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-::The new scene begins in Cyrus O'Haire's house. The house is semi-large, but not a mansion. The interior is brand new, new pant that hasn't been touched, new rugs, almost never been walked on. New carpet, pictures, yadda yadda. Wayne Winkler is in the den, the camera catches his face as they stroll into the room. Winkler now has his blazer off, and is sitting in front of a computer, his tie losened as well. Cyrus isn't in the room. We look in on Winkler, his computer screen in front of him an e-mail that he is writing. The address he's sending it to is TXavierT@wawf.com, Xavier Prescott's e-mail address. We listen in on the scene, as Winkler reads the message from the top down.::-
"'Xavier: It looks as though our boy Cyrus has gone completely bizerk. I don't know what set him off, maybe his leg, maybe it was his unstability. You were right for sending me with him, he would've done something stupid had I have not've been here. He has very malitious thoughts roaming through his mind. I'm not so sure as to believe that Cade Sydal is taking Cyrus seriously. Maybe its not my area to say, but I don't think Cyrus can handle losing to that man. He wont be able to cope with losing two in a row. I'm half tempted to send Cyrus into an institution, but the last time we did that he just broke out and came after us. You remember that, don't you? I think its best Cyrus just work through his problems. He might hurt a person or two, but he'll make a name for himself in this company, and fast. He's taking a shower right now, trying to cool off and keep an infection out of his hand. He suffered a pretty good cut when he punched that window, but it's nothing that'll keep him from wrestling Sydal. It's stitch worthy, we're going to get it done in an hour or two, Cyrus just wants to cool down first. For the first time in my knowledge, I was afraid of Cyrus O'Haire. Not even when it was Titan and O'Haire did I fear him. He's turned into a beast. He truly is Psycho Cy now. He'll be getting out of the shower soon, I'd better close this up. Just checking in. You're his best friend, I thought you should know. Tell Pandora hello, as well. Winkler.'That's good. I'm sure Xavier will enjoy hearing from me."
-::Winkler sends the e-mail, then stands, stretching. Cyrus mumbles in the background, Winkler jumping to attention, dropping his arms to his side. He walks out of the den, forgetting the computer is still on. Cyrus walks out of his bedroom, wearing a black t-shirt with no text, tucked inside of khaki cargo pants, and brown work boots. He has a towel to his hair, drying it that way.::-
"So, uh... how'd everything go in there?"
"I took a fucking shower, Winkler. It's not like I preformed neurosurgery on your cat, Nibbles. You don't have to fucking look over me every five minutes, I'm not a toddler. I'm not going to choke on any plastics."
"I know, Cyrus. I just, don't want to see anything happen to you."
"Winkler, will ya' stop with the 'daddy' act? I grew up without one, I'm damn sure I can go my whole life without one. You don't fit the bill anyways, you coniving little bastard."
-::Cyrus looks to Winkler, drying the last of his hair, the cuts still bleeding, making a crimson pool on the white towel. Cyrus wraps the towel around his hand, as Winkler stands, looking at him with his jaw dropped.::-
"What, Winkler? I've called you that before, you never took offense to it then. You used to think of it as a compliment. Where did your fucking evil side go? Did you sign my contract away, and with it your fucking soul? Who's the new fucking inhabitant, 'cause it isn't the Wayne Winkler, Jr. I knew. The Wayne Winkler that laughed in the face of Jack Menace, made Fred Sylver shit his pants and led the WAWF to glory. What ever happened to that fucker?"
-::Winkler looks to Cyrus, his jaw closing as he does. He walks into the den, grabbing his blazer. Cyrus stands, looking at Winkler turn his back, and cackles, then crosses his arms as best he can with the towel. Winkler comes back, tossing the blazer over his shoulders, tightening up his tie, and looking at Cyrus at the same time. He stands in front of him, and smiles.::-
"Why are you smiling, Winkler?"
"Cyrus, shut your fucking mouth, you little pecker head, and listen to me."
-::Cyrus cackles, and turns his back, Winkler quickly spinning him around. Cyrus laughs at Winkler, getting a crude remark in return.::-
"Listen here you little schizophrenic asstard. I've had enough of this tough boy act, especially to me. You can't do diddly shit to me, or to that little fucking shit head Cade Sydal. You know why? Because your ass is too pathetic to want to do anything. You're a lover, not a fucking hater, don't even fucking say you are. You know that your hardcore reign was because of, who? Wayne fucking Winkler, fucking Junior. So who should you be saying is the man that made the hardcore division what it is today? ME. I made you the next big thing, I made you the big thing, and the only way you're going to be anything in this federation is if you listen to me."
-::Cyrus laughs, clapping to the speach that Winkler just gave to him. He smiles to Winkler, stopping his claps.::-
"I guess I'm not that unstable. I just got you to do what I wanted from you. I just manipulated, a schizo just manipulated Wayne Winkler, Jr."
-::Winkler immediately slams a right into Cyrus's face, then a left, and another right. Cyrus looks to Winkler, dazed,yes. Shocked, no. Cyrus laughs, then lands a hard right on Winkler, his good hand, sending Winkler on to his back, Cyrus standing over him.::-
"How does my fucking fist taste, Winkler? You enjoy the taste of skin? No? That's too damn bad!"
-::Cyrus grabs Winkler by the hair, holding his head up in the air, Winkler tries to free himself. Cyrus lands two or three more good shots to the face of Winkler, then throws the man's head to the ground. Cyrus stands up, looking over to the camera.::-
"You think that that was set up, Cade? You think that that's not real blood, that I wouldn't hurt another human being, a friend no less? I know that's what you're thinking. That wasn't fucking set up, it wasn't a God damn camera trick. When you piss off Cyrus O'Haire, you piss off Cyrus O'Haire, no matter who you are. George 'Dubya' or fucking Betty Boop. I beat up a helpless old man? No I fucking didn't. He lifts with me, he's almost as fucking strong as I am. He's only about fucking 29. The bastard isn't that fucking out of shape, he doesn't fucking smoke. He just isn't a professional wrestler, so that makes him fucking weaker than I am, right? WRONG. Fucking WRONG as FUCK. He could've easily decked me before I decked him, he did. He laid a couple good ones on me. But I knew that if I let the pain to get to me, I couldn't accomplish my goals. What goals? To watch him bleed on the floor. To watch you grimace. Maybe I can't see you do it, but I know you did. You're not as fucked as I am. Too many chair shots perhaps. I've taken more in a night than you have in your wrestling career. Too many tables? Try getting thrown off of a twenty five foot ladder, in the ring even, and fall through 5 tables. You'll enjoy it, I know I did."
-::Winkler begins to stir, a cut above his left eye, where Cyrus was punching. Blood rushes from the open wound, Cyrus laughs.::-
"Rise and shine sleepy head."
"Blow it out your ass, fuck-head."
"Walk away, Winkler. Go make a drink or something. As I was saying."
-::Cyrus looks back to the camera, chuckling. Winkler walks away, out of the camera's view. Cyrus begins to speak, but is immediately cut off as Winkler comes back into view, carrying a thick peace of wood, a baseball bat. Cyrus's eyes open as Winkler takes a large cut, and smacks the end of the bat into Cyrus's face.::-
"Now how do you fucking like them apples, bitch?"
-::Winkler walks over to Cyrus, straightening his tie. He puts the barrel of the bat on his shoulder, then looks down, strattling the man, Cyrus lays still, barely breathing.::-
"Listen here, fucker. No matter what you ever do, what you ever say, you'll always be the one that Winkler made. When you win the world title, I'll be by your side, because I made you, Cyrus O'Haire. You know I did. Xavier Prescott, Taryn Teagan, Cade Sydal... they all know that Wayne Winkler, Jr. made you. And speaking of you two from the DIWF, I'm still alive and kicking. I'm not dead, like you thought I was. I'm not giving up. I signed those contracts away for a better job oppertunity. An oppertunity to mold this little peckerhead into a larger, younger, more atheletic Wayne Winkler, Jr, like I'm doing now. Back when I could wrestle, I took a good couple few chair shots myself. I knew all about everything, and I've been teaching Cyrus. Cade, you don't have to believe him, his cherades, which I'm pretty sure are in fact real, but believe me. I've been in this business for 5+ years. I know all the stars, and his the first to get me riled up like this."
-::Cyrus begins to stir, Winkler takes the blunt end of the bat and drives it into Cyrus's skull.::-
"Stay asleep, Cyrus. Anyways, Cade. He's been pissed off before, but you've lit a fire under his butt, and he's going to take some agression out on you. On our trip to Ireland, I'm not sure he'll be all too happy, so if he gets rowdy with me, I'm going to get rowdy with you. I'm his OFFICIAL manager now. I said so, so I'll be down at ring side with him. After he beats you, you'll get that match you wanted, a strap match. You two will be latched together so close, you'd have to shower together if they never took the things off. That means no high-flying, no flips, spin kicks, nothing. Just all out brawling. Try to take out a six-foot-whatthefuckever beast when he's fucking crazed. Yeah - FUCKING - right. You better come to play tomorrow, bucko. I know he will. I'll make the little bitch. Now... to get the bear into the H2."
-::Winkler slaps Cyrus's face a few times, then pulls Cyrus off of the ground. Cyrus begins to stir, Winkler slaps him again, Cyrus immediately wakes up.::-
"Get in the fucking hummer. We got to get your hand looked at."
-::Winkler walks away, Cyrus follows him. The camera does not.::-
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