Scene opens to a place familiar to any wrestler. Wether they have had yet to visit it or are making another appearance, everyone in sports entertainment is familiar with what it is.

The Examination Room of a Hospital.

The room is painted a neutral cream color, mainly for calming effects. There is a green door at one side of the room. The wall to the left of it has several posters informing of Osteoperosis, liver disease and gout. Against this same wall is the examination bed. It is the standard black and has the white butchers paper covering it. The wall opposite the bed has a grey counter with numerous cupboards harboring medical supplies. On the counter are several jars contaning cotton balls, tounge depressors, lollipops, Q-tips and moist toweletts. A stainless steel sink is imbeded in the counter. On the last wall, opposite the door, are several more informatory posters, as well as a light box for viewing x-rays. The floor is tiled in a salmon color.

"Natural Wonder" Shane Jackson is sitting on the black bed, his feet dangle over the side. He is still wearing his wrestling tights from Thursday Blast (Tequila Sunrise). He has no shirt on. Injuries are evident on his body. His left forearm is heavily taped, along with his right hand. There is a massive bruise running from the middle of the right side of his ribcage up to his shoulder. It is a purpleish color. There are several other small bruises scattered around the rest of his body. On his face he has a band-aid on edge of his left eyebrow.

He sits there for a few seconds before the doctor comes in to the room. Eventhough this is Mexico the doctor is American.

Doc: Well Mr. Jackson I've got the results back from the tests and the x-ray. Shall we have a look at them?

The question unnescessary, of course he wanted to see the results.

The doctor pulls open the top of a manilla envelope and pulls out a couple of x-rays. One of Shane's chest, there are also ones of his arms, legs, abdomen and skull. The doctor sticks all of them up on the light box and turns it on. Shane sits there paitently as the doctor looks closely at the x-rays, and occassionally looks down at his clipboard.

Doc: Hmmm

The doc looks at the clipboard for a few minutes, then takes a very close look at the x-ray of Shane's skull.

Shane: Alright. What is it? What's wrong? Am I too injured to wrestle this week? Are you going to make me sit out the PPV, stay in bed for a month, drink only chicken noodle soup and not physically exert myself? Huh. What?

The doc looks at Shane quizzically for a second. A smile crosses his face. He covers his mouth to hide a chuckle.

Doc: You're overinflating things a little bit there Shane. It's really not that bad.

Shane: Hah, right. What's the real story. C'mon, what? Can I never return to the ring? Did I get terminal cancer from eatin' every CWF finisher? Huh?

Doc: Shane...there is nothing wrong. No broken bones, no concussions, no ruptures and no internal bleeding. Other than a few bruises and cuts you are just as good as ever.

A smile shoots across Shane's face. He picks up the shirt laying next to him on the bed.

Shane: Well Doc. I thank you for giving me some GREAT news.

Shane hops off the table and quickly leaves the room.

He comes out of the exam room and starts heading down the hall. He passes sickly people in wheelchairs and leaning against the walls. He pays little attention to them. Why should he? He got the news HE wanted.

At one point he passes a woman laying on a bed. She has a blanket pulled up to her chin. There is an IV line running under the blanket and into her arm. She has a very pale complexion and her eyes are bloodshot. She keeps beggin passers by to help her. As Shane passes she begs him to help her and reaches her arm toward him. Shane glances at her. He swats her arm away and keeps walking.

Shane: Get away from me!

Shane reaches the end of the hall. He turns the corner and heads toward the elevators. As he reaches the elevator the doors open. Several people step out, and Shane steps in, alone. He looks out into the hall as the doors begin to close. Suddenly he hits the "open door" button. He stands looking out at the people in the hall.

Shane: Look at you! You're all sick! It's disgusting! I've went through more in ONE NIGHT, than any of you have in a lifetime. I felt every kind of pain there was. But look at me! I'm still here! Under MY own power! I'm not poppin' pills to ease away what my body is feeling. I'm not dancin' with Jim Bean or Johnny Walker! I keep myself going, nothing else.

Shane slams the "close door" button. The doors glide shut.

Moments later there is a ding. Shane steps out of the elevator in the lobby.

Shane: Well CWF, you really showed me. You come out and take apart the ICWA, then each one of you proceed to let me taste your finishers. From the Seraph Streach to the Decapitator, the Dragon's Wrath to Your Fucked, The Last Rites to two Deus Ex Machinas. It was like riding a tidlewave into the rocks, over and over and over, then being washed up on the beach battered and bruised. You finally realised that the ICWA isn't just going to go away. That we aren't gonig to get board and pack it up.

Shane pushes through the overcrowded waitingroom.

Shane: As much as you think you damaged me, you didn't. I'm still well enough to fight, and I'm well enough to show you exactly what I'm capable of. I know why you focused on me. I was within minutes to taking the only prize you're willing to come together to defend. That was one. Two, I've made a name for myself in the CWF, as odd as that seems, it's true. I've put more hours into helping the ICWA in this conflict than anyone else. I've already become more hated in the eyes of the CWF than anyone else. Your roster, standing against me, allowed you to take back a piece of the pride you've lost.

Shane reaches the exit. He shoves his way through and out into the sun.

Shane: Hold onto that pride, tight, with all your fingers. I'm not going to let the waves subside on what happened. You haven't stopped the Cleveland Express, yet.

The sun shines down on Shane, he squints to see. He carefully crosses the emergency lane and moves out into the parking lot.

Shane: Jeckel, this Thursday, for a short time, we get to set aside the CWF and face each other as we were meant to.

Shane stands out in the parking lot, as if waiting for someone.

Shane: This match has been a long time coming. We will have a chance to show a world wide audience what TRUE champions are made of. When it comes to matters outside the federation, Jeckel, I will stand with you. I would help in anyway possible. But when it concerns things internal to our federation then I stand opposite you.

A white Lincoln Continental drives into the far side of the parking lot.

Shane: I'm continuing my walk on the Pathway to the Stars and you are the next bridge to cross. Blast is going to crown the next ICWA Champion. ME. I'm going to raise that title in the air on Thursday, and I'm going to wear it with the dreams of the ICWA into War of the Worlds. The High Ride's comin' around Jeckel, get ready to take your seat.

The Lincoln pulls up in front of Shane. The driver's window rolls down to reveal MaXx Graves. Shane rounds the car and get in the front passenger's seat. The Lincoln runs to the end of the lot and turns around. It reaches the exit and pulls out to the street.

The scene wipes to black.

OOC:
My deepest condolences to SOF and his family and to the family of Josh Brady and all his friends in the CWF.