“Wrestling’s a funny, cyclical business.  Everyone always needs to have some sort of... credibility crutch.  Five years ago, it was ‘legitimate mixed martial arts training’, and five years before that, it was ‘trained in the Hart Family Dungeon.’  Now, for some reason, some possibly fw-centric reason, it’s ‘I own ten mansions, your argument is invalid.’”

“I learned how to play the role, sort of.”

[Cold open on the man they call the Ace of Heels.]

[Kai Scott’s customary trench coat is folded and draped over his shoulder.  His black slacks and crimson-red muscle shirt are as they usually are.]

“Edward White and I get along fairly well, in fact. His rise from his days as The Hobo to become a financial ubergod remind me of my own rise from comedy relief sidekick to a bunch of good guys, to feared, despised evildoer supreme.  Our differences of opinion when it comes to power make for interesting conversations.  I like that.  Conversations with Mr. White are thought provoking.  And he and I are both aware that either of us could make the other’s life supremely miserable if we so chose.”

“Therefore, the both of us knowing the value of professional respect, we treat each other with it.  And to a lesser extent, each other’s allies.  Bronson Box’s words about the Untouchables were looked past, but they were heard - and not appreciated.  Yet, what would I have to gain by going to bat for a stable that imploded against a man who has nothing that I want?”

[Scott is facing not quite straight ahead, maybe a 15 degree angle, like he’s too cool to look at the camera or something.]

“I explained a bit of my personal philosophy whilst enjoying a 48 oz porterhouse steak at Peter Luger of New York, but I’ll expand on it.”

“Power is winning.”

“And winning is winning.”

“People compare me to a chessmaster, or a puppetmaster, and they’re not completely wrong, but they’re short-sighted - incomplete.”

[Scott steeples his fingers together.]

“I don’t care if the game is chess, or football, or Magic the Gathering, the truth is that the game is the game.  If you sign with a wrestling promotion, you’re playing the game until the day you change your address so your former colleagues can’t find you and burn all your merchandise so you never have to remember.  People like Tom Sawyer and Eugene Dewey - good kids, those - play by the rules and when they win, they consider that their hard earned reward.”

“However, people like myself and Edward White, we play long term.  Every individual match within a feud, every feud within a promotion, every promotion within a circle, it’s ALL part of the same game.  And the way to win is to declare it convincingly enough that other people believe you.  The truth is, it doesn’t matter what happens.”

[He raises his hand, gesturing off to the side.]

“Look at Dan Ryan. He’s done a bunch of things in feds I’ve never heard of, I can’t think up their acronyms without looking them up, and I’m not going to interrupt myself to do that. So far in Defiance he’s been overwhelmingly mediocre - failing out early in the tournament, barely beating a rookie less than half his size to win the FIST and then not doing anything with it.  But he talks convincingly enough for Eric Dane to buy every word he sells, and so he wins.”

[A nod, a small smile, too vague to be interpreted either as congratulations or mockery.]

“Tom understands better than he thinks he does.  In fact, he’d be horrified to know how close to me he already is.  He flings himself about, approaching every villain in the game with a wide open mouth, and it drives shortsighted people like Heidi Christenson and, apparently, Dan Ryan, absolutely mad. And the best part is, he’s entirely genuine.  He hates injustice.  And he lacks the self-awareness to do a perfect job at bad-guy-baiting, which, ironically, makes his job perfect.”

“Eugene Dewey, on the other hand, is a perfect example of why the short sighted types never succeed.  After two wins over Bronson Box, a sorta-win over Claira St. Sure, and coming pretty close at winning the Defiance World Title, he still hasn’t done anything.  Eugene follows the rules of the small games.  And he plays well, he wins many of them, most of them.  But he never takes his eyes off the board.  Never looks up.  He plays chess, he can think moves ahead, but he’s never even tried to think games ahead.”

“And Christian Light.”

[Scott turns, facing fully forward.]

“Well, what I’ve been saying to everyone here, in plainer words than usual, is what I’ve been telling him all along.  Look ahead, think about what you’re doing. His revenge on me, his seventy suplexes, his near squash match, got him nothing. No ladder war - no FIST - not even something in the Trios division - just a grudge match against a former friend.”

“Why, he couldn’t have gotten less for his effort if he’d been wandering around pointlessly in a marijuana-saturated haze.”
 

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