A promo.

“Look, Dan. We’ve been around the block a few times, and I have a level of respect for you. Always have. So, in honour of that. I am going to be real with you. I have had a hell of a long weekend. The deadline is pretty close, and I have to record something, otherwise I get into a lot of trouble. Will it be my best work? Probably not, but we are going to try something here tonight.”
Danny takes a breath. Compared to recent shots, his surroundings look quite humble. A desk sits in the middle of the space, a laptop open on a riser in front of him. The wall behind him is fully covered by an asymmetric bookshelf, containing a wide array of genres. Some paper, some hardback. Some fiction, some not. Many looked old and well-thumbed; some were brand new and untouched, not a single crease adorning their spines. Various trinkets, trophies and oddities also took up space. In many of Danny’s previous scenes, we’ve seen his room of choice given a macabre or stately feeling, but this one was different. The room was filled with light, some from an overhead lamp, some from the windows situated on either side of the host. 

He sits behind the desk, elbow resting atop the wood, face buried into the palm of his hand. His dishevelled hair contributes greatly to the overall effect of exasperation. He continues, a low grumble resounding in his voice. 

“We are going to see how long and how effectively we are going to push this single take format. There’s no one here, no one behind the camera, no stage crew, no Claudia, just me.” 

With a rub of his temples, Danny finally straightens up and opens his eyes, looking right into the camera lens. His eyes, a radiant, sunlight emerald, look tired, the right one in particular still bearing the bloodshot scarring of a recent blow to the face. 

“Honestly, Dan, there are two reasons I want to do this. One is because I really, really cannot be arsed with this right now. I’m tired, I’m fed up, and I just simply don’t want this. The other is because I am sending a clear fucking message to the people who consider it a good idea to take the man responsible for one of, if not the greatest matches in CWF history, and get him to put his title on the line on day one against a man who lost at WrestleFest. I am daring them; I am daring the whole damn company. Let’s see how it goes.” 

Danny leans back in his chair, crossing his feet on the desk. 

“So, this is the shot. We’re going to sit here and have a conversation. I’ll try and buck a trend by being a little more succinct than normal. So, where do we start?” 

He rubs his face. 

“I think I will start with a confession. We’ve known each other a very long time, the best part of two decades. We must have crossed paths in the rings many times over that period. Yet, I struggle to remember any standout meetings between us. I imagine this won’t sit well with you, but it’s the truth. You’re a good guy, Dan; I have no issues with you as a person. Never have, but match wise? I can’t recall anything of any real note. Hell, you and Chris weren’t even important enough to me for me to finish our little tag match a few weeks back.”

He shakes his head, an almost sorrowful note crossing his worn features.

“Sorry about that, by the way, but you were just another roadblock laid in my path. I had more important things to worry about at the time.” 

The Ripper swings his feet from the table and pulls himself from the chair. He steps forward and steps out of the camera view. A moment later, he steps back in and sits back in his chair. He lifts the CWF World Championship up in front of him, showing the belt to the camera, before laying it across the desk. He takes a moment to appreciate it. A smile crosses his face, betraying his diminished demeanour. He quickly recovers as he looks up. 

“This Dan, this was more important. I refrained from talking about this until now, because the first words deserved to be for a CWF audience. It also gave me a chance to think about what I wanted to say. 

You know I have never had to address a CWF World Championship win? It’s been sixteen years. Sixteen goddam years, and this Infernalia will be the first time I have ever defended this championship, the first time I have ever even entered an arena with the championship around my waist. I fought against everything that they put in my way; I stormed every barricade, broke every challenger, sent handpicked champions packing. All I needed to do was prove that when the lights were brightest, I could deliver. My first-ever WrestleFest win was on the biggest possible stage, in the biggest match when it mattered most. 

That’s kind of what I do. I’m a big match player. I may not be perfect, but when it matters most, when it’s thrive or survive, that’s when the dark soul of Danny B burns brightest. I felt it inside that cage. So did you. All of you. I felt you with me. See, when all is said and done, people love to tell me they hate me; they love for me to be the bad guy, but no one brings the passion, fire, energy and drive that I do. No one. Not one fucking person. 

I need to go back to addressing my title defence in a minute, but before I do that, I have one more thing to say. Thank you. For those that stood by me, for those that for nearly twenty years held me up and told me that I deserved everything that I earned, thank you. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.”

He pats the title belt before lifting it up and draping it over his left shoulder. He leans back again, absentmindedly stroking the belt as he talked. 

“We do have a different history, though, don’t we, Dan. I may not have any actual memories of our time as competitors, but our business relationship was very different, wasn’t it? For the uninformed out there, I once owned my own company, CWR. I had delusions of grandeur, thinking I could make something big, bigger than CWF, bigger than GWR, bigger than OCW. I was wrong of course, and we flamed out as so many others do. Quick enough, in fact, that we only had time for two world champions. Both, of course, are very well known to our CWF audience. The first of which was you, wasn’t it, Dan? 

I put my faith in you to lead the company, to be our face. You were perfect. You had charisma, you had talent, a look that worked with the crowd. A veteran but a man with something still to prove, the perfect champion. You racked up a few wins against names that have since died in obscurity, and then the time came to pit you against a real challenger. My favourite fucktard, Amber fucking Ryan. What a program it was. Two stalwarts, known around the world. The two people who I thought could lead the next generation.

She was your first real challenge, a chance to cement your legacy, and Dan, you lost. Happens to the best of us. So, a big loss, title gone, you picked yourself up, dusted yourself off and got back in the fight right? Right?”

Danny’s eyes hardened as he recalled the memory. 

“No. You didn’t. You bailed. You walked away from everything, and you have never recovered. Here we are, a decade later, and you haven’t changed one bit. You’re still the same: same character, same personality, same level. You went from being Rish’s choice for a solid undercard hand to my world champion to Rish Jr.’s solid undercard hand. Great career trajectory there, Dan.”

Danny looked down at his championship one more time, really taking it in. 

“This is mine. This is mine until I decide I am done with it. I worked too damn hard, fought too damn hard to give it up to someone who can’t be bothered to be better. Can I ask you a question? Do you think you have earned this match? In your mind, are you being rewarded for your most recent Paramount Title reign? A good-on-you, son opportunity? Do you really believe in your heart you have been given another opportunity at something you could never earn? I have theories as to why you have been given this match, but I don’t want to get into the tin foil hat shit here today. Frankly, I want to wrap this up and move on to do something interesting. 

Whatever way you look at it, you have been sent to test me. That’s your role. No one in the back actually believes you can beat me; you are to show up, put on a good show and go home in defeat, allowing me to look good before they feed me to the person that they want to beat me. Of course, that’s a mistake. I already ran that gauntlet and beat it, which is why I have this thing on my shoulder. I don’t care who they throw at me. 

You’re the first Dan, and I want to make you a promise. I will make sure that no matter what happens, this match will be memorable. For me, for you, for everyone in the arena, for every fan in the world. Either the CWF fans will finally, after all this time, see the man who I knew could be a world champion, or the more likely scenario is that you will walk into an opportunity without the capacity to take advantage of it, and I will snuff out that opportunity.”

ONCE AND FOR ALL.

Danny shakes his head loose, seemingly clearing his mind. 

“I said at the start that I couldn’t be arsed to come up with anything interesting for you, Dan. I have now explained why. The question is, are you going to be insulted by my indifference, or are you going to light a fire under that ass of yours and hit me with everything you have? This is the biggest opportunity of your life. Not only for this thing on my shoulder, but because of the man holding it. Beat me, and you are made for life. Lose, and you’re just a number.

Whatever the case, I’ll be waiting.” 

Danny stands and walks, making sure that the last shot is of his world championship.