Our scene opens a bit differently. Actually I lie. Our scene opens with a man, sitting upon the edge of a bed. The sound of humming central air and the steady breath of the man in front of us. His face concealed by the black hood of his hoodie, reading across the jest in red bold text "Adidas". Wearing some white striped warm up pants and Nike running shoes he remains calm. Clasped in his palm appears to be a small mp3 player, and some miniature headphones. He slowly pulls back the hood, and it is revealed to be none other then OCW grappla, T Drake! Any words T Drake?

    Tommy: "...."

        Fair enough. His face appears rather grave. He slowly slips the ear pieces into the canals. His shimmering blue eyes staring off into infinite space as he takes a deep breath in. He says to himself as he pulls the hood up.

    Tommy: "Now."

        Slowly he begins to walk out of the shady bedroom. The sweet sounding melody of Our Lady Peace "Not Enough" taking over. Slowly he steps out of his grandparents house. He gazes about with an air of confusion. His face concealed as he slowly emits a cold breath of steam as he looks to his right and begins to jog. And jog he does. His first foot being planted in front of the other. The camera just following him as slowly a voice over, himself takes over. A refreshing change.

~One, two, three. One, two, three. How ironic man. How ironic that the beginning breaths of my jog are the last three things Devon heard before he lost. Before his face collided with my foot. Before I turned Steels iron confidence to sand to leave a print in. Or something. C'mon Thomas, we have a long jog.~

       T Drake's internal monologue stops as we hear the chords and singing apparently from T Drake's mp3 player providing an opaque soundtrack. Providing base and definition, yet not adding color. The slow sound of feet colliding with side walk is heard along with the steady and controlled breathing of the certified badass, the innovta of innovation. Well, you know the rest. Or do you?

~Well T Drake here comes your next big shot.~

~Another chance at gold.~

~Another chance to succeed.~

~A first time for some singles gold.~

~God, the glory of a singles title.~

~Or another chance to choke. To die trying.~

~Out of a group of six, I am the young gun man it seems. I mean, surely out of those 5 men I'm breakin the mold right? I mean to get a chance to roll around the mats with Brujah again has to mean something down here in Texas?~

~What does it mean? Am I tall? Am I large? Am I evil?~

~Russell would say I am.~

~Logan wouldn't say anything.~

~Logan never says anything.~

~Maybe I should look deeper?~

        We quickly fade to a side glance of Tommy, in his jog as his stride is shown, quite nice and long strides for a jog. It quickly flashes to footage from beneath a shimmering white stallion, it's hooves slamming into the floor as it strides and cuts back to T Drake. His pace continued as he picks it up a little. His arms delicately swinging from side to side like a triathlon runner.

~Does Derek Steel ever shut the hell up? Of coarse he doesn't. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to comprehend. How to grasp the difference between us. I wish it was so much easier for this guy.~

~He calls himself the devil? Then I'll dance with the devil, whatever that means. If it means your losing, then I'll do it.~

~And what is it with him and his mother?~

~Christ sake is the holmes a momma's boy?~

~He says my will change after his hate is unleashed like the demon he is.~

~What does he know of a life change? Has he ever met god face to face?~

~What has he done except run his mouth. I cause pain this. I cause pain that. I'm unstoppable this. I'm unstoppable that.~

~When will he say..show that he is such a thing?~

        Tommy's steps carry more weight to them now. Our camera seemingly slowing down time like a prince of persia. His foot slowly drumming into the puddle of water amongst the Minnesota snow in St.Paul suburbia as it's apparent he's leaving the suburbs. Cars slowly passing by as this man jogs.

~And what's with Boone and Brujah?~

~What drives them?~

~A familiarity..stings at my heart with these two as they are nothing more then monsters among men.~

~Or are they men among monsters?~

~I think they lack the greater purpose that drives me...no, they don't. Wouldn't there will to succeed be just as good as mine? Just as good as what the fans want to believe?~

~In that thought..who are the fans believing in at all? OCW is a land of villains, foes, and far and few between the good.~

~We have plenty of bad and ugly.~

~But is Thomas to judge? No. I'm here to fight. I'm here to get ready.~

~I'm here because I have a dream.~

~But that dream is only a dream.~

~And everyone in this company will make sure it's just that and nothing more.~

        His speed picks up, his arms shuffling a bit more as the sound of his warm ups rubbing against each other is heard. His panting increasing as our music switches to the next track, the next back drop. "Build a bridge" by Limp Bizkit. Somewhat appropriate I suppose. I'm a DJ now I guess.

~Thinking of motivation, there is Love and Charlatan.~

~My conscious assumes it's greed.~

~Love wanting that big fat pay check.~

~Another way to rub it in the fans and Joey's face. That a manager is truly the best.~

~And this is Charlatan's ride to the west.~

~He couldn't care less where he gained his tools or how he uses them.~

~He just wants to see his own face.~

~But wait. Am I any different?~

        Tommy continues on. His face giving this mixed and confused reaction as his strides become much more powerful. Graceful. Like an uncaring wild horse. We quickly cut from a shot of his stride to that of a horse. To Thomas Drake, and back to the maverick stallion. To Tommy Drake's confused glance, to a photo of him all grins. To a collage of his enemies, and quickly black and white memories of there matches this past sunday.


~What makes me so different from Devon? A catch phrase? My list of titles? No, they are not titles! Nick names. A fancy way to scare my opponent. Confuse em. That's it. Why didn't I realize that before? That I'm...Wait not me, that T Drake is a man of boasts and pride. But he's a man who's choked. So what bridge do I leap that makes me so...~

        Tommy in a powerful stride leaps over this large open gap of   water. A shot of below him just slowly soaring through the air. His monologue finds the word as he comments on it all.


        In the midst of the jump, it cuts to a horse, the same one making that exact leap, a shot from below as it's just magnificent to watch. The Maverick clearing without  a care. He is brand less, he is a rogue, a rebel. Not domesticated in a world based on a set of rules. Slowly we fade back to T Drake, landing, a loud splash being heard as he continues on, a smile developing as he continues to jog. He is entering St. Paul now. The skyscrapers and buildings becoming more and more as are the cars.

~My heart's intent is what makes me different.~

~My heart's intent has made me what I am.~

~My heart's intent kept me alive in trying times.~

~My heart's intent kept me from becoming an systematic assassin.~

~But made sure I was above it.~

~My heart is free by the rules of Outlaw Championshp Wrestling.~

~I only want one thing.~

~A chance.~

~Not the belt. I desire it with a passion but I want the chance first. The wild chase. And here I am, I think with the chance.~

~My heart's intent separates me from the rest. My graceful stance, my opposition to what those greedy, hating, power hungry mongers seek. What they see is a pedestal of pain and money. I see glory and honor.~

~Honor? Damn the Rune Archer for rubbing off on me.~

~Fucking Kitsune-San.~

        Tommy stops abruptly. His jog complete. He slowly slips the hood off, taking the ear plug headphones out of his ears and turning off the music slowly as he just looks up. A slow pant. He isn't worn at all. Breath in, breath out. Like the sweet beat to poetry or rap.

~I understand now why I am Tommy Drake.~

~Because I can.~

~I am Tommy Drake.~

~I am the Maverick. Bound not by the rules and ideas of this or any other company, but my own.~

~I'm not an anti-hero. Nor am I just some rapping catch phrasin kind of guy.~

~I am a man.~

~I am a maverick~

~And no one will stop me.~

~Not this time.~

~Not even myself.~

        Fade To Black