After the meet up with Empress last night Ashley Moore can finally stop worrying about the whole situation. There is only one thing that still bugs her. Does Valkyrie already know where her parents are and just pretends they are missing to blame her.
Ashley Moore: Is she still using this stupid fitness tracker? I once followed her secretly and you could see everywhere she went.
She grabs her phone and downloads the app Fit Brother. Once opened she looks after Valkyrie’s account Unicorngirl97 and finds out that she still didn’t disable that everyone can see where she goes.
Ashley Moore: Hmm, this is strange. She didn’t move since last night. And why would she be in this dangerous area for so long?
Ashley Moore: Do I even care what she is doing there? Of course I do. Don’t you say, keep your friends close and spy on your enemies whenever you can, or something like that?
She drives near the location the app told her and goes into the empty warehouse. She starts to look for Valkyrie. From one of the room she can hear a person sobbing.
In the room she sees two tattered mannequins with pictures of Valkyrie’s parents and in the middle of this room one of the goons from Empress’s apartment is sitting on a chair. Next to him there are ropes and a baseball bat lies in front of him.
He is holding his knee in pain and doesn’t even look up when she enters the room, so that he doesn’t realise it is not the person who did that to him.
Goon: Please. Please. Stop! Stop!
And the scene fades to black.
We cut to the set of Cort Marshall’s new interview show, Straight Talk! The set is simple--a desk, two chairs, an old-school painted board background with the New York skyline on it, and not much else… aside from an audience of extremely scruffy-looking individuals. Cort strides onto the set to the applause of the attendees, wearing the same suit as last time.
Cort: Thank you, thank you, the pleasure is all mine! Now since I’m not an egotistical jackoff like the other sad-sack interviewers in OCW, let’s get straight to the point! Come on in!
He throws a hand to the other side of the stage and Tre Golden walks in, looking guarded. Tre looks around, staring suspiciously at the audience and at Cort. Still, he sits down. Cort sits as well, behind his desk.
Cort: So let’s start right off, these have been a tough few weeks for you--been losing quite a few matches, eh?
Tre: I put my all into my matches, I leave it all in the ring, losing to the men I have brings me now shame, and I promise you, when you’re in the ring with me, you know you’re in a fight.
Cort waves a hand, brushing Tre off.
Cort: Of course, of course. But you know, personally, I did just pin the world champion in the middle of the ring. Just a preview of what’ll happen when I cash this baby in!
He pats the briefcase on the desk.
Cort: Speaking of origins… you’re from this allegedly beautiful city of New York, yes?
Tre nods.
Cort: This stunning mecca of feces and rent fees, this shining monument to how GULLIBLE people are! I mean, why do people even live here? Because it’s been in some movies? Because it has a big fancy statue? Look at these people, Tre… THIS is your city!
He sweeps a hand over the audience, and Tre looks with him.
Tre: I don’t follow.
Cort: HOMELESS, Tre. These are all bums! Bums I paid to be here! These are the leeches that infest your termite metropolis! Look at these stupid, ugly--
???: HEY!
One of the audience members stands up, clearly having had enough. Cort immediately stands up as well, pointing down at him with all the fury of a white woman whose stupid, too-many-Y-having name was misspelled at Starbucks.
Cort: You better sit down, buddy. You take one step at me and you’re not getting the fifty bucks I promised you to be here!
The "fan" does so, and Cort sits down as well. Tre shakes his head in disbelief.
Tre: Man, this is ridiculous. What gives you the right to treat people this way?
Cort stares back.
Cort: The fifty bucks I paid them? Get with the program, kid, when you hold the cards you can do what you want. That’s the principle capitalism has thrived under for all of human history!
Cort: Next question… are you afraid of becoming irrelevant? It can happen to… some of us. Not me, of course.
Tre stares angrily at him.
Tre: When you scurry about like scared little mouse, winning by any means, cheap shorting people, that’s when you become irrelevant.
Tre: I on the other hand go out from behind the curtain and I put on a show every time my boots touch the canvas, that will ensure that I’m not only relevant, I will become immortal in the fans hearts.
Cort rubs below his nose.
Cort: Not even if you encounter a bit of a problem with the ol’ nose candy?
Cort smirks and goes to light up a cigar, but Tre stands up and smacks it out of his hand! Cort looks shocked as Tre looms over his desk, staring daggers into the impertinent Arizonian.
Tre: Now that’s too far. You can say what you want about me in-ring, but that was my business and mine alone. And I put it behind me. You said you invited me here to explain yourself, not continue with your petty insults. You gonna do it or what?
Cort ignores the question, staring after his lost cigar.
Cort: HEY! These aren’t the dime-store smokes your daddy left ya to go get! Those things don’t come cheap, sit down!
Tre continues to loom over his desk, unwavering. Cort sighs and stands up, staring back.
Cort: You want to know why I did it? I was helping you. Trying to teach you the lesson this company taught me!
Cort:
You can’t rely on anybody. I was really starting to like you, Tre… then I realized what that meant. Just another traitor to stab me in the back. Or maybe someone would do it to you first.
Cort: Then I thought… what if it was me? What if I gave him the push he needed to realize what I did, before he was out for a month with a wrist injury inflicted by his former “best friend!”
Cort: It was inevitable. I gave you a warning as to what would happen if you didn’t start to rely on yourself and NOBODY else! And yet I still see you palling around with that SHMUCK Cobra! Who’s he gonna take out his next loss on, hmm?
Tre: You’re delusional. I’ve always stood up for myself. I considered you a friend, but I never NEEDED you. I’ve carried more weight longer than you’ve been in this company!
Tre: I think I know what this is really all about. These people…
He throws his arm over the bribed homeless crowd.
Tre: The stupid jokes, the jabs. The excuses.
Tre: You’re afraid, Cort Marshall. Of me. You’re afraid that if you had to fight me, one on one… you couldn’t do it. You’re afraid that when you cash in that briefcase, you will still walk out empty handed.
Cort: I can put away anyone in this company, let alone a chump like you!
Tre: That right huh? Then why don’t we have a match… at Consequence. Or hell, next Riot, for all I care. You need the crazy beaten out of you.
Tre:
Maybe the mat can knock some sense into that thick skull of yours, and when I walk out, arm raised… you’ll realize that not everything in life is about YOU.
Cort: Au contraire, sunshine, it IS about me. I am your future investment holder. I am the man who will walk out of one of these shows--any one of these shows--OCW champion.
Cort:
You want a match, you got it! People will speak of me in hushed tones of REVERENCE when I retire! And what will be left of Tre Golden?
Tre: The man still continuing to carve out his legacy. Don’t get it twisted Cort, win or lose, I’m making sure you don’t walk out of the ring under your own power.
The scene fades out with both men staring each other down.
