There Is No Bottom
(CUE UP: “Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima” by Krzysztof Penderecki. Yes, fans, we’ve gone into the depths of Classical Sludge.)
(We open on a shot descending through a maddening labyrinth of hissing and steaming metal pipes. Intense condensation and corrosion create the effect of water trickling down the leaden web of plumbing to an unseen world above. As we get lower, the pipes are less dense, and the leaking trail of water converges upon a single and somewhat redundant looking rod jutting out of the bottom of the mess. With a fine accumulation of filth, dirt, and grime to add to its consistency, the repugnant liquid drips off the pipe one drop at a time. Our view comes to a stop... as we see it’s dripping right into a BUCKET OF SLUDGE.)
Rezin
Oh, what a captivating conundrum this merry little miracle called “life” can be...
(Not far away, REZIN is crouched near the floor, looking over the bucket like an emaciated buzzard might look over it’s own nest. His voice is about as dry and joyless as the desert that said buzzard would occupy. He raises his head to look at the camera.)
Rezin
I was all but certain I’d be going into Unleashed once again be jerking the curtain... warming up the canvas for the big stars, by getting into a pointless tussle with another Mister Sunshine or Captain Rainbow, or what have you. And then Dan Ryan drops a bombshell the day he calls me up and tells me I’m filling in for Teddy, with a one in five shot at being the EYE-SEE champ.
I don’t think anybody was more surprised than myself. Because, I mean, let’s be realistic here... what the
fuck have I done lately?
I waged a war against the elite, and my challenge was completely ignored..
I gave my support to a champion and fellow soldier who had been wronged, only to have the rest of the locker room call me weak and dependent.
I boldly challenged a former champion and Hall of Famer only seeking to earn a measure of respect, only to be convincingly beaten and humiliated.
And then came the King of the Cage tournament... a seeming perfect opportunity for someone like me, who was once, so many, many years ago, a Tag Team Champion of Empire Pro, to make a resurgence... to put himself back on the forefront of this company, for which he has dedicated so many years of his life. But as was the case, and as is ALWAYS the case, the dirty little goat bastard’s pathetic hopes were smashed by the whims of a superkick.
This is not the bottom of the barrel, ladies and gentlemen. There IS no bottom. We just sink a bit lower...
(He reaches out and dips the ends of his fingers into the bucket of black filth, and holds them up, enamored with the dark residual stain that’s left there.)
Rezin
...and we get a bit more tainted.
But we never reach the bottom... and we never break.
And I don’t honestly know what it is dwelling deep in the black and shriveled in my chest that compels me to just keep getting up and allowing myself to continue walking through this perpetual and never-ending hell of building myself up, only to be knocked down again. A sane man would have just accepted the situation and gone home to hide his face in shame... become a used car salesman, or an assistant manager at Subway.
Not me, though. I just keep playing this everlasting game of Russian Roulette with fate... putting my time and my body on the line, hoping some day I’ll squeeze the trigger and there might actually be a bullet in the chamber.
Question is... whose head is the gun pointed at? My own?
(He shrugs.)
Rezin
Ah well... at this point, oblivion would be an upgrade.
But moving on from the past, we’ve come to Unleashed... where I’ve found a place in this five-man war. But how have I earned that place? What have I done lately, other than beat up a wounded man, and piss and moan a bunch about being walked over? Did Dan Ryan grant me this opportunity to make a name for myself out of pity? Profit? Practicality, perhaps?
I can’t answer these questions... but considering my upbringing, having grown up far outside of a major metropolitan hub and being devoid of the genetic make-up of the fucking Incredible Hulk, I can definitely say that I know the TRUE value of an opportunity when one is given. So I don’t care how I got this chance... all that matters is that I’m here, and I’m making the most of it.
I’m sorry I disappoint you so much, Boogie. I wasn’t aware that by being a fan of your work as a teenager, I was sworn into a silent oath to dedicate the course of my life to spreading your message and honoring your legacy. Here I just thought you were a dopesmokin’ anti-authoritarian figure... which was all a downtrodden kid like me needed in a role model. But I guess that shtick only works when you’re eight freaking feet tall and weigh half a metric ton.
I’m not in this for your fucking approval, though... and I never was. I’ve always been my own man. I’ve been that way since the day I parted ways with Ivan Dalkichev. You’re just too ignorant to see the man that I am... and blind to the grave dangers I will bring to you in that ring.
The truth is, Boogie... you aren’t the anti-authoritarian I deluded myself into thinking you were. You’re just another Type-A Alpha asshole who is obsessed with only himself, and his image, and his philosophy.
I’m sure you’d be a great Intercontinental Champion. I KNOW you’d make Dan Ryan loads of money, all the while pledging that he’s your enemy and the rest of us are his pawns.
But that’s a prestige I must deny you of, Boogie. You see... I promised this wretched world, a long time ago, that
I would be the man to destroy the Great Dan Ryan’s glorious Empire... and I don’t intend to be robbed of that distinction. Certainly not by some ass-hat who belittles me as a failure collapsed beneath the weight of his misfortunes, all the while putting all the blame for his own problems on the owner.
So it will be you and me, Boogie.
And three other guys between us.
And should one of those other three guys kick you in the fucking kidney and bring you to your knees, and I run up and kick your goddamb head off, does that make me a bitch for taking you down while you were weak?
That’s the beautiful set-up about this match, Boogie. Chaos is the rule. None of us have eyes in the back of our head... and the game can change at a moment’s notice. It doesn’t matter if you dominated the cage in our last encounter... because dominance doesn’t guarantee victory.
For you, it’s a gimmick... yet another excuse to say that Dan Ryan is trying to hold you down. For me, though... it’s an equalizer.
I don’t have excuses to make anymore, Boogie. There’s nobody left for me to blame. Not Dan Ryan... not Anarky. It’s not about where I’ve come from or what I’ve had to go through anymore. I’m going into that ring and using every last bit of my wits and my guile to come out of there the last man standing. And if I go down... I go down.
Like a fucking MAN.
(He slowly raises a hand and takes off the shades hiding his eyes... revealing that he hasn’t been looking into the camera at all, but just a few degrees off to the left and millions of light years beyond the cosmos. Somewhere in the back of his mind, we can practically hear the last few strings of his sanity straining under the immense tension that has plagued him.)
Rezin
Just don’t be surprised if it’s a different kind of man than what you would apparently approve of...
(His eyes flick over to the camera... cold, and merciless.)
Rezin
And let’s be clear here, Boogie... I’m only singling you out because you feel the need to talk shit. I suppose it’s warranted, given the circumstances of our last meeting... but your garbage will only get you so far once that bell rings.
Fuck your vendetta against Dan Ryan... and fuck Adrian Willard’s self-contained prophecy, for that matter. If a wretch like me isn’t good enough to hold onto that Intercontinental Title, then NOBODY will have it.
(He rises off of the ground, standing up to his full height.)
Rezin
In the end, all five of us will stand in that ring like a perfect pentagram, and together we will summon a demon of violence and fury the likes of which fans of professional wrestling have never seen.
The world is eager to see who will be the last man standing... the man who will pick up the torch left behind by the current number one contender. But me? Such things are trivial. The only thing that matters to me at Unleashed...
(He grabs the handles of the bucket and lifts it up. A smile crosses his face.)
Rezin
...is WHO will walk out UNCLEAN.
(With a chuckle that sounds like gravel being crushed into an ashtray, Rezin backpedals further into the shadows, until everything we see is obscured in BLACK.)