A New Revolution
The audience sat in stunned silence.
Revolution had been built from the ground up around Hunter.
Hunter, the symbol of the present.
Nick Flair, the symbol of the past.
Lance Orton and Gabe Batista, the symbols of the future.
Four men, vowing to ignite a revolution in this industry — that was how Revolution came to be.
"But Hunter... you broke that promise. You disappeared, all on your own."
Russell began to lay out Hunter's sins before the entire world.
The crowd was in shock.
They'd been shocked when the Revolution members, ostensibly there to celebrate his return, swarmed and ambushed him instead. And when Russell climbed into the ring afterward and took the mic, that shock swelled tenfold.
"I know. I know — you were badly hurt. But from that moment on, you took no responsibility whatsoever."
His mic work was exquisite.
"You simply vanished. And because of that, the future had to become the present a little faster than planned. And the result? You became unnecessary."
"Boooo......!"
The boos were faint, almost whispered.
Most of the crowd was too stunned to react at all.
Russell Hart... in Revolution?
What on earth is happening?
The cameras lingered lovingly on every one of those stunned faces as the broadcast rolled on.
"And on top of that, you lost to that peon, Sin. Just like my uncle, Greg Hart, before you."
"Boooooooo......!"
The boos swelled at the mention of Greg Hart — but then,
"We are different."
Anyone who saw Russell's serious face locked back onto the story.
"And we'll prove it."
The mic dropped to the canvas with a clatter.
Revolution made a scapegoat of Hunter, the man lying broken at their feet. As the sacrifice nailed to their cross — the symbol of their will — they began to beat him without mercy.
I can't just sit here and watch this.
I was so absorbed in the cruelty of it that I wanted to turn off the TV.
A Blood Job was permitted, and Hunter's forehead was slick with red in seconds.
"Booooooooooooooooo......!"
As the crowd began raining down boos on the brutal assault — an assault on a man who had only just returned — no one emerged to stop Revolution as it bared its ambitions once more.
A Batista Bomb. An R.K.O.
And finally, Russell's Crescent from the top turnbuckle.
Burning Kong went off the air alternating between shots of the unconscious Hunter and the Revolution members standing over him.
Whew.
Only then did I remember to breathe.
It was, in a word, incredible.
In the original history, Revolution's run had ended with the company pushing Gabe Batista as its centerpiece. But Hunter's sudden injury and rehab had thrown that plan into disarray, and I'd been genuinely curious how things would shake out.
This is way better.
With this, everyone won.
And now everyone would be dying to know more. What would become of the ousted Hunter? How would Sin — betrayed by a friend — respond? And what fresh acts of villainy would Revolution unleash going forward?
That's what a show is.
Dangle a tantalizing thread and leave the audience desperate to know more. Feed their anticipation.
By that measure, tonight's show was the best of the best. Even I, who already knew every twist of the story, could barely contain my excitement for next week.
A new ring gear.
And a new year.
I keep climbing.
There was one more thing unfolding differently than it had in my past life.
Hell Saw.
The content itself was one thing, but the attention it was drawing across every media outlet was on a completely different level from my previous life.
There were two big reasons.
First, I was in it — an actor whose star was rising by the day.
And second, Snoop-Duck had attended the premiere.
He was one of the hottest men in the American entertainment industry in 2005. His new singles were charting, and everyone was watching his every move. So when a man like that announced he'd be appearing at a small film's premiere, the reporters naturally swarmed.
It had all gone exactly as I'd planned.
The modest premiere venue was packed wall-to-wall with press in no time, and James Kwan could barely hide his alarm at the sight.
"Th-this is... what the hell?"
"My concern is whether all these people will even fit inside the screening room."
The actors looked tense too. So much attention lavished on a tiny film with no Hollywood money behind it had caught everyone off guard.
Amid all that, James — who had treated me like a gentleman for the entire shoot — flashed a sour smile.
"Can't tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. At this rate, won't the movie itself get zero attention?"
The mood dimmed a little.
And honestly, he had a point. The reporters here had come less to cover the film than to dig into my relationship with Snoop-Duck.
"That's plenty."
"...Huh?"
"A great director, a great script, fantastic actors, and a brilliant crew — didn't all that add up to a hell of a movie?"
I smiled.
"Once they watch our film, the reporters won't be able to see me or Snoop at all. They'll only remember the movie."
I spoke with total conviction. Having seen the finished product, I was certain of it.
This film would absolutely become the same massive hit it had been in my past life.
If anything, the buzz from this premiere might secure us even more screens in the opening weeks.
The actors, who had been half-frozen at my words, soon cracked smiles.
"From your lips to God's ears."
A faint, hopeful murmur — that was the typical reaction.
Horror films, thanks to their distinctive taste, were never mainstream fare the way romances or action blockbusters were. The conventional wisdom held that with their devoted cult following, you made them cheap, released them fast, and got out.
But Hell Saw transcended all of that.
A shocking twist. A murderer steeped in philosophy. Meticulously detailed traps.
Pile on a thriller plot that tightened around your throat inch by inch, and the film had literally stunned the entire world.
"It's going to do great. Trust me."
After rallying the cast and crew, I turned to greet a man making his way into the premiere venue.
Snoop-Duck himself.
The reporters raised their cameras, and the flashes went off in a blinding chain. I approached him alongside James.
Snoop-Duck broke into an easy smile.
"Quite the turnout, cuz."
"Thank you for coming."
"Aw, don't mention it. That's what 'friends' are for, right?"
"That's right."
After we shook hands, I introduced James, who had been standing there with his shoulders hunched.
"This is our director."
"I'm looking forward to the film."
"Th-thank you."
"Just call me Jazzy."
"Well, well. We already got a Jazzy on our side of the country, you know."
Snoop-Duck name-dropping the rapper they called the King of New York. We exchanged a few quick pleasantries, and then the reporters closed in.
"Snoop, can you tell us about your relationship with Sin?"
"How long have you two known each other?"
Just as expected — the press cared far more about my connection to Snoop than about the film. To them, the premiere was nothing but a convenient excuse for an interview.
But Snoop deflected their questions with effortless wit.
"Save the questions for after the screening. That ain't what y'all came here for, is it?"
"W-well..."
"I'm heading in first."
Snoop-Duck brushed past the reporters and walked straight into the theater. The dazed press scrambled after him — there was no way they'd come this far and miss their interview.
And so the premiere began.
After a brief round of greetings from the cast, the screening started.
Some reporters, with no seats left, sat on the stairs or stood at the back of the room.
Seated right beside Snoop, I began to watch Hell Saw — the version with me in it.
A nameless basement room. A man waking up in a bathtub full of water. The dim lights flickering on. Another man on the far side of the room. Ankle chains on both of them. A tape recorder in one man's hand, a revolver in the other's. And a corpse lying between them.
To hide the final twist until the very last moment, the director had added several flourishes that hadn't existed in my past life.
First, the body on the floor was now dressed in clothes and buried under heavy prosthetic makeup, so that no one could ever recognize it as me. Beyond that, he'd twisted the camera angles with surgical precision and had the corpse slump over while still seated, disguising its height.
Even when my voice played in the film, it was distorted so heavily that it was impossible to tell who was speaking.
On top of that, my name in the published cast lists said only that I appeared in a cameo role — the twist buried as deep as it could go.
The audience had no idea that the crumpled-up body on the floor was me. None at all.
The hospital scene was the same. In it, Jigsaw passed by as if in passing — just one more patient lying in a bed. I'd shot that scene as a patient wrapped head to toe in bandages, my entire body covered in burns.
When the pig mask went on, the other actors wore platform shoes to shave down the height difference.
Every last one of those details, conjured in service of the final twist, showed off just how capable a director James truly was. Between the original traps, the puppet that appeared midway through — everything about the film seared itself into the audience's minds.
"Please...! Please, stop!!"
"GYAAAAAAAAAH!!"
The screams came thick and fast, along with the blood.
Then the reveal: the male nurse who had seemed to be Jigsaw was in truth a victim, and the real twist unfurled before them.
I rose from my seat on screen.
The burn-scarred man from early in the film — the patient James had given up on. Peeling the prosthetic flesh from my face, I revealed the ruined features beneath.
Special effects makeup.
The entire theater held its breath.
"Now do you feel alive?"
A raving madman, broken by a miserable past and burned alive in his own flesh.
"The game is over!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
With the victim's final scream, the door slammed shut with a bang — and the film ended.
The theater sat in stunned silence.
Then, one by one, people began to applaud.
Snoop-Duck, too, seemed deeply moved by what he'd just seen.
I asked him carefully.
"So? What did you think?"
"...Damn, that was remarkable. Especially that final twist. Beautiful work."
"Right?"
"The killer's performance was outstanding, especially. Those mad eyes, those lines — I got chills down my spine and couldn't tell you why."
"Th-thank you."
"But hold up — where were you in the movie?"
"............Sorry?"
"I watched the whole thing and I don't remember seeing you once."
"I was the killer."
Snoop-Duck slid subtly away from my side.
...I hadn't realized full-body burn makeup would cause this particular problem.
Once the embargo lifted, articles about the film came pouring out from every direction.
Just as expected, the reviews were rapturous. The traps. The killer. The flawless construction. The ending above all.
And on top of that, praise kept coming for my performance as Jigsaw — despite the role barely offering any opportunity to showcase actual acting.
There were a few reasons for that.
"The direction that conceals the Jigsaw actor's face left a striking impression. It shattered a prejudice I didn't know I was carrying."
Hiding my face under makeup so that audiences only caught on late that I was playing Jigsaw had apparently landed as a brilliant choice.
Athletes crossing over into acting isn't unheard of in America. But the media almost always tears those performances to shreds.
In my case, appearing with my face hidden let me sidestep that prejudice entirely.
The fact that Snoop-Duck had attended the premiere was forgotten completely; nothing but articles about the film poured out for days on end.
"Honestly, I felt like he ranked above The Pock in his debut film — on pure acting ability alone."
"Given a tall frame, a handsome face, and a sculpted physique, this would seem the most unsuitable role imaginable for him. And yet he pulled it off."
Everyone sang the film's praises. A few self-proclaimed critics branded it nothing more than torture porn and savaged it, but audiences only cared that the movie was entertaining.
And so Hell Saw, launched amid far greater attention than it had enjoyed in my past life, secured more than double the opening screens — and within days, that number passed five times over, an outright abnormal run at the box office.
James Kwan was practically foaming at the mouth with joy over that alone, but the truth was, this was only the beginning.
Going forward, this film would become a major revenue stream for me — and a portfolio proving that I could genuinely act.
After everyone had worked so hard to put this brilliant finished product in my hands, I felt like I could fly.