A red light comes on, illuminating a photo development lab. Everything looks as if it were a black and white film. Photo chemicals sit in tubs, and the smell of fumes engulf the camera man. He pans around the room, in a panic-before landing the camera on a man. He’s sitting on the counter, against the wall. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, and a t-shirt. His hair is hanging over his face, as he is staring down at the ground. There are clotheslines criss-crossing the room. You can see the backs of photographs hanging from clothespins.
“I pose a question, an idiom, a riddle if you will. How many are they worth to you?” he asks-with his head now leaning against the black brick wall. “How many words is a picture worth to you?” he asks again, looking at the shaky cameraman. He smirks as he climbs down from the counter, and looks at one of the hanging photographs. “Every drug addict has a reason for their affliction, a cause for their addiction. They hold logic behind their self imposed prison. What was yours Jason? I know the answer, because I was there. You lost yourself Jason, you lost yourself to despair, to agony, to wallowing in your own self pity. You gave into the drugs, you gave into a life of self destruction-and you paid the price.” He adds, smiling. “I used to ask myself everyday-Why? It’s a question that plagued me more times than most. Why? Why did a man who I respected, whom I looked up to-forsake his family. We were there to help you Jason-and we still are!” he exclaims, with a smirk. He pulls a picture off the drying rack, and holds it to the camera. It shows a picture of Jason Parker Olesen passed out on a bathroom floor. A bottle of pills lay spilled across the tile next to him-and a bottle of Jack Daniels lay on the edge of the counter-empty. Part of its contents spilled across the floor and over a lifeless body, part of it-surely in the stomach of its victim.
“There it is Jason-The Hood himself. This is how I found you on that warm May afternoon, passed out, dead to the world in a pool of piss, vomit, and whiskey.” He adds-throwing the picture down. “I was there to help save you Jason, I called John, I called Lillith, we all agreed you needed help. You were in a drug induced coma. The doctor told us that you had about a 25% chance of waking up. Even so-if you did wake up, the Jason we knew would almost certainly be dead. That’s why we made the announcement, that’s why we told the world. To us, Jason Parker Olesen-the man who sacrificed everything for PWX, the man who mortaged his house to save PWX, the man who fought the good fight for so many years-he was dead.” He adds with a frown.
“I don’t know how it happened-but somehow to you Jason, I’ve become the bad guy. It doesn’t make any sense really. With you gone-and with PWX falling the cesspool of filth that John Ojeda was bringing it too-I knew I had to react. I knew I had to do something. I was the only one holding up your ideals for PWX. Ojeda wasn’t, Tweeder wasn’t, Zion wasn’t, Hollywood wasn’t. Ojeda and Tweeder tried to make PWX soley about them. Hell-even our own brother was in on it. He needed to be kicked in the head a few times too. Zion and Hollywood were too busy playing DX with a pair of clowns. PWX needed to be pulled back, and brought back under your vision-and damnit Jason, I was the ONLY PERSON in this company who saw that. I took an opportunity, and I capitalized on it. I won the World Championship-and despite Darin’s interference-I carried it with pride, and honor, and passion. I was the hero of the story, and for some reason Jason, you have me written as the villain in this little book of break ups.” He adds, leaning back against the wall.
“To Jason, he’s the risen messiah. Something happened to you in that coma. Your brain gave up-and created this fantasy about being captured by terrorists. I don’t know how to help you any more Jason. To you-I’m The Joker-to your Dark Knight. This entire time-as a brother-I’ve only been trying to help you, help yourself.” He adds, throwing the picture down to the floor-before looking back at the camera. “I’m not here to hurt the Family-no, that damage has already been done. Like a murder in the dark-that deed has already been committed Daniel. Not by me, but by the man who formed the Family to begin with….by you Jason!” He says, with distain in his voice., while grabbing another photograph off the line. He looks at it, and chuckles. He holds the picture up to the camera, and we see a picture of James, Jason and John-sitting at a table together with miles on faces and drinks in hands.
“These days are long gone Jason. In just 24 hours, I will step inside the ring, wrapped in Razor Wire-and I will put an end to this. You’re not well, and you need help. The Family has been destroyed Jason…..” he begins, before lowering the picture and pulling a lighter out of his pocket. “The days of happiness are gone. Jason-your fate, and the fate of the Family is mine to decide. At Never Say Die, it does in fact…all come down to this…” he adds, lighting the photograph on fire and tossing it to the ground. The camera fades out on the burning picture.