Thurston: “DAMMIT! God damn it! DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT!

A computer mouse comes flying out the doorway of Thurston private office and shatters against the wall opposite. It’s followed a moment later by a keyboard, which shatters and scatters the keys all over the floor. Ace wanders out of his office and walks down the hall, kicking the letters to the side of the hallway.

Ace: “You are going to clean this up, right?”

Thurston: “No, that’s what you’re for… yes, of course I’m going to clean it up.”

Ace: “Problems, bro?

Thurston: “Always problems in this life, you should know that… but yeah.”

Ace: “So what’s the matter? Can’t get it up anymore?”

Thurston: “Oh, aren’t you the comedian of the family… no, what’s the matter is this business. The GWA is what’s the matter… Steven Fury is what’s the matter… Jim Daher is what’s the matter… The Midnight syndicate...”

Ace: “Okay, I get the message, slow down a bit now. Ya know, I would think that you would be in a fairly good mood… hell, you did something on Insurrection that Daher couldn’t. You won your match. And, on top of that, you defeated a heavyweight. That’s something Daher couldn’t achieve…”

Thurston: “Yeah, but it was only Robinson… I coulda beat him with one arm broken, which, I remind you, he tried to do.

Ace: “That’s true… and you still whupped his ass, pretty quickly too.”

Thurston: “Oh, your ass knows I did… but so what? He’s a nothing, he’s worthless, just one of the Three Stooges… He’s just another victim… what has he done so far? Beat two, three people who between all of them don’t have one damn win here? And this week he’s got Drakestone, who seems to be in a bad mood lately… I almost feel sorry for him… or not. I want Daher, I deserve the title shot that’s going down on Wednesday, not Chris Cane. Just cuz Cane is Jackson’s little bitch in the Syndicate doesn’t mean he deserves the shot over me. I earned it… this is his first match back since he walked out on this federation, and he gets a title shot? What a load of shit.”

Ace: “Well, you still got a match, at least you know they’re going to keep you around… It’s against Azra’il too.”

Thurston: “Well no shit Sherlock… like it’s going to really be that difficult. Aside from that battle royal at Avalanche where he was, what, the first one eliminated?”

Ace: “I think so.”

Thurston: “Well, aside from that, he hasn’t seen any action. This is his first real match.”

Ace: “So he won’t be a problem?”

Thurston: “Not at all… Hell, I beat Maher, I beat Robinson, I beat Maher AND Robinson when they tagged against Chambers and me… I guess it was only inevitable that I would have to complete the trifecta and beat the living hell out of Larry.”

Ace: “Larry?”

Thurston: “Yeah… you know, of the Three Stooges. Craig is curly, because he’s large, slow and the others just keep him around so they look intelligent… Maher is Moe, because he’s the mouthy braggart who seems to be the ringleaders, but the others just humor him… so that leaves Azra’il to be Larry, the quiet yet annoying one that never got anywhere in life.”

Ace: “So where does that put their little tart of a manager?”

Thurston: “I don’t know... I didn’t watch the Three Stooges that much.”

Ace: “Well, you can always hope that this match will prove to Fury that you’re worthy of the title shot, that you should get it hands down at the next pay-per-view.”

Thurston: “Maybe I just need to show him just how mean I can get… They don’t seem to take me serious yet, they think I’m some weak-kneed little twit. I’ve just begun to show them how dangerous, how desperate and how violent I can be. I think I may have to escalate the level greatly this coming week…”

Ace: “Yeah, that sounds like…”

Thurston: “Damn it! I deserve this title shot! I took Daher to the edge in that match at Avalanche! I almost beat his ass for the title! I would have won, too, if they hadn’t jerked me around and made that my second match of the night… if Maher and Robinson hadn’t worn me down as much as they did earlier, and if you hadn’t hit me with that damn chair…”

Ace: “Hey, I said I was sorry, can’t we just let it die?”

Thurston: “If that hadn’t happened, I would be the Falconer Champion right now, not some pint-sized half-wit street trash like Daher.”

Ace: “Why don’t we go out to the range, get you some anger management…”

Thurston: “Can’t I’ve got business to… what the hell is this?”

Ace: “What the hell is what?”

Thurston: “Grim… John Grim.”

Ace: “Who?”

Thurston (thoughts): I knew a man who went by the name of John Grim… He wrestled around a lot of the southwestern circuits… big fucker, I met him at the benefit for Rocco two years ago…

Thurston: “Just a name from the past, I think.”

Ace: “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Thurston: “Good or bad is a very relevant judgment… hell, it might not even be who I’m thinking of.”

Ace: “But if it is…?”

Thurston: “If it’s who I think it is, he’s a dangerous friend, and an even worse enemy.”

Thurston (thought): We never thought Rob would walk again after Grim dropped him with that fucked up piledriver of his… Took Rob two years to finally regain all movement of his legs, never wrestled again… and Rob was his friend.

Ace: “So I guess you want to stay on his good side, eh?”

Thurston: “Depends who he sides with… if he goes with the Syndicate or with the Stooges or the BoV, he’s just another target. If he stays neutral, I’ll have to see what the future could hold…”

Ace: “I see…. So, can I come with you to Insurrection this week?”

Thurston: “I’d rather that you not… This is some business that I need to take care of myself. Azra’il should be no problem in the match, and if his buddies come down to get involved, well, there will be retribution. Any other trouble, I’ll make myself. And I’ll fix it myself.”