The Ghost in the Machine (CD for Cynthia and Percy)

(The camera opens at poolside where Cynthia Rose lounges in a bathing suit and a pair of sunglasses, her injured arm now in a soft cast propped up on the armrest of her beach chair. Her trick knee from college, propped up. The sound of shuffling footsteps doesn't pull her out of her zen like state of catching rays until a giant shadow casts over her and gets in the way of her sunlight. She lifts her shades and peers up at her trainer, Percy, in red swim trunks with a towel around his neck.)

Percy: I didn't know you'd be out here. If you want some privacy I can...

(Cynthia stares up at her trainer with blank bewilderment, slides her shades back down on the bridge of her nose, and continues to stare ahead silently at the pool's rippling water.)

Cynthia Rose: Doesn't bother me none if you're out here.

Percy: Good. I'm just going to do a few laps to loosen up my back. I've been walking stiff since-

Cynthia Rose: It's not like you'd listen if I objected anyway.

Percy: Okay, you haven't talked to me since Death Sentence and I'm beginning to-

Cynthia Rose: Gee, I wonder why? Hmm, why hasn't Cynthia talked to Percy since Death Sentence? Hmmm, that's a head scratcher isn't it?

Percy: I get it! I came out when you specifically told me not to, but it was for your own good.

Cynthia Rose: "For my own good?" Like starting to throw punches and wrestling counter-intuitively to my own style was "for my own good?" Because that was your call too, and it landed me in a cast Percy.

Percy: Yeah well I didn't tell you to come back while your arm was still in a damn cast!

Cynthia Rose:...how many times do I have to tell you not to use that language in front of me?...

Percy: All I've done is be there for you to take on abuse and call the game when you were too bullheaded to do it when your own well being was on the line!

Cynthia Rose: None of this would've happened if I wrestled my own way!

Percy: Wrestling YOUR way would've gotten you hurt worse!

Cynthia Rose: WRESTLING MY WAY NEVER LANDED ME IN A CAST!

Percy: NO! BUT IT TOOK YOU OUTTA COLLEGIATE DIDN'T IT!!!!

(Cynthia sits up, as if threatening to storm off. Percy points threateningly at the beach chair, prompting her to stay. After a long stare down, Cynthia lets out a sigh and sits on the edge of the chair, her arms and legs crossed as she refuses to even make eye contact with Percy.)

Percy: I made my calls as a player-coach and tried my damnedest to correct them on the fly to the best of my abilities. I've sacrificed my health for your own safety. I've taken bumps that I've never taken before. I've gotten my slap on the wrist for telling you to do things my way in the form of a double powerbomb through a table! But just because I've had to step in and make those corrections doesn't mean I'm not right.

(Cynthia lets out a huff and whips her hair in defiance. Percy, desperate, drops down to one knee to get on her level, forcing her to look him in the eye as he takes her hands and uncrosses her arms.)

Percy: I'm sorry, but I couldn't sit back there and watch Layne take advantage of you like that again. Not when my fingerprints are on it. Not when I can do something about it. You've gotten hurt, and I'll do everything within my power to keep that from happening again, but you've got to keep fighting because that's what they're going to do. Not wrestling, not grappling, but fighting.

Cynthia Rose: You shouldn't have to put yourself in harm's way just for me to get a win.

Percy: It wasn't about getting a damn win. It was about having the chance to win the next one without spending another two holidays in traction watching at home from the sidelines. It was about having a career after one bad match. It was about you keeping your passion for this despite the likes of Layne Driver and Ghost Organization trying to beat it out of you. Whether you like it or not kid, this is Civil War. Our troops are AWOL, our generals are POW. All that's left is a few good men and one soldiering youngster whose heart doesn't have to be purple for it to bleed for this sport.

Cynthia Rose: Neither does yours.

(Percy looks down, hurt by Cynthia's words as she wipes the hair from her face matter-of-factly and takes off her sunglasses to reveal eyes full of anger, resentment, and worry.)

Cynthia Rose: I'm all out of tears, Percy. I'm done crying over...over this, over me, over you, over Wrestleworld...over all of it. I've shed my last tear for professional wrestling's steady decline into street fight tactics. I've laid awake worrying about your health and mine for the last time. I'm not even mourning the loss of the European Championship because, speaking of White Knights coming to my rescue when I didn't ask for it, it's on Nobi now. He's been through worse than me and came out the other end with more shimmering armor than he came in with. Maybe he'll be able to save the division, the company, and all of us and succeed where I've failed. He'll throw righteous punches without pulling them with a second thought to their moral ambiguity. He'll help others instead of putting them in harm's way coming to his rescue. He'll bring honor and respect to that title without feeling like a hypocrite for doing what's right. I don't know if I can do that anymore. I don't know if I ever could.

Percy: Hey, not wanting to go out there and kill somebody doesn't make you weak. It means the exact opposite, actually. I wish I had seen that before. I'm sorry that I asked you to change. I'm sorry that I feel as though I still have to, but you know that I'm right. No more hesitation. No more regret. No more feeling bad about doing what you have to do. You can't compromise with Ghost Organization. You can't expect them to play by your rules, and if costing you an arm doesn't prove that then let me costing myself the luxury of sleeping on my back for a week act as exhibit A.

(Percy gingerly rises, clutching his back, playing up his injury for a little comedic sympathy. Cynthia's eyes soften as she lets out a reluctant chuckle. She slowly stands, looping Percy's arm around her neck as she carefully lifts her trainer upright and slowly guides him toward the hotel lobby.)

Cynthia Rose: Look at us: bickering about you saving me while the island is in political upheaval around us.

Percy: Yeah, well, my lower back isn't screaming at me about the problems of the world right now. We look after each other, kid. It's you and me, and then everyone else on this crazy ass island.

Cynthia Rose: Hah! Speak for yourself! I've got family still, ya know?

Percy: Oh yeah? and where was your crazy ass uncle when I was going through a table for your narrow little white girl ass? I suppose he'll take credit for that one too...

Cynthia Rose: Hey language when you're talking about my unc. Ohmygosh! he called me after that match asking me to thank you for him for taking care of his niece. He had a hard time getting through the match. Said it felt like it took a month to sit through watching his little Pillsbury Dough Girl get put through the works.

Percy: He asked you to thank me?

Cynthia Rose: Yes, sir. You and Chris Sabertooth both.

Percy: Shht, typical Tony. Taking credit for someone else's work...and I suppose that's as much of a thank you as I'm going to get out of you for making the conscious decision to walk funny for a month for your sake.

Cynthia Rose: Yup! Especially if that's how you go about asking for one.

(The two finally make it to the hotel lobby entrance, with Percy grumbling as Cynthia laughing at him as the camera fades to black.)