Titus: Are you crazy Tyrone? You're putting your career on the line?
Tyrone: Oh I'm sorry, did you prefer to go into a handicap match for your Eurasian Title?
Titus: Well....no. But you know Banks is going to throw out every trick in the book to make sure we lose.
Tyrone: No shit Avison, that's why we got our ace up our sleeve on our side. Ain't that right Jones?
The scene opens to the locker room after Ascension, the Eurasian Champion Titus Avison, Tyrone Blades, and Mr. Jones walking towards their rental cars. Jones grins as he carries all the bags for all three men with ease. Tyrone pops the trunk to his vehicle while Titus has his limo pull up. Jones tosses Titus' bags into the limo while Tyrone sets his in the car.
Mr. Jones: Way I figure it, now we got them mo'fuckas right where we want them. Keaton and Xander been a thorn in our side for a minute, we got an opportunity to take them out of the picture and take out that buffer Banks got built around him.
Titus: Tyrone's career and more importantly my title are on the line though Jones. We could lose everything in one match.
Mr. Jones: Gotta risk it to get the biscuit Titus. I'll be out there to make sure no bullshit happens. Ayo Tyrone, we hitting the bar up after this right?
Tyrone: Fo sho Jon.....
Tyrone suddenly trails off as Batti suddenly rushes past Jones and Titus, grabbing Tyrone by the collar, a look of anger on her face.
Batti: Blades-Sama, what the fuck was that?!
Tyrone: I'd say a perfectly competitive match between two highly technical wrestlers.
Batti is clearly not happy with that answer as she pulls on his collar, staring him dead in the eyes as Jones and Titus move to pull her off Tyrone, but he waves them off.
Batti: You told me to go out there and give everything I had, yet you took it easy on me. You're not a technical wrestler, you're a striker and you didn't throw one punch at me! How am I supposed to feel? Now they're all going to say I got a cheap victory on you that shouldn't count. How is that going to help me Blades-Sama?
Tyrone: And why do you care what they all think Batti? No matter how it went down, in the record book it's going to say Batti defeated Tyrone Blades.
Tyrone lifts his hands up, placing his hand on top of hers as he stares back into her eyes. Despite her best efforts her anger starts to dissipate from his calming touch and look, her grip on his collar loosening as she sighs. Titus suddenly interrupts the tender moment the only way he can.
Titus: So.....are you two done? I rented this flamethrower and I didn't get to use it so what say we go set some stuff on fire before I need to return it?
Jones perks up at the sound of that, looking over at Tyrone for a moment before Titus lifts the flamethrower and backpack up. Jones grins and claps his hands.
Mr. Jones: Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit Avison I think that's the best idea you've had since you joined this club homie. Let's get it. Tyrone you and Batti in?
Tyrone and Batti share a look, a smile forming on Batti's face as Tyrone nods his head.
Tyrone: Yeah, we're in. Batti y'all wanna ride with me, Jones, you go with Titus and meet us out at the junkyard outside of town.
Mr. Jones: Ohhhhh shit I ain't gotta drive? Avison let's go homie!
Titus grins wide as he drags the flamethrower into the limo as Jones follows him in. Batti rushes over to her car and grabs her bags, handing them to Tyrone as he places them in the trunk. He closes it and the two hop in as the limo takes off before them. Tyrone fires up the engine, the load guttural roar of the engine vibrating the windows as he does so. As he begins driving Batti relaxes in the passenger seat.
Tyrone: Batti, that's on me for not giving you my best. How can I make it up to you?
Batti crosses her legs as she looks over at Tyrone, a flirtatious smirk forming on her face.
Batti: How about you just give me your best later tonight.
She winks at him and a wide grin forms on Tyrone's face as he exits the parking garage, shifting gears as he takes off down the road, quickly passing by the limo as Jones hangs out the window yelling out at Tyrone. Tyrone holds his hand out the window, flipping off Jones as the scene fades away, returning to outside the junkyard. A few lights illuminate the ground around the corpses of old vehicles and piles of twisted metal. Tyrone's Impala pulls up just under the street lamp as they wait for the limo to catch up. Tyrone turns the volume up a bit on the stereo, as they look around.
Batti: Are you sure Blades-Sama that we can be here?
Tyrone: This is Cleveland Batti, I ran these streets for many years just to survive. No one's ever here at night. I've seen some shit go down here before.
Batti: Like what?
Tyrone chuckles as he stretches his arm over the top of the bench seat of the Impala, leaning his head back for a moment.
Tyrone: Things no one should ever have to live through. But it made me who I am, and that's why I ain't afraid to put everything on the line at a moment's notice.
Batti: Will you be willing to put everything on the line with me next time?
Batti slowly slides over right next to Tyrone, leaning her head against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around her, the two softly illuminated by the blue glow of the stereo. They go quiet, just enjoying each other's presence. There was a difference to his relationship with Stacey and now Batti, a gentleness and a caring that had been void of the previously fraudulent dance. His fingers twirled through her hair as she slowly lifted her head up to look at him. She leans up as he leans down, their lips parting
Titus: LET'S LIGHT SOME SHIT ON FIRE!!!!!!
Titus comes flying across the car, flamethrower in hand and backpack of gas on as he runs into the junkyard, flames flaring up into the sky as Jones hustles behind him.
Mr. Jones: Ayo Avison, save some for the rest of us mo'fucka!
Batti jump a bit as Tyrone can't help but shake his head and laugh. He looks towards Batti who blushes a bit as he shrugs his shoulders towards her.
Tyrone: Well, you heard the man, let's go set some shit on fire.
Tyrone opens the door and the two exit out as they rush to catch up with Jones and Titus. The scene fades briefly before returning, Batti holding the flamethrower as she aims it at a crushed vehicle while Titus, Tyrone, and Jones sit back, passing a bottle of whiskey around.
Mr. Jones: Yo, you sure we should be drinking while messing with a flamethrower?
Tyrone: We're in the middle of nowhere, and it's just metal. Nothing could go wrong.
Mr. Jones: True, true. Hey we ain't been home in a minute Tyrone, we finna visit Ant's grave before we gotta blaze out again?
Tyrone: Definitely. Batti and I can pick some flowers up in the A.M. before heading over there.
Batti: What was that Blades-Sama?
Batti turns around, absentmindedly pointing the flamethrower at the Hollow Ones.
Titus: Batti what the hell?!?!
Jones, Titus, and Tyrone all jump behind a pile of junk, Batti looking completely innocent.
Mr. Jones: Ayo girl, turn that flamethrower the other way. Ain't anyone ever tell you not to point a flamethrower at someone?
Batti: Well I can't say that I have....
Tyrone slides out from behind the pile and quickly walks up to Batti, turning her back towards the car.
Tyrone: It's all good. Here, let's give Jones a turn.
Tyrone takes the flamethrower and gas and tosses it towards Jones, who immediately ducks as it lands in front of him.
Mr. Jones: Tyrone, what the fuck!?!
Tyrone grins as he takes Batti by the hand and the two start walking off deeper into the junkyard leaving Titus and Jones to their own devices. He starts looking around, finally finding a safe place for them to sit. He motions for Batti to follow and soon they carefully scale a pile of rubble to a flat surface. They sit down, Tyrone spinning the top off the bottle and taking a drink. He hands it to Batti who takes a drink as well, coughing a bit from the sting. She laughs as he smiles in return, placing his arm around her.
Batti: I don't want to lose you Blades-Sama. So you better win at Unscripted.
Tyrone: Ain't nothing to worry about Batti, I'm not going anywhere any time soon. Not when I got you giving me a reason to stay.
Batti slowly reaches up and wraps her fingers around his, leaning her head against him again as she sighs.
Batti: Just wish things didn't have to be so complicated. My career, Ramparte, Banks, Vis Imperium....you.
Tyrone: It's only complicated if you let it be.
Batti and Tyrone finally lean into one another, their lips finding each other as she wraps her arms around his neck, him pulling her onto his lap as they begin kissing more and more. When suddenly a loud explosion can be heard followed by the sound of Titus yelling.
Titus: OH CRAP, THAT CAR HAD GAS IN IT STILL! TYRONE WE HAVE TO GO!
Batti's eyes open wide as they both turn towards a large plume of fire erupts into the sky.
Tyrone: Oh fuck! Let's go!
Tyrone and Batti get up, helping each other down the pile and immediately take off like hell back towards the entrance. As they reach it, flames have already spread in front of it. Jones and Titus yell at Tyrone and Batti to get out of there. Tyrone turns towards Batti, speaking as calm as he can.
Tyrone: Do you trust me?
Batti nods, though her face is filled with fear. He slides off his hoodie and puts it over her, with the hood covering her face before he grips her hand and points towards the fire.
Tyrone: Count of three we go. One.........two..........three!
The two start sprinting towards the fire, the flames licking Tyrone's skin as Batti keeps her head covered as best she can. The flames seem to have no effect on Tyrone, though as they finally emerge from the flames, some of his hair seems to be singed and smoking. Batti lifts the hood up from her face, looking up at Tyrone.
Tyrone: I'm ok, are you?
She nods as Titus and Jones run up to them as Batti presses close to Tyrone, the three Hollow Ones taking stock with one another before turning and walking towards their vehicles, the fire still burning behind them. Titus stops suddenly and grabs the flamethrower and gas, tossing them into the fire before running quickly to catch up. Tyrone gives him an odd look.
Titus: Gotta get rid of the evidence.
Tyrone smirks and laughs as he pats at his hair, putting the smoke out.
Tyrone: Now you're thinking like a Hollow One.
The scene fades away as the limo and Impala soon take off quickly from the crime scene.
This game has gone on too long. People's lives have been fucked with far too much in this war. Families broken up, happiness used a weapon, and everyone that surrounds me has suffered. They support and they fight for me. Yet they hurt them the worse. Physical pain is nothing, I've torn my body apart day after day and I battle through each injury. I've fought hall of famers. I've fought legends. Battled my friends, retired rivals. I've grown tired. Every night I lay awake, staring at the ceiling wondering what more I can do to save the company I love. Another hall of famer in Titus has joined my cause, and Batti has offered to help, but those I fight for, they say and do nothing. Oh right, I was the god damn devil for the longest time, but I think I've made my intentions clear now. I'm going to put everything I've worked for on the line to get rid of Vis Imperium. I'm going to offer up my own livelihood in this company for them. I'm willing to sacrifice EVERYTHING for these people to make this company the place for them to thrive. I don't want any appreciation. I don't want anyone to come up and say thank you. I want them to stand up and take this company back from those assholes. Until then, they'll mire away in misery, hoping for the scraps that Banks tosses them. Is my career being on the line worth it to save these people? Banks.....Banks.....Banks.
Finally the scene reopens to Tyrone sitting in a dark room, his hands clasped in front of him as a chuckle escapes him, his eyes staring straight forward, his hair falling down in front of him.
Tyrone: Are y'all as tired of hearing about Banks and Vis Imperium as much as I am talking about these pricks? I sure as fucking hell am. So let's talk about everyone else. Yeah, I lost. I maybe didn't go out with the viciousness I normally do to win. But that takes nothing away from Batti's victory. She came in, and did what she needed to do to win. Simple as that. She deserves that match at Unscripted, and I couldn't be more proud of her.
Tyrone brushes his hair out of his face, slowly pulling his bandanna up over his face and his hood up over his head. He reaches back and grips a baseball bat, holding it in his lap as he leans his head back, his eyes receding into the familiar darkness. Laughter escapes him, almost borderline maniacal as it echoes through the empty room. Oh how easy it would be to slip into old habits, to bring out those monstrous instincts. He takes a deep breath, pushing those thoughts back yet once more....or at least tries to.
Tyrone: Eve Taylor. You get to be the hand picked assassin of that asshole. You get to deal a dent to the side of my armor. I'm going to fucking destroy you. See while I am fighting for WZCW, I also watch everyone else. You don't deserve any praise from me. You don't get to pretend that you give one iota of a fuck about this company. Because all I see is a woman so vain that she pretends to be happy for everyone else around her. A woman that only cares about herself. You try in vain to get into the World Title picture, yet you throw away each chance you get. Do you remember the last Lethal Lottery? You were the favorite over everyone, myself included. And I tossed you out like you were nothing. Because that's what you've become. A bit player in the grand scheme of things. Once part of the fearsome Cerberus, one of the best Elite Openweight Champions. The world was yours, you were the rose everyone adored. And now you've wilted away, becoming an after thought. What happened to Eve Taylor? Eve Taylor became a joke. They all say it, she's a choke artist, she can't get it done when it matters. Lethal Lottery, Gold Rush, you couldn't even qualify for King For A Day. My girl Batti has more fucking gusto in her pinkie than you ever will. You hear that every waking moment in your head. You let it devour you, eat away at the very fibers of your being. Poor beautiful Eve Taylor. She went from being the shining jewel of WZCW to a dull lifeless rock. Let's all feel sorry for her.
Tyrone slowly stands up, spinning his bat in his right hand as he walks back into the dim light, his eyes still staring straightforward, the light flickering in and out of them. He holds his bat under his arm, slowly sliding on his gloves one at a time as he continues on.
Tyrone: Why? Why feel sorry for a fucking failure like you? I listen to you each week wax poetic about fading away, your insecurities gripping you around the throat. Where is your god damn will to fight? Where is your desire? This is why the likes of Constantine and myself are always superior. We will ourselves to succeed, even when things do not go our way. You on the other hand sit there and pout in the fucking corner, waiting for someone to pat you on the shoulder and say, it'll be ok, there will be another opportunity. Wait for that next hand out. You're no better than those Vis Imperium motherfuckers. They're relevant as long as they're deemed so by management. They don't work towards shit. They open their mouths and wait to get the regurgitated shit down their throats like baby birds. There's no difference between them and you. Oh but this is your big break now isn't it? Defeat the great Tyrone Blades, get in good with management, and maybe JUST maybe they'll give you a bone to gnaw on. Give you that small spotlight to stand in so everyone can say how good you are right?
Tyrone suddenly slams his bat down onto the ground, the wood splintering all over as Tyrone continues slamming it down over and over again until there's nothing left but the handle. He throws it right at the camera, cracking the screen as it slowly spiderwebs across the feed. He breathes heavily, his voice almost seemingly deepening suddenly.
Tyrone: You're not getting a fucking thing from me Taylor! You want to fade into the darkness? I'm not Chaos Incarnate anymore, but I'm still down with the fire and brimstone. I'll send you right to where you want to be. I'll take you straight to the type of hell I've lived in. You wish to be the pathetic woe is fucking me broken soul? I'll make that happen. I'll be the fucking bad guy. I'll be the one that shows you the ugliness in your god damn soul. A rose that grew from concrete is what you believe yourself to be. While Tupac wrote those words, he always knew that it doesn't take much to walk all over that flower and push it right back down to where it came from. I've watched as my family was broken. I've watched as someone I trusted closely be a wolf in sheep's clothing. I've had to put down my friend. I've been forced to fight another. I've had fucking barbed wire rip my arms to fucking shreds. I'm still standing. I'm still fucking fighting for what I believe in. What do you believe in Eve? You show your selfishness every week, and yet you don't even believe in yourself.
Tyrone turns and retrieves another bat, slamming it hard into his hand as he starts to pace back and forth, disappearing into the darkness and reappearing in the dim light as he continues moving. The familiar rage grows in him, a low growl escaping him as he stops in the dim light once more.
Tyrone: I believe in what this company represents. I believe in the mission I started. I believe in making things right by everyone. But you, you are not what this company needs Eve. Even our little match preview says you've stayed out of the fight. Why? Because you don't fucking care about WZCW or anyone else in it. You don't want to make this this greatest wrestling federation it possibly can be. All you fucking care about is yourself. So I'm going to do what is right for this company and erase your pitiful fucking attitude off the map. Run along to your little drinking sessions with Selena. Gossip all you like about me and what your bitch of a friend Stacey did to me. Laugh it the fuck up because I'm finna to let her just sway in the wind waiting for something to come back on her. But here's the thing Eve, my name is always on everyone's tongue. They all gotta talk about me. You? Your name is just a lost echo in the woods. So go ahead and say I started your downfall. That this is your chance at redemption. I don't fucking care what you say. All I see is another baby bird, helpless and flightless, just waiting for mother to come back and take care of her. Keep reaching out desperately with your cup asking for change, you're not getting a dime from me. You have all the talent in the world, and none of the fucking courage. Those VI bitches have nothing on what you can do, but they stand their snickering, holding you down. You didn't fight back. You avoided the confrontation. You don't get a seat at the table when The Hollow ones make things right. The young ones may be afraid to fight, but you had the world in your hands, and you just let them pick it off the ground and run with it. So now it's up to Titus, Constantine and myself. I know you hate us. Because we're what you should become, greatness. Instead you sit there and wallow in your fucking despair. And all I can see Taylor, is just another wrestler with wasted potential. Another one that just fell off to the side. They come and they go, they try to box with gods, and when they get knocked down, they break down to self pity. I don't have time to play your games Taylor. I have two motherfuckers that need to be broken at Unscripted. I an putting everything that defines me on the line. I have no time to let you try and get your shit together. This is the culmination of this war. I will bring pride and honor back to this god damn company, even if I have to drag it there on my fucking back. They looked to you once to maybe be the next great one. They don't give you one bit of fucking attention now. When the spotlight fades away, all that's left is a broken woman lost in the shadows she thinks is her savior. The Hollow Ones are the front line in this war, and now you just walked into the crossfire. And that last sound you're gonna hear is that Click.
Tyrone lifts his bat up, pointing it directly at the camera before swinging and shattering the glass completely, leaving the feed black.
The Hollow Ones