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Jacob Trance

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The scene opens in a well lit room, it’s almost too well lit. A blinding white light burns everything the same colour, that is until a television screen turns on. With its sudden burst into life, the lights are killed, the pale light from the video the only source of illumination.


On it, is repetitive footage of John Carter being buckle bombed in Jacob Trance’s first match back, the screen changes again, this time showing the chokeslam he delivered to the CCW Champion, Antonio Everett.


The TV screen dies as suddenly as it came to life, the lights of the room return, only less harsh. A rattling breath accompanies it as a figure sits on a lone chair, smoking a cigar. The figure is that of the mastodon, Jacob Trance.


Trance: Why… Why… Why… Why… It’s just one of those redundant questions at this point, it’s like you're building a very boring wall, brick, by brick, by brick. The thing about walls is that there’s always the chance someone barges their way through it, just like I barged my way through the orderly queue waiting to face good ol’ Tony. Then there’s all these rumours, these innuendos and accusations as to why I’m not interfering in my son’s business.


Jacob chuckles.


Trance: It’s his business, that’s your simple answer. I’m sure he’ll be fine, everyone else has to go it alone, so he’s nothing different. The Tony thing though, I suppose I should give you all some sort of explanation, even though it’s obvious I’m bored training the next generation and I’m just greedy for championship titles. Though… There’s probably another reason, something underlying… That true reason that you’re all wanting to hear.


Jacob drops his cigar, grinding it into the floor with his foot to extinguish it.


Trance: I mean, why did I show up on Ambition… Was it pent up frustration? Anger? Was it a message that made me try to wipe John Carter off of the face of the earth? Maybe it’s all linked, maybe it’s not… What do the numbers mean, all of that jazz… However… I’ll give you an answer on RIOT…


Jacob stands and goes to leave, the camera pans and follows him through the door.


Trance: Or maybe I won’t… Maybe I won’t even show up, guess you’ll need to see how it plays out…


The door clicks shut, the lights dim, and the television comes back to life, simply repeating the tape from before as the scene fades out.

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