[Black and red vinyl banner emblazoned with the DEFIANCE logo. He’s got his usual armor on, a dark brown pinstripe three piece suit with a thin blood red tie. His head is freshly shorn and his mustache freshly waxed. The main in question hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of his vest and lets the eerie silence hang between him and us for just a few moments longer before stepping up and doing what the Original DEFIANT the “Bombastic” Bronson Box is want to do.]

Boxer:
As I’ve mentioned so often before, DEFIANCE Wrestling runs through my veins... it has to. I’ve spilled so many pints of blood over the years for this company something must flow within them, keep me moving forward. Every drop has been worth it. Every single one.

[He pauses to reflect on that.]

Boxer:
I’ve done awful things in my career as an entertainer, as a fighter. Perpetrated acts of cruelty and unbidden violence that in my of the human races eyes makes me… well, down right evil. I’ve never disagreed with that assessment. I’m an obnoxious, self centered, willful soul beyond most of my employers wildest nightmares. I do as I please, when I please and how I’m pleased to do it. It’s how I’ve survived. It’s how I survived my troubled youth, how I survived prison, how I survived endless tours of Europe starting out in this business slightly older and as a much much smaller competitor than most of the hulking beasts that roam the pro wrestling landscape.

[His cold, dark brown eyes meet ours.]

Boxer:
I had to be cruel. I had to be violent. I had to be… evil to carve the bloody path I’ve carved in this profession. There are no lines, there are no limits. I do what’s necessary to etch my name in the history books not as the “greatest” or the “most decorated” but as the most vicious, unhinged, must see attraction in all of sports and entertainment. I’m sculpting a legacy not of gold and glory but of blood and fear.

[He shifts gears. The intensity level slowly starts to climb.]

[He’s not looking at us anymore, we get the distinct feeling he’s singling out one person.]

Boxer:
I was the first wrestler to ever put boots to your canvas. I was the first name the fans heard announced when they took their seats for the first card you ever put on under the DEFIANCE banner. In my second match for you I pinned your soul brother Stephen Greer’s shoulders to the mat for a clean pinfall. I gave your company a World title when I hunted boston Bancroft down like a dog and dismantled his life... on and on, all for you. All for DEFIANCE.

[Bronson’s upper lip curls slightly causing his mustache to twitch like the second hand on a broken clock. He starts wringing his hands and popping his knuckles.]

Boxer:
But I’m a nuisance. Correct? I’m a headache to deal with, thus the scorn. The shameful way you avoid even speaking to me backstage. You send that ridiculous whore to deal with me. That or you wait for one of your mindless peos to get angry enough to confront me for you.  I’ve lined your pockets selling your bloody t-shirts and plastic doodads for almost eight years... eight years of being overlooked, eight years of being brushed aside, eight years of watching lesser men prance around this roster like any of them could TOUCH me…

[The Wargod takes a few small steps forward, his head cocked to the side with a quizative look.]

Boxer:
Tell me, where is Jeff Andrews? Where is Heidi Christenson? Where are all those wonderful Untouchables? What about Tom Sawyer, Christian Light, Stephen Greer, Edward White, Cancer Jiles, Boston Bancroft, Chris Cannon, Jimmy Kort, Kai Scott, Chance Von Crank, Claira St. Sure, Ronnie Long, Python and on and on and on and on, I could spend all day listing all the people who you’ve placed trust in that have LEFT you… they’re all gone... each and every one.

[He waits a beat.]

Boxer:
Hell, even you’re gone. Aren’t you? Building the DEFIANCE brand... that’s what your glorified lapdog, Ms. Evans said you were doing.

[Hurumph.]

Boxer:
You just can’t help yourself… can you Eric? You crave the spotlight. You and your ridiculous cadre of retirees. You can’t legally hog your own spotlight anymore so what do you do? You run to the nearest hole in the road independent and ply your trade. Like an absentee father, you run of to have your jollies whilst DEFIANCE… well, it takes care of itself, right? Kelly can handle anything that comes down the pike. She has Mr. Walker to protect her.

[Now? Now Bronson smiles… wide.]

Boxer:
Do have fun, Eric. Enjoy this last little run while it lasts. Enjoy the hollow adulation from fans that barely even remember who you are... because when you find the time to turn your eyes back to DEFIANCE? Back to your creation? … well. 

[He pauses to yank his pocketwatch from his right front vest pocket and checks the time.]

[His eyes meet ours one last time.]

Boxer:
The landscape might look a little... different.

Take care lad, and congratulations.

[A low guttural chuckle. Exit stage left.]

[Amen.]

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