Just Another Pretender

[Roberto Verona]

The front door of a familiar house creeps open slowly, the figure of Hannah Reed stepping through the door, a hand over her mouth as she yawns, the stresses of the day finally taking their toll as she closes it behind her. Tossing her car keys onto the kitchen counter and her handbag on the floor she walks towards the corridor leading to her room, her arms stretched outwards as she tries to strain the fatigue from her shoulders. As she gets closer to the end of the hallway she can hear frantic movement as the sound of drawers being opened and contents scattered catch her attention. Rushing towards the room, the sudden pull of adrenaline yanking her towards the sound, she flings the door open to find Roberto standing beside the bed. Clutched in his hand are a number of her garments, which he hastily jams into an open suitcase as Hannah shouts at him, trying to catch his attention. 

Hannah Reed: What the hell are you doing!? 

Verona barely responds, continuing to push clothes into the suitcase. 

Hannah Reed: Roberto! 

Roberto sighs and tosses a shirt down on the bed, turning to look at her. 

Roberto Verona: What does it look like? 

Hannah Reed: Are you kicking me out? 

Roberto Verona: I’m doing what I have to… 

Hannah Reed: And just what the hell is that exactly?  

Roberto Verona: Getting you out of my house, somewhere where he can’t reach you. 

Hannah cocks an eyebrow, her hands on her hips as she stares at Verona who doesn’t even blink. 

Hannah Reed: Excuse me? 

Roberto Verona: Hannah, I’m not in the mood for any back and forth whimsical dialogue. I am getting you somewhere safe. 

Hannah Reed: Don’t I get a say in this? 

Roberto stands up, turning to her. 

Roberto Verona: No. 

Hannah Reed: This is crazy, why are you pushing me away like this? 

Roberto Verona: I’m not pushing you away, Hannah, I am doing what I should have done weeks ago and putting this contest back on my terms. Angel is going to keep chasing anybody who I care about to try and make some sort of asinine point that only makes sense in his twisted little world. 

Hannah Reed: Roberto, I don’t want to leave you, not now, you need me… 

Roberto Verona: And I need you to be safe, so I can put Angel back in his little box and you can do your job without having to worry about being used to make a statement. 

Hannah Reed: Roberto, listen to me… 

Hannah steps forward, placing a palm on Verona’s shoulder, only to have him brush it off. 

Hannah Reed: Please… Roberto, I’ve been by your side for years and always been safe… 

Roberto Verona: No! 

Hannah steps back slightly, a little taken aback as Roberto snaps at her. 

Roberto Verona: All the way through my career in NCW, I was fighting men. Angel isn’t, a man, he’s devoid of any sort of quality that would make him one. He will hurt you, and he will do it over and over again until I relent because he has no moral compass. Do you honestly think I would willingly put you in danger? 

Hannah Reed: Of course not, but I can help! 

Roberto Verona: How? Are you going to wrestle him? 

Hannah Reed: Don’t patronise me. 

Roberto Verona: I'm not patronising anybody, I am being realistic. You can’t possibly hope to put up a fight against Angel, he’d snap you in half and think nothing of it. 

Hannah Reed: I can be there by your side, like I’ve always been, you can’t just lock me away… 

Roberto Verona: I can, and will. 

Hannah’s nostrils flare as she glares at Verona. 

Hannah Reed: I won’t let you! 

Roberto clenches a fist as the pair share an intense stare down before he turn’s, swinging his fist violently into the wall beside them. Hannah jumps back as Roberto pulls his arm back, his knuckles bloody, before swinging it in the opposite direction, pointing away. 

Roberto Verona: I will not watch one of the only people who has always stood by me end up like Jessica! You’re going, and that’s final. I’d sooner Angel tore me limb from limb than he hurt a single hair on your head. I can live with my own mortality, Hannah, I can’t live with the idea that he would seek to remind me of yours. You mean too much to me to let you become a pawn, he views you as collateral… 

Hannah begins to tremble, her arms pulled up against her as Verona breathes heavily, his arm outstretched as he heaves. A few moments pass before his shoulders begin to drop and he bows his head, staring down at the floor, muttering under his breath. 

Roberto Verona: I can’t lose you too… 

Verona turns, tossing the strewn clothes away from the case, carefully zipping it up before grasping the hand, wincing slightly. Taking a deep breath he turns back to face Hannah, who is visibly distraught. 

Roberto Verona: I am doing this for us. 

Hannah Reed: ... I… 

Roberto Verona: There’s no turning back, Hannah. I have already made the arrangements, we need to leave. Now. 

Verona takes a step towards her, reaching out his free arm to try and wrap it around her shoulder but as his finger’s brush her she pulls away, her head bowed and her demeanour distant. Standing alone, blood trickling down his hand Verona closes his eyes as our scene fades to black. 

Look at you.

Just another false prophet.

So arrogant, so presumptuous. This is all a game to you, isn’t it Angel?

Toying with a man’s dreams to fulfil a false dichotomy, hurting those he loves to make empty statements. Doing another man’s dirty business to achieve whatever twisted logic you live your life by, all to avenge some imagined slight based on baseless rumour and a rewritten history.

I never killed New Championship Wrestling. I set it free. It had grown rotten to the core, and I cleansed it. I did what had to be done, so that you could have a future, instead of being consigned to history.

You only walk this earth because I have given you a plain to exist on.

Now here you stand, promising to do the same to me. To break me and send me packing, so that you can dominate a company you cannot possibly hope to control for your puppet master will never relinquish the strings. No matter how hard you try to break those bonds, you are doomed to suffer a fate of perpetual servitude.

How does it feel to have your head buried so deeply in the sand, Angel? Can you even hear the falsehoods dribbling from your lips? Just how much of Simon’s propaganda did you swallow, I wonder. How cheaply did you sell your honour for in the vain hope of controlling a power far greater than you. How stupid are you to truly think that you are capable of being anything more than a gear in a sinister machine?

All of this talk, it’s baseless. You stand on a mound of sand proclaiming to be supported by cement, tossing platitudes and threats around. Every word you utter is completely devoid of meaning, because you have sold out any authority they had to fight another man’s war. All of… this, it’s just part of a fragile caricature playing at demon. You’re not a God, Angel. You’re just a man, a pretty piss poor excuse for one, but a man no less.

You bleed, just like I bleed.

You hurt, just like I hurt.

You can be put down, just like you’ve put me down.

You can play deities all you like, it won’t phase me in the slightest because I see you exactly for what you are. A puppet who thinks he’s cut the strings, who truly believes he has any say in his own self-determination. A man who believe he is the master of illusion, who is simply bound by delusion. I’m not going to shrink because you bark, or begin to make threats or promises based on a false discourse of neo-satanism.

I will stand in the middle of that ring, after you’ve thrown your worst at me and I will beg you for more. I don’t feel fear, Angel, fear is for people with nothing to lose, or those who are resigned to losing what they have.

I didn’t fight for three years to let some antiquated pompous jackass on a power trip pull it from under me.

Fear isn’t an option for me, however much you may believe you have the power to instil it. Am I rash enough to claim that what you’ve done has had no effect on me? No. What you did to Jess… it broke me inside. I vowed that I would always be there for her, that I would never let the serpents in this business consume her, and I failed.

I failed.

You put a whore on the throne to spite a Queen. I watch an ally crumble, realising that I was powerless to stop it.

She lost everything, so that you could simply make a point and get my attention. Now, you want history to repeat itself to achieve some feckless desire for domination, built upon your Ragnorak, supported by your acolytes who will bend to your will.

I will make you pay for it.

You prey on the prejudices of others to swell your ranks with men who would see me fall, for they think it will be for their benefit. They have no notions of what will happen once you assume the power you so desperately crave, they dare not entertain the thought that they will be dispensed with once you’re done with them.

As much as the Great Jezebel prays that this is not also her fate, deep down she knows that once you've accomplish your goals, her desolation will come. She is merely a convenience which benefits your cause, when she ceases to be, she will learn the folly of following a mad man and crawl back to the gutter, begging for another to raise her to a position she has no right to assume.

You're the man who would be King.

Yet, your coronation is premature, the crown atop your skull made of naught but paper. I still live and as long as there is a beat in my heart, a breath in my lungs and sentient thought in my brain I will not stop resisting you. This kingdom that I built, off the back of my blood, sweat and tears... it was for the benefit of everyone and you… you want to destroy it, so that you can say you were the man who slayed the dragon.

So you can build another mythology upon my corpse. A legacy created from my scalp. I'm the man upon which you will build a dynasty that will last a thousand years, an empire built upon the backs of the weak, a hell on earth where you rule supreme.

Yet, my demise is anything but confirmed, as you will so hastily discover this weekend.

I am a symbol, Angel. I am enduring. I always have been and I always will be. To you, I am a symbol upon which you dream to make a statement by destroying. To others I'm the hero who conquered a house of iniquity and cleansed it, opening the doors for those were left to beg in the gutters, feeding on the scraps they were tossed. Your great champion was exiled, along with so many others, yet I welcomed them back with open arms. I gave them opportunity.

And look at how they repaid me.

Whilst you and your vacuous little slut play Tim Burton’s Romeo and Juliet, fornicating on the bodies you have broken, I will be doing everything in my power to see you fall and to make you pay for everything you’ve done. You are a false Prince, a bastard trying to pluck the crown from atop the head of the rightful King. You may have fooled your followers, but you can’t fool me, Angel. You assume that to be in control is your right, when the only place you deserve to occupy is beneath my boot or to be on Simon’s lap, prophesizing his false platitudes.

You shall pay for your sins, Angel. Everything you did to Jessica shall seem like childsplay in comparison to what I do to you. Everything you fantasize about in your warped mind, shall pale to the misery I will inflict upon you. Every ounce of pain you have caused, I shall repay in kind. I am here to reclaim what is rightfully mine and to send you back from whence you came. I will no longer play the fiddle while Rome burns, ignorant to your malignancy. You’ve got my attention.

I shall render you redundant.

Just another whisper of a bygone age when you could snap your fingers and men’s resolve would break at your whim.

I shall resign you to history, where you belong.

I am taking back my home. You have overstayed your welcome, Angel.

It’s about time I cleansed my house and helped rebuild the lives of the victims you, and your friends, have made. I am not your victim in waiting, Angel. This weekend, your tyranny will be put to the sword, and all of your actions shall face their consequences.

I am justice.

I am retribution.

I am wrath.

Rain patters gently on the bonnet of Roberto’s car as he begins to slow the vehicle down, turning into a grandiose entrance. As he pulls towards the large iron gates the sound of gears electronically clicking into motion can be heard as they slowly swing open, allowing him to drive through. Hannah is sat in the seat beside him, her head turned away and her body pressed closely against the opposite side of the car. As the pair continue along their path past a number of ornate statues and well groomed gardens they slowly begin to grind to a halt, the gravel beneath the vehicles tyres tapping against the underside. Before them is a huge building, stretching into the dark either side of them. 

Roberto Verona: Well, we’re here… 

Roberto yanks at the handbrake, the resonating clicks doing little to break the very visible tension. 

Roberto Verona: We’ll go at your pace. 

Hannah Reed: Oh, I see, I have a choice now, do I? 

Hannah turns her head, her eyes clearly puffy and bloodshot as she stares daggers at Roberto before turning away. 

Roberto Verona: Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. 

Hannah scoffs. 

Hannah Reed: Go fuck yourself. 

Roberto Verona: Hannah… 

Suddenly, without warning, Hannah turns in her seat, almost thrusting herself forward face to face with Verona. 

Hannah Reed: No! I don’t want to hear any more crap. I’ve stood by you, through thick or thin and I’ve never asked for you to protect me from the world. You think hiding me away inside a tower is going to get rid of Angel? That he will stop just because you’ve put me in a cage? You’re kidding yourself, you’re isolating yourself, going it alone, and it’s exactly what he wants. 

Roberto Verona: It’s also what I want. 

Hannah Reed: You’re a fucking jackass! 

Roberto pulls away a little stunned. 

Roberto Verona: Excuse me? 

Hannah Reed: You heard me. I don’t give a shit what that psychopath has planned for me, I’m not afraid of him. He could do what he did to Jess and worse and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I want to be there for you, by your side, when the life slips out of that bastard's eyes, not watching it on my ass. 

Roberto Verona: This is for the best… 

Hannah Reed: No, it’s not. You’re giving him exactly what he wants; he wants to tear us all apart. He wants you all to himself, he’s a selfish, vile parasite who only cares about breaking you. He wants to force you to isolate yourself, with no support, and you’re walking right into it like a lamb to the slaughter. 

Roberto Verona: Hannah… 

She glares at him, her eyes bulging. 

Roberto Verona: Just… get out of the car. 

Furrowing her brows she prepares for another volley, but something inside seems to pull her back. She turns and grabs the door handle, pushing it wide open before stepping out into the rain. Verona shakes his head, unbuckling his seat belt before pushing himself up from his seat and out of his own door. As he steps outside he looks up at the heaven’s which continue to pour and as he lowers his head, he sees Hannah race up the steps to the front door, which is already open, before disappearing inside, leaving Verona standing alone.  

Roberto Verona: It’s for the best… 

Roberto pauses for a moment, the gears in his mind beginning to turn. 

Roberto Verona: Isn’t it? 

Sighing he shakes his head and turns, preparing to go to the trunk of the car to collect Hannah’s luggage but immediately stops in his tracks, almost walking into the figure standing behind him. Taking a moment to settle himself Verona looks down to see a familiar figure standing before him, a umbrella clutched in her hand, sheathed in an expensive leather glove. A smile runs across her lips as she brushes her long blonde hair away from her face. 

Kelly Fox: Hello, Roberto. 

Standing only a few feet away from Roberto is none other than Kelly Fox, former owner of New Championship Wrestling and Honourary President of the Imperial Wrestling Federation. A moment of silence is shared between the pair of bitter old enemies, and friends. 

Roberto Verona: Kelly. 

Kelly Fox: I trust our guest is inside. 

Roberto Verona: …yeah. 

Kelly Fox: She took it that well, huh? 

Roberto Verona: What do you mean? 

Kelly Fox: Oh come on, if she left you standing here in the rain mumbling to yourself she obviously didn’t come willingly. 

Roberto Verona: Perhaps not, but it’s for the best. Angel can’t touch her here. 

Kelly Fox: I should hope not, do you realise how many locks I would have to change around here if he did? 

Kelly laughs warmly as Verona smiles. 

Kelly Fox: She’ll come around eventually. 

Roberto Verona: Sadly time isn’t a luxury I have. I need to prepare for Angel this weekend, and whatever tricks Simon has up his sleeve. 

Kelly Fox: I’m offended, you mean after all of our history you don’t have a system in place for this automatically. 

Roberto Verona: You never hospitalised any of my family members. 

Kelly Fox: Touché. Maybe I had gotten soft. 

Roberto Verona: As much as I’d love to catch up and talk about old times, I really need to get out of here. 

Roberto steps to the side and prepares to walk past Kelly, but as he does so he feels her grips around his arm. 

Kelly Fox: Not so fast. We need to talk. 

Roberto looks down at Kelly, a little puzzled. 

Kelly Fox: Grab her bags and follow me. 

Letting go of him, Kelly begins to walk towards the main doors of her home, leaving Verona along again, this time completely confused as our scene begins to fade to black and the rain pours down.