--Fade
In--

The building is old, abandoned. The walls are high
concrete, the floor a cracked slab, and the ceiling open steel trusses. Windows
rest high above, some broken, others covered with filth creating a filter for
the bright light that beams in from the outside. In the middle of the floor
sits an old and retired wrestling ring. The posts are flaked with rust, the
apron torn and tattered, the ropes sag and the canvas creaks as the man
standing in the corner turns to smile. He leans against the turnbuckle his
black cowboy hat pulled low, and his left boot tucked neatly on its toe behind
his right. He waits patiently for things to move closer before he begins to
speak.

color:#CC0000">I was born into this business. Not many people come into the
world knowing what's expected of them from the time they take that first deep
breath and scream. My daddy was a wrestler, working in Knoxville, TN
all his life in one dive club, small National Guard armory, or old high school
gym one right after another. It's how he met my mama, and how he spent his
weekends. He would get up early everyday and run through our old neighborhood,
dogs barking after him, so he could stay in shape. Then it was off to work at
the sawmill until five, home, and then an hour in the basement with me
practicing holds. When I was still shitting yellow he would bring me to the
shows and sit me in the corner so that I could watch as he helped to hang the
ropes. It was there that I reached up for the first time, grabbed hold of that
old cattle rope wrapped with electrical tape and pulled myself up to my feet. I
took my first step inside a wrestling ring. This is all I have ever
known. 

Lifting
his hat from his head and repositioning it. He takes a step back. He folds his
arms across his chest. He turns and looks up to the old ceiling and then down
again to the remains of the old ring.

color:#CC0000">Many of us go through our whole lives not ever stopping to
really think about who we are until some kind of sick, twisted or completely
horrible thing brings us around. Then we are left standing there looking in the
mirror and asking ourselves, "Who am I?" I've found myself doing that
a lot lately. A whole lot. Outside of wrestling, I've lost everything I had. My
wife has left and took the money with her, my acting career never happened, and
my kids...my kids don't look at me the same way they used to. Christ, sometimes
I think maybe I'm just getting old. Seriously, what the hell is a guy who spent
his life, since he was fifteen years old, bashing people in the head with
chairs, jumping off the top of ladders, and kicking out teeth supposed to do
when it's all said and done? I've seen it all before. I've seen the guys who
live this life riding high on the hog, spending big, and talking even bigger. I've
seen those guys crash down hard. Then they show up on some bullshit, reality show,
sobbing into their Cheerio's about their former glory.

He
turns his back and walks across the ring. It creaks in protest as he pulls
himself up and then turns to sit down on the top turnbuckle. The ropes shake
violently as their tension has long since left them. He takes off his hat
again. This time running his hand through his long hair, briefly before putting
the hat back on again.

color:#CC0000">I never really thought that I would be where I am today. I
always knew, deep down, that Will Sabre was supposed to go out in a blaze of
glory right in the middle of the ring. Lying on his back and looking up at
those lights. Instead, I found myself on the verge of riding the last train to
hell, because I didn't have anything else to do in my life. Sure, I thought
about coming back and sitting backstage trying to help out those young guys,
showing them what this business is all about...but the more I considered it.
The more I wanted to chew on lead. I'm not that guy, I'm not some fifty year
old beat up has been who thinks he still has one good match left in him even
though he's got two artificial hips and needs vallum to get to sleep at night
without tears. No, I've accomplished a lot in the business of professional wrestling
in a very, very short amount of time. I've held championships, beaten some of
the best, and lived through hell and all before my thirtieth birthday.
No...that's not me...I'm not old a useless.

color:#CC0000">So the question became "So, what the fuck are you gonna do,
Will Sabre?" You going to lie down and die...or are you going to something
else...something special? So, here I am. With truly nothing to loose, back once
again inside a wrestling ring, ready to do what God put me on the face of this
Earth to do, compete. I'm sure the boys are lining up all ready to go, foaming
at the mouth to get a piece of the old dog. Truth is I welcome it. I'm begging
for it. Like a modern Spartan I am back to find my "Glorious Death."
I walked away from the WWF for honor...and I lost everything I had at home
because of someone else's pride...but I've come back to wrestling and to ELITE
to finish what I started. Will Sabre's as sharp and cold as he's ever
been...and you better believe it when I say I am the Edge of
Excellence...because if you don't...

color:#CC0000">I'll cut your God damned head off.

He
winks as he smiles that signature smile, and the scene begins to fade.

--Fade
Out--

--End--