***A little light hanging from the celing is the only source of light for the small dressing room. The room is very tiny, with no bathroom. There is one window in the room, with a cracked glass. The room looks like a small cell. A "card" table is standing in the middle of the room, around it is one chair. Sitting in the chair is a man, looking at a piece of paper that is on the table. The man, young, about 21 years old, has blond hair, which hangs down to his chin, seems in deep thought. Lifting his head, the man looks around. ***

***The man looks to be in great shape. For clothing, the man has on a black t-shit, no writing. For pants, baggy blue jeans. The room, which was in complete silence, is interupted with the sound of a phone ringing. The man, startled by the noise, "jumps." Getting up out of the seat, the man walks towards the sound. Walking over to a bag, the man hauls a cell-phone out. Opening it up, the man being to talk***

Man - Yo

***A voice can be heard on the other side***

Voice - Hello

Man - It's about time! What took you so long?

Voice - What? Took so long? What?

***The man looks at his watch***

Man - You said you'd call at seven, it is quarter to eight!

Voice - Oh, yeah, sorry! I was busy!

Man - Busy?

Voice - Oh, nothing! Hey, I called, right?

Man - I guess...

Voice - Anyway, I called Riot. You do know about your match on Saturday, right?

Man - Yeah, I got the paper, with the card on it but before we talk about that, what did he say?

Voice - About your contract?

Man - Yeah.

Voice - Still the same. He said something about all rookies getting the same treatment!

Man - Damit Jordan, I am not just any rookie!

***The "voice" has now been reviled as "Jordan."***

Jordan - I know, I know and I told him that. But it didn't change anything.

Man - Jordan, I didn't hire you as my agent to get the shitty side of the deal! I hired you to get the best and quite frankly, I'm not getting the best! Hell, as far as I am concerned, I am the best there is in the World Wide Wrestling!

Jordan - Yes but Chris, you need to realize, you're not the one calling the shots.

***The man is now known, he is Chris Cage, one of the newest wrestlers to sign with the 3WA, World Wide Wrestling Association!***

Cage - Look, get ahold of him and get my contract re-done! Hell, I am sitting in a dump! This dressing room they assigned me here at the 3WA Headquarters is a hell hole!! Who do they think I am!

Jordan - The same thing they think of every other newcomer, a nobody! Chris, you need to realize that you haven't proved anything in the 3WA.

Cage - No, that ain't even apart of it! Everybody should already know who I am, "Chris Cage," the best F'ing damn wrestler on the face of the earth!

Jordan - It will come in time.

Cage - That is one thing I don't have!

Jordan - Yeah, well, enough on your contract. What about your match? Have you found anything about James Varga yet?

Cage - Nope

Jordan - Nothing at all?

Cage - Nope, nothing!

Jordan - Chris, you can't expect to just wrestle this guy. He's probably more then just an amateur.

Cage - Don't worry about it!

Jordan - Look! You had better listen. You need to check up on this guy! What we don't need is you going out there aturday on ReVolt and picking up a loss!

Chris - "Chris Cage" and "loss" don't belong in the same sentence! It is an improper sentence!

Jordan - Chris, this ain't no time for kidding around!

Cage - I know, I know, Jeeze!

Jordan - So, your gonna do it?

Cage - Do what?

Jordan - Chris. stop playing around!

Cage - Yeah, Yeah, I'll do it!

Jordan - Thanks. Now, I have to go.

Cage - Yeah, later.

Jordan - Bye.

***"Click," Jordan hangs up. Cage hangs his phone up as well. He places his cell-phone on the table***

Cage - ***Talking to himself*** Man, that guy can be a pain! D'A-well. As long as he gets me my contract the way I want it, I don't mind! So, James Varga, what a dull name. Man, is he in for a match of his life!

***The scene fades out***