[We’re backstage in some arena somewhere in these great United States.]

 

“WATCH YOUR TOES THERE, PAL!”

 

[A roadie with a big black road case on tiny metal wheels goes rolling by with big red letters on the side spelling out DEFIANCE WRESTLING for the whole world to see. A dressing room door in the background swings open once the case has passed and out walks the familiar silhouette of the Scottish Strongman, Bronson Box. This isn’t the former World champion however.]

 

[This Bronson Box has yet to taste DEFIANCE gold. He’s yet to even tangle with the man he takes that gold off of, “The Spoiler” Boston Bancroft. This is a Bronson Box on the eve of a defining moment in his career. One singular action that would set him on a path towards his current standing as, as he puts it, the single greatest attraction this sport has ever seen.]

 

Bronson Box: [under his breath]

Blood nonsense... *grumble* cretinous scum... hold ME back, disgusting wretch.

 

[As soon as Bronson turns around he’s face to face with The King of Pain.]

 

[Greer’s massive arms and chest nearly ripping through his faded black Nick Hades t-shirt. The legendary member of Team Danger just flashes a toothy grin.]

 

Steve Greer:

What’s up, Boxer? Great TAG TEAM action out there, hotshot.

 

[Bronson his stands there silently with his suit coat draped over his arm along with a small black bag containing his gear. He eyeballs Greer down then back up meeting him eye to eye.]

 

Steve Greer:

Cute. Listen kid, I have a question.

 

[Bronson doesn't move a muscle. Not one. Boxer just raises a single eyebrow as though to ask “oh, is that right?” Greer’s light jovial tone starts to wane a bit, he takes a small step forward. His jaw tightening as he comes a few inches from Boxer’s already puffed out chest.]

 

Steve Greer:

Are you just about done sittin’ at the kiddie table with that never was FUCK tag team partner of yours? Because there’s one direction Evan Hurley is headed and it’s the same direction his “violent” ass has been headin’ since I met the fucker twelve years ago. NOWHERE! Are you that fuckin’ desperate to not only LOOK like a damn fool...

 

[Steve flips Bronson’s red tie from inside his vest. Bronson’s face twists into a sour scowl as he pushes back against Greer, chest to chest.]

 

Steven Greer:

… but fuckin’ ACT like one too? Because that’s all you are if you think tag teamin’ with that born to be deadweight. Ask his cousin, the second he dropped his ass back in the old original NeWA that fucker shot right up the card. World Cruiserweight and North American titles first rattle out the damn box. You and he couldn't be more different. Burke was a twitchy little martial arts nerd and you’re... well, you. Save for two things you two fucks have in common. One, you’re both fuckin’ oblivious to how dangerous you could be with the right motivation. And two, you were both saddled with that sad sack fuck Hurley for too goddamn long.

 

[Greer chuckles.]

 

Steve Greer:

Burke dropped him. And he’s related to the fuckin chump so what’s stoppin’ you? You don’t owe that fuckin’ guy SHIT, kid. I heard about where you came from, what you’ve been through and I saw first hand how you kicked the door in around here and took your fuckin’ spot on this roster. I respect that shit, Bronson.

 

[We get an obviously involuntary eyebrow raise from the Bombastic Strongman.]

 

Steve Greer:

But most importantly I respect the fact you do what you say. You’ve shown that shit on the stick and in the ring. But “I’m here to DEFINE your company, sir.” … [inching a little closer] where the fuck did that shit go? Because all I’ve seen is your ass out there PLAYIN’ with that fuckin’ asshole out there. He brought you to the dance, good for him. When exactly do you win that world title carrying his ass around, hmm?

 

[This is from a man who’s made a career off of the almost lost art of tag team wrestling. For all his faults, all his backroom dealings, all his political connections this is still one of the deans of the college of pro wrestling here. No matter how hostilely, Bronson’s listening to every word.]

 

Steve Greer:

Listen, I have a little proposition for you, boy’o.

 

[Steve reaches behind him and pulls out a black t-shirt that had been tucked into the back pocket of his jeans and grips it tight.]

 

Steve Greer:

I’m gunna’ give you a chance to own up to your word, Bronson. I’m gunna’ ask you to step up and DEFINE DEFIANCE. Just like you said when I first laid eyes on you, lookin’ Eric Dane right in his beady little eyes.

 

It’s put up or shut up time, Bronson Box.

 

[Greer smiles as he hands the black t-shirt over to Box.]

 

Steve Greer:

It’s an extra large, didn’t know what size you took.

 

[The shirt has the simple red Hydra skull and snake logo printed on the front.]

 

Steve Greer:

We’re doin’ this shit right. DEF is goin’ big time. We want you involved, Box.

 

[Finally a word from the Strongman.]

 

Bronson Box:

We?

 

Steve Greer:

You know who fuckin’ we is, he...

 

[Bronson cuts the King of Pain off with scowl.]

 

Bronson Box:

HE... is a pompous ass with an opinion of himself so over inflated it begs scientific observation. So HE makes a fool out of one of the members of his own roster and now I’m supposed to step up and be a good little soldier and follow the great and powerful Oz around like some sort of bloody attack dog?

 

Has that role been a BOON for you over the years, Stephen?

 

[Greer is all business now. No half smile, no jokes. This is the King of Pain in all his scowling beastly glory.]

 

[Box smiles a satisfied smile. “Gotcha.”]

 

Bronson Box:

But who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?

 

[Greer just shakes his head.]

 

Steven Greer:

We ‘aint holdin’ yer’ hand, neither. Drop the tattooed freak and you got a seat at the head of the table.

 

[Greer starts off down the hall.]

 

 

Bronson Box:

Amen...