[Christian Underwood]

 First RP Period Deadline:
United States: 11:59pm EST Saturday 11/01/2014
England: 03:59am Sunday 11/02/2014  

[Christian Underwood]

 We are now in the second RP period.

Second RP Period Deadline:
United States: 11:59pm EST Friday 11/07/2014
England: 03:59am Saturday 11/08/2014

[sean jackson]

 The Drake Green era is over


As you sit down in your chair, you raise the lid to your laptop computer.  As the screen comes to life, you immediately go to one of your favorite news pages on the internet.  As your eyes scan the page, something catches your attention.  Yes, it's something that is trending online and it has a name....

Sean Jackson.

Curious, you click on the link and it forwards you to a news feed that has a video imbedded into it.  Still curious, you click on it and the video comes to life on your screen.  

As the video begins to play, the camera pans to where a clear blue sky is shown followed by a bridge that spans alongside a large body of water, with what appears to be a large castle on the other side.  Large groups of people are walking across the bridge, pointing towards one of the greatest landmarks in London...

The Tower of London.

As you wonder what this has to do with Sean Jackson, a voice is heard coming out of your speakers.  Yes, it IS the voice of Sean Jackson.

Jackson:  "I bet you're wondering why I'm in England?"

As he speaks, the camera zooms in on the bridge to where Sean is standing in front of the castle.  The castle that houses the Tower of London.  Of all places, why would Sean choose here?

You also notice that there's something written on the bridge, just under the Mental Rapist.  The words *Entry To The Traitor's Gate* is clearly visable.  But why you ask yourself?  Why would Sean Jackson pick this place and why would it be noteworthy?

Jackson:  "Well, I had some business to attend to and, what better place to go and unwind than London, England...."

With his hand, Sean motions to the castle behind him.

Jackson:  "And the Tower of London."

Cocking his head to one side and stroking his chin, a smile begins to form.

Jackson:  "Hey, doesn't Simon Jones live somewhere close by?"

Shrugging, Sean curls his lip and scoffs.  Like he gives two bowel movements about Simon Jones.  But hey, what's a Sean Jackson video without *some* mention of Simon.

Jackson:  "Anyyyy wayyyy, I didn't come here to talk about any SCW has-beens.  No, I came here to relax and to catch the sights and sounds of London.  Like this castle behind me.  I've always wanted to visit here, so let's go see what the big deal is."

As he turns and walks away, the shot fades on your computer screen momentarily, before coming back to life as the holder of the camera is now on the bridge, showing the grounds in between the bridge and castle.  There are several stone statues of lions as well as dozens of people following the bridge into the castle itself.  One of those people being Sean Jackson himself.

The camera follows Sean under a carved walkway thru the castle walls and onto the grounds itself where he finds himself between two high sets of walls.  As his eyes follow along the borders of those walls, he again speaks.

Jackson:  "Back in the day, England was a major power in the world.  It's empire stretched from the UK to the New World, from Australia to the Middle East...."

Sean goes back to walking between the two great walls, along the cobblestone walkway under his feet.  As the camera zooms in and out, pans from side to side, Sean continues.

Jackson:  "With castle's like this being a symbol of that power.  But, the only problem with that is symbols aren't real.  They're just as fake as this symbol is now...."

Sean points at the castle walls that surround him.

Jackson:  "Just as fake as the current SCW heavyweight champion Drake Green.  Just as fake as the former SCW champion Simon Jones."

As the video continues, it fades ever so slightly and comes back to a barred gate with the words Traitors' Gate over it.  Once thru, another cobblestone pathway leads you to in front of the main part of the castle, and directly in front of the Tower of London.  

Jackson:  "There are 900 years of history here.  Matter of fact, several centuries ago, if you were led up those stairs as an enemy of the crown..."

Sean points in the direction of the stairs.  The stairs that lead into the Tower of London, where subjects and enemies alike were brought to be tortured.  As the video switches locations again, a sign clearly reads Torture At The Tower.

Jackson:  "Then you would surely die, an enemy of the crown.  Drake, do you have any idea what took place there?"

Sean would shake his head.

Jackson:  "Of course you wouldn't.  An uneducated fraud such as yourself could never know of such things as this.  About the frailty of the human spirit, of working hard for something as prestigeous as the SCW heavyweight title..."

Sean stops himself.  Here is definitely not the place to blow a gasket, so he goes back to the history that is the Tower of London.

Jackson:  "For starters, there was the torture rack.  Enemies of the crown were laid out on it and stretched until their bones cracked, until their ligaments were ripped apart.  Can you imagine being on such a machine Drake?  Can you imagine being trapped there, unable to escape your shackles, with a man sadistic enough to enjoy your screams?"

Sean stops walking, an evil smile crossing his lips.

Jackson:  "You should have stopped when you had the chance.  When I put you out of wrestling several months ago, you should have taken the hint.  But no, you had to listen to the mouth breathers and attempt the comeback.  You just had to prove that you had one more run in you, to shove it in the face of Mark Ward and Hot Stuff International.  Well Drake, play time is over because at High Stakes IV, you will be tortured and I will be the one at the controls."

His eyes close, his head tilts backwards.  Whatever he is imagining, it is music to his ears.

Jackson:  "Can you hear it Drake?  the sound of your body being ripped apart at the joints?  better yet, can you see the tears of all the little boys and girls who will have to listen to your screams?"

Slowly, his head returns back and his eyes open.  They are cold, indifferent.  

Jackson:  "Or better yet, how about a little unknown device called the scavenger's daughter?  You see, it is quite different from the rack in which it compresses and contorts the body...."

The video switches to that of a machine like no other.  

Jackson:  "It crushes the body Drake, like a nutcracker.  It compresses your body until blood comes out of every hole you have."

As Sean talks, he closes his fist tighter and tighter until his knuckles turn white.  As he was speaking, the fist clinching tighter was an iconic symbol of what the scavenger's daughter was all about.  Or better yet, what his Hook em Horns driver is all about.

Jackson:  "It crushes you much in the same manner that my Hook em Horns driver does.  Just ask Justin Halliwell and Jamie Dean on it's effectiveness.  Oh wait, that's right, you can't.  Neither have been seen or heard of in weeks...."

Sean talks as if he's proud of the moment he put two people in the hospital.  When he compressed the discs in their necks by way of the cold hard ring steps.  A moment he will savor if given the chance to do so against Drake.

The scene fades momentarily before coming back into focus.  Sean is no longer at the Tower of London, but instead finds himself in front of the most famous landmark in London...

Big Ben.

With the sounds of vehicles passing by, with the hustle and bustle of english commoners passing by, Sean points up at the iconic tower.

Jackson:  "If the Tower of London isn't your cup of tea, then let me introduce you to Big Ben.  The clock tower that has survived everything, including world wars.  The clock that has chimed every hour on the hour since it's creation in 1859.  Even with a crack on one side of it, the bell still rings.  Well Drake, how did you function the first time I cracked your skull with the high knee?"

In visiting two famous landmarks in London, Sean has been able to tie them both to his finishers and towards the demise of Drake Green.

Jackson:  "Or better yet, how will you function now that play time is over?  now that it's time for the Drake Green era to come to a halt.  Oh and believe me, it's coming to a halt whether you like it or not.  This crap of protecting you against the likes of lesser competition is over.  I've had to wait, I've had to sit on the back burner, forced to stomach opponents not worthy enough to lick my boots while you've faced tin can after tin can.

A few seconds later, the large clock begins to bellow it's chimes, alerting everyone that it's the top of the hour.  Prompting Sean to raise his index finger into the air.

Jackson:  "Ah yes, music to the ears.  You've heard that sound before, haven't you Drake?  yes, the night I drilled you in the back of your skull, putting you out of wrestling for several months.  Answer me this, when the lights go out and your career comes to an end in the same moment your title reign does...."

Inhale.exhale

Jackson:  "Will it all have been worth it?"

Pause.

Jackson:  "When they put you on that board, with someone you don't even know holding your neck still, preventing further damage.  Just remember that I gave you an out.  When they're slowly sliding that board out of the ring, just remember that it will be a bunch of unknowns who will be keeping you from falling.  When they place you on that gurney and prepare to wheel you to an awaiting ambulance, you had better pray that I've gotten you out of my system.  Because if I haven't, then nothing outside of Mark Ward will be able to save you."

Another pause.

Jackson:  "So I ask you again.  Was all of this truly worth it?"


Fade.

[DrakeGreen]

 
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.”


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.]