[We open on a quiet suburban neighborhood in the middle of the day. A stray automobile passes by, crossing paths with a bicycling paperboy. The sound of laughing children filter the distant airwaves, soon joined by the voice of “The Enforcer”.]
On March Twenty Seventh Maxwell Cook, Jacob Redfern and Jakob Woodruff climbed out of passage of a Two Thousand Seven Ford Escape at around Twelve Thirty in the afternoon.
It was a quiet day in the Tulsa, Oklahoma suburb of Broken Arrow. Yet this group had anything but quiet intentions.
Armed with a combat knife and brass knuckles, the three men pulled black masks over their faces to match their black clothing and they approached the home of Zachary Peters knowing his elderly father was the only one present.
They were there to do damage. They were there to take what they wanted. They were there at any cost!
[And then we see him. Kersh. Alone. Calmly strolling along the white washed pathway that is the street sidewalk. His focus does not appear to be on our presence; nevertheless, when he speaks it is certain who the audience is.]
You’re familiar with the tactic are you not Jensen Cussen? DTR? For the weeks and the months have passed slowly in that this virus born of “The Family” has invaded the halls of Old School Wrestling.
Your malice and deceit falling upon what many of us here might call “home”. You come not with mask covered faces but shadow filled souls.
Your mission? To do damage in the form of catastrophic consequences to the reality of the world. To take what you want in the form of gold belts and hollow victories. And at what cost? Of your person. Of your daughter!
[Brent now glances back to us. His movement halting. The corner of his mouth curling in a small grin. His eyes making contact with our positioning. And in a confident tone…]
They were wrong!
There was not just a broken old man left to guard the sanctity of the home, no. There was an enforcer. Zachary Peters, by chance, was present that day and when the invaders broke their way into the home they were met with opposition.
When the police surveyed the home several minutes later, they found one of the assailants lying cold in the driveway just outside the home and the other two lifeless in puddles of blood upon the kitchen floor.
Their invasion was cut short for they did not concede to the fact that they had brought a knife to a gunfight!
They picked the wrong house on the wrong day!
[Turning now; his shoulders square to our perspective. Brent’s eyes squint and he exhales a deep breath of resentment through his nose. The anger bubbling to the surface.]
You came to my home DTR. Jensen Cussen. With vile intentions in your heart you expected to be met by a broken old man who could no longer protect the value within.
You… were wrong!
Instead of that old man you have been met by an enforcer! “The Enforcer”. And like Zachary Peters I cannot be held responsible for the result to come.
You attacked my family. You lusted after my disposition. The consequences for which will be severe. For in this invasion there will be no opportunity for retreat!
[Kersh lowers his head. A moment of calm coming over him. His shoulders relaxing and his chest slowing to expand and contract. And following a small pause, Brent slowly looks upward once more; an ICE COLD stare covering his face.]
It’s not the ranch. I’m not talking about the Kersh family home in Beaumont, Texas that you invaded. I’m talking about my family’s real home. The Tap Room in Miami, Florida!
[“The Enforcer” extends his hand away from him; his finger pointed to the sky in a direction that we are quick to follow. His voice trailing in the foreground as the view pans first to a suburban aerial and then to a bustling metropolitan.]
Because when those lights illuminate that arena, when the crowd rises to their feet, and when you hear the sound of “Chariots of Fire” across the loud speakers. You’ll know whose home you have invaded!
You picked the wrong house on the wrong day!
Of course, I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know!
[And as Brent’s voice fades into the airwaves so too begins the fade of our view. A perspective that traveled the distance of the suburb, cutting through the concrete maze that is the city and ultimately resting upon the now empty Tap Room before ending in darkness.]