Scene opens — Rayzah at home on a couch. He’s in basketball shorts and a plain dark t-shirt. One knee wrapped in a thick compression brace, an ice pack strapped to it with a towel. Crutches lean against the coffee table. The TV glows in the corner, paused on a replay of Ambition.)

 

Rayzah:
Home.
Not where I planned to be… but where life sat me down anyway.
Doc says I got a Grade 2 PCL sprain — knee bent the wrong way when Belakor drove me into that car door.
Ligament stretched like somebody tried to pull the truth outta me.

 

He adjusts the ice pack

 

Rayzah:
Belakor…
I shouldn’t be surprised at your actions.
You must still be mad about that little scuffle we had in the parking lot a few months back.
I don’t blame you — you really put a beating on me.
Guess I learned my lesson, right?
Guess I know now to leave you and DNS alone.
Time to move on…

 

He tilts his head — a tiny smirk.

 

Rayzah:
SIKE.
I lied.
When I’m cleared, best believe I’m coming back and headed straight for you and whoever’s standin’ next to you.
You. The Goozler. Bash.
Whoever else in your little dusty-ass crew wanna stand in the photo — line up.

 

He nods toward the TV — Hawk’s victory frozen on-screen.

 

Rayzah:
While I’m sittin’ here with ice packs and daytime cable…
I watched Jacob Hawk walk down to that ring alone and give you the education you been duckin’.
Beat you straight.
Beat you clean.
Beat you in a way that don’t need parking lots or shadows.

And the reward he gets?
A suspension.

 

Rayzah:
Let me say that again so the universe can hear it right:
Man drops me in a parking lot?
Silence.
Crickets.
Business as usual.

Man beats that same dude in a match with the whole world watching?
Now suddenly the rulebook wake up like it felt a cold breeze?
Now they clutchin’ pearls over an “illegal move”?

Come on, man.

 

Rayzah:
I’m out for “an undisclosed amount of time.”
Funny phrase.
Sounds official.
Really just means, “We don’t know when he’ll walk back through that curtain… but we know he will.”

Let me make that part clear:
This knee gon’ heal.
This pain gon’ fade.
But the memory of what you did, Belakor?
That stays fresh.
Like a wound the world keeps scratchin’ at.

 

Rayzah leans back — that faint smirk returning, not humorous… but inevitable.

 

Rayzah:
Hawk…
You ain’t wrong.
You ain’t reckless.
You ain’t dangerous.
They just scared of what happens when two men they can’t control start seein’ the world the same way.

Hold your head.
They can’t suspend truth.
And they damn sure can’t suspend what’s waitin’ outside their comfort zone.

 

He clicks the TV off with a remote, screen fading to black.

 

Rayzah:
And Belakor…
You didn’t finish nothin’.
You just guaranteed Chapter Two.

 

Fade out.

 

 

Take that shot at me and you best not miss.