The scene opens on what appears to be a red pool of something or another which is lying upon a smooth white surface. A familiar voice is heard in the area, it’s voice threatening and harsh. Could the spot be a puddle of blood perhaps?
Voice 1: How do you like that?
Voice 2: …
Voice 1: Oh that’s right. You can’t talk anymore… Well, if you don’t like it you can always “Blow It Out Your Ass”!
The camera pans out, backing ever so slowly away from what appears to be a dining room table, the splotch obviously becoming a stain of ketchup and nothing more. Yet the camera continues panning out, catching a full glimpse of the face of one “Bad Ass” Matt Covey. He’s just finishing a bite of a bacon cheeseburger when he wipes his mouth across his leather sleeve.
Bad Ass: You don’t like to talk with your mouth full, do you?
The camera then turns from Matt revealing his eating companion to be none other than his rival Crusher!!! Crusher has one eye brow raised suspiciously at the Bad Ass as he swallows a chunk of a steak burger. The full diner can be seen around them now. The bars collecting grease and the stools and booths are sticky with spilt drinks. Crusher then has a quick drink of his own Coke and clears his throat.
Crusher: Okay. Am I to understand that you actually invited me here to talk to me? Not to throw my face in a grease vat, or shatter a bottle over my head, or gouge my eyes out with french fries or something?
Bad Ass: French fries? You think to small my friend. But as fun as all of that may sound, I’m actually here to straighten out everything before Harsh Winter.
Crusher: You having second thoughts?
Crusher smiles as the words escape his lips.
Bad Ass: In your dreams, pal. Actually I’ve come to realize that no matter how much it grieves me to say such things, the EWC is just as much my home as it is yours. I mean you wouldn’t believe how “fake” the WWF is. I checked it out, and believe me… I’d rather job matches here than become a “paper champion”.
Crusher: Is there a point to this sad story?
Bad Ass: One that only you and I can understand. We live to fight, to throw a fight and to only pretend… That’s just not us. So I’m proposing that we drop the “retirement” stipulation.
Crusher: Okay. So we just go at it in three rounds for nothing?
Bad Ass: Not exactly. I’m planning on cutting our behemoth friend Owen down at Rage. Then I’ll take the gold from around his waist and march my ass straight into Harsh Winter, putting the International title on the line against yourself.
Crusher stops to think things over for a moment. He scratches his chin non-chalantly as he ponders the thought over and over.
Crusher: I can’t see anything wrong with that. I’m not saying you’ll beat Owen, however I don’t want to see you bring nothing to the table either.
Bad Ass: Then it’s settled. Correct?
Crusher: Well, not exactly…
Crusher replies as he firmly grips the ketchup bottle by his side, Matt’s eyes fixated on the object.
Crusher: Shall we?
Bad Ass: Be my guest.
Crusher leaps to his feet and shatters the bottle over Matt’s face, blood and ketchup blending in one sick liquid formation. But Matt shakes it off and spears Crusher backwards, and out of the booth. Both men roll across the floor, trading hard punches as the scene fades…
The scene then reopens later on Matt in his locker room within the EWC arena. He appears to be placing a bandage just above his right eye as he grins at his rugged twin in the mirror. Standing only in his blue jeans and boots, he rubs his hand over his facial hair, finding the man he used to be.
Bad Ass: Things are back to the way they should be, and I can’t help but think he had something to do with it…
No sooner than he says the words. A booming knock is heard at his door. But Matt doesn’t even turn to answer it. Instead, the door flies open on it’s own, a young man with red hair and wearing grunge clothing, stepping in.
Bad Ass: Just like you to never use a door, asshole.
Lawrence Mattox: Like I need to, dip shit.
Matt turns and shakes his friends hand.
Lawrence Mattox: So you ready to do this again?
Bad Ass: Just about. Give me a sec…
Matt quickly slides on his new shirt, a black one that reads “Pain Is An Illusion”. He then grabs up his leather jacket and turns, pounding fists with Mattox. The two then exit the locker room and head straight for the ramp that will lead them to the ring. But the two take detour of sorts and climb a ladder, going just above the stage… Meanwhile, the fans outside are watching Wild Thing and Lucifer battle it out in an ultimate match of the jobbers. All of the sudden, however, “Run Like Hell” starts to play. The fans search the ramp anxiously for the Bad Ass who doesn’t show. Even Lucifer and Wild Thing have stopped long enough for the search. Suddenly, the jumbotron screen begins flashing bloody images of decapitated heads and severed limbs as the name “Lawrence Mattox” flashes across the screen in large and bloody 3-D letters. The screen then splits in half as a second ramp lowers from above, meeting the first at the end. And it is then that the two men arrive upon the arena, the loud screeching sounds of bursting pyro and fireworks being drowned out by the cheers of the fans in attendance! Both men stop atop the ramp and bang fists before turning and running down to the ring. They slide in where they immediately take out Wild Thing with a double clothesline over the top rope. They then turn and drive swift kicks into Lucifer’s gut before they grab his skull and send him slamming backwards into the mat. Lawrence then lifts the giant of a man with a reverse powerbomb and bounces his chest of the ropes back towards Bad Ass who delivers a “Blow It Out Your Ass”. The fans are blowing up with a renewed sense of confidence in both men as their cheers can attest to! Lawrence grabs a microphone soon after as Matt stomps Lucifer out of the ring.
Lawrence Mattox: Looks like the punk ass is back in this bitch! And I’m bringing with me, the greatest show on Earth! Not just any show mind you, but the Whole Damn Show!
The fans begin cheering loudly as Matt joins Lawrence in the center of the ring.
Lawrence Mattox: Now I’ve got some lost time to make up for, but here’s a man who knows what he wants and is never afraid to speak his mind. Yo Bad Ass, get at’em dog!
He hands the microphone over.
Bad Ass: First things first, I’d like to welcome back my boy Mattox here! We may’ve got ripped with the DQ at Fury, but it’s not like we ever gave a flying fuck before, am I right?
The fans cheer wildly as Lawrence shakes his head.
Bad Ass: And it’s just like Owen Alexander, I mean, sure the guy’s a behemoth of a man…
Lawrence Mattox: He takes that from his hefty ass mother.
Bad Ass: True. And he’s the only thing standing between myself and the International title. I’ve cut down the jolly green giant before, and God willing I’ll do it again. He can beat me, he can maim me, he can break every damn bone in my body like last time, but also like last time; I will continue not to give a fuck and use these size twelve boots to stomp his fucking face in!
The fans are cheering ecstatically with enthusiasm as Matt continues.
Bad Ass: You might be wondering why the Bad Ass has taken such an interest in the International title as of late. Quite frankly, I couldn’t give a damn about the belt! But I’m on to fry bigger fish which includes our good friend Crusher…
He pauses as the fans cheer their hero. The man who might possibly be their last fighting hope against the corporation.
Bad Ass: …at Harsh Winter. But we’ve changed some things. For instance, I don’t want to leave the EWC. And I sure as hell know he don’t either. So with Allen Smith gone and Crusher’s bad luck on the rise, I figured I might as well bring some joy to that empty void in his life and throw the IN title on the line!
He stops and smiles as the fans cheer enthused as usual. Lawrence grabs the microphone again.
Lawrence Mattox: If you wanna see the Bad Ass bust Owen’s giant ass and take the IN fight to Crusher, give us a big “Fuck You”!
The fans suddenly erupt in unison with a synchronized harmony of the phrase. “FUCK YOU!!!” They then begin to break out into multiple chants of the words as Bad Ass raises both arms into the air, calling for his beers as a wave of nostalgia overtakes the arena. And several beers come flying, Bad Ass blindly catching them all as if he’d just done it yesterday. He tosses Mattox a couple and the two celebrate with every guzzle of every ounce of the alcoholic beverages. (Not the NA brands that Austin drinks either) They clash beers when “Whoa” suddenly plays. Everyone turns to the entry ramp as the EWC president David Dubose walks out from behind Lawrence’s ramp. And the man doesn’t look pleased either.
Lawrence Mattox: Look guys, here comes the rainy cloud to trash our parade!
The fans begin booing Prez Dubose, but he pays no attention as he enters the ring. He quickly withdraws a microphone of his own from his jacket and speaks harshly into it, spit flying everywhere.
Prez Dubose: Matt Covey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?
Bad Ass: Actually I’m…
Dubose smacks the microphone from Matt’s hands as the crowd continues booing the president.
Prez Dubose: You will speak when I tell you that you can! I brought you into the corporation when you needed a job! I gave you everything that money can buy! And this is how you repay me? First you stop wearing your uniform. But I over look that. Then you get back on this violent trip where you ignore every order I give you. And I write it off as rebellion. But now I find you out here, drinking! And the worst part is that you’re drinking with Lawrence Mattox!!! Understand this right now, you are a wild card. You always have been and you always will be! Only under my direct order can you make it here in the EWC! I shelter you from man’s laws! I line your pockets with gold! And I order you this instant to wipe the ring with Lawrence-fucking-Mattox!
Matt and Lawrence stare at one another viciously for the moment. Matt then reaches out and shoves Dubose, stealing his microphone. He then stares wickedly at the man.
Bad Ass: I thought I told you to never fucking touch me again… What part of that don’t you understand Dubose? You may be the figure head of this operation, but I’m the fucking man power that keeps you going! You don’t touch me, and you don’t demand anything of me. This time you’re getting off, next time I’m beating the shit out of you!
He stops and begins breathing fiercely, his eyes never leaving Dubose’. He then speaks again.
Bad Ass: Now, if you want to see me wipe the fucking ring with Lawrence Mattox, give me a “Fuck You”…
The crowd does not respond with the proper verbal announcement. Instead, chants of “Asshole! Asshole!” are pointed at Prez Dubose.
Bad Ass: That’s what I thought… You see prez Dubose. You like to think you’re in charge, when really the power belongs to each and every individual that pays to see you eat shit! You like to deliver a “house of pain” if you will… But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that “Pain is an Illusion” and if you don’t like that then you can always…
The fans reply with “BLOW IT OUT YOUR ASS!!!” As the Bad Ass drives a sharp kick into Dubose’ gut, just before delivering the extravagant finisher, leaving Dubose laid out in the ring as he and Mattox begin flipping the bird everywhere. The two then exit the ring, collecting a few more beers as they walk back up their ramp. And the Bad Ass fades to black as the jumbotron closes behind them and their receding ramp. And all the while he concentrates on the big man that will be in his way this Friday… Owen Alexander!