So, Playtime is Over?
The scene fades in on Seth Black, sitting backstage at a house show earlier in the week. He has a confident look on his face, even after coming up short of the North American title, yet again; this time to the new champ, Exile. Seth is sitting in his dressing room relaxing and watching the action in the ring on the television. He laughs to himself watching to two nobodies give it their all. Suddenly there is a knock on the door, and a TFWF staff member peaks into the dressing room.Staff: Hey Seth, McMillian wants a word with you in a little bit.
Seth: About what?
Staff: He wants to know what you have to say about Exile’s comments, and about your match with Kent Clark.
Seth: What the hell are you talking about? Exile’s comments?
Staff: Umm…The comments he made about you earlier in the week. You haven’t seen his promo?
Seth: Hell no…I’d rather sit through an hour long lecture by Ben Stein. Get me the tape, quick!
Staff: Yes sir.
The staff member leaves the room and Seth gets to his feet. He begins pacing around the room, his look of confidence that he wore previously has faded. He looks as if he is in deep thought over what exactly Exile could have said that has McMillian buzzing. Seth looks to the TV again. The match has ended, now there is a commercial hyping the upcoming Monday Mayhem. They run through the card, starting with the opening match featuring Seth Black and Kent Clark. The commercial mentions the fact that Seth Black remains winless in TFWF. Seth spits on the floor in disgust, and then kicks the chair he was sitting in earlier. The chair tumbles over and flies into the wall. This startles the staff member, who at that same moment is returning with the video like Seth requested.
Seth: What are you standing there looking stupid for? Put the damn tape in!
Staff: Yes sir.
The staff member slides the tape into the VCR and pushes play. The screen is black for a few moments, and then cuts to Exile’s entrance. Seth scoffs at the sight of the fans cheering him. He catches a glimpse of the stitches in Exile’s lip, and that does bring him a moment of joy.
Seth: Ha! He looks like shit! I thought he was supposed to be Mr. GQ Smooth? He doesn’t look so smooth with those raccoon eyes and those stitches in his face, does he?
The staff member doesn’t respond, just shrugs his shoulder. Seth smacks him in the back of the head and pushes him out of the dressing room. He slams the door closed and picks up the chair that he kicked earlier. Seth sits the chair in front of the TV and sits back down to continue watching Exile waste everyone’s valuable minutes of life, that will never be replaced. Seth grows more uncomfortable as the promo goes on. Exile is obviously hitting the right buttons with what he is saying. Once Exile stops speaking about Seth, he gets back to his feet. He begins pacing around the room again; the fire in his eyes is clearly visible. Exile’s words play through his head over and over.
” you KNOW that clock is ticking down on you. You KNOW that every week, every match, every performance is very likely to be your last. You KNOW that your days among the TFWF elite are NUMBERED. You can’t do it. You can’t hang. You will not make the cut. You will NOT be elite.”
Seth shakes the words from his head. He starts pacing faster around the room. Finally Seth cannot contain his composure any longer. He can still hear Exile’s voice coming from the TV, and it drives him over the edge. Seth walks over to the TV and grabs it, throwing it against the wall. The carnage it causes doesn’t help Seth. He grabs the chair he was sitting in and begins to smash it against the already mangled television, over and over again. At that moment, Mahoney McMillian walks through the door, only to walk right back out at the sight of Seth’s rage. Seth catches McMillian leaving the room out of the corner of his eye. He storms over to the door and flings it open. McMillian freezes in his position as Seth glares at him.
MM: ….I…Maybe I caught you at a bad time…
Seth: A bad time? What the fuck do you know about a bad time?
MM: Never mind….I’ll just be go…
McMillian is cut off by Seth Black grabbing him by the shirt. Seth pulls McMillian so that they are nose to nose.
Seth: Do you want to learn what a bad time is all about? Because I can do to you, what I just did to that dressing room McMillian.
McMillian doesn’t speak. He just gulps. Seth releases Mahoney and storms back into his dressing room. Moments later he exits with his bag of personal affects over his shoulder. A Seth storm down the hallway, toward the exit of the building as the scene fades out.
Later that day…
Seth is seen checking into a local hotel in Lexington, not too far from the Rupp Arena where Monday Mayhem will be held this week. Seth chose this hotel because of the bar locates on the ground floor, and also to distance himself from the rest of the TFWF roster who happen to be staying at a different hotel. Seth needed to be alone, especially after seeing the Exile promo for himself. He was still visibly irritated from it as he waited to be checked in. He stood at the counter, watching the hotel clerk type away. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the clerk looked up at Seth. His name tag displayed the name ‘Jason.’
Jason: Ok sir, we have an opening on the 3rd floor. It’s non-smoking.
Seth: Does it have smoke alarms?
Jason: Yes sir, it does.
Seth: Oh well, I’ll just smoke out the window or something. Ok I’ll take it.
The clerk just shook his head, and acted like he didn’t hear what Seth had just said. He began typing again a few moments later looked back up from his computer screen.
Jason: it’s going to be $375, sir.
Seth: GOD DAMN! Is there a hooker in my room waiting for me? I better get some love me long time with this room!
Jason: I’m sorry sir, these are our rates.
Seth removed his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. From the inside, he removed a credit card and slammed it down on the counter. He shoved the wallet back into his pocket and shook his head in disgust. The clerk processed the card, and handed it back to Seth, along with a room key and receipt.
Jason: Enjoy your stay here sir.
Seth: Yeah, whatever…
Seth walked away from the counter and walked outside of the hotel. He pulled his pack of Newport cigarettes from his pocket and opened them, only to find one broken cigarette in the pack. Seth cursed and crumbled the pack in his hand. He began walking down the street, and pegged the crumbled pack of cigarettes at a passer-by’s head. The main cursed at Seth, who responded with a simple flipping of the bird.
After walking for awhile, Seth came to a small convenient store. He walked inside and went to the counter. He asked for a pack of Newports. While the cashier was getting the cigarettes, Seth looked down at a magazine rack. There was a magazine, featuring none other than Mr. GQ Smooth himself, Exile. Exile on the front fucking cover! Seth grabbed the magazine and tossed it onto the counter. The cashier rang up the cigarettes and the magazine, and Seth slid the same credit card he had used for the room across the counter. He took his belongings, and walked out of the store back into the street. Seth looked around, and finally spotted what he was looking for. He walked quickly over to a bench on the sidewalk and sat down. He opened his pack of cigarettes and lit one up, taking a deep drag before opening the magazine. Seth flipped to the article about Exile. They glorified him for winning the DWIWF North American Title. Called him…’The Next Big Star’ in the wrestling world. In the article it also mentioned the feud between ‘Civil Unrest’ and APB, Matthews, Dylan and himself. What Seth read next brought forth the rage once again. A piece of the article noting that Seth still remains winless. And how some wrestling insiders believe that his days in TFWF could be numbered. Exile’s words ran through Seth’s head once again.
“You KNOW that clock is ticking down on you. You KNOW that every week, every match, every performance is very likely to be your last. You KNOW that your days among the TFWF elite are NUMBERED. You can’t do it. You can’t hang. You will not make the cut. You will NOT be elite.”
Seth tears the magazine in half and violently throws it to the ground. He spits on it and stands up to even kick it away from him. Seth takes another large drag of his cigarette, but it doesn’t help at all. Seth is outraged at what is being said, apparently by everyone. Seth continues to act a fool, carrying on and cursing to himself, and other people in the area look on in…well…confusion. One man even confronts Seth. A sloppy fat bastard approaches Seth. He gets Seth’s attention with the smell of straight up whiskey escaping from his mouth. The fan points down at the magazine and begins to speak in drunken slur.
Fat Man: Hey that was a good read...HAHA! You suck!
Seth: What the fuck did you just say to me?
Fat Man: You’re Seth Black! TFWF’s…BIGGEST LOSER! I haven’t seen anyone lose as many matches as since…well…ever! HAHA! Kent Clark is gonna whoop…your….ASS!
Seth: Fuck you, you fat stupid son of a bitch. I’ll kill you…
Seth lunges forward at the man but it is instantly broken up by two police officers standing nearby. The officers separate the men, and send the fat man on his way with his family. They keep Seth with them until the man is out of sight.
Officer: Listen, I don’t care if you’re a wrestler, a boxer, an actor…I don’t care if you’re the President of the God damn United States…You don’t come around here stirrin’ up no trouble. Or you won’t make it to your little wrestling show, understood?
Seth: Are you kidding me? That fat mother bastard comes up to me running his mouth, and you’re standing here threatening me? Who the fuc…
Officer: Go ahead and say one more work, boy! We’ll take your ass down town so fast you won’t know what the fuck happened! I suggest you head on back to wherever you’re staying, and shack up for the night. Because if I see you again, you’re goin’ to jail. Now move it!
Seth bites his tongue, literally, trying to escape the words of rage from escaping his mouth. He turns and begins to walk towards the hotel, trying his hardest not to turn around and deck the officer right in his face. When Seth finally arrives back at the hotel, he knows there is only one place for him to go…the bar. He heads over to the bar, which is somewhat crowded. He manages to find a seat, and sits down. The bartender walks over and places a napkin down in the bar in front of him.
Seth: 2 shots of Jack. No! Wait…3 shots of Jack.
Bartender: Rough day?
Seth: You have…no….idea…
Bartender: 3 shots of Jack coming right up.
The bartender reached under the bar and grabbed 3 shot glasses and placed them in front of Seth. He then filled all 3 with the dark, Jack Daniels whiskey. Seth slammed the first one down, then the second…and finally the third. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking liquor, let alone whiskey. Seth’s history with any dark liquor has never been positive. But tonight…tonight he needed it. It was the only thing in the world that…possibly…could help the situation he was in right now. Just as Seth was getting ready to order another drink, the most fucked up of all things that could have possibly happened at that single moment…happened. Seth turned his head to see the drunk, fat man from earlier, sitting a few seats down at the bar. He had the magazine that featured Exile, sitting on the bar in front of him. Obviously, it wasn’t Seth’s copy of the magazine. Seth’s blood began to boil, almost uncontrollably. The bartender noticed how red Seth’s face was getting and walked over to him.
Bartender: Looks like you need another, what’s it gonna be?
Seth: 3 more…3 more…now…
The bartender filled the three shot glasses again, and watched as Seth slammed the shots down. This time the liquor almost got the best of Seth, but he pushed the nauseous feeling back down into the pit of his stomach. He wouldn’t allow it to dare come up. Seth began thinking of how to handle the situation. Should he walk up, and just break this guy’s neck? No…life in prison wasn’t on Seth’s list of things to do. There had to be something else…another way to handle the fat fuck…And then it happened. Seth overheard the fat man talking to his drinking buddy.
Fat Man: I’m gonna go take a piss; I’ll be back you son of a bitch...
Seth smiled…the first smile he managed to muster up all day. He sat back and watched the fat man walk into the bathroom. Seth got up and followed him in, making sure to keep a good distance. Seth slowly peaked his head into the restroom. The fat man was stumbling toward a stall. He stumbled half way in, the door still open, and started to piss into the toilet. Seth waited patiently for one other man in the restroom to finish washing his hands. The other man soon left the restroom, and it was just Seth and the fat bastard. As the door closed, Seth locked it behind him. He slowly made his way over to the fat man; stopping behind him…sizing him up like an animal does its prey. When the man was done pissing, he turned around and was instantly startled by Seth being there, but he had no time to respond. Seth punched the man in the nose, causing it to start gushing blood immediately. The man stumbled back into the stall and Seth continued his assault. He bashed the man’s face with his fists repeatedly…over and over again.
Seth: YOU…FAT….NASTY…MOTHER…FUCKER!!
With each word, Seth punched the man again, harder and harder. Finally, Seth stopped the assault. The man was unconscious and bleeding from every oraphace in his face. Seth looks down at the blood on his fists. He turns to the mirror and looks at himself. Blood splatter all over his clothes, the fat bastard twitching behind him on the floor. Seth was finally at peace. Nothing that Exile had said mattered anymore. It was…Euphoric. Seth washed the blood from his hands under cold water from the sink. Before leaving the bathroom, Seth spit on the fat bastard. He walked to the door and unlocked it slowly, sticking his head out to see if anyone was coming before exiting. Seth walked quickly to the elevator and hit the ‘UP’ button. Moments later the elevator door opens and Seth quickly gets inside. He hits the button for the 3rd floor, and the door closes as the elevator begins to climb.
Hours before Mayhem…
Seth Black is seen backstage with Mahoney McMillian. Seth seems much calmer than the last time we seen him. He is sporting black denim jeans, black boots, and a black TFWF t-shirt. He is standing beside McMillian, waiting to begin his interview…the same one he stormed away from days ago. McMillian seems to be much more comfortable around Seth this time around.
MM: Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, Mahoney McMillian here with TFWF superstar, Seth Black. Seth…Tonight, you face off against the…charismatic?...Superstar by the name of Kent Clark. Seth, what are your thought going into this match?
Seth: You know something McMillian…All week I’ve been pretty damn stressed out. Between Exile running his mouth, and people jabbering about how my days may be numbered…well…to tell you the truth it’s gotten under my skin. But…that’s ok. You see right here tonight, I am gonna make an example of Kent Clark. I am gonna give the ‘8-bit kid’ plenty of time to play his video games, and fantasize about being in the limelight. Because Kent, tonight…I’m gonna HURT…YOU! You see McMillian, there is no more boundaries for Seth Black. Everybody else wants to rant and rave about how…’playtime is over?’ Guess what Exile, guess what Georgie, guess what Civil Unrest…Seth Black wasn’t fucking playing to begin with. Ask Exile…Ask him how it felt to be held in the Cobra Clutch, or as I like to call it…The Blackout…while the blood from his bitch ass lips ran down his throat. Ask him Kent…Exile will tell you I’m here tonight to hurt somebody.
MM: Seth, I’m sorry to disagree with you, but that is certainly not what this sport is all about. What ever happened to fair competition?
Seth: I don’t know what that means McMillian. Like I said, Seth Black is here to hurt people, and to hurt people ONLY! I don’t care about winning. You consider the win to be whoever gets the pinfall. Not me. I consider the win to be whoever walks out of the ring at the end of the night. And constantly…week after week…I…WALK…OUT! No one…and I mean NO ONE! In TFWF can stop me…I am a fucking beast! And I will prove it week in and week out. I will take out superstars every single week, until you people get the picture. There is a new sheriff in town, and his name is Seth Black. From this day forward, the TFWF belongs to me, and I will run it how I see fit. Mark my words…No one…not one superstar in the back is safe. And more importantly Mahoney…No staff member…is safe…
Seth grabs Mahoney and delivers the ‘Domino Effect.’ McMillian is out cold, laying on the floor backstage. Seth takes it one step further and locks in the cobra clutch, which he has now made his own, under the name ‘The Blackout.’ Security is seen running down the hallway. They reach Seth and begin to pry him off of McMillian. Seth fights back, knocking down several TFWF security guards. Finally they overpower him and drag him away from the Mahoney. The scene fades out with Medical staff attending to McMillian while security drag Seth away.
