The rotten smell of withered limbs and medication fills the halls of a local hospital where a couple of the members of the Extreme Wrestling Coalition happen to be hanging around. They had all been put through a major scare within the last few hours. First, Nick Lopez had been in a major accident while on his bike, and his condition was uncertain… Then, what was supposed to be a blockbuster match between Hicks and Smith, turned into a near fatal experience for the members of Sudden Impact. And now the storm seemed to have died down. One man in a familiar leather jacket and jeans, is sitting in the waiting room, watching as several members of the EWC staff are turned away from Nick’s door. The doctor in charge exits silently and locks the door behind himself. As he vanishes down a corridor off in the distance, the brooding man gets to his feet and walks over to Nick’s room. He turns the locked knob several times before releasing it.
“When have I ever adhered to locked doors?” He thinks to himself as he pulls a small paper clip from his pocket. He inserts it along the crack of the door and with one smooth turn, he’s in the room, shutting the door behind him. The room seems much smaller in the dark, and is carrying a sharp smell. “Like burnt flesh…” Matt thinks again as he rounds one unused hospital bed and nears Nick’s. He then pulls out a small chair and turns it around, sitting backwards in it with his arms crossed over the back of the chair, and his chin resting on his arms. He can’t bring himself to look at first, but he knows the man in the bed is a friend.
Matt: Through it all... All the feuds, all the turning. You’re a friend…
His eyes pierce the sight of his resting friend and quickly turn away with a deep gut feeling of sadness and depression. The two combined make him sick quite fast. Nick had suffered a great ordeal, but in this accident he was shown a brief period of relief. A pause from the stress of everything else that life and the EWC had to offer. Matt kept his head turned to the nearest window, yet talked aloud as though Nick could hear him.
Matt: You’re free now, if but momentarily. No titles to have to worry about. No looking over your shoulder every five minutes for a sign of safety. Hoping that each match will not be your last. No more worrying what anyone thinks of you… You had an ass whooping coming for your little “jump-ship” you pulled a few days ago; and now all I can think of is how terrible it is that you’re going to be away. No telling when you’ll be back or if you’ll be back…
Matt stops and realizes that he’s almost sounding sentimental. He quickly stops in his track of thought and stands from his seat. He then turns and looks out the window, down onto the ever-small people who are running the rat race below him. Do they know the sacrifice that each man suffers? Are they consumed with themselves so much that they can’t even see pain in another’s eyes anymore? Were they bought out? Sold as merchants to the all mighty dollar?
Matt: No… But I was… Just as you were once. But you saw things as they really were and made a choice. Who were we to think we should punish you for your difference in opinion? We weren’t any better than you, or Crusher, or Allen Smith, or Bradley…
He stops once more, noticing a small black limo a few floors down in the parking lot. He had seen it before, hell; he had ridden in it several times. It belonged to the EWC President, David Dubose anyway. Matt decided it would be best if he left, and turned for the door; shooting one last smile to the resting Nick. He’d like to think that Nick could have seen it. As he reaches the door handle, he turns back and calls out once more…
Matt: If you want beautiful, close your eyes. If you want pitiful, I’ll be in a picture. Pain is an illusion, ride it out…
He exits the door and abruptly bumps into a nurse, knocking her over. She hits the floor roughly and reaches a hand up for assistance. But he ignores her plea and straightens his unzipped jacket as he walks down the hall. Silently, the nurse cusses and glances at the door which reads, “Restricted: Staff Only”. She then gets to her feet and makes a dash in the opposite direction for the nurses station. Matt’s mood has changed, and he has brought out the emotions that make him a bad ass in the first place. His head held low, he walks ruggedly towards the nearest elevator and punches the button. And while he waits, his mind begins to wander…
“What is the cost of all of this? What were we doing in a graveyard in the first place? Obviously we weren’t trying to kill anybody. But what if they had died? What then? Maybe…”
And it suddenly hit him like a sack of bricks. The E in the EWC had always stood for Extreme. And by all definition, there was no limit to the distance any one of them would go. Smith, Hicks, Crusher, himself, they had all grown to live off of the violence. Some of them had honed their taste for it; others just took it where they could find it… All the while, ordinary people sat and watched it all, watched as they put their lives on the line night after night. And they were getting paid to kill themselves… They were Extreme alright… The elevator suddenly came to a stop with a high pitched Ding! But Matt didn’t seem to notice. His back to the elevator, he nearly snapped when Dubose’ hand reached out and grasped his shoulder.
Bad Ass: What the hell?!?
He turned sharply with one fist raised, just waiting to nail Crusher in the face… Their feud didn’t seem to have an ending. Not yet at least… Dubose quickly ducked as Matt’s right hook took out one fellow passenger aboard the elevator. Dubose quickly jerked Matt aside and allowed the elevator and the passed out civilian to ride away.
Dubose: What the hell was that?
Bad Ass: My bad. Thought you were Crusher.
Dubose: Well I’m not!
Bad Ass: Too bad.
Dubose: Too bad? What’s that supposed to mean? And… What the hell? What the hell is that?
Dubose’ gaze is fixated sharply onto the WWF logo that is plainly showing from beneath Matt’s jacket. Matt just lowers his head and rolls his eyes, sighing a breath like that of an aged man. For a moment, all that stood between the two was empty space, and the smell of Dubose’ expensive Extreme brand cologne. Finally Dubose turned his peering eyes away and huffed, puffing his chest up in a defensive position.
Dubose: I’m not going to ask why. But I do want you to take that damn ridiculous looking shirt off, right now!
Matt looks down at the shirt on his body, Dubose’ finger grips still molded into the wrinkles. Matt then stares at Dubose and grins as another elevator door opens behind them, several passengers stepping off. He brushes shoulders as he passes Dubose, using one hand to hold the elevator open.
Bad Ass: Well, sometimes we don’t get what we want, now do we?
Dubose stares harshly at the defiant young man and reaches a hand out for him. But Matt smacks his hand away and steps back further into the elevator. Just before the door closes, he calls out…
Bad Ass: And don’t ever fucking touch me again.
Dubose stands aghast in shock as the steel doors seal off the space between the two. Matt smiles to himself as the elevator begins its ever-so-slow descent to the bottom floor. If only TJ could have seen him… Or maybe Mattox… He was back to the basics, dealing with things in his own special way. And it made him feel like himself again. Now all he had to do, was explain to the Boss and Jay Cee that he was still rolling with the guys, only now he had no ties to Dubose other than a pay check. He wasn’t sure if it would go over so well with Jay Cee, but Hicks would always understand. He had told him so before. The elevator soon decreased it’s speed to none, and the doors parted, allowing Matt his freedom into the lobby. Matt advanced towards the revolving exit doors, but took the time to notice a familiar face just next to them…
Bad Ass: Crusher…
Matt smiled as Crusher turned, noticing Matt’s presence. Crusher quickly leaped into a defensive position, his hands held high and balled into fists. But Matt didn’t fight him. Instead, Matt gave him a pat on the shoulder and a farewell.
Bad Ass: Not today pal. Got some things to do. But do me a favor and take care of your pals, okay?
Crusher: What the hell?
Crusher just cocked an eyebrow as Matt disappeared into the night just outside the hospital. Allen Smith just shrugged his shoulders, and Owen took a long sip of some hospital tea.
Owen: He seems to be doing much better…
Allen Smith: Damn Crush, what kind of pansy-ass bowling ball did you nail him with?
Crusher: Not sure… But I’d like to know what the hell he’s taking. That’s some strong ass medication…
The scene closes on the three men and Dalton as they puzzle the attitude change of everyone’s favorite Bad Ass.