Welcome to Reality....Part I, Respect Is Earned

-={ The scene fades in from the fuzz on your screen. In front of you, you see a small pub, windows out front.
As you look up, on a streetpost hangs a sign that says "Fritzel's" and the music sounds like jazz coming through the windows.
You decide to walk in. The place is packed. You take a table that comes open just as you walk in and
quickly a waitress is there to take your order. She seems pretty enough. }=-

Waitress: 'Ello there....wot can I git ewe?

Reporter: Um....bourbon, please, neat. Thanks....

Waitress: Rouight....

-={ The waitress scurries off and as she does, you think in her very cajun accent. You sit back and listen to the piano player.
After a few moments, you see the waitress coming back with your drink. She sets a napkin down
then sets the drink down on top of that. She smiles quickly and scurries off again.
You sit and listen to the music some more and start to glance around the room. New Orleans at Mardi Gras
is certainly a very happenin' place. Sitting in the corner of the room, you reckonize someone.
The club is very smoky though, and so you can't make out who it is. You sip your drink a bit more and
you see that person get up and make his way towards you. It's Skarrphace. He looks a bit drunk as he
staggers toward you, but gathers himself as he approaches and sits down, drink in hand. }=-

Skarrphace: Mind if I have a seat here? Sure ya don't....

Reporter: Didn't expect seeing you here, Mr. Skarrphace. Taking in the scenery, I assume?

Skarrphace: You could say that....I always like to arrive in town for an event as early as possible....I have a lot of friends just about everywhere I go, and as you know, my time is very valuable to me....do you like this song?

Reporter: Sure, but I haven't the foggiest clue as to what it is....

Skarrphace: You need to learn your jazz history, boy....this is a song called "'Round Midnight" by T.S. "Thelonious" Monk....recorded back in 19-something or other....he actually did this song right here in this very club back when greats like John Coltrane and Dizzy Gillespie frequented pubs like this....I thought I'd get away from the glitz and shit surrounding this world title tournament and soak in some atmosphere, get me really focused on this guy Nocturnal....

Reporter: Speaking of him, he had some rather rude words to say about you in his most recent interview....

Skarrphace: I'm not surprised, man....he's just like every other wrestler that thinks like he does....yappin' on and on about respect me this and respect me that....what is so hard for me to understand is how they have gotten around in life with apparently NOBODY respecting them, because it's ALL they bitch and complain about....but my question to them is when the fuck are they gonna learn that respect is EARNED....it is NOT given away....and the only way you get my respect is by facing me, man to man in the squared circle. You think you get my respect, Nocturnal, by killing a man? In that case, let me get a blowjob right here during my interview, in the middle of this club, because there are 20 females that wouldn't touch you that would do that right here, right now for me. But do you think that will get me respect? No. Why don't I take this little reporter guy here, some innocent man...take him out behind this building and beat him within an inch of his life....and let the entire world see me do it....would that earn me respect? Hell no. When I spoke of reality, I still think you live in a fantasy world, that world in which you are the ruler of all things, big and small, and those things with which you have control over, in your own mind, are things like people's live and my life. Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Nocturnal. You own NOTHING. The only thing you have control over is your own pathetic excuse for a life, and when Sunday rolls around, even THAT will be in my hands.

-={ The waitress comes to their table and refreshes both their drinks before she turns and leaves again,
sensing that the reporter and Skarrphace require more privacy.
Skarrphace continues as the music keeps playing. }=-

Skarrphace: Symbolic. That's what you called what you did. Killing a man. Symbolic of what?!? How you're going to KILL me on Sunday night? I think not. First and foremost, wrestling is not a game of LIFE or DEATH. It is the way a man like myself, a pure athlete, makes a damn good living. That's REALITY. The world in which you live, Nocturnal, this is what? A way of sacrificing people to the Dark One so that you may become more evil? *laughs* That's rich. Listen, people like YOU is what's wrong with the sport of wrestling today. You maim, kill, destroy things and people as if they have no meaning in this world. Since when did you become GOD, Nocturnal? The GOD, the one true GOD, will take you down in a heartbeat, son, but that is something I will not get into at this time. And here I see you are speaking of the 'Phace like I am a "rookie with potential"? How nice of you to say that, Nocturnal, but let me inform YOU of something. I have been champion before, and I will be champion again. And the way I see it, you've been around long enough....you say you've won title after title after title. That would indicate to me that your time....has come....to an end. The future is MY world....the future is MY time. And your past begins on Sunday night. The Reign of the ONLY 1 THAT MATTERS is to begin with a victory over the old-timer Nocturnal....let the world rejoice because the Dark One will be silenced.

-={ Skarrphace stands up, takes his coat and slings it over his shoulder.
He stops a moment and then lays the coat back down and sits back down. }=-

Skarrphace: You know something, Nocturnal...it just occured to me. It is YOU that don't have a chance against ME. And this is one thing you can't control. The ONLY way I will respect you is if you beat me, fair and square, in the dead center of the ring inside the Superdome on Sunday night. I know I will be there. Can you say the same? Go train your ass off, Nocturnal, because you will need every ounce of energy....every ounce of stamina....every ounce of will to survive, much less have a chance at winning against me. But the fact of the matter is this. When Sunday night rolls around, and they call us out to the ring....it won't be a matter of LIFE or DEATH....it won't be a game of cat and mouse. It will simply be Skarrphace, mounting up and riding all over your dark ass, whippin' your ass like it's never been whipped before. And then, it will be YOU that respect ME. But unlike you, Nocturnal....I don't demand respect....I earn it....and when you face the ONLY 1 THAT MATTERS....you will know....the game has just begun and YOU cannot win. And now....I must go. Until next time, Nocturnal....sleep easy, if you can.

-={ Skarrphace picks up his drink and finishes it, taking out a 100 dollar bill and laying it on the table.
He pats the reporter on the back before heading out of the pub.
The sounds of the music still fill the air as Skarrphace disappears into the New Orleans night within seconds.
The scene then fades to black. }=-