Gwen Stacy! But Not Sally Talfourd.

[Evan De Parker]

"...My mind is tellin' me no,

But my body...

My body's telling me yessss!
...I don't want to hurt nobody
But there is something that I must confess..."

We abruptly blink into the dimly lit scene, brought to us by Evan Envi. In place of lamps or overhead lighting, Evan chooses to light the room with naked flames.

Six or sven tall candles are visible to the camera, all of them dripping a red wax which seems to harden right before it reaches the bottom each and every time. They cast an orange glow over the already beiged skin of Envi, who is dressed in a plaid robe, his figure kissed by the shadows. We can only see elements of his face, and his arms, though we can be certain that it's him.

There is a glass in front of him-- a stemless goblet. Its contents are a caramel color, and if you were to sit next to Envi on this particular evening, you would smell the bourbon.

"I've been thinking... You know, really giving some thought to this situation I'm in this Monday night on Meltdown. And it's a dark one indeed, my friends. Because a week before I conquer the 'Lone Star' and get my North American title at Mayhem... I have to compete in a triple threat match against--"

Evan sighs and his hand shoots outward abruptly. In one swift motion, he retrieves the miniature goblet and takes a rather large sip of the concoction. Again, if your coordinates were positioned just south of Evan Envi's couch, you might smell the hint of bourbon, but even then the drink would be a mystery.

"I have to compete in a triple threat match against Angelina Quinn and Torrie Leigh. And I know what you're thinking that I'm thinking, you rascals... And shame on you for not having any faith in me."

Evan rolls his eyes and takes another sip, his eyes drifting toward the camera for the first time as he lowers his glass.

"The answer is Torrie Leigh. I have taste, you know.

"I mean, Quinn's got the cute, girl-next-door, Gwen Stacy kinda thing goin' on... But Torrie's a whole different kind of woman. And she knows that. You look at her, and whether you're a straight dude, gay guy, butch lesbian wrestling fan-- you're enticed by her. And that's exactly how she wants it."

Evan springs to his feet, making a beeline for the wall. In the darkness, we could mistake him for power-walking toward a random spot, but he stops a few feet left of the doorway and flicks on a lightswitch, turning on two lamps located across from each other in the living room. Decidedly, Evan has brought an end to his thinking time.

"And I know that I'm a dude wrestling in there with two chicks. I know how many guys go out there and tell those girls that they should lay down, or sometimes they even make the mistake of trying to take it easy on them at first.

"Sometimes they even try to back out of the match altogether. And those are the guys that end up looking like idiots... Look at Team Terriffic. Look at Bulk Rogaine. Look at 'ya boy' Benny Horrowitz. I've seen some women go in that ring in the past... They've gone toe to toe with the best. And I will say that they were a hell of a lot more experienced and well-versed than the two ladies I'm dancing with on Monday.

"But Angelina Quinn? She's the one I need to look out for. I did some research on her and I saw that she's actually got some meat behind those punches of hers.

"Angelina, you trained in a fight club against guys. You know what it's like to get smacked around a bit, or maybe clubbed across the mouth once or twice, right? So what happens to you on Monday should almost come naturally, and it won't be much of a shock.

"And I feel like I'm going to enjoy competing against you on Monday, Quinn, because I don't have to feel bad about it. Because you're probably gonna like it when I hit you. When I wrestle you to the mat. When I throw you out of the ring."

Evan's voice drops a bit as he looks into the lens, as if they were Angelina Quinn's very own eyes, staring back at him in the form of a camera.

"You couldn't even bear to fight girls because it didn't give you the same rush you get when you're submitting to basic human instinct, rolling around with a man-- playing a little rough. And eventually, you even started holding your own against the guys. And that's where ya scare me, Quinn. I don't like thinking that the pretty girl-next-door is going to punch me in the face if I make a move. And considering the circumstances... I feel like that's likely.

"So I'm gonna have to eliminate you from the equation before that's possible, Quinn. You're a liability and I have a reputation to uphold, okay? I'm competing for the NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP! ...And that's something you just wouldn't understand. I feel that you're gonna be the one that really fucks this up for me."

Evan gives the camera a long, cold stare that lacks any sort of humor or joy. The room, albeit empty, grows tense in this fashion.

He moves away from the light switch, where he stood for upwards of two minutes, his eyes finally drifting away from the camera and moving around the room in thoughtful fashion. He pauses in front of his rocking chair and his expression hardens… Envi could be wearing this face for a variety of reasons. For example, this expression found a nice home for itself on Evan’s face during his freshman and sophomore years in high school, for many chess tournaments. As early as in elementary school, Evan would wear this face while playing Scrabble and being unable to create a word.

This rare gem indicates that Evan Envi is stumped.

"Torrie, what exactly have you done before showing up here?

“You were born into money, did nothing to capitalize on it, and decided you'd worm your way into America's premier wrestling company... Part of me respects the hell out of that, but a larger part of me thinks you're one of the biggest examples of a cancer in professional wrestling and-- sexy as all hell though you may be-- I will take pleasure in removing you and putting Action Packed Wrestling through remission.

“Torrie Leigh, it’s carcinogens like you that provoke modern society to look at MY profession and call the whole thing a joke. Because of you, when I go to Baltimore for family dinner every other Sunday and we all talk about our careers, I have to bite my tongue for a minute while my father rolls her eyes and my mother and oldest brother give each other these worried glances, like I’m some child that’s playing too close to the edge of the steps. It’s because bitches like you get in MY ring and you have no clue what you’re doing! You hurt yourself, and everybody you come in contact with, and in reality you should quit while you’re behind, save yourself the bruises and permanent scarring, and get back in the modeling business.

“And that’s not because you’re a woman, babe. I would say the same thing to you if you actually possessed a Y-chromosome, which you don’t, so I understand that your decision to sign this APW contract was probably emotionally-charged and spontaneous. Your victories thus far have meant nothing, because you hold them over people that are as dense and shallow as you in that ring. Your victories are over freaks that were unprepared to go that extra step to get the W. For now, your victories are over men that have temporarily, or permanently hit their ceilings in this business.

“That feeling on the back of your neck? That little jumping sensation in your stomach? That’s you trying not to shit yourself because of the amount of truth that’s integrating its way into your life.

“And I don’t even think you know what ‘integrate’ means.”

Evan offers a half-smile to the camera. He finally sinks down into the rocking chair and his muscles relax.

”But, I’ll give you some credit, Torrie. I’ve seen people come into this business with absolutely little to no experience at all and find themselves holding titles by the end of the year. I have seen miracles happen…

“However, that won’t be happening on Monday Night Meltdown. No, no; not when I have so much on the line in just a week, and if you were banking on me getting distracted and blowing this triple threat match…”

Evan shrugs.

”Benny Horrowitz was counting on that last week. Look what happened to him. Look what happened to his face. And he’s just one guy. Just chew on that for the next day.”

The near-silence is broken as the sound of a door closing pierces throughout the house. Envi arches an eyebrow and looks somewhere out of frame for a moment. He looks somewhat relieved when a shadow passes over the chair and a female moves past the camera and to the couch adjacent to Evan. The light brown hair and the “American Wrestling Alliance” t-shirt give away Sienna Harrison, Evan’s older sister.

She briefly glances at the camera, though her expression doesn’t seem to change too much as it turns to Evan. She is holding several envelopes in her hand, bouncing them on her leg as she waits for him to speak. Evan looks content in his newfound silence however.

”Am I interrupting something?”

She doesn’t wait for Evan to respond, but throws most of the envelopes onto his lap. Evan looks at them curiously for a second, but his amused and slightly annoyed stare travels back to Sienna Harrison before long. She meets his gaze this time with the same indifferent one was before.

”Hey, you knew when I was coming over so we could go to the airport. So don’t give me the stink-eye, little brother. Give it to the mirror and let’s be on our way.”

”We have two hours before we need to get to the airport… May I please finish verbally back-handing my opponents?”

”Hmmm, you’re fighting girls this week aren’t you? How do you feel about that? How’s mom feel about it?”

”I mean, I knew what was expected when I came in here. And mother knows that I don’t punch ladies. I might slap one, but I won’t lay knuckles on a lady’s face. Scout’s honor.”

”Did you call mom?”

”I did. I’m the best son ever, obviously.”

”Who are they? Torrie Leigh and…?”

”Angelina Quinn.”

”I like her! She gives me a Gwen Stacy-kinda vibe.”

”RIGHT?”

”I don’t know why that is though. I don’t think Gwen Stacy was ever a part of a fight club… She might hit you, you know. Really hard. She might go Mike Tyson’s Punchout all up and down your face.”

”In the event that she punches me in the face, Sienna, I’m gonna grab her arms and drop her with The Blues so fast that it’ll look like the whole thing was on purpose.”

”In the meantime you can hit Leigh with a chair.”

The rapid back-and-forth conversation ceases here. Evan gives Sienna a bitter grin as she says this, but Sienna gives her little brother an exaggerated smile, feigning innocence.

”Am I supposed to feel bad about leveling a guy with a chair last Monday?”

”Two guys, actually. And I’m not saying that you should feel bad, necessarily… But I am saying that you ought to watch your back. You’re already in a triple threat match and we both know that you probably haven’t been in one in over a year. You get so caught up on one opponent that it’s really easy to forget that there’s someone else running around, waiting to catch you in a moment of vulnerability…

“And then you have Jake Venom, if he’s even walking at this point, looking for revenge. You have Benny, who might feel that you screwed him out of a match last week. And you have Sam--!”

”Sammy didn’t show his face last week until my back was turned, and I don’t see this week being too much different. With Angelina and Torrie in the ring, I’m already gonna be looking in every corner every chance I get. I’m always two steps ahead, Sienna, and I’m not letting myself lose this match because I made the same mistake I made two weeks ago… Not keeping my eye on the ball. If any of those guys come to the ring during my match and try to get involved, then they’re more than welcome to try. I take on all challengers, all day.”

Sienna smirks a bit and rolls her eyes.

”Alright, sir. You keep on extending those invitations and I’ll be your loving, caring sister and listen to ya when you complain about it biting you on your ass.”

Sienna’s vivacious wink meets Evan’s distant stare and she jumps up to her feet.

”I’m gonna go finish packing up.”

With that, Sienna moves past Evan humming an indistinguishable tune under her breath, half-walking, half-skipping toward the spiral staircase. Evan’s eyes follow her until they can’t anymore-- and then he abruptly closes them, jerking a bit. He moves a hand to his heart and sits in troubled silence for a few seconds before… Slowly lowering his hands to his sides.

He opens his eyes and gives the camera another thoughtful look, but without the same humor and mock-warmth that was present before. Even his skin seems to have grown about three shades more pale. He takes a deep breath and continues to address his opponents for Meltdown as if Sienna hadn’t even come into the room just a few minutes prior.

”Angelina Quinn. Something that I happened to recall is actually something that you said shortly before the first episode of Meltdown… About being compared to Sally Talfourd. You said that you wanted to be better and shatter her records. And this is where we find ourselves in a similar boat. I’ve heard people compare me to other MegaStars in APW and I’m not going to name them here because they’re not important to me. What’s important is that the world knows my name and I know that I’m the best.

“But you? I wonder if it gets to you, knowing that no matter what you do, you’re going to be compared to somebody else because they came along and did it first. And to be honest, I really think it does… I know you understand the gravity of this match moreso than Leigh because you actually have something to lose from this: credibility. After your blog tirade about being in a match against Mister Dangerous last week-- someone you clearly think you’re above-- it wouldn’t look too good for you to take the fall in your first main event match, would it?

“In fact, what am I saying? Of course it gets to you because you haven’t said a damn word since you saw what you had to do this week. You bitched and moaned about not getting the respect you deserved and not being placed where you think you should be on the card. And here we are. You have the opportunity to win this match and throw yourself at the front of the line for a North American Title match… But you won’t.”

Evan laughs, which seems out of place considering his attitude up to this point. He reaches for his glass, his entire body shaking with laughter. He lifts the stemless goblet to his lips and shakes his head, looking into the camera behind half-lidded eyes while he drinks.

”And that’s why you’re no Sally Talfourd. Angelina… You’re no Sally Talfourd.

“Does that hurt? Does that get you hot under your shirt, Angelina, because you know I’m right? Did you honestly think that spending a few years fighting meatheads with no sense of ring psychology was going to prepare you for APW?

“No. I’m going to prepare you for APW. You want to be the best, and I wanna see you make it, Angel, truly. But the problem with that is… I wanna be the best.”

Evan rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair again. He fiddles somewhere along the polished-wood top of the end-table, searching for something and quickly finds it: a remote. He points it off somewhere in the distance, and we hear a click before sultry jazz music pours from the speakers adjusted in surround-sound. Evan lowers the remote back onto the end-table and turns to the camera for the final time of the evening.

”I’m going to beat you, Quinn. There’s no way around that. Whether it’s through you, or through Torrie Leigh, I’m going to make an emphatic statement on Monday. I will ride a monstrous wave of momentum right through Mayhem, and it’ll be painfully obvious why I’m the best.

“The best, guys. It’s not a gimmick.”

With that, Evan casts the camera a devious grin and pushes himself up out of the rocking chair, making his way toward the spiraling staircase, eventually drifting from view entirely. We are still left with the image of the chair, still rocking from Evan’s weight as Frank Sinatra rolls in through surround sound.

”The best is yet to come, and babe won't it be fine
The best is yet to come, come the day that you're mine

Come the day you're mine
And you're gonna be mine…”