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Fields Of The Fallen

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Woman: How may I help you today?

B2: I'm here to view Steve Murray.

[The woman nods and Brandon begins to follow her through the winding
corridors of the mortuary. As he is walking down the hall, Brandon
notices several rooms set up for viewing of loved ones. He stops for a
moment and sees a grieving family paying their respects to a lost
grandfather. He sees this and thoughts of his own grandfather begin to
flood his mind.]

Woman: Sir? Steve is in the chapel.

[Brandon snaps out of his trance.]

B2: Thank you, ma'am.

[She leaves him and Brandon reaches for the door, but is apprehensive.
It's almost as if he is afraid to touch the knob for fear that he will
doom himself to the same fate too soon. After he gets past his fears,
he opens the door. At the entrance is the guestbook, which Brandon
stops and signs, and begins to slowly walk down the aisle. He sees a
man sitting in the front row and smiles. He walks up to the man and
touches his shoulder.]

B2: It's good to see you, man.

[The man turns, and B2 immediately realizes his mistake.]

B2: Oh, my apologies.

[The man nods and goes back to his prayer. Brandon continues his trek
down the aisle, but stops again. He mutters under his breath...]

B2: I can't do this.

[Brandon begins to turn, but is stopped by the older man he confused
for his friend, Max.]

Older Man: What is the problem, son?

[Brandon tries to find the words, but cannot. The gentleman smiles.]

Older Man: Have you never lost anyone close to you?

B2: My mother died when I was 9, but I never went to the service. This
is still a new experience for me.

Older Man: Well, you are very lucky indeed. I'm usually here at least
once a month saying goodbye to someone I care about.

[The older gentleman motions for Barajas to have a seat. Barajas does
without even questioning this kind stranger.]

Older Man: Name is Allen, Ken Allen.

B2: I'm Brandon Barajas. I'm a friend of Malcolm's.

[The two shake hands. Brandon notices that he is missing part of his
index finger. Ken sees this, and laughs.]

Ken: I lost that in a threshing accident. You have to be careful around
those things. They remind me of medieval torture implements.

B2: I'm no stranger to farm work. I used to do submersible pump work
with my grandfather back in New Mexico.

Ken: Wow, I didn't have you painted as a manual labor sort. With that
suit, you look like you keep your hands in Ivory all day.

[Barajas laughs at this comment.]

B2: I spent more than my fair share in the fields. It's only been
recently that I have begun to do well for myself.

[Barajas looks around the room.]

B2: Has Malcolm been here today?

Ken: Oh yes, he was here early this morning. Anyways, what are you so
afraid of?

B2: It's kind of tough to explain.

Ken: Give it a shot. I may be old, but my noggin is still firing on all
cylinders.

B2: Well, death has always been a bit of a taboo topic for me. One
would think that it is because the death of my mother wasn't handled in
the correct way.

Ken: It sounds like you weren't allowed to grieve properly.

B2: That, and a lying father who walked away from a woman who would
have done anything for him.

Ken: Cheating father?

B2: Exactly.

[Ken nods, then reaches for his wallet. He takes out an old faded
photograph. He offers it to Brandon.]

Ken: That was my boy. He died in an automobile accident while I was
fighting in World War II.

B2: I'm sorry to hear that.

[Barajas gives the photo back to Ken and he carefully puts it back in
his wallet.]

Ken: He died while I was gone. I didn't even get a chance to say a
proper goodbye to my boy. It was two long years before I was able to
pay my respects.

[A tear begins to build in the corner of his eye.]

Ken: It was really tough for me. He was my only boy. I never had a
child again after that, because I was fearful that the same thing that
happened to my son would also happened to my unborn child. Instead of
dealing with it properly and having the family I had always dreamed of,
I've been alone for nearly thirty years.

[Barajas looks at the man with a bit of shock in his eyes.]

B2: How do you do it? What about a wife? Brothers and sisters?

Ken: My wife died about five years after my son did. After those two
were taken away from me, I put my heart in a lockbox and stored it
away, safe from harm. But, look at me now. I'm 85, and I'm all alone.
Some people think that a life on the road alone is a proper path. But
let me tell you, there is nothing at the end of that road except a six
foot hole in the ground, and then you are forgotten.

[Ken stands up and picks up his coat.]

Ken: A life alone isn't much of a life. It's god awful when it happens
to you out of nowhere. But, it's even worse when you plan it out that
way. You take care of yourself Mr. Barajas.

[Barajas shakes his hand again.]

B2: You too, Mr. Allen....you, too.

[Ken leaves the chapel and now Barajas is alone. He stands up and walks
to the aisle. He begins to turn for the door, but stops, and looks over
his shoulder at the casket and spread of flowers. After a few moments
of apprehension, he slowly walks up to the casket. Steve is dressed in
his finest and is holding onto a necklace that Max bought for him when
he hit it big in wFw.]

B2: Thank you for bringing such a strong force into the world, Steve.
And thank you for one of the best friends I've ever had.

[Barajas places his hand on Steve's. It's foreign and cold, as if he is
grasping onto his shell. After a silent goodbye, Barajas makes his way
for the exit.]

----------------------------------------------------------

What a past few weeks it has been! First the Irish grinch comes in and
tries to destroy one of my favorite holidays by being the hot dog
struttin' floozie I know her to be. But Santa wasn't having any of
that! Next up, The Violent One and myself put the boots to some MWA
legends and scored the first victory in what I hope is a long
campaign...er...Campain. Now, the next serving of delicious vittles has
been placed in front of Max and myself in the form of Sophie O'Brian
and her little hired gun/brother Mark.

I think it's adorable when a sibling team comes into the game. Having
your bro at your side probably gives the two of you a little sigh of
relief, doesn't it? Knowing that the person that has been charged with
protecting you during battle and vice verca is a person you can trust
one hundred percent. I have that luxury as well. The man at my side is
a man that I would trust with my life, and have for nearly 13 years.

But there is one drawback to keeping your "Sic Semper TYrranis"
movement on track, and that is passion....passion for what you believe
in, and passion for your goal. That, and your brother seems to have an
attention span that can only be measured in nano-seconds. What makes
you think you have what it takes to instill true change in the MWA?

Many have come and gone spouting that same rhetoric, but Maximum
Violence and myself have done exactly what we said we would do: took
out the trash, and restored this place to the battlefield of honor it
used to be.

What I'm trying to say is that your battle is pointless, and any
thoughts of victory the two of you may harbor should be discarded like
Mark's GED.

I've always been a firm believe in "you get what you give".
For six months, Maximum Violence has run through the MWA,
and left in his wake are the bodies of people just like you.
People that thought that they could make a change...fighting
the almighty powers-that-be. He has poured his all into his final ride.
This is what he is going to be remembered for. The only place
for you both in the MWA is in the highlight reels of Maximum
Violence and myself.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of stickin' it to the man. We in
no way shape or form want to derail your valiant quest. Quite the
contrary, we hope you succeed! We welcome any effort to shuffle things
up behind the scenes. But you're not going to garner any success by
trying to defeat us. So bring all that confidence and moxie to Beijing,
should be entertaining.

Should you fail, there is always country music. They love bro/sis
combos.

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==Two Days Later==


[The procession of cars begins to make their way through the winding
roads of Mount Hope Cemetery. At the front of the procession is a long
black hearse. Behind it is 1969 Blue Camaro SS with "Silver Streak"
written on the side. This car was obviously built for the quarter mile
and not the highway. Max is behind the wheel, wearing his mirrored
aviators. The line of cars arrive at Steve's gravesite, and the public
begins to take their seats next to the fresh plot. Max is last to leave
the row of vehicles and slowly makes his way to his father's burial.
Instead of taking his seat at the front, he walks towards the reverend
seeing over the proceedings and asks him to sit down. He then
turns to the people and begins to speak.]

Max: We are here today to say goodbye to a father, a son, and a dear
friend. Steve Murray was all these things, and even more. It is because
of him that I am where I am today.

[Max takes a moment to clear his throat.]

Max: Steve Murray was brought into this world by a family that had nothing
except each other, and their love for one another. It was always about
teamwork with the Murray family. If we were all healthy, had a roof
over our heads, and food in our bellies, then everything was going great.
And he made sure that we had those three critical things throughout our
younger years. But, things weren't always peachy for the Murray clan. As
with any family, we had our problems. But without my father at the helm,
we would have imploded. He always fought to keep us strong, even at his
detriment.

[Max notices the portrait by the grave, and smiles.]

Max: That picture was taken backstage at WICW when I won my first World
Title. Back then, nobody thought I would make a mark in the business I have
chosen, but he knew of my potential to be great in any venture I chose.
When he could be, he would be backstage at shows. And when he couldn't,
he would be the last man I'd talk to before a match, and the first one
afterwards. And now, that valuable guidance is gone. But, it lives on through
me and the Murray family.

[Max reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an old tattered mask.]

Max: My father made me this mask. He always thought that what I did was
too brutal and not what he had intended for Malcolm Murray. So he made me
this mask right before I left for Japan. It was his opinion that, when I go to
the ring night in and night out, this mask would be the personification of
the violence that I would dish out for the masses.

[Max laughs to himself.]

Max: I always thought it was because I wasn't graced with those Irish good
looks that the rest of my family was lucky enough to have.

[Max admires the mask a final time.]

Max: I have dozens of these now, but this one, the one I wear on
MWA television, was crafted by a true warrior. Now that he is gone...

[Max walks towards his father's final resting place and places the mask
on the casket.]

Max: ...he needs it on his journey.

[Max bends down on one knee, and says something that is only meant
for himself and his father.]

Max:
Breac à linne, slat à coille is fiadh à fìreach - mèirle às nach do
ghabh gàidheal riamh nàire.

[Max takes a moment to gather his composure, then rises.]


Max: I invite any and all of you that have stories you'd like to share

about my father to come forward and share your wonderful memories.


[Max nods a farewell to the crowd, then makes his way to his father's

vehicle. Standing by the vehicle dressed in black is Morrigan. Max

notices her leaning on the car and becomes enraged.]


Max: Get your ass off of that car right now and get the fuck out of here.


Morrigan: What? Can't I come and pay my respects? You know I was

close with your family as well.


Max: Yeah, which makes recent events all that more shocking. I

told you to leave.


[Morrigan begins to slowly walk towards Max.]


Morrigan: Even on a day like this, you still harbor all that hate and

anger in your soul. How do you get by?


Max: By staying away from harlots like you. You can go say your peace,

but I'm leaving.


[Max walks around Morrigan to leave, but is stopped.]


Morrigan: "A fish from the river, a staff from the wood and a deer

from the mountain - thefts no Gael was ever ashamed of."


[Max stops and turns.]


Morrigan: Yeah, I remember. That was your dad's credo, wasn't it?

Now look at him....cooling his heels in a hole in the Earth.


[Max slaps Morrigan before realizing what he had done. Morrigan

doesn't look shocked at all. In fact, she is rather pleased with herself.]


Morrigan: Thank you for that..


[Morrigan walks right up to Max and looks him directly in his eyes.]


Morrigan: You may be on the card for Beijing, but I think you're going

to have a little free time after that.


[She walks past Max to "pay her respects".]


Morrigan: Don't worry about the BattleZone in Rome. I'm going to have

a chat with the brass and your sorry ass is going to begin serving a

30 day suspension, starting immediately after BattleZone.....toodles.


[Morrigan enjoys a laugh as the scene fades.]


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Six months.....six long months I have been in the MWA. I have put

myself through hell to restore the name of Maximum Violence in the

minds and the hearts of all, and I feel I have done that. But at what

cost? It seems that when I am victorious in the ring, my personal life

decides to stoke the fires and try bring me down. I have lost so much

over the past few months, but I am still here.


And I'm not going anywhere...30 day suspension or not.


With the death of my father comes change. Now, I'm not very kind

to change. But there is something in the winds that says to me that

changes are coming, wether we are ready for them or not. It's times

like these when we are truly tested, and the measure of our worth

is put up against the forces that try to take us down. I am no stranger

to adversity, and have met every challenge thrown my way with

everything that I have. They haven't all been winners, but the list of

people that have gotten the better of me here is much shorter than

the people I've had to put out to pasture.


First one is Steve Pinex, our World Champion. You see, when Pinex

wrestlers others, it is viewed as a "wrestling match". When I stepped

in the ring with the man, it stopped being about wrestling still and

turned into a battle. In the end, Steve Pinex got the best of me, but

they still talk about the war the two of us had. My respect for Pinex

had been dwindling since I arrived here, but he answered all the

questions I had. Pinex, you are a worthy champion, and we will have

our day again...may be sooner than you think.


But before there was Pinex, there was Glory Braddock. Other than

looking forward to the battle I should have had with McBride, I was

really looking forward to testing Braddock, and she surprised me.

She nearly achieved her goal of another go-round with Pinex, but

fell short. Now she is gone, and we are left with The O'Brian's.


Imagine my joy and delight..


Instead of the MWA fans enjoying the talent and prowess of Glory

Braddock, we get stuck with a woman who claims to admire her,

and her brother....who seems like less of a human juggernaut and

more of a beer ponging frat boy that likes to fight for the sake of

fighting. I used to be like that. Of course, I learned that fighting

without purpose is a waste of time and energy. All these so-called

tough guys waltz in here thinking they are going to blaze a path of

destruction through the MWA. That is, of course, until they meet me.

Then all that fire in their souls seems to extinguish itself. After that,

all the fight in their heart is gone and I destroy what is left.


I don't think you get it Mark, and I'm not surprised. The era of the

steroid-born superhero wrestler went the way of the blue suede

shoe a long time ago. Being big....being mean...it doesn't mean

anything, and it doesn't get anything done. You lack the ability

to channel all that misguided rage. All you are is brute force, and

that isn't going to be enough for you against someone like myself

and B2. And I'm no stranger to taking down the big tough guys.


Just ask Tilmaio...if you can find him.


Which leads me to the apparent brains of the operation. When I

heard that the MWA was going to be graced with another talent

trained by the great Glenn Braddock, I was really looking forward

to it. Then I saw her match with Kacy Knight. I said to myself,

"There is no way this woman could have possibly been trained by

Braddock. We really need to check all these references when people

apply." You came in guns blazing with your Sic Semper Tyrannis banner,

only to be stopped by Kacy Knight.


When you wage war and lose the first battle, it speaks volumes for

your cause. It took me two months to find someone in the MWA with

the ability to contain me, and it was Glory Braddock. She proved to

me that she was the warrior that she said she was. When someone

gets a victory over Maximum Violence, it's not something they take

for granted. That's because they know that when they face me, they

are getting every last drop of fight I have in my body. That is what

I bring with me every night I step out there to do what it is I do so

well: Battle.


I know what you are capable of, Sophie. You couldn't have possibly

left London without any of that wrestling knowledge imparted to you. I do

hope that you held onto some of it. Being smart will only get you

close to victory. If you don't have the power and warrior

mentality to back it up, you're just spinning tires in the mud. Maybe if

we could just smash the two of you together, we might end up with

one fairly decent wrestler. Don't know how aesthetically pleasing

you would be to the eye, but you'd be just good enough where you

won't have to help tear down the ring after the show.


However, after BattleZone, you might need the extra money...


Believe that.