[Foreword] When I think of Sean Chandler… I envision the pinnacle of perfection… Why? Because the waves of sound that pan around me are filled with hearsay. I’ve listened hard and well and have come to expect no less than Godhood… or at least the Deity’s right-hand man.
In comparison is to that of Mel Gibson’s character in “Braveheart”, ‘William Wallace’. He could shoot "lightning balls from his eyes" and "fireballs from his ass". Mythology... Nothing more, nothing less. I mean sure, William Wallace led a troop of ragged old farmers into battle with a large British army and succeeded... But he still died. That's the moral of the story... In the end, you still die... With Sean Chandler it will be no different... Sure... He may put up a fight... He may live half-way up to Heaven in his hype... But in the end... He will perish and find an uncomfortable solitude in my currents...
[Scene] Darkness... Nothingness... The scene is settled in on just that. But the void of sound is in full effect. A barely audible clattering can be heard in the distance. On top of it is echoes of several conversations coming together as one. It's as if the universe has broken free of its restraints and everyone is free to float among the masses. Slowly the focal point begins brightening to a state of blur. It's impossible to make anything out. The scene glistens into full clarity. The camera captures Josh Sutton sprawled out on the floor amidst several empty liquor bottles... No surprise. Fingers move, showing signs of life. Sutton slowly climbs to his hands and knees, crawling indignantly away from the smell of sweet barley and rye. You watch as he attempts to climb to a vertical base, staggering backward into the before unnoticed kitchen table. He knocks it back several inches, tipping over a half empty(or half full for the optimistic) bottle of Bacardi. He makes the save quickly and expunges the rest to quinche his thirst. He tosses the bottle down amongst the rest, ridding of it like a whore in the Red Hook sections of New York. Josh runs his hand over his temples slightly then scratches his ass.
Sutton: Ugh... Now I know how Krystal Holly feels after an all-nighter with the WWW roster...
[Scene] Josh cracks a slight smile and pulls out a chair, taking a long while to actually sit down. He indugles in a cigarette which he quickly lights. He sucks half of it down and exhales a deep carbon smog.
Sutton: Yesterday I sat down in this very chair to reflect on recent events... To digest the verbal garbage upheaval being orchestrated by Sean Chandler and his WWW comrades. And uh, to be honest... It was a waste of my time.
Sutton: For a solid month now I've attempted to piece together this puzzle. And I've come to the very end... only to discover that the final piece is missing. So the conclusion is extremely distorted. World Wide Wrestling enters into the realm of RWN... They, like so many others, come in looking to make an impact. Hey, I'm all for that...
[Scene] Sutton inhales another quick fix before putting the cancer stick out on the table.
Sutton: But when you come in and step on my toes to try and solidfy your feds' status... I don't appreciate it. I didn't make my career on being a fucking parasite. I worked my way up the ladder. I started at the very bottom... Where ironically the WWW is today... But that aside... I ascended to the top. Not by using cheap underhanded tactics. Not by calling out the impact players in sight... No... I took what I could get, when I could get it... And gave a helluva lot more back.
Sutton: You know... Sean Hunter asked an interesting question... What kind of man plays chess? I do, Mr. Hunter. But unlike McKlayn, my pieces are psychological. I make others move in a line of conformity. It's amazing how soon one can forget...
Sutton: Perfect example of one's narcissim: Why... It was just last month when I made YOU, Sean Hunter, move in that very line...
Sutton: The self proclaimed man of 'perfection'. Now one would be led to believe that the 'perfect' specimen would have the same credentials when it comes to morals... But sadly, I was mistaken. He disrespected me... He called me out time and time again... I said "Hey... Prove yourself." Did he? No... What he did do was push the button enough times to set me the fuck off... And when that happened, it all fell apart for one of the two WWW Golden boys. I sent Sean Hunter back home to WWW in a box filled with ice, covered in blood from head to toe... And make no mistake about it, I enjoyed it...
[Scene] Sutton nods his head as if to add exclamation to the statement. He flops his hands on the table, locking his fingers together in a tight web to support his chin. A snide look comes over him.
Sutton: But what I didn't enjoy was his offering up of a fluke... The match was somehow won by luck... How, Mr. Hunter? Explain to me how... At what point did luck strike? Before or after I smashed your face with my glass imbedded knuckles?
[Scene] Sutton becomes a little annoyed as he rises to his feet once more, a bit more balanced than before. He paces with his hands behind his back...
Sutton: The only luck in that match was you leaving the ring alive...
Sutton: I musn't waste anymore of my thoughts on you, Hunter... You're a notion of the past now, and nothing more... Painful I know... But then again, we must all move on. And so I shall... To one, Krystal Holly...
[Scene] Sutton closes his eyes as if to envision her then licks his lips.
Sutton: I wonder if it will taste as good as it will look... Your blood that is... You see, precious, you've ran me down for far too long... You're at the center of this and you've failed to realize that. You've been the one to press the needle the farthest... And that's something I cannot let go unheard.
Sutton: I remember it so well, Krystal... As I drove my fist unrelentlessly into the flesh of your cohort, Mr. Hunter... As I felt his sweet copper-like blood run onto my lips... I thought about you... I thought about what delight it would bring me to wrap my hands around that vile little throat of yours and choke until the flesh melted in my grasp... Immoral? Who cares? In my world, women are still slaves to men and machine.
[Scene] Sutton roams back to his seat, rotating it to face the camera.
Sutton: But we simply cannot forget the main course. That's right... Sean Chandler... The bundle of pride and joy that the WWW offers up as a God. A superficial God, in my opinion. But nevertheless, from what I've heard, he's a force to be reckoned with... of course... hype plays a major factor in wrestling these days.
Sutton: Tell me Chandler... Are you hype? Are you nothing but a false Deity? I think so... But I don't doubt your intelligence and will, Mr. Chandler. After all, you manipulated an entire company into nothing more than a flock of sheep. That takes a little bit of talent. So I tip my hat to that... But that's all the credit you'll be sucking away before our encounter...
Sutton: I truly do hope you are all the man that your choir preaches and not another 'tall tale'... Because facing a lesser man would simply be like fucking without the foreplay... I want to feel it... All the way inside... I want to know you... Everything about you... Your psychology... Your motives... Your being... Give it to me... Give it all away... And then... I will leave you, battered, beaten, and raped of half the man you once were...
Sutton: Sean Chandler... Can you hear it in the distance? It's not a hurricane a blowin'... No... It's so much more... It's your fate... It's my destiny... As the winds push them closer, you will discover... When the water hits and the pain surfaces there will be no where for you to go but beneath the isolated currents of my undertow... And that my frie...
[Scene] A knock brings Sutton's attention away from the subject at hand. He sways to the door, half-heartedly answering it. As the front door opens, a set of cold black eyes stare back into the focal point of the camera through the screen door.
Sutton: Joshua Payne...?
[Scene] The scene slowly begins to fade out as Payne nods at Sutton with a profounding grimace.