“Keep the change, buddy,” Tyler Potts says, looking up at the massive glass- and steel structure before him.

The back door of a yellow taxi pops open in front of World Wrestling Alliance headquarters under the lovely Minnesota sun allowing Mr. Potts to exit and slide his black shades over his hazel eyes.  Around his neck and hanging over the front of his Oxford blue dress shirt is a badge that reads WRESTLEWORLD.net.  In his left hand is a shoulder bag that likely entails the young man’s laptop.  He rubs his fingers in the socket of his eyes and yawns, looking at his watch.

“Nine fifteen, on the money,” he smiles at the crowd rushing into the front doors of WWA’s main office then jerks his attention toward the ground.  Tyler shoves his free hand into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone that is vibrating.

“Hey, babe,” Tyler says genuinely.  “How’s my girl?”

Tyler fumbles around in his pocket, pulling out a piece of notebook paper while he listens in to the other, sweeter end of the conversation.

“Haha, you’re cute.  Even though it’s me who can’t sleep when you snore, we can pretend,” another smile comes over Potts’ 20-something year-old’s face.  “Oh, no, I got called in to work…”

A slight pause.  “Yeah, I’m in Minnesota now... Yeah, it is a long ways away.  Not too long, though.  I should be home by dinner tonight.  We still havin’ those salmon steaks?”

Just then a black Suburban with a sparkling fresh WWA emblem on the door reaches the curb.  It catches Tyler’s attention as he listens on.  “Good, good.  Look, baby, I’m gonna have to go.  I’ve got to get a good seat and get to work, alright?  I love you.”

The passenger door opens as a man wearing a black WWA dress shirt gets out and turns to the back door.  He pulls on the latch and holds it open, watching around for any potential security threats.  The man nods and from the back emerges a masked man wearing a pair of black dress slacks and a black sport coat.  A fantastic smile flashes from underneath the mask as he holds up his palms to the WWA building.

Tyler clicks the call dead and turns toward the entrance doors.  He holds up his PRESS badge and follows the cattle of reporters and writers into the Press Room.  The crowd begins to rumble and stir about as they make their way through the rows of chairs as the Press Conference is set to begin.  As Potts reaches his seat, he picks up the WWA Underground flyer detailing the night’s match ups and key storylines.

Just then, the doors at the front of the room swing open and a short, portly man who looks more like a politician than anybody involved in wrestling enters the room.  “Ladies and gentlemen, first and foremost, I want to thank you all for coming out today.  We will begin taking questions in a few minutes.  Before we do, however, we here at World Wrestling Alliance would like to knock two birds out with one stone.  People of the Press, please welcome…our latest addition!”

He gestures to the back of the room where that same man wearing a black WWA dress shirt is standing like a stone pillar.  He nods, and pushes the door open, bringing in the man in the mask into the conference room and into the spotlight for the first time.  Tyler wonders what exactly this guy’s face looks like as he scans his sheet for any ideas on who this guy is.  The mighty masked man makes his way down to the front of the room, smiling and shooting the friendly finger to the press.  He stands next to the podium and the much, much smaller man.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, we here at World Wrestling Alliance have built our reputation on recruiting, signing, and employing the best of the best, building a roster of talented and truly special wrestlers.  Our champions and contenders are the cream of the crop, the best in the world – a fact that remains undoubted and proven, year in and year out.  In order to add some fresher faces around the back and some younger talent, we are proud to present to you the latest member of the WWA family…Friar!”

The man in the mask smiles and pats the suit on the back with his grizzly paw.  He shakes his hand and smiles, posing to the cameras in the front rows.  Tyler Potts frantically writes down notes on his notepad and clicks some photos with a digital camera.

“Now, onto-“ before the short man can address the next issue, Friar slides his way in front of him and, ultimately, pushes him off to the side of the podium.  He is still smiling bright at the slightly clueless media.

“People, let’s give a round of applause for my translator, Mister Yamaguchi,” Friar shoots a proud glance at the short man, then back to the mass of reporters.  Putting his hands together to replicate thunder, Friar leads a thunderous applause for this brave soul, or so he would lead you to believe.

“Mister Friar,” a voice speaks up behind him.  The big man turns to see a small, Asian man in glasses, chuckling.  “I over here.”

Friar does a double take and then points at the short man who introduced him.  “Imposter!”

“No, no, sir.  I am Stan Grazinski,” he says adjusting his tie and jacket.  “Head of WWA New Hires Program.”

Without a flinch, Tyler Potts stands up, waving his notepad.  “Look, guys, can we do this later?  I need to be back in Pittsburgh for dinner and I’m sure a lot of these people have families to get home to.”

Friar looks on at the general consensus that, yes, most of them did want to get out of there.  He nods, and places both hands on each side f the podium.  “Exactly, Mister…”  Friar holds his open hand out to the now-sitting Potts.

“Potts.  Tyler Potts.”

Friar smiles, and nods.  “Yes, like Mister Potts said, we came here today for one reason – to mark the day the WWA was changed.  Not by how many belts they offer or how much money they make, but that they were smart enough to bring in a problem solver like myself in their darkest hour.”

Grumblings and groans come from around the room as many click record on their tape recorders and catch some shut eye.  Potts rolls his eyes and continues snapping photos and taking notes.  Friar rolls on, too.

“I understand in letting the ship right it’s course and taking care of business, everyday, but” Friar pauses, wondering why that sounds so weird.   “I, want to rock and roll, all night, and party every da- Jesus, Joseph!  These are song lyrics!”

“Fuckin’ interns!” a muffled voice croaks out loud.

“Look, people,” Friar’s palms hit the wood and the gesture strikes the attention of most of the room out of fear.  “I’ve got a lot of things I could say to you, a lot of things I could promise and swear, and a lot of things I can do to this guy in the front row who won’t stop texting while I’m talking – which presses so many buttons you’re better off not knowing – but the truth is I’m here for one reason.”

“I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of having to watch the WWA, professional wrestling’s mainstay, become the breeding ground for the scum of the sport and the trash of the class.  To list the problems would take more time than listing what’s going good for this place…which is what I’m here to change.  I don’t care if I do it with style, grace, or blood and sweat; I’m going to fix things around here.  I’m going to get the right people back to where they need to be.  I’m going to do it for you, the fans, and the people who know that World Wrestling Alliance deserves to have respectful, proper champions that reflect their company with pride.  Not these ruffians, these human parasites.”

Potts glances over his WorldWide flyer, noticing who Friar is set to debut against.  The reporter raises his hand and smiles, catching Friar’s eye and causing him to grin.  “What’s on your mind, Hoss?”

“You say you want to clean up the WWA?” Potts questions.  Friar nods.

“And you’re ready to step into the thick of it?” He asks.  Friar, again, nods confidently.

“Then you won’t have any issue preparing for your debut match, will you?”

Friar chuckles, repositioning himself against the podium, and rubs his chin.  “When I learned I was coming to the big time, I began preparing for anything.  So, when I learned I had my shot, I put my foot down and hit the gym full throttle.  Not to mention I prepare for the unexpected when I am training.  When you live life the way I do, fearless and focused in a dangerous game, the only person that can beat me…is me.  Is it an issue preparing?  Hardly.  It’s motivating.  To be given the opportunity to put my print on the WWA’s history like this is anything but an issue.  It’s gratifying.”

Potts nods and sits down, smiling to nearby reporters who begin packing up their things.  The short man steps toward the podium.  He smiles up at the new WWA acquisition who watches the reporters begin to leave the room.

“I believe that concludes our session today, folks.  Again, thank you for coming out and we hope to see you in North Carolina.”

Friar joins the man in the black dress shirt as they exit the room together and head for the site of Friar’s WWA debut, Durham, North Carolina.  It might be a long way from here but it will be a longer road back for the Victor – who will likely be collecting his last paycheck if Friar has his way.