Meltdown 152: WZCW World Champion Tyrone Blades vs Vega

Discussion in 'WZCW Roleplay Board' started by Hyorinmaru, Jul 13, 2018.

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  1. Hyorinmaru

    Hyorinmaru Sit Upon The Frozen Heavens

    Dec 7, 2007
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    RP Deadline is Tuesday July 24th at 11:59pm PST

  2. Hyorinmaru

    Hyorinmaru Sit Upon The Frozen Heavens

    Dec 7, 2007
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    **Deadline Extended By 24 Hours**
  3. Ty Burna

    Ty Burna Getting Noticed By Management

    Oct 27, 2007
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    Tyrone: Baby I've been waiting a loooong time to do this.

    Batti: You don't think it's too soon do you?

    Tyrone: We've been working up towards this for months though.

    Batti: Alright, alright, just....ease it in. It's a tight squeeze.

    Tyrone: Just relax, turn just a bit more. And there it is!

    Batti: Yes! Oh my god Tyrone I'm so excited for this!

    Tyrone: They always say you need to try something once.

    Batti: But this is such a big step for us. It fills such a huge hole for me.

    Tyrone: Trust me baby, I can see how much you love it.

    Finally, the feed cuts into the home of Tyrone Blades, Batti and Tyrone collapsed on a bed, both sweating and looking exhausted. Both are breathing heavy but with big smiles on their faces.

    Tyrone: Seriously Batti, was the California King necessary to move in with?

    Batti: Have you looked at your bed lately? How the hell do you sleep on that thing?

    Tyrone: I mean...normally I'd just drink enough to not care. Guess y'all got a point Batti.

    He leans down and kisses her on the forehead, his arm draping around her as the two settles into each other. The place goes quiet for several moments as Tyrone closes his eyes, leaning his head back, though he barely opens one eye, looking down at Batti who eyes him back.

    Tyrone: Are you sure about walking away Batti? The match with Flex didn't go as you expected and all, but you got a gift for this.

    Batti: My mind's made up Tyrone. I started to fight so I could get my hands on Flex and hurt him. I didn't win, but I got what I wanted out of it. Now I got my whole life ahead of me, that weight off my shoulders.

    Tyrone: I guess so. I just know how much you loved being in the ring, almost as much as I do.

    Batti: And I'll cherish every moment I had in there. But for now, I need to do something different. Something just for me.

    Tyrone slowly leans back up, his eyes still locked in on hers as his fingers interlace with hers. He brings her hand up and kisses it gently, a smile forming on his face.

    Tyrone: You know I got your back girl. Whatever you wanna do, I'll support you.

    Batti smiles lovingly up at Tyrone, leaning her head into his chest before her head suddenly springs up, her eyes almost sparkling.

    Batti: I'm going to go travel world!

    Tyrone: That's a great ide......Wait you're gonna do what!?! But you just moved in, and we literally just got back from Europe!

    Batti: Yeah but that was work. I wanna go enjoy myself. I'm gonna call Aquarius and get everything booked and fly out as soon as I can.

    Tyrone: Ight, ight. But man I was hoping to have you there tomorrow night with me.

    Batti grabs Tyrone's hands and looks up into his eyes, her bubbly persona disappearing for a moment as she leans up and kisses him.

    Batti: I love you Tyrone, but right now I need to time away from wrestling. I can't just walk away and then show up the next time on TV. I need that separation for right now, and unfortunately, that means we need to be away from one another, for a little while. I'll call you every night, every day, and everything inbetween ok?

    Tyrone nods as he wraps his arms around her, kissing her deeply once more as she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him. She pulls away a bit and smiles up at him.

    Tyrone: I get it baby. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do ight?

    Batti: Then the world is my oyster Tyrone.

    Batti suddenly leaps off the bed and takes off as she begins packing the clothes they just got done unpacking as Tyrone watches on. He sighs and falls back onto the bed, clasping his hands behind his head as he closes his eyes, listening to Batti keep herself busy. The camera fades out, returning to Tyrone and Mr. Jones driving down the road. Tyrone is reclined back, his feet hanging on the dashboard while Mr. Jones chomps on a lit cigar, one hand on the wheel.

    Mr. Jones: Man I knew you'd chase her away, but y'all couldn't even break that California King in before she made a beeline outta the crib.

    Tyrone: Can't be helped I guess. Once they give me more than a queen size bed or whatever the fuck hotels provide, they get intimidated.

    Mr. Jones: Oh that's rich homie. Explain to me how the fuck that works.

    Tyrone: Like any great artist, I'm even better with a larger canvas to work on.

    Mr. Jones cracks up laughing as Tyrone smirks underneath his hat as he idly taps his thumb on top of the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship. It had eluded his grasp for so long, it felt good to hold it in his hands once more. He knew what it meant. The target was firmly on his back once more, he was the top dog once again and had the trophy to prove it.

    Mr. Jones: I feel for ya homie. Finally get the title, and then your girl leaves. Seems like you always got something missing.

    Tyrone: If it's meant to be it's meant to be mo'fucka. But this title, this title was a lot of blood, a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. All that usual shit for the good guys say when they got this.

    Mr. Jones: Oh so now you're just a perfect angel ain't ya mo'fucka?

    Tyrone smirks as he slowly tilts the title up to his face, his name plate placed on the title as he runs his finger across it.

    Tyrone: Well I sure as shit ain't the devil anymore, so that's gotta count for something right?

    Mr. Jones: Yeah, yeah. Hey when we heading up to the arena man? The City's coming out in full force for you tonight.

    Tyrone: The fuck do you mean when Jones? I thought we were heading there now?

    Mr. Jones: What?! Mo'fucka I thought this was a cruisin' session.

    Tyrone: God damn it Jones!

    Mr. Jones laughs as Tyrone pulls the seat back up, his eyes seething with anger until he realizes they're at the Quicken Loans Arena. People are already lined up, many sporting Hollow Ones gear. A wide smile forms on Tyrone's face as he watches the city he loves come to life for him.

    Tyrone: Well shit, at least I was able to bring something good back to Cleveland. Stipe got knocked the fuck out, LeBron's in LA again.

    Mr. Jones: Hey at least the Browns look to be on the come up.

    The two go silent as they turn towards one another, both cracking up badly as Tyrone throws his head up, howling.

    Tyrone: Oh my god Jones, I thought you were serious for a second there.

    Mr. Jones: Dawg pound until the day I die homie, but we know how this shit goes down.

    Tyrone: Yeah, TyGod goes down, Baker sucks because he's a rookie, everyone loses faith, we got 3-13, Gordon fucks up again. Rinse and repeat.

    Mr. Jones: Nah man, Baker's the truth. You'll see.

    Tyrone: Hey if the Cavs can win a title, Stipe won a title, and I got mine, maybe there's a mini miracle we go 8-8 in there somewhere.

    Mr. Jones: Fo sho' homie. Ight, I got that interview time set up for y'all. You sure you wanted that particular interviewer?

    Tyrone: Yeah....yeah I'm sure.

    The scene fades away as Mr. Jones and Tyrone pull into the parking garage, cigar smoke billowing from the windows. It returns soon after, Tyrone standing in front of the WZCW logo, the World Title draped over his shoulder and his arms crossed in front of him. He's in his full Hollow One attire, his bandanna covering his face as he faces a camera. Just then Stacey Madison walks in.

    Stacey: Tyrone....are you sure?

    Tyrone: Bygones and all that shit right Stacey?

    Stacey's nervous look on her face disappears as she nods her head smiling wildly as she turns towards the camera, holding the mic up to herself.

    Stacey: Ladies and gentlemen I'm joined here now with the newly crowned WZCW World Heavyweight Champion, Tyrone Blades. Tyrone, I know we had some personal issues in the past, so I just want to thank you for doing this interview with me.

    Tyrone: Water under the bridge Stacey. I'm trying to let shit go for a change and not be so bitter about everything. Of course, carrying this title around smooths out a lot of shit ya feel me?

    Stacey: Let's talk about that. At Kingdom Come you defeated Eve Taylor in a classic match, although she didn't tap out and refused to give up.

    Tyrone: Look here. I know what happened leading up to Kingdom Come got ugly, real fucking ugly between Eve Taylor and me. But when it came down to the brass god damn tax, she was ready to throw down with best. And that's exactly what she is. One of the best god damn performers in this business. I know if she'd get out of her own head, she'll be right back here again. And that's a fight I want again. No fucking around, no head games, no bullshit. I told you before Eve, I wanted a clean fight. I wanted to show the world how god damn good we are and put WZCW on that next level. We put that fuckin' blood on the mat. Now let's cultivate it and build it up from there. Two of the fucking best putting on a clinic. When y'all are ready for that, y'all know where I'm at.

    Stacey: A lot of respect for your Kingdom Come opponent, I'm curious to see how she would respond to that....though it may not something she shares with me. In any case tonight you face off with Vega in your hometown of Cleveland. You said before Kingdom Come you wanted to bring that title to bring hope to your city. Are you worried about being too excited going into tonight?

    Tyrone lifts his head up for a moment before reaching up and pulling his bandanna off his face, looking square into the camera, a serious look on his face as he slaps the title on his shoulder.

    Tyrone: I told my people, I told them all I was gonna bring this back home for them. You see, we out here struggling to get that money. We trying to buy food for our kids. We wanna see the youth rise up and make something of themselves. I want them to see what that hard work gets you. What that dedication to yourself and those around you can lead you to. And it leads to this on my shoulder. Champion. Greatest. Legend. Whatever name you wanna put on me, I fucking worked my ass off to earn each one. I brought my hood with me tonight. Front row seats. I want to walk up to them and let them see that success. The success they can outshine if they do things right. This title doesn't just belong to me. It belongs to the kids looking up at the stars at night, thinking about how to reach them. It belongs to those same kids that are in the gutter, wondering where their next meals going to come. Despair and poverty doesn't have to be the status quo in my city, and god damn if I'm not gonna put everything I have into changing that. It starts brick by brick. We got one center up, now I want two, and then I want three. I want this community to grow leaps and fucking bounds and watch those that hold us down grow nervous. It's a movement. We finna take shit into our own hands Cleveland. Tonight, tonight is the night we spark that flame. Let it erupt and let's blow the fucking roof off this place.

    Stacey: Some powerful words there Tyrone, do you have any to share with your opponent Vega?

    Tyrone turns off the serious look and turns back towards Stacey, a smirk forming on his face as he crosses his arms again, tilting his head down as he thinks on what words to say.

    Tyrone: Vega, man Stacey I'll be honest I don't know much about him. I see a man struggling with his own demons and shit. Someone trying to change who they are. That much I can tell you. We walk similar paths Vega, that much is clear. But y'all keep to yourself. We in the locker room, and you're hanging on your own. Now I know I've done some fucked up shit in the past, and if you have, then come find me. Before the match tonight, after the match, it don't matter. Bonds can be forged from the unlikeliest of places, and if you got something to share, then we can find that common ground. Whether you're at peace or you're struggling, I'm willing to listen. Hell man, I've been dying to have a drink, but I got someone by my side worth staying sober for now. We all need that helping hand brotha, and maybe you don't want that hand held out for you. That's alright too, because in that ring is where everyone lays their soul bare for all to see. Bring your best, and I promise you I will do the same. And in the end, a lesson will be learned, for the both of us.

    Stacey: Laying on the philosophy a bit thick tonight aren't we Tyrone?

    Tyrone: Been doing a lot of reading lately Stacey. It's amazing what you find to do when you're not looking for the next dive bar to drown your miseries in.

    Stacey: I'm afraid to ask what else you've gotten yourself into.

    Tyrone laughs as he brushes his hair back, Stacey stifling a giggle herself.

    Tyrone: Now now, this a fucking PG-13 show after all.

    Stacey: One last question, tonight there is a fatal fourway match to determine a new number one contender. Do you have anyone you prefer to face?

    Tyrone: Nah. Though there are two men in that match I owe apologies to for back in the day. Mikey and Matt. Man, I'm sorry for what I did when the Hollow Ones started. I stole your spotlight because I was a greedy bastard and was pissed off at the entire fucking world. Mikey, I know I've caused you a lot of pain in the past, and one day I hope we can sit down and talk it out, but if you are able to win, then I guess we can work it out with our fists first. Kagura and I are even in our win-loss record, so I guess y'all could say I'd look forward to that rubber match. And beating Flex's bitch ass down once again would always be a pleasure. Either way Stacey, whoever wins that match, they better step up because I ain't gonna give up the top spot that fucking easily. Last time I held this title, Showtime and I beat the ever living hell out of each other. I survived that. I survived everything The Beard and all them assholes threw at me, damn near tore the kitchen sink and hit me in the head with it just to steal the title from me. There ain't no more god damn stealing on my watch, Vega that goes for you too. I'm the one taking everything, and there ain't a damn thing they can do about. With Love y'all.

    Tyrone throws up the deuces to the camera as he walks away, the feed fading out and returning once more in front of the large brick building where the LeBron James mural has been torn down. Tyrone stands in front of his, eyes staring at the blank bricks that once held the avatar of the city's former king. Tyrone looks down at the World Heavyweight Title, then back to the bricks before he brings his free hand up, shaking a can of spray paint a few times as a wide smile forms on his face.

    Tyrone: It's time for the city to have a new symbol of hope. Ain't that right Jones?

    Mr. Jones rolls up in a large bucket truck, chomping on a cigar as he tosses Tyrone a black duffel bag. Tyrone catches it and opens it up, revealing numerous cans of spray paint.

    Mr. Jones: Hey uh, y'all paid to use this wall, right?

    Tyrone laughs as he gathers up the duffel bag and climbs onto the truck and into the bucket. He looks back at Jones and slaps the title one more time.

    Tyrone: You think I got fucking Nike money son?

    Mr. Jones: I had to ask. You know I'm ditching your ass as soon as the cops come.

    Tyrone smirks as he pushes the lever, the bucket extending up and out towards the building.

    Tyrone: Fuck ‘em, they'll know the truth when they see it. After all, Cleveland is the city where we come from.

    Tyrone begins spraying on the wall, working swiftly as he moves the bucket all around the wall, a group of people gathering to watch and begin cheering loudly. As each can empties, Tyrone throws it to the side to the ground, sweat forming on his face.

    Tyrone: Jones! How much time we got?

    Jones: An hour before the show starts!

    Tyrone: Damn it!

    Tyrone picks up the pace, the crowd growing large as he looks around for any cops. Finally, he lowers the bucket down and hops out, holding the empty duffel bag and the World Title as Jones comes out.

    Mr. Jones: It's fucking beautiful man, your best work yet.

    Tyrone: Yeah, yeah. Aint' gonna cover everythign like I wanted, but like all things in life, ya gotta start small. Now, let's get the fuck back to the arena before we get arrested for this shit.

    Mr. Jones: Fo' sho' homie. Let's roll.

    The two climb into the truck and begin taking off towards the arena as the camera pans upward. It soon reveals the three letters CLE highly stylized, and the word Hope underneath. At the bottom is a small cross hair symbol painted, with a white background. Tyrone looks back as the crowd looks up at it in awe, a wide smile on his face.

    Tyrone: With Love, for Cleveland.

    Mr. Jones: The Hollow Ones.
    Infinity likes this.
  4. Infinity

    Infinity Starving (Martial) Artist

    Feb 25, 2009
    Likes Received:
    " Humanity is overrated. I never met anybody that understood that more than you. " -Agent Fields

    We find ourselves in a nicely adorned bar and restaurant in New York City. Vega sits at the bar staring into his nearly empty glass of bourbon while ignoring the multitude of meaningless conversations filling the air around him. He sits there in his jeans, boots and white V-neck shirt looking somewhat under dressed as the rest of the patrons in the establishment seem to have all gone out of their way to dress up. Vega lifts the glass to his lips, but before he can enjoy the final remnants of his drink, a hauntingly familiar voice distracts him.

    William De La Vega.

    Vega’s face winces ever so slightly, as if hearing this voice can cause him actual bodily harm. Almost defeatedly, he turns his head towards his newfound source of anxiety. There stands Agent Fields, Vega’s former C.I.A. Case Officer and Handler, donning a proud grin across his face while folding up a dripping wet umbrella. Vega flashes a fake smile while gently shaking his head.

    Of all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the world…

    You’re no Humphrey Bogart.

    Well you’re certainly no Ingrid Bergman.

    Agent Fields chuckles at the “Casablanca” reference while approaching the bar. He motions towards the empty barstool next to Vega.

    May I?

    Vega lifts his glass in a cheers motion, nonverbally allowing him to sit before finally finishing his drink. Fields casually takes a seat next to him as the bartender approaches from the end of the bar.

    Another Michter’s 20 Year Single Barrel, sir?

    Yes, please.

    Very well.

    The bartender looks towards Agent Fields.

    And anything for you, sir?

    Club soda, please.

    Sure thing.

    Vega suspiciously surveys the Agent while the bartender pours a new glass of scotch. The sound of club soda shooting out of the bar’s beverage gun into a long glass serves as a brief soundtrack for the two.

    Club soda?

    Sober. 4 years now.

    No Shit.


    The bartender places the club soda down between Vega and Agent Fields and garnishes it with a lime wedge. They both stare at it for a few awkward seconds before the silence is broken.

    I guess people can change.

    Fields shakes his head while staring at the club soda with unenthusiastic eyes.

    I’m an alcoholic. Not drinking doesn’t change that. I’m just trying my best to be something else.

    The Agent begrudgingly picks it up and takes a woeful sip of his soda. He places it down while motioning with his head towards Vega’s glass.

    20 year single barrel?


    How much does that run you a glass here… hundred bucks?

    Buck sixty-five.

    Fields chuckles as he shakes his head.

    Still livin’ in excess, I see.

    “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom...”

    That’s some palace you’ve got over there on 14th Street.

    Now it’s Vega that let’s out a subdued chuckle.

    You know where I live… who gives a shit? I haven’t tried to disappear. I’ve been living in the same penthouse apartment downtown for 5 years now. Why is the Agency suddenly interested in me now?

    Oh, it’s not just now. We’ve always been interested in you, William. It’s why we recruited you in the first place.

    Recruited? It was either work for you or go to prison.

    My mission was never to arrest you, Will. It was always to recruit you… by any means necessary. We were confident you wouldn’t choose prison over the opportunity we were offering you.

    And what “opportunity” was that?

    Agent Fields picks up his club soda holds it close to his eye, examining it with scrutiny.

    The opportunity to be the real you…

    He takes a sip of his soda, wishing it were scotch instead before placing it back down on the surface.

    …and stop trying your best to be something else.

    I was thief, a con-artist… you turned me into an assassin.

    Keep telling yourself whatever it takes to sleep at night. The fact of the matter is I’ve put weapons in the hands of hundreds of operatives, and not one of them has ever had a success rate as effective as yours.

    And what was my rating?

    99.98%. Shit, it would’ve been the perfect hundred if you would have completed your final mission but, y'know…

    We ran.

    And we chased you guys.

    And then you stopped.

    Well, seeing as how all of our records on both you and Alexis conveniently went missing coinciding with your disappearances, even if we caught you guys, there would have been nothing we could do.

    Vega smiles proudly.

    Funny how things go.

    Yeah… funny.

    The sarcasm in both men’s voices is palpable.

    We never figured out how you and Alexis were able to wipe our data bases completely clean of any mention of either of your names…

    I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re referring to.

    The sarcasm in Vega’s voice reaches a new level, openly mocking the Agent now. Fields does his best to deflect Vega’s taunts and continues.

    Be that as it may… you can’t be living out the best version of yourself drinking in a whiskey den after losing to giant hammer wielding Swedish man.

    You saw that, huh?

    Along with the entire world.

    Yeah, well… when you give a man like that a hammer, the entire world looks like a nail.

    Agent Fields nods his head, begrudgingly agreeing with Vega.

    This is what I mean. This isn’t Vega. The Vega I know… he’s no God damn nail. Is this seriously your best version?

    You keep saying that, “best version.” You really think a man can be at his best when he is taking other people’s lives?

    You were.

    The look on Vega’s face reads as if he isn’t buying Fields’ point of view just yet.

    Dammit Will, you’re different. You’re at your best when you’re at your worst.

    Will scoffs Fields’ rhetoric away.

    Humanity is better off with me living this way.

    Oh, come on. Humanity is overrated. I never met anybody that understood that more than you.

    Lately, I’ve been trying to find the beauty in humanity.

    Fields shakes his head in disapproval as he watches Vega take a sip of his single barrel bourbon.

    Beauty often seduces us on the road to truth. I’m looking at you right now, Will, and you look like a man that is going nowhere. You’re a stagnant stone gathering moss watching every other stone roll by you. And this is the version of Vega that is supposed to take on the World Champ in his own hometown? Get outta here.

    I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of WZCW.

    I’m watching you, Will. It’s my job.

    I thought you weren’t chasing me anymore.

    I’m not.

    Job well done, I suppose.

    Fields seems frustrated, realizing he hasn’t broken through to Vega yet.

    You know, you and that Tyrone Blades guy are a lot alike. Two people with dark pasts doing their best to live life in the light. You saw what he did before his last match? He built that community center in Cleveland… gave that old bitch a place to stay. St. Tyrone, Patron Saint of Cleveland. That what you wanna be, Will?

    World Champion? Yeah.

    No. A saint… like Blades is tryin’ to be? You’re stuck right now. It’s about damn time you start accelerating.


    In life, velocity means very little. Acceleration means everything. If you’re going 650 miles per hour in an airplane, you don’t feel it. Happiness means nothing unless juxtaposed against sadness. Eating means nothing until you’ve felt hunger. I look at you right now and you’re stuck on the ground watching the World Champion fly by you at a speed you used to live in.

    I’m one of the few people alive that have ever seen you truly at your best. In those moments, you were barely a human. It was more like you were a collection of synapses and primitive killer instincts. They say our nervous system is incapable of processing more than about 110 bits of information per second, whatever that means. It was as if you would use all your processing capabilities to the max. When you were engaged there was nothing left in your mind to feel tired, hungry or angry. It was like you were in a flow experience. You just lost yourself in the mission.

    Vega’s grip on his glass seems to tighten. His eyes reveal his discomfort with what he is hearing.

    You believe the best version of myself was in darkness?

    You embraced the darkness and made it your light. Stop losing yourself in what you think humanity needs from you. Don’t be like that silly biker.

    You’re telling me not to be like the man that has bettered his life, improved his community, fallen in love and become World Champion all at the same time? Tyrone Blades is the embodiment of what I am trying to accomplish in this company, and in my life.


    What the fuck do you mean, “bullshit?”

    I mean bullshit. I don’t have a microphone, Will. You aint cuttin’ some promo. This is me, and you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’ve seen you put bullets in people’s heads and forget their names a week later. You don’t give a damn about how Tyrone Blades is livin’ his life.

    Agent Fields looks over to his half-finished club soda and picks it up. He stares at it again, this time with even more contempt than last time.

    The man quit drinkin’ after the whole Eve Taylor debacle. He’s like me in that sense… just a man trying his best to be something he’s not. The community centers, the sober living, the hero’s speeches… there all signs of a man overcompensating for a past he is ashamed of. He’s trying to use positive accolades as a means to erase the man he used to be. Blades is trying to be something he’s not. That’s were the similarities end. Because, I know you… and you’re not ashamed of your past.

    Yes, I am.

    No, you’re not. You want to be ashamed of your past, but you’re not. And the fact that you’re not ashamed is what you think about most. You think about whether or not you’re capable of being a normal human being. That is what haunts you most. That is what keeps you up at night. Not the memory of the people you have killed… but the fact that you don’t remember them at all. You’ll never be the man Tyrone Blades is pretending to be. You’ll be even better, because the ability to disconnect from the fraud of humanity is your greatest weapon. It is why you are the most dangerous man not only in that company… but perhaps in the entire world… when you want to be. I’m here to help you embrace your best version once again. I’m here bring you back to the man you used to be.

    Bring me back?

    The Agency wants you back.

    You stopped chasing me. You’ve got nothing on me.

    It’s not you we’re chasing. We’re not holding prison time over your head this time. We want you to return, but only if you choose to do so.

    And why do you think I would ever willingly choose to return?

    Because you know everything I have told you about yourself is true.

    Vega struggles with how penetrating Agent Fields’ words have been.

    I don’t want to leave WZCW.

    Fields realizes Vega is struggling to process everything in the moment.

    We’re not asking you to. I’m asking you to return to your best version of yourself… in and outside of the ring. Earlier you said “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom…” William Blake, right?


    Well do you know the rest of that quote?

    Vega inhales deeply and holds it, almost as if stalling his reply. He exhales and obliges in reciting the rest of the quote.

    “You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough.”

    You’ve lived your life crossing the lines that the rest of humanity wouldn’t even dare to approach, and you did it with a smile on your face. The thing is, Will… I don’t think you ever reached your limit. You haven’t had enough because you want it all. “More than enough” isn’t a phrase you are familiar with.

    Agent Fields stands up from his bar stool.

    Just think about it.

    Vega stares into his glass of bourbon once again, lost in thought. Agent Fields picks up his club soda and goes to finish it, but second guesses his actions while shaking his head and places the drink back down on the surface. He picks up his umbrella, still wet from the rain, and shakes it off a bit.

    Who are you guys chasing now?

    Now? Same person we've always been chasing. We’re still trying to accomplish your final mission.


    A somber look comes across Agent Fields’ face as he stands there preparing to leave.

    This whole thing, our entire history? Recruiting you... it was never about you. It was about her. You may be trying to change your life, but she hasn’t. Nothing is ever what it seems with that woman. Alexis Escobar is not to be trusted.

    Fields reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a business card with his information on it. He leaves it on the bar counter next to Vega’s drink..

    Be careful, William.

    The bar’s door swings open behind Agent Fields as a well sized bearded man dressed in jeans and a leather motorcycle vest walks in dripping wet from head to toe. Fields turns around to see the drenched biker walk in without even attempting to dry himself off. The Agent shakes his head while pointing at the small puddles on the floor.

    I bet you wish you had a car on a day like this, huh?

    The soaked biker smiles confidently while shaking his head.

    Nah. Just wish it wasn’t rainin’.

    The bearded rider walks towards the bar, nodding politely at Vega as he walks on by and takes a seat at the other end of the bar. Vega looks at Fields, who seems pleasantly confused by the biker’s response. He opens the door and looks towards his former recruit one last time before exiting the bar. Vega briefly sees the rain outside before watching the door close shut. He looks down towards the business card for a moment, studying it thoroughly before turning his attention towards the end of the bar. He watches the biker order a drink and just continues to stare at him as the scene comes to an end.


    Vega, drenched from the rain, is in his elevator heading up to his penthouse apartment. He brushes his damp hear away from his face as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open. Vega heads down the hallway, leaving wet boot prints in his path behind him. He reaches his door, unlocks it and turns his lights on as he walks in. That’s when he stops right in his tracks to find Alexis standing there dressed in all black tactical gear holding a gun and aiming it towards Vega’s head. He stands there speechless. Slowly, Alexis uncocks the gun’s hammer and lowers the weapon before finally speaking.

    Will… we need to talk.

    The two stare at each other in silence as the scene comes to an awkward end.
    Ty Burna likes this.
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