Doing The Right Thing

[Nick Knight]

{The room is pitch black and the only sound is that of a man breathing. Quietly the man begins to speak.}

Learn enough about the world you will realize that every culture has some sort of chaos deity in its mythology. The Babylonians had Tiamat, the Egyptians had Apep, and the Greco-Romans had Hydra of Lerna. Get away from the East you’ll find the Fomorians in Celtic folklore, Norse mythologies Jörmungandr, the Aztec’s Cipactli, and the Lakota’s belief in Unk Cekula. Hell, the Hebrews even have the Leviathan that appears in at least four books of The Bible.

{The light comes on revealing a pair of snake-skin boots.}

The funny thing is that despite being separated by half a world and multiple millennia the creatures are all sea serpents, snakes, dragons, or crocodiles. A group of badass lizards that make Godzilla look like a little bitch that are hellbent of sending the world crashing back into primordial chaos, which is exactly what one egotistical fuck is trying to do with professional wrestling.

I’ll be damn if I’ll allow that man to send this great sport crashing back into the days of ripping off local marks at fucking carnivals. There are way too many talented men and women working around this world for there not to be somewhere for them to ply their trade and that place needs to be IWF. That is why I am going to do everything in my power to skin the snake and make damn sure that nothing about this business changes.

{Slowly the camera pans up over a pair of black leather pants and a faded t-shirt before landing on the face of Nick Knight.}

A few weeks ago when I felt Roberto Verona’s knee nearly shatter my face I knew that something needed to be done. A paranoid man that claims to have secret agents around every corner like he’s Heinrich fucking Himmler can be nothing but bad for the sport of professional wrestling. I just wasn’t sure what the best way of dealing with my problem was until I remembered that The Roulette was right around the corner.

The man that wins The Roulette will walk out of Florida knowing that for the next two months, they are playing with house money. They have the luxury of knowing that their spot in the main event of Night of the Immortals is set in stone and all they have to do is prepare for whoever happens to be The IWF World Champion. Can anyone think of a better way for me to stick to Roberto Verona than to win the championship from the company that he claims to be so proud of and walk right out the door with it?

{Nick pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sigh.}

When I resigned last year I thought that it meant that IWF would be the last wrestling company I would ever work for. I was even making plans to move into a backstage role once my time as a professional wrestler came to an end, but that all changed when I was jumped by four masked goons in the center of the ring because I had an opinion, which after twenty-five years in this business I think I’ve fucking earned. Sadly the fragile ego of a billionaire keeps him from seeing things that way.

That is the reason why the day after Night of the Immortals I am forced to do something that breaks my heart; sell any championship that I might possess to the highest bidder. I know that this decision is going to hurt a lot of people that I’ve come to respect at first, but I believe that cutting out the cancer that is this new IWF in one quick slice of the knife will save professional wrestling for everyone.

I’m not crazy enough to think that all of this is going to be a walk in the fucking park. A match like The Roulette is so goddamn unpredictable because there are about a million variables: the number you enter, how many people are in the ring when you enter, who’s in the ring when you enter, how many of those guys are a part of Verona’s Legion, etc. You don’t have to be a graduate of The University of Michigan to know that is some hard fucking math.

{‘The Hollywood Butcher’ stands and begins to pace back and forth.}

I know that this is going to be damn near impossible to pull off, but just imagine if I could. Nick Knight winning The IWF World Championship at Night of the Immortals would be life saving for me, but more importantly that belt will be a life line or all of professional wrestling because I will be the biggest swinging dick in the entire industry and I will use that power to prop up every person that loves nothing more than climbing between those ropes in front of cheering fans, and it doesn’t matter if it’s fifty or fifty thousand.

{Knight perches on the edge of his chair with his leg nervously bouncing.}

Just imagine for one second a world where the wrestlers were in control instead of a bunch o greedy fucking promoters. A world where the only thing that matters is going out and having the best fucking match possible and being paid a fair wage for it. Most importantly all of the wrestlers would be actual employees of the companies that they work for and not just contracted workers.

I know that Roberto is very proud of the things that he does for the talent, and I’ll give the devil he do because it’s a huge step up from twenty-five years ago. I just can’t help but think that this business being run by wrestling co-ops would make it possible to give talent even more benefits. Most importantly we’d never have to worry about our boss almost fucking blinding us with a knee to the face because we’d all fire him the second he fucking tried it.

No one in the locker room can actually be happy living under the thumb of Roberto Verona just waiting to be his next victim. I don’t think there’s one goddamn person the enjoys coming to work and having to tiptoe around all day out of fear that Legion is lurking around the next corner. Just look at the faces of the staff and you will see how badly they long to once again be free of the modern day Nero.

All that I know is that come High Stakes I’m going to do everything in my power to leave the building as The Roulette winner. I want to be able to look my son in the eye and tell him that win or lose I did everything I could to win that match. This is not about pride for me because that was taken from me the second that knee connected with my face. This is about doing the right thing for once in my miserable fucking life.

{The scene fades to black.}