Clark: I’ll have a cappuccino, 2 sugars please.

The waitress scribbles down the order on her notepad, before sending a beaming smile in Clark’s direction. As she walks off, Clark’s responding smile sinks into a frown, as he fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers. His eyes light up as he imagines that he is the salt and Dynamo is the pepper. In Clark’s mind, the table transforms into a Pyromania branded ring. Under his breath, he begins to mumble.

Pepper Dynamo:  (softly) Quick, we need to defeat those scumbags Parkes and Golden before the win the belts from Steve and Azreal!

Salty Clark: (softly) Don’t worry, Dynamo! Those belts will be ours in no time!

Pepper Dynamo:   (softly) How?! Parkes and Golden are nearly winning!

Salty Clark: (softly) I’ll use my trusty Clarky Crunch punch to knock the sense out of these two hooligans!

Pepper Dynamo:   (softly) Hurry!

Salty Clark: (softly) POOOOOOWWWWWW!!! Look, this is our chance to-

?: What on earth are you doing?

Clark looks up to a black hooded figure, with the zip undone to reveal a dirt white t-shirt underneath. Clark look down, observing the shin-length jeans, ripped across the knees. Immediately, he recognised who this person was.

Clark: Daniel?

Purser: What…what are you doing?

Clark: I could ask you the same question.

Purser: I was invited here.

Clark: So…so was I.

The two go silent, the footsteps of people passing become more audible than before. Purser looks away from Clark and pulls up a chair.

Clark: Who invited you?

Purser: Don’t know. Someone left a note on my locker when I was in Oklahoma. So I have no idea who it is.

Clark: Think it’s someone we both now?

Purser: Oh, no. It’s just a coincidence that we’re both in the same place at the same time on the same day that someone told us to be here.

Clark: Don’t patronise me.

Purser ignores the comment and stares around the building. Across from their table, a younger couple flirt, the lust between the two becoming obvious. Clark sits back in his chair, thinking. Purser gazes at him, noticing his lips moving around while he fantasies.

Purser: Are you okay?

Clark jolts, before realising he was being studied by Purser. He leans forward onto the table, a look of embarrassment spread across his face.

Clark: Sorry, I’m just-

Clark yelps softly in pain as he rubs his right shoulder blade back and forth.

Purser: Now I see why you’ve been in and out of hospital for weeks.

Clark: I’m not able to step inside a wrestling ring at all now because of him.

Purser: Him?

Clark: Who do you think?

Purser: He’s nothing.

Clark: I’m nothing.

Purser: He had you in a difficult situation. It happens.

Clark: Maybe he’s behind this?

Purser pauses his actions and ponders.

Purser:  He couldn’t be…could he?

Before Clark can answer, the lights in the café go out, as two muscular men’s sillouette are seen, as they grab Clark from around the neck and drag him away, as the power stays off for the next 20 seconds, the patrons screaming in panic.

---

Parkes sits in the chair against his bedroom wall, smiling at the seat across from him. He chuckle softly before pacing over to the chair.

Parkes: I’m sure, Matthew, that you’re wondering what has brought you here today.

Clark screams become only just audible, trapped in the ripped shirt that covers his jaw.

Parkes: When I came to this place, I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to make an impact as soon as I set foot in the building. And, well, as you plainly see, I did. By destroying your shoulder, by decimating your prime weapon in a matter of seconds.

Parkes gets down on one knee and stares into the eyes of Clark, his face emotionless.

Parkes: But I’m sure you’re wondering why it was you, why I chose you as my first step on the staircase to glory. Matthew, ever since I laid eyes on you I’ve thought you were nothing but a fucking coward who hides behind his friends, using their achievements to make you look better. You hid behind Sean, you followed him, and at the end of the day, all you were was a follower.

But Sean wasn’t the first. No no, Dick. Richard, if you will. You become the best of friends, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Well I have reason to believe that he never liked you. He used you as a piece of meat. But you just kept following him until he lead you to your own fate.

I am your fate, Matthew.

Parkes removes the shirt from around Clark’s mouth, before standing back up in front of him.

Parkes: Don’t say a word.

Clark: Fuck you.

Parkes backhands Clark across the face, saliva and blood flying across the room and dribbling down his chin. Parkes begins to breathe deeply and rubbing the knuckles of his right hand.

Parkes: WHAT DID I  JUST SAY?!

Clark: You think this is getting to Dick? Do you think this is going to make a difference before you step into the ring with him? He is stronger than you in every single fucking way.

Parkes halts from pacing back and forth and puts his hand into his jacket pocket. He removes a pistol, and points is directly into the face of Clark.

Parkes: Say a fucking word and I’ll shoot the fucking bullet straight through your fucking skull.

Clark keeps calm, but his mouth stays shut, and begins to breathe through his nostrils.

Parkes: You were the only true friend to him. You were the only thing that kept him a sane person in that ring. When you remove you from the equation, Matthew, the sane person who you become a true friend with became weaker and weaker every single day. Every single day, the thick layer of sanity that compressed his body was washed thinner and thinner and thinner. And when he steps into the ring with me at Blistering Inferno, the sanity will be completely gone, and I will step into the ring with…my first ever challenge.

The blank look on Clark’s face transforms into a confused one, as he squints his eyes as he ponders.

Clark: What happened to you calling yourself the best?

Parkes: I am the fucking best, but even the best wrestlers have to cope with something.

Clark: You wait til Dynamo here’s this.

Parkes points the gun even closer to his face as he grits his teeth together.

Parkes: You’re digging yourself a deeper grave.

Clark: Come on. Pull the trigger. Be the coward you are and kill me with a fucking bullet.

Parkes drops his arm to his side, and drops the gun to the floor. Before the smug look across Clark’s face can be evident, Parkes backhands him in the face again, before a fist to the nose send him flying over the back of his chair. Blood gushes down his face as Parkes grabs a draw from his side cupboard, and empties the contents on the bed. Parkes slams the draw against the neck of Clark, sending jolts through his body.

Parkes spots his pocket knife on his bed, along with the other former contents of the draw. He scrambles to his feet and grasps it, before kneeling over the falling body of Clark. Clark mouths off over and over, before Parkes shoves the longest blade deep into the right eyeball. Blood begins to explode out, as Parkes continuously digs deeper and deeper.

After he removes the blade from his eye socket, he grabs the ripped shirt by his side and shoves it down his throat, as deep as possible. He takes the knife again and presses it against his throat. He slides it along Clark’s Adam’s apple over and over, before turning it to an angle to cut straight through. Parkes begins to deliver short, sharp stabs to his throat, as the near-silent screams of Clark being heard.

Parkes grabs a pillow case from his bed and wraps it around Clark’s head, the blood being soaked up in the satin. Parkes grabs the his cell from this bedside table, presses a few numbers, before placing it against his ear.

Parkes: Bring the car around. The spare one.

---

The car pulls up in the middle of an empty field, trees surrounding the vacant lot. Parkes and his driver Peter look at each other. While Parkes is barely motionless, Peter’s hands and arms tremble in fear.

Peter: Sir…sir I don’t know if I can do this.

Parkes: What the fuck, Peter?

Peter: I just don’t know, sir. I’ve never done this before.

Parkes: Just…fuck, leave it to me.

Parkes opens his passenger seat door and steps out. He travels along the side to the back seat door. He opens to door and takes out a large petrol bottle. He slides himself up onto the roof and throws it all along the roof, the bonnet and the trunk. He slides off and opens trunk, where they motionless body of Clark lay. He empties the rest of the gasoline over his body, before slamming the trunk down. As he gaits back to the front, he begins to hear sobbing from the driver’s seat side.

Parkes: Really, Peter?

Peter: Sir, I can’t do it! I can’t kill someone!

Parkes: He’s already fucking dead.

Peter: But we’re destroying the evidence!

Parkes: That’s the point, you moron.

Peter: Sir, please!

Parkes stops and sighs, before looking back at Peter, whose tears begin to run down his face onto his shirt.

Parkes: Fine, fine. Wait here, close the door and…get yourself settled.

Peter smiles a little and closes the door. Parkes smiles even wider, and pulls out a box of matches from his pocket. He slowly walks away from the card, taking out a match in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He presses the phone to his ear and holds it with his shoulder.

Parkes: Jay, come pick me up. Don’t ask why. See you in 10 minutes. Be there. And also, congratulations. You’re my new driver. Now hurry the fuck up before I burn to death.

Parkes hangs up the phone and throws the lit match over his shoulder, as the car bursts into flames…