(We fade in on Ataxia sitting in a black leather chair. He is wearing a black stylized suit and tie. His Mask even looks pristine. Next to his chair is a clear small table. On the table is a bottle of gray goose vodka with a glass. He opens the bottle and pours a good sized glass of it. He puts his black opera gloved hand around the glass and bring it to his black lips and takes a long, drawn out, drink of the liquor. We hear narration take over.)

So what did we learn? Nothing it seems.

Truth is. I said I'd fuck things up and I did. Now look at what I have to deal with. Two of my least fucking favorite people yet again. I knew I should have just let you pin me like I let her pin me so many times before. You people and your legacies. What do you do when someone tells you straight to your face that you are not what you think you are. Face the facts. Without me you two wouldn't be a success. Right now this tag team match is the only thing to save either of you two from being a laughing stock. It's great.

See. Miranda beat me all of those times. We made it a nice dance. You got so huge. You got so damn big. Then to see me beat the man who stopped you with no effort.

Must really make you question just how good you actually are anymore. I all ready know the answer to that. You are not all they crack you up to be.

(As he drinks Ataxia smile letting the gleam of the liquor glisten on his blood red teeth. Suddenly a light comes on in the background. We see a dance way like that of a strip club. Coming down the isle is Miranda Steel, Ataxia's girlfriend who holds a nice victory of Miranda, and she slinks her way down the isle towards Ataxia's chair. She's wearing a nice black dress and black flats. She sprawls out in front of him.)

I know it's really hard for you to grasp this. I mean after all I have said from day one I have no interest in you. I guess I must be like your father. Truth is I don't think you have a love hate relationship with your sister. You want to be her. You want her so much that you just have to have it don't you? I mean I could keep pointing out the flaws in your psychosis and ego. Where's the fun?

You were fun. Seriously. I could have made this go a few more months, but damn you had to go and lose to a half ass wrestler.

Sucks to be you. I guess he didn't want to carry you anymore. Did it bother you so much to be so high. Did the thought of me actually taking your title scare you in the night? I know it did. Deny it all you fucking want. The truth is everyone in SFT fears losing to Ataxia. Fear of the unknown. With each victory. With each moment of planned strategy. With each pulsating pin fall I progress to the pinnacle of perfection that is the purest purge of pathetic primaeval princes and princesses of popular piss. In other words...I'm rising higher and higher staying where I am than in your main event.

You talk about a fight.

You talk about wanting competition.

Why the fuck do you think you deserve it? Because you held a weight belt? Fuck you. You deserve nothing. You have earned nothing. You have never earned a damn thing. Because no matter what you do Miranda. No matter how hard you try.

Your sister all ready beat you.

You are nothing but a shadow where as I am more than anything you could possibly imagine.

I am an apex of apathy that is burning your legacy.

With one match. Who gives a fuck about you anymore?

I never did. I had my own Miranda. She's better than you ever could be because we actually care about each other. This little display is not to just show you what you are missing, but what you never will have. A life. Something outside of your pathetic fights that mean nothing down the line.

I told you once you were a pawn. You still are.

(She slides up onto him and kisses his leg. Going up past that area where if she kissed him we'd have to blot it out. She rises up to his tie and finally kisses him passionately on the lips. He takes his hand and caresses her cheek. He turns and grabs the bottle of vodka. He pours it down her body slowly.)

So that just leaves the ass clown. Tell me. How does it feel to be shown up by the man everyone thought you were going to run over? Had enough humble pie or are you going to finally be the smart one out of the D.I. and realize I am playing all of you? Have you not realized your role in all of this? I knew Gary would dig up someone to try and save Miranda from failing because even she knew, deep down, she couldn't last. She has no staying power truly. Aside from my mercy. Now we have you. You talked a big game. You mouthed off at me like some petulant child. You made me actually care. You made me get off my ass and give ten percent of my effort.

Do you really want to continue this or do you want to keep your fucking spotlight as long as I let you?

Oh you got lucky?

Yeah. Whose making excuses. Oh if I lose this tag match I wonder if I will have to eat pie. No. Because I still win dumb ass. You people don't understand. I am not playing this game for this stupid legacy you all preach about like it matters.

(He licks the side of her face. You can almost smell the booze. She kisses him. He reaches at her dress and tears at it.)

Ahhh. That hits the spot. The real reason you all flock for a legacy is to hide the fact that you have no fucking lives. You all can't keep this separate from reality. You know what I do when I take off my face? I walk around. I have a life. I don't worry about any of you dumb shits. So let's prove one thing right now. You don't fucking matter any day out of the week except Thursday and some Sundays. That's fucking it. Sure I train to fight, but that's the job. I get paid to beat the shit out of you. Something we can all agree on yes?

So why is it so hard for you people? Because you thrive on the crowd. That crowd is the mos easily manipulated and turnable thing. They cheer for me. ME?! Why the fuck would they cheer for me? Because I stand up to a group of assholes only concerned...and I am going to say this really slowly so you can fucking understand it you degenerate circus loser...with...your...selves!

You think anyone is going to give a shit in three years what the fuck you did with Miranda? What about her long ass title reign? Hell. I might just drop the belt to Hayes and let him keep it for longer just to spit her. Just to spit on your pathetic legacies some more. If I told the front office I wanted in on that Fluffy's challenge thing. I would have fucking killed you. This would not have been a factor. The charade would have continued. The scam of a lifetime played out in front of all of you.

So why didn't I?

I got bored listening to the same dribble.

So now. I get to listen to it again. It's the same old tune. Miranda don't care. Wah wah wah.

Now I get to add you to the mix. Dear Diary. Today I didn't have a drink. Go me! Go me! Go...fuck...yourself.

No one cares. Matter of fact. I never will. I think you need a drink. I think it's the one thing that will keep you going. Because to beat me you can't have a fucking crutch. Drop the act. Seriously. You're worse than DJ. Always talking about his problems. Granted. I get it. Shit happens. Get over it and when you do come back. You are setting yourself up for failure from the start and I just love making the train wreck occur right in front of me.

You can't beat me because I'm stronger than you.

Truth is deep down. I'm a better man than you to. I can walk away from all of this and not give it a thought. One. Second. Of thought.

So tell me again how much better you are than me with your world title and clammy hands craving the shot glass I poured for you last week.

Come on. Tell me it doesn't bother you. Lie to me. Just like you lie to yourself every day. That's why you need the paint. You are invincible. That's where you might think us similar, but the truth is much more revealing. I wear this mask to protect you from what is really behind it. Something more potent and powerful than you world title could ever dream of being.

Then again I think that deep down you know that you have no real legacy.

You are after all just a footnote to the real history. The history that will soon be forgotten. You will be a annotation in some bibliography years and year and years from now. They'll show you on a highlight real as a case study and talk about your personal problems outside of the ring more so than what you did inside of it. They'll talk about what a bland person you really are. Me. They'll never remember me. I'm the thing they will want to forget.

Who was Ataxia?

Do you really care studio audience? I didn't think so.

Truth is I don't even care. I'm having way to much fun laughing at how stupid you all take this.

Incidentally enjoy the show. Because all I have right now is the good life. Don't you wish it was back to that way for you. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...

(The dress is gone. She's only in her underwear. The lights start to fade out. The only thing we see is the mask of Ataxia silhouetted. )