February 10th, 2013

 

[We’re backstage at the BankAtlantic Center in Sunrise, Florida for DEF TV 34.]

 

[The entrance curtain goes flying back and the bristling mustache of The Wargod goes brushing past us. Pushing past production assistants and stage hands Bronson Box is in the foulest of moods having just lost a six man tag team contest with Alceo Dentari and his Gorillas. Following close behind is Frank Dylan James and Virginia Quell. Neither of whom looking quite sure what to seeing as it was Bronson who took the pinfall from Dentari and not either of them.]

 

Bronson Box:

BLOODY MOVE! OUT OF MY DAMNED WAY!

 

[Box stomps through the halls like a madman.]

 

[People scatter like mice as the former World Champion makes his way towards his groups dressing room. A clueless young man in a black DEF road crew polo with buds stuffed firmly in his ears listening to something at full volume carrying a stack of television cables slams full force into The Wargod’s chest. The poor young kid might as well have run into a truck. Bronson stands over the boy sprawled out in a heap of cable on the concrete.]

 

[Quell and FDJ stop in their tracks, backing up a few paces.]

 

Virginia Quell:

Ohhhh, look, Hollis found a play thing.

 

Frank Dylan James:

Good. Let ‘im blow off some’uh that steam. Poor little fellers in fer a beatin'.

 

Virginia Quell:

Look at his eyes Francis, I LOVE when his eyes get like that.

 

[Frank mumbles to himself before pulling a beer from his overalls.]

 

Frank Dylan James: 

Like a dolls eyes...

 

[Boxer slowly kneels down and takes a peek at the boys DEF TV name tag.]

 

Box:

Timothy. Ye’ know Timothy I’ve… [head shake] I’ve had some rough times since comin’ back to this promotion. I’ve tried so… HARD to keep my anger in check yet people still insist on pushin’ my buttons. The management still insists of buryin’ me in the middle of the card.

 

I believe I’ve played nice long enough.

 

[His eyes dart suddenly up to the boys face, his fist grabs the scruff of his shirt. Box drags the poor soul to his feet and literally hoists the young man in the air. No DEF security, no one looking to step in as the hero. We has a collective flashback to the last time Bronson laid hands on a staff member... the network almost closed the whole promotion.]

 

[A voice behind The Wargod brings halt the to fist currently balling up behind his head.]

 

[The voice of The Socialite.]

 

Edward White:

You really don’t want to do that, son.

 

[Boxer doesn't even look over his shoulder, his eyes still locked on the terrified staffer still trapped in Bronson’s grasp.]

 

Box: [through clenched teeth]

The hell I don’t...

 

[The Socialite continues undeterred, stepping towards Bronson. He confidently walks around the perimeter of the scene, his FIST of DEFIANCE title belt slung over his shoulder.]

 

White:

You know Bronson, the second I realized this whole thing with you wasn’t an act I realized I quite like you. You’re the genuine article, aren’t you? The genuine article indeed. I thought Cancer was that for a while. Until I came to my senses... but you, my word you really are something aren’t you? You’d march through hell itself to prove yourself.

 

[Ed stops for a moment to let that digest. Bronson relaxes every so much, his eyes silently shifting around to look The Socialite up and down.]

 

White:

Do you know why I’m here, Bronson? Why I bother? So few people actually ask me that. Do you know why I fly around the country chasing this circus month after month year after year?

 

[Ed stops, stepping a little closer to Boxer.]

 

White:

For the same reason you do. Because I’m damn good at it. And it’s fun. And maybe deep down in my heart I have something to prove to these people. That I’m the finest example of man walking this little blue globe, a master of my own destiny, a billion dollar life like no other. I could own my own promotion. Hell, I could probably buy this one but do you know why I don’t? Because not only being WEALTHIER than these people but just plain BETTER gives me a damned thrill like no other. 

 

You’re also better, aren’t you Bronson Box? 

 

[Bronson’s lips curl slightly, his eyes darting back and forth between Ed and the boy.]

 

White:

For the same reason I don’t open my own wrestling company or buy Dane’s is the same reason you’re going to let that boy go and calm down. You’ve been dealt a bad hand that’s all. Danes’s chosen his champion, he’s cast us all aside and hand picked that FOOL to hold OUR world title, Bronson. We’re both better than Cancer Jiles, its just a matter of time before that belt comes home… one way or another. But. But...

 

You can’t be better sitting at home, son.

 

[After a tense few moments Bronson slowly unclenched his fist letting the boy drop down to the ground. He forgoes picking up his cables and sprints away at full speed. Bronson turns to meet Edward’s gaze. The Socialite is the first one to break the icy silence.]

 

White:

I appreciate truly genuine people, Bronson. When you’re as wealthy as I am you’re forced to fine tune your ability to pick out the pretenders, the hangers on. You have to slough off the weaklings both in body, mind and in spirit. They’ll ruin you. But you’ve got body, mind and spirit to spare haven’t you son? You’re well read with a keen mind, you have passion for your craft, just utterly brutal intensity. I don’t know why I haven’t seen it sooner.

 

[Boxer growls at White like a caged beast.]

 

Box:

Seen WHAT ye’ blasted fool.

 

White:

Quite simply my boy a partner.

 

[Bronson laughs out loud. The sound is so odd it almost peels the paint and deafens all within earshot.]

 

Box:

Partner? You an’ me? Don’t make me bloody laugh.

 

[White cuts The Wargod to the quick with one simple biting statement he knows will get Bronson’s attetnion.]

 

White:

You’re SCARED.

 

[Bronson is almost nose to nose with The Socialite in an instant. Ed doesn't budge.]

 

Box:

Say that again, boy’o. Just say that again and see the endless ocean of pain and suffering I’ll have come crashin’ round yer’ feet, Ed...

 

[Ed glares right back at the stout little Scotsman.]

 

White:

I’ll say it again without fear of retribution you’re SCARED.

 

You’ve been thrashing about this company like a spoiled child ever since Cito brought you back from the LAST little incident that got you fired. Not to mention the whole of DEFIANCE nearly shut down by the blasted network for your efforts. You’re undisciplined and inexperienced. If you can’t keep your anger in check you’re going to be cast aside and FORGOTTEN by these people! Do you understand me?! You’ll be holding tent revivals for dumb drunk rednecks... that or back in prison.

 

[Boxer’s eyes grow wide, veins start to throb on his temples but Ed bravely places his hand on The Wargod’s shoulder. Boxer’s mustache bristles with anger.]

 

White:

Bronson I understand exactly what you want, son. You don’t want your name in lights you want your name to go down in a history book, any history book as a man who did something GREAT. A man who stood atop his ideals and didn’t budge one damned inch until each and every soul respected him. You’re the kind of man this country sorely lacks, my boy. You have a gift for brutality like no other but you’re also principled, you seek knowledge, you seek a place in the world. 

 

You have no idea how much respect I have for those qualities, my boy.

 

[Edward extends his hand. Bronson just stands there looking at Ed’s face, looking for a trace on incensarity.]

 

White:

It’s time to snuff out both the figurative and quite literal cancers in DEFIANCE, Bronson. I’d like to invest in you if you’re willing to work with me. I think you and I together? Eric Dane himself couldn't stop us.

 

What do you say, Boxer? Up for a little sport?

 

[Ed’s hand doesn't budge.]

 

[Bronson is warry.]

 

Box:

Partners. I’m not goin’ te’ stand there with your boy Corozzo like some sort of attack dog. I’m Bronson Box, the greatest attraction in sports an’ entertainment. I DEFINE DEFIANCE. I expect to be treated as such. A former World champion, yer’ equal. No less.

 

[Edward just smiles.]

 

White:

Son, you’re the ORIGINAL defiant as far as I’m concerned. And I did say partners, didn’t I?

 

[Boxer grasps Ed’s hand very deliberately.]

 

Box:

So what do ye’ have in mind?

 

 

[We slow fade on the newly formed Blood Diamonds hands, their laughter echoing off the tall arena walls as the scene goes completely black.]