The Next Step

by **Shay UA** Fri Sep 14, 2018 12:41 am

The camera comes in to a bright blue Reno afternoon sky. The camera pans down to show more of the Biggest Little City in the World, showing giant buildings in the background and cars driving around. We focus in on one building in particular: the El Morado casino. We pan inside to see an empty casino, except for two souls. We can see VIP Shay Hoxton drinking at the center bar, dressed in a rolled up purple dress shirt, a black vest, and jeans. Behind him, his personal coach is pacing behind him. The tiny, old, chubby man is clearly irritated.

“Come on, Shay! We’ve got to get back to training!”

Shay twirls around his glass - filled with what is most likely bourbon - before taking a drink. He chuckles, a grin forming on his face.

“Come on, it’s me, I’ve got this, I always do.”

The coach approaches Hoxton.

“You mean like you had Voice Vindy last Monday?”

Shay’s grin disappears faster than Tyson Cage’s title reign. The coach continues.

“You’ve never fought anyone like PJ Moon before. He isn’t your everyday opponent, he isn’t even your once a week pretty boy. This guy, he’s something special, he’s like a unicorn. I’ve been watching some of his tapes, and I think I might’ve found a crack in his strategy. You’re 3-1, and if we look into this we could get you in the Anarchy Championship ranks, and you know what that means.”

Shay puts his drink down and pushes himself up off the counter.

“Doug.”

The coach stops pacing and looks at Hoxton.

“Yes?”

“Why do I pay you?”

Not fully understanding the question, the coach answers with a confused tone in his voice.

“Well, because I help lead you to-”
“Because you aren’t stupid.”

The coach cocks his head.

“So please, tell me. How exactly is what I’m hearing worth the paycheck? How am I supposed to trust that you know PJ Moon when you don’t even keep up with me?”

Shay Hoxton walks past his coach, bumping his shoulder as he passes.

“3-1? Doug, you disappoint me. I became 4-0 before I even stepped foot in the Fusion ring. Don’t you remember what that doctor told me when Yuri Sakalov offered me a rematch with Voice Vindy?”

The coach sighs.

“He said he wou-”
“He said he wouldn’t suggest it. A doctor said I shouldn’t take the match, but I did anyways. I could’ve died! Do you know what would’ve happened if someone like you took that match? Let me tell you, it wouldn’t have gone well at all.”

Shay spins around, staring daggers at his coach.

“So why did I take it? Why would I risk my life for a simple match? Tell me.”

A few seconds pass of pure silence.

“Because you’re bitter?”
“Because I am a role model!”

Another couple of seconds of silence passes.

“The second I took that match, I won. I defeated Voice Vindy’s malicious attempts to end my career, I defeated my own body, and if I can be so bold I’d even say I beat the Grim Reaper himself!”

Shay begins to basks in his own glory.

“Aaaand the match itself?”

Shay raises his hand to his coaches mouth.

“Doug, did you take algebra in high school? You know, before you dropped out? Probably not, but if you did, you would’ve learned about something called proportions. You see, if I’m at forty percent, and Vindy is at eighty percent, and we had an even match, then we can assume that on an equal playing field, I would’ve won. If I would’ve won, I should’ve won. If I was healthy, I should’ve left that match 5-0.”

The coach sighs.

“That’s not how this works.”

Shay chuckles and pats him on the head.

“Yes, that is how proportions work. Maybe if you get your GED you’d understand.”

Shay walks back to the bar and leans against it again.

“So, what’s the plan with Moon?”

The coach joins Hoxton at the bar and pulls out his phone.

“Okay, look at these. These are some of his biggest moves, the most powerful, the most common, the most quick, the most efficient… but if we practice, the most exploitable. He likes to play up to the crowd, and I think we might be able to bait him and-”

Shay puts his hand on the phone, covering the screen. He nods his head.

“I’m going to cut you off there, amigo. You think? I don’t have you here to think, I have you here to know. Hell, maybe I should call Michael Lee Pratt, he knows how to make a fool out of PJ, doesn’t he?”

Shay reaches over the counter and grabs a bottle of bourbon. He pours himself another drink.

“I can’t give PJ Moon a single opportunity to steal a win away from me. As long as Drake Dunn is taking orders from that rat, Voice Vindy, I’m going to make sure I take everything else from him. I’m going to make an example out of him, show the world that anyone who associates with losers are doomed to fail. This match, it could be a huge factor in who gets the next match against Dunn.”

Shay takes a drink and nods his head.

“PJ, he just doesn’t have the ‘it’ you need to be a champion, it just isn’t in his blood. That’s why he lost the Money In The Bank ladder match, and that’s why he won’t beat Drake Dunn, he’s just not a champion. I like the kid, tolerate him at least, but what I’m doing is just too important for him. I can’t afford to have him let Voice corrupt CMV. So Doug, cut this stupid crap, look into his medical past. Does he have any previous injuries? A bad shoulder, a weak knee, neck issues, anything.”

Shay takes his drink and walks away from the bar.

“I don’t want to have to hurt the kid, but at the end of the day the ends always justify the means.”

Shay looks down at his drink and chuckles.

“After all, this world is survival of the fittest, and I don’t see any unicorns running around.”

Shay tosses the glass over his shoulder, causing it to shatter the second it hits the ground. Focusing on the glass, the camera fades to black.