The scene opens as CQC cameras find Byron Hicks stretching out in a remote and isolated part of the backstage area, inside of the arena. He was dressed in his signature 90’s era attire. Looking like a extra from the band, Nirvana. Blue jean shorts ripped from blue jean pants. A torn faded black t-shirt, a black leather jacket and black wrestling boots, along with a red and black flannel shirt tied around his waist. He looked like he had just stepped out of a time machine from a greater time in history. Hicks stops what he is doing when he notices the camera crew approaching him. He turns to face them as he relaxes his demeanor, before he opens his mouth and begins to speak to all the CQC talent and fans.
“Well, it looks like this young greenhorn is moving on in this little tourney after all. Destined to fight another day, and today is the day. Onward and upward. Seems to be that my previous opponents have fallen short, where as I have continued to press forward. I went out there in the first round and took for myself, that extra inch. Not given, but took.
Crossing that goal line, poised, ball in hand. It was like I was Barry Sanders number 20, in the early nineties, unstoppable. Like a veteran, yet I'm still just a rookie. I suppose some would call the drive that I process, as being slightly above average. Others would cast it off as beginner's luck. I would dare to say in return to both of those statements, that I believe that my drive is something much more than both of those things. And I'm for damn, sure it is something desperately needed and sought after in this industry, today. Some could even possibly even deduce that my victory in the first round, was something that the great scholars and philosophers would consider to be; the coming of a new dawn. A new era…
Byron pauses for a few seconds as if he lets you just soak it all in. As he himself looks like he is even chewing over these ideas and such theories. He then shrugs them off as he continues to speak.
“But, not me..! No..! I would consider it to be, something more easily understood. I'm simply the second coming of greatness. History repeating, things once popular, now making its way back into the limelight. Showing fans of today the truth, of yesterday, that has been hidden from them in plain sight. I have began to show them what, can be once again. Showing them the true art of fighting, peeling the curtains back slowly and revealing to them true passion. Attitude.”
Hicks pulls the camera in close and looks deep into the lens and begins to speak as if directly into the face of anyone who dare beseech him.
This sport used to be really and truly great. Before all you lazy fucks destroyed it. A place where real life titans used to do battle, inside of these old rings. Arenas used to be packed to the rafters, fans craving for a piece of the action. It’s was a time of legends, now it's a time thought about only when remembering a better time in this world. The unreachable mountain top of yesteryear. A brief unforgettable and unrepeatable moment in time. And then somewhere along the way, you useless wastes of space came in. Soft. Docile. And selfish snowflakes. Not showing up, not putting the effort in, and frankly not even that entertaining, when you do actually show up. Sickening really… But, that's all okay, now… People your savior and King has returned…. it's all going to work out in the end. You know why? Because, I...myself...Byron Hicks, didn't go soft, haven't been docile… Snowflakes, melt rather than land on my fiery greatness. I went back and did the research, in the archives. I found the answers for myself, and truly how great it really was. Then I did what none of you have ever been able to do… I put in the work.”
Byron smirks slightly he leans back from out of the lens of the camera. Realizing that it was all going to pay off in the end for him, just like he was once told it would. He didn't believe it then, but now he was a believer. He now continues to speak, this time with a hint more confidence in his voice.
“Over the years the past has become nothing more than a faint shadow, mere myth and legend, when compared to the likes of today's wrestling world. But, in fact there is something much more to it under the surface. You just have to go looking for it, and get it. And believe me when I tell you it's a treasure trove of lost technique and ring knowledge.”
I have discovered it. I have been to the mountain's top.
I discovered it, inside of a damp garage in Seattle, Washington. Inside of a rings, in basements and back yards all across this globe. Training with legends, who could’ve afforded the best facilities money could buy. Instead they choose to walk through the muck and the shit. Take things back to their roots, and forge greatness from nothingness, in particular imparting fundamentals and skill. Back to the heart and soul of the sport. Back when this industry produced Gods among men. I discovered, what it all meant. Now I am considered to a be the very best practitioner of Old School wrestling technique, and to me that is a great honor. I took it upon myself to rediscover the vast world of these forgotten skills of wrestling...I came to know them lost legends of history... I found this lost world of greatness… And then… I became its fucking, King!”
Byron's eyes become fiery as he speaks, a determined expression lines his face. He balls up his fists, pulls them up to his chest, in a fighting stance now. Hicks, continues to speak.
“Maybe, it's luck as they claim it to be or maybe, I was just better than the first set of jobbers, in this tournament? It remains to be a mystery amongst my critics. I'm sure my opponent cares, as little as I. For tonight we become more than mere strangers, we become acquainted with the other in arms of war. For tonight we fight…”
“For tonight the King fights, The King of Old School, fights on.”
The scene then fades to black as an CQC logo comes into view.
