The Sins of the Father
We open on the young HOW rookie, Crash Rodriguez, as he’s sitting atop of his familiar shed. His nose stuck in a book, as the scene begins to focus, the book is spotted to be his mother’s bible. His eyes darting about the pages that he flips between seemingly at random. A look of mixed determination and stress plaguing his face. Occasionally he brushes his hair back, as it continuously falls before his eyes, obscuring his view. He suddenly speaks, voice every wobbly, without breaking eye contact from the passages of the old Christian text.
Crash Rodriguez: “You shall not bow yourself down to them, nor serve them. For I the LORD your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the sons to the third and fourth generation of those that hate me, and showing mercy to thousands of those that love Me and keep My commandments.”
The book slaps shut, as the HOTV rookie, who was recently betrayed in the tag match at War Games stares longingly at the front of the book. His expression begins to lighten, his demeanor turning to one akin to an expert conman, confidence in every syllable that leaves his tongue.
Crash Rodriguez: “I find this quote to be oddly relevant to the recent developments of High Octane Wrestling. Our GOD, Lee Best, lost the War Games wager of 1%. Despite his claims of only wanting the best for HOW, it’d be foolish to believe he’s free of envy. Foolish to believe there’s no jealousy polluting the mind.”
Crash stands to his feet causing the rotting wood of the structure beneath him to creak and groan, as it strains to survive the young man’s weight paired with the cruelty of time. A hint of a smirk washes over the face of the self proclaimed “Crooked Man” as he shuts his eyes.
Crash Rodriguez: “While it treads closely to the outcome of the battle between Lee and his son, Mike, the quote speaks beyond that simple example. It seems the quote also speaks to me. To my quickly approaching challenge.”
Crash opens his eyes as he hops to the ground. He nearly falls to a knee, the pain from his recent match still eating at him, although he’s able to stabilize himself and stands tall. He cocks his head to the left, cracking his neck. He then does the same to the right.
Crash Rodriguez: “Soon I’ll be face to face with the “son of Max Kael”. Max Kael is the man who believes he has brought the future ruin of HOW and has decided to walk away, leaving behind an heir. MAXKAEL jr. I must admit not knowing much of the man. However, I truly believe in the sins are visited on the son. My father’s warped beliefs in this business has plagued my existence. Warped me. Changed me. TORTURE ME BEYOND ANY HOLY UNDERSTANDING. The same can be said for MAXKAEL jr. You’re “father’s” hatred for this company, his desire to end the company. Those sins shall fall upon you.”
The 21-year-old holds his mother’s bible, one of his few cherished possessions, up high. His hair falls over his face, flowing over like running rapids off a cliff. He walks forward, through a winding path of gravel, bits of stones being kicked around with each step he takes.
Crash Rodriguez: “Junior, at Refueled VIII, I’ll take you to hell. You’ll pay for the sins of Max Kael. This company, this industry is my life, and like the Death upon his pale horse, I will ride into battle just to tear you down. TO SMASH YOUR BONES TO DUST AND BRING YOU INTO THE TWISTED WORLD I LIVE, DAY IN DAY OUT! These aren’t threats. These aren’t just words. They are promises, predictions… They are prophecies.”
The grass blows in the wind, as sweat trickles down the young man’s face. The air is hot and humid. Surrounding trees rock lightly against the breeze. The young man’s chest heaves, his recent shouting taking the air from his lungs. His eyes dart around like a man possessed.
Crash Rodriguez: “Through hell and high water, I’ll bring order to an otherwise chaotic wasteland. I’ll make an example of this unlucky man to stand across from me in our upcoming match.”
The young man begins to laugh. It starts off with a small chuckle, before quickly becoming a hysterical fit. The young man grabs his hair pulling it, yanking out a chunk as he falls to his knees. As the laughter subsides he picks his head up, with his trademark crooked smile plastered across his face.
Crash Rodriguez: “There once was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile. He enjoyed his crooked acts, with his crooked smile.”
The scene fades out on the image of the Crooked Man shaking while trying to not cross the line into insanity.