“Nicholas William Wilson. You have a visitor.”

Monday. November 18th. 1:34pm. A grey sky casts a shadow over the The Northern State Penitentiary in Newark, New Jersey. The rain outside taps relentlessly against the narrow glass windows as those inside the visitor’s hall wait patiently for a brief moment to see their loved ones, family members and defendants. A low murmur of voices rises and falls, broken only by the occasional clink of a door opening, signalling the arrival or departure of guards or inmates. Tormented families with snivelling children huddle around the reinforced divide. While broken hearted lovers sit nervously biting their finger nails, waiting to be reunited with the ones they swore they’d wait an eternity for. The clock on the wall ticks away the minutes, each one stretching out as they wait, their hopes tied to the brief moments of connection they'll have with those who know reside behind the bars.

The inmates begin to slowly file in one by one. Their dull khaki jumpsuits a striking contrast to the grubby green blazer that sits fidgeting at the far end of the hall. The camera moves closer, as the room begins to hum with subdued chatter. Dewey Donovan wriggles around restlessly in his seat. Constantly sticking his neck out to look back down the hallway, while wrestling to loosen the knot in his black tie. The heavy, iron clad door at the end of the hallway swings open, as two hench looking guards walk through into the room. Their hands poised on the black batons that hang from their belts. Behind them stands Nick Gage.

A hush falls over the room, as the inmates pause their conversations to look back over their shoulders; watching the two guards lead Gage down the hallway to his seat. While walking with a swagger, some of the inmates choose to acknowledge him, while others skulk in his presence. Gage takes a seat. Providing Dewey with a subtle nod for a greeting, before picking up the receiver, as Dewey does the same.


Dewey: “How you holding up Nick?”

Gage: “Same shit, different day. You know how it is. Whats up with you?”

Dewey: “Well, I have good news. Your lawyer says you’ll be out of here any day now. The guy who’s face you mangled back in Philly, he’s decided not to press charges.”

Gage: “Chump. If I had a dime for every time some jerk off came up to me in a bar, to try telling me wrestling was fake - Hell Dewey, you and I, we’d be making a killing down in Atlantic City right about now. But I guess our luck just wasn’t in that night and I ain’t ever backed down from a fight. Never will!”

Dewey: “But there’s something else.”

Gage: “Well damn Dewey, cut to the chase. I ain’t got all day!”

Dewey: “ECW! Barely Legal!”

Gage: “Ah Dewey, I seen that shit 700 times already. Sabu and Taz finally settling the score. Terry Funk winning the title. You know me and Justice grew up watching that shit at 2 in the morning on our crappy ass TV. ECW’s the whole reason I even got into this business. There was nothing like. Still gets me going just thinking about it. So, what about it?”

Dewey: “It’s back Gage! ECW, it’s BACK!”

The guards quickly converge around Nick. Towering over him as if there could be a problem.

Gage: “Chill Dewey, chill. You’re gonna start another riot up in here..”

Diluting the situation, the guards back off. Gage pulls his chair closer to the perspex glass that separates the two, pressing his index finger against it, pointing back at Dewey. A jagged, toothless grin forms across his bristly, war torn face.


Gage: “Dewey, did I hear you right? Did you say…ECW is back?”

Dewey: “I’m telling you Gage! I spoke to em. They wanted someone Hardcore. They wanted someone who’s Extreme.”

Gage: “Nah, I ain’t any of that.”

Dewey: “That’s what I told em. I told em, if they wanted Nick Gage, then Ultra-Violence is what they can expect!”

Gage: “So this aint no rib? You’ll really serious? Well aint that something. Paul Heyman’s finally come to his senses. The King of the Deathmatch in ECW. I don't think he really knows what he's letting himself in for.”

Dewey nods enthusiastically in approval.

Gage: “You know we’re gonna hurt some people right Dewey? We’re gonna hurt some people real bad. Hell, we might even have ourselves another "David Arquette" incident on our hands. But in ECW, where there are no rules, it’s all legal. Time to bring a little Ultra-Violence back to Philly and show them all who The Man really is around here.”

Dewey begins to rub his hands together with glee. “You’re the man!”

Security Guard: “5 more minutes guys…5 more minutes”

Gage: “You tell Heyman, it’s on! The H8 Club is coming to ECW and they’re gonna have a massacre on their hands, if I have anything to do with it…I’ll be out of here in a minute…and when I do, no one is safe!”

Dewey: “MDK brother!”

Gage: “…MDK!”

Clink. The phone line goes dead. Dewey and Gage bump fists against the glass, before he guards move in to escort Gage back down the hallway to his cell.