Tuesday, December 24, 2002.12:34 P.M.

~~They laughed at him. They told him that he was over the hill, no longer champion material…and the only reason that Holliday and Sensation probably let KMD rejoin their IWF was to humor the old man…make him feel like he belonged.It was the fed he built, after all. They nodded in unison as KMD made his way to the ring with a demented look in his eyes, and they nodded to his drunken antics. They looked at him, and told him that he could come back, that he belonged here.~~

~~We slowly fade to a washed-out gray screen, tiny imperfections on the screen, reflections of light and beams that run wild through the curtains, indicate that we’re not looking at just a screen, but the shot of a room, cracked and faded plaster walls, sometime early in the morning. Loud snoring cuts through the silence as we fade in.~~

Grrrrrugh.
~~But the reality that they found was much different from what they thought. Yeah, he was old and beaten up, yeah he was a little demented and off his rocker, and, yeah, he was definitely prone to drunken antics. But what they did find that they didn’t anticipate was that KMD was back and better than ever, willing to put in the long hours and hard work not usually expected of a man his age. What they found was that KMD was most definitely championship material, perhaps even the best they had on their roster…the guy that would lead the banner, which would work day and night to save his federation. They found KMD to be the best they had…and he was willing to do anything to stay on top.~~

Grrrrugh…ugh.Hmm.

~~The gray hairs that began to speckle his head were shaved clean off, and his eyes, always tell-tale with signs of aging- crows feet- held a sparkle not commonly found. His muscles were taught, and his nerves were hyped. His grip was tighter than ever before, and he walked as if all of the pain and anguish that he felt in the past never existed. He walked down that ramp looking like the champion he was 10 years ago, solid, stoic, and determined. He went in, took the Bad-Ass Title, and walked out. Nothing fancy, nothing breath-taking.Just good, old-fashioned hardcore wrestling the way KMD defined it. Sensation and Holliday’s IWF was better than ever, simply because one man didn’t let the dream die. Yeah, they’re still in hot water and working through bingo halls, but that’s gonna change, and KMD is going to make sure of that.~~

~~The camera pans around the room, now fully in focus. A mattress lays on the floor, next to a bottle of Jack Daniels, tipped over and empty. There is a large figure with a sheet draped over him snoring on the mattress…the shaved head of KMD can be seen poking out from under that sheet. He turns over, a large bare leg hangs over the edge of the mattress. Phil, the cameraman, speaks.~~

PHIL: KREV!!!

~~The man in the bed rolls over again, slowly looking up at the camera. Lines run across his face from where his face was pressed into the pillow, his eyes are glazed over with sleep seeds, and drool pools on his chin.~~

KMD: …what?

PHIL:You gonna get up sometime soon?

~~Krev sits up, rubbing his eyes with the sheet draped over his lap. His solid body ripples and goosebumps spread all over. He shivers, momentarily, and then wipes the drool from his chin with the sheet.~~

KMD: Is it Sunday morning already?

PHIL: Naw man, it’s Tuesday.

~~Krev blinks and scratches his face. He picks up the bottle and looks at it, tipping it up-side-down, watching the final drop hit the wood floor with a PLOP. He sighs.~~

KMD: Is it July?

PHIL: What? No, it’s December. You all right?

KMD: Yeah, yeah…just kidding. Where the hell did Monday go?

~~KMD cracks a smile as he motions around himself.~~

PHIL: You left WWC Saturday night to celebrate your victory of Sick Nick…you celebrated until last night.It was a hell of a party…I haven’t seen so many-

~~Krev stands up, sheet wrapped around his body. He goes to a mini fridge and opens it, pulling out a bottle. He tips it back, only to find nothing. He throws the empty bottle into a nearby garbage can.~~

PHIL: Are you alright?

KMD: You think I’d have more lying around here…did I drink everything I had?

PHIL: Uhh...I think.

~~KMD sighs and closes the fridge.He stumbles over to the table and dives into a box of Corn Flakes.~~

KMD: That sucks…I’ll have to stop off at the distributors after breakfast here.

~~He shovels a handful of flakes into his mouth.~~

KMD: And then to the liquor store.

PHIL: Don’t you think you should slow it down some? I mean, all of your pay that isn’t going into rent or gas is going into alcohol. You’re killing yourself, man.

~~Krev stops and looks up at Phil, pushing the box aside.~~

KMD: What’s the date?

PHIL: December 24th.

KMD: Shit. We got a plane to catch.

~~Krev quickly stands up, dragging the sheet with him. The camera watches as he makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans laying on the floor.We fade to black.~~

---

Tuesday, December 24, 2002.4:31 P.M.

~~We fade back to a shot of an airport. People buzz around the place; last minute departures for home and elsewhere for the holidays. The camera stops as KMD steps away from the ticket counter, mumbling to himself, bags in hand.He steps over to the camera, slamming his bag to the floor. He scratches his shaved head.~~

KMD: We’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow morning to leave. Damn place never got the money from the IWF for the tickets, so they sold them.This shit is starting to piss me off.

PHIL: The IWF is in hot water right now…it’ll be at least another couple of weeks before things are straightened out totally.

~~Krev nods.~~

KMD: We may as well make use of our time. Set up that camera on the tripod and lets get down to business. I’m not going to worry too much about HALO…if I even make it there. The damn flight is what I’m worried about right now.

PHIL: Yeah, sure thing.

~~Krev leans back against a wall as the camera shakes a little, and after a moment, it is steadied and the red-headed pimply-faced youth IWF fans have come to known as simply “Phil” comes into view with a microphone and sporting an IWF jacket and a Shawn Holliday t-shirt.~~

KMD: Where did you get that thing?

~~Krev points at the shirt as Phil looks down at it. He shrugs.~~

PHIL: Shawn gave it to me.

~~Krev nods as Phil shoes away a couple of young kids by the camera.~~

KMD: On a first-name basis with him now? Fair enough. Where do we start?

PHIL: WWC9…you’ve moved onto the next round, the 16-man battle royal. What do you perceive as the outcome of this match?

~~Phil points offscreen momentarily, obviously getting upset by the children. The camera wobbles a little as we hear the laughter of small children.~~

KMD: No one really “knows” the outcome of anything…it isn’t set in stone. It is a good thing that at least 3 men from the IWF, Shawn, Ebdon, and myself. That makes up a total of over 1/8th of the men in that ring will be local boys. Can’t really count Ebdon…he bounces between feds like he was stuck in a pinball machine, but ya gotta take what ya get sometimes. I’m secure that both Ebdon and Shawn have carved out their places in the competition. Mine, on the other hand, is very similar to the position I’ve always been in.

~~Krev stands straight up, cracking his knuckles.~~

KMD: Where I’m at is where I’ve been at for years now…it’s where I work the easiest anymore. I’m the underdog in this competition. No one makes mention of KMD for a few reasons, primarily because they don’t see the old man as a threat. Why would an old man like me be a threat? I’m harmless, right?

PHIL: Harmless…right. About as harmless as a neutron bomb.

KMD: Damn straight. There’s a reason as to why I’m considered the baddest hardcore junkie in the business. Look at me…every scar has a history of pain, every title I held had the ramifications of destruction…I walked through hell and back to get where I’m at today, and there ain’t nothing out there that’s gonna stop me. None of these big names up there are going to make me swerve from my path, simply because at one point in my career I was bigger than all of them combined. Am I worried about them? Shit no…I’ll watch out for them, I’ll get to know their styles, but I can’t expect the same from them…big names bring big heads, and big heads bring little-to-no prep time. They’ll all walk in there thinking they’re the cock of the walk…when, in reality, they’re all being played as chumps. Hell, one of them even calls himself a chicken...about as smooth as Jackrabbit calling himself a rabbit. Morons. No one takes this sport seriously...everything is funny this and funny that...fight with a dildo here and beat them over the head with a steel tube and a hampster there. It's idiots like that who've made this sport a joke. I hate those people passionately. That was reason one. You know reason two?

~~Phil shakes his head ‘no’.~~

KMD: That ones a little simpler…not all of these dumb asses in this tourney will go in unprepared. No, some of them will actually sit down and study their opponents…to those men, as to why they don’t mention me…hell, they’re just afraid. They sat there, watching man after man get eliminated last week, counting down all of the men they will take down and in what order they were throwing them out…until they came to me. Bracket four took off, and I destroyed Sick Nick. They sat there, stunned and shitting themselves, because they saw what they were up against. Am I playing myself up?

~~Krev pauses and pulls out a cigar. He looks to the side, nods at a 'no smoking' sign, and bites a chunk out of the cigar, spitting the end against the sign, splattering brown liquid all over it's glossy surface. KMD grins as he lights up.~~

PHIL:You can’t do-

KMD: No one tells KMD what he can and can’t do. They don’t want me smoking in their lobby, they shouldn’t have sold off my tickets. They can eat a big steaming pile of horse shit if they think they’re going to stop me.

~~Phil smiles and nods to KMD. Krev finishes lighting the cigar, and blows a big billowing puff out of his mouth.~~

KMD: Furthermore, I’ve been watching these guys on TV…they can all talk big and act big. Hell, some of them are damn good at it…but the question on my mind is can they back those big words up, or are they biting off more than they can chew? Yeah, some of them are damn confidant about who they’re taking out. They all have their targets picked…but one target each and every one of them failed to pick out was KMD. They’re all hoping that someone else will try to take out the big man…and, after that fails, and KMD has dumped a few of their sorry asses out of the battle, they just might band together to get him out of it…it’s the only way I’m going out. Will they do it? No, I don't-

SECURITY: Sir-

~~Krev pauses as a man in a security outfit steps up to him, tapping him on the shoulder. Krev turns to him and blows smoke in his face. The man grabs KMD by the collar, but KMD only shakes his head.~~

KMD: I don’t think so, buddy.

~~Krev winds up and socks the man, sending him backwards and into the passing crowd of people. The guard lays on the floor, knocked out cold.~~

KMD: I’m not normally so harsh, but that man can suck donkey nuts. KMD is pissed off right now, and anyone trying to get in his way is just looking for trouble.

PHIL: I’m sure they’ll be calling more security really soon.

KMD: Let ‘em.I’ll take each and everyone of them out.

PHIL: Shit man, you’ll get arrested…and the IWF doesn’t have the money to bail you…us out.

KMD: S’pose you’re right.

PHIL: You should put that out.

KMD: I’m not done with it yet.Screw ‘em.

~~Krev takes another long puff from the cigar, blowing smoke all over. People passing by look at him angrily.~~

PHIL: Shit…Krev, put that out!

KMD: No. Where was I? Ah, yes, will they band together to take out KMD? Nope, I don’t think so…they’re gutless…all of them. Hell, the only man that’ll be in that ring with any sensibilities will be Shawn Holliday.

PHIL: What about you?

KMD: KMD sensible? Shit, no.I’m a f!#$%ing caged and beaten animal in that ring man. There won’t be one man that’ll be able to compare with “The Steel City Killing Machine” when I arrive…why is that? Because I’m twisted and skewed…even if they did watch all of my videos, interviewed me, and got samples of my DNA, they sure as hell wouldn’t know what to do…everytime I step into that ring I’ve been a different man, a man totally unpredictable. I’ve had matches where I just stood there countering everything someone did until they got tired, and I’ve had matches where I’ve come to the ring throwing people out of my way left and right. I’ve been reserved; I’ve been a spitfire. I’ve been the nicest guy in the world, and I’ve been the stubbornest bastard from hell.

~~Krev takes a long puff from his cigar.~~

KMD: Who’ll I be Saturday?Hell if I know…I just know I gotta be there to show those young fellers what a real champion looks, acts, talks, and, above all else, wrestles like. They all talk well and fine, hell, some of them could be considered visionary artists of the film industry with all of the crap they send out to be viewed, but that doesn’t count in the ring…not one bit. Yeah, they can talk the talk, but heaven only knows if they can follow through with it and walk the walk. I want to fight someone who simply puts it the way it is in simple and easy terms. Someone like KMD.

PHIL: You want to talk about any of them in particular?

KMD: Naw...it would all be wasted words at this point. They won’t listen, but come Saturday, they’ll learn. Maybe later, but not now…until someone impresses me with their witty banter that I can actually comment on, I’m declining.

PHIL: KMD is declining to trash-talk?

~~Krev nods, taking a long puff from his cigar.~~

KMD: Yep. They all talk big in this tourney…they all compare themselves to each other, saying that one is better than the other because of this or that. You know why I’m not going to comment, or “trash-talk” any of them?

PHIL: No…

~~Krev takes a long pull from his cigar, and then grinds the butt against the wall, efficiently putting it out.~~

KMD: Simple. They can’t compare to KMD. They can’t reference what they’ve done or can do to the sheer power and influence he holds in the ring, and I’m not about to stoop to the level of comparing those waste of air, muscle-bound sacks of skin to perfection. They all fail by comparison.

PHIL: Even Holliday?

KMD: Holliday is Holliday…a good friend and like a brother to me. But one thing is for sure; if he gets in my way at WWC9’s final battle, shit is gonna fly, and, as much as I love him like a brother, he’ll have to take a backseat to my glory. He can be my wingman any day…but I won’t be second to him…not now. Maybe someday, but not now.

PHIL: So you’re going to take apart Shawn?

KMD: Shit, Phil…I never said that…I just said that-

~~Several security guards step up to KMD. KMD stops, and looks at them.~~

KMD: Step back, Phil.This might get ugly.

~~KMD takes off his coat, tossing it aside, as Phil steps back and towards the camera. We slowly fade to black as KMD rolls up the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt.~~