A New Hope
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.†–Desmond Tutu
November 5th, 2014 – Thayer Hotel; West Point, NY – 7:30 AM
[The scene fades in inside of hotel room. A familiar scene these days for our Heavyweight Champion, empty beer bottles and half full whiskey bottles decorate the room. Inside the large, ornate king-sized bed are two naked women, covered only a thin white sheet. They are fast asleep after what was most likely a long, alcohol filled evening. A loud flush is heard from the suite’s bathroom. Out walks a glassy eyed, groggy Drake Green wearing nothing but a pair of tight black boxer briefs. His face looks tired underneath his newly returned beard, which is more a product of not grooming than the desire to have facial hair. He rubs his eyes a bit before making his way back toward the bed. He looks over the sleeping women and just cocks his head a bit.]
Drake: Hey…
[He pokes the girl closest to him.]
Drake: Time to get up.
[He pokes her again. When there is no response he lifts up her arm by her hand and lets it go.
SMACK!
It falls right back down to mattress. He shakes his head a bit, shoves her over a few inches and then sits down on the bed with his feet planted firmly on the ground. He curls his toes a bit and then rubs the inside of his left thigh with a bit of pressure as if trying to iron out the muscle. He clenches his teeth a bit as he feels the pain shooting through his leg, a side effect of his newly diagnosed ALS. He looks back at the sleeping women and shakes his head a bit more.]
Drake: What am I doing?
[The camera cuts to the large, marble filled hotel suite bathroom as Drake walks in. He stops at the vanity for a moment and sizes himself up. He looks over the few scars on his body and then admires his tattoos as if he was proud of himself. He looks deep into his own green eyes and squints at himself before bringing up his hands to rub his tired eye sockets. He slips off his boxer briefs and steps into the shower room, slowly turning the faucet on and letting the shower rain down on him. He stands for a moment, motionless and lifeless, letting the water soak in. The camera cuts to black.
We fade back in to Drake stepping outside of the Thayer Hotel, wearing black Under Armour running gear, Puma sneakers, and a black Under Armour skullcap. With his ear buds nestled firmly in his ears, he hits play on his iPod.]
"(Go left, go left, go left right left)
'Cause sometimes you just feel tired"
[Eminem’s ‘Til I Collapse’ begins to play through his head as he takes his first steps, starting off in a slow jog. The Thayer Hotel is surrounded by a beautiful landscape just east of New York’s Bear Mountain. He jogs past the end of the large stone hotel and scoots on to a designated West Point running trail, which is used mainly by the Cadets inhabiting the small town.]
"Till I collapse I'm spillin' these raps long as you feel 'em
Till the day that I drop you'll never say that I'm not killin' them"
[He whisks past a few female Cadets who are jogging the opposite way. He smiles and nods but doesn’t get much of a response from the future officers of the United States Army. He runs down a slight hill and begins to pick up some speed. He pushes himself as he hits the small valley and begins to climb uphill. His speed picks up and he begins to feel the sweat dripping down his brow.]
"Your comin' with me, feel it or not you're gonna fear it
Like I showed you the spirit of God lives in us"
[He throws his emotion into his climb up the hill, breathing heavy and working hard to keep pushing. He lets all his thoughts dissipate as he runs. The fears of getting back in the ring with Sean Jackson, all the doubts and uncertainties that he’s done well at suppressing these past few weeks start to creep back in as he reaches the summit of the hill. The terrain begins to trend downhill one more time. ]
"Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out- "
Drake: Ahhhh…
[As he runs past a grouping of trees he feels a sharp, over bearing pain in his left thigh. His run turns into a jogging limp before quickly molding into a hop. He nearly skips over to a large Pine tree and hugs the trunk as he frantically tries to rub his thigh. Out of anger he pulls out his ear buds and the faint noise of Eminem can be heard squeaking out of them. He turns around and leans up against the large tree, letting his knees give out and sliding to the dirt. He sits there for a moment, his head being held up by the tree, and he realizes how far he might have gotten himself in over his head.]
November 6th, 2014 – West Point Convention Center; West Point, NY – 4:00 PM
[We fade back in to a large hall, filled to capacity with reporters and SCW staff and fans. The room waits patiently for the next member of the roster to come out and speak. Behind a small partition, leading out of a makeshift green room is our Champion, Drake Green. He stands tall in a black suit, white shirt, and a green tie that matches the hue of his sparkling eyes. His beard is now a bit more groomed and his hair, although a bit longer than normal, is neatly combed. Mr. Showtime is here. He stands next to his agent, Barry Goldstein, wearing a silver suit, magenta shirt and a black tie. He is smoking a cigar even though there are several ‘No Smoking’ signs plastered around the room.]
Barry: How you feeling, Champ?
Drake: You kidding me? One hundred percent.
[He lies.]
Barry: Because the other day you weren’t looking so hot.
Drake: Barry…I’m good. I’m more than good.
[The high-powered agent sizes him up a bit.]
Barry: Ok, good. Now remember what to say. It’s been an honor to travel and meet the soldiers, no you haven’t banged any of them, and yes you’re ready to beat Sean Jackson again, for the third fuck time. Capisce?
Drake: Yeah, I think I got it.
Barry: Good, go get ‘em.
[From the other side of the partition Drake hears the press agent introduce him. He walks up the steps to a loud applause from the rows of fans in the back of the room. He steps up to the table and has a seat in the chair in the center of the table. Sitting in front of him on the table is his SCW Heavyweight title belt and a name card that reads ‘Drake Green’. He smiles a bit as about a zillion flashes go off and as things begin to settle down he takes the first question.]
Reporter #1: Showtime, how do you feel going into the match this weekend. You and Sean know each other so well inside the ring, are you confident this time around?
Drake: Well…umm…yeah.
[He flashes a quick smile, which elicits a quiet chuckle in the crowd.]
Drake: You’re right, Sean and I have done this dance before. He’s a great competitor for sure. It’s never easy being in there with him but I feel confident again this time around. Sean’s only beaten me once so I feel like I’ve got the upper hand here.
Reporter #2: Speaking of the one time you did lose to Sean, he put you out of action for a considerable amount of time with a neck injury, an injury that most experts felt you came back from a bit too early. How’s the neck holding up?
[Almost as if on cue, Drake’s left thigh begins to flare up again. He grabs it tightly under the table as if he was trying to quiet it down. His face muscles tighten as he holds off the pain and after a short moment, it subsides.]
Drake: I gotta say the neck is fine. No real problems at all. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.
[Again, he lies.]
Reporter #3: Speaking of ‘feeling good’, there have been some reports of you gallivanting a bit on this tour and getting extra friendly with some women in uniform.
[A few ‘Ooohs’ and ‘Ahhhs’ peep out from the fans in the back of the room. Drake again flashes his smile before answering the question.]
Drake: I have nothing but respect for the women, and men, of our Armed Forces. Having the opportunity to travel around our great country and meet some of them and entertain them has been an incredible experience. Everyone I’ve met has really been a class act and has welcomed us into their community for the short amount of time we were there.
Reporter #3: But what can you say of the reports about you out drinking and getting personal with some lady officers?
Drake: As most people know these days I live a sober lifestyle so any reports of me out drinking and what not, they aren’t true. As for the ladies in uniform…well…
[Again, he smiles.]
Drake: Rumors are just that, rumors.
Reporter #4: Drake, we’ve heard reports that your contract is coming up shortly, any word on any negotiations?
Drake: I’m pretty sure my agent won’t be happy if I comment but let’s just say that I’m happy in Sin City and I look forward to continuing that relationship.
Reporter #4: What about Hollywood? Your film Gun Play was a big success over the summer, are there any plans to make another blockbuster?
Drake: I think it’s in the works, yeah.
[The SCW Press agent steps forward and signals for one more question.]
Reporter #5: Drake, do you think that your history with Mark Ward could play in to this weekend’s main event? After all this will be SCW’s biggest show to date and with your well-documented disdain for each other, one must assume that he isn’t happy that you’re headlining the event.
[Drake stares at the female reporter for a moment, making sure he chooses his next words wisely.]
Drake: I think that no matter how much Mark Ward would enjoy me sitting at home off of his card, I think he likes ticket sales and Pay Per View buys a hell of a lot more. That’s what you get with Mr. Showtime…ratings.
[Drake smiles again as he stands up. He poses for a few pictures before saying thank you and heading back down the steps behind the small partition wall where Barry is waiting for him.]
Drake: How did I do?
Barry: Like a fucking champ, Champ. Now what do you say we go get a quick bite to eat before we head back to the hotel.
Drake: Sure.
[The two men walk around the corner and head toward the exit of the building when Drake catches sight of someone walking by him out of the corner of his eye. He turns quickly to see Misty, walking right by him. Out of pure extinct he grabs her arm.]
Misty: Hey, what the…
[She stops talking when she sees who is holding her arm. Her confused look turns in to an angry one as she angrily shakes off Drake’s grip.]
Misty: What are you doing?
Drake: I just…how are you?
[She steps in closer so that the press and fans behind the velvet ropes on the far side of the building can’t hear what they say.]
Misty: Why do you care?
Drake: What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I care?
Misty: Are you kidding?
Drake: I made a mistake…that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I miss you.
[She steps in even closer and speaks just above a whisper.]
Misty: You think I even give a shit, Drake? You embarrassed me worse than anyone ever has before. I don’t care how you’re doing and I certainly don’t give a fuck if you miss me.
[He shuts his eyes for a second before reopening them, as if blinking and trying to wake up from a dream.]
Drake: I just don’t want you to hate me.
[She shakes her head a bit.]
Misty: I don’t hate you Drake. Hate implies feeling anything and you’ve taken that away. I will never feel anything for you again.
[She stares back at him for a moment before turning around and heading back to wherever she was headed in the first place. He watches her walk away and can’t bring himself to look away.]
Barry: Man she’s got an ass. I can’t believe you fucked that up.
[Drake turns to Barry with a scowl on his face.]
Drake: You know what, Barry…go get your own dinner.
[Drake turns to his right and walks away in a huff.]
Barry: What? What did I say?
[Barry chases after him as the scene fades out.]
The nemesis returns. No matter how many times I think I’m done with you Sean you find some way to slither and slide your way back into my line of sight. I’m sick of this back and forth game we play and the scariest part of it all is that I’m afraid it’s never going to end. I can us as old men, smacking each other’s dentures out of our mouths. The type of hatred that I have for you burns deeper and stronger than any other I have felt before. It’s the kind of sinking feeling in your gut that drives you and pushes you a long the way. When I was hurt and out of action it was that feeling, the raw emotion of hatred that I felt towards you that brought me back so quick. It wasn’t a medical miracle or some sort of crazy new steroid. It was hate.
When I was out of action, I learned something about myself. I learned that no matter how hard life kicks me in the gut that I was going to prevail. That I was gonna come back stronger than before and leave a wake of destruction in my path. That path, Sean, lead to you. It led me to Climax Control and number one contender’s match. It led me to a victory over you so sound, so resounding, that I basically walked into a title match with Gene Banton without little or no resistance from you. The last time I was in the ring that before that night you broke three vertebrae in my neck and back. You effectively ended Showtime…I believe you used the word ‘CANCELLED’. You lit a fire under me that hadn’t been there in years and you know what, it worked. Without your arrogance and my absolute disdain for anything Sean Jackson I would not be the SCW Heavyweight Champion right now. So, thanks for that.
I can’t stand you, Sean. You’re the type of human that makes me sick. The things you do, the way you treat people just irks the living shit out of me. Your reluctance to give up on Hot Stuff International when you’re the only member left makes me crazy. Your absolute arrogance makes me want to smack you in the face, over and over again. I’ve asked myself countless times what is it about you that makes me feel this way and after months and months of soul searching…after nearly a year of tearing my brain apart searching for the answer…I found it. Every person has a soulmate. A person they belong with. A person they have a never ending bond with. When I heard this word soulmate I always assumed lovers, I always assume marriage. But then it hit me Sean. A soulmate is a person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet -- a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before. It isn’t about love…it’s about the bond. You and I are bonded together Sean, destined to battle each other until the end of time. No matter the circumstances or the venue…whenever one of us is there, getting ahead and making a name for ourselves…the other will be right behind waiting to strike…waiting to ignite this again. You are my soulmate Sean…you are the only driving force left in my life for good or for bad…you are my destiny.â€
December 31st, 2029 – Barnabee’s Grill and Bar; Oak Brook, IL – 9:15 PM
[The camera fades in outside of Barnabee’s Grill and Bar on a cold, snowy New Year’s Eve night. The place is not as busy as you would think on such a joyous evening with just a few cars in the parking lot. In pulls a large BMW sedan, black with dark black tints and bright chrome wheels. It pulls up to the front of the building and park in a handicap spot. As the engine shuts off the driver’s side door swings open. A cane pops out, followed by a man’s legs. The man groans a bit as he gets himself up and out of his luxury sedan. He is wearing black boots, dark jeans, a navy pea coat, and a black and grey Burberry scarf that is wrapped around his head.
The camera follows him from behind as he makes his way up the front steps on the restaurant, struggling a bit to get up the steps with his cane. As he gets to he top of the steps, before he opens the door, he turns around. Through his salt and pepper beard and his expensive scarf we see a much older Drake Green. His hair is almost as much grey as it is black and his once bright green eyes seem to have dimmed a bit. He scans the parking lot as if looking to see if someone’s car is there but he quickly turns back toward the door when he doesn’t see what he is looking for. He walks in and is greeted by the polite hostess.]
Hostess: Hi welcome to Barnabee’s. How can I help you this evening?
[He looks past her to scan the room, still looking for someone, but doesn’t seem to find what or who is he looking for. He sighs and then smiles before answering the young lady’s question.]
Drake: Just a table for two, please.
[She smiles back and nods as she grabs a set of menus and motions for him to follow her. She seats him at a table at the end of the restaurant, up against the wall. He takes the seat facing the door. As a waitress walks over his eyes light up as he sees a woman walk through the door. She has dark hair with a streak of grey running through it. Wearing a black jacket and lighter blue jeans stuffed into black snow boots she walks closer and closer. It’s Misty. She leans in and kisses him on the cheek before taking her seat.]
Misty: I’m sorry I’m late.
Drake: That’s ok I just got here.
Waitress: Can I get you two something to drink?
Misty: Umm, you know what? I’ll have an Amaretto Sour.
Drake: Whoa, fancy.
Misty: Shut up.
[Drake laughs a bit before turning to the waitress.]
Drake: Diet Coke is fine, thanks.
Waitress: Not a problem, I‘ll be right back with those. If you have any questions about the menu please let me know.
Misty: Thanks.
[They both watch her walk away.]
Misty: She’s cute.
Drake: You think she’d dig an old man with a cane?
[She smiles at him.]
Misty: Not likely, no.
[They share a laugh.]
Misty: I’m so sorry I was late. Eden called and she kept me on the phone forever.
Drake: How’s she doing?
Misty: She’s good. Heading to some big party at school.
Drake: That sounds like fun.
Misty: Yeah, I still worry but…I don’t think that will ever go away.
Drake: She’s a good kid.
Misty: She’s not so bad.
[Misty smiles at him as the waitress comes over with the drinks. They politely tell her they need a few more minutes and just as the waitress walks away, Misty’s eyes light up.]
Misty: It’s 9:30!
[Drake smiles as he checks his watch.]
Drake: That it is.
[He stands up a bit, as difficult as it seems for him, and leans over the table.]
Drake: Happy Anniversary…Mrs. Green.
[He kisses her as the scene cuts out.]