If you like to gamble,
I tell you I'm your man
You win some,lose some
It's all the same to me.
The pleasure is to play
It makes no difference what you say
I don't share your greed,
The only card I need
Is the Ace of Spades
The Ace of Spades

Motor Head "Ace of Spades"

Our scene opens, the rhythmic beats of the wind and rain beating across the Kansas City roof tops. The camera from far off look ever upon the old downtown arena. Turf of the thugs, haven of the old, and the landmark of Missouri Urban Warfare. Slowly our camera peers deep into the falling raindrops to focus solely upon a tall man, adorned in a heavy rain coat. His walk is forceful, imposing a powerful presence as his boots hit the concrete with a pitter patter. His face hidden in his hood except for a sinisterly evil yet familiar smile. An old welcome as he slowly stopped infront of a door. The words across it "Treasure Chest Gym Inc." The man slowly produces key's as he places them on the lock and with a quick turn opens the door as he steps in, the door closing with grace. Our camera cuts inside where the cloaked figure steps in from out of the rain, the sound of pouring nothing more then a distant sound to those who pay attention. Amidst the darkness he slowly takes off his coat, revealing his even more powerful looking form, a physique of a world class athlete with scraggly hair. He places the cloak on a rack as his hands flip nearby light switches. Slowly the lights flick on as he becomes slowly more apparent as he steps out of the shadows into quickly lighting up gym...his voice echo's through out the area, its hallway bouncing the sounds...

    Man:"Heh...quick bastards."

The man steps out from his shadows to reveal himself, but that familiar voice that no one forgets once they match picture and face. Its "The Systematic Assassin" Logan Treasure, adorned in a black T-shirt, khaki's and his doc martin boots. His face is still the same as last time, stubbles upon his face as he regrows his grizzly beard, his hair combed back but still grizzled with that beauty and mystique to him. He slowly walks into the gym, smelling about as he eyes around the gym equipment. Abandoned, an after hours project as he walks, his body language owning the room.

    Logan: "Some people say that life is a poker game. You begin to win..betting your chips, the confident smirk across your face until like a train at full steam your taken by the house. You lose everything you had because you bet big. And slowly the quick sand settles in. Now matter how hard you try to get that perfect hand, how much you bet, you lose to the house. And then that perfect hand rolls along. And you slide off your wedding ring, your rolex, and the remainder of your chips as you bet big. The house throws everything you had and more and you lay down that royal flush. That ever present ace of spades sticking in the dealers mind as you've then realized you've won. You crushed house. Now what does this damn metaphor have anything to do with wrestling. Let's look deeper."

Logan slowly passes out of the weight room, in to a corridor of rooms. He pops his neck, a missed sound as he slowly paces it, hitting a boom box briefly as it begins to play "Ace of Spades" by Motorhead slightly in the background. Logan slowly walks to a slightly ajar door. He grins as he opens it up into the darkness, sucking one in like a black hole. He flips on the light switch as the sky lamps twitch to life as the darkness finds somewhere to hide, no longer free to roam the room as he steps in. Its a wrestling room, adorned with a huge "Highspots.com" wrestling ring of blue ring ropes, a boxing ring style top rope and silver ring curtains.

    "Three months ago I lost my chance to glory. I lost to the dealer. I lost to the house. And for three months I appeared briefly, as an attempt to get that special card. That ace of spades. As I took the time to heal. To come back to the table with some more chips, to get back to what I've lost. They changed my dealer or the owner of Titan Wrestling Federation. His name is Danny Firestarter. And ignorant bitch who obviously can righteously belief in my boys, my students. I was about ready to go, to gather my chips and go to play some Blackjack in New Era Wrestling, before I saw that expressionless face across Danny's face. Imagine it. The uphill battle to return has leveled. Danny how ignorant can you be? Yes, I'll accept the match. But for you to believe me to lose? You don't get it do you Danny? Hell Tommy and Russell don't get it."

Logan slowly paces around the warehouse esque room. His eye ever focused on the wrestling ring. A gaze of non chalantness, yet it conveys something of anxious ness. In an erratic maneuver he dashes into the ring, sliding under the bottom rope as he stands up calm. At peace. As if at home. The traveler back from his long recuperation returns to his home...in his case one of the greatest true athletic grapplers EVER is back where he belongs, the wrestling ring.

    "This is my art Danny. I play the rules and in the end I always win. I take the losses, and come back stronger. You know what it's like? Struggling with an injury, meeting those hard demands? But the smile upon the guys in the backs faces as you put on the match of a lifetime, as you make all those people's eyes light up as you show what you can do. But what takes the cake is that sense of fear. That sense of apathy as you speak of your end to a man you honestly could never care about. A simple "old meat" to the roster who was around back when Ryan was running the show. You want my students so badly. With their talent who wouldn't? But you know why I chose to do it through my clause? To see if some asshole like you tried to screw me out of the roster since I'm injured, taking your "pay checks" which is frankly just enough to provide for my kid. And for that you greedy son of a bitch, my student's match with Briggs and Bower won't happen. Oh yes I can do it as long as my contract is in effect. Go ahead, I dare you to fire me. I can the words quivering on your lips. Try it...I know you'll feel so much better parting with the best wrestler your roster has and the best tag team you have aside the dudes..."

Logan gives that malicious grin. His eyes shaking with fury, yet its a resolve, a controlled flame. He slowly paces the ring, patting each turnbuckle corner as he passes it, testing the ropes.

    "Just for you Danny, I'll accept your match. I'll end another two men's career if I must. I'm just brutally sorry about their manager but I didn't kill them. A put with a sledgehammer can't kill a man. If you want to take me to court about it go ahead. You'll lose anyway. Jack, Jason, you've got an unsanctioned street fight. Danny, I'm sure you'll just happen to over those various medical forms that would permit or allow me into a match as all owners like to check up on their talent. But no worries, I'm cleared. That's right. I'm one hundred fucking percent.. Fresh off a herniated disc. I'll even humor you. I'll find a partner. Sure, Gene and Justin are injured, and flying Masajun Hahn over from Japan. But you'd be surprised Danny. You made yourself far too many enemies in your career and it has come back to haunt you through me. It could be a former ACWO superstar, it may not. Could be a home bred TWF superstar or maybe its someone from NEW. It makes little difference. He'll be there to watch that expressionless emotion come across your pathetic shell of a face as we tear down the Symphony's synthetic juggalo orchestra as if we were your very own wrecking crew. I'll enjoy just as much as you enjoy pretending that you care about your fans, that you care that a man such as I gets a shot at the glory he righteously deserves."

Logan stands admist the bright lights in the center of the ring. The camera slowly spinning around him as a glisten of sweat pours into his hair, a tear eyeing up slightly as he's home. It slowly stops to face him in the face as he stairs into it deeply, as if staring deep into The president's eyes.

    "My cards out on the table Danny, just so you can look at them as you admit to failure in ending The Assassin's career upon his return to the table. Go ahead, smile at your hand. Seeing that perfect flush lined up as you call my bluff. As if the Assassin actually has a tag partner? What kind of ridiculous thought you'd think. I know that because that's the kind of person you are. Surrounded by people to make you feel big, to make you feel like you have any true thought, any true brains. Well Presi...Danny. I'm off to cash into my chips. I'll see you soon."

Logan reaches deeply into his front right pocket, pulling out a hand of 5 "TWF Standard Playing Cards". You know the type that have pictures of wrestler on each card. He grins as he looks over the hand and throws them to the ground, slowly hovering downward as the camera focuses on Logan's grin.

    "Heh. I would tell you to shut up and wrestle but frankly your too crippled and too ignorant to do either."

Logan slowly begins to walk away from the ring, walking through the ropes as he begins to walk off. The camera focuses on the hand of card which reveal itself to be a 10 of spades with a picture of Demise, a Jack of Spades with a picture of Luke Von Erich, a Queen of Spades with Stephanie McKinney, a King of Spades with Brent Nelson and the most decorate card, the ace of spades, the card of death with a picture of Logan with a cocky grin as if staring deep into your soul. The sound of a light switch is heard as the light's flicker...

Fade to Black