Make Way, There's a Bad Guy Coming Through

[Michael Salieri]

"My name, is my name..."
- Michael -

Thursday 10:21 PM [August 16th, 2012]
New York, New York

Darkness consumes the street corners as the lights deep in the heart of the city illuminate sky. Tonight we find ourselves outside of local gentlemens club; "Fillie's". Business appears to be as usual, judging from the parking lot, we have a full house. Thursday nights are always full of life as things get warmed up for the upcoming weekend. Who doesn't like supporting single mothers one dollar at a time?

Inside, the stage is set as the dancers work to earn their living. It isn't an easy job but someone has to do it. Across the room, by the bar, a familiar face sits with a drink in his hand as he observes all the talent. We haven't seen this face in quite a few years. We haven't seen Michael Salieri since 2007. In his back ear the bartender carries on a conversation as he listens, slowly bobbing his head with the music in the background.

"I heard you're climbing back into the rasslin' ring?"

"You heard right" Michael responds as he takes a slow drink from his glass turning his attention back towards the bartender.

Pouring a slightly weaker drink for a customer at the other end of the bar, a smile cracks across the bartenders face. He chuckles to himself for a brief moment as he draws Michael's attention.

Slowly raising one eyebrow, Michael clears his throat and cracks his neck to the side. "Something amuse you?"

"Oh no" the bartender replies as he straightens his face.

"What's so fucking funny, then?"

Quickly, the bartender slides the drink down the bar and signals for one of the waitresses to add it to his tab. Looking hesitant to respond, he grabs a bottle of Crown and a glass. "Here, have a drink on me. I didn't mean to offend you Michael."

Michael finishes his drink and thinks to himself for a minute. The bartender drops a couple pieces of ice in the glass and then pours the whiskey over them. Michael just stares up at him waiting, waiting for something but it's not apparent to the bartender.

"I just don't picture you as a wrestler."

"Well, I'm not your typical wrestler. The business has always been in my family. I gave it a little run a few years back but became too overwhelmed with business here. I've lost some weight and body mass since then. I can still knock anyone who stands in front of me the fuck out. I mean, what, what do you picture a wrestler to look like?"

"I mean no disrespect Michael, don't take it the wrong way. Your uncle used to come by here alot with that muscle head of his, Plex. I've just always pictured wrestlers as dumb juice heads."

"Heh... Plex is a joke. The game has changed a lot since he stepped in that ring. Hell, it's changed a lot since my uncle had a stake in the business. My uncle took me under his wing and brought me into this sport. He's stuck in the past, old school ways of wrestling. Both him and Plex would never survive in this cut throat business of the present."

"What makes it so different for you?"

Michael goes silent for a brief moment as he grabs his new drink and takes a stout swig. As it settles on his stomach, he looks up at the bartender who stares back waiting for a response.

"I'm hungry for competition. I thrive to compete to be the best. I know enough about this sport to use it to my advantage. I may not have the time put in like a lot of folks out there still in the mix but I can hold my own. I've managed to cut back a little weight and reach the peak condition of health that I have ever seen in my lifetime. I'm a machine. I can handle myself on the streets with ease, go ask anyone out there. Now I need to prove that I can handle myself in the ring and be the baddest mother fucker out there."

"To asnwer your question, I guess you could say that I'm better built for this day and age. But then again, I've been wrong before. I guess this is a gamble that we'll both have to wait for the outcome."

"I never knew you to be a wrestler, Michael. I know you have your business here in town but never knew about you in the ring."

"It didn't last long. You remember that promotion my uncle ran, TcW?"

"Yea, I know it."

"I came there under his supervision. I had always been able to handle myself, it was just a perfect fit. You know my uncle though, everything has to be his way."

"I know Mr. Sal..."

"Well, a couple months after debuting, my uncle closed the doors. It was the same time my father passed. A little ways down the road, my uncle decided to be my manager so we headed to RWF. Things got heated, as they always do when my uncle doesn't like someone. One thing after the other, we found ourselves in a new up and coming promotion, AW:X."

"Never heard of it..."

"You never will. It's out of commission. If the same guy ran the place it could still have had a chance but when things get handed to jerk offs, those things usually fold. I learned a lesson from that whole situation. You never put a business in the hands of a two bit porn director who flakes in the blink of an eye."

"I heard that. So... where exactly are you headed?"

"Action Packed Wrestling."

"Can't say that I'm familiar with the place. Wrestling has went downhill from where it used to be. I hardly keep up with these new places anymore."

"It's a solid place. I've had my eye on it for a while now, just finally pulling the trigger. I know a few faces there but the rest, will meet my wrath face to face. I'm starting out on their show for newcomers, Meltdown. It won't be long before I rip through the competition and find myself on either Overdrive or Asylum."

"Who are you up against?"

Michael shakes his glass slightly before taking another drink. Silence fills the air for a brief moment, the stage is empty as dancer switch. Just as the music begins to beat again, Michael looks up at the bartender without a single emotion on his face.

"I honestly have no idea. I just got signed a few days ago, I'll worry with small things after I walk through the door and make a name for myself. Right now, it doesn't matter if you put me in the ring with the best athlete on the planet, I'm going to win. APW hasn't seen me in action and I need to make an impact upon arrival. I refuse to lose, especially against three nobodies."

"It would be wise to do a little more research on your opponents."

As his eyebrows slowly rise, Michael turns around only to find his uncle standing behind him. This is a face we've all seen before. Tony Salieri looks at Michael with a smile on his face. The bartender stands in silence just before Tony looks at him and signals for a drink. Without hesitation, he grabs a glass and pulls out a bottle of scotch from under the bar. Filling it half way up he drops two pieces of ice in it and sets it in front of the empty barstool beside Michael. He then grabs another glass and drops a few pieces of ice in it and pours Michael another glass of whiskey.

"Jimmy, give us a few moments if you will."

The bartender, Jimmy, walks to the other side of the bar as Tony sits in the empty barstool and takes a drink from his glass.

"Uncle Tony, I thought you were out of town on business?"

"I was, but now I'm back. A little birdie told me that you were getting back in the wrestling ring. So now, I'm here."

"What does it matter to you? I'm doing this for me."

"I made a promise to your father before he passed. I'm just keeping an eye on you, that's all."

"I understand. You've been a great help since he passed Uncle T, don't get me wrong. I just need to do something for myself."

"I get that. Do your thing in APW, I'll look over your dealings here."

"I have it covered. I've already sat down with my guys and talked this whole thing over. They know what to do. I appreciate the offer, but I can handle myself. I'll be flying back here between shows to handle business and train for upcoming matches."

"You need a manager of some sorts. It's going to be tough for you to worry about handling yourself in the ring, handling yourself in the streets and training constantly to be the best. Do your thing. Don't say I didn't warn you though."

"I appreciate the input Uncle T. I'm ready to make this move on my own. I'm gracious for everything you've done for me and I will never be able to thank you enough. I just need to do this on my own to make a name for myself, and not just be known for the name you've made for this family."

Tony laughs quietly for a brief moment. Michael looks on as he waits for the next words to slip off the end of his uncles tongue.

"A name for yourself? What is a name, son? I'm not known for my name. I'm known for the things I've done in my lifetime. I'm known for the things I've done in this business. I'm known for the things I've done in the wrestling business. I'm known by numerous names by my allies and my enemies. It's not my name that sets me apart from the others. It's my reputation that strikes the fear in heartless men. It's my experience that influences the business today. Salieri means jack shit to anyone that matters. A name is a name, but a legacy is forever."

Michael takes a big drink from his glass and lets Tony's words sink in. He then takes another drink just before replying.

"I want people to quiver when they hear my name Uncle T. I want people running to their homes, slamming their doors and locking their locks when they hear that I'm coming for them. My name is my name! I can handle myself on the streets and in the ring. I've got shit lined up all around town. I aim to run the wrestling game in APW. All I have in this world is my name and I have to make one for myself that isn't overshadowed by the one you made for yourself. My name, is my name."

"I want nothing but success for you Michael. I know how cruel this sport can be. I've been in the game for long enough to know how it plays in the end. I know you want to make a name for yourself but remember this. Family aside, you still work for me. I'll have my eye on your business back here while your away and if it slips, I can promise you that I will put someone in charge that can keep it running smoothly. I'll have an ear or two out for you on the road as well. I understand that you want to make a name for yourself but I can't have you tarnish mine if things don't go according to plan. A name is a name, but a reputation makes the name."

Michael quickly finishes his drink as he gulps it down. He then slams the empty glass on the bar and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. He pulls a hundred out and tosses it onto the table as he stands to his feet looking his uncle dead in the eye.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need your charity and insight on the wrestling business. Just be sure you watch my match. If that doesn't prove anything to you then I don't know what will. Don't worry about business here either, you'll still get your share as always, on time and before anyone else kicks you theirs. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack. I have an early flight tomorrow morning."

Tony looks shocked for a brief moment just before replying. "Have a seat Michael, I didn't mean to come across so harsh."

Michael turns his back to his uncle as he walks away towards the entrance of the gentlemens club. Tony watches as he drinks his drink slowly, waiting for Michael to stop and come back. As he approaches the entrance, Michael stops and looks back at his uncle. He balls up his right fist and then taps the left side of his chest with it and then turns his back once more and vanishes through the entrance doors. Tony continues to sit there thinking to himself and drinking his glass of scotch as the scene fades to black.

//::EPILOGUE::\\

"A meltdown can be described as a breakdown of self-control. Me, I never have that problem. I'm always in control whenever involved. Whether he likes it or not, I'm going to become my own man and run things in Action Packed Wrestling. I've been out of the sport for about five years now and smaller than what anyone would remember me as. Although I haven't stepped in the ring during this time, I've been in and out of the gym becoming the machine that presents itself to you today. Match related or not, this goes for everyone and anyone who just so happens to be listening. The Italian Monster has returned and is on the rampage. Get in my way if you dare but you better be prepared to get ran through. I'm going to bring true meltdown to APW."

"I've always been able to handle myself against more than one opponent at a time. There is no such thing as a fair fight on the streets, so why should there be one in the ring? Hell, I've taken on more pigs at the same time and walked away on my own two feet. This will be a breeze. Mr. Dangerous, Prodigy and Pennington are in for a world of hurt. I'm only making a quick stop in Meltdown before continuing on this journey to the top of APW. I want everyone to watch as I unleash the fury of the Italian Monster. No one is safe, not even the fans. When it's time to go to work there's only one thing on my mind; get the job done at any means necessary. I've been fucking the world and I haven't came yet. Bones will be broken, blood will be shed and pride will be demolished."

"Get to the point."

"I've been working on this comeback for quite some time now. I understand that you, Mr. Dangerous, have quite a reputation for yourself as a rookie smasher. Heh, I guess it's a start. It seems that some people here respect you based off what I'm hearing. I do not. I look at you and all I see is another name for me to destroy on my climb to the top. Sorry to be so blunt, that's just the way it is. After I'm through tossing you around the ring like a ragdoll, maybe then you can go back to smashing rookies. It's not happening Monday night, I can promise you that."

"It's a hard knock life, for you? Vincent, I'm from the school of hard knocks. I grew up fighting on the street. I've hurt many men. I've done some dirt in this lifetime. What have you done? What is it that makes you so hard? I guarantee you've never looked death in the eye with a smile of your face. I've been down that road, a time or two. What I hate more than anything else is someone pretending to be something they're not. I look at you and I see a scared, little boy behind that muscle. You have no idea what you're stepping in the ring against and it eats away at your nevers continuously. It will be over soon enough. The wounds will heal. If you're lucky, you won't have to step in the ring with me again."

"Last but not least, Prodigy. Oh, don't think for one second that I've forgotten about you. I've done a little homework on you friend. Still, that doesn't say much. I haven't heard of you on the streets around town. I'm always out there and I hear a lot of things but not once has your name popped up. Where are you hiding? There's only room in that ring for one of us to represent New York. I am New York! Go outside and bring my name up, I guarantee you that people know just who the fuck I am. Do they know you? No. You're a ghost in New York. New York is my town and it's time to show you the door. Get the fuck out of here! I can sympathize with you wanting to carry on a family tradition. You're just going to have to do it another time, from another city."

"I'm going to own each and every one of you stupid fucks. I didn't get to be known as the Italian Monster by playing fair and nice. I play dirty and don't give two fucks if you like me or not. This is a hostile takeover and you three just happen to be the first victims."