No commentary tonight except that the people who gave Prisoners an 85% approval rating on Rotten tomatoes are on something. Here’s story number 3:

Blood flew from Bob’s nose as Ray’s knee connected with it. Bob staggered back, annoyed. Ray was taking a victory lap, which was true to his character,Baron Rodrick, the English Duke. What wasn’t part of the match was Bob’s now broken nose.
Bob turned to the ring post, sneezing the blood out of his nose. If this cost him TV time tomorrow, he was going to kick Ray’s head in. Might anyway, for making a screw up like that. Sure, mistakes happened in matches, but damn it, this was the third time this year. Maybe it was time to teach Ray a lesson.

Then Bob looked over to his corner, where Marie was standing. To everyone outside the business,they were Battling Bob and Mistress Mayhem. To him, she was everything. He was so distracted by her he almost forgot to duck when Ray flew into him. Ray slammed into the turnbuckle,and as he staggered out, Bob flung him across the ring, slamming him into the opposite corner. Bob smiled as he heard Ray hit the other side with a crack. Maybe that would teach him.

But here came Ray again, charging like a madman. This was a house show, not TV. Why was Ray going so hard. Sunday shows were supposed to build for Monday TV. Was Ray Juicing. He wrestled Ray so infrequently,it was hard to tell. Ray was younger, way down on the food chain. He’d done something to tick off the boss, and was jobbing to everyone in sight, which was causing his merch to gather dust at these shows. Baron Rodrick was boring, the dirt sheets were saying. Maybe Ray was trying to insert himself into Battling Bob’s storyline.

Not on Bob’s watch. Like most wrestlers, he knew the finish before he got in the ring. Tonight’s deal was for him to go over clean,without any problems. He and Marie would then drive over to Columbus for tomorrow’s live TV. Where he’d start a feud with Manta, aka Mark Du shay, also known as Marie’s ex-husband. Keeping it in the family while boosting their star was good for everyone all around.

Bob was thrown out of his figuring by Ray’s fist upside his head. Bob couldn’t understand it. Why was Ray doing this? It had to be drugs. Bob looked over at Burt, the referee,his eyes asking questions. Burt just shook his head, and looked away/ What was that about?Bob knew right there , he had to put a stop to this. He hated to do this in this YouTube age, with cameras everywhere, but Ray was flying way off the rails. As Ray kept swinging at him, he ducked down and punched him square in the balls.

That should have stopped any male on the planet,but not Ray. He roared,and headbutted Bob hard. Bob staggered back, his head ringing and everything going hazy for a second. He needed an out. He was already going heel tomorrow night, so the crowd wouldn’t be too surprised at what he did next. Marie and him had signals for every possible plan of attack. He took one index finger and circled his ear and then pointed down. Marie nodded, and reached under the ring. As Bob pushed off Ray,Marie came back up with a steel folding chair.

The reaction from the crowd was instant. Catcalls and boos echoed through the building, as Bob took the chair from Marie. Stuff like this was not supposed to go down in the post-concussion sports world, but Ray was not stopping, and Burt didn’t seem to care. Either drugs or a rat were involved here, and Bob had a good idea which drug dealing rat it was: Manta

One of the surprises Bob had coming up through the ranks was how upside down the backstage area of pro wrestling was to reality. What appeared random out there was planned, what everyone though was planned was free form, and most good guys were flaming assholes in real life.

Manta was no exception. Sure he’d had a great run ten years ago, but he was using a cocktail of supplements, hormones and painkillers these days. Apparently Ray was one of Stinger’s new “buddies”,using chemicals to get an edge.

Bob hated those things. He’d worked hard to get where he was at, and all those chemicals seemed like more trouble than they were worth. And they shrunk stuff, things Marie was fond of when they’d get a moment alone and awake. Bob was going to have a talk with Manta, AKA Eugene Dershowitz of Albany, tomorrow in Columbus.

But first,he had Ray to take care of. Bob gripped the chair like a bat,and swung for the fence. He was going to waste no more time screwing around with this putz. He hit Ray clear in the face, teeth spraying like rice. Ray collapsed like Enron stock, falling flat on the floor. Bob dropped the chair and glared at Burt, daring the referee to do something. Burt just shrugged then began counting Ray out. Bob began climbing out of the ring when everything went black.

He came to slowly, his ears ringing. He rolled on the mat, trying to get his bearings. Through the ringing, he could hear screams and yells. As he rolled , he felt something wet on his back, Looking over, he saw the referee laying in a pool of blood. Ray was turning Burt’s head into a cherry slushie, and the crowd was locked in horror. Where was Security. He staggered to his feet, appalled. Was this somehow planned? He looked over to the timekeepers table, and stared,eyes going wide with shock.

There sat Manta, holding a gun on the security squad. His eyes were glazed over, and one arm was flopping in the wind. The other Ray’s jaw was hanging from his mouth, blood pouring out. Bob’s brain connected the dots quick:PCP

He’d heard about it on the road. Animal trank, made you feel invincible. Most didn’t mess with it though, due to the psychosis in induced. Apparently the two Ray’s drug buddies had gotten them some, and Burt had paid the price.

Ray finished pulping Burt’s head and turned to Bob. Bob was hoping he’d stay focused on him but Ray then turned to where Marie was standing in the corner of the ring. Why hadn’t she run? Bob could hear people fleeing and screaming. She should have joined them. But she’d stayed true, and it might cost her her life tonight.
Bob had loved her from their first night on the road together. Eight hour drives had gone by in a haze with her. They were saving pennies, like every wrestler should. One bad match and this gig went away. Bob had a sinking feeling this was his and her’s end both.

Ray advanced on her, pulling down the straps on his tights. Good God, he thought. Ray was going to try that in the ring? Bob hated drugs more than he ever had anything in the world right then.

He pushed to his feet, dizzy as all hell,a plan coming together in his ringing skull. If he did it right, this could still end OK. One wrong step and bad was going to rain in here hard.

Bob grabbed Ray, not even trying to punch him. He threw him against the ropes, then ran behind him as he rocketed off the steel cables towards Manta. He had one chance to nail this.

Ray flew over the ropes, Bob close behind him. He hoped Manta was too out to notice the 500 pounds about to land on him. He hit hard onto the timekeepers table, his aim off a hair.

The shot exploded in Bob’s ear, and the pain in his chest staggered him. It broke the spell of the security crew, who pounced on Manta, beating him into oblivion. Bob laid there, the lights in the arena getting dimmer by the second.

Then she was there, raven curls around her face. Bob smiled, his last thought of her face sending him into oblivion happy.