The scene opens on the backstage area. The One Man Revolution, Bobby Minio, stands at the gorilla position in his entrance gear. He’s working to pump himself up, shadow boxing and hopping side to side with a light step. He turns impatiently, looking towards the man at the AV control board.
Bobby Minio: I go out after Liger Mask, right?
AV Guy: Correct.
Bobby Minio: Well then, what’s the hold up? Where is he?
AV Guy: Listen bro, how should I know? Don’t you guys talk? I’m just production staff. He should have been here 10 minutes ago. Really though that’s as much I'm ever told. I pretty much just press play on this console. I really don-
Bobby Minio: Alright, I get it. Thanks. Jesus.
With a deep roll of his eyes, Minio turns on his heel to look down the hall towards the backstage area. After about 10 seconds with no sign of his opponent, Minio smirks and shrugs to the camera.
Bobby Minio: Follow me, we’ll get this rolling.
Minio, with camera man in tow, begin walking down the corridor towards the deeper bowels of the backstage area. The tandem walk down one hall, Minio glances around, then waves the camera to follow in another direction. They check catering, but there is no sign of Liger Mask. They check the interview area, but there is no sign of Liger Mask. Finally, Minio heads towards the locker rooms.
As they turn a corner, Minio stops in place. A door is ajar, nearly falling from its hinges with the wood splintered around the locking mechanism. On the door is a small printed sign that reads: “Vestidor”. Minio stares blankly at the sign, before slowly leaning around the remains of the door to peer into the room. The camera man moves to follow his gaze. As the room is revealed, it becomes clear that something had happened here. The room is a mess, trash, chairs and bags thrown around at random. Laying in the debris from what was once a table is Liger Mask himself, writhing in pain and mumbling to himself.
Bobby Minio: Whoa whoa whoa…
He turns to face the camera.
Bobby Minio: I’d like to preface for the record that this was NOT me.
He then turns back to Liger Mask.
Bobby Minio: What the hell happened? Who did this?
Liger Mask: Los… morenos…
Bobby Minio: What? Speak up.
Liger Mask: Los… morenos…!
Bobby Minio: Hermano, you are barking up the wrong tree. The only other language I speak is Russian… now.
Liger Mask: Los morenos… lo hicieron! Los morenos lo hicieron!
Minio turns to glance at the camera.
Bobby Minio: Uhh, alright. Be on the look out for a Carlos Marinas? I think?
Camera Man: Actually I think he’s saying black dudes? I think?
Bobby Minio: Black dudes? What black dudes would want to- … Oh. Ohhhhh.
He turns to look back at Liger Mask in the heap on the ground.
Bobby Minio: Well then, when you’re ready, when you’re feelin’ up to it, we can knock out this match, settle up, all that… but clearly you’ve got some issues with a certain tag team, two fellas who I’m not in a hurry to run into again any time soon, sooo… Now I gotta turn my back on you. Godspeed through Texas, hombre!
Minio offers a quick salute in a groaning Liger Mask’s direction and turns, walking around the side of the camera man and out of frame.
Bobby Minio: Guess who just got the early out! It’s all coming up Bobby today!
The camera turns back to focus on the damage as the scene fades into the next segment.
The camera pans to the announce team.
Bill Ding Returns next!
He built this city, but don't forget about the other guys.
C.J. O'Donnell vs Wrex vs Bill Ding
The camera pans to the announce team.
Hell of a contest.
Someone is going to be left with a sour taste.
During the intermission before the next match, the camera opens up to a hallway littered with wrestling gear. Tights, tape, kickpads and boots litter the hallway, probably from someone’s feeble attempt at “spring cleaning”. The cameraman focuses on a few select pieces of clothing that sort of give away the tosser’s identity. To the right are mismatched sets of boxing gloves along with stacks upon stacks of Spider-Man-esque tights. As the camera closes in to check on the rest of the gear, a knife sweeps past the screen, startling the cameraman.
The camera rushes to the locker room where we see Bray, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of his old gear.
Bray: [in a distressed voice] What do you want, Mr. cameraman? Can’t you see I’m... reflecting?
Ace: Ali, get the f*** up off the floor. Made a damn mess! And where’s your new gear?
Bray: Gear? New?
Ace: Your new WRESTLING gear, b. I thought you was going for a more “boxing, muay thai” set-up.
Bray: Thought about it. Not doin it. Looks like ass. Only wore those damn shorts cause they were cool.
Ace: Enough of that. And what the fu….-dge did you do to your hair!?
Bray: … Haaaah you said fudge.
Ace: Don’t start. We got complaints from the anniversary show
Bray: Ehh f*** those fudgers, I’m unhinged, b. BUT… I thought maybe, for the timess, I’d do somethin a little different, feel me? You see, I had an epiphany last night after the anniversary show.
Bray: It was there that I realized, that I don’t need this sh**!
Ace: What are you saying?
Bray: The flashy clothes, the stupid gimmicks! I don’t need this sh**! That’s not what made me. That’s not what put me on the map! Nah nah. It was me, being ME!
Ace: Aight aight. That’s a good sign. We making progress. So, what exactly is the real you?
Bray: .... a sick guy.
Ace expression immediately darkens, while Bray’s smile stares a hole into her soul.
Ace: Pardon?
Bray: I think I'm sick Kelsie! I’m not right in the head, I’m-
Bray starts beating his head in with his own fist over and over.
Bray: Why? Can’t? I? Get? My? Sh**? Together!?
Ace: Ali, cut that sh** out! You’ll give yourself a friggin concussion!
Bray: Maybe that’s what I need! Maybe that’ll fix me! Because I’m tired, Kelsie! I’M TIRED!
Ace: Calm down, b! Calm down! You got a match soon!
Bray: Fun. Get to put on a… three star match and then go about my day again!? FINE! Who’s it against?
Ace: B-17.
Bray: OH! Wait, didn’t he get suspended?
Ace: Yes but he’s back now and he’s facing you so get your ass off the floor and switch into your gear.
Bray: Yea yea. I gotta question though.
Bray rises to his feet and looks directly at the camera.
Bray: Why do you guys always record when you’re not supposed to and f*** up the recording when you’re supposed to get a good shot!? Hm?
Ace: Ali, calm down!
Bray: Get out... GET out...!
Bray shoves the cameraman out of the locker room and slams the door in his face.
