Post by Meatball-kun on Apr 2, 2014 20:45:30 GMT -6
Matthews Residence
Chicago, Illinois
Present Day
Sofia Sinclair: "So...this is really you."
Chuck smiles.
Chuck Matthews: "In all my brutal and bloody glory."
Sofia nods slowly.
Sofia Sinclair: "How in the world a professional wrestler gets tangled up in all these sorts of things is beyond me...but I guess stranger things have happened."
Chuck Matthews: "We have a knack for finding trouble. It comes with the job."
Sofia rolls her eyes.
Chuck Matthews: "So...what? You're okay with this?"
Sofia nods, slowly.
Sofia Sinclair: "I mean...It's new. I guess it'll take some getting used to...but it looks like you fit right in. And you seem happy."
Jessica Casey: "I don't like it."
The three of them sit in the living room, where Chuck has a recording of the EXODUS show playing on the TV. Chuck and Sofia sit together on the sofa, with Raylyn and Gavin, Jessica's children, laying between them. Gavin is sprawled across the middle cushion, his tiny hand dangling off the side of the couch. Raylyn is curled in a little ball, her head next to Chuck's leg. Jessica herself sits in an armchair nearest the TV, relaxing with her legs thrown over one arm, and her head resting against the other like a teenager. Chuck frowns at her. Jessica had temporarily moved back in with Chuck in Chicago, and had been staying with them for the last few weeks. With her husband on the road with PDW, training Danny Kane, Jessica was struggling to raise her kids while simultaneously working as a doctor with sometimes unpredictable hours. It was Chuck that had presented the idea. He tried to pass it off as though he was doing Jess a favor, but he had a nasty feeling Jessica knew his true motives. The two had always been close, even closer than Chuck had been with his oldest brother, Paul. Perhaps it was their close proximity in age: Jessica was only a year older than Chuck, which besides Paul and Chris, was the smallest gap between any two of the Matthews siblings. But even then, Jessica and Chuck connected, somehow, despite the fact that strangers rarely made the connection that the two were related.
Sofia got along wonderfully with Jessica, though, and put up no argument when Chuck asked if Jess might stay with them until she could establish some order in her life. Sofia was thrilled to have Jessica around, most of the time. Besides being a doctor, Jessica was a mother of twins herself, and was always happy to help Sofia deal with the joys and pains of pregnancy; support that Chuck learned very quickly that he was completely useless for. Besides that, Sofia loved having Jessica's kids around. It allowed her time not only to bond with the extended members of the Matthews family, but she saw it as an opportunity to learn the sorts of things she would need to know when their own child was born.
Sofia Sinclair: "No?"
Jessica frowns.
Jessica Casey: "I guess it's just me."
Chuck smirks. Jess had always been very vocal about her dislike of the wrestling business. No matter how hard she tried to escape it, it seemed to follow her wherever she went. Her brother was an icon in the world, as was her husband. Chris, for the short time he had been home, had delved into the business for a short while, gaining some respect as a solid fighter, albeit a terrible wrestler with little personality or ability to connect with fans. Jessica herself had been hired on as an authority figure in IWF, though her run was seen almost unanimously as a failure, and she had relied more on Chuck's consulting more than actually making any decisions of her own.
Jessica Casey: "It's just not my thing. Forget I said anything."
Sofia looks from Jessica to Chuck.
Sofia Sinclair: "I feel like I'm missing something."
Chuck Matthews: "Jess isn't a fan of my work."
Jessica Casey: "I didn't say that."
Chuck Matthews: "It's hardly a secret, though."
Jessica Casey: "Charlie."
Jessica stares sternly at Chuck, her right eyebrow twitching slightly. Chuck, who had opened his mouth to respond, closes it, taking a step back. Sofia leans towards Jessica.
Sofia Sinclair: "You'll have to teach me to do that. I've been trying to think of how to shut him up forever."
Chuck playfully pushes her shoulder. Sofia rocks slightly.
Sofia Sinclair: "Hey! Pregnant woman, no pushing!"
Chuck Matthews: "No pushing YET."
Jessica lets out a snort of laughter. There's a moment of silence.
Sofia Sinclair: "So what happens now?"
Chuck Matthews: "EXODUS has a nice schedule. In a couple weeks, I fly back out to California and do another show. Wrestle my match. Do what I need to do. Then I'll be right back out here to see you guys."
Sofia smiles.
Sofia Sinclair: "How is it over there?"
Chuck Matthews: "Warmer than here."
Jessica Casey: "I don't understand how you could live here."
The Matthews clan was raised in a small town outside Nashville, Tennessee, but they had all gone their separate ways since then. Chuck moved north, living nomadically for a couple of years before he made it into the national spotlight, at which time he decided to settle in Chicago, a city he fell in love with and, in a bizarre twist, was originally born in. Chris was technically the owner of their childhood home in Tennessee, and was in fact the only Matthews to remain in the area. But his job required him to travel for long periods of time, and so the house was rarely inhabited. Jessica had moved out to Los Angeles for school, getting her degree from UCLA before she got married. She had since moved out of her apartment in California and moved in with her husband in Boston. Even their mother had left the hills of Tennessee and moved back to her own hometown in Decatur, Alabama. Jessica's heart was still in California, it seemed.
Chuck Matthews: "It's Chicago. What's not to love?"
Sofia Sinclair: "Six feet of snow."
Jessica laughs again. On the sofa, Raylyn stirs, reaching up and grabbing Chuck's pant leg. Chuck looks down at her. Raylyn rubs her eyes with her other hand.
Raylyn Casey: "Uncle Chuck."
Chuck lifts Raylyn, and she clings to his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.
Chuck Matthews: "Heya Ray."
Raylyn Casey: "Where's my juice?"
Jessica picks up the small pink child cup from the floor next to the sofa and tosses it to Chuck, who catches it in his free hand.
Chuck Matthews: "Gotcha covered."
He twirls the handle around his finger. Raylyn smiles, entertained by his trick. Chuck flips it off his finger before catching it on the back of his hand, balancing it there for just a moment before launching it back in the air, catching it by the handle, and presenting it to his niece. Raylyn bursts into gleeful laughter at the display. Chuck smiles at her face, red with excitement and joy. He'd never seen her laugh like that.
Raylyn Casey: "Do it again!"
Chuck laughs, and shakes his head.
Chuck Matthews: "If I do it again, you'll never get your juice!"
Raylyn snatches the cup out of Chuck's hands and drinks, before letting the cup fall to the floor. She nuzzles her face into Chuck's chest, closing her eyes again. Chuck hesitates, but gently pats her on the back. Jessica smiles warmly at her daughter. Chuck eyes Sofia, who looks at Raylyn with a longing gaze.
Sofia Sinclair: "She's so cute..."
Sofia looks away from Raylyn, to her own bulging belly. Chuck takes a deep breath. In an instant, the warm feeling he had while interacting with Raylyn vanishes. The realization would hit him every time he saw his wife. She was carrying his child. That...thing...in there. That was Chuck's doing. That was a human being, and in a few short months, Chuck would be responsible for it, expected to raise it to be a healthy, productive, and kind-hearted person. Chuck was going to be a father. On the one hand, he felt prepared for it. He knew the time was coming, and he felt prepared for whatever life threw at him next...but there was always that nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him, warning him, that he was going to fuck it up. And few things scared him more.
Chuck looks at Sofia. Sofia Sinclair...she was something else. There was no fear in the woman's eyes. She knew the baby was coming, and she was ready for it. She was prepared to tackle motherhood head-on, and nothing was going to stop her. She was a braver soul than Chuck in that regard...perhaps that's why he married her. He adored it about her. She was driven. She was smart, a quality Chuck admired in anyone, especially women. More importantly, though, she knew what to do with the knowledge, and that was a far more valuable skill to have. But what Chuck loved most about her was her undying courage...her uncanny ability to hide her fears, her insecurities, her qualms about whatever lie ahead. Chuck was a brave soul, but his came in a different form. Fear wasn't a commonality in Chuck's world. He simply wasn't an easily-frightened individual. He wasn't worried for the future. He had no anxieties when speaking in front of a crowd. Even death had lost its frightening visage to him. But on those rare occasions...fatherhood. Marriage....Chuck was terrified. And it wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. Sofia was different. Chuck knew she was afraid, maybe even more than he was. But she could hide it. She could bury her anxieties behind a warm smile and a collected demeanor. She was tough. She could weather the storm.
But perhaps that shouldn't have come as a surprise to Chuck. It was who she was. It was what she did. It was a long road to get to where Chuck was now. Two years, retired from wrestling. Two years, under federal protection. Now, for the first time in a long time, Chuck felt safe. Everything was at ease...
An Office
Washington, DC
Two Years Ago
Chuck sits behind a wooden table, his feet propped up in front of him. His suit is wrinkled, shabby-looking. It was an expensive suit, that much wasn't in question. But it was clear that Chuck rarely wore it, and made no effort to keep it maintained, even when he did. Next to him sits James Larson, Chuck's lawyer. Pacing before Chuck is Eliot Quinn, the Attorney General, who has been interrogating Chuck for several minutes now.
Eliot Quinn: "No criminal background?"
Chuck Matthews: "Not that I'm aware of."
Quinn pauses, looking at Chuck.
Eliot Quinn: "You pay your taxes?"
Chuck Matthews: "When I remember."
Eliot looks at him sternly. Chuck raises his hands in surrender.
Chuck Matthews: "Okay, no more jokes! Yes, I pay my taxes."
Eliot Quinn: "Need I remind you, Mr. Matthews, that this interview will determine your eligibility into this protection program. Do you understand that?"
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah. Gotcha."
Eliot Quinn: "Then I advise you take this a little more seriously. And take your feet off the table."
Chuck moves his feet to the floor and sits up straight.
Eliot Quinn: "Now then. Your family. It says here you have four siblings?"
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah."
Eliot Quinn: "And you're the youngest."
Chuck Matthews: "Correctomundo."
There's that stern look again.
Chuck Matthews: "Yes, that is correct."
Eliot Quinn: "What about your parents. Still alive?"
Chuck Matthews: "I believe so."
Eliot Quinn: "What do you mean?"
James Larson: "Where is this going?"
Eliot Quinn: "If we are to investigate Mr. Matthews' character, it is essential that we understand the world he comes from."
James Larson: "Mr. Matthews' family is not on trial here. Mr. Matthews himself is not on trial here. This hearing is to determine whether he is a fit candidate for this program!"
Eliot stares at Larson. He frowns.
Eliot Quinn: "Fine."
He removes a file from his briefcase.
Eliot Quinn: "I have here your psychological profile."
Chuck Matthews: "Ooh, this is my favorite part."
Larson buries his face in his hands. Quinn smiles.
Eliot Quinn: "I'm sure it won't fail to entertain."
He flips open the file, reading a few of the pages.
Eliot Quinn: "'Highly intelligent-'"
Chuck smiles, leaning back in his chair.
Eliot Quinn: "'Demonstrates high cognitive ability and above-average spatial and logical reasoning skills.'"
Chuck Matthews: "Sweet."
Eliot Quinn: "'Exhibits extensive knowledge spanning a vast array of subjects.' A goldmine of useless information, Mr. Matthews?"
Chuck Matthews: "No information is useless."
Eliot Quinn: "'Masterful understanding of psychology and sociology.' Any comments on that one, Matthews?"
Chuck Matthews: "Nothing I didn't already know."
Eliot looks at the paper, then to Chuck, a smile forming on his face.
Eliot Quinn: "'Extreme narcissism.'"
Chuck pauses for a moment, sitting up straight. Finally, he shrugs.
Chuck Matthews: "....yeah, I can't argue with that."
Eliot frowns.
Eliot Quinn: "And you don't find this a problem?"
Chuck Matthews: "We all have our problems, Quinn."
Larson stands.
James Larson: "I would like to point out that Mr. Matthews has already allocated numerous assets to government agencies, at great risk to himself and his company, simply because the government requested it. He is under no legal or moral obligations to hand ANY of his company resources to you, and yet he has cooperated, under the pretense that should any trouble come his way, he wouldn't be left pissing in the wind!"
Eliot Quinn: "Funny, there was no fine print on those agreements."
James Larson: "Regardless, if Mr. Matthews seeks protection from enemies made as a result of his voluntary actions to the United States, it is the duty of the US to protect him as best they can, especially if they seek to continue to use the information Mr. Matthews provides. If not, then I believe that he reserves the right to pull these resources from the hands of these agencies."
Eliot Quinn: "It would take us months to resituate and move our operations."
James Larson: "Then I suggest you get packing. There is no legal documentation requiring Mr. Matthews to hand over any of the information he's provided."
Eliot scratches his chin.
Eliot Quinn: "Look...I'm not saying Mr. Matthews hasn't been a valuable asset to our investigations. He has. I'm saying there are alternative routes he can take that are hardly this drastic. He doesn't need this program."
Chuck frowns. He nods, slowly at first.
Eliot Quinn: "However...I've come up with an alternative that I think you might find to your liking."
Chuck looks at Quinn.
Chuck Matthews: "Go on..."
Eliot Quinn: "We obviously want your continued consultation and insight into the Insurgency investigation. And yes, we do understand that the knowledge of this cooperation puts you at great risk."
Eliot Quinn opens the door behind him, poking his head out into the hallway.
Eliot Quinn: "We're ready for you."
He holds the door open, and a blond woman walks in. She wears a business suit, but Chuck sees the barrel of a gun dangling at her side. She folds her hands behind her back, staring down her nose at Chuck. She has a tiny sneer on her face, as though this entire situation is a burden to her.
Eliot Quinn: "Mr. Matthews, this is Agent Sofia Evans, FBI. She's going to be your handler through this operation."
Chuck Matthews: "My handler?"
Eliot Quinn: "She will be ensuring your safety until this ordeal is over. What she says goes. We have given her full power over this situation. I trust her judgment, and if you wish to stay safe, I recommend that you do the same."
Chuck stares at Sofia. She makes no attempt to greet him, or even to make eye contact. Chuck smiles.
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah. Sure, great, works for me. A pleasure, Mrs. Evans."
He extends his hand. Sofia looks at it, but doesn't move. Chuck pulls his hand away.
Chuck Matthews: "She's a charmer, isn't she?"
Eliot smirks.
Eliot Quinn: "I'm sure you two will get along just fine."
He turns to Larson.
Eliot Quinn: "Is that satisfactory?"
Larson nods towards Chuck.
James Larson: "That's for him to decide."
Chuck frowns. The whole thing was a big mess. The government was investigating The Insurgency, a home-grown terrorist group that had quickly become a bigger and more dangerous threat in recent years. Ordinarily, Chuck would have stayed as far as he could away from something like that. But they suspected that Corey Casey was somehow involved, and when Chuck let slip that he might have known something about it, he was hounded for information. Chuck and Corey had worked together for years, as competitors in NLWF, and then as business associates in IWF. Corey was an IWF star, and was often credited as one of the co-founders. He was their first world champion, a main event player for much of IWF's existence, and, shortly after his retirement in 2012, Corey was the third inductee into IWF's Hall of Fame.
Chuck was never an active member of the IWF roster. In reality, Chuck's "retirement" from the sport came in 2011, shortly after he took control of NLWF, dismantling it so that IWF could get off the ground. Chuck had competed a few times in the IWF ring - Nine matches over the span of three years - but had never been a contracted member of their roster. His services tended to be more on the business side of things. He had acted as a consultant during Jessica Casey's short run as IWF's general manager. Chuck served as a color commentator for most of IWF's first year of operation. Most importantly, Chuck was the man responsible for putting IWF on TV. MEN TV and Matthews Enterprises' pay-per-view provider broadcast all things IWF, from shows to big events to Hall of Fame ceremonies to the occasional promotional work done by one of their stars. In addition, Chuck, as a personal favor to Corey Casey and Brandon Macdonald, paid most of IWF's bills, including purchase and maintenance of the IWF ring.
Chuck had made a deal with Corey, back when IWF was still a vision in Casey's mind. He demanded that Corey find money for himself. Any money Corey could get, be it from his own pocket, from an investor, from a company bake sale for all Chuck cared, and Chuck himself would match it. Of course, at the time, Chuck hadn't expected Corey to come up with much. Ever since NLWF had closed down, Corey was unemployed. Chuck was virtually unaffected by the wrestling company's demise...hell, he was responsible for most of it himself. But when NLWF tanked, Chuck simply moved over to business, focusing on ME and making money that way. Wrestling was all Corey had. With no company prepared to hire him, Casey was broke, unemployed, and had no real way to raise the money to kick off a new promotion.
Somehow, Corey came back, and with plenty enough money to kick off a small independent promotion on his own. True to his word, Chuck doubled the money...and IWF was born. He had never really questioned where Corey had inexplicably procured these funds, though he knew he had to have borrowed it. Jessica herself had no logical explanation for it, and was as surprised as Chuck when Corey showed up out of the blue with five million dollars to blow. Now, the feds were investigating the source of this money, and had good reason to believe that Corey had gotten tangled up in this group. Why? How? Chuck had no idea. But his storied history with Corey had made him a key figure in their investigation. Shortly after his first visit, Chuck began receiving mysterious threats, and a week after meeting with the FBI, a bombing was foiled just outside ME's corporate headquarters. Now, Chuck sought refuge from these threats before they got out of hand. His lawyer had pushed to get Chuck relocated, at least until the mess blew over.
Chuck Matthews: "So long as it keep me off the radar of these guys, I'll do whatever."
Quinn smiles.
Eliot Quinn: "Well then, Mr. Matthews. Make yourself friendly with Agent Evans here. You two are going to be spending a lot of time together from now on."
Matthews Residence
Chicago, Illinois
Two Years Ago
Chuck Matthews: "Oh, fuck you."
Sofia Evans: "You wanted protection."
Chuck Matthews: "This isn't exactly what I had in mind."
Sofia frowns. Chuck looks down at the papers.
Chuck Matthews: "Nobody's going to believe this."
Sofia Evans: "They will. You just need to give it a bit of time. Don't rush it. Slowly move it, in pieces. The idea is to take eyes off of you and direct them to a new target."
Chuck Matthews: "There are two thousand people in that building at any given time. I can't help them. And it's clear to me that you have little interest in doing it either."
Sofia Evans: "You're missing the point."
Chuck Matthews: "Enlighten me."
Sofia Evans: "Jesus, Matthews. Your company is not the focus of their attacks. You are. Your company is only feeding us information on your go-ahead. If we remove you from the picture, their threats stop. That's what we're trying to do here. We need to keep them focused on you, and we need to remove everything tied to you so that the only thing that can attack is you personally. Understand?"
Chuck Matthews: "That doesn't give me any relief."
Sofia Evans: "It shouldn't. But that's why we're relocating you. Giving you a new identity. You'll be going off the grid. Now, granted, we can't just remove you entirely from existence. Chuck Matthews needs to exist. We just...can't let you be found."
Chuck Matthews: "I don't like it."
Sofia Evans: "Would you rather do this on your own?"
Chuck looks at her. She was getting frustrated. Sofia was hard-headed. Chuck was learning that very quickly. Or maybe Chuck was just pushing the right buttons.
Chuck Matthews: "You know, you're cute when you're upset."
Sofia Evans: "Shut the fuck up."
Chuck smiles. Sofia looks at him and rolls her eyes, groaning.
Sofia Evans: "That's so pathetic."
Chuck Matthews: "But adorable, right? Come on, be honest. It's totally working."
Sofia slams her hands on the table, and gets to her feet, but not before leaning in close to Chuck and hissing at him.
Sofia Evans: "You're fucking hopeless, you know that?"
She storms out of the room, slamming the door to Chuck's garage. Chuck looks at the files. He had to admit...it WAS a solid plan. Maybe a little unorthodox...but it worked, somehow. Chuck groans.
'I need to apologize, don't I...'
Chuck Matthews: "Fuck."
He slowly stands, heading to the garage. The door is open slightly. Chuck reaches to open it, but hears Sofia's voice on the other side of the door, talking on the phone.
Sofia Evans: "Pull me out."
There's a pause.
Sofia Evans: "I understand that, but I'm at the end of my rope. The man doesn't care about being helped. It's his way or the highway, and he's shot down every one of my conventional methods."
Another pause.
Sofia Evans: "I did. I came up with the most bizarre, convoluted scheme I've ever thought up. I figured maybe that would get him. Nothing. The man simply will not let me help. He sits there and makes snide sexual comments and...he..."
Sofia groans in exasperation. Chuck shakes his head.
Sofia Evans: "....then assign another agent to his case. I'm giving up. Let Macdonald get him, I don't give a shit."
Sofia pauses again.
Sofia Evans: "....yes. Yes, I understand.......I'll do what I can."
She takes a deep breath.
Sofia Evans: "I'll give you an update as soon as I can."
She hangs up. Chuck races back to the coffee table, and reads through the files. Sofia re-enters the room. Her eyes are red, and her face is a little puffy...she's been crying. Chuck feels his stomach drop. He quickly averts his eyes, pretending he doesn't notice.
Sofia Evans: "I called my supervisor. He's got another assignment for me in Nevada. He'll be sending round the clock surveillance until he can find another agent to take over your case."
She's lying. Chuck knows it. He looks at the files in front of him.
Chuck Matthews: "You don't want to be here."
Sofia opens her mouth, but no words come out.
Sofia Evans: "I...I have a job to do, Mr. Matthews. It's not a matter of what I want or don't want. This is what I get paid to do."
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah....no, you're right. I get it."
Sofia looks at Chuck, a quizzical expression on her face.
Chuck Matthews: "Hey, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm a, uh...I'm an idiot."
Sofia Evans: "I find it hard to believe that a man that the FBI thinks has an IQ fifty points north of 'Genius' is an idiot."
Chuck Matthews: "I'm trying to apologize, can you cut me a break?"
Sofia smiles. Chuck had never seen her smile.
Sofia Evans: "You're new at it, aren't you."
Chuck Matthews: "I guess it wouldn't surprise you if I said yes."
Sofia Evans: "It's obvious."
Chuck snorts. He's silent.
Chuck Matthews: "Look...let's give this a shot. This plan, I mean. I don't really like it...but I guess you're the expert, right? Walk me through it."
Sofia eyes Chuck suspiciously.
Sofia Evans: "You're serious?"
Chuck stretches his arms out.
Chuck Matthews: "I am yours to mold and transform as you wish."
He looks at the paper in front of him.
Chuck Matthews: "So...Jackson Sinclair. Seriously?"
Sofia Evans: "I worked hard on that name!"
Chuck Matthews: "It sounds like a fucking plantation owner of something from the 1800's."
Chuck raises his brow and puts on an airy expression. When he speaks, he does so with a high-class southern accent, slowly and annunciating every word.
Chuck Matthews: "Why, did you hear what ol' Lady Dithers is up to down the lane? I hear that woman has been hitchin' her privies up for Mr. Robinson up the way. The harlot!"
Sofia tries to stifle her giggle, but fails, and lets out a squeak.
Sofia Evans: "Somehow I don't think that's how they talk...but actually, I like that. Can you talk like that regularly?"
Chuck Matthews: "You serious?"
Sofia Evans: "Well, I mean...if someone walks up to you on the street, could you speak like that? Nobody would ever connect that voice to you."
Chuck Matthews: "I mean, I could probably- what are you doing?"
Sofia has taken a lock of Chucks hair into her hands. She gently runs her fingers through the long blonde strands before letting it fall lightly to Chuck's shoulders. She looks at Chuck, tapping her finger against her lips, deep in thought.
Chuck Matthews: "What are you going to do?"
Sofia Evans: "How partial are you to your hair?"
Chuck Matthews: "Oh no. No, no, no. Don't touch my-"
He looks at the document, and at Sofia's face. He remembers his apology to her. He said he would try and make it work...and if that meant sacrifices needed to be made, then that's what he would have to do. Chuck sighs.
Chuck Matthews: "What are you going to do?"
Sofia Evans: "I think you'd look good as a brunette."
Chuck buries his face in his hands.
Chuck Matthews: "This is going to be painful, isn't it..."
Sinclair Residence
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
Three Months Ago
Chuck lies on the sofa, his arm across his forehead, his eyes closed. The TV is on in the background. Sofia walks in, a bowl of cereal in her hand. She stops, looking at her husband. Chuck slowly opens his eyes.
Chuck Matthews: "Can I help you?"
Sofia Sinclair: "Just wondering where you were."
She bends down, kissing his forehead before taking a seat on the arm of the sofa. Chuck lifts his head , resting it on her leg.
Sofia Sinclair: "You okay?"
Chuck Matthews: "Just thinking."
Sofia Sinclair: "Surprise, surprise."
She runs her hand through his hair.
Sofia Sinclair: "You should recolor it."
Chuck shrugs.
Chuck Matthews: "It's on my to-do list."
Sofia frowns.
Sofia Sinclair: "Alright. What's wrong?"
Chuck Matthews: "Nothing."
Sofia Sinclair: "Bullshit. Come on, talk to me."
Chuck Matthews: "Don't worry about it."
Sofia Sinclair: "Hey, what time is it? Where's the remote?"
Chuck glances at his watch.
Chuck Matthews: "Seven."
Sofia snatches the TV remote from Chuck, flipping the channels.
Chuck Matthews: "I was watching that."
Sofia Sinclair: "You're going to want to see this."
She stops at a news station, and points to the TV. Chuck sits up, suddenly interested. A face is shown on the screen. A middle-aged man, with a thick jaw and neatly combed blond hair is shown in a small box in the corner of the screen.
Reporter: "Tonight's Top Story: Insurgency leader Vance Ludo has been captured. The nation sleeps a little easier with one of America's most wanted criminals taken into custody. Ludo is believed to be responsible for several high-profile robberies, shootings, and bombings over the last ten years-"
Sofia looks at Chuck, smiling.
Sofia Sinclair: "We got him."
Chuck Matthews: "You're kidding."
Sofia Sinclair: "Got the call from Quinn myself this morning."
Chuck Matthews: "He's done?"
Sofia Sinclair: "We have enough on this guy that we could put him away for a thousand lifetimes. Chuck, it's over."
Chuck nods. Two years, he'd been in hiding from that man on the screen right there...and now it was over. He didn't have to hide. He could go back to his regular life. Be a regular person again.
Chuck Matthews: "So...I mean...it's finished then, right? I mean-"
Sofia Sinclair: "Tired of living in Oklahoma?"
Chuck Matthews: "....will you be upset if I said yes?"
Sofia laughs, and kisses him.
Sofia Sinclair: "I'll put in the request to withdraw you from the program. You did good, Chucky."
Chuck cringes at the name. Sofia clearly notices, because she smirks.
Sofia Sinclair: "Would you rather I just call you Jack forever?"
Chuck laughs.
Chuck Matthews: "On second thought...Chucky sounds pretty good."
Matthews Residence
Chicago, Illinois
Present Day
Two years, hiding in plain sight, testifying against various criminals that he only knew because he had accidentally stumbled upon their operations. Two years away from what he loved most. He couldn't run his business. He couldn't wrestle. Most of the time, he spent his hours rotting away in his apartment in Oklahoma. It was nice to know that it was all over.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. As much as Chuck disliked leaving his beloved hometown, his friends and family, his business and hobbies, he had gained something far more valuable in return. Sofia and Chuck grew close during their time working together. A year into it, Chuck asked her to marry him...and she did. It was a long and tedious story, explaining to people why Sofia and Chuck had different last names. Most of them assumed that Sinclair was her maiden name, and she had simply never changed it. The truth was that when they married, Chuck was operating under the Jackson Sinclair name...and so that was the one that Sofia adopted, in order to keep Chuck's true identity safe. Now that it was over, they often talked about getting it changed to Matthews. But it wasn't terribly important to either of them. They knew who she was, and so did their friends. Maybe someday, she would do it. Until then, Chuck actually sort of liked her Sinclair name. It served as a reminder of what they had done. How they had met. What they had been through together. Such things had a value of their own.
Chuck blinks. He's awake, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It's been several hours since the discussion in the living room earlier today. Though unremarkable, the scene replays again and again in Chuck's head. Raylyn had never laughed like that. Not at Chuck, anyway. Those were the moments that Sofia loved to point out to Chuck. She knew his anxiety. She knew he worried. He was convinced of it: He was going to be a terrible father. Sofia, then, was always happy to point to instances like that. Times when Chuck could interact with Jessica's kids, get them to smile, make them happy...be a father figure to them while their own father was away on the road. If anything, though, those fleeting moments scared Chuck the most. And it was because they were fleeting. True, there were times when Chuck could do right by the kids. He could prove himself a positive role model. But fathers couldn't be fathers every now and then. They were fathers always. Around the clock. Seven days a week. Those fleeting moments weren't good enough. Chuck wasn't good enough.
Chuck looks over at the clock. The red light of the alarm clock glares at him.
3:00 AM
Chuck rolls onto his back. He steals a glance to his other side, where Sofia lays. Through the darkness, he makes out the large lump of her belly...the omen of things to come. Chuck sits up, letting his feet dangle off the bed. He scratches the back of his head before standing, heading down to the kitchen.
As he fills a glass with water, he stares out the kitchen window, to the backyard. He couldn't see much outside, really. The light of the kitchen reflected back off the glass, and Chuck could only see his own face, staring back at him. He takes a drink. A father...
Chuck swishes the water around in his mouth a bit before leaning over the sink and spitting it out. He stands up, looking out the window again...into the gaunt face of the man suddenly standing on the other side.
Chuck Matthews: "Motherfucker!"
Chuck jumps back, dropping the glass, which clatters in the sink. Chuck rubs his eyes and looks out the window again. Nothing. Nobody there. Chuck puts his hand over his heart, which races at lightning speeds. He turns around...and finds himself face-to-face with the same strange man.
??: "Hello, Charlie."
Chuck Matthews: "How do you kill Superman?
You know, it's been a long time since I stood in front of a camera and had one of these lovely little fireside chats with the wrestling world. Truth be told, I wasn't sure if we'd ever see another one. But life's got a funny way of fucking with your head, doesn't it? One second, you're on top of the world, with gold around your waist, thousands of fans screaming your name, people across the world knowing who you are...and then Life throws you a curveball. Suddenly that business you opened for some extra revenue takes off, demands all of your attention, and you're forced to retire from active competition. You focus on your company. Some things happen. You cruise along for a couple years, running a business that's expanding faster than you can keep it under control. Finally, you level it off, pull in the reins, and for a while, it seems like everything is smooth sailing once again. And then, when you least expect it, Life throws you a curveball yet again. A wife. A baby on the way. An offer from an old associate. And suddenly, you're pitched headfirst, right back where you started: Back in the ring. And it all...comes...full...circle. Ain't that crazy? But, you see...I've learned a thing or two in my life, and one of those is that when Life constantly throws you curveballs, you better learn to hit 'em, or you're going to strike out.
I don't strike out.
No. When Life throws me a curveball, I hit that son of a bitch right out of the park. When Life hands me lemons, I make lemonade and sell that shit at two hundred percent markup. When Life knocks me down, I get right back up, brush myself off, and tell Life that if it wants me to stay down, it should really aim for the solar plexus, because those straight-stomach shots are for pussies. Did I miss any other five-dollar phrases to butcher? Lovely. Let's move on.
Ladies, gentlemen...I am a man who needs no introduction. But I'll give it anyway for sake of tradition.
My name is Chuck Matthews. I am the Smartest Man in Professional Wrestling. Learn that now, and the rest of our happy tenures here will be a whole lot easier.
So...there's a lot I could talk about. I've been out of the ring for a while. The last time anyone saw me, I was headlining some event or something in another company, in another city, honestly the details are a little fuzzy, but it's not important. What's important is that it's been a while since the wrestling world has seen my face. It's been a while since I put on the ol' Chuck Matthews boots and stepped between the ropes. And believe me, it's been a couple days, but I've already started to hear the critics in an uproar. Ring rust. Too old. Too beat up. Doesn't have it anymore. In fact, there seems to be a popular consensus that if Chuck Matthews should enter the ring again, it should prove to be disastrous! He might break a bone! He might pull a muscle! He might get seriously hurt! Did you people forget that I did this for seven years before I took my leave from this business? Did you forget that I was once one of this industry's premier players? That I was an icon? That I had a name that commanded respect? I was a king.
I know where this is going to go. 'Was.' As in, 'not anymore,' right? As in, 'Washed-Up.' As in, 'Has-been.' As in, 'We just watched your beloved protégé fail magnificently in EXODUS, and now you think you'll do better?'
That's what you were thinking, wasn't it? Come on, you've gotta give me a little more credit than that. I mean, I know I don't look as young and pretty as I used to, but that doesn't mean I'm not as dangerous as I ever was. I'm not like the other guys that leave this business, only to come back years later. I don't have that crippling injury that put me on the shelf. I'm not that beat up old piece of meat who took a few years to recuperate. I'm twenty-six years old and I'm still in the best shape of my life. And so, I suppose that begs the question: Why return at all?
That makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, if there was nothing that really forced me OUT of the business, then what could it possibly be that compelled me to come back IN? And that, oh lovely viewers, is what you're tasked to figure out. What is it that Chuck Matthews is after this time? What's his end game? What was it that EXODUS had that could entice the man who's already done everything there is to do in the business? That, my dear friends, is the unsolved riddle, and what I leave to you.
Ahh, I just saw a glint in your eyes. There's a good number of you that know my work, yeah? You know my M.O. You know what game I'm playing, and you know where this is going next. Well, for those of you who don't, now would be the time to listen up. Is everybody paying attention? Steverino, that means you.
Now...I won't get angry that the EXODUS world doesn't know that much about me. To be fair, I've tried my best over the last couple of years to make myself mostly unknown. But they've picked up on a couple of key points:
One: I am Chuck Matthews.
Two: I am the Smartest Man in Professional Wrestling.
So then, Mr. Lenton. I'd like you to- Oh no, don't you start yelling and flailing your arms just yet. There will be plenty of time for that later. What I would like you to do first is to reflect on what this actually means: You are fighting the single most intelligent human being in this business. You understand that, don't you? How does one prepare, knowing that little tidbit of information? Do you train any differently? Do you do your research? Do you get in the ring every day, making sure each move is executed to perfection, knowing full well that you can't afford to make any mistakes against a man like me? We know what my advantage is here, Steve. I've got the brains. I'm a thinker. I'm a schemer. What are you? What is the distinct advantage that you hold over me?"
Chuck clears his throat and looks dramatically into the camera, putting on his best Steve Lenton impersonation.
Chuck Matthews: "WAIT!! Is it the DRIVE of the Big L? It's that HEART and DETERMINATION that's going to go up against the smartest man in wrestling and give him the TOUGHEST EXODUS welcome of his LIFE??!!?!?!"
Chuck takes a small bow, and winks at the camera.
Chuck Matthews: "I'll tell you what, Stevie Blunder. Why don't you give that a shot, and let me know how well that works out for you.
Here's the bottom line, man. Hard work is nice. Drive is good. Determination? Lovely. But tell me, how does that make you any different from...you know, half the other wrestlers in this business? You're bigger than me? You're stronger than me? Congratu-fucking-lations, I'm 225 pounds, I've never been the biggest guy on the roster. Think that's gonna stop me? You think that's ever stopped me? What, you're more determined than I am? Are you? Are you really?
Determination is a funny thing, Steve. You need motive. You need a goal. What is drive if there's no destination? What's at the end of your road, Steve? What does this match mean for you?
Now, I won't pretend that this is going to be some walk in the park for me. Believe it or not, I know a little bit of your work. I know what you're capable of doing. I know your successes...but most importantly, I know your failures. You're wondering what it is that I do? What makes me so special?
THIS is what I do. I observe. I study. I learn. I plan. And I win.
The plan. I hope that clicked in your head. There is ALWAYS a plan. You know I'm here in EXODUS for a reason. You know there's a goal in my mind. You know there's an end game. And, of course, you know I won't tell you what that is.
Hey. I'll give you a hint. It's not a world championship.
But that's not your job, is it, Steve? That's a little bit above your paygrade. You're not paid to plan. You're not paid to think. You're paid to fight. This really fucks with your system, doesn't it? You live in this happy little world where people come in, they fight, they win or lose, and they move on with their lives. And it's on to the next week. The next match. The next paycheck. But me? I see things minutes, days, weeks before they even happen. I think five moves ahead, three games from now. Simply put? I'm on a whole other level. I'm operating on a completely different frequency. I see things for what they are. For what the could be. That's what makes me unique, Steven. That's what gives me power.
You'll sit there and tell the world that I've got a hell of a mountain to climb fighting you. And hey, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm in over my head. But I'm standing here, and it seems to me like all the pressure is on you, big guy. I mean, I don't pretend my name deserves respect around here. I can't brag about everything I've done, because everything I've done has happened in another world. Another lifetime. You, though? You're familiar. You're THE BIG L, for fuck's sake. You've held titles. You've won big matches. You're up against the new guy here, and all eyes are on you. If you win? Awesome. You beat the new guy. That's exactly what they're expecting of you. If you lose, though...what then? Some guy sauntered into EXODUS, looking to break shit, cause some trouble. And you let me right in. You opened that door.
There is a problem here, Steve, and that problem is Chuck Matthews. I am telling you, here and now, that you have a golden opportunity, and one that so few people have: You can stop Chuck Matthews before he ever gets off the ground. You can tear up his blueprints before he can lay down the foundation. You can destroy the weed before it takes root.
But no. As much as I might talk, ramble on, tell the world my plans, tell the world how great I am...I'm afraid it's not going to work. I don't think I've ignited you quite enough, Steve. You've got fire, Steve. You've got drive. But I don't think you have enough. I don't think you've got what it takes. Quite frankly, I don't think you have a chance in hell.
And thinking, Mr. Lenton, is the sort of thing that I do best.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because I need you to care, Steve. I need you at your best. I need the Big L that will march to that ring Monday night, look me right in the eye, show me that fire I've heard so much about. Make me take a step back. Make me rethink my strategy. Make me worry that maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew. Why? Because I am not interested in 'second-best.' I don't want second-best. I want the biggest and baddest Steve Lenton that you can muster. Because when that final bell rings, and I leave that ring, I want to walk to the back with a smile on my face, and the knowledge that I have done something truly spectacular. I beat Steve Lenton. I met the Big L head-on, and I cut him down to size. I took the best that he had to offer, and I came out on top.
I...killed...Superman."
Chicago, Illinois
Present Day
Sofia Sinclair: "So...this is really you."
Chuck smiles.
Chuck Matthews: "In all my brutal and bloody glory."
Sofia nods slowly.
Sofia Sinclair: "How in the world a professional wrestler gets tangled up in all these sorts of things is beyond me...but I guess stranger things have happened."
Chuck Matthews: "We have a knack for finding trouble. It comes with the job."
Sofia rolls her eyes.
Chuck Matthews: "So...what? You're okay with this?"
Sofia nods, slowly.
Sofia Sinclair: "I mean...It's new. I guess it'll take some getting used to...but it looks like you fit right in. And you seem happy."
Jessica Casey: "I don't like it."
The three of them sit in the living room, where Chuck has a recording of the EXODUS show playing on the TV. Chuck and Sofia sit together on the sofa, with Raylyn and Gavin, Jessica's children, laying between them. Gavin is sprawled across the middle cushion, his tiny hand dangling off the side of the couch. Raylyn is curled in a little ball, her head next to Chuck's leg. Jessica herself sits in an armchair nearest the TV, relaxing with her legs thrown over one arm, and her head resting against the other like a teenager. Chuck frowns at her. Jessica had temporarily moved back in with Chuck in Chicago, and had been staying with them for the last few weeks. With her husband on the road with PDW, training Danny Kane, Jessica was struggling to raise her kids while simultaneously working as a doctor with sometimes unpredictable hours. It was Chuck that had presented the idea. He tried to pass it off as though he was doing Jess a favor, but he had a nasty feeling Jessica knew his true motives. The two had always been close, even closer than Chuck had been with his oldest brother, Paul. Perhaps it was their close proximity in age: Jessica was only a year older than Chuck, which besides Paul and Chris, was the smallest gap between any two of the Matthews siblings. But even then, Jessica and Chuck connected, somehow, despite the fact that strangers rarely made the connection that the two were related.
Sofia got along wonderfully with Jessica, though, and put up no argument when Chuck asked if Jess might stay with them until she could establish some order in her life. Sofia was thrilled to have Jessica around, most of the time. Besides being a doctor, Jessica was a mother of twins herself, and was always happy to help Sofia deal with the joys and pains of pregnancy; support that Chuck learned very quickly that he was completely useless for. Besides that, Sofia loved having Jessica's kids around. It allowed her time not only to bond with the extended members of the Matthews family, but she saw it as an opportunity to learn the sorts of things she would need to know when their own child was born.
Sofia Sinclair: "No?"
Jessica frowns.
Jessica Casey: "I guess it's just me."
Chuck smirks. Jess had always been very vocal about her dislike of the wrestling business. No matter how hard she tried to escape it, it seemed to follow her wherever she went. Her brother was an icon in the world, as was her husband. Chris, for the short time he had been home, had delved into the business for a short while, gaining some respect as a solid fighter, albeit a terrible wrestler with little personality or ability to connect with fans. Jessica herself had been hired on as an authority figure in IWF, though her run was seen almost unanimously as a failure, and she had relied more on Chuck's consulting more than actually making any decisions of her own.
Jessica Casey: "It's just not my thing. Forget I said anything."
Sofia looks from Jessica to Chuck.
Sofia Sinclair: "I feel like I'm missing something."
Chuck Matthews: "Jess isn't a fan of my work."
Jessica Casey: "I didn't say that."
Chuck Matthews: "It's hardly a secret, though."
Jessica Casey: "Charlie."
Jessica stares sternly at Chuck, her right eyebrow twitching slightly. Chuck, who had opened his mouth to respond, closes it, taking a step back. Sofia leans towards Jessica.
Sofia Sinclair: "You'll have to teach me to do that. I've been trying to think of how to shut him up forever."
Chuck playfully pushes her shoulder. Sofia rocks slightly.
Sofia Sinclair: "Hey! Pregnant woman, no pushing!"
Chuck Matthews: "No pushing YET."
Jessica lets out a snort of laughter. There's a moment of silence.
Sofia Sinclair: "So what happens now?"
Chuck Matthews: "EXODUS has a nice schedule. In a couple weeks, I fly back out to California and do another show. Wrestle my match. Do what I need to do. Then I'll be right back out here to see you guys."
Sofia smiles.
Sofia Sinclair: "How is it over there?"
Chuck Matthews: "Warmer than here."
Jessica Casey: "I don't understand how you could live here."
The Matthews clan was raised in a small town outside Nashville, Tennessee, but they had all gone their separate ways since then. Chuck moved north, living nomadically for a couple of years before he made it into the national spotlight, at which time he decided to settle in Chicago, a city he fell in love with and, in a bizarre twist, was originally born in. Chris was technically the owner of their childhood home in Tennessee, and was in fact the only Matthews to remain in the area. But his job required him to travel for long periods of time, and so the house was rarely inhabited. Jessica had moved out to Los Angeles for school, getting her degree from UCLA before she got married. She had since moved out of her apartment in California and moved in with her husband in Boston. Even their mother had left the hills of Tennessee and moved back to her own hometown in Decatur, Alabama. Jessica's heart was still in California, it seemed.
Chuck Matthews: "It's Chicago. What's not to love?"
Sofia Sinclair: "Six feet of snow."
Jessica laughs again. On the sofa, Raylyn stirs, reaching up and grabbing Chuck's pant leg. Chuck looks down at her. Raylyn rubs her eyes with her other hand.
Raylyn Casey: "Uncle Chuck."
Chuck lifts Raylyn, and she clings to his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.
Chuck Matthews: "Heya Ray."
Raylyn Casey: "Where's my juice?"
Jessica picks up the small pink child cup from the floor next to the sofa and tosses it to Chuck, who catches it in his free hand.
Chuck Matthews: "Gotcha covered."
He twirls the handle around his finger. Raylyn smiles, entertained by his trick. Chuck flips it off his finger before catching it on the back of his hand, balancing it there for just a moment before launching it back in the air, catching it by the handle, and presenting it to his niece. Raylyn bursts into gleeful laughter at the display. Chuck smiles at her face, red with excitement and joy. He'd never seen her laugh like that.
Raylyn Casey: "Do it again!"
Chuck laughs, and shakes his head.
Chuck Matthews: "If I do it again, you'll never get your juice!"
Raylyn snatches the cup out of Chuck's hands and drinks, before letting the cup fall to the floor. She nuzzles her face into Chuck's chest, closing her eyes again. Chuck hesitates, but gently pats her on the back. Jessica smiles warmly at her daughter. Chuck eyes Sofia, who looks at Raylyn with a longing gaze.
Sofia Sinclair: "She's so cute..."
Sofia looks away from Raylyn, to her own bulging belly. Chuck takes a deep breath. In an instant, the warm feeling he had while interacting with Raylyn vanishes. The realization would hit him every time he saw his wife. She was carrying his child. That...thing...in there. That was Chuck's doing. That was a human being, and in a few short months, Chuck would be responsible for it, expected to raise it to be a healthy, productive, and kind-hearted person. Chuck was going to be a father. On the one hand, he felt prepared for it. He knew the time was coming, and he felt prepared for whatever life threw at him next...but there was always that nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him, warning him, that he was going to fuck it up. And few things scared him more.
Chuck looks at Sofia. Sofia Sinclair...she was something else. There was no fear in the woman's eyes. She knew the baby was coming, and she was ready for it. She was prepared to tackle motherhood head-on, and nothing was going to stop her. She was a braver soul than Chuck in that regard...perhaps that's why he married her. He adored it about her. She was driven. She was smart, a quality Chuck admired in anyone, especially women. More importantly, though, she knew what to do with the knowledge, and that was a far more valuable skill to have. But what Chuck loved most about her was her undying courage...her uncanny ability to hide her fears, her insecurities, her qualms about whatever lie ahead. Chuck was a brave soul, but his came in a different form. Fear wasn't a commonality in Chuck's world. He simply wasn't an easily-frightened individual. He wasn't worried for the future. He had no anxieties when speaking in front of a crowd. Even death had lost its frightening visage to him. But on those rare occasions...fatherhood. Marriage....Chuck was terrified. And it wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. Sofia was different. Chuck knew she was afraid, maybe even more than he was. But she could hide it. She could bury her anxieties behind a warm smile and a collected demeanor. She was tough. She could weather the storm.
But perhaps that shouldn't have come as a surprise to Chuck. It was who she was. It was what she did. It was a long road to get to where Chuck was now. Two years, retired from wrestling. Two years, under federal protection. Now, for the first time in a long time, Chuck felt safe. Everything was at ease...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
An Office
Washington, DC
Two Years Ago
Chuck sits behind a wooden table, his feet propped up in front of him. His suit is wrinkled, shabby-looking. It was an expensive suit, that much wasn't in question. But it was clear that Chuck rarely wore it, and made no effort to keep it maintained, even when he did. Next to him sits James Larson, Chuck's lawyer. Pacing before Chuck is Eliot Quinn, the Attorney General, who has been interrogating Chuck for several minutes now.
Eliot Quinn: "No criminal background?"
Chuck Matthews: "Not that I'm aware of."
Quinn pauses, looking at Chuck.
Eliot Quinn: "You pay your taxes?"
Chuck Matthews: "When I remember."
Eliot looks at him sternly. Chuck raises his hands in surrender.
Chuck Matthews: "Okay, no more jokes! Yes, I pay my taxes."
Eliot Quinn: "Need I remind you, Mr. Matthews, that this interview will determine your eligibility into this protection program. Do you understand that?"
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah. Gotcha."
Eliot Quinn: "Then I advise you take this a little more seriously. And take your feet off the table."
Chuck moves his feet to the floor and sits up straight.
Eliot Quinn: "Now then. Your family. It says here you have four siblings?"
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah."
Eliot Quinn: "And you're the youngest."
Chuck Matthews: "Correctomundo."
There's that stern look again.
Chuck Matthews: "Yes, that is correct."
Eliot Quinn: "What about your parents. Still alive?"
Chuck Matthews: "I believe so."
Eliot Quinn: "What do you mean?"
James Larson: "Where is this going?"
Eliot Quinn: "If we are to investigate Mr. Matthews' character, it is essential that we understand the world he comes from."
James Larson: "Mr. Matthews' family is not on trial here. Mr. Matthews himself is not on trial here. This hearing is to determine whether he is a fit candidate for this program!"
Eliot stares at Larson. He frowns.
Eliot Quinn: "Fine."
He removes a file from his briefcase.
Eliot Quinn: "I have here your psychological profile."
Chuck Matthews: "Ooh, this is my favorite part."
Larson buries his face in his hands. Quinn smiles.
Eliot Quinn: "I'm sure it won't fail to entertain."
He flips open the file, reading a few of the pages.
Eliot Quinn: "'Highly intelligent-'"
Chuck smiles, leaning back in his chair.
Eliot Quinn: "'Demonstrates high cognitive ability and above-average spatial and logical reasoning skills.'"
Chuck Matthews: "Sweet."
Eliot Quinn: "'Exhibits extensive knowledge spanning a vast array of subjects.' A goldmine of useless information, Mr. Matthews?"
Chuck Matthews: "No information is useless."
Eliot Quinn: "'Masterful understanding of psychology and sociology.' Any comments on that one, Matthews?"
Chuck Matthews: "Nothing I didn't already know."
Eliot looks at the paper, then to Chuck, a smile forming on his face.
Eliot Quinn: "'Extreme narcissism.'"
Chuck pauses for a moment, sitting up straight. Finally, he shrugs.
Chuck Matthews: "....yeah, I can't argue with that."
Eliot frowns.
Eliot Quinn: "And you don't find this a problem?"
Chuck Matthews: "We all have our problems, Quinn."
Larson stands.
James Larson: "I would like to point out that Mr. Matthews has already allocated numerous assets to government agencies, at great risk to himself and his company, simply because the government requested it. He is under no legal or moral obligations to hand ANY of his company resources to you, and yet he has cooperated, under the pretense that should any trouble come his way, he wouldn't be left pissing in the wind!"
Eliot Quinn: "Funny, there was no fine print on those agreements."
James Larson: "Regardless, if Mr. Matthews seeks protection from enemies made as a result of his voluntary actions to the United States, it is the duty of the US to protect him as best they can, especially if they seek to continue to use the information Mr. Matthews provides. If not, then I believe that he reserves the right to pull these resources from the hands of these agencies."
Eliot Quinn: "It would take us months to resituate and move our operations."
James Larson: "Then I suggest you get packing. There is no legal documentation requiring Mr. Matthews to hand over any of the information he's provided."
Eliot scratches his chin.
Eliot Quinn: "Look...I'm not saying Mr. Matthews hasn't been a valuable asset to our investigations. He has. I'm saying there are alternative routes he can take that are hardly this drastic. He doesn't need this program."
Chuck frowns. He nods, slowly at first.
Eliot Quinn: "However...I've come up with an alternative that I think you might find to your liking."
Chuck looks at Quinn.
Chuck Matthews: "Go on..."
Eliot Quinn: "We obviously want your continued consultation and insight into the Insurgency investigation. And yes, we do understand that the knowledge of this cooperation puts you at great risk."
Eliot Quinn opens the door behind him, poking his head out into the hallway.
Eliot Quinn: "We're ready for you."
He holds the door open, and a blond woman walks in. She wears a business suit, but Chuck sees the barrel of a gun dangling at her side. She folds her hands behind her back, staring down her nose at Chuck. She has a tiny sneer on her face, as though this entire situation is a burden to her.
Eliot Quinn: "Mr. Matthews, this is Agent Sofia Evans, FBI. She's going to be your handler through this operation."
Chuck Matthews: "My handler?"
Eliot Quinn: "She will be ensuring your safety until this ordeal is over. What she says goes. We have given her full power over this situation. I trust her judgment, and if you wish to stay safe, I recommend that you do the same."
Chuck stares at Sofia. She makes no attempt to greet him, or even to make eye contact. Chuck smiles.
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah. Sure, great, works for me. A pleasure, Mrs. Evans."
He extends his hand. Sofia looks at it, but doesn't move. Chuck pulls his hand away.
Chuck Matthews: "She's a charmer, isn't she?"
Eliot smirks.
Eliot Quinn: "I'm sure you two will get along just fine."
He turns to Larson.
Eliot Quinn: "Is that satisfactory?"
Larson nods towards Chuck.
James Larson: "That's for him to decide."
Chuck frowns. The whole thing was a big mess. The government was investigating The Insurgency, a home-grown terrorist group that had quickly become a bigger and more dangerous threat in recent years. Ordinarily, Chuck would have stayed as far as he could away from something like that. But they suspected that Corey Casey was somehow involved, and when Chuck let slip that he might have known something about it, he was hounded for information. Chuck and Corey had worked together for years, as competitors in NLWF, and then as business associates in IWF. Corey was an IWF star, and was often credited as one of the co-founders. He was their first world champion, a main event player for much of IWF's existence, and, shortly after his retirement in 2012, Corey was the third inductee into IWF's Hall of Fame.
Chuck was never an active member of the IWF roster. In reality, Chuck's "retirement" from the sport came in 2011, shortly after he took control of NLWF, dismantling it so that IWF could get off the ground. Chuck had competed a few times in the IWF ring - Nine matches over the span of three years - but had never been a contracted member of their roster. His services tended to be more on the business side of things. He had acted as a consultant during Jessica Casey's short run as IWF's general manager. Chuck served as a color commentator for most of IWF's first year of operation. Most importantly, Chuck was the man responsible for putting IWF on TV. MEN TV and Matthews Enterprises' pay-per-view provider broadcast all things IWF, from shows to big events to Hall of Fame ceremonies to the occasional promotional work done by one of their stars. In addition, Chuck, as a personal favor to Corey Casey and Brandon Macdonald, paid most of IWF's bills, including purchase and maintenance of the IWF ring.
Chuck had made a deal with Corey, back when IWF was still a vision in Casey's mind. He demanded that Corey find money for himself. Any money Corey could get, be it from his own pocket, from an investor, from a company bake sale for all Chuck cared, and Chuck himself would match it. Of course, at the time, Chuck hadn't expected Corey to come up with much. Ever since NLWF had closed down, Corey was unemployed. Chuck was virtually unaffected by the wrestling company's demise...hell, he was responsible for most of it himself. But when NLWF tanked, Chuck simply moved over to business, focusing on ME and making money that way. Wrestling was all Corey had. With no company prepared to hire him, Casey was broke, unemployed, and had no real way to raise the money to kick off a new promotion.
Somehow, Corey came back, and with plenty enough money to kick off a small independent promotion on his own. True to his word, Chuck doubled the money...and IWF was born. He had never really questioned where Corey had inexplicably procured these funds, though he knew he had to have borrowed it. Jessica herself had no logical explanation for it, and was as surprised as Chuck when Corey showed up out of the blue with five million dollars to blow. Now, the feds were investigating the source of this money, and had good reason to believe that Corey had gotten tangled up in this group. Why? How? Chuck had no idea. But his storied history with Corey had made him a key figure in their investigation. Shortly after his first visit, Chuck began receiving mysterious threats, and a week after meeting with the FBI, a bombing was foiled just outside ME's corporate headquarters. Now, Chuck sought refuge from these threats before they got out of hand. His lawyer had pushed to get Chuck relocated, at least until the mess blew over.
Chuck Matthews: "So long as it keep me off the radar of these guys, I'll do whatever."
Quinn smiles.
Eliot Quinn: "Well then, Mr. Matthews. Make yourself friendly with Agent Evans here. You two are going to be spending a lot of time together from now on."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Matthews Residence
Chicago, Illinois
Two Years Ago
Chuck Matthews: "Oh, fuck you."
Sofia Evans: "You wanted protection."
Chuck Matthews: "This isn't exactly what I had in mind."
Sofia frowns. Chuck looks down at the papers.
Chuck Matthews: "Nobody's going to believe this."
Sofia Evans: "They will. You just need to give it a bit of time. Don't rush it. Slowly move it, in pieces. The idea is to take eyes off of you and direct them to a new target."
Chuck Matthews: "There are two thousand people in that building at any given time. I can't help them. And it's clear to me that you have little interest in doing it either."
Sofia Evans: "You're missing the point."
Chuck Matthews: "Enlighten me."
Sofia Evans: "Jesus, Matthews. Your company is not the focus of their attacks. You are. Your company is only feeding us information on your go-ahead. If we remove you from the picture, their threats stop. That's what we're trying to do here. We need to keep them focused on you, and we need to remove everything tied to you so that the only thing that can attack is you personally. Understand?"
Chuck Matthews: "That doesn't give me any relief."
Sofia Evans: "It shouldn't. But that's why we're relocating you. Giving you a new identity. You'll be going off the grid. Now, granted, we can't just remove you entirely from existence. Chuck Matthews needs to exist. We just...can't let you be found."
Chuck Matthews: "I don't like it."
Sofia Evans: "Would you rather do this on your own?"
Chuck looks at her. She was getting frustrated. Sofia was hard-headed. Chuck was learning that very quickly. Or maybe Chuck was just pushing the right buttons.
Chuck Matthews: "You know, you're cute when you're upset."
Sofia Evans: "Shut the fuck up."
Chuck smiles. Sofia looks at him and rolls her eyes, groaning.
Sofia Evans: "That's so pathetic."
Chuck Matthews: "But adorable, right? Come on, be honest. It's totally working."
Sofia slams her hands on the table, and gets to her feet, but not before leaning in close to Chuck and hissing at him.
Sofia Evans: "You're fucking hopeless, you know that?"
She storms out of the room, slamming the door to Chuck's garage. Chuck looks at the files. He had to admit...it WAS a solid plan. Maybe a little unorthodox...but it worked, somehow. Chuck groans.
'I need to apologize, don't I...'
Chuck Matthews: "Fuck."
He slowly stands, heading to the garage. The door is open slightly. Chuck reaches to open it, but hears Sofia's voice on the other side of the door, talking on the phone.
Sofia Evans: "Pull me out."
There's a pause.
Sofia Evans: "I understand that, but I'm at the end of my rope. The man doesn't care about being helped. It's his way or the highway, and he's shot down every one of my conventional methods."
Another pause.
Sofia Evans: "I did. I came up with the most bizarre, convoluted scheme I've ever thought up. I figured maybe that would get him. Nothing. The man simply will not let me help. He sits there and makes snide sexual comments and...he..."
Sofia groans in exasperation. Chuck shakes his head.
Sofia Evans: "....then assign another agent to his case. I'm giving up. Let Macdonald get him, I don't give a shit."
Sofia pauses again.
Sofia Evans: "....yes. Yes, I understand.......I'll do what I can."
She takes a deep breath.
Sofia Evans: "I'll give you an update as soon as I can."
She hangs up. Chuck races back to the coffee table, and reads through the files. Sofia re-enters the room. Her eyes are red, and her face is a little puffy...she's been crying. Chuck feels his stomach drop. He quickly averts his eyes, pretending he doesn't notice.
Sofia Evans: "I called my supervisor. He's got another assignment for me in Nevada. He'll be sending round the clock surveillance until he can find another agent to take over your case."
She's lying. Chuck knows it. He looks at the files in front of him.
Chuck Matthews: "You don't want to be here."
Sofia opens her mouth, but no words come out.
Sofia Evans: "I...I have a job to do, Mr. Matthews. It's not a matter of what I want or don't want. This is what I get paid to do."
Chuck Matthews: "Yeah....no, you're right. I get it."
Sofia looks at Chuck, a quizzical expression on her face.
Chuck Matthews: "Hey, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm a, uh...I'm an idiot."
Sofia Evans: "I find it hard to believe that a man that the FBI thinks has an IQ fifty points north of 'Genius' is an idiot."
Chuck Matthews: "I'm trying to apologize, can you cut me a break?"
Sofia smiles. Chuck had never seen her smile.
Sofia Evans: "You're new at it, aren't you."
Chuck Matthews: "I guess it wouldn't surprise you if I said yes."
Sofia Evans: "It's obvious."
Chuck snorts. He's silent.
Chuck Matthews: "Look...let's give this a shot. This plan, I mean. I don't really like it...but I guess you're the expert, right? Walk me through it."
Sofia eyes Chuck suspiciously.
Sofia Evans: "You're serious?"
Chuck stretches his arms out.
Chuck Matthews: "I am yours to mold and transform as you wish."
He looks at the paper in front of him.
Chuck Matthews: "So...Jackson Sinclair. Seriously?"
Sofia Evans: "I worked hard on that name!"
Chuck Matthews: "It sounds like a fucking plantation owner of something from the 1800's."
Chuck raises his brow and puts on an airy expression. When he speaks, he does so with a high-class southern accent, slowly and annunciating every word.
Chuck Matthews: "Why, did you hear what ol' Lady Dithers is up to down the lane? I hear that woman has been hitchin' her privies up for Mr. Robinson up the way. The harlot!"
Sofia tries to stifle her giggle, but fails, and lets out a squeak.
Sofia Evans: "Somehow I don't think that's how they talk...but actually, I like that. Can you talk like that regularly?"
Chuck Matthews: "You serious?"
Sofia Evans: "Well, I mean...if someone walks up to you on the street, could you speak like that? Nobody would ever connect that voice to you."
Chuck Matthews: "I mean, I could probably- what are you doing?"
Sofia has taken a lock of Chucks hair into her hands. She gently runs her fingers through the long blonde strands before letting it fall lightly to Chuck's shoulders. She looks at Chuck, tapping her finger against her lips, deep in thought.
Chuck Matthews: "What are you going to do?"
Sofia Evans: "How partial are you to your hair?"
Chuck Matthews: "Oh no. No, no, no. Don't touch my-"
He looks at the document, and at Sofia's face. He remembers his apology to her. He said he would try and make it work...and if that meant sacrifices needed to be made, then that's what he would have to do. Chuck sighs.
Chuck Matthews: "What are you going to do?"
Sofia Evans: "I think you'd look good as a brunette."
Chuck buries his face in his hands.
Chuck Matthews: "This is going to be painful, isn't it..."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Sinclair Residence
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
Three Months Ago
Chuck lies on the sofa, his arm across his forehead, his eyes closed. The TV is on in the background. Sofia walks in, a bowl of cereal in her hand. She stops, looking at her husband. Chuck slowly opens his eyes.
Chuck Matthews: "Can I help you?"
Sofia Sinclair: "Just wondering where you were."
She bends down, kissing his forehead before taking a seat on the arm of the sofa. Chuck lifts his head , resting it on her leg.
Sofia Sinclair: "You okay?"
Chuck Matthews: "Just thinking."
Sofia Sinclair: "Surprise, surprise."
She runs her hand through his hair.
Sofia Sinclair: "You should recolor it."
Chuck shrugs.
Chuck Matthews: "It's on my to-do list."
Sofia frowns.
Sofia Sinclair: "Alright. What's wrong?"
Chuck Matthews: "Nothing."
Sofia Sinclair: "Bullshit. Come on, talk to me."
Chuck Matthews: "Don't worry about it."
Sofia Sinclair: "Hey, what time is it? Where's the remote?"
Chuck glances at his watch.
Chuck Matthews: "Seven."
Sofia snatches the TV remote from Chuck, flipping the channels.
Chuck Matthews: "I was watching that."
Sofia Sinclair: "You're going to want to see this."
She stops at a news station, and points to the TV. Chuck sits up, suddenly interested. A face is shown on the screen. A middle-aged man, with a thick jaw and neatly combed blond hair is shown in a small box in the corner of the screen.
Reporter: "Tonight's Top Story: Insurgency leader Vance Ludo has been captured. The nation sleeps a little easier with one of America's most wanted criminals taken into custody. Ludo is believed to be responsible for several high-profile robberies, shootings, and bombings over the last ten years-"
Sofia looks at Chuck, smiling.
Sofia Sinclair: "We got him."
Chuck Matthews: "You're kidding."
Sofia Sinclair: "Got the call from Quinn myself this morning."
Chuck Matthews: "He's done?"
Sofia Sinclair: "We have enough on this guy that we could put him away for a thousand lifetimes. Chuck, it's over."
Chuck nods. Two years, he'd been in hiding from that man on the screen right there...and now it was over. He didn't have to hide. He could go back to his regular life. Be a regular person again.
Chuck Matthews: "So...I mean...it's finished then, right? I mean-"
Sofia Sinclair: "Tired of living in Oklahoma?"
Chuck Matthews: "....will you be upset if I said yes?"
Sofia laughs, and kisses him.
Sofia Sinclair: "I'll put in the request to withdraw you from the program. You did good, Chucky."
Chuck cringes at the name. Sofia clearly notices, because she smirks.
Sofia Sinclair: "Would you rather I just call you Jack forever?"
Chuck laughs.
Chuck Matthews: "On second thought...Chucky sounds pretty good."
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Matthews Residence
Chicago, Illinois
Present Day
Two years, hiding in plain sight, testifying against various criminals that he only knew because he had accidentally stumbled upon their operations. Two years away from what he loved most. He couldn't run his business. He couldn't wrestle. Most of the time, he spent his hours rotting away in his apartment in Oklahoma. It was nice to know that it was all over.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. As much as Chuck disliked leaving his beloved hometown, his friends and family, his business and hobbies, he had gained something far more valuable in return. Sofia and Chuck grew close during their time working together. A year into it, Chuck asked her to marry him...and she did. It was a long and tedious story, explaining to people why Sofia and Chuck had different last names. Most of them assumed that Sinclair was her maiden name, and she had simply never changed it. The truth was that when they married, Chuck was operating under the Jackson Sinclair name...and so that was the one that Sofia adopted, in order to keep Chuck's true identity safe. Now that it was over, they often talked about getting it changed to Matthews. But it wasn't terribly important to either of them. They knew who she was, and so did their friends. Maybe someday, she would do it. Until then, Chuck actually sort of liked her Sinclair name. It served as a reminder of what they had done. How they had met. What they had been through together. Such things had a value of their own.
Chuck blinks. He's awake, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It's been several hours since the discussion in the living room earlier today. Though unremarkable, the scene replays again and again in Chuck's head. Raylyn had never laughed like that. Not at Chuck, anyway. Those were the moments that Sofia loved to point out to Chuck. She knew his anxiety. She knew he worried. He was convinced of it: He was going to be a terrible father. Sofia, then, was always happy to point to instances like that. Times when Chuck could interact with Jessica's kids, get them to smile, make them happy...be a father figure to them while their own father was away on the road. If anything, though, those fleeting moments scared Chuck the most. And it was because they were fleeting. True, there were times when Chuck could do right by the kids. He could prove himself a positive role model. But fathers couldn't be fathers every now and then. They were fathers always. Around the clock. Seven days a week. Those fleeting moments weren't good enough. Chuck wasn't good enough.
Chuck looks over at the clock. The red light of the alarm clock glares at him.
3:00 AM
Chuck rolls onto his back. He steals a glance to his other side, where Sofia lays. Through the darkness, he makes out the large lump of her belly...the omen of things to come. Chuck sits up, letting his feet dangle off the bed. He scratches the back of his head before standing, heading down to the kitchen.
As he fills a glass with water, he stares out the kitchen window, to the backyard. He couldn't see much outside, really. The light of the kitchen reflected back off the glass, and Chuck could only see his own face, staring back at him. He takes a drink. A father...
Chuck swishes the water around in his mouth a bit before leaning over the sink and spitting it out. He stands up, looking out the window again...into the gaunt face of the man suddenly standing on the other side.
Chuck Matthews: "Motherfucker!"
Chuck jumps back, dropping the glass, which clatters in the sink. Chuck rubs his eyes and looks out the window again. Nothing. Nobody there. Chuck puts his hand over his heart, which races at lightning speeds. He turns around...and finds himself face-to-face with the same strange man.
??: "Hello, Charlie."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chuck Matthews: "How do you kill Superman?
You know, it's been a long time since I stood in front of a camera and had one of these lovely little fireside chats with the wrestling world. Truth be told, I wasn't sure if we'd ever see another one. But life's got a funny way of fucking with your head, doesn't it? One second, you're on top of the world, with gold around your waist, thousands of fans screaming your name, people across the world knowing who you are...and then Life throws you a curveball. Suddenly that business you opened for some extra revenue takes off, demands all of your attention, and you're forced to retire from active competition. You focus on your company. Some things happen. You cruise along for a couple years, running a business that's expanding faster than you can keep it under control. Finally, you level it off, pull in the reins, and for a while, it seems like everything is smooth sailing once again. And then, when you least expect it, Life throws you a curveball yet again. A wife. A baby on the way. An offer from an old associate. And suddenly, you're pitched headfirst, right back where you started: Back in the ring. And it all...comes...full...circle. Ain't that crazy? But, you see...I've learned a thing or two in my life, and one of those is that when Life constantly throws you curveballs, you better learn to hit 'em, or you're going to strike out.
I don't strike out.
No. When Life throws me a curveball, I hit that son of a bitch right out of the park. When Life hands me lemons, I make lemonade and sell that shit at two hundred percent markup. When Life knocks me down, I get right back up, brush myself off, and tell Life that if it wants me to stay down, it should really aim for the solar plexus, because those straight-stomach shots are for pussies. Did I miss any other five-dollar phrases to butcher? Lovely. Let's move on.
Ladies, gentlemen...I am a man who needs no introduction. But I'll give it anyway for sake of tradition.
My name is Chuck Matthews. I am the Smartest Man in Professional Wrestling. Learn that now, and the rest of our happy tenures here will be a whole lot easier.
So...there's a lot I could talk about. I've been out of the ring for a while. The last time anyone saw me, I was headlining some event or something in another company, in another city, honestly the details are a little fuzzy, but it's not important. What's important is that it's been a while since the wrestling world has seen my face. It's been a while since I put on the ol' Chuck Matthews boots and stepped between the ropes. And believe me, it's been a couple days, but I've already started to hear the critics in an uproar. Ring rust. Too old. Too beat up. Doesn't have it anymore. In fact, there seems to be a popular consensus that if Chuck Matthews should enter the ring again, it should prove to be disastrous! He might break a bone! He might pull a muscle! He might get seriously hurt! Did you people forget that I did this for seven years before I took my leave from this business? Did you forget that I was once one of this industry's premier players? That I was an icon? That I had a name that commanded respect? I was a king.
I know where this is going to go. 'Was.' As in, 'not anymore,' right? As in, 'Washed-Up.' As in, 'Has-been.' As in, 'We just watched your beloved protégé fail magnificently in EXODUS, and now you think you'll do better?'
That's what you were thinking, wasn't it? Come on, you've gotta give me a little more credit than that. I mean, I know I don't look as young and pretty as I used to, but that doesn't mean I'm not as dangerous as I ever was. I'm not like the other guys that leave this business, only to come back years later. I don't have that crippling injury that put me on the shelf. I'm not that beat up old piece of meat who took a few years to recuperate. I'm twenty-six years old and I'm still in the best shape of my life. And so, I suppose that begs the question: Why return at all?
That makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, if there was nothing that really forced me OUT of the business, then what could it possibly be that compelled me to come back IN? And that, oh lovely viewers, is what you're tasked to figure out. What is it that Chuck Matthews is after this time? What's his end game? What was it that EXODUS had that could entice the man who's already done everything there is to do in the business? That, my dear friends, is the unsolved riddle, and what I leave to you.
Ahh, I just saw a glint in your eyes. There's a good number of you that know my work, yeah? You know my M.O. You know what game I'm playing, and you know where this is going next. Well, for those of you who don't, now would be the time to listen up. Is everybody paying attention? Steverino, that means you.
Now...I won't get angry that the EXODUS world doesn't know that much about me. To be fair, I've tried my best over the last couple of years to make myself mostly unknown. But they've picked up on a couple of key points:
One: I am Chuck Matthews.
Two: I am the Smartest Man in Professional Wrestling.
So then, Mr. Lenton. I'd like you to- Oh no, don't you start yelling and flailing your arms just yet. There will be plenty of time for that later. What I would like you to do first is to reflect on what this actually means: You are fighting the single most intelligent human being in this business. You understand that, don't you? How does one prepare, knowing that little tidbit of information? Do you train any differently? Do you do your research? Do you get in the ring every day, making sure each move is executed to perfection, knowing full well that you can't afford to make any mistakes against a man like me? We know what my advantage is here, Steve. I've got the brains. I'm a thinker. I'm a schemer. What are you? What is the distinct advantage that you hold over me?"
Chuck clears his throat and looks dramatically into the camera, putting on his best Steve Lenton impersonation.
Chuck Matthews: "WAIT!! Is it the DRIVE of the Big L? It's that HEART and DETERMINATION that's going to go up against the smartest man in wrestling and give him the TOUGHEST EXODUS welcome of his LIFE??!!?!?!"
Chuck takes a small bow, and winks at the camera.
Chuck Matthews: "I'll tell you what, Stevie Blunder. Why don't you give that a shot, and let me know how well that works out for you.
Here's the bottom line, man. Hard work is nice. Drive is good. Determination? Lovely. But tell me, how does that make you any different from...you know, half the other wrestlers in this business? You're bigger than me? You're stronger than me? Congratu-fucking-lations, I'm 225 pounds, I've never been the biggest guy on the roster. Think that's gonna stop me? You think that's ever stopped me? What, you're more determined than I am? Are you? Are you really?
Determination is a funny thing, Steve. You need motive. You need a goal. What is drive if there's no destination? What's at the end of your road, Steve? What does this match mean for you?
Now, I won't pretend that this is going to be some walk in the park for me. Believe it or not, I know a little bit of your work. I know what you're capable of doing. I know your successes...but most importantly, I know your failures. You're wondering what it is that I do? What makes me so special?
THIS is what I do. I observe. I study. I learn. I plan. And I win.
The plan. I hope that clicked in your head. There is ALWAYS a plan. You know I'm here in EXODUS for a reason. You know there's a goal in my mind. You know there's an end game. And, of course, you know I won't tell you what that is.
Hey. I'll give you a hint. It's not a world championship.
But that's not your job, is it, Steve? That's a little bit above your paygrade. You're not paid to plan. You're not paid to think. You're paid to fight. This really fucks with your system, doesn't it? You live in this happy little world where people come in, they fight, they win or lose, and they move on with their lives. And it's on to the next week. The next match. The next paycheck. But me? I see things minutes, days, weeks before they even happen. I think five moves ahead, three games from now. Simply put? I'm on a whole other level. I'm operating on a completely different frequency. I see things for what they are. For what the could be. That's what makes me unique, Steven. That's what gives me power.
You'll sit there and tell the world that I've got a hell of a mountain to climb fighting you. And hey, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm in over my head. But I'm standing here, and it seems to me like all the pressure is on you, big guy. I mean, I don't pretend my name deserves respect around here. I can't brag about everything I've done, because everything I've done has happened in another world. Another lifetime. You, though? You're familiar. You're THE BIG L, for fuck's sake. You've held titles. You've won big matches. You're up against the new guy here, and all eyes are on you. If you win? Awesome. You beat the new guy. That's exactly what they're expecting of you. If you lose, though...what then? Some guy sauntered into EXODUS, looking to break shit, cause some trouble. And you let me right in. You opened that door.
There is a problem here, Steve, and that problem is Chuck Matthews. I am telling you, here and now, that you have a golden opportunity, and one that so few people have: You can stop Chuck Matthews before he ever gets off the ground. You can tear up his blueprints before he can lay down the foundation. You can destroy the weed before it takes root.
But no. As much as I might talk, ramble on, tell the world my plans, tell the world how great I am...I'm afraid it's not going to work. I don't think I've ignited you quite enough, Steve. You've got fire, Steve. You've got drive. But I don't think you have enough. I don't think you've got what it takes. Quite frankly, I don't think you have a chance in hell.
And thinking, Mr. Lenton, is the sort of thing that I do best.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because I need you to care, Steve. I need you at your best. I need the Big L that will march to that ring Monday night, look me right in the eye, show me that fire I've heard so much about. Make me take a step back. Make me rethink my strategy. Make me worry that maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew. Why? Because I am not interested in 'second-best.' I don't want second-best. I want the biggest and baddest Steve Lenton that you can muster. Because when that final bell rings, and I leave that ring, I want to walk to the back with a smile on my face, and the knowledge that I have done something truly spectacular. I beat Steve Lenton. I met the Big L head-on, and I cut him down to size. I took the best that he had to offer, and I came out on top.
I...killed...Superman."