JUST OUTSIDE BALLYHOO BREW, 12/30/20

The DEFy Awards Show has all but wrapped up and now most of the DEFIANTS have started to get back out into the cold-ass New Orleans Winter night to get back home or move on with the pre-New Year’s Eve plans. 

One such DEFIANT was regretting his choice of shoes. While loafers are stylish AF (if you were to ask loafer-wearers, anyway) they don’t offer the most protection from cold especially when one picks the wrong socks. The fuck does this have to do with anything?

Well, Oscar Burns’ feet were cold. But as he shivered under his peacoat, he had his DEFy Award for Match of the Year in hand and his travel bag over the shoulder. Looking at the trophy did take the sting out of things a little bit. 

He stared out into the cold, dry night and looked back at the trophy. This right here should be the proof that he is all that he said he is. But the person that won that trophy for his hard work isn’t the same as the person that’s holding it right now. At least, that’s the talk that he’s heard ever since that match.Then he had to go back and watch his match against The D. Nothing taken away whatsoever from Derek Edwards. The man behind the goofy moniker knew what he was doing in that ring. He found an opportunity and he won. 

Simple as that. 

But was it really?

Deciding he’s had enough of this introspection nonsense, Oscar scoffs to no one and starts to walk back out to somewhere where he doesn’t have to put on a plastic smile for the cameras to show everything is all right. But when he gets to the sidewalk… 

“Hey! We need to talk, Oscar.”

So much for THAT. 

Oscar turns and comes face to face with his protege and best friend, “Bantam” Ryan Batts. Batts has had a couple drinks in him during the show, but he’s mostly sober enough to know he needs to talk to him. 

Oscar Burns:
Hey, Ry… what you do need, GC?

Ryan takes a heavy breath… a REAL heavy breath. 

Ryan Batts:
Oscar… I need you to pull your head out of your ass. 

Oscar is practically taken aback by what he’s hearing, raising a lone eyebrow. 

Oscar Burns:
Er… come again?

Batts looks up unafraid. 

Ryan Batts:
You know what I mean. Morrow. Why are you STILL entertaining that asshole?

Oscar Burns:
Now? You… you wanna do this now, Ry?

With a growl, Ryan inches closer to his mentor. 

Ryan Batts:
No. I don’t want to do this at all, Oscar. During this whole show, I’ve been doing everything I can NOT to have this conversation with you. But when Lindsay went off on Morrow when you guys went up there and you didn’t say anything…

An accusatory finger is at Burns.  

Oscar Burns:
...You’re still considering his offer, aren’t you? You’re actually thinking of joining that dirtbag and his group of puckered assholes?

Oscar is about to turn on his heel and walk away. 

Oscar Burns:
Go home, Ryan. You’re munted. 

But he barely gets two steps towards the sidewalk. Batts runs in front of him, both arms out. 

Ryan Batts:
Munted?

Oscar Burns:
You Yanks call it “drunk.” Go home. We’re not doing this now. 

Ryan Batts:
Oh, hell no. We’re doing this. If you’re not gonna talk, then you’re sure as hell gonna listen. 

Staying in his spot, he looks to brace himself from whatever lashing is coming his way. 

Ryan Batts:
You lost a few matches. So the hell what? So you’re feeling sorry for yourself? At least you’ve HAD success. It took me this entire last year to find my footing. I’ve had shots at the FIST and the Southern Heritage Titles and I failed each time. You think I gave up and sold my soul to the first asshat who gave me attention? No. I didn’t. I learned from you, Oscar. I learned from those experiences. I learned how to better myself inside that ring and out. How to stand up for myself so I’m not just “guy painted up like a tiger” just to get a spot on the damn card. 

He taps Burns. 

Ryan Batts:
You don’t need Morrow. You NEVER needed Morrow.  You’ve gone through this before once with Scott Stevens, remember? Kendrix? Stevens puts you out for three months, you come back, Kendrix screwed you over so HE could get the FIST. You took it on the chin, you came back, stood your ground and put in the work to get that title back. You got through Stevens and sent Kendrix packing from DEFIANCE for a year. You can do it again. You...

He stops talking when Burns… laughs. Ryan does not. 

Ryan Batts:
Oh… this is pretty funny now, huh?

Oscar Burns:
Yeah, nah. You’re such a dag, Ryan… I’m laughing that you have the audacity to talk to me like that considering what YOU’VE been doing lately. 

Ryan Batts:
What *I’ve* done? Are you sure YOU aren’t munted?

Burns fumes. 

Oscar Burns:
You’re an adult and you don’t need my permission. You can train with whoever you want… but you went and trained with Lindsay while I was FIGHTING her for four months. We’re square now, but a heads up there would have been nice if you wanted to train elsewhere and I didn’t have to find out ON TV from HER. 

Ryan Batts:
Oh, hell no… you’re mad about THAT?

Oscar Burns:
Oh, no, not JUST that… then you have the nerve to question MY decisions, GC? Especially when YOU just went out there and attacked Dex Joy unprovoked! Who the hell taught you to do that? Cause I sure didn’t. 

Batts gets quiet for the moment and now Oscar gets to be on the verbal offensive. 

Oscar Burns:
Yeah, that’s what I thought. Then you went and broke your promise. You’re seeing red after what Tyler did to you and Jackie and you never let that go, did you?

Ryan Batts:
Like how you let go of your own personal vendetta with Scott Stevens?

It takes a few seconds for both to stop talking. 

Oscar Burns:
Don’t go there, Ryan. He. Injured. Me. Took a ring bell to my throat and for a bit, I might not have been able to speak again. Wasn’t keen at all. 

Ryan Batts:
Well, lucky he didn’t so we could be here having this damn conversati--

The last syllable doesn’t come out because Burns drops his trophy and shoves Ryan back toward the Ballyhoo Brew’s front doors. 

Oscar Burns:
Shut it. NOW. 

Batts steps back and SHOVES Oscar even harder that he goes flying up against one of the windows! All faces conversing in the restaurant after the massive awards show see the fight as Ryan now has Burns under his neck with Burns trying his best to fight his way out from the pitbull-like grip of his partner. 

Ryan Batts:
You’re a fucking idiot if you trust him!

Oscar Burns:
I SAID SHUT UP! NOW!

Burns returns the favor and shoves Batts away again, then grabs him by his shirt and looks ready to throw his protege to the ground. Ryan starts grabbing an arm but a surge of people come rushing out! Uriel Cortez, Minute, Lindsay Troy, Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas and several other lookers-on come out. 

Troy and Dam take hold of Oscar while big Uriel steps in and has to forcefully pull Batts away. 

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas:
Nah, boss, we ain’t doing this here. 

Burns tries to get out of Dam’s grip, but it’s not helping. Troy gets between then. 

Lindsay Troy:
Hey! Enough! Now!

Minute watches his massive tag team partner Uriel help security get Batts away. 

Uriel Cortez:
You heard the lady. You’re done. 

Ryan Batts:
GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF ME NOW, URIEL!

Batts rips himself away from the giant, then points at Burns. 

Ryan Batts:
Don’t come crying to me when he fucks you over, Oscar. 

Burns still struggles against Dam and a few more members of security getting between the two, then watches Batts storm off down the sidewalk and eventually out of sight. It takes a few moments, but when Burns finally composes himself, Dam lets go of his shirt. Uriel Cortez and Minute look over to Oscar then start talking amongst themselves trying to make sense of what they just saw.  

Lindsay Troy:
What the hell was that about?

Burns looks over to Troy and sighs. 

Oscar Burns:
Nothing… feeling stroppy. 

Lindsay Troy:
No Kiwi-isms. What’s going on?

Oscar watches his protege disappear into his car and drive off. As it speeds out of the parking lot and into the cold night, the troubled Kiwi gets quiet. 

Oscar Burns:
Ryan has some things he needs to figure out.

Before anything else can be said, he grabs his now-scuffed DEFy Award off the ground and follows his protégé's example…

Heading back out into the night.

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