“Thanks for agreeing to meet me, folks.”

An expectedly well-dressed Clancy McClean sits behind his antique oak desk in his office within the GZW2K1 Towers. On the far side of his desk, a middle-aged couple share a seemingly out-of-place leather couch. Both are smartly, if a little conservatively, dressed and sport matching “CMC-VIP” tags around their necks. The husband clears his throat a little before speaking up, his tone a lot more muted and nervous than he probably had intended.

“Not at all, Mr. McClean… We're only half an hour down the road, anyway – Right, Barb?”

His wife, ‘Barb' immediately nods her head. McClean smiles.

“Please, call me Clancy. That's great to hear, though… At the end of the day, we're all hear for the well being of young-”

McClean's eyes widen as he stops dead, mid-sentence.

“Bud.”

The Renaissance Man clicks his fingers at the husband, clearly having regained his composure.

“Of course – Bud. Little Bud Hastings. Your son… I've gotten you out here for the sake of Bud's well being.”

The couple, whom we can now assume to be the parents of the minor assaulted by Reject on Crimson, Bud Hastings, nod their heads in polite unison. McClean grins a slimy grin before clasping his small, pudgy hands together.

“Mister and Missus Hastings, I don't like to waste people's time. I certainly don't like to waste the time of two Americans as fine and upstanding as yourselves. With that said, I'll cut right along to the chase, here… With all due respect – and believe me, there's plenty of that – I think you're making a grave mistake!”

The Hastings look at each other nervously. With the wherewithal of an expert salesman, McClean capitalises on the opening.

“One word – Reject.”

“Oh, Mr. McClean-”

“- Clancy . Go on.”

“Clancy , all of our troubles with Reject our behind us. It's all been sorted, there's really no need to take it any further.”

“On the contrary, Ma'am… I assure you that there's every need to pursue the matter further! Believe me when I tell you that this Reject is nothing but trouble. To be frank, folks – He's a scumbag. What he did to your soon was just the chip of the proverbial ugly tooth of exactly what he's capable of. I know all of this from experience. I was his manager and agent, I know better than anyone …”

“I beg your pardon, Clancy. Barb wasn't doubting your-”

Clancy raises a reassuring palm at Mr. Hastings.

“Relax, sir. I know, I know. Don't fret in the slightest. As I was saying , though, I know this piece of garbage as well as anyone this side of the Atlantic. I know what to expect from him. He's a crafty one, let me tell you. You think all of this ugliness is over? Knowing him, this is just the BEGINNING ! He's out for one thing and one thing only. That, my friends, is to exploit your good nature for all it's worth. ‘Inconsiderate, subhuman scum' does not do this bastard justice – If you'll excuse my French .”

“It's quite alright, Clancy, but you've got to understand that as far as we're concerned, this is over. The lawyers assured us of that.”

“Lawyers, Schmoyers. We're talking about a guy that was so out of it on Godknowswhat that he pulled a knife on me !!! I was his manager at the time, for Chrissakes!!!”

An automatically concerned Mrs. Hastings tugs at her husband's jacket and speaks softly to him.

“They didn't tell us that, George…”

McClean quickly cuts in before Mr. Hastings can.

“Well they wouldn't, Barb. Can I call you Barb?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Barb, I hate to drop a reality bomb on you, but they make it their business not to tell you that sort of stuff… Do you get my drift? Of course you do. These lawyer types, they're after one thing – Money. Their big thing is a little thing called ‘appeasement' . You know what that means, right? Right. Anyway, bottom line – They're not to be trusted… Visa vie – Neither are their two-bit out of court settlements. Really, as an objective outsider, I'm telling you that you're being played for the fools that you aren't . You two deserve far much more than that. Your son deserves far much more than that. Look at it this way. A hard working couple with an only child-”

“Actually, we've got three kids – Two boys and-”

“-and a girl, right. Yeah. Forget that for a minute. Your kid goes to a GZW show… PAYS to go to a GZW show, see his favourite wrestlers in action… Comes home in an ambulance . Something doesn't quite add up, my friends.”

“Really, Clancy, it's fine. We've already been paid back more than the cost of the medical bills; we want nothing more than to forget the whole thing. We're willing to forgive-”

Clancy sighs a sigh of false defeat.

“OK… You win. It's clear to me how you feel about the situation. Out of respect to you, I'm not going to shove my opinion down your throats. I've offered you my expertise on the situation when you clearly don't require it. That's fair enough. I'm not going to argue with you on that one.”

An awkward silence ensues. The Hastings look at each other and then at Clancy. McClean says nothing, clearly waiting for them to speak.

“We… We've got a lunch appointment in the city, and-”

“-Say no more, my good man. It was nice meeting the two of you. Just too bad we couldn't see eye to eye. Oh well… I'll see you out.”

McClean stands up in his chair. The couple follow suit. McClean extends his right hand to shake Mr. Hastings', and the two lock hands.

“Before you go, actually… There was one thing I wanted to mention to you.”

Clancy releases his grip.

“Oh… Yeah?”

“Yeah. You see, I know that you're satisfied with the outcome of the case and the settlement… That's you guys off the hook as far as that psychopath, right? What was it, a fifty foot restraining order?”

“Forty-five.”

“Forty-five feet? Wow. Congratulations. Well, you see the thing is, Reject's suspension is to be lifted directly following this week's episode of Crimson.”

Still standing awkwardly, the Hastings appear unsure of how to react.

“…And who's to say we won't see a repeat of last time? Or WORSE . How would you guys feel if the exact same thing happened to another kid this week? What if it was a younger kid? Or some old granny? Or a retard? How would you feel then?”

“Uhm, well, I'm not quite sure that…”

“Alright, that didn't come out right. How about I put it to you like this – How would you, the Hastings, feel to be celebrated as the people that put an end to the volatile, loaded gun that is Reject? How would it feel to be the people that stopped a potential tragedy before it even had the chance to strike?”

“Well…”

“It'd feel pretty damn good, I'd say… Am I right or am I right?”

The couple look at each other and confer a little. McClean dusts down his suit whilst waiting.

“I suppose it would, Clancy… But really, I don't think you're asking the right two people here. What can we do to help your cause?”

“More than you'd think, Mr. Hastings. More than you'd think. Please, take a seat.”

“But we had-”

“Reservations. Bingo. Whatever you were gonna have, my in-house chef'll whip it up twice as nice… Please, make yourselves at home. We've got a lot more to cover…”

On that conveniently inconclusive bombshell, the scene fades out.