The Highway Man comes riding

[AMW]

"The wind was a torrent of darkness, among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor.
And the Highway Man came riding...

Riding, riding...

The Highway Man came riding
up to the old inn door-

Voice 1: What the hell is this?

Voice 2: What?

Voice 1: The music. What the hell?

Voice 2: What? That's the way people do it now, isn't it? Set the mood with some random song, get the viewer pumped for the inevitable disappointment that is to come when they follow up their neat song choice with a bunch of dumb nonsense or sob story whine-fests that have nothing to do with the WRESTLING or BUSINESS aspects of the wrestling business. I was just following the model. Don't wanna break the mold too early, yknow? We might scare people-

Voice 1: ...Congratulations Brandon, you've probably pissed off half the promotion before I even had a chance to make my first mark. I think this is a new record for you.

Voice 2: Score! I always like new records!

Voice 1: ...Just turn the fricken camera on.

[At first, there is nothing. Then, there is light! And sound. And well, okay it's a video camera coming to life not the Big Bang or anything, but you get the idea. Our scene opens up to a wrestling ring. The ring itself is set inside of a large bunker-like area with windows shining light in from high up near the ceiling. There's a glassed-in area off to the side with a number of exercise equipment, an open classroom area on another side and a number of office rooms next to that. A large banner with the words "N O T O R I O U S W R E S T L I N G" in red letters with a gold outline hangs above the ring.

Two men stand in the ring. One of them, the taller of the two with short dark brown hair and ice blue eyes, wears black workout shorts and a black t-shirt with "REVOLVER" written in bold white font on the front, while the second smaller latino man sits atop the top turnbuckle wearing tan khaki pants and a red pop shirt with a Superman S-Shield logo patch that has "NW" in red lettering over the breast pocket. The first man leans against the top rope as he stares out into the camera.]

Adrian: There's an old cliche saying, I'm sure most of you have heard of it. 'Home is where the heart is.'

Brandon: Home is Hoooome Star Steeeeew.

[The taller man shoots a glare at his associate.]

Adrian: Wrong jingle, and no, that's not what I was getting at.

[He turns back to the camera.]

Adrian: I'm sure most of us have homes, right? It's where we go to relax after a big tour, let off some steam, maybe enjoy time with our loved ones- yknow the things 'normal' people do.

Brandon: Haha, wrestling and normal people-

Adrian: Brandon.

Brandon: Sorry, sorry. Carry on.

Adrian: Now me, personally, I've got all that too. Got a great little house, a gorgeous red-headed wife to come home to, the love and companionship of friends and family. All that good stuff. But at the end of the day, if I really stop and think about it?

[He pauses before pushing off the ropes so he's standing up straight again.]

Adrian: THIS is my home.

[He points down at the ring itself as he speak.]

Adrian: "Home is where the heart is," and my heart belongs to this ring. Not THIS ring exactly mind you, but the ring that any one of us step foot into when we go out and do what we're paid to do for a living. My HEART belongs to this sport! And yes, I said SPORT. Too many people take the SPORT of wrestling for granted, and let me guarantee you right now if you do that while you're in the ring with me you will be sorely, sorely disappointed.

My name is Adrian Tanner Jr. I have been called many things in my career; Amazing, Astonishing, Awe-inspiring, but what most of YOU will come to know me as... is the Arizona Assassin.

That's not a name I take lightly. And no it doesn't mean I'm going to run around claiming to kill people or anything like that because that's just dumb. They call me the Arizona Assassin-

Brandon: Because he comes from Arizona, duh!

Adrian: ...

Brandon: Sooorrry!

Adrian: ...They call me the Arizona Assassin because I have a tendency to attack you much like an Assassin would. I'm going to pinpoint any weakness I can find, whether it be physical or mental, and then I'm going to exploit those weaknesses and I'm going to tear you down until you're a blubbering mess on the floor.

Oh and I'm probably gonna kick you in the face a lot too.

Brandon: It's the best part of the job!

Adrian: True that.

This guy right here is my best friend, my brother-in-law, my brother from another mother, Brandon Young. He's my second, and I couldn't ask for a better guy to get me ready to wrestle week in and week out.

Brandon: Ooooh, does this mean you've finally come around to-

Adrian: No bears.

Brandon: But-

Adrian: No. Fricking. Bears.

Brandon: ...Fine. Spoil sport.

[Adrian just shakes his head with a chuckle.]

Adrian: PCW! I have to admit, I... don't know much about you. But I DO know that you have to have good taste an eye for talent, what with throwing yours truly straight into the main event for a World Title shot and all!



Adrian: Okay, so really you threw everyone who joined into this thing, but a guy has to "play the stereotype" for fun every once in a while am I right?

Brandon: I'm sure there are plenty of people already who did that unironically.

Adrian: Thank you Ted, that was the joke.

Brandon: My name's Brandon, jerk.

Adrian: ...Again. Joke, you, whooosh.

[Adrian waves a hand above his head.]

Brandon: Ah ha ha, very funny smart guy.

Adrian: I thought so, yeah.

But seriously, PCDub. What exactly can I say really? I'd sit here and run down all the names in this ginormous clusterfuck of a match, but well, I don't know anyone in this match and I think there are more than enough people who've wasted hours of airtime doing that very thing already. So no thanks.

I'm gonna make this short and sweet because as they say: "quality, not quantity."

Do I think I have much of a chance of walking in on my first night in the company, in the Main Event, and for a World Title shot no less, and walking out the victor of the whole thing at the end of the night?

Nah, not really. There's too many variables and for as good as I am-

Brandon: -And he IS pretty damn good, folks.

Adrian: Yes. For as good as I am though, I've been around long enough to know Battle Royales suck and don't ever go the way they're 'predicted' of going. So no amount of "I'm gonna win~" is gonna suffice.

But that doesn't mean I'm not going to go out there and do everything in my power to do JUST THAT anyways.

[There's that smirk again. You will learn to hate that smirk. Almost as much as Adrian loves it.]

Adrian: If I lose, no biggie. I'll get there eventually.

But if I win?

Well, that'd be just swell wouldn't it?

Brandon: Fantabulous even!

Adrian: Make no mistake gentlemen and ladies, just because I'm predicting I might not win doesn't mean I'm not good enough to do so. I am.

I am very, very good at what I do.

[He stares into the camera, a determined look in his eyes.]

Brandon: And what're we gonna do pay-per-view night, boss?

Adrian: What do we do every night, Pinkie?

Brandon: Try to take over the world? Narf!

Adrian: Right!

[Pause.]

Adrian: ...No wait. The other thing.

Brandon: Plot to destroy Tokyo?

Adrian: Eh, that was only that one time.

Brandon: Squash roided-up meatheads under our giant robot's boots?

Adrian: No. But that's always fun. Also let's not mention the obot-re, et-ye.

Brandon: Oh, my bad. Uh... Fly through the air with the greatest of ease?

Adrian: Closer.

Brandon: Dazzle crowds with high-flying aerial artistry the likes of which have rarely been seen?

Adrian: Even closer!

Brandon: Make bitches eat their words in death-defying displays of awesome? Make it so that win, lose, or draw the person EVERYONE is focused on most of all is Adrian Freaking Tanner Jr?

Adrian: Ding ding ding!

Brandon: The best of plans. I'm glad I thought of it.

Adrian: ...Right.

Brandon: What? I did!

Adrian: Sure sure. Anyways, PCDub. I'll see ya'll in the ring.

Just, yknow, don't be too surprised if I'm the last one standing in it.

[Another coy grin.]

Brandon: And that's the way the cookie crumbles!

[Adrian turns, tilts his head, and stares at his friend for a long moment.]

Adrian: ...

Brandon: ...What?

Adrian: I- You-

...Just turn the damn camera off.

[And lo does the Arizona Assassin walk off, chuckling to himself and shaking his head once more. Brandon hops off the turnbuckle and out of the ring, heading over to the camera and reaching for the off-button.

Brandon: ...Nobody ever appreciates the classic.

[And we fade to black to the sound of the Young Gun grumbling to himself about something or other.]

--See you, space cowboy.