Mister Dread
League Member
::FADEIN on a patched and sagging wrestling ring inside a dim, dusty gym. A tattered banner hanging overhead proclaims this the Basham-Schultz Wrestling Academy, the dank and unsavory training grounds of “The Wolf” Chris McMillan. McMillan sits perched on the top turnbuckle of the ring, attired as usual in jeans, harness boots, and an Eddie Mayfield t-shirt. His head is down, his eyes locked on the mat as he begins to speak::
THE WOLF: The “new” New Frontier. What a concept. We’re turning the wrestling world on it’s ear with this one, I think. This is going to be something historic, something that carries on long after we’ve hung up our boots. This will be legendary. And I almost didn’t make it. See, just like Shane Southern, I almost walked away. I, however, had an entirely different reason.
::McMillan hops of the turnbuckle, walking slowly around the ring. He stops to touch a turnbuckle here, run his hands over the ropes there::
THE WOLF: I know that I’m one of the most gifted mat wrestlers in our sport today … but I know Evan Aho is better. I almost didn’t come.
THE WOLF: I’ve got Shane Southern’s knees … but not his charisma. I almost turned around.
THE WOLF: Here in the NFW, I walk amongst some of the greatest this sport has to offer. Some of the all time legends in this business. And who am I? Nobody. I almost packed my bag and quit.
THE WOLF: But I didn’t. Every day I wonder why. What hope do I have? What’s the point? But I’m slowly coming to a realization … or perhaps a revelation. I used to proclaim, along with a great many others, that I was the future of this sport. I used to claim that I had nothing to prove, nothing more to achieve, nothing to strive for except the pure joy that I feel in plying my chosen trade. But I was wrong. The man who once claimed to stand alone, independent from the locker room, booking, and the world is suddenly looking for validation around every corner, in every match, against every opponent. And so I stay. I stay because I finally realized that I DO have something to prove … to myself.
THE WOLF: I spent a long time trying to find some sort of purpose, some kind of direction for myself. I've been in a rut almost since I started. Always the underdog, the number-one contender, the runner-up, the number two seed, but never the man. Never. I know I had the skill. I know I had the heart. I did everything I could think of. I changed my name. I tried going back to my roots. I tried changing my image, but none of it made any difference. I still drifted around, wrestling wherever they’d let me, doing absolutely nothing of value. I’d condemned myself to the same type of mediocrity that I’d so often joyously predicted for others. I was ready to give up. But someone had planted a seed, given me the key to the door of my own redemption. That was Shane Southern.
THE WOLF: Shane, I haven’t forgotten what you did for me after Summer Survivor. That was one of my lowest points. Not only professionally, but personally. But you coming to visit me in the hospital … extending that hand of friendship, offering that small act of basic human kindness and understanding … that’s what turned things around for me when I was ready to give it all up. Because when I thought that this business, the people involved in it, and everyone around it were completely devoid of anything remotely resembling humanity, I thought of you, and that small thing you did for me. And so I hung on. And I came back.
::McMillan stalks to the center of the ring, staring into the camera::
THE WOLF: So here we are in our bid for the Ultratitle. Twenty-three of the best this sport has ever seen … and me. You’re all screwed.
::FADE TO BLACK::
THE WOLF: The “new” New Frontier. What a concept. We’re turning the wrestling world on it’s ear with this one, I think. This is going to be something historic, something that carries on long after we’ve hung up our boots. This will be legendary. And I almost didn’t make it. See, just like Shane Southern, I almost walked away. I, however, had an entirely different reason.
::McMillan hops of the turnbuckle, walking slowly around the ring. He stops to touch a turnbuckle here, run his hands over the ropes there::
THE WOLF: I know that I’m one of the most gifted mat wrestlers in our sport today … but I know Evan Aho is better. I almost didn’t come.
THE WOLF: I’ve got Shane Southern’s knees … but not his charisma. I almost turned around.
THE WOLF: Here in the NFW, I walk amongst some of the greatest this sport has to offer. Some of the all time legends in this business. And who am I? Nobody. I almost packed my bag and quit.
THE WOLF: But I didn’t. Every day I wonder why. What hope do I have? What’s the point? But I’m slowly coming to a realization … or perhaps a revelation. I used to proclaim, along with a great many others, that I was the future of this sport. I used to claim that I had nothing to prove, nothing more to achieve, nothing to strive for except the pure joy that I feel in plying my chosen trade. But I was wrong. The man who once claimed to stand alone, independent from the locker room, booking, and the world is suddenly looking for validation around every corner, in every match, against every opponent. And so I stay. I stay because I finally realized that I DO have something to prove … to myself.
THE WOLF: I spent a long time trying to find some sort of purpose, some kind of direction for myself. I've been in a rut almost since I started. Always the underdog, the number-one contender, the runner-up, the number two seed, but never the man. Never. I know I had the skill. I know I had the heart. I did everything I could think of. I changed my name. I tried going back to my roots. I tried changing my image, but none of it made any difference. I still drifted around, wrestling wherever they’d let me, doing absolutely nothing of value. I’d condemned myself to the same type of mediocrity that I’d so often joyously predicted for others. I was ready to give up. But someone had planted a seed, given me the key to the door of my own redemption. That was Shane Southern.
THE WOLF: Shane, I haven’t forgotten what you did for me after Summer Survivor. That was one of my lowest points. Not only professionally, but personally. But you coming to visit me in the hospital … extending that hand of friendship, offering that small act of basic human kindness and understanding … that’s what turned things around for me when I was ready to give it all up. Because when I thought that this business, the people involved in it, and everyone around it were completely devoid of anything remotely resembling humanity, I thought of you, and that small thing you did for me. And so I hung on. And I came back.
::McMillan stalks to the center of the ring, staring into the camera::
THE WOLF: So here we are in our bid for the Ultratitle. Twenty-three of the best this sport has ever seen … and me. You’re all screwed.
::FADE TO BLACK::