[Scene: Interior – Hospital Room. Late night. The frame is tight and uncomfortably close. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. A heart monitor beeps in time with Dane’s shallow breathing. His head is bandaged, the bruises are fresh, and the swagger is buried beneath pain and fatigue. The sequined robe is folded on a chair beside the bed—out of reach and, for once, out of mind. Eric Dane Jr. glares off-camera for a long moment before turning his eyes to the lens.]

ERIC DANE, JR.:
I ain’t gonna lie to you.

I ain’t gonna stand here in this hospital bed with gauze on my head and pretend like I came out on top. That’d be bullshit, and we both know it. Chris Ross didn’t just hit me. He introduced himself to me—fist first, boot second, and bad intentions from bell to bell.

[Junior pauses, considering his next words carefully.]

ERIC DANE, JR.:
I’ve been wrestling for what, three, four years? You’ve been banned from the sport for twice that long. And now you show up, wild-eyed, frothing at the mouth, yelling about justice like it’s owed to you? No one paid you any mind until you picked a fight with me.

That’s the truth, isn’t it?

You needed a spotlight, and you knew I had one. You needed a name, and you knew mine would echo louder than yours ever could. So you latched on. You took your shot.

[The younger Dane leans forward in bed. The camera creaks slightly as the angle shifts with the movement. His voice hardens, but it doesn’t rise.]

ERIC DANE, JR.:
I don’t blame you for what you did, Ross.

I know what it’s like to be starving. To be overlooked. To be told you're not good enough before you've even laced your boots. The difference is, I’m still earning everything I’ve got. I’ve bled for it. I’ve fought for it. And whether you or anybody else wants to admit it, I made my bones in that ring the hard way—by surviving you.

So, thank you.

Thanks for proving to the world that I can take a beating from a monster like you and still breathe.

Still stand.

Still talk.

But don’t get it twisted. This isn’t the start of your redemption story. It’s the start of mine. Because I’m not gonna stay down, Ross. I’m not gonna fade into the shadows like all the other “plastic boys” you love to scream about. You call me a product of the system? Fine. Then I’ll be the glitch that ends it.

You want a war?

You need a war. Because it’s the only thing keeping you relevant.

You’ll get it. You’ll get all of me. Not the robe. Not the legacy. Not the marketing machine. You’ll get the guy who finally realized that surviving you wasn’t the end of the fight. It was the beginning.

[He grabs the IV line and yanks it free, gritting his teeth as the machine behind him starts to scream. He looks into the camera one last time, eyes sharp. Alive.]

ERIC DANE, JR:
You wanna burn it all down, Ross? Well, pitter-patter, you overgrown, underdeveloped, smooth-brained pissbaby. I hope you brought enough matches.

Because this time, Ross...

I’m bringing the gasoline.

[Cut to black.]