A run down farm is the scene, a farm right near the heart of agriculture in Boston, the type of place you really wouldn't expect a farm to thrive, hence why it's not. A young schoolboy running the errands that the farm owner is too old, or in honesty, just don't want to do himself. The dirty jobs, the nasty jobs, and some the darn right dangerous jobs. The schoolboy rummages in his pockets and picks out a crumpled up piece of paper and flattens it out on the engine of one of the combine harvesters.
"Aaron; Tasks - Monday 15th March, 2003
Clean out pig troughs
Arrange pig feed
Faulty spindle on front of combine - CAREFUL - Wear gloves."
Yeah, like as if a quarter inch thick woven glove is gonna stop my hand from coming right off if that Harvester starts going at the wrong time. The list continues but, he's read enough. He don't even know if any of this is even worth it. He needs a reminder, he needs something to work towards. A rummage in his pockets one more time for a second piece of paper. This one though, properly folded in quarters, he looks after this piece of paper. He carefully unfolds it and stares deeply at it. A clip-out of a clothing magazine of a pair of bright green wrestling boots. Only quarter high, white laced and approximately six weeks of his wages in cost, Aaron has seen his reminder. He has seen everything that he is prepared to work for......
Now he got them, he looks at them, stares at them. The same boots that put him through months of working on the farm. Yeah, six weeks for the boots, but it takes more than a pair of boots to become a wrestler you know. The school fee, the different attires that he's worn and grown out of and just grown to hate, but only one thing remained the same. The boots. The boots that have caught Aaron's attention for the past three minutes straight, leaving his long-time friend seemingly speaking to himself, until a nudge on the shoulder brings him off the farm and back to the locker room, and the pep talk.
Ryan Sutherland: This. This Aaron, this! This is exactly why your staring at an eight and zero record on the bad side. Concentration man. You say your ready for this, I come and try and sort your head out and you can't even listen to me?!
Aaron Asterisk: I appreciate it, I do, you know I do. It's just, I keep thinking back to how it was before man, when me and you were both going to become the best tag team in the world, and we would take over...
Sutherland: You need to stop thinking about that man. I have. I've had to. No point wallowing in what could have been. Everything happens for a reason and my motorcycle incident... exactly the same. Look at me now. I hung the boots up by force, and now, I'm earning sixty thousand dollars a year doing something that I love to do. Something else. Yes wrestling was my first love I know, but I had something else because I had to find something else. This is your love, and your in the prime of your life to reach out and grab it. Overdrive, it's not far away. You got a tough competitor but I've watched you overcome three on ones, four on ones back in training. This eight and nothing. This one hundred percent loss record you got. It ain't you man. It ain't yo and you can't let it become you more than you already have done. You remember why your theme song is what it is don't you?! It's our formula to success man. "Ten percent luck, twenty percent skill....
Asterisk: Fifteen percent concentrated power of will. Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain, and a hundred percent reason to remember the name." Yeah.... Yeah your right. your right. I can do this, I was born to do this. Jacqui Monroe, nothing against her, but she's the one that's just in the wrong place at the wrong time.... My place... at my time.
Asterisk rises to his feet and goes to leave, Sutherland follows.
Asterisk: You know, I always was the better rapper out of you and I too!
Sutherland pleads his case disagreeing as they leave the locker room.
