Few movie theaters stand forever. There's always new ones being built as the old ones are converted to bingo halls, or torn down and made into parkinglots. Ocasionally an old theater gets lucky. It's claimed as a historical landmark and saved from extinction. It's equipment is preserved so it can show old B-movies, silver screen classics, cult favorites and Oscar winners, movies that transcend time. Golden Age theaters saved from extinction and allowed to chase their fleeting past by showing the movies their history was built on.

A typical Sunday evening for most people. Winding down the excitement of the weekend, preparing for the beginning of the work week, spending the last few hours with their family before they have to head back to the rigors of real life. While most people spend their Sunday nights at home a hand full of others venture out, maybe to a cafe or coffee shop or even to the movies.

Shane Jackson sits alone in the theater. His coat is tossed over the chair next to him. Shane's feet rest on the back of the empty chair in front of him. In one hand he holds a large cup, filled with Coke, in the other hand is a box of Milk Duds. Shane's eyes are transfixed to the action on the screen. His attention never waivers, not even for a second. On the screen a Clint Eastwood classic plays, not one of the famous 'spagetti westerns' that launched his career but another one, one that cemented Clint as real tough guy. Harry Calahan....Dirty Harry.

Shane: Why do people like Dirty Harry so much? It's not because he's a cop but because he dispenses justice, the kind of justice everyone wants. He makes people pay for their crimes with more than just jail time. It's a pity that in reality this doesn't happen. Even in the wrestling world few people can compare to the Renegade that Dirty Harry is.

On screen Clint belts out the phrase that's become a standard in movie history.

"You've got to ask yourself one question. Do I feel lucky? Well do ya....punk."

Shane: I guess congratulations are in order for Paul Sterling. He's made another deal and its looks like TJ Raven is now part of the Cash Money Mafia. Strange how quickly things lose their edge. When Matt Thornhill jumped aboard the CSM ship, I have to say I was surprised. When Phag Kneegrow joined up it made me take notice, but with the latest edition I could really care less. Nothing against TJ, it's just that with Paul announcing nearly every week that there's going to be a new addition to his group the excitement becomes less and less. Seems everytime Sterling's cell phone rings it's someone else being assimilated into his faction. With all the time Sterling spends on the phone and in press conferences it makes me wonder. Where's his life? Sure it's great to be raking in the cash and building a bigger corporation but what's the point if you've got no life to extend it to. His life revolves around the spotlight. The second he sees a camera he has to be on it, the instant a mircophone is set up he has to be behind it, any time his cell rings he has to answer it. What kind of life is that? I know Sterling's going to justify it by claiming it's all part of the business, that I'm too old to understand and that he's the new generation. If living your life accoring to the laws of business is the way the world works then he can have it. He can keep his deals and contracts, his limo's and high priced hookers. If having a life means fulfilling a contract then it's not worth it.

Shane tosses a handfull of Milk Duds in his mouth. After a few moments of chewing he continues with what he was saying.

Shane: Recruit anyone you want Sterling. Buy the whole roster, bring Mike Manson out of retirement, get Travis Smith on an exclusive deal, put Aristotle Wilde back in the ring, you won't impress me. In the last few weeks I've only cared what you've had to say because you try so hard. You want people to pay attention to you and throw their money and virgin daughters your way. You'd give your stamp of approval to anything as long as you make a profit out of it. I bet a dump truck full of cash is driven up to your house every other day, isn't it Paul? You got a hundred different bank accounts all over the States, holding company in Switzerland and a small business in the Cayman Islands, right. You got the world cornered and the markets looking to you for where they're going next. You got it all, or do you? Seems you're still missing the Pro Title. So go sign your contracts and deposit your coins into you're piggybank. When your done playing the stockmarket I'll be here, with the Pro Title, waiting.

Burn him Shane, burn him to the ground.

For a fleeting second the dark thought creeps into Shane's mind.

Shane: Perhaps CSM isn't the biggest force in the CWF. Enjoy the show Paul, I'll be waiting for your next press conference.

On the movie screen the movie's finished up. Eastwood's killed all the bad guys, he's solved the crime and he's said all his lines. Credits begins rolling as the lights in the theater come on. Shane pulls his jacket off the chair next to him and slips it on. Leaving his Coke and Milk Duds in his seat he stands and walks up the isle way and out the doors. Shane's image disappears as the theater doors slowly pull closed behing him.