIVE.”

…

The judge looks over to his bailiff.

Who is only holding up four fingers.

The judge sighs. “Continue on, then.”

…

”HA!” Flynn shouts, before covering his mouth!

…Just before the bailiff can extend his fifth finger.

Flynn grins.

“Your Honor.” Flynn lifts up his Manila folder.

“In my hand, is a document.”

“But, not just any document.”

“A Record.”

“The Ultimate Record.”

“The same way that I scavenged through every Graves Uni Title shot, that I SCRAPED every LSM tweet, the very method by which I EXPOSED MYSELF TO EVERY INSTANCE WHERE BOBBY BOURBON ENDED A MATCH IN A PILE OF HIS OWN SHIT.”

…

“Which is twice. But that’s still two more times than most other people.”

…

Flynn shoots a finger-gun at the stenographer.

“And now that fact is in the court record.”

“I have compiled a LIBRARY OF EVILS.”

“Every wrong ever wrought by the XWF. Every minor indiscretion. Every single brick in the FORTRESS that is the WIDESPREAD CONSPIRACY TO HOLD DOWN MARK FLYNN. Has been meticulously, rigorously and ALL-ENCOMPASSINGLY DOCUMENTED. In this folder.”

“THIS is MY magnum opus. THIS is the culmination of a lifetime of record-keeping. Of being THE STATS GUY.”

“We’re here now at the precipice of my true triumph. FLYNN VERSUS XWF. The Trial of the Century. Where Flynn will receive everything he deserves…”

“Cooooooooough.” The Printer that is a pre-recorded Chris Clinton says, instead of actually coughing.

Flynn seethes. “Your honor! I want that cough stricken from the record! It will TAINT MY PERFECT VICTORY.”

“Sorry, Flynnerino.” Clinton chuckles. “I just thought I’d save everyone some time and say whatever is in your folder, the XWF does not deny.”

“…Wel-”

…Flynn’s ears perk.

“…Pardon?”

“The XWF acknowledges, for the sake of argument, that it has participated in a conspiracy to limit the success of Mark Flynn.”

The printer chugs and shoots out a page. Jensen quickly whips it onto the judge’s bench.

“See XWF Exhibit A: The Answer to Flynn’s Complaint, where XWF agrees that Flynn’s conspiracy theories, that Theo has plotted against him for years, that a shadow government plots from within XWF to overtake the multiverse, that Steve Sayors was cloned in a lab to make the world’s saddest man science can create? It’s all true.”

***

“Hey!” Says Steve Sayors, watching the trial on a 2002 flip phone… Before dropping it in a bowl of chili… That he’s stewing in a shoe under an underpass..

…

“Awwwww, nuts…”

***

“Whatever Flynn says in that neat little file, let’s pretend it’s true.”

…

…Flynn smashes the table again!

”…YeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS! I-KNEW-IT, I-KNEW-IT, IKNEEEEEEEEEEEWIT!”

In a single bound, Flynn leaps atop his desk.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! VIN-DI-CA-TED!”

He leaps back to the ground. “I knew it! I kneeeeeeeew! When faced with his crimes, his MISDEEDS, his fucking ASSYMETRICAL PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE. That Theo Pryce would have NO CHOICE BUT TO PLEA FOR MERCY. And for him, I… have… NONE.”

Flynn wrings his hands fiendishly.

“I’m going to SUUUUUUE THE XWF. For every dollar, every dime, every RED FUCKING CENT THAT IT’S WORTH. They’re naming every training center after my HALF-A-FUCKING DICK. I’ll…”

The printer whirs to life.

“I’ll…”

It starts printing another document.

…

Flynn peers curiously as Miss Jensen hands over another document to the judge.

“What now, Clinton? Printing a surrender letter from Theo?”

“It’s a motion to dismiss”

…

“What?”

“A motion to dismiss your lawsuit right now.”

Flynn… grits his teeth.

“On. WHAT. FUCKING. GROUNDS?!?”

“Flynn. Are you familiar with res judicata?”

“…”

“Of course not. Legally, you can’t sue someone for the same wrong twice.”

The cart turns toward Jensen… (by Jensen’s pushing, of course.) “Miss Jensen, could you show Mister Flynn, XWF Exhibit B?”

Jensen takes the document from the Judge and slips it into Flynn’s face.

“Do you recognize this document?”

…Flynn swats it back into Jensen’s hand, without looking at it.

“No.” He mockingly reports. “Does that mess up your pre-recording?”

“If he denies having seen it, please press 2.”

Jensen presses 2.

“Mister Flynn, I’ll remind you that you’re under oath.”

…Flynn groans, ripping the document out of Jensen’s hands. His eyes scan up and down it.

…His face lights up in recognition.

“Oh yeah! I filed a lawsuit in 2014…”

***

XWF Backstage - 2014

Flynn walks up to a vending machine full of power bars.

In his hand is a crisp shiny dollar bill.

He slips it in. And presses G7.

A wondrous Peanut-Butter-Chocolate Protein bar is about to drop gently into his hands…

The metal whirls… The bar bends downward, dragged by gravity…

Flynn smiles.

…It catches. Hanging there.

…

Flynn’s smile disappears.

He smacks the side.

…Somehow, the power bar goes back to its original position.

…

“Oh. This is a war now.”

***

Several Weeks Later in Florida District Court

Flynn paces up and down the well, in front of a jury of his so-called peers.

“LAWS. ARE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT US.”

Flynn points across the court room.

“From MONSTERS LIKE THEO PRYCE. Who would STEAL YOUR HARD-EARNED DOLLARS… and not even give you a power bar for the privilege!!!”

…The Court turns shocked toward Pryce, who is rubbing his eyes groaning from the defense.

“If I give him back the dollar, can we close this case?”

The judge, (nine years younger) bangs his gavel.

“So ordered.”

“Yes!" Flynn snaps his fingers. "Another case won!”

***

“I sued XWF for STEALING MY GODDAMNED DOLLAR WITH ITS VENDING MACHINE.”

Flynn cries a single tear in pride. “Justice truly was served that day. Like a power bar on a dinner tray…”

“And in that suit, you claimed that Theo stole your dollar as part of a grandiose conspiracy to wage psychological warfare on you, correct, Mister Flynn?”

…Flynn is silent.

…But, Irwin meekly raises a hand.

“Your Honor, may I… uh… ask a question?”

The judge peers curiously.

“As a non-party with no stake in the court… Normally, no. But I’m currently watching a printer from the past question his opposing counsel, so why would we obey even the most basic rules of court decorum?” The Judge grunts sarcastically.

Irwin isn’t the best at social cues, though, so he sees that as a goahead, to the judge’s chagrin.

“Uh… I’m not a lawyer, but… I mean, these two conspiracies aren’t part of the same claim, right? Why would *anyone* think that stealing a dollar is part of a ploy to keep the Uni title away from Flynn.”

“Oooooh.” The cart mutters. “You have me there, Irwin… (Assuming you just pointed out my argument requires this court assume this power bar situation is part of the same claim Flynn is suing over today).”

…Flynn rubs Irwin’s shoulder encouragingly, giving him a thumbs up. Irwin beams, pleased to have pleased.

“In fact, the only way we could confirm that…” The cart continues. “Is if Flynn included the 2014 power bar incident in his… Ultimate Record.”

…

Irwin looks at Flynn.

…

Who is suddenly sweating like a pig in a sauna.

Irwin’s brow curls disappointedly.

“Sir… You didn’t…”

Flynn stutters, befuddled. “I-I-I… It was my ultimate record!!!” Flynn dabs the folder against his forehead, like he’s sprung a leak. “Without that incident…, the record would be…”

“Incomplete.” The cart laughs. “Which is how I knew you’d include it. *ahem* Miss Jensen, please spin me towards the judge with a flourish.”

Jensen does a 540 spin with the cart.

“Your Honor. Both Flynn’s pleading and the XWF’s answer make it clear that this court handled this matter nine years ago. Flynn has no legal right to sue his company for the same wrong twice.”

…

The judge scratches his chin.

“Fair point, Mister Inkjet.”

The gavel bangs twice.

“Case dismissed.”

“Yes!” Miss Jensen snaps her fingers for Clinton. “Another case won!”

Flynn stares down at his folder.

Having beaten himself.

“Shit.”