"The Canadian Classic" Explains his Actions

A camera is set up in The Un-American's locker room. Scott "The Hunter" Manson sits in the center of the room on a chair, as The Zilla Killa paces the room back and forth behind him. Manson has his head down, focused on the floor.

Manson: You know ever since Tuesday all I've been getting is the same question. "Why Scott, why?" Why would I come down to the ring with a sledgehammer and attack Mask of Fury after his match with Zilla Killa? And to be honest, I don't know why. I've never been one to jump somebody from behind before and I sure as hell have never been one to back down from a fight.

Manson looks up and stares into the camera with a sadistic smirk on his face.

Manson: But it would appear that Mask of Fury and Father Lance Goodison have brought out the worst in me. See I don't know what's worse, the fact that on Tuesday Night I almost ended Mask of Fury's career, or that fact that I don't give a damn! You may have beaten Zilla Killa on Tusday Mask, but the war is far from over. You see when Zilla Killa and I formed The Un-Americans, I thought I could train Zilla Killa to help me in my quest for domination, but I was wrong. Instead it is Zilla Killa who has trained me. His has taught me that there is another side to me, a sick side, a violent side. And you know what? I like it! You see Zilla Killa and I feed off of each other's energy in that ring. I've taught him to be hungry for gold, and he's taught me to be thirsty for blood! Mask of Fury, you've awakened the devil inside of me on Tuesday and I don't think he's going to go away any time soon. And Father Lance, I have an extra special gift for you. Bring him out!

Zilla Killa walks off camera and returns carrying a little boy over his shoulder. The boy is crying and screaming for help.

Manson: You remember Timmy don't you Lance? The little boy backstage just looking for an autograph? Well, what do we have here?

Manson snatches a picture out of the boys hand. He takes a look at it. It is an autographed photo of Father Lance Goodison. Scott Manson rips the picture in two as Zilla Killa throws the boy onto the ground.

Manson: I want you to watch this very closely Lance. Because this is on your head!

Scott "The Hunter" Manson grabs the boys right leg and flips him into the half crab position, executing a MORTAL Canadian Maple Leaf. The boy is screaming in pain as Scott Manson stares at the camera, not holding anything back on the poor boy.

Manson:The pain he's feeling right now is nothing compared to the beating you two are going to get when we finally clash for the CFWA World Tag Team Championships. Father Lance, Mask of Fury, don't fear the future. Fear The Un-Americans!

Zilla Killa erupts into a sadistic laugh as he steps in front of Manson and motions his thumb across his neck at the camera as the screen goes black.

Mask of Fury is seen standing in the middle of the ring in a dark, empty arena.

"For years I've travelled the world and I have seen many things in this business everywhere I've been. I've seen giants toppled, legends teaching young up and comers the meaning of respect, brutal beatings of all kinds, cage matches, hell in a cell, even deathmatches. But never have I seen two grown men bullying a child. Is that what you are Scott Manson? I knew the Zilla Killa was insane and sadistic, but you, I thought you had some respect for this industry. I was wrong, you are nothing more than the Killa himself. Now Manson, you listen to me and you listen good. Zilla Killa needed to be stopped, yet you want to come to the ring swinging sledgehammers, so I tell you what. You better watch your back. You better watch your sides. And you sure as hell better watch out for what's in front of you, cuz I'm coming. And you won't see me coming. You will feel the Fury. Father Lance and I are out to end your bullying over CFWA."

The camera fades to black.

O Canada echoes throughout the arena as Scott "The Hunter" Manson makes his way to the stage where Mask of Fury is standing in the ring.

Manson: Ok Mask of Fury, you wanted me, you've got me. Here I am. You know I've been in this industry for a long time, and throughout my entire career there has always ever been one thing that I fought for, and that was the respect of my peers and the respect of these people. But I never got it. And do you know why? Because I'm a Canadian! I look around and you know what I see? No one. Just you. And so, out of RESPECT, Mask of Fury, I too have come alone. No tricks up my sleeve, no sledgehammer, just me. You question my motives, you question my respect for this industry? Who the hell do you think you are? What you saw was a rebirth! It was a revelation for "The Canadian Classic". I've got you right were I want you Mask. You see I wasn't just sending a message to you, I wasn't just sending a message to Lance I was sending a message to CFWA management and to every single wrestler in the back. And that message is simple. If you're not with me, then stay the hell out of my way! Because there is nothing that I won't do to get where I want to be in this business. So if that means that I have to stop playing Mr. Nice Guy, then so be it. If that means I have to align myself with the likes of The Zilla Killa, then so be it. If that means I have to start swinging around a sledgehammer, then so be it. And if that means I have to cripple a child to get your attention, then SO BE IT! I don't care! I fight for myself, my country and my partner. I don't fight for the respect of you or any of these people! Not anymore! Zilla Killa has made me realize that there are more important things to worry about. I am more focused now than I ever have been before, and there is NOTHING that you, Father Lance or anybody else can do to stop me when I'm focused. My waste is bare Mask of Fury, but not for long. Soon I'll have CFWA Tag Team gold to keep it company. In our tag match, you will kneel before me, or feel the consequences, courtesy of "The Canadian Classic!"

The camera views a long, plain, white corridor with several wide double doors on both sides. Bouncing slightly, as if someone is handling it manually, the camera moves forward, and passes two pairs of doors before it spins to the left and zooms in on a number tag on the third door: "106". A hand emerges from behind the camera's view, and gently pushes one half of the door inwards, and the camera glides into the room. In front of a window stands Father Lance Goodison. He doesn't see the camera at once, his gaze resting on something across the room from him, and he is nervously opening and closing his fists, his mind racing. Suddenly, he turns, pulls a heavy curtain in front of the window, and sits down on a folding chair. He looks oddly pale. CWFA interviewer Michael Hunt steps forward, a folding chair of his own in hand. Lance Goodison gives a startled gasp as Michael Hunt unfolds the chair with a loud crack.

Hunt: Hello, Mr. Goodison. I was told we might find you here. We didn't want to intrude, but you know, we figured you might want to talk to us. After Scott Manson's latest stunt and all...

Lance Goodison furrows his brow and looks down.

Lance: I... have nothing to say.

Michael Hunt looks bewildered, his eyes shifting from the camera, to Lance, and back to the camera.

Hunt: Is he... all right?

The camera pans around, viewing a hospital bed with a little boy sleeping peacefully in it. On one side, there is an intravenous drip stand connected to the boy's wrist, on the other side, a computer monitoring his heartbeat. The camera shifts back to Lance Goodison and Michael Hunt.

Lance: He'll be fine. Eventually. He said... he said that...

Father Lance struggles to swallow. He uncurls his fist, producing two wrinkled pieces of a torn photography.

Lance: Michael. I... have made a mistake. I thought... I thought that Scott Manson was in control. That was what it looked like to me. But The Zilla Killa was not quite the pawn I considered him. And look where it has gotten us. We're sitting by the hospital bed of a twelve year old boy who very nearly had his spine snapped because of my misinterpretation. It... hurts.

Lance Goodison carefully straightens the two sheets of glossy paper. He slides them into a pocket, and balls his fists again. The camera zooms in on them as they tremble slightly, the color of their knuckles slowly draining away.

Lance: I suppose Scott Manson will be happy with the message you will soon be bringing to him. If he did not have my full attention before, he does now. And... heavens have mercy... I wonder how smiling he will be when he is on the receiving end of something much more painful than the Canadian Maple Leaf: My rage. Right now, I find it hard to contain my anger. Right now, if I saw Scott Manson, he would not be safe. Right now, I want to seek them out, both of them, and leave them marred and broken... It frightens me. I must be strong. For Timmy, who I will give a tour of the CWFA once the Un-Americans have been vanquished for good, and for everyone else who might wind up hurt if nothing is done. I am glad I have a friend by my side in this battle. Thank you again, Mask of Fury, for your help. Michael? I would appreciate if you left me to my thoughts now.

Michael Hunt nods and clumsily stands up, knocking his chair down. Lance Goodison scowls at him.

Hunt: Sorry, Mr. Goodison. We'll leave you be. I hope everything turns out well for the kid. Good day, Mr. Goodison.

As Michael Hunt picks up his folding chair and prepares to leave, and as Father Lance once again slips into deep thought, the camera fades to black.

Zilla Killa's Music hits, and the lights go out, before Zilla's face appears on the screen.

Lance... or should I address you as Father? No matter. You say you're about to unleash your rage? Good. Let it out, my friend. Let it all out.

Zilla laughs, grinning evilly.

You see, we're not so different, you and I. You want to make me bleed, and I like that. The only real difference between us, is that you call the voices that motivate you "god" while I... I don't lie to myself. Your so called church has many interesting things in their past. The Crusades. Child-molesting priests... and they say I'm the crazy one!

Zilla laughs more, shaking his head

My friend Scott and I will give you what you want, a chance to taste our blood.

The camera fades to black, and Zilla Killa can be faintly heard "Let out the rage Father..."

The screen is black and slowly a dim light turns on. In the room Mask of Fury is ready to address the Un-Americans.

"So it has come down to this. Two uncontrollable elements teaming together with both thinking that they are leading the team. Well, it's time to put an end to that. Un-Americans, your end is near. At Shipwrecked, the good Father and myself shall bring Fury upon you like that no one has ever seen. And to put icing on the cake, the CFWA Tag Titles are on the line for the winners to claim. Someone is gonna make history and we won't let it be you. You run your mouths about blood and hurting people and it all stops at Shipwrecked. And you better hope and pray because I haven't seen or heard from Father Lance since his interview in the hospital room. And that doesn't bode well for either of you."

The light dies out and the screen go black again.