-[%]- Vincent watches the waitress walk away and slouches back down in the seat as he produces another cigar. Debby returns with his drink as he lights the fragrant cigar, he waves off her attempt at small talk and begins to sip the drink. -[%]-
Vincent: Amazing what the power of money will do something, makes you change everything about yourself. Takes away your morals, your scrupals, tells you to throw them in the trash with the rest of your wasted hopes and ideals. They say money makes the world go 'round, true enough as long as you have enough, it's the best grease money can buy. It can lube up a politician to pass a vote, make a judge release the guilty or convict the innocent, hell if you have enough of it? It can turn an ordinary man into the ruler of a third world country, so yeah, I guess they have a point.
Vincent: All this, {waves his hand around} This is all new to me, I'm not the kind of person that had money to throw around, my life? Hasn't been one with a silver spoon, hell it wasn't even one with a tarnished copper spoon. I hold no blame to anyone, I played the cards I was dealt, some fair, some not. The way I look at it, I have no control over what has happened, or what will happen, so why give a fuck? I've done alot of weird things in my life, I went Scuba Diving off the great coral reef in Australia, Halo jumped with the Seals. I've cliff jumped in Jamaica, and base jumped off the arch in St. Louis. Fast cars, faster women, good times and bad, been there, seen that, and probably done it twice. Wrestling? No, I never thought that at nineteen years of age I'd find myself signing a contract with the IWF and Andy Davis to compete inside a squared circle with a bunch of slack jawed monkey's in tights competing over the right to hump the other guys leg. In fact, I still like to think that what I'm going to be doing is nothing like that, nothing at all.
Vincent: This whole wrestling thing, might not be my calling, hell it just might not be for me. I won't know that till I try it though, so what the hell? I don't have anything to lose right? Nothing I can see, so I'm going to go for it, give it a shot, give it all I got, just like those Army posters tell me to. Will I become something special, or burn out like most people who think they have what it takes to compete? I don't know, I guess in some small way, in a tiny part of my being, way back in the very depths of my soul, that I care a little. To be the best? It doesn't consume me, I'm a junkie looking for a fix, I wanna go bigger, higher, and faster than anyone before me, and anyone after me. If you've scaled Mt. Everest, I wanna climb it than parachute from the top while eating a hot dog and chugging a soda. I get my kicks from doing things that people haven't done or seen before, now whether that makes me famous or gets me killed in the IWF remains to be seen, but either way it sounds like a hell of alot of fun.
-[%]- Vincent sets his finished drink down on the table and gets up to leave. He drops a hundred dollar bill down on the table and walks towards the exit. As he nears the door he's cut off by a short, bald, italian looking man with a bodyguard who has no neck and blocks out the sun. -[%]-
Short Man: Hello, my name is Anthony and this here is bear, say hi Bear.
Bear: {growls}
Anthony: You're a lucky man, Bear likes you
Vincent: I can tell by his pleasant demeanor.
Anthony: Oh you're a funny guy? Bear doesn't like funny guys, do you Bear?
Bear: {growls}
Vincent: Look, it's not that I don't enjoy your company, or the interesting conversation me and the roadblock here are having, but I do have things more pressing than waiting for you to figure out if Bear truly can fit me in that little cubby hole beneath the cash register, so if you want something how about coming right out and saying it.
Anthony: I saw you giving my waitress a hard time over there, I don't appreciate that Mr. Gallow. You see, I try to run a respectable establishment here.
Vincent: I'm sure the cockroaches are impressed
Anthony: The reason I cut you off is because I have a few questions, you're a wrestler aren't you?
Vincent: For the time being, why?
Anthony: Well, business around here, it hasn't been so well lately. Seems that high prices and cheap women just don't sell enough alcohol to keep the books afloat if you know what I mean.
Vincent: Ever heard of advertising? They got this neat invention called the yellow pages, place an ad.
Anthony: Yeah, advertising, I guess that's what you can call it, what I want is for you to endorse my little establishment here. You can come here and drink, do whatever you wish, whenever you wish, and I'll give you a little money on the side.
Vincent: What's the catch? Where's the string? What do I have to do?
Anthony: Not a whole lot, you put your picture on the wall over there, your signature to me below it, and you go win, who you fighting this week?
Vincent: Tommy Purr.
Anthony: He any good?
Vincent: How the hell should I know? I'm new here.
Anthony: Alright, well you go rip him a new asshole and keep me and Bear here happy, or else Bear is gonna have to entertain himself at your expense.
Vincent: Yeah sure, whatever, if I win I win, if I lose, I lose. Shit happens, no guarantees in life Anthony, now please remove this slab of beef from in front of me, ask him to move over there to greener pastures and let me out of the damn bar.
Anthony: That doesn't sound like the words of a true champ there kid.
Vincent: {looking back} Who ever said I was a champ? I'm just a kid.
-[%]- Vincent walks out of the pub and walks over to his GSXR 1100 standing near the street light. -[%]-
Vincent: Tommy Purr, I was honest back there, I don't know shit about you, does it really matter? You're a wrestler, you make a living doing this, you train to do this. You spend hours in the gym, and probably hours watching video tapes of your opponents. Me? I just got done spending my time in a bar, I don't take you too seriously, and I don't take this job too seriously. You're a blip on the map, a blur like mirage on the road that is my life, does this match mean much to you? I do know that you wrestled last night for a shot at a title and lost, cause if you didn't you wouldn't be facing me. Let's face it Tommy, alot of people will look at this match and view me as a stepping stone for you after you lost your shot at the title, I doubt too many people are going to be running to their local bookie to throw down money on Vincent Gallow any time soon.
Vincent: Six days till the first match of my career, six days till we find out if I have what it takes to do this. What do you think Tommy, you think I got what it takes? You see me as a threat? A challenge? Or just another name on the marquee? You gonna walk all over me like I don't even exist? Give it a shot, maybe you will, God knows you'll be favored to. I don't have a background in wrestling, no special training in fighting or any of that martial arts shit. Only knowledge I have is what I've picked up along the way, Bones heal, chicks dig scars. Doesn't sound like sage advice does it? Than again, what the hell do you expect from a 19 year old who's probably spent more time trying to find a more exciting way to kill himself than you've spent trying to figure out which set of tights makes you look cooler, as if that's not a joke in itself.
Vincent: I've survived to where I am because of a trust fund left to me by my Uncle Tommy. That's what allows me to do the things I've done, see the sites I've seen. I've been lucky enough to live a life that most would be shocked at. 18 years old is when the bond matured and I haven't looked back on my shitty excuse for a life before that, I'm not about to start now. Sunday marks another new beginning, the beginning of The New Breed, you can mock it, you can make fun of it, hell you can make fun of me, but just remember that I'm not the one who looks like a flaming homo in his promo, I don't prance with panther's and I sure as hell don't share the last name with the sound a cat makes when it's in a state of arousal. I'm just plain old Vincent Gallow, the next kid you're going to attempt to run down as you no doubt quest towards another shot at the tin strap, give it your best shot Tommy, this should be fun.
-[%]- Vincent stomps on the starter and the bike roars to life, he twists back the throttle a few times to unleash the sound of the motor. He plants his foot as he kicks it in the gear and turns the throttle full blast, filling the parking lot with smoke and the whailing sound of his tires as the bike screams off into the night -[%]-
