The little plastic balls inside the tumbler roll one over the other right over the other, as the crank is turned round and round. We pull away from the close-up on the little instrument to find Jeremy McMillion wearing that typical arrogant expression as he looks toward the entrance to his office. As the door is heard swining shut, McMillion stops rotating the tumbler’s handle and rubs his hands together a big�?as Ryan FOCKin Cain enters the scene and all the fans in the arena can be heard in their explosion of appraisal.
Jerm: Ah, Ryan Cain�?W2K is so glad to have you taking part in Anarchy this year.
Ryan just stares at Jerm stoically, obviously not too stoked about having to go through this.
Ryan: After the crap that happened at Valentine, this is just one more match I have to go through before I can get to that gold, McMillion.
Jerm looks sarcastically taken aback.
Jerm: Oh, Ryan, don’t be so-�?/FONT>
Ryan: Just shut up so I can do this.
McMillion’s eyebrows raise and he lifts his hands, palms out as if to say “if you say so,�?and takes a couple steps back. Ryan steps up to the tumbler and pulls it open on top. With a sigh, looking down into all the little capsules, he reaches his hand inside and, after some rustling, pulls one out. Gazing down at it in his hand for a moment, he glances over at McMillion, who quickly wipes the obvious smirk off his face. Ryan cracks the ball open and unrolls the piece of paper inside, almost immediately closing his eyes and shaking his head disappointedly�?but almost like he was expecting it. Jerm’s smirk has become an asinine grin behind Ryan.
Ryan: You know, Jerm�?a couple years ago, I would’ve stood here and thought my luck had just taken a turn for the worst. But after all I’ve been through, and after I’ve come to know you the way I do�?I’m not even surprised. Let’s try something.
He crumples the paper up in his fist and throws it aside before reaching back inside the tumbler and pulling out another ball�?as Jerm just stares on in wide-eyed shock. Ryan cracks it open and pulls out the piece of paper, looking down at it.
Ryan: Number one.
He pulls another, opening it.
Ryan: Number one.
Again.
Ryan: Number one.
One more time, and this time, Ryan just grins out of anger and shakes his head.
Ryan: Number focking one.
Violently, Ryan shoves the tumbler off its decorative table and the plastic balls roll all over the place as Ryan turns to the Jerm, getting right in his face and breathing heavily in his rage.
Ryan: Did you expect this to catch me off guard, McMillion?!? Don’t you think I would’ve started *expecting* crap like this a long time ago? I walked in that door, and I already knew what was going to happen, because you’re the most obnoxiously predictable piece of garbage I’ve ever dealt with! So you really want me to walk out there as the number-one entrant? That’s focking fine with me. That just means I’ll have to embarrass the entire damn roster, and after I win, no one will be able to say I don’t deserve it. Not you, not Mitchell, not Dangerously�?focking *nobody*! So I’ll take this number, McMillion�?/FONT>
He holds it up on Jerm’s face�?and then lowers it down by his side, slipping it into his pocket.
Ryan: �?and I’ll put it in my pocket. I’ll go into Anarchy at the beginning, and I’ll fight until the bitter, bloody focking end. After all, I wrecked the hell out of the last one, and everyone knows it�?this’ll just be further proof that no one- focking NO ONE outperforms me in big match situations.
Ryan flinches toward Jerm, who jumps back a bit.
Ryan: Give Nic my sentiments.
And with that, Ryan walks away, out of the scene�?and Jerm just watches him go, apparently not so sure about his “great�?idea.
We switch to a camera in the hallway outside the office, just in time to see Ryan step through the door and let it shut behind him. Still all fired up, he stomps down the hall.
“And then the hooker gave the money *back*! True story.�?/FONT>
Ryan stops abruptly upon hearing this, looking to the side�?and smirking.
Ryan: Felix�?/FONT>
FTN looks up from his conversation kinda surprised�?and turns to meet Ryan, who’s approaching him.
Ryan: You’re competing in Anarchy, aren’t you?
FTN looks a little confused like “why the hell is Ryan Cain talking to me about this?�?Because, well�?it really doesn’t make sense.
FTN: Uh�?yeah.
Ryan: Have you picked your number?
FTN: �?Yeah.
Ryan: Man, did you get jipped, too? I just left Jerm’s office, and, apparently, I’m not gonna be able to go out there until the focking match is almost over. How lame is that?
FTN’s eyebrows narrow dramatically like “wtf?!?�?/FONT>
FTN: Uh�?not lame at al-�?/FONT>
Ryan: Oh, come on. I mean, thanks for making me feel better�?but seriously. There’s no real bright side to this.
Ryan’s inflection is real cheesy and unconvincing�?but FTN is an idiot. Ryan puts his hands on his hips with a sigh.
Ryan: Maybe I can find someone that will trade with me.
FTN’s eyes open up super wide.
FTN: �?I’ll trade you, Ryan.
Ryan gasps.
Ryan: You will?!?
FTN: Yeah, Ryan�?/FONT>
He nods.
FTN: �?I will.
Ryan excitedly pulls the number out of his pocket.
Ryan: What do you want for it??
FTN: Just the number is fi-�?/FONT>
Pulling his right hand out of his other pocket, Ryan holds up�?/FONT>
Ryan: I got NED’s car keys.
�?a ring of keys.
Ryan: It’s just a Viper, but�?/FONT>
FTN about creams himself.
FTN: That’ll do fine, Ryan. Just fine.
Ryan: Score!
Ryan gives Newman the keys and the number, and FTN hands over his number as Ryan shakes his hand eagerly.
Ryan: Thanks so much, bro. I owe you huge.
FTN: It’s nothing, Ryan, really. Don’t even worry about it.
Hurriedly, Ryan walks away�?and turns a corner, putting on a sly smirk just before FTN’s voice is heard from a distance.
FTN: WHAT THE-?!?
Ryan looks very happy with himself, having outsmarted the Jerm, as he unfolds the number in his hand and looks down at it.
The smirk quickly disappears.
Ryan: FOCK!!
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