Stop the Press

The pungent smell of sweat punches you in the face as the locker room door opens. The APW has just wrapped up their weekly broadcast of Thursday Night Overdrive. Chris Madison sits alone on a steel folding chair with a towel over his head as he reflects on his match with Mad Mumf. There was something comforting and soothing to Chris about the silence in the room. A feeling which is quickly disturbed as the door swung open.

In walks Chris's close friend and business manager, Frankie Morrison. Dressed from head to toe in full business attire: a black pinstriped suit with a pale blue undershirt unbuttoned at the top, and a pair of black dress shoes. His black hair was slicked back and streaks of gray peeked their way through. He walks in while talking on his black iPhone. Madison was hunched over with his elbows to his knees. He looked over at the ruckus which broke up his moment of tranquility.

"Okay... So it's all set... Good, my client is looking forward to competing for you on Monday." With that, Frankie hung up his phone and put it into the breast pocket of his Gieves and Hawkes suit jacket. He looks over at Madison grinning from ear to ear. "That's it...officially we are in. Work visas are set, we leave for Halifax in the morning! We have an eight thirty flight out of Dulles International Airport, in Washington DC. I believe we should arrive at Halifax Stanfield International Airport around eleven forty six. It's a two hour direct flight but we jump forward an hour...you know time zone change."

Madison reached up and grabbed the towel off his head. He wiped the sweat that was beading down his forehead while Frankie stop by awaiting some form of a response. Madison threw the towel across the room into a laundry bin. "Is that all?" Madison questioned with a stern look on his face.

Frankie pulled out a steel chair that was folded up and resting against a wall. He opened it up and sat down on it opposite his client. "Don't you want to know anything about your appearance? Who your opponent or opponents are? Any stipulations to the match?" They sat still in the dead air for a moment as Frankie waited anxiously for some sort of excitement from his client.

"Frankie how long have you known me?" he inquired while starting to unravel some of the white tape he used on his fists.

Frankie though about it for a few seconds before responding with, "oh, about thirteen years now, going on fourteen."

"Exactly" he roared while looking amused with himself. "When have I ever gave a shit about who my opponent is? Or what kind of screwball stipulation the promoters have come up with?"

"You're right...just figured I'd keep you informed. You know, so there are no surprises when we get to Halifax." The attempt to explain himself failed miserably, garnishing absolutely no reaction from Chris. Frankie found himself informing Chris of his upcoming bout despite his carefree demeanor. "The promoter and owner, Angelo Valour, has put you in a fatal four way match. The winner gets to pick his opponent the following week in a heavyweight championship tournament match. You're going up against The Dark Spyder IV, Cid White, and Johnny Moxie."

Madison through the ball of tape into a garbage pail which sat next to him. He pointed to his face with his free hand before starting to unravel the other. "Do I look like I give a shit? It might as well be Lucifer, God, and Jesus Christ. As long as its booked, and I'm getting paid to fight, I'll be there!"

"Yeah I know. Again just trying to give you the heads up." Just then an audible tone begins to blare from his cellphone. Frankie digs into his pocket and picks it up. He stands to his feet and starts to pace while on the phone. "Hello... Speaking... No... My client is not interested in doing an interview... No... His contract with APW is still valid... He will only be performing on a part time basis with Canadian X Pro... Goodbye!"

Madison slammed the second ball of tape down into the waste basket before taking a jab at his business manager. "All good? Wife upset you forgot to call her again?"

"Funny. We're you not paying attention while I was on the phone?" Madison shook his head no as Frankie let out an agitated sigh. "It was one of those so called journalists from the dirt sheet websites. I don't remember which one. He wanted an interview. Of course he started pushing the issue of you leaving APW."

Chris continued to be very short while continuing to disrobe from his wrestling gear. "Sounds fascinating, really does."

Madison really knew which buttons to push. Frankie continuously grew more frustrated as the conversation continued. His face turn a steaming red. "Sometimes I think I'm the only one who cares about the direction of your career."

Madison stood to his feet and kicked off his wrestling boots that he had untied. He reaches out and pats Frankie on the chest causing a slap to echo through the locker room. "You know you may be onto something there..."

Frankie scowled as he rubbed his chest with hopes to rid it of that throbbing pain. "For someone who craves competition I would think you be happy about this gig."

Chris shook his head in disbelief. For someone who has known him for thirteen years, Frankie seemed to still not truly understand the madman. "We've been going through this routine for some time now Frankie. It's not that I'm not happy. I'm pumped! Inside I'm a fucking kid in a candy store! But it has nothing to do with who I'm facing, or where I'm fighting, or what idiotic stipulation is involved in the match. I've done it all in this industry. I've been world champion in multiple companies. I've competed all over the world, including a six year stint in Japan. Doors open and close all the time in the wrestling world. You can't get caught up in the missed opportunities. The only thing that I care about is having a matched booked!"

"It has been some ride huh?" Frankie started to beam while think of the past thirteen years.

"It has been one hell of a ride. I wouldn't change my path one bit. And the ride isn't nearly over! There is still plenty of left in this tank. On Monday, the people of Halifax and fans of Canadian X Pro will have the privilege of witnessing another chapter in my storied career. Like it or not, that chapter may just end with me winning that their Canadian X Heavyweight Championship and parading it around the locker rooms of APW shows! I'm sure Angelo would be thrilled if his champion was barely around because of other obligations!" Chris started to chuckle at the thought. What a way to start a company that would be. The heavyweight champion not even a full time member of the company! The thought alone made Chris giddy.

Frankie started to get the picture as he shared in the chuckle with Chris. "That would make for an interesting predicament."

"Now you get it. Anything I can do to disrupt the order is what gets me jacked! Chaos is my guilty pleasure!" Chris reached into his locker and pulled out a clean towel. He placed it over his shoulder before turning back to Frankie. "Now if you don't mind I need to shower. A big day ahead of us tomorrow. Halifax will never know what hit them!"

Frankie nodded his head before exiting through the doors. Chris placed the towel around his waist and then dropped his fight shorts. He slipped on a pair of flip flops he had grabbed out of his bag and then shuffled towards the shower room as the scene cuts out.



It was as if we were real life time travelers. The wrestling industry had you on the road most of the year. One day you'd wake up in an airport not knowing the day or the time. An hour here, and an hour there. Four hours forward, and three hours back. One would wonder how many days were lost or gained during their travels. Chris Madison walked around the baggage claim of the Halifax Stanfield International Airport in a zombie like trance. His light blue tank top was loose fitting and his black cargo shorts were baggy. He tried to hide behind a large pair of black Oakley sunglasses.

Madison sat down on one of the conveyor belts which had plastic signs stating "Out Of Order". He looked down at his watch rather impatiently while Frankie stood next to him shaking his leg. He looked down at his gold Rolex watch and sucked his teeth. "We've been off the plane for almost an hour. Where the hell are the DAMN bags!"

The outburst was loud enough to generate some dirty looks from the other travelers waiting around. Chris rose to his feet and placed his arm around Frankie, grasping a hold of his shoulder with a firm grip. He pulled Frankie closer and whispered, "Why don't you relax a bit! You're causing a scene!" The two men looked around and slightly waved while bowing their heads. Madison reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. He slapped it into the open palm of Frankie. "I think there was a coffee shop not too far away. Why don't you get us both a cup. I need something to take away the edge and you could use a walk to cool your head!"

"That's not all that bad of an idea..." he muttered while humbly accepting the money.

Madison sat back down on the faulty conveyor belt to wait for their bags. As he sat down a young lady approached him. She flashed a million dollar smile as she took a seat a mere arms length away. Her blonde hair was pin straight and about shoulder length. She wore a purple blouse and a black dress skirt which was right about knee length. A pair of black high heels finished the ensemble. "You're friend is a little high strung" she said followed by a flirtatious giggle.

Madison's cynical mentality had kept his answer short and sweet, "I suppose..."

The young woman failed to pick up on Chris's disinterest in having a conversation. She continued to prod him with questions. "Is he always like that?"

"Every time we travel." He remained cautious of the young woman whom he's never met before. Unsure of her intentions he would keep his answers as simple as possible.

"I could understand the feeling. I travel a lot because of my job. In fact that's why I'm here. Some grand opening that my job wants me to attend. The jet lag definitely effects everyone differently." She places her hand over her mouth and lets out a playful laugh. "Here I am going on and on without properly introducing myself. My name is Patricia, Patricia O'Brien. All my friends call me Trisha." she extended her arm out and her hand dangled, limp at the wrist.

Madison reciprocated the gesture by reaching over with his hand and delicately shaking Trisha's hand. "Chris..."

If anything she was persistent. No matter how many failed attempts she continued to try to get to know Madison. "Pleasure to meet you. What brings you to Halifax?"

The playful banter has knocked down Chris's guard a bit. "Work. A grand opening of sorts that I must attend."

"This is nice..." she inches her way closer to Chris as their comfort level with one another continues to rise. "Traveling a lot is tough. Being on the road I have found it to be hard to maintain any relationships in my life. In fact these short term relationships are all that I have. I'm sure you understand."

With a shrug of his shoulders he stated an emphatic "no". She tilted her head slightly to the right a Madison started to explain. "It's all about surrounding yourself with a good core of people. Frankie has been by my side for thirteen years now. My younger brother is as close to me as brothers can be. Not to mention the friends I have surrounded myself with at my company."

There is an uncomfortable moment while Trisha stares at Chris. She puts her index finger up to her lips an taps a few times. "What is it that you do again? I swear I have seen you before. I just can't place it."

He grinned from ear to ear, anticipating the events which were about to unfold. "I'm a professional...."

Suddenly Frankie is seen running back towards Madison with two cups of coffee in hand. "Whoa! What the fuck is going on here!"

Chris and Trisha quickly hop up to their feet. Chris has a bewildered look on his face as Frankie continues to approach. He reaches out handing off one the cups of coffee, passing by Madison and getting right up to Trisha. "Frank..."

While running his free hand through his slick backed hair he replied, "Patty..." He looked back at Madison who was still trying to figure out what was going on. "I thought I told you in the phone last night, no interviews. Why don't you fix yourself. You seem to be coming out of your shirt."

She looked down while buttoning her shirt up higher. "You can't blame a girl for trying. Can you?" Her comment warranted her some unpleasant looks from both Madison and Morrison as well as bystanders. "An interview with Chris Madison would boost my career! Please just a few questions."

Frankie folded his arms over one another across his chest and shook his head no. "Crawl your skanky ass back to whatever dirt sheet website you came from and explain to your boss that my guy doesn't do interviews unless he requests it! You got it?"

She bit down on her bottom lip as she strolled passed Frankie. She stops next to Chris and reaches into her handbag. After shuffling around the items in the bag she pulls out a business card and hands it over to Chris. He flips it around in his had and looks it over. "If you ever change your mind...Just give me a call on my cell."

Chris chose to not respond while studying the business card in his hand. Frankie walks up to Chris and takes a sip of his coffee while standing side by side. "I'm sure in a few hours there will be some story on the web about how big of dicks we were to her."

"Whoa! Big deal! Lets stop the press's. Chris Madison was an asshole!" he sarcastically snarled before drinking from his cup. "Wasn't the first and won't be the last. You kind have to admire her determination though..."

"I don't have to admire anything. I despise reporters. Always bending the truth to make their story entertaining...Ugh"

Just then the first bag finally drops from the chute and lands on the conveyor belt which begins to slowly move. Both men move up towards the belt and wait for their bags as the scene fades...

----------------The Shoot-----------------

The feed reopens to what will become a familiar self documentary style of filming created by Chris Madison and his handheld camera. The camera rests atop a dresser while Madison sits on the edge of a bed in what is presumably his hotel room.

"Oh Canada...The Great White North! A couple of weeks back I was approached after an APW show about the opportunity to compete for Canadian X. At first I was a little apprehensive about it with my full time schedule elsewhere. Once I found out from the booking representative that I can be signed on a part time basis I knew that this was meant to be. I had been given another outlet to inform the masses of the ugly truths which mask this industry. A new, more intimate setting in which reality shall be revealed."

"I wonder though if Angelo knows already. I think he's on to me. It feels like he's trying to butter me up, praying that I won't rip this place apart, brick by brick! So how do you keep a man who starves for anarchy happy? You feed him a few poor saps to curb that appetite! What's more chaotic than a fatal four way match? First pinfall or submission gets the win. Not only do I have to focus on trying to win the match but I have to be cognizant enough to prevent the other dopes from picking up my scraps and sneaking a win."

"This guy must be desperate for his new promotion to succeed. Surprisingly he's allowed wrestlers who can not commit to a full schedule into his heavyweight championship tournament. Either he's hoping one of us wins so we can showcase his title to a larger fan base or he's hoping one of his guys beat us to gain some notoriety. Let me set something straight for you Angelo. I am not here to blast off someone else's career and I sure as hell am not going to be your poster boy! WHEN I win this tournament I am going to take that hunk of scrap metal you pride your company in, stuff it in my gym bag, and keep it as far away from this company as I possibly can!"

"Which brings me to my opponents. Cid White, the Dark Spyder, and Johnny Moxie. Three guys who are unfortunate enough to have to get inside the squared circle with me. How does it feel to know that your fearless leader has led you to the slaughterhouse? Something I learned a long time ago when I broke into the business is that promoters are slimy, two timing, disgusting people who are only out to benefit themselves. Angelo benefits with this circus act by lining his pockets. He doesn't care about you boys!"

"Cid you seem to be fairly new to the wrestling world. Real eager to get out there and get your feet wet. We've all been there. Brand spanking new, with full intention to prove themselves worthy of a steady schedule. You do that with your actions. You prove yourself in the ring. You're gonna take your fair share of lickings, it's natural. Nobody is perfect despite their own perceptions. But don't be mistaken by thinking you are the only one who has something to fight for. Your desire to be dominant may be enough to keep you in the fight but it won't always be enough. I've been doing this long enough to be comfortable in their blindfolded. It's my sanctuary. Beating me on Monday wouldn't be a fluke, it would be dumb luck!"

"Come Monday night you'll be the only one left feeling humiliated. The only Canadian in this fatal four way match. You'll be a national disgrace when some masked man and two guys from New York spend the night slapping you around! An embarrassment to an entire nation. A lot of pressure for someone who is brand new. Can you deal with it? Or will you crumble because of it? One might think you'll have that hometown advantage. Well that advantage is only good if you know how to make it benefit yourself. After all is said and done you'll fail, you'll let that opportunity slip through your hands and you'll be left ashamed of that so called attempt of dominance you claim to strive for!"

"Which brings me to my next opponent. The Dark Spyder number four. There's a lot of intrigue when it comes to you. A mystique all because no one knows who is under that mask. So far the people who have worn that mask come from a good pedigree. Kyle Cross and two of his students. Being trained in that school by Kyle Cross and Chris Legion carries a lot of weight in the wrestling world. It's up there with the Hart dungeon. While promoters may salivate over the chance to have someone from that school on their roster, I'm not impressed. I don't care who taught you. I don't care if you are Kyle Cross or Chris Legion themselves. I don't get intimidated by anyone. There's nothing that you can do to me that I haven't been through already."

"I've never been one for the mask. Throughout history fans have rallied behind the mystery of masked wrestlers. It's almost a sacred symbol. In Mexico guys would much rather compete for their opponents mask instead of championships. Sounds crazy to me. Grown men who hide their identity. I respect the fact that you have kept that part of wrestlings history alive. I'm sure the fans of lucha libre appreciate the continuation of their rich past. But to me it's all a gimmick. It a publicity stunt and a poor attempt to gain easy revenue for a company. We live in a world that revolves around greed. One of the hottest souvenirs in our industry has always been wrestling masks. Anything that makes easy money for the scum that runs these companies should be discarded. They're not busting their humps out there. To me Spidey, you're a sell out, a company man, everything I despise!"

"Lastly there is Johnny Moxie. A fellow New Yorker who much like me just wants to win and will do whatever it takes. Even if that means bending the rules a bit. I think too many people overlook the value of winning. Sure it's nice to go out there and give it your all. But what if your best isn't good enough. You need to adapt, you need to evolve your game plan. You seem to understand that concept. It's why I think I'll have to keep my eyes on you most of all. You have a long list of accomplishments but what impresses me is that win at all costs mentality."

"This company is in for a rude awakening. What everyone failed to realize is that by signing me, they let the mad dog off the leash. I won't be held accountable for the reign of terror I'm going to bring. This is a warning. No longer will people be subjected to same boring crap. No longer do they have live in the dark while you feed them the same repetitive garbage that wasn't entertaining then and still isn't now! Canadian X Pro, I am your reckoning! And in my path of destruction something new and fresh will be born. I am here to liberate these Canadian wrestling fans!"

Madison stands and reaches to his camera. He powers it down send the feed to static and white snow.