What's The Most You've Ever Lost On A Coin Toss?

"Heads I win, tails you lose."

[10:00 A.M. Monday, January 20th. Location: Unknown. A bright glowing bulb shines down in a perfect cone shape amidst a sea of darkness.]

"I once thought your pairing together was a coincidence. I thought it was a joke that Drake and Jones concocted with an open ended punchline. Nobi and Reno as a tag team. Get it? it's because they're both losers who don't play well with others. You're the same guy, except that Nobi at least pretends his fuse isn't as short as a nail clipping. Nobi plays victim until it all builds up inside of him and explodes outward. His frustration is weaponized. You Reno? You're a raw nerve that's just so fun to tap dance on. You take all of this personally, threaten the livelihoods of others, and just shoot off your mouth until someone shuts you up. You say that we're not on top of the food chain? I disagree. You and Nobi definitely aren't there anymore. I know, because I'm the one who pushed you off."

[The Professional steps out of the darkness, his hands on his hips and his fingers laced beneath his belt.]

"But you know what, Reno? be mad. Being reckless is what got you laid out on your back in the first place. Who overlooks a sharp dressed man like myself hanging out in the balcony area? Only men with rage blinders on, that's who. What mumbo-jumbo are you babbling about this not being about a title? Of course it is. It's always been about the gold, and keeping it around Claudia Michaels pretty little waist. If it weren't, then I wouldn't be here now would I? Or maybe I would. After all I'm not the type of man to show up uninvited, but I tend to find a way to get my foot in the door if it's somewhere that I really want to be. Do you think it was hard for me to find someone that downright despises you two that doesn't mind funding my own personal vendetta as long as their name is on the receipt? I'm not short on clients here in Wrestleworld. My time has never been cheap though, so why don't we cut to the chase here; You want the American Dream Championship? tough. You want revenge? too bad. You want to know who I am? that's not in my job description, and you can say that you don't care all you want Reno, but you threw out quite the rogues gallery of usual suspects like a fisherman trying to catch a bite but I'm not tugging on your line today friend. If you want any frame of reference, any morsel of truth, any inkling of what's going on here though, I will dust a few crumbs off of the table and tell you right now that I don't know you from Adam, Reno. I couldn't pick your generic bald head/goatee motif out of a lineup of other generic bald men if a gun were digging into my temple. That's why none of this is personal. You're just a name on an envelope that was slipped under my door one day. Nothing more and nothing less. I wont harm you out of malice or threaten to end your career like a coward that's afraid of rematches, but I will stop you from taking that belt from that petite waist because that's what I'm here to do. Like I said before the gal doesn't need any help, but I don't mind being a backup hot tag insurance policy or even doing all of her light work. If she doesn't even want to step into that ring to waste her time with the likes of you two, then I'll oblige her and dispatch you both single handedly just as I've done before. Then what? Are you going to go crying back to Jaywalker about life being unfair? Tough. If you two want the American Dream, you're going to have to live through a few nightmares first."

[The Pro lifts his wrist, revealing the cuffed on briefcase dangling from it. He holds it on display under the light like a home shopping model momentarily with a sick glint in his eye as he strokes it's sides with his free hand.]

"Maybe I make sure you don't make it to that chamber match? at least not in one piece. At the end of the day, that's all up to the Consigliere I'll most definitely enjoy dissecting Nobi, or perhaps I have already? You seem frustrated Nobi. Have I ruined your plans? exposed your true nature as a user? did I make you question why you left Reno all by his lonesome? Want to take a little stress out on the ol' Pro by using him as a punching bag? That's below my pay grade. I hope I have cost you a few nights sleep, because that's in the job description. I'm not impressed that you knocked down a few tomato cans in the Drake & Jones Games, nor am I impressed with your showing in the Bloodbath Battle Royal. You can make up all of the excuses in the world for losing to me, but when it comes right down to it you weren't good enough to take me out, just like you weren't good enough to win that ladder match. The same's true of Reno in his bout with Claudia. You all blame me for your failures, but in truth all you have to blame is yourselves and each other for not being as tight knit and cohesive as a tag team unit as you claim to be. In truth you were probably happy when I pushed Reno off of that balcony. It was one less person in your way on that path toward the American Dream. Likewise, until I interfered in his business I don't recall Reno ever sticking up for you Nobi. It's almost like you don't have any friends. Ever wonder why that is? Do you ever question why so many have came and went out of your life? People who did stick up for you. People that you went to war with. People who succeeded and failed alongside you as a singular entity. Where are they now? Did they fall in battle? or did you use them as human shields as you forged your way toward what you wanted? Either way you didn't seem to mind stepping over a few corpses to get where you are today. Is that what Reno is to you? Just another warm body that's there to block the slings and arrows until it ceases to be warm? I'd like to know the answers to these questions, Nobi. Please, indulge a Professional. At this point I'm not even condemning you. I'm no better, am I? except that I never pretend to be friends with those who choose to do business with me. I never fake loyalty, respect, or camaraderie. I make my intentions known and keep my motives crystal clear. I don't like Claudia Michaels. I think she's just as sneaky, underhanded, and manipulative as you. Odds are she'll hire someone else to take me out before her check clears, but at least she's up front about it. People know she's no saint. She calls herself the Consigliere for Christ's sake. People clamber and clap for Nobi though. People love the underdog story. People don't like when Nobi's upset and people shed tears of joy on the rare occasions that you do succeed because you've conned them into believing your win is their win. That's fine, because your loss can be theirs as well for all I care. Live in that limelight while you have it, kid. It's fading fast and the darkness will inevitably close in on you. It'll choke you, contort you, and pervert your very form until your true nature is on display for the world. I know because I live in that darkness now. As a matter of fact, I don't just live there; I thrive there. It's where I should've been all along, and soon you'll find out the same is true of you as well when I drag you kicking and screaming into the void of obscurity, and your last vision of light will be casting down on Claudia Michaels as she stands over Reno Dumont's body with that championship intact. That image will burn into your mind, and you'll remember it for the rest of your tortured days spent in the shadows, forever on the edge of that limelight that you couldn't attain because I wouldn't let you. I'm here to drown your white armor in crude oil and rob you of the facade, and once I take off your mask maybe I'll take off mine. But who knows, right? Maybe we'll let it ride on a coin flip. Heads I win, tails you lose."


[The Pro smirks as he pulls a silver dollar out of his pocket and bites it in his teeth to test it's authenticity. He flips it with his thumb and lets land on his wrist. He covers it with his hand and stares down the barrel of the camera.]

"You don't have to call it. I've already called it for you."


[The Pro frisbees the coin into the darkness, where it clanks onto the ground audibly with a thud. He then turns on his heel and walks out of the spotlight. The camera lingers momentarily on the only beacon in the void, before shutting off just as the Pro's eyes shine just outside of the halo of light.]