Tiffani Michaels [vs] Storming Raven

Scene 1: Fuck the police...or why I was late getting to Indianapolis.

“Look I already told you, I don't know anything about the missing people. You're only hassling me because I'm Cherokee.”

I sit in the interrogation room of the Louisiana state police. I'm being questioned about the outbreak of missing people at the Honey island swamp, where I have currently taken up residence. Two pigs trying the typical good cop, bad cop routine.

“The bodies were found a half mile from your residence. I know that's circumstantial evidence, but still.”

The other cop is red in the face, as he gets in my face and screams.

“You murdered those women, you bastard confess!”

I jerk back waving my hand in front of my nose.

“First off, invest in some tic tacs. Second, I just live there. Unless that's a crime, I've got places to go and people to hurt...you know, legally. It's my job, you know. I'm a professional ass kicker.”

The “bad cop flips over the table in anger. The guy deserves an Oscar really. I sigh mock dramatically, and applaud the performance.

“We know your record. A laundry list of crimes. The least of which is man slaughter. You could be put away for a long time if you don't cooperate.”

I chuckle and wink at the “bad cop” in a condescending manor.

“Then you also know the charges were dropped. Everything I have ever done was in self defense. To survive, you wouldn't last ten minutes on the street, Tubby.”

The “bad cop” slaps me knocking a tooth loose.

“The first one's free, Chubbins. It won't happen again. I told you I'm innocent. I had nothing to do with those women disappearing. The swamp is a dangerous place for those who don't know the land. If the gators and snakes didn't get them, they probably got in some quick sand. Now if you'll kindly excuse me.”

I maneuver my arms that were cuffed behind my back to the front, and slip off the cuffs.

“I have to get to Indianapolis.”

I walk out of the room as the lights go out in the building, and outside to start walking back to my new home to pack.


Scene 2: The beast under your bed.


I sit on the bed in my hotel. Most of the lights are turned off, only the lamp on the bedside lamp illuminates the room and puts shadows on my face. On the bedside table is a news paper with a headline about the abduction of Tim Patrick's girlfriend, or fiance or whatever the hell she was. A smaller article mentions more missing female hikers in Honey island swamp. I motion for the camera man to start rolling directing him to start with a shot of news paper.

“Another pity. What is wrong with this world? When will people learn, violence only creates more violence? I'd be remiss to say everyone is probably better off anyway. Who would want to bring a kid into this shitty world?”

I take a pack of pall mall reds from the bedside table, put one in my mouth, and pick up a book of matches. I rip one of them out of the book, and strike it out of the table. After taking a long drawl, I begin to speak again as I exhale through my nose.

“I'm sorry Tim, but like I said you're probably better off. Women are treacherous creatures. Delilah destroyed Samson by cutting his hair. Helen of Troy's beauty caused a war. Which brings me to Sunday.”

I run my fingers through my hair with a smirk.

“Heroes also die, how fitting, yet a stupid title. EVERYONE dies, it's the only certainty in life. Just as the world needs heroes and good, in the same way the world needs villains and evil. It's two sides of the same coin, black and white, yin and yang, jedi and sith. Without both of these things how could we tell what is really good? Yes the world needs guys like me. Guys who march to the beat of their own drum, guys who think outside the box. I told everyone I was going to destroy Alexander Remington, and I fulfilled that promise.”

A slow smile spreads over my face.

“So when it comes to my match at Heroes also die, the hero who must die is one Tiffani Michaels. The queen of a dead empire. Not even worth my time really. Yes, there was a time when part of me would be conflicted to face a woman. That was before I realized all the evil that has happened in this world because of a woman. How many people did you have to sleep with to get where you are in this company, Tiffani? How many hearts have you broken?”

I stand up and begin pacing, my hands behind my back.

“It's time everyone realizes women should not fight men. Sure my people at one time revered women fighters just as well as men, but look where that got them. A woman's place has been and always will be in the kitchen. The only thing this match will accomplish is a world of hurt for her. I'm bigger, stronger, more fierce. What's more, I simply just don't care who I hurt anymore. When you step in that ring there is no man or woman. There is only an enemy. An enemy I fully intend to vanquish. Don't blame me when you're laid up in the hospital with every bone in your body pounded to paste, this is a war. From now on I am going to take what I want. I will take a back seat to no one. Everyone will realize I am a true warrior who deserves the recognition of this company. No more will anyone laugh at me. I haven't even seen Tiffani around much. Are you scared Tiffani? You should be. You are about to step into a living, never ending, painful nightmare that makes childhood fears seem silly by comparison. You're just one nightmare driver away from a never ending sleep. Tiffani Michaels.....Welcome to my nightmare!”

I throw a near by decanter with a strange red liquid at the camera cracking the lens.