Ichabod walks into the conference room of the Myrtle Beach Branch of the Steve Parke Training Facility. Steve sits there with his hands crossed and his head bowed. ichabod knows what the deal is and he takes a seat. Steve takes a deep breath and looks across at Ichabod. After deterring his episode earlier, Steve had brought Ichy back to the facility and showed him the tapes. Ichabod had watched in strange silence, not speaking a word throughout the entire thing. Now the two men faced each other across the Mahogany surface of the conference table.
After examining the videos over and over, I have come to the conclusion that there is something seriously wrong with you.
Well no shit Steve.
Well it seems that each episode begins with these headaches. Our job is to find out what is causing them. This could take a while.
I don't like the way you said that...
Well, I don't think you are in any shape to go to Gladiator.
WHAT???? Are you fucking stupid?
If you have one of these episodes in the ring, you aren't going to have any defenseless bystanders to attack, you are going to be surrounded by real wrestlers, men that are nearly as, or as sadistic as you. You try that shit like you did on those tapes, and you are liable to get killed. They aren't going to care that it isn't you in there going crazy, all they are going to care about is stopping your ass dead.
Steve, there is nothing I'd like better. I don't know what all this means, or what all of it is going to lead to, and frankly, I couldn't care less. All I know is that if I duck out of Gladiator, I am not worth the shit stains on Archer's boxers. Now you can bite your nails in worry over what might happen, what can take place, or what I could go through, but me, I'm going to do nothing less than carry myself through that match hammer and tongs so that everyone here will understand what it means to me to be in pain. I don't care if i am number 1 or number 10, I don't care if I have to go through every guy on the roster to get in the ring, I will make it into the ring one way or another, and I'm not leaving until I've either killed someone or I am face to face with the world champion. This is the only time soon I am going to be this close, because everyone knows that this early in the game no one gets this kind of chance. There may be two or three people out there who want to take me out of this thing, and I am not going to let you do it for them, steve. I don't give a shit what is going on in my head or what is causing it. And I don't care about the consequences either. The only consequence that I know is that if i don't show up, then I'll lose my shot forever. If you are that damn worried about me, run your tests, keep me locked in here, strap me down, do whatever. But when it comes time for me to chart my flight to that show, you will let me go, because I'll be damned if I am going to let you do what every fuckin choad here is trying to do to me night in and night out. So far my enemies haven't been able to do it, so how will I let my friends do it?
Ichabod, if you'll just let me...
No compromises steve. You can't stop me. I'll fire you first. And then I'll kill you.
Fine. But i want to run some tests on you before the show.
-------------------------------------------------------
Ichabod lies flat on the running board of the radiological device. Steve holds a clipboard and flips the switch. Ichabod slides into the ovular opening of the machine perfectly relaxed. Steve continues pressing buttons and jotting notes down on his clipboard. He has about ten other tests he wants to run, and he knows this is going to be a long day.
-------------------------------------------------------
Ichabod steps off the treadmill monitor and begins to take off the electrodes steve has placed all over him. he towels off as Steve comes over and sits down.
The results won't be in until maybe monday or tuesday. Will it matter if I tell you to be careful until then?
Probably not.
