(A limousine pulls up in front of O'Hare Airport. Hornet steps out, revealing a young woman with Asiatic features dressed in a business suit. He seems slightly perturbed as she hands him an envelope, but finally shuts the door, grabs his bag and turns toward the airport terminal entrance...only to find a camera crew waiting.)
No rest for the weary, huh?
Segment Producer: Sorry, Hornet, just following orders.
I understand, Bob. It's not your fault. Let's get this over with. This is for Hornet/Southern right?
(Bob nods as he gestures for the cameraman to start rolling. He gives Hornet a countdown.)
I'm sorry if you think I came off as a whiner, Shane. Anybody that knows my history knows that's the last thing I intend. Otherwise, we might have to crown a new "King of the Whiners," and then people would just come up with less-flattering nicknames for GUNS.
If you want my 'spot,' Shane, then you know what you have to do. And you're obviously prepared to do. Now, to use an old cliche, you've just gotta cash the check. And I'm willing to bet my bank account against yours in this fight.
I just got done with an event in Boston for a wrestling promotion I never intended to set foot in the ring for, until Merritt decided to auction me off like a side of beef. But before you accuse me of 'whynin' Shane, let me be clear. I walked into the arena... the workers backstage knew who I was, and there were two camps. Some of the WWR's finest wanted autographs, and some wanted to be the next one to take me down a peg.
Talk to Brad Schilling about his 'spot,' about him being noticed. He wanted the rub off me...so I gave it to me. He walked into that arena as the WWR North American Champion, and he walked out with nothing around his waist but spandex.
Talk to Wicked Sight about taking my 'spot,' Shane. He walked into Seattle with high hopes, and then let a technical glitch distract him for just enough time to kill his rubber tree plant.
And that's all it takes is one little mistake, Shane. You're not one of the detractors that twists the truth... you know why I'm in the position I'm in. I didn't step into the CSWA as its 'franchise player,' I fought my way there, for better or worse. And that's why I know that no matter what warnings I give you about getting what you wish for, you're not going to stop until you're there.
But to get there...you've got to be PERFECT. You can't let anyone or anything distract you. Not in the ring, not backstage, not in the bathroom. You can sign all the autographs you want, but if you start focusing on doing everything for 'little Timmy,' you're setting yourself up for failure.
Because it won't be little Timmy standing across the ring from you, Shane. It'll be me. I'll said it before, and I'll say it again. I know you're a hell of an athlete, and you know what it means to be a champion. I sat there and watched you take Aho to the limit in Seattle...and if you can do it to him, you can certainly do it to me. You proved you were just as good as the man that holds the World Title.
But you weren't better.
On a personal note, Shane... and I know it's ironic coming from me to talk about 'personal' notes. Don't ever belittle what happened to me in Sweetwater. You can accuse me of whining about what Merritt does, or what anybody else has done. You can ridicule me, you can mock me, I don't care. But until you've had a concrete wall come down on your back, don't accuse me of whining about that. That part's off-limits. Cut a promo on anything else I've done in this sport, or in my personal life if you want, but respect at least that one moment of my life as mine and mine alone.
See ya in Kansas City, Shane.
No rest for the weary, huh?
Segment Producer: Sorry, Hornet, just following orders.
I understand, Bob. It's not your fault. Let's get this over with. This is for Hornet/Southern right?
(Bob nods as he gestures for the cameraman to start rolling. He gives Hornet a countdown.)
I'm sorry if you think I came off as a whiner, Shane. Anybody that knows my history knows that's the last thing I intend. Otherwise, we might have to crown a new "King of the Whiners," and then people would just come up with less-flattering nicknames for GUNS.
If you want my 'spot,' Shane, then you know what you have to do. And you're obviously prepared to do. Now, to use an old cliche, you've just gotta cash the check. And I'm willing to bet my bank account against yours in this fight.
I just got done with an event in Boston for a wrestling promotion I never intended to set foot in the ring for, until Merritt decided to auction me off like a side of beef. But before you accuse me of 'whynin' Shane, let me be clear. I walked into the arena... the workers backstage knew who I was, and there were two camps. Some of the WWR's finest wanted autographs, and some wanted to be the next one to take me down a peg.
Talk to Brad Schilling about his 'spot,' about him being noticed. He wanted the rub off me...so I gave it to me. He walked into that arena as the WWR North American Champion, and he walked out with nothing around his waist but spandex.
Talk to Wicked Sight about taking my 'spot,' Shane. He walked into Seattle with high hopes, and then let a technical glitch distract him for just enough time to kill his rubber tree plant.
And that's all it takes is one little mistake, Shane. You're not one of the detractors that twists the truth... you know why I'm in the position I'm in. I didn't step into the CSWA as its 'franchise player,' I fought my way there, for better or worse. And that's why I know that no matter what warnings I give you about getting what you wish for, you're not going to stop until you're there.
But to get there...you've got to be PERFECT. You can't let anyone or anything distract you. Not in the ring, not backstage, not in the bathroom. You can sign all the autographs you want, but if you start focusing on doing everything for 'little Timmy,' you're setting yourself up for failure.
Because it won't be little Timmy standing across the ring from you, Shane. It'll be me. I'll said it before, and I'll say it again. I know you're a hell of an athlete, and you know what it means to be a champion. I sat there and watched you take Aho to the limit in Seattle...and if you can do it to him, you can certainly do it to me. You proved you were just as good as the man that holds the World Title.
But you weren't better.
On a personal note, Shane... and I know it's ironic coming from me to talk about 'personal' notes. Don't ever belittle what happened to me in Sweetwater. You can accuse me of whining about what Merritt does, or what anybody else has done. You can ridicule me, you can mock me, I don't care. But until you've had a concrete wall come down on your back, don't accuse me of whining about that. That part's off-limits. Cut a promo on anything else I've done in this sport, or in my personal life if you want, but respect at least that one moment of my life as mine and mine alone.
See ya in Kansas City, Shane.