[A white screen.]
[Nothing but white, a static image of white, if one were to stare at this screen for any longer than an hour it would be conceivable to get snowblindness from the neverending whiteness. With that settled, let's move on. Slowly but surely, black letters gradually scroll onto the screen, they seem blurry but still legible.]
[The letters gradually trail off leaving the whitness again on the screen, soon another set of letters comes scrolling onto the screen from the opposite direction as the last set of words.]
[As those letters leave the screen another set soon replaces them in scrolling onto the screen from some unknown location.]
[And just as before, those letters slide away and for a moment we are left without letters to see. But soon more letters scroll onto the screen just as they have before.]
[As those letters leave the screen, there seems to be a pause, and just as a few moments have passed void of activity, Marcus Gaines comes triumphantly walking on camera, yet it isn't an exact representation of the Marcus we all know and love. He seems taller, with a better build, his hair seems longer, and overall he has a much better appearance.]
[He smiles into the camera.]
Gaines: Hi. You may be wondering what you're doing here, or perhaps even where you in fact are. Well, as odd as this sounds, you; [Dramatically points towards the camera.] are in my; [Slides his hand smoothly through the air and points to himself.] mind.
[Marcus begins walking to his left, as the camera slides along with him, he talks very matter of factly to the camera.]
Gaines: How is that possible you ask? Well I'll tell you. It is in fact, the future, through the marvel of technology, humanity can transport what is called a psycho-scopic camera into the mind of an individual to see what that person is thinking.
[Stops walking and looks into the camera with a sideways glance.]
Gaines: How Orwellian, eh? [He callously waves his hand in the air and shrugs off what he just said.] To be honest, what I just said was a total lie. I have no idea about the hows or the whys. I just know that you're here, and it's my job to show you around.
[Begins walking to the left again and the camera follows him along.]
Gaines: Now, forgive me if I get to "matrix-y" on you, and I hope this doesn't start to seem like Bill and Ted's project at the end of their adventure. But everything you see, touch, smell, and feel are only a figment of my imagination. The very representation of myself is how I see myself. Meaning it might be a bit better than how I actually look, or worse, you the viewer can decide for yourself.
[He stops walking, and holds his hands out, as if trying to touch the air itself, and slowly turns a full circle, remaining talking as he does so.]
Gaines: It can get pretty damned complicating inside of my mind, I know this better than anyone, mainly because I'm the only one who is ever in here. You should feel privileged, you all will be the first ones to journey completely through someone's mind. Sure, it's been done in movies such as Friday the 13th: Freddys Dead but has it ever been done with such style and flair? I don't think so. Now, onward and upward. In most people's minds, you could expect to see any variety of things, scary surreal dreamscapes, nightmarish fantasy worlds. In mine, it plays sort of like Van Halen's music video for there hit song Right Now. What sets me off isn't actions, it never has been, it's words. Whenever I get angry, it's a pretty safe bet, it's because of something someone has said, or a way they put it. I'm not a big hater of actions. I am a big hater of words.
[Marcus stands still as if looming and imposing his figure onto the camera, and in the blink of an eye, he has disapeared. As the white screen seems to occupy more and more of the screen, another bit of scrolling black lettering appears on the screen.]
[As the words dissapear from the screen a small door appears seemingly out of nowhere. It opens with a rusty creeking sound, revealing an excruciatingly dark chamber, revealed on each side by swampy track lighting, seemingly hanging from nowhere, illuminating nothing. Entering the room, we take a look around us, seeing nothing but the black space that in effect consumes us, and draws us farther into the room without ever moving a foot.]
[Out of nowhere a fire ignites several feet away, it's an odd feeling, but it's as if this fire is in the very center of this dark room. As the fire's intensity grows, it illuminates a small circle around it, uncovering Marcus sitting cross-legged looking in every direction all at once. He raises an arm motioning to draw nearer, and the distance between us shortens, until the flame from the growing fire is directly in front of everything. Marcus smiles a wispy grin, that disintegrates upon his face, leaving a sullen gaze in our direction.]
Gaines: [His tone of voice is not what is most commonly heard as Marcus Gaines, it's a more peaceful, calming version of the man.] It really may not look like it, but this is the center of my brain where most functions involving thought are carried out.
[He looks around peacefully at his surroundings.]
Gaines: It's a little dark and drab, but it's home. I think the purpose of your visit, isn't really to understand me at all. To be truthful, I have no idea why in the hell you're here. Shouldn't you be off chasing squirrels or something?
[As if floating, everything turns, and we begin to exit the room, Marcus stands and motions for us to come back.]
Gaines: Okay, don't take such offense at the things I say. Lately, my mind has been full of things to toss through, this upcoming matchup for a title of some kind, the idea that maybe I can have a shot at Debra Coleman afterall, and trying to find a Willy Wonka golden ticket. It's always good to see I have my priorities straight, eh?
[Marcus stands up completely, and circles carefully around the darkness consuming fire.]
Gaines: First off. I think that the outcome of this whole wrestling match is very easy to decide. Let's see, reasons why Stryker should win? There are none, as far as I can tell the man is a nobody, a nothing, I've never heard of the man, I didn't even know he existed before I saw that I had a match against him. The man is technically a ghost, he has nothing tying him to this title he holds onto so closely.
[Pauses for a moment.]
Gaines: I, on the other hand deserve things more. Who is the person who has done just a bit more for the GWA as a whole? Let's see, I single-handedly got that walking joke, Barret Whistler out of the sport, possibly permanently. And I, uhhm... I did somethign else somewhere along the way, I'm sure. But the point that I'm trying to make here is simple, if the fact that I have no idea who Julius Stryker is says anything it's that he must obviously not be very important. So how is it he holds a title here in the GWA? My conclusion is that he just does. Why bother trying to explain things that really don't matter?
[Marcus, his hands behind his back peeks behind him at something unseen, then back towards us.]
Gaines: Let me show you something.
[Without hesitation, a motion of rising upwards is brought on, and then being flung forwards, towards what? Nobody knows just yet. And suddenly, a pastoral field surrounds us, green, gold, blue, red, all the colours of the rainbow surround everything else. The sound of feet crunching atop snow is heard, and the feeling of pivoting around is felt, and in the new direction, a snowy wasteland is seen, with Marcus standing atop a tall snow bank, overlooking the paradise that once was beheld to us.]
Gaines: I can't set foot off the snow.
[He looks down at his feet, with a scornful glance, then back longingly at the pasture.]
Gaines: That, my friends is a happy place. That one place that if I were able to, I could escape into when all seems bad. I'm not quite sure how it is that I could be able to set foot on the green grass. But I have a feeling it has something to do with the whole Maximus title thing. It would have to or your whole trip into my mind has been extremely useless.
[The snow underneath Marcus' feet slowly begins to melt away, along with Marcus himself, all soaking into the grass, which steadily, with each puddle of water being created, slowly becomes a rotting wasteland of burnt grass and hollowed logs. Looking around sees this and only this, a voice from everywhere around rings true throughout the decaying meadow.]
Gaines: It's impossible to make sense of what happens inside. Come to your own conclusions. Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo....
[His voice disappears into the wasteland. Leaving a feeling of emptiness in it's wake, the snow continues melting, until everything around melts into obscurity... and we all find ourselves back exactly where we were before entering the mind of Marcus Gaines.]
