A happy accident.

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FEBRUARY 28, 2008
TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA
THE RAVEN FAMILY HOME

Jonathan Raven was known to be a severe man. The creases in his face were deep, his skin weathered and rugged with the slightest of stubbles rising up on his chin. His hair is salt and peppered, cut short and sweeping across his head in a perfect wave as he stares at his son with intensely blue eyes... with intensely cold and unforgiving eyes.

JAMES
Say something, dad.

Jonathan Raven does not fulfill his sons request. He continues to stare, studying his middle childs face carefully. James begins to squirm uneasily, the back of his neck growing hot as the room begins to close in around him. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt, running his hands through his hair and looking around the room for someone (anyone) that can help him ease the tension in the room.

There's nobody.

Just the two of them.

Jonathan carefully unbuttons the cuffs of his oxford shirt and pushes them up to his elbows, never breaking eye contact with his son. He toys with the fastener of his watch, eventually clicking it open with his fingertip and sliding it slowly over his hand. He sets the watch down on a dresser top with a gentle thud, and James swallows nervously.

JAMES
Dad, please say so-

JONATHAN
I'll tell you when I'm ready to say something. Until then, you shut the fuck up. Understood?

The silence in the bedroom is deafening. James turns himself defensively, shifting his body ever so slightly away from his father and towards the wall. He looks away, staring a hole in the carpeting as his father takes a step towards him. His heart beats faster, his breath shallow as he tries not to tremble.

JONATHAN
Is that understood, James?

James hears a soft jingle. It's familiar. A second later he hears the "fwiiiip!" of a leather belt being pulled through pant loops, and his head snaps around to his father just as Jonathan lifts his arm and brings it flying forwards.

CRRR-AAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAA-ACKKKKKKK!!!

The leather tears into his flesh, digging deep into his thigh through his basketball shorts. Jonathan cocks his arm back and lets another whip fly with technique Indiana Jones would be proud of. James tries to move, but he's in shock. The first strike brought a pain so intense he became instantly nauseous, the room spinning around him as he tried desperately to hold himself together.

CRR-AAAAAA-AAAAAA-ACKKKKK!!!

The second strike drops him to the floor.

JONATHAN
How long have you known, James?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?!

CRR-AAAAAA-AAAAAA-ACKKKKK!!!

JONATHAN
How long have you lied to my face? Kept secrets from me under my own fucking roof! HOW FUCKING LONG?!

CRR-AAAAAA-AAAAAA-ACKKKKK!!!

James writhes on the floor, primal screams of agony ripping through his vocal chords and echoing around the room. He doesn't recognize them as being his own voice. The belt digs into his ribs as he lays on the floor, and his back as he rolls into a fetal position and tries to cover the back of his head and neck. The leather shreds his body, but as he convulses at his fathers feet it loses its sting.

He goes numb.

His mind goes blank.

The room goes dark.

...

...

...

TJ
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!

The sounds of a scuffle. James struggles to open his eyes, his vision swimming before him as his older brother storms the room and grabs Jonathans wrist. The belt falls to the ground, bouncing quietly off the carpeting in front of James' face. He's completely unaware of it. He's unaware of everything; who he is, where he is, what's happening around him. He can only focus on one thing; TJ.

His brother stands over him like an action hero, his long hair hanging around his face as he snarls at Jonathan, one hand wrapped around his fathers wrist and the other around his throat as he drives Jonathan across the room and shoves him up against the wall. James' eyes flutter.

TJ. His brother. His savior.

His eyes close.

Jonathan swipes at his throat with his free hand, breaking TJ's grip and placing a palm in his chest to shove him away, wrenching his other hand free. He's significantly older than his two sons, and the smart money would be on them being stronger... but fear is a powerful weakness to the boys. They've never laid their hands on him before, that street only runs one way in this household.

JONATHAN
Get your hands off me, you fucking goon! How fucking long has this been going on?! HOW FUCKING LONG?!

TJ
What are you talking ab-

JONATHAN
Don't you dare play stupid with me, Tyler! I swear to GOD you will fucking regret it! How. Long?

Jonathan practically hisses the last two words at TJ, his previously icy eyes now blazing with fury as he stares at his eldest child as if he were staring Judas himself in the face. TJ takes a deep breath, glancing at his younger brother on the floor in the corner. His mind races through the possibilities, but to his fortune his fathers patience runs out quickly.

JONATHAN
The X... W... F. How long, TJ? How long have you worked for them?

TJ's face falls almost instantly. The color drains from his face, giving Jonathan all of the confirmation he needed. He lunges forward, an open palm striking TJ across the face and sending him stumbling backwards. He barely has time to recover as Jonathan leaps ahead and slaps him again, his face turning beet red as he nearly foams at the mouth.

JONATHAN
Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to be asked about you in surgery, today? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the other doctors talk about my barbarian of a son and not even know about it?! This family is better than wrestling, TJ! YOU are better than wrestling!

TJ is quiet. He can tell that they've reached a line, and once it's crossed there's no going back. Fuck it.

TJ
You don't know shit about me, dad. You don't know shit about any of us. You're too obsessed with yourself, and that's fine. That's your choice. It's not mine, though. I'm not looking to spend my life trying to become your fucking mini me. I'm a champion in the XWF, dad.

JONATHAN
I don't give a shit about your championships! I give a shit about all the tuition I've paid for you to piss it away so that you can run around in face paint and fucking tights! You can be a doctor, Tyler!

TJ
I DON'T WANT TO BE A FUCKING DOCTOR! That's the whole god damned point! I like this, dad, and I'm fucking good at it. I'm not going to stop. You can disown me, you can try and kick the shit out of me, you can do whatever the fuck you want to do... but I'm done. I'm done with school, I'm done with you, I'm done with all of it. I'm leaving.

The two stand face to face, a quiet overtaking the room after the explosive back and forth. Jonathan stares at his first born, turning over his words carefully in his head. TJ doesn't move. He barely breathes. He glances back at James, still laying on the floor and stirring ever so slightly. He turns back to his father. Jonathan raises an eyebrow, inquisitively.

JONATHAN
You're "done"? You're "leaving"?

TJ
You know I can't stay here, not if I'm going to follow through with the XWF... and I am. I've been there for a few months, dad, and I'm telling you I'm good. I can make it to the top of the company, maybe the whole industry. I'm getting myself an apartment in Buffalo. It's cheap, it's American based which will help for work... I'll barely be there anyways, once they call me up to the main roster I'll be on the road constantly.

JONATHAN
What about the money and resources I've invested in you, Tyler? We're respected in this city, known throughout Canada and you want to become some fucking street thug?

The disappointment is clear in TJ's eyes, an invisible dagger plunged into his gut and twisted.

TJ
I didn't realize I was an investment to you. I thought you were doing it because I was your son. I'll tell you what, when I win the XWF Universal title I'll send you a check.

JONATHAN
What about something that can't be measured in zeroes and commas? What about this families legacy?

TJ
I'm still building it. I'm just doing it my way.

Jonathan scoffs, and spits on the carpet at TJ's feet.

TJ
Your way... keep it. I don't want to have to scrub the tarnish off the Raven name when you're finished.

TJ stares at the wet spot on the floor, a deep sadness overtaking him as he lifts his eyes to his fathers. He tries to remember the good times. The love and the compassion. He tries to remember a single time he and his father got along instead of coexisted.

Nothing.

TJ
Good bye, dad. The Turning Point pay per view is this weekend, I'm going to be there. Order it, give it a watch. It's the only way you're going to see me again.

TJ steps away from his father and makes his way to the bedroom door, ready to leave it all behind when he stops suddenly and turns around.

TJ
I hope you figure yourself out, dad. I hope you find some way to be happy someday. Not because I give a shit about your joy, but because I feel bad for mom... you're the worst thing that ever happened to her.

It's a haymaker. It hits Jonathan like nothing he's ever been hit with. he feels a fire in his belly, the bile rising in the back of his throat as his vision turns red. Son or no son, Jonathan would kill anybody that spoke to him that way. TJ can see immediately what he's done, and before he can decide whether or not it was worth it his father is on top of him, hands wrapped tight around his neck. He tries to push Jonathan away, but he's quick for a 46 year old man. He drops his level and tackles TJ to the floor, posturing up to his knees and cocking a fist back and hammering the cheekbone of his son. He winds up again and slams his fist into TJ's nose, unleashing a torrent of blood down his face.

He winds up a third time.

CRRR-AAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAA-ACKKKKKKK!!!

His back arches and he rolls off of TJ, groaning loudly. TJ watches from his own vantage point on the ground as James stands over their father, the leather belt coiled tightly around his fist and dangling to the floor. He's dazed. He's hurting. He's going to save his brother though, if it's the last thing he does. He owes him.

CRR-AAAAAA-AAAAAA-ACKKKKK!!!
CRR-AAAAAA-AAAAAA-ACKKKKK!!!
CRR-AAAAAA-AAAAAA-ACKKKKK!!!

He beats Jonathan with the leather strap, viciously, until TJ is able to roll to his feet and grab James by the shoulders. He drags James away from their father, screaming and writhing on the floor. James is determined, singularly focused on exorcising the demons of 17 years with this man cowering in front of him for the first time. TJ snaps his fingers in front of James' eyes, snapping his younger brother out of the trance and showing him what he just did for the first time.

JAMES
Oh shit...

TJ
HEY! Look at me! You need to get out of here! Now! RUN! I'll find you later, just get the fuck out of here!

James hesitates.

Then he moves.

He hauls ass out of the bedroom, dropping the belt in the hallway as he sprints to the stairs and leaps down them three at a time. He can hear his father screaming his name as he runs. He hears the pained groans, and then a struggle as he tries to climb to his feet and is restrained by TJ.

He keeps running.

Out the front door. Down the driveway. Through the gate. Across the street.

Down the block.

Around the corner.

He never looks back.

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When you start your career off, nobody tells you that you're going to remember your losses more than your wins. Nobody tells you that the memories of Universal title wins will fade while the men who took your championships will stay etched in your mind for eternity.

I was retired.

I had come to terms with my career; I knew who I was and where I stood in the sport, I knew what I had done for it and what it had given me, and I didn't want any more from it.

I guess nostalgia was my downfall.

I wasn't looking for new experiences between those ropes, but I was willing to go to the ends of the earth if need be to find my old ones. You've all heard the story; the exile of the old guard, the bitter insults hurled around for years, the mysterious vault deep in Shane Carvers anus that held the XWF Classic video archive... I wanted those tapes. I wanted the legacy of the XWF acknowledged and the rug people like me had been swept under to be lifted.

I would have done anything, but for nearly half a decade there was nothing to be done. Shane Carver had no intention of honoring his peers, no intention of releasing the footage or building bridges back to the old eras.

It was another loss I would hold onto for half a decade, until a man named Vinnie Lane contacted me and asked me to help him. He wanted me back in the XWF, though we were going to need to be sneaky about it. Nathan Lucas, Mr. Jean Save, a myriad of monikers on the paperwork and the shouted out by ring announcers to distract the fans from who I was and why I was there; to help Vinnie regain ownership of the XWF, to beat the unbeatable Kings.

Like I said, I would have done anything for those tapes.

This was nothing.

Vinnie delivered on the tapes, and going into the deal I would have expected that to be the end of it. The whole thing evolved for me as we progressed, though. What started as an attempt to reclaim our existence became a mission to prove our superiority. I was NOT willing to be a warm body at High Stakes. I was NOT willing to be a marketing gimmick to lure back old fans. I was going to put my stamp on the modern day XWF and let them know who the fuck I was, and who the fuck I was always going to be... the greatest of all time.

Forget Steve Jason, forget Aidan or T Money or Bigg Rigg or Brand.

I was still here.

I was still ready to dust myself off and get in the ring with whatever I remembered all these years later, and prove to all these new kids that they were the junior varsity. I would prove to Shane that he was wrong to turn his back on us when he rebuilt this place. I would prove to myself that I was still worth a damn.

When Jonathyn Brown joined Vinnie and I in the ring, it was symbolic. It was something nobody could have ever imagined, myself included. It was the man I would have considered least likely to ever come out of the shadows to help me, and yet the man most synonymous with the company... Hollywood couldn't have written a better script.

I shone in that match. Jon Brown held up his end of the bargain.

I remember the final Flight of the Raven, the feeling of euphoria as I soared through the air and knew that I had finished the Kings. I didn't feel Vinnies hand tag me until it was too late, no idea what was going on until he was pushing past me and getting rolled up in the middle of the ring. I was stunned...

... until the bell rang.

... until the Kings celebrated in front of me.

... until I saw the dejected eyes of Jon Brown, and the cheering fans that had seen their new school defeat me, and who would never give my generation the respect they deserved as a result.

It shouldn't have mattered to me. I still had the XWF Classic archive in my sole possession, and I couldn't give a shit whether Vinnie cost himself the companies ownership. I was retired. What did one more loss on an otherwise stellar career matter?

It's like I said in the beginning. You remember the losses more than the wins.

I don't dislike Vinnie Lane.

I just owe him one. I beat Doc D'Ville later that same night to claim a Universal title shot, and I put in enough time on the XWF roster after that night to know I stacked up favorably against Madison, Samuels and Theo as well. Loverboy made it his part time job to avoid my challenges, though. There were plans for the King of the Ring tournament, there were offers sent his way in the months before my departure... but be it a back injury, prior engagements, or sand in his vagina he always found a reason to turn me down.

I get it, he had nothing to gain in the situation.

So I left.

I watched as Bourbon imploded under the weight of the title, and as the rest of the roster ran around like headless chickens to try and fill his spot. I watched as infighting spread and gossip ravaged the roster. The product suffered without me. There was a measurable bump in energy and focus when I popped in for War Games or a special appearance. They needed me, whether they were willing to admit it or not.

What do you give the man that has everything?

What carrot can you dangle for someone that's already draped in diamonds and pearls?

You give him "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane.

We both knew we'd end up here eventually. Your surgically repaired spine wouldn't let you dodge me forever, and the never ending quest to improve ratings and keep viable stars on your roster wouldn't allow you to keep an all timer on the WWH and WGWF rosters... no matter what menial perks you've weaseled yourself out of it.

Your main event is collapsing on itself, Vin.

I hope you're ready to steal the show.

I didn't get to prove the Classic Eras supremacy the way I had hoped at High Stakes, and unfortunately the competition you were able to throw my way in my time here didn't prove much to anyone either.

This is a shot at redemption.

No more running, Vinnie. It's nothing personal; just business.

Fear the Raven... Forevermore.

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FEBRUARY 28, 2008
TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER
A NEARBY PARK

He sits alone on a bench, surveying the park around him. There's nobody else around, the chilly Canadian air chasing them all inside hours ago. He's cold, and pulls his knees up to his chest and tries to pull his basketball shorts lower to protect from the wind. His fingertips trace across two large welts on his legs, pulling his hand to his face and seeing the faint remnants of blood smeared into the grooves and across the ridges of his fingerprints. The crimson visage brings back the memory of hours earlier, the biting sting of the leather belt once more fresh in his body.

He shudders. He pretends it's because of the cold.

James had spent his entire early life trying to make his father proud, a task he knew from day one was unlikely. He studied hard, he worked hard, he did everything that was asked of him waiting for a pat on the back and a "thatta boy" that never came. His throat tightens and he blinks away a small tear as something becomes clear to him for the first time.

He hates Jonathan Raven.

Before he has time to consider the issue much further he sees a pair of headlights from the road, pulling to a stop less than a hundred yards from James' spot on the bench. The headlights turn off, the car almost disappearing into the darkness immediately. James doesn't move, straining his eyes over the distance and shadows to get a look at the car and get a hint as to who's approaching. James coils up on the bench, ready to spring up and sprint into the trees if there's any sign it's his father.

He hears the car door open and slam shut as the driver exits.

TJ
Yo! You out here?!

A wave of relief washes over James, his brothers voice acting as a beacon of hope that lures him up off the bench and sends him charging across the grass towards the car. TJ calls out to him again, but sees the shadow racing towards him and moves to meet James part way.

James sees the damage as he nears.

TJ's right eye is swollen slightly, and there's bruising on his lower lip. The rim of his nostrils are bloodstained and crusty, his long black hair unbrushed and wild around his head. He looks like he's been through hell.

JAMES
Christ dude, what the hell happened?

TJ
Don't worry about it. Get in the car.

TJ makes his way back to the drivers side door, opening it and quickly sliding inside. James hesitates, lingering on the passenger side for a moment as he tries to read his brothers energy. A particularly cold gust of wind hits him, blowing up the back of his shorts and sending a chill up his spine, and he opens his door and dives inside the car as well. TJ doesn't say anything, and simply turns the key in the ignition. He pulls the car away from the grass and the duo silently make their way down the road and away from the park. Finally James breaks the tension.

JAMES
Are you alright?

TJ
I'm fine.

He doesn't elaborate, his eyes glancing up into the rearview to study his own face before looking back down at the road. James squirms in his seat, a knot in his stomach as he can't help but feel responsible for the whole ordeal.

JAMES
I didn't say anything to him, I swear. I didn't say anything to anyone, I've kept it a secret the whole time!

TJ
I know. It's not your fault. It was bound to happen eventually, the XWF has been putting me on TV more and more, and with Turning Point coming up this weekend someone in town was going to say something to him... it was inevitable... I just didn't expect him to go to you first. I'm sorry.

James doesn’t say anything. It’s neither of their faults. That doesn’t make him feel any better though. The car weaves around the S-curves of the Bridle Path, an affluent Toronto neighborhood.

JAMES
Christ, he’s going to kill me.

TJ
We’re not going back.

James’ head whips around to look at his older brother but TJ stares steadfastly at the road.

JAMES
What do you mean? We have to go back! I have to go back!

TJ
Don’t be an idiot. You can’t. It’ll never be safe for you there again after tonight. You think dads just going to forgive and forget? You think he won’t come after you the first time he has a drink and sees me on TV? It’s over, James. We aren’t going back.

James says nothing. He stares out his window and tries to stay calm, doing his best to look composed as he watches the trees and expensive estates whip by him. TJ was right, and James knew it. He would never have a moment of peace in that house again. He would never feel safe. It's not that simple, though... is it? He couldn't just leave. He had to finish school, and he was already pre-accepted for University in the fall. He had basketball, and his friends. He had his family, and regardless of how he felt about his father, he couldn't leave his mother and sister behind.

TJ looks at him and as if he were able to see into James' head, pulls the car slowly to the side of the road and puts a hand on his younger brothers shoulder.

TJ
Listen to me James, we're not going back. We can't. It's not an option that you need to weigh, and there's no point in making a pros and cons list. It's over, but we'll figure it out. You turn 18 in a month and a half, you're an adult! You're allowed to move out! Come with me to Buffalo, come with me to Turning Point... we'll find our way.

JAMES
What the hell am I going to do at Turning Point? I'm not a wrestler.

He laughs, the thought ludicrous to him. TJ just shrugs his shoulders.

TJ
You could be. You could be a damned good one. It doesn't matter though, are you telling me that Buffalo State wouldn't kill for you to walk on to their basketball team? The point is you can do whatever you want, we both can... for the first time in our lives, dad won't be micromanaging our lives. Come with me, James... Turning Point will change our lives. I promise.

Silence.

James knows what his answer has to be.

JAMES
Is Aidan Collins going to be there?

TJ smiles at his brother.

TJ
Of course. I'll introduce you.

JAMES
Will Vinnie Lane be there?

TJ
Who the fuck is that?

JAMES
No idea. I saw some clip of him on the internet. I thought he might have been in the XWF too.

TJ
Never heard of him.

JAMES
Meh. That's fine. Turning Point, huh? OK. Let's go.

TJ doesn't give his brother a chance to second guess his answer. He pulls the car away from the curb and continues to drive, the car weaving quietly through the sleeping city. The two don't speak again for a long while. They don't even look at each other again until they leave the city limits.

There's a small part of them that feels like this is the end of the story.

There's a much bigger part that knows it's just the beginning.

FADE
TO
BLACK