Stacy Clark stood silently facing a white washed door. The color was stained from the years of of neglect, from abuse. She didn’t want to enter it, simply didn’t want to. No. She just didn’t want to.

She was forced to.

Just being in the presence of B-17 left her feeling uncomfortable. There was a coolness there that frightened her. She had always sensed it, a certain algidness of isolation. He once had laughed, once had flirted, once had friends, but now only cold blue eyes remained hidden behind a charming smile.

“Not everyone can be loved,” Blain had told her before strictly mandating her to do her damn job.

She pushed the door open, but the room was tenebrous and silent but for minuscule box of glowing light. An Ipad showed a beautiful room on its screen. A man was ambulating past the camera while Phil Collins “In the Air Tonight” played loudly.

Clark approached carefully: B-17?

B-17 appeared back on screen with a towel wrapped around his waist: Ah, Clark. I suspected you might disturb me.

Clark: Um. I don’t understand. Where are you?

B-17: I, Clark, have dinner reservations. And we have unique opportunity here. Ashley insists that I have an interview with you, and I insist that you don’t touch me. Yet we consistently found ourselves in a position of you not abiding by the rules.

B-17 walked off screen.

Clark: What rules?

B-17 shouted back: The rules of personal boundaries! So, what can I do for you?

Clark: Um, can I turn on the lights?

B-17: I’m not f*cking there. Do whatever you desire.

B-17 walked past the screen with grey briefs on. Clark followed him with her eyes off the screen.

Clark: Ok, well. Look I just have to ask... you don’t want to be physically contacted but...you’re a wrestler?

B-17 appeared in front of the camera abruptly: Oh, Stacy! God, that’s such art. It’s the sake of comeliness, perfection, absolute creation. Like cinema.

His eyes seemed to drift to an image only he could see.

Clark took a seat in front of the Ipad: Ok, let’s talk about last week. It was your first week back, how did you feel?

B-17: I’ve been cogitating numbers. So many numbers. One stands out from last week. 100 percent Scottish Beef. It’s peculiar. If Joe Zhivago is 100 percent Scottish Beef did I just squash all the Scottish beef?

He scurried off screen again and the sounds clothes hangers being rummaged through informed her that at least he was getting more clothed.

Clark: That...seems arbitrary, Um. Well tell me more about these numbers.

B-17: Did you know I can do 1,000 crunches?

Clark: Oh...impressive...You verbally assaulted the notion of an Aries return. Can you tell me why?

B-17: Completely unnecessary.

Clark: Your comments?

B-17: No, talking about him.

Clark:....About your new line with Tom Ford, can you comment on that?

B-17 is quiet for a moment before reemerging wearing a fine pressed slim cut black suit he walks up to the Ipad and pulls it up. He makes sure to allow the camera ample time to climb past his waist to his chest to his face. His hair is slicked back and his skin has a radiant complexion.

B-17: Tom Ford allows B to be, B.

Bingo moves to turns off the Ipad just as Clark tries to squeeze in one last question: What about the reports that Lei Mei has been found alive--

The screen stops moving. It rests on Bingo’s blood red Egyptian Cotton bed sheets. The screen trembles slightly. She can hear him muttering.

Clark: B-17?

B-17: I’m relieved to hear it... Now, I must go... I have some discs to return to Redbox.

The screen goes blank.

The camera pans to the announce team.

	I am starting to think Bingo and Tom Ford are more than just friends...
	Urgh!!!

	Anyway, one losing streak has got to end tonight for either Gentleman Jack or Austin Lee.
	Who will be that person? Let's find out next!

Austin Lee

vs

Gentleman Jack

The camera pans to the announce team.

	OH BLOODY HECK, HE DID IT!
	...............................

Jim Black is running through the halls of the building looking for the person he's supposed to be interviewing tonight but of course he forgot to show, causing this marathon.

Jim Black Where is this g- Wrex!

Wrex turns around to the call of his voice, and after seeing the face of the person he groans before walking ahead.

Wrex I swear to Christ I can't come to this building without of you people stopping me, what do you want?

Jim The interview you were scheduled to do?

Wrex Interview?

Jim Didn't you get the email about it?

Wrex stops and just stays silent before the almost visual light-bulb goes off in his head.

Wrex Oh.. That's what that email was about. Yeah I didn't read it.

He continues walking ahead again.

Jim Then if you didn't know about the interview then why did you come in tonight?

Wrex I was here to see Bill take on that new guy, whats his name? Jett? A small part of me kind of wanted to see the Fat f**k eat him alive, but the rest wanted greenhorn to drop him on his head a few times. Be in interesting way to end the last show before Devils night Y'know.

Jim Speaking of Devils Night, how are you feeling going into it?

Wrex I'll be truthful with you Jim, I'm feeling a hundred times better than I was expecting to. I knew my little game-plan against chunks would work, but It worked so much better than I expected, took him to his knees and he was just a f***in turtle trying to get back up. Wanted to start rewriting that tragedy of a match against Winters and that, was a step in the right direction.

Jim Do you have a game-plan set for Vincent Winters.

Wrex As much as I would love to tell you that, I'm pretty sure Winters still has a slither of brain matter left. So I'm not gonna tell you that.

Jim Alright and finally, whats next for you after this?

Wrex To be honest I've been more focused on this travelling circus than whats next so truthfully. No clue.. I'm sure those dumbass clowns must be pretty upset that only one of them got a Christmas present, might pay the other one a visit. And there is that Prince guy over on Riot, kind of want to go give him a kick in the teeth. Doubt Riot management would like a Turmoil rookie kicking crap out of one of their own though. So who knows?

Now Jimbo do you mind p*ssing off? I want to get out of here before the arsehats in the stands do, traffic will be a damn nightmare otherwise.

The camera pans to the announce team.

	Prince vs Wrex, book it!
	They are on completely different shows though.

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