07-03-2025, 04:05 PM
Scene 4 – SCW Gym, Post-Promo
The shattered mirror still glints in pieces on the gym floor. Sal Darius, fresh off his unhinged promo, tosses the dumbbell aside and heads toward the showers—dripping with sweat and pride.
But then—
Franklin Mack (off-screen): "Hey, kid!"
Sal pauses. He turns around slowly, dropping his shades just enough to flash his signature smirk.
Sal: "Ohh, the legend —Franklin Mack."
Franklin Mack, dressed in a sharp suit and polished shoes, storms toward him. A former wrestling icon turned SCW road agent, Franklin doesn’t look amused.
Franklin: "No. Stop. Cut the bullshit. You damaged SCW property—and you’re gonna pay for it."
Sal (grinning): "How much?"
He slides his aviators fully down, revealing the whites of his eyes like he's daring Franklin to throw hands.
Franklin: "Let me tell you something—never do that again. This is your warning. You pull another stunt like that? You're DONE here. Got it?"
Sal: "Sir! I sold it with that promo. Come on. That mirror already paid for itself. I was printing ratings in real time."
Franklin: "No you didn’t, you piece of sh*t! Don’t forget—if SCW hadn’t taken you in, you’d be another washed-up freak on the streets of LA or Chicago, full of dope and regret."
Sal (stepping closer): "Ohhh, if we’re going there, then let me remind you—I still fight. I’m still in this. While you hide your real self behind a suit, playing janitor for dumbbells you can’t lift anymore!"
Franklin (furious): "HOW DARE YOU!? HOW DARE YOU!?"
Voices explode. The two men go nose-to-nose, yelling at the top of their lungs. Moments later, SCW security rushes in. They wedge themselves between the two before fists start flying. Tension still sizzles in the air.
Sal (pointing past the guards): "You want to fight, Franklin? Step in the ring.
But remember—suits don’t win fights. Freaks do."
Franklin was left fuming with a red face, while Sal was dragged by the security to end the chaos.
The shattered mirror still glints in pieces on the gym floor. Sal Darius, fresh off his unhinged promo, tosses the dumbbell aside and heads toward the showers—dripping with sweat and pride.
But then—
Franklin Mack (off-screen): "Hey, kid!"
Sal pauses. He turns around slowly, dropping his shades just enough to flash his signature smirk.
Sal: "Ohh, the legend —Franklin Mack."
Franklin Mack, dressed in a sharp suit and polished shoes, storms toward him. A former wrestling icon turned SCW road agent, Franklin doesn’t look amused.
Franklin: "No. Stop. Cut the bullshit. You damaged SCW property—and you’re gonna pay for it."
Sal (grinning): "How much?"
He slides his aviators fully down, revealing the whites of his eyes like he's daring Franklin to throw hands.
Franklin: "Let me tell you something—never do that again. This is your warning. You pull another stunt like that? You're DONE here. Got it?"
Sal: "Sir! I sold it with that promo. Come on. That mirror already paid for itself. I was printing ratings in real time."
Franklin: "No you didn’t, you piece of sh*t! Don’t forget—if SCW hadn’t taken you in, you’d be another washed-up freak on the streets of LA or Chicago, full of dope and regret."
Sal (stepping closer): "Ohhh, if we’re going there, then let me remind you—I still fight. I’m still in this. While you hide your real self behind a suit, playing janitor for dumbbells you can’t lift anymore!"
Franklin (furious): "HOW DARE YOU!? HOW DARE YOU!?"
Voices explode. The two men go nose-to-nose, yelling at the top of their lungs. Moments later, SCW security rushes in. They wedge themselves between the two before fists start flying. Tension still sizzles in the air.
Sal (pointing past the guards): "You want to fight, Franklin? Step in the ring.
But remember—suits don’t win fights. Freaks do."
Franklin was left fuming with a red face, while Sal was dragged by the security to end the chaos.