Steve Corino vs. Hawk Boy

[Steve Corino (T)]

The scene opens to a new surrounding. Not that of the common locker room, but of a empty building with a bright light in the center of it, lighting up an older looking wrestling ring. Every sound echos inside of the building, this become relevant as a set of feet bounce off the walls. The image of a man comes into focus, a split down the middle of his hair, half black, half blonde. The man known as Steve Corino steps into the ring, wearing a black suit, standing out compared to the all white ring. He takes a deep breath and looks around the building before staring into the camera. A blank expression painted onto his face as the camera gets closer, he prepares to speak by clearing his throat.

"I figured since we were in Pennsylvania, I'd go take a look at my old stomping grounds. I've never seen the mats here so clean, I'm use to seeing it splattered in blood stains. The old bingo hall, sure hasn't changed much. A lot less bingo being played here though. Some hardcore icons were made in this building and they all put their bodies on the line. This was hardcore, not that crap they pull off with all of the garbage wrestling. We weren't wrestling in front of a bunch of drunken rednecks, we were wrestling in front of a bunch of drunken wrestling fans. The hardcore aspect was an added bonus to them, they loved seeing wrestling, not that crap up in Connecticut. People think I'm just old and washed up, like a lot of guys who started here. Randy Orton thought that and look what happened to that punk. I guess I was right when I said you were past your prime."

Steve lets out a longer laugh then usual, letting the fact that he beat the younger Orton in a match sink in for the viewers watching it. The blank expression soon comes back and he turns his attention to the camera.

"And now, I face some joke called Hawk Boy. Another coward to face, but this time, behind a mask. I can respect wrestling families, but some people just can't live up to that legacy. I imagine Hawk Boy is a good example of that. You can talk a big game, but that proves nothing inside of a ring. Ryder, Slim, Orton, all examples of those who thought they could beat me and what happened to them? Another win in my book. As for you Hawk Boy, you're just another loser I have to face. I don't care about your family's past and I don't even give a damn about you, but I have to take some of my own personal time to meet you in the ring and destroy you like everyone else. You're my final stepping stone in my path to glory. So I suggest you do what everyone else did and fall down to the KING!"

Upon shouting the last word, Corino throws his arms high, smiling proudly as he looks around the building for one final time. He begins making his exit from the ring and the giant light turns off, leaving nothing, but the echo of his footsteps. The camera fades to black and cuts back to the arena.

EORP

[Hawk Boy (H)]

(FADE-IN: on the Nest. A golden leather, handcrafted bucket armchair from which the DHWA’s enigmatic superstar HAWK BOY calls him home. Perched in the chair, HAWK BOY holds a cigar in his left hand and wafts beneath his nose, inhaling deeply the aroma of the fine (and probably expensive) Cuban in his grasp.)

HAWK BOY: “Ah, the fine things in life. I wouldn't presume you people viewing this at home would ever understand what that would mean. You associate ’fine’ with words like out of my budget and the man.  I wouldn't expect ANY of you to get it. 

“But I do, however. I'm used to the finer things in life because I deserve them. Much like David Wilson, who deserved the beating he received from my hand.  He deserved to be embarrassed amongst the masses he demanded attention from. The cacophony the inept aroused on his entrance and the sound of twenty thousand breaking hearts. 

“Sheer poetry in my opinion. 

“The only opinion worth heeding, if I do day so myself.”

(HAWK BOY chuckled as he rests the cigar in an ash-tray to his left.)

HAWK BOY: “Your hero was so adamant that he would make a point with yours truly he underestimated my ability to render him unconscious. It was a sight to see. Pitiful. I stared down at him, lying there, string of drool to the canvas in la-la-land having passed out from my application of the rear naked choke and have my hand raised victoriously. 

“It is to laugh. 

“The man at the helm of DHWA has understood my potential. I march forward to victory as I come to face Steven Corino. A man who has forged his identity in the blood of his own and the blood of his combatants. A long list of men whom he has gone toe-to-toe with in bloody battles over generations and his career comes to an end at Friday Night Massacre when he meets the Hawk.”

(HAWK BOY snickers under his breath.)

HAWK BOY: “Yet another one of my opponents underestimating me. Underestimating my ability. Underestimating my superiority over the so-called competition in this Hell hole of a wrestling promotion. A man who will lay at my feet trembling with cowardice as my fist is raised high and I step closer to the Smoking Skulls Heavyweight Championship. 

“How’s it feel, Steven?  How's it feel to be yet another rung in my ladder to victory?  Hmmmm?  You say I’m just another loser you have to face assuming you will be able to grind me beneath your boot’s heel, however you’ve neglected to take into consideration my undefeated streak here in DHWA. 

“You've neglected to comprehend that I dispatched with a man who outweighed me and stood over me with a near half foot advantage and I made him pass out in my clutches. The referee ended that competition for fear of David Wilson’s miserable little life, Steven. 

“Be sure to get your affairs in order, Steven, prior to our engagement for I shall not offer you the same courtesy in which David Wilson received. That was escaping with his life. You... How I despise YOU and everything you stand for. You've made a career out of spilling your vital fluids for the wanton bloodlust of the imbeciles with tickets.  You've cost many men their lives forging the path which you've cemented. 

“Do you think that you are an adequate role model for the children, Steven?  Do you think what you've achieved in your career projects what our industry wishes to portray?  The safety of our ever impressive children was in your hands, Steven, and you told them it was okay to be cut open and bleed like stuck pigs all for the sake of a dollar. 

“You told them it was okay to get inside their backyards and throw each other around like rag dolls without any comprehensive training.  Idiots like YOU, Steven, portrayed professional wrestling in an abominable light that we are nothing but troglodytes Hell bent on commercializing nothing more than street level violence on a bigger screen. 

“Your history does not impress me.  Your trails and tribulations in Philadelphian bingo halls fails to allure me. It sickens me. You sicken me. And we when go head-to-head at Friday Night Massacre, Steven, I promise you one thing.”

(Rubbing his hands together, HAWK BOY cannot contain the maniacal chuckle.)

HAWK BOY: “I shall end your pathetic career right there and then and step onwards to claiming my championship and stand on top of the Hill.

“Then you shall bow down to me, Steven. Albeit difficult to do so from the wheelchair you'll live the rest of your pathetic little life out of. 

“You shall bow down... Or bow OUT!”

(Fade to black.)