[Christian Underwood]

 Post your roleplays here.

[Christian Underwood]

 The first RP period deadline has passed. Everything posted after this will count for the second RP period.

[Mark Ward]

  SCW Headquarters in Las Vegas, Nevada. Christian Underwood and Erik Staggs sit impatiently in a room at an oak table, with one chair vacant. Along the side of the room is a leather sofa, and chair, opposite a television. Christian impatiently shuffles through some papers as the door opens and in walks Hot Stuff Mark Ward, wearing beige khaki combat shorts and an open white button up shirt. On his face, he has sunglasses and a shell necklace around his neck. Christian looks up from the papers.

Christian: And what have you come as today?

Hot Stuff looks himself up and down.

HS: You can't tell? Clearly, I'm an astronaut.

Christian shakes his head.

Erik: You're late.

HS: Which makes me fashionable. I mean you wouldn't know about fashionable, but it's fashionable to be late.

Christian: By three hours?

HS: Yes, just about made it in fashionable time.

Hot Stuff walks towards the sofa, falling face first on to it. Christian fires a look in Hot Stuff's direction.

Christian: We have work to do here.

Hot Stuff turns his head, laying flat, but enough for his words to be heard.

HS: Some of us was working last night, at a sponsors party to get money in to this place.

Erik: Doesn't explain the Surf Boy knock off clothes.

HS: Cause I went to another party afterwards and I don't remember how I ended up like this, or even where my underwear disappeared at, but I'm not complaining. Fact is, I'm tired because I was working last night.

Hot Stuff buries his head in the sofa cushion.

Christian: It is your job to bring in the money.

Hot Stuff sits up on the sofa, accepting that he may not find much rest in the office.

HS: And it's your job to spend the money so.

Hot Stuff reaches in to his pocket, pulling out a crumpled ten dollar bill. He walks towards the table and places it on the table in front of Christian.

HS: I made this money, you go spend it. You are so the wife of this company.

Erik looks at Hot Stuff.

HS: And you're the step child from his first marriage.

Hot Stuff points a thumb at Christian.

HS: I bring home the money, the wife there spends it, and you spend all day locked in a room watching wrestling DVDs.

Hot Stuff gives Erik a double thumbs up, causing the head of talents relations to slowly shake his head at Hot Stuff.

Christian: And where is the money you made last night?

HS: Well, it comes in the form of the tour actually. We have a few people who want us to advertise them in Africa, which is stupid cause in some of those places, they don't even speak English, let alone what some of these sponsor products are, but hey, if they wanna stick money in my hand for it, fuck it, so be it.

Hot Stuff takes a seat at the table, looking at Christian to the left of him and Erik to the right of him.

Erik: And what is this product that's gonna be sponsoring the SCW tour.

Hot Stuff looks at Erik, waving his finger.

HS: Bug repellent Erik.

Christian's mouth opens wide, before closing it, his mind in thought.

Christian: They give us some of this stuff for free right?

HS: They do.

Christian: Oh good.

Erik: Have you seen the size of some of those bugs in Africa? Not even a baseball bat could take some of those down.

Hot Stuff smirks at Erik.

HS: Don't worry mate, they won't try and eat you. I hear the bugs of Africa have slightly more class then that.

Erik tightens his jaw, clearly annoyed at Hot Stuff's comments, but Christian moves over a map of Africa, placing it in front of Hot Stuff. The camera moves up and the map becomes blurred.

Christian: Ok, I've picked here.

Christian places his finger on the map, somewhere in North Africa.

Christian: And here.

Christian moves his finger down lower on the map.

Christian: And Erik has gone for here.

Christian moves his finger to another location on the map.

Christian: And here.

Christian moves his hand to a forth location.

Christian: Now for some unknown reason, you gone for here.

He moves his hand to the south eastern part of the map.

Christian: You have one more choice.

He and Erik look at Hot Stuff, who isn't moving. Christian looks a little closer.

Erik: Mark?

Christian lifts Hot Stuff's sunglasses, to see his eyes closed.

Christian: HEY!

Hot Stuff's eyes fire open as he looks around the room, looking first at Christian and then at Erik.

HS: Shit, I really am here, thought it was a bad dream that I was stuck in a room with you two.

Erik: Did you fall asleep?

HS: Resting my eyes. You would too if you woke up surrounded by people you didn't know, and by people, I mean Angelica and a shitload of half naked women.

Christian: Mark, can you pick the last destination on the tour please?

Hot Stuff looks at Erik, holding his hand to the side of his mouth away from Christian and mumbling.

HS: See, more and more like the demanding wife over here.

Hot Stuff turns to Christian, a wide smile on his face, only to be met with the unimpressed look of Christian. Hot Stuff puts his hands up in front of his, looking either side at Christian and Erik.

HS: Ok, I've been giving this a whole lot of thought. I debated taking us here, or there, or everywhere. I thought about taking us to the big places and the small places, but with a little research, I found out that we're pretty much popular all over the place. We have a lot of streams to Africa, from the biggest to the smallest country. So I decided that we're going there.

Hot Stuff randomly points to the map. Christian and Erik look at the location selected. Both men nod, but Christian and Erik looks at Hot Stuff.

Erik: You didn't do any research, did you?

HS: Well...

Christian: You just randomly picked a country, didn't ya?

HS: Yeaaaaaaaah, but what a good country to pick.

Christian and Erik slightly nod in agreement.

Erik: Looks like we have our six.

HS: We do, and although I didn't do too much research, I do know that we are popular all over the world. Now I know we're a little independent federation in Christian's eyes, but I think we could be bigger, better than before. Now I got another little offer to bring the money in for you to spend Christian.

Christian: Yeah?

HS: Well we should have done this a long time ago. Without the shackles of that stupid arse region place, I have offers from another state that would like us to visit. Maybe you can look in to that and see is that is viable.

Erik: What state?

HS: Arizona. Now I don't know a lot about Arizona, but I know a bloke who does.

Hot Stuff looks at the camera and winks, pointing under the table towards Christian Underwood.

HS: But it's gotta be worth looking in to.

Christian: I'll look in to it. A lot of independent shows are held in bars and clubs there, so it's something we're already used to.

HS: It is, but my big ideas do not stop there. If you think small, you stay small and in terms of talent that's come in lately, and as much as it pains me to say this, partly thanks to the talent relations guy sitting on my right.

A smug look crosses Erik's face.

HS: We've grown. We have people here who have been involved in a lot bigger places and are now drawing in so many new fans. Now despite what idiots say about SCW on stupid Facebook groups, we're popular. When we hit the tours, people love us, they come out in their thousands and so many leave disappointed because they can not get tickets to come see us. So here's what I propose. In 2015, SCW steps it up a notch and does.... wait for it...

Christian and Erik lean in closer.

HS: A SCW World Tour!

Christian and Erik look at Hot Stuff like he's insane.

Erik: That will cost us way too much.

Christian: It's way bigger than what we are Mark. We are regional, independent, we have a hardcore following in Vegas and California. They will be pissed if we're not in our home towns.

Erik: He's right, plus the wrestlers. They're gonna be dragged around from country to country for a year. They're not gonna be happy with this at all.

HS: They get to see the world. Seven continents, like forty plus countries, shows in front of fans who pay to stream SCW every Sunday.

Christian: It's gonna cost too much to drag a ring around the world, hotels, costs, would be out of control.

HS: We have a wealth of international superstars here. We hit their home towns or countries, people will come out, and spend a bomb on their shirts, we'd be sold out and make serious amounts of money out of this.

Erik: I'm not convinced.

HS: We grew like crazy without even having to do a whole lot. A tour like this could kick us too the next level.

Christian shakes his head.

Christian: I need to think about this.

HS: Look, let's see what people think. I'll get the word out there so people on Twitter can hashtag #GetSCWOnAWorldTour2015 or something and we can check the response.

Christian: Good response or not, it could make us go bankrupt.

HS: Oooooooooor it could make us very rich, very popular and up to the next level.

Christian: I don't know, Vegas is home, we need to look at everything here.

Erik: I agree.

Hot Stuff rolls his eyes, standing up.

HS: Is there anything else I need to look at? Cause this is making me very sleepy and I could think of so many women I could be on top of right now.

Erik reaches for a folder on the table, handing it to Hot Stuff.

Erik: A new contract, replacing Babebarian.

Hot Stuff scratches his head.

HS: Replacing? The bird hasn't even debuted yet.

Christian: Nor will she, visa issues.

Hot Stuff rolls his shoulders back as he flips open the folder.

Erik: I think you'll like her replacement though.

Hot Stuff looks at the paper in the folder, looking at the picture attached.

Erik: Her name is Brittany York. She's from London.

Hot Stuff smiles, looking up and towards Erik.

HS: I'm not gonna say this too often, but you did good here Erik, real good. Wowzer.

Hot Stuff places the file on to the table, picking up a nearby pen and signing his name on the contract. He lifts the page, to a second page and signs again. He closes the file and puts the pen on top, looking at Erik.

HS: Again, real good. Makes me wanna stand to attention and sing the national anthem.

Hot Stuff pushes his chair back in, and under the table. He looks around at the two sitting and looking at him.

HS: Nothing else?

Christian shakes his head.

Christian: Not at the moment. We need to get the creative team together though and sort out plans for after My Bloody Valentine.

HS: We still have a creative team? Been very damn quiet from them lately. Maybe we need to add a couple of new people to it to kick people up the arse a bit.

Erik: You have ideas who?

HS: Yep, but right now, I'm gone. I will see you two when I see ya.

Hot Stuff walks away, getting to the door and turning back towards Christian and Erik.

HS: Don't work too hard now location hunting for the tour.

Hot Stuff strolls out of the door as the scene fades out



2 hours later. Star of the Desert Arena in Primm, Nevada. Construction for My Bloody Valentine is well underway as technicians work on the ring. Signs for the show hang from balconies as people rush around. Various wrestlers walk around, looking at the set up. In the rows of seats near the back, Hot Stuff Mark Ward silently watches on at everything going on. His eyes narrowed and looking on as tiredness still runs his body ragged. Still wearing the same clothes as earlier and sleep clearly eluding him, he looks on. SCW reporter, Pussy Willow moves along the row of chairs, dressed in a pair of jeans and a jacket, not her usual glamorous on camera persona. Hot Stuff turns his head, looking at her as she moves down the row of seats, sitting a seat away from him.

Pussy: Hey Mark.

Hot Stuff turns his head, looking at her.  

HS: What's up Pussy?

Hot Stuff turns to the camera with a smile and shrug before turning back to her.

Pussy: You look tired.

HS: Lack of sleep. Didn't get much sleep on the whole forty minute drive from Vegas to here.

Pussy: Are you going to be ok for Sunday?

Hot Stuff nods.

HS: Oh yeah. Just this being the boss thing is enough to wear you out, it's gonna make things look so much better when I face Drake Green and prove I don't even have to be fully awake to beat him.

A smile crosses the Englishman's face.

Pussy: Must be tough doing the staff thing and wrestling.

HS: Nah, just tiring. I spent today picking locations for the African tour, then getting here, but now, I can just sit back, relax, get myself in the mindset of beating Drake Green. Staff stuff out of the way really.

Pussy: Can I ask you a few questions?

HS: Yeah, go for it, I got nothing better to do.

Pussy pulls out a tape recorder from her pocket.

HS: Very old school.

Pussy nods her head in agreement.

Pussy: Yes, but I can write up an article from this and put it online. I would like it to be a very out of character type of interview if that's ok.

HS: Sure

Hot Stuff sits back in his seat, stretching his legs out, lethargically leaning backwards.

Pussy: Have you heard what's going on in the NeWA?

Hot Stuff smiles.

HS: Oh yeah, I have ears everywhere. I don't really give a monkeys cock about it.... probably shouldn't use that term in your article.

Pussy nods her head fast in agreement.

HS: NeWA is meaningless to me, me talking about it gives them free advertising but screw it, people can hear, or when you write it, read this and go and check out what a state it's become. When we left, it was always gonna go downhill. What the dickhead at the top didn't realize, was that we worked harder than anyone else there. We were the only place that had a weekly show, that showed on the days it was meant to, we was the only place that didn't sit on our arses and do nothing. ACW was the only place that came close to our work ethic, and when they had someone who won their Super J Cup last year, ACW rose up behind us. Losing them as well as us, they were left with nothing. The one spark of credibility they had was a man called Sean Jackson. He's now like the rest of us, an outcast from the NeWA world and the truth is, I'm glad he is, because he is so much better than the NeWA.

Pussy: They crowned a new champion there.

HS: They didn't crown a new champ, Sean Jackson is the champ, they gave a belt to someone and I don't care who it was they gave it to. The fact is that poor bastard must be sitting there thinking that he's something special, but if Sean Jackson was still there, the new guy wouldn't come close to taking that title from him. I even heard Spectre left, and he was a pet favorite there. For a man who has loyally stood by an idiots side for so long, to up and leave, something is rotten there.

Pussy: Any chance of seeing these guys appear in SCW?

Hot Stuff runs his hand over his hair.

HS: I don't know, I hope so. I mean the male roster is pretty full at the moment to the point where we are not actively looking for male characters anymore. Teams and bombshells, yes, but male characters, not really, but for these two, I'd make an exception. I have someone putting the feelers out right now, but I'm not sure if a deal can be done. I'd gladly invite the two to an SCW show to air their grievances with the current NeWA regime. Our issues with them is something that's fully documented and it was tough at first trying to convince fans that we were better off without them. Maybe these guys can come in and show the fans how right we were to walk away.

Pussy: You mentioned more bombshells, Kenny Chisholm put out an interesting tweet about an announcement should SCW sign more bombshells, what's that all about?

HS: Well it's no secret that the bombshell division is fading a little, while the male division has exploded. It's happened in SCW before. A while ago, the bombshells ruled the roost, they were stronger than the male and combined tag team division. Now, we have the strongest tag team division we've had here in a long time, mostly due to the return of Guns For Hire and the formation of Jimmy Ringo and Mickey Carroll, and Jordan Williams and Ben Jordan. We've seen a lot of male talent appear like JT Starr, Deavon Justice, Trent Rayne, etc, but the bombshell's have gone quiet. Now I won't tell you what the announcement is gonna be, but I will tell you it will be worth seeing, should we sign more bombshells.

Pussy: Speaking of Kenny Chisholm, what made you decide to bring him in?

HS: Kenny is a smart guy, he knows how to sell things to people in ways others don't. He's great on camera with The Hotwire, people seem to love him or hate him, but either way, they're talking about him. Off camera, he's intelligent enough to take the initiative on social media, and broker deals. He is the head of SCW Studios, bringing us the extra stuff you don't see anywhere else. If anyone wants to do a show under the SCW banner, talking about what they want, that all goes through Kenny. He knows what's going to give us more positive promotion and knows what's gonna make us look stupid. Smart guy and is a huge plus to have on the SCW production staff.

Pussy: So tour dates, have they all been decided?

HS: Mostly. Some cities to be decided, but that's about it.

Pussy: Some people have mentioned about Africa being an unstable continent to be traveling to.

HS: Other companies have gone to war torn countries in the middle of an active war and been fine. We've chosen countries that are relatively safe. Ok, there might be one that's a little fifty fifty, but it happened to be the country that reached out to us for this show and guaranteed our safety. Every superstar and crew member will have a security team, promised by government officials.

Pussy: What else can you tell us about the countries we're visiting?

HS: Well two of the others are VERY unusual locations, some will bitch about it, some will love the fact of wrestling in a country I would put money on, they've never even visited, let alone worked. I'm hoping people will embrace the fact that we are giving them something new, giving them a new experience. Others will no doubt hate it, but I don't care, I'm thinking most will be excited. The other three places are going to excite, big areas, big crowds, well known and will be great to see and work in.

Pussy: You mentioned that a country approached you, do you get offers like this a lot?

HS: We do. We stream all over the world in a simple manner. Laptops, PCs, Macs, Tablets, even some smart phones, can get us. We are popular in some odd places, but it's because of this, we can tour and make good money by touring. It's because of this, we get approached. We have a very handsome offer on the table right now about a show for royalty, that we tried to do last year but couldn't. This year is a distinct possibility. The offers are there, and that's why our second tour of the year, hasn't been decided yet, because we are weighing up options from all over. We also have to look in to legal side of things, because we have a lot of nationalities, visa and political shit comes in to it all the time.

Pussy: Let's talk about Sunday's show. A lot of people are aware of some criticism coming from someone talking about the booking, but are you comfortable with the card?

HS: One hundred percent. Just cause some keyboard warrior wants to ramble on about booking, no one takes him seriously. We have one of the strongest line ups we've ever had in SCW. Seven title matches, the expectations of new people showing up. We're coming at the wrestling world strong this show and one little idiot isn't gonna change the fact that a whole lot of people are gonna be in attendance and a whole lot of people are gonna be watching online. This is our first supercard of the year and it sets the tone for the rest of the year, it sets off all our plans, and with the tour and the Blast From The Past tournament, it's gonna be a good year.

Pussy: You mentioned on Twitter, that teams have been drawn for the Blast From The Past II mixed tag competition. When will the teams be announced.

HS: Haven't decided, but we're thinking closer to show time, let the mystery stay there.

Pussy: Are there any strong favorites from what you've seen?

HS: There's a few strong teams in there, but it all depends on the draw against each other. I couldn't really predict who's gonna be in the final of this one. So many good teams, a lot of very interesting teams and I think a few could step up. The importance of this competition is unreal. Take last year, Odette Ryder and Jordan Williams, they went on and won and was sitting up at the top of their divisions for months to come. This competition makes us take notice and puts people at the top of the tree.

Pussy: So people should take this serious?

HS: One hundred and ten percent serious. They need to get out there and work. Work hard, impress us and show us why they should be at the top of SCW and not sitting in midcard. It's a break out tournament. You do well it in, you step up in SCW and it really is that simple.

Pussy: What do you feel will be the stand out match this Sunday?

HS: There's so many to choose from, I think anything can steal the show, I think anything can step up and be the match that everyone remembers for years to come. Not many places offer you seven title matches in one show, not many will put the bombshells on the same level as the men. We offer the best entertainment there is out there, we bring in the best talent and this Sunday is gonna show everyone what these people can do. We don't go and pick up nobodies off the street, we pick up talent and if these guys give it their all, any match on the card can be show stealing.

Pussy: Are you expecting any major returns on Sunday?

HS: Well you never can tell. We don't plan everything straight out, plans can change up until the start of the show. The thing with wrestling is sometimes, an opportunity will just present itself and you have to just take it.

Pussy: Doesn't that confuse people in the back?

HS: Nope, everyone know that nothing is set in stone, and things can change right before the show starts. This is why we don't deal with egos backstage, we prefer to have a non disruptive flow. Either be professional or don't let the door hit you on the arse on the way out.

Hot Stuff smiles

HS: I know, me talking about egos, the irony.

Pussy: Yes, but this is out of character.

HS: I got an ego for in character, out of character and everywhere in between.

Pussy: Right. Are we still having a week off after the supercard?

HS: Yes we are. It's good for everyone to recharge, have a break and relax. Gives me time to focus on who I'm gonna torment next.

A wide smile crosses Hot Stuff's face.

Pussy: What's your thoughts on SCW stars having Twitter accounts?

HS: They should use them more. It's their job to connect with the fans, sell a story, they should use them a lot more, before they become pointless and someone else gets the fans interest up. If you don't work all the time, someone else will come along and steal your spot. Someone else will take your thunder and you end up wondering where it all went wrong.

Pussy: Any prediction on who will break out as a star in 2014?

HS: Nope, it's all a level playing field, people need to make me see their true potential if they wanna get to the top of SCW. People need to get off their arses and make a difference. Anyone could be the next big thing if they want to.

[Mark Ward]

 
Pussy: Anyone?

HS: Anyone at all Pussy, anyone who wants to work for it.

Pussy: Well that should be enough Mark, I think I have enough for a great article. What's your plans for the rest of the day?

HS: Sleep, lots of sleep and focus. After that, it's time to focus and give Drake Green a match he will never forget.

Hot Stuff smiles as the scene fades out.



Footsteps are heard in a darkened room, one streak of light comes from an unknown source in the ceiling. Hot Stuff Mark Ward walks in to the scene, standing under the light, his blue jeans and white T-shirt, lit from the dull light, kissing down the side of his tanned face.

HS: Quiet against the grain of a normal Hot Stuff match building promo, eh?

Hot Stuff turns his head, looking around the room, his eyes narrowed as he looks in to the darkness.

HS: No hot tub, no birds in skimpy bikinis, no classy booze, or Angelica flashing her tits off or anything of the sort today during this promo.

Hot Stuff rolls his fingers through his black hair.

HS: See I've done in all, been in the big matches, beat the big opponents, but this match has a different feel to it. For weeks, I have been haunted, watching another companies title be waved around on my show, because someone wants to keep the memory of a finished company on my screens. Someone wants to keep alive something that died so long ago, someone wants to wave the flag of the past and in honesty, it sickens me, it rips the soul from my very being to see that worthless piece of tin flashed around on my show, it really does.

Hot Stuff breathes deeply, his eyes to the floor.

HS: And what gets to me so much more, is the strap is around the waist of a man who is not even honest enough with the fans, to show them who he really is.

Hot Stuff looks up and looks deep in to the camera, his eyes burning a hole through the screen.

HS: Look at it like this. We at SCW are known for killing things stone cold dead. We left the piss poor alliance and it's now jumping around like a fish out of water, gasping for life. We worked with ACW, but at the end of the day, it became that fish out of water too, before God put it out of it's misery and sent it to the ocean in the sky. ACW was dead until this one man, who has decieved you all in to thinking he loves you, has resurrected what no longer lives. He's done it through lies, he's done it through making you people believe his utter shit.

Hot Stuff puts his hands out in front of himself, palms flat upwards.

HS: Now I'm no saint, but with me, you know I'm an arsehole and you know I don't give a toss, because I'm honest about the fact that if you fuck with me, I'm gonna make your life hell, but Drake Green is deceiving you and laughing at you behind your back.

Hot Stuff nods seriously.

HS: How you ask? How is Drake Green doing this to you all? The only way the ACW title got any head of steam, got any credibility is because you lot cheered for this to happen, you lot all clapped and got excited and jumped up and down and danced and all the rest of the bollocks you have done over the last month, and do you know why you did all this? Do you know why you cheered, and clapped and got excited, and jumped up and down and danced? Do you?

Hot Stuff presses his hands together, looking in the camera.

HS: Because Drake Green fed you whatever you wanted to hear, to get you on his side. Drake Green lied to you constantly about how important you all are, just so you all bought in to the silly little title belt he flaunts off. If you people had just ignored it, Drake Green would have been nothing, he wouldn't have to lie to you for popularity. He is nothing but a cheap politician, a spin doctor, feeding you lie after lie after lie to make his cause seem worth fighting, to give himself and that title credibility. You made him something, based on lies. Feel good about yourself now?

Hot Stuff drops his hands to his sides once more.

HS: I hope that bursts the little bubble of bullshit Drake has so built around you, because you need to open your eyes and see the truth, you need to look beyond the thick layer of shit that Drake has put in front of your eyes to see that I am not the bad guy in this whole thing.

Hot Stuff mocks a fake look of shock on his face.

HS: I know, shocking right. Absolutely shocking that I could be considered the good guy, right? It's a shocking turn of events but it is all very true. Drake has tried to brainwash you all by trying to act like the good guy when the truth is, Drake Green isn't anything like you think he is. Come on, you must have thought something was odd the way he comes to the ring, talks to you all for cheap pops and to shake hands and act like Superman or something but the truth is, Drake Green is only doing this cause he needs you to be on his side, nothing more. He doesn't care about you, he cares about making his title popular.

Hot Stuff shakes his head, a look of disgust on his face.

HS: And I'm the bad guy, eh?

Hot Stuff looks in to the camera and slowly shakes his head.

HS: Here's the problem with liars, they will always get caught out in the end, they will always be exposed for the no good pieces of shit that they truly are, and Drake Green will get caught out in just the same way. This is why I'm stepping in the ring with Drake myself. Sure I've thrown a couple of former ACW people at him who just simply get the job done, but I will get the job done, I will get things done just like that and believe me when I tell you this. I am doing this for you, I am doing this all for you.

Hot Stuff points at the camera.

HS: Yes, for you, for you all, because once I take that tin pot title from him, do you really think he's gonna need you lot? Do you really think for one second he's gonna respect you all? This will bring out the real Drake Green, this will show you all that he is nothing but a selfish prick, using you all for his very own gains. That title belt is what keeps him needing you, but once it's in my possession, he is not gonna be the man he has brainwashed you all to love. That title is why he needs you and I will take that away from him and every single Drake Green "fan".... and I use the term fan very lightly, will walk up to me and say thank you, thank you Hot Stuff for showing us the light, thank you Hot Stuff for showing us that Drake Green used us all, thank you for ending that title run.

A smirk crosses Hot Stuff's face.

HS: And now I'm gonna talk to you Drake, so clean that shit out of your ears, turn the volume way up to the point of the windows shaking in your two bob motel room, just so you catch every single word I have to say to you.

Hot Stuff clears his throat.

HS: How does that feel Drake? To know that I've now let your little secret slip out that you're lying to everyone, gotta hurt a little bit. They say the title does make the man, the man makes the title, but it's the complete opposite with you. See that tin pot title of yours that makes you who you are, it's about to be ripped from your hands. People are going to sit there and see that you aren't as good as they think you are, because without that title, without the ACW name, you are nothing Drake, absolutely worthless, and who's fault it that? Got a mirror handy?

Hot Stuff points down the camera.

HS: It's you Drake, you're to blame for your own misfortunes. When I approached you to join me Drake, to join a revolution, to put you in a place where you could have grown in to, I was doing it for you. I already put together Max Burke, the next SCW Heavyweight champion, and Cyrus King, a man who wakes up just to kick some arse, and you Drake. You was gonna be a legit superstar Drake, the man who was going to take it all, be the champion you deserved to me, not being handed a title from a defunct federation no one cares about, but you threw it in my face, you picked up my offer and threw it away. Looking back on that Drake, bit of a mistake, don't you think? Do you know where you would have been right now, should you have taken that offer? The life I would have handed you Drake.

Hot Stuff looks disappointed.

HS: It would have been one you could not have imagined. You could have been fucking class instead of fucking the easiest bird on our roster after a booze filled night. You could have been nailing the celebs of the world, not cheap drunk nobodies. The finest clothes, the biggest opportunities, but you pissed on this for what reason again?

Hot Stuff smirks, slightly shaking his head.

HS: That reason was a bad one, wasn't it Drake? Looking back, I bet you wished you could turn back time and get your chance to take me up on my offer once more, you should have done it the first time around Drake, you should have been the man you truly are, instead of this arse kissing, sad excuse for a man. Now all you have is trying to screw your way through the bombshell division and that title belt.

Hot Stuff drops his head.

HS: Been a while since I've had a title run, a looooooooong time Drake but I'm in the mood for one now, and the fact of the matter now Drake, is now I'm in the mood for a title run, I'm gonna have a title run and it's coming at your expense.

A confident look crosses Hot Stuff's face.  

HS: I know those three little jokes called The Saviors have made their comment or two about being here, confronting me and all that crap, but it doesn't matter, cause Jesus himself could turn up, performing miracles, but not even he will stop me from ending your run and burying this ACW shit once and for all. No one can stop me Drake.

Hot Stuff's face changes to a much more serious look.

HS: No one Drake, no one at all, no one is gonna stop what's about to happen and what's gonna happen is simple. That title belt will be mine, it will be buried, ACW will die a horrible death, your chances of ever getting another title shot here will fall apart and you will see that when you turned down my offer, you made the biggest mistake of your worthless life. Everything you've ever worked for, everything you've ever dreamed off, everything you ever wanted, ends at My Bloody Valentine. You will have nothing left, no fans to lie to, no title to cling on to, even those little bottom feeders who hang around with you, will step away, because they will see that you are worthless. They will all see what I already know Drake, they will all see.

Hot Stuff puts his hand under his chin.

HS: I'll end ya Drake, and you know why? Just because I can.

A wide smirk crosses Hot Stuff's face.

HS: Because I'm too damn hot for you, to ever handle.

Hot Stuff wink, turning and walking away as the camera fades out.

[DrakeGreen]

 Changes

January 27th, 2014 – Barry Goldstein’s Private Jet; Somewhere Over The Pacific Ocean – 1:30 PM

[The camera fades in to a private jet flying over the Pacific Ocean, en route from California to Honolulu, Hawaii. The cabin of the plane is beautiful. Lined with Egyptian wood and trimmed with chrome. The seats are a tan, very soft leather with built in ottomans. Across the back wall are a large flat-panel television and a built-in bar. There are two flight attendants in the cabin, both young and attractive females, wearing navy blue uniforms, sitting in chairs underneath the flat panel television. Sitting across from each other, both drinking scotch, are Drake Green and his agent Barry Goldstein. Barry is wearing a striped button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a golden tie. His blonde hair is slicked back and he has a rather large, slightly evil looking grin on his face. Drake is wearing a green “Misfits” t-shirt and a pair of faded and ripped blue jeans. They cheers their scotch glasses and Barry starts to talk.]

Barry: So have you thought about what you’re gonna say yet?

Drake: What is there to think about? This is Max we’re talking about here. He’s probably gonna have his bags packed as soon as he sees me.

Barry: I don’t know, champ. He seemed liked he was growing some roots out there already. He was talking about this cute little hula dancer he met and how they were having a ‘Rock-a-hula’ time.

Drake: He said that?

[Barry raises his right hand and as if he is swearing on a bible.]

Barry: Would I lie?

Drake: You really want me to answer that question?

Barry: Well…no. But I’m not lying. I don’t think he’s gonna come back with us.

Drake: Yeah well I think I know him a little bit better than you.

Barry: You’re right this is true. Let me ask you a question, Showtime.

[Drake takes another sip of his scotch.]

Drake: Sure.

Barry: What the fuck are you wearing?

[Drake laughs.]

Drake: What? I’m on vacation.

Barry: You look like a fucking hobo for Christ’s sake. Where are your suits? You spend a fucking fortune on those suits and you’re wearing a three-dollar t-shirt from Target.

Drake: I bought it at a thrift shop actually.

Barry: Even better.

Drake: Look I’ve been meaning to ask you something too.

Barry: Shoot. You can ask me anything, Showtime.

Drake: You’ve been pretty quiet with this whole Mark Ward thing and I understand why. There’s no real extra money in it for you right now. But I gotta know…do you think I can win?

Barry: First off, no there is no money in it for me. Not extra anyway, but if we’re being honest here?

Drake: Yes…please.

Barry: I’ve got a lot of clients, man. I don’t fly with all of them to across the ocean to go convince their trainer to come back and help out. I do this shit for you because I like you and you’re my friend. But if you’re asking me if I think you can win…then the answer is yes, I do. And I don’t think you need some old slim jim eating fuck to help you either.

Drake: Hey, be nice.

Barry: I’m just saying…you got the goods kid. Now cheers me.

[The cheers glasses again and they both take a sip of their scotch.]

Barry: I’ve known you a year now, D…and you’ve never asked me that before. What’s goin’ on? You ok?

[Drake sits there for a moment running his fingertip along the edge of the glass and thinking about how to respond to Barry’s question. He thinks for a moment about the past few months and his rivalry with the head of Sin City Wrestling, “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward. He thinks about the deal with the devil that he had made with All-Pro Championship Wrestling owner JJ Dixon. He thinks about the night Mark Ward fired him from SCW and the feeling that it had left him with. He looks up at Barry and small smirk comes through his lips.]

Drake: No. I’m not ok. I’m not ok with how things are. I’m not ok with the fact that I have to fly twenty-five hundred miles across the Pacific Ocean to go get Max. I’m not ok that Giani di Luca is walking around with my SCW Heavyweight title, the title that I got screwed out of, and the title that belongs to me. It doesn’t sit well with me that I have to defend a title that I didn’t earn against a man that doesn’t deserve a shot at it either. Mark Ward is one of the biggest pieces of shit that I have ever met in my life. Truth is, if I could’ve done it all over again…I would’ve said yes.

Barry: Said yes to what?

Drake: I would’ve said yes to his offer. I would’ve joined him and I would’ve regretted it but at least I’d still have my title and all the riches that come along with it. So what if I would’ve regretted it. I fucking regret the decision I made now so what’s the difference? Shit…I don’t know. The one thing I do know is that I need Maxy back.

Barry: We could get other trainers you know. They’d probably be a hell of a lot cheaper too.

Drake: I don’t want any other trainers, Barry. I need Maxy. He’s the missing piece to all of this.

Barry: Eh, maybe you’re right.

[Both men take sips of their scotch again.]

Barry: So how serious were you just now, about Ward?

Drake: About not taking him up on his offer? Serious I guess. Can’t change the past though, Barry. I’ve chosen my path and my path leads right through him now. There’s no turning back now.

Barry: There could be.

Drake: What are you talking about?

Barry: Everything is negotiable, Drake. Whenever money is concerned people listen, you shouldn’t under estimate that. Every thing is negotiable.

[Drake sits there for a moment, once again rubbing his index finger around the edge of his glass. He stares in to his whiskey and thinks about what Barry had just said. He turns his head and looks out the window. He stares in to the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean some forty thousand feet below his Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers. He stares in to the sky and over the clouds wondering what it would’ve been like to have Mark Ward by his side at High Stakes III. What it could’ve been like these past few months as the Sin City Wrestling Heavyweight Champion, uncontested and undisputed. The Chosen Champion. He takes a deep breath and turns back toward Barry.]

Drake: I believe money would make the straightest of people bend in the scariest of ways, I do. But one this is for sure…I can’t stand “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward.

[Barry nods at Drake returns the nod with a smile. They cheers again and both take another sip as Drake turns his attention back to the window. He stares deep over the clouds again contemplating what he’s going to say when he sees his friend Max. How he knows once Max returns all will be right again. Max was the rock that supported him from underneath. Without Max…the bottom would fall out. Drake closes his eyes as the scene fades out.]

”It took me a long time to get over the death of my brother, more so than I would usually admit to someone. Truth is it still hurts every now and then. Sometimes when I walk in to an arena I still half expect to see him in the dressing room. They say time heals all wounds but I’d tend to disagree. Time doesn’t change anything….people change. When I first met you Mark I thought you were special. I thought you were the type of cutting edge promoter that this business needed. It was you, and Christian, that made the NWA what it was. That’s never been more evident than today when you look at their promoted events. But somewhere along the way something happened with you. Something inside of you made that switch flip. Who knows? Maybe it was just me being naïve and seeing the grass greener than I ever saw it before and thinking you were the right choice. Maybe you were always a piece of shit and I just never saw it.

You welcomed me with open arms and you promoted me the way I deserved to be promoted. Something JJ Dixon and the man who will not be named failed to ever do. You brought in the biggest star you could find and you paid him well for it, something I am still thankful for. But when you realized that all that money couldn’t buy me…when you realized that you could not collect me…what I saw in the man I once admired was pitiful. The way you pined after me and sent your dogs after me was quite embarrassing for you and to be honest, for all of Sin City Wrestling. Like a bully in a high school playground chasing after the lunch money his mommy never gave him you cried and stomped your feet and waited until I was at my most vulnerable position. You waited until after defeating Kevin Carter one on one in one of the most physical battles this company had ever seen and the first chance you got, you threw me right back in the ring knowing I wasn’t at 100%. You sicked Goth on me, one of the most ferocious competitors this business has ever seen, and fired me when I couldn’t win. Not to take anything away from Goth, the only Triple Crown Winner in company history, but you knew I had no chance. You knew I wasn’t at my best and you attacked like the predator that you are. I guess I can commend you for that. For seeing blood and knowing when the right time to strike would be. You truly are an animal.

It was hard at first for me to understand. I didn’t quite get why you started sending thugs like Cyrus King and Max Burke after me. Why, after all those tickets I sold for you, you wanted to run me out of Vegas. I took a long hard look at the man I was working for to see if somewhere down the line I had done something to offend the great ‘Hot Stuff’ Mark Ward and do you want to know what I found? What I saw? I found nothing. All I saw was a spoiled son of a bitch who wanted another trophy under his belt. He wanted to show Erik Staggs and Christian Underwood that the ‘Future Star of the Year’ was in his corner. That ‘Mr. Showtime’ was nothing but an extension of ‘Hot Stuff’ because clearly your career is winding down to it’s final hour. I’m sure you can almost taste that last match against Austin Parker at Blaze of Glory in March. That final moment when your story finally comes to an end. The end of an era…Mark Ward’s retirement match. I bet that scares the living shit out of you. To know that you simply can’t cut it in the ring anymore must be a truly demoralizing thought. I can see where you were desperately trying to cling to the one star who still had it all; the looks, the girls, the talent. To live vicariously through the man that was taking your company to the next level would’ve been a brilliant way to make the transition complete. Well guess what…I said no. I turned you down like I turned down a filthy whore on the strip. I had no interest in being part of whatever you were planning. I’d rather stand on my own than stand next to an egotistical maniac on the wrong side of the half century mark. You’re old and you’re finished in this business and when I show the whole world on Sunday, when I expose you to the free world, everyone else will finally know the truth. That you’re a liar. That you’re not the man you claim to be, that you’re a fraud in the worst possible way.

Fast forward to today. I have no real job, even though you pay me quite well to show up at your shows, and who’s hurting more? Is it me? I’m more inclined to think it’s you. When I come out on to that stage in the Star of the Desert Arena I want you to do yourself a favor and listen to that reaction. Listen to how the people, my people, react. They’re not cheering for you, they’re cheering for their soldier and their savior. The biggest mistake you ever did was turning on the fans that paid your salary. They are the ones that this whole thing of ours is all about, not your ego and certainly not mine either. Without them neither one of us would have anything. I wouldn’t have the strength that lives deep inside of my soul, the strength that proves to me that I have the power and will to rise above the hate that spews out of your eyes and to move beyond anything you can possibly throw at me. You have to know deep down inside that I’ll never stop coming. Even if I lose cleanly on Sunday…I’m still coming back. No matter how many times you fire me and no matter how many times you try to hold me down…the people have spoken. I am the Main Event Maker…I am Sin City Wrestling.”

January 27th, 2014 – Kauai, Hawaii – 4:30 PM


[The camera fades back in to a dance studio. The floors are a light colored wood with a high gloss that bounces the extremely bright fluorescent light back to the ceiling from the hanging lights. The far wall is covered completely by a large floor to ceiling mirror that is nearly split in half by a long balance bar that runs the entire length of the room. Loud Hawaiian Luau dancing music is playing as groups of dance partners playfully dance together with great big smiles and sounds laughter and enjoyment. A dance teacher walks in and out of the partners, smiling and approving of their steps. In the center of the room is a familiar face. Clad in white pants and a Hawaiian shirt is Maxwell Proffo. His face is full with a thick but groomed grey beard and his salt and pepper hair is close cropped and well maintained. He is dancing with a beautiful, forty-something year old woman with dark features and dark hair.

Through the crowd at the other end of the room, in the doorway we see another familiar face walk up. Drake Green, wearing a dark blue polo, gray pants, and bright brown shoes stands look on at his old buddy who still hasn’t caught him yet. His face is stubbly and his hair a bit of a mess, he focuses his distinctive green eyes on Max. Just as the music ends and the dance students start clapping, Max notices his former pupil.]

Max: D! What the hell?

[A giant smile comes across both of their faces as Max, woman in tow, scurries across the dance floor to meet his friend. He gets there and grabs ahold of Drake and squeezes him in a tight, jubilant bear hug.]

Drake: Ok, ok Maxy. I’m happy to see you too.

[Max lets him breath.]

Max: What are you doing here?

Drake: I can’t come see my friend?

Max: Yeah…what are you really doing here?

Drake: I kept hearing how great Kauai is, thought I’d stop by and check it out.

Max: It’s good to see you, D.

[The woman standing next to Max taps him on the shoulder. He looks at her and then excitedly turns back to Drake.]

Max: I almost forgot. This is Carmen.

[Drake looks the attractive older up and down and then smiles before extended his hand. Carmen grabs it and shakes it.]

Drake: Hi, I’m sorry. I’m Drake.

[She replies in a heavy Hispanic accent.

Carmen: I know you who you are. Max is always talking about you.

[Drake’s smile gets wider.]

Drake: He does he?

[Max cuts him off.]

Max: All good things.

Drake: I’m sure.

Carmen: Are you in Kauai for long?

Drake: No. Just for the day. Had to come to pick something up.

[He smiles at Max who only returns the smile with a half smirk.]

Carmen: Well you must stay for dinner.

Drake: I-

Carmen: I insist.

[Drake looks over at Max and then back to Carmen and smiles.]

Drake: Sure. Wouldn’t miss it.

Carmen: Fantastic! I’m gonna go stop at the market and I’ll see you at home.

[Drake is a bit shocked by her use of the word “home”. She kisses Max on the cheek, says goodbye to Drake and heads off. Drake waits for her to leave before asking.]

Drake: Home?

Max: What?

Drake: Home?

Max: Look, I’m gonna go hit the head and then you wanna take a walk?

Drake: Yeah, Maxy. A walk sounds good.

Max: Be right back.

[Max walks off down the hallway as Drake notices two female dancers stretching by the mirror. They smile back at him as he waves hello, killing time while he waits for Max. He walks over to say hello as the camera fades out…

…it fades back in on a Kauai beach. There is a large tiki bar with Hula music playing in the background. Sitting at a high top table facing the beach are Max and Drake. Drake is now wearing sunglasses and is drinking a tropical looking alcoholic beverage while Max is drinking a Diet Coke and smoking a cigarette. He offers Drake a smoke but he respectfully declines.]

Max: Good. You should cut the drinking too.

Drake: What? And be sober like you? I still like fun, Maxy.

Max: Eight years sober next week, brother.

Drake: Cheers.

[Drake raises his glass before taking a sip. Max chuckles and shakes his head.]

Max: So are you gonna tell me why you just flew two thousand miles or what?

Drake: I just missed ya, big guy.

Max: I know about the match with Ward, D. So I’m assuming there can be only one reason why you’re here and I just can’t do it, not now.

Drake: Can’t do what?

Max: Come back and train you, whatever. I just can’t do it right now.

[Drake takes a deep breath and circles his head around the women in the bar. He comes back to look at Max and he smiles a bit. He takes off his expensive Lacoste sunglasses and plops them down on the stone table. He looks at Max in the eye and smiles, his bright green eyes shining in the Hawaii sun.]

Drake: I need you, Max. This is the big one. This is a career defining moment and I can’t do this without you.

Max: D, we already had our career defining moment. We did it. We were World Champions man. You did it. That was our moment and we made an agreement. We agreed that when that run was over that we were gonna call it quits.

[Drake goes to interrupt him but Max holds up his hand.]

Max: I wasn’t made part of your deal with, JJ. You didn’t call me and ask what I thought because you knew I would tell you to stay in that house of yours and stay the fuck away from JJ Dixon, am I right.

[Drake smiles.]

Drake: Something like that.

Max: I just can’t do it, D. I’m making a life here now.

Drake: What with Carmen Miranda? The Chiquita banana lady? You can’t be serious. This is a vacation for hell’s sake, Maxy…this isn’t a life.

Max: It’s a life to me. It’s a pretty damn good one too. I’m retired, D.  I’m not stressed and I get to relax on the beach, take dancing lessons, and go scuba diving. We’re even talking about opening up a small little restaurant down on the strip in town.

Drake: Are you listening to yourself? You’ve known this chick for what, two months and you’re already living with her? You’re bringing the term vacation fling to a whole new level, man.

Max: I’m getting married.

[The smile suddenly drops from Drake’s face. He takes another deep breath while staring at the table before looking back up at max. He quickly grabs Max’s cigarette pack and pulls out a smoke. He scoops up the lighter and sparks up the cigarette and takes in a long drag before exhaling in to the Hawaii sky.]

Max: She’s the one, D. The real deal, I love her.

[Drake just stares at Max for a moment collecting his thoughts. He takes another drag off of the cigarette and stares at Max.]

Drake: I need you, Maxy. I wouldn’t have flown all the way here if I didn’t really need you. I can’t do this without you. This is not just a great wrestler we’re talking about. Mark Ward is maniacal, he’s narcissistic, he’s cunning, and he operates outside of any set of rules. I don’t know how to beat him at his game and unfortunately that is the game I have to play. I’m on his turf and it’s his ball game. I don’t know anything about this Carmen lady and I’m sure she’s a real nice gal but I need you and I need you to come back with me, today.

Max: I can’t-

[Drake cuts him off.]

Drake: One more match, Maxy. I promise I’ll never ask again. I’ll ever pay for your wedding.

[Drake smiles.]

Max: Drake-

[Drake cuts him off again.]

Drake: Please?

[Max looks in to Drake’s bright eyes. He sees the worry in them and looks at them as if they were his son’s eyes and his son’s pain. He lets out a long sigh before putting out his cigarette and taking a sip of his Diet Coke.]

Max: The answer is no, Drake. Not this time. If I say yes now there will just be something else next time. They’ll be one more important match that you need by your side for. I’m sorry, Drake but as it hurts me to say this…the answer is no.

Drake: Fuck you!

Max: Hey-

Drake: You know, Maxy…you’re a real ungrateful piece of shit, you know that? I’ve carried you for years now. I’ve paid your bills, your rent...fuck I even bought you the condo that you fuck little miss Guadalajara in every night.

Max: Watch your mouth, D.

Drake: You wanna go get married? Fine, do it. I don’t give a fuck. Because I know in six months you’ll be at my doorstep begging me for work or for money or probably just for my fucking attention.

Max: You need to cool down.

Drake: Nah, fuck this.

[Drake downs the rest of his drink and he picks his Lacoste sunglasses up and slides them back on to his face before getting up off of his stool.]

Max: Don’t be like this, D.

Drake: What do you want me to be like?

Max: I don’t know, happy for me maybe?

Drake: Happy? I tell you what, Maxy. Fuck you and fuck your happiness. I’ve gotten this far on my own I’ll do the rest myself. We were a team, man. We were gonna go conquer the world together, remember? Have a nice wedding, asshole.

[Drake takes one more drag and then flicks the cigarette out on to the beach before turning to walk away.]

Max: Drake! Come on…

[Drake, with his back turned, holds up his middle finger in Max’s direction as he walks away. Max scratches his and then slams his fist on to the high top table as the camera fades out.]

January 29th, 2014 – Drake’s Mountain House; Bakersfield, CA – 10:45 PM

[The camera fades in on the exterior of Drake’s home in the Tehachapi Mountains. A deep fog settles over the gravel driveway leading up to the rather large wood and stone home nestled between a wide clearing in the mountain. A slight drizzle slaps off of the ground, as the rather cool California mountain air seems thicker than usual. The loud grumble of an SUV is heard as it makes its way up the gravel driveway. The dark blue Ford Edge pulls past the three garage doors and makes its way to the front of the house, coming to a stop in front of the tall double doors in the front of the house. The engine cuts out and a woman slips out of the driver’s side, scurrying through the light rain with a hooded jacket on. She gets to the doors and slips off her hood showing her face. It’s one half of the SCW Bombshell Tag Team Champions, Misty. She looks in to the sidelight window next to the door and tries her best to fix her hair before she rings the bell on the right side of the doors and patiently waits for a response. Nothing. She rings the bell again. Still nothing. This time she tries a different approach and knocks a few times on the heavy door. Again, nothing. After another moment of impatient waiting she tries the handle; it opens. She creeks open the door in to the dark house and calls out for its owner.]

Misty: Hello? Drake?

[Still no answer. She walks in to the house closing the door behind her. She gets startled for a moment, as she doesn’t expect the loud bang behind her from the heavy oak door. She looks through the main hall, searching for any sight of her friend. She moves in to the living room where empty bottles of beer and liquor are spread out across the table in front of the Italian leather couch. She looks around and is startled again as she sees Drake, at the far wall of the living room, staring out of the floor to ceiling windows.]

Misty: Drake?

[He turns around, a bit disorientated, and sees her. He is wearing a blue sweater, gray pants, and bright brown leather shoes. His bright green eyes are surrounded by a bit of blood shot and his face now has its familiar beard returned. He smiles a bit before he takes a swig of the beer in his hand.]

Drake: Hey you.

Misty: Didn’t you hear me ringing the bell?

Drake: No. I was distracted, what are you doing here?

Misty: What do you mean? You called me and told me you were freaking out and I needed to come here right away?

Drake: I did?

Misty: Yes, you did. I just drove five hours from Vegas to get here because you did.

Drake: I don’t remember.

[He steps forward, finishing his beer before setting it down on the table. He walks closes to Misty and grabs her giving her a tight hug. He holds her close and after a second of reluctance, she returns the embrace.]

Misty: Are you ok?

Drake: Just wanna hug you for a second.

[Misty looks confused.]

Misty: Ok…

[Drake lets go and starts to make his way back over to the window. Misty, puzzled by her friend’s actions, slips off her coat and lays it on the couch before walking over to join him. As she walks over she notices more empty bottles and random articles of clothing, including women’s, spread around the room.]

Misty: Been having a party?

[Drake ignores her and points out the window.]

Drake: Look how beautiful that is. The stone wall, the meadow, the trees. I can stare out here for hours.

Misty: Yeah, it’s gorgeous. Look-

[Drake cuts her off.]

Drake: I think sometimes about just living out there, you know? Just fucking forget everything and being my own man. A mountain man…

[He chuckles at himself.]

Misty: How much have you had to drink?

[He looks around the room, staring at all of the empty bottles before turning back to Misty with a confused look on his face.]

Drake: A few, I guess.

[She stares in to his bloodshot eyes and a small feeling of pity comes over her. She looks over his untrimmed beard and his soft lips and she resists every urge to grab him and kiss him. She tries to sidetrack her mind, grasping at random thoughts.]

Misty: Where’s Max? I thought you said you were going to Hawaii to get him to help you train?

Drake: Yeah well, he’s not coming.

Misty: What, why? This is one of the most important matches of your career! How could he not be here?

[Drake closes his eyes for a moment, he opens them back up and they seem to have welled up a bit.]

Drake: He met someone…he’s in love.

Misty: You’re kidding?

Drake: Nope. Old Maxy is in love. He’s getting married too.

[Misty smiles.]

Misty: That’s incredible! When is the wedding? Is he having it down there or up this way? Ooh, you could have it for him out here. That would be so beautiful-

[Drake cuts her off again.]

Drake: I don’t know. I’m not going.

[Drake turns and walks over to the desk on the side of the room and picks up the bottle of expensive scotch that is sitting there. He pops it open and takes a swig.]

Misty: Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re gonna go. He’s your best friend…he’s family.

Drake: Look, I don’t wanna talk about him right now.

[Drake sets the bottle down and walks back over to Misty. He wraps his right arm around her back and sets his left hand up on her cheek and stares down in to her eyes.]

Misty: Drake, don’t…

Drake: Don’t do what?

Misty: This. You know I’m with Seth now. We can’t do this.

Drake: Come on, Misty. You really think I’m gonna believe that you just drove five hours from Vegas to stay here with me, just because I asked you to? I don’t even remember asking you…

Misty: That’s because you’re wasted. And for your information I have a hotel room in town.

[Misty shrugs off Drake’s advances.]

Misty: I didn’t come here for this. Look, you’re obviously going through a rough time. I just wanted to make sure my friend was ok.

[Drake gets angry.]

Drake: Yeah well don’t worry. I’m just fine.

[Drake turns away from her and grabs the bottle of scotch, taking another swig. Misty puts her hands on his shoulders and tries to calm him down a bit.]

Misty: I didn’t mean to-

[Drake turns around quickly, interrupting her again.]

Drake: You didn’t mean to what? Come here and rub it in my face that you have a boyfriend? That Max isn’t around anymore?  That I’m up here all alone getting drunk?

[Drake grabs Misty by her arm and moves in closer.]

Drake: Where do you get off coming in to my house and judging me? Who the fuck do you think you are?

[Misty tries to back away but Drake keeps moving forward, eventually backing her right up against the wall while still holding on to her arm.]

Misty: I didn’t-

Drake: ‘Cause you’re so perfect right, Misty? Everyone loves you right?

Misty: I don’t-

Drake: Wrong! Remember who the only person who would talk to you on that beach was, Misty? It was me. Not Vixen, not Simon Jones, and certainly not Spike fucking Staggs.

Misty: Why are you-

Drake: You’re pathetic. You have to team with your baby daddy’s girlfriend just so your daughter will talk to you. How dare you come in to my house with your condescending attitude and try to make me feel bad for who I am. I’m proud of who I am. Who are you huh? Do you even fucking know any more?!

Misty: You’re hurting me!

[Drake snaps out of it for a second and realizes the force he’s using to pin down Misty’s arm. He lets go, confused with what he’s done, as Misty pushes passed him and grabs her jacket off of the couch. She goes to walk toward the hall leading to the front door as Drake tries to call out to her.]

Drake: Misty-

Misty: Fuck you!

[SLAM! She pulls the door closed as hard as she can as she leaves, leaving Drake all alone in his dark living room. He picks up his bottle of fine scotch and takes another drink as he goes to look out his window again. As he walks over to the far wall something catches his eye. He looks over to see the picture on the wall of his younger self with Max. He takes another drink, still staring at the picture and a scowl comes over his face. He goes to set the bottle down but at the last second his eyes narrow and his scowl gets wider. He lifts up the expensive bottle of scotch and hauls it at the picture.

SMASH!

A small smirk comes over his face as he watches the fine spirit slowly drip down Max’s face. He turns back over to the window and stares down at the meadow as the scene fades out.]

”I try so hard to be something, to be someone. This beacon of light for people to look up to and reach for. Is that really me? Honestly I don’t even know anymore. Barry asked me if I could change things would I go back and join you? Would I betray that hope that my people shower upon me? The truth is I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if something out there will be greater than what I am doing now. I know deep down inside that I’m not at my full potential. I know I can do much, much more. But would I do it with you? Would I do it as a part of your ‘Supremacy’…? Not a fucking chance.

These past few days have been the toughest for me in a while. My only really friend has left me and what did he actually leave me with? A drug abusing agent who only really likes me because I make him money hand over fist? A woman who bothers the living shit out of me out of me but for some reason I have this nagging feeling that I actually care about her. The fans? I’ve put my body on the line for years for these guys and for what? Not one ‘Showtime’ chant was uttered through your arenas when I was gone. No one tweeted me begging for me to come back. As soon as I was gone they were all cheering for Giani di Luca like I had never existed so why is it that I feel some sort of allegiance to them? Why do I feel like I need to be their savior anymore? Was I even in the first place?

The truth is every time I start to question my beliefs, when I start to question who I am, it seems like it is always because I am backed in to a corner by someone like you. Every time I feel like I am down, it’s some over cocky douchebag like you that tries to push me in to that corner. Some self-absorbed prick like you that tries to make me feel like I’m not capable of being that guy. The one that can put the people on to his back and lift them up to new heights that they’ve never even dreamed of seeing before. Well this time I’m finally saying no. I’m not letting you put your foot on my throat anymore. This is my time and I’ve earned it. These people deserve to see me at the top of the mountain and more importantly…I deserve it. I deserve it for putting up with the likes of you for the past dozen or so years. The countless amounts of promoters and owners that told me I wasn’t big enough to be in the main event and the plethora of Superstars over the years that overlooked me and thought I wasn’t worth the tights I was wearing. That I wasn’t ‘hardcore’ enough or that I wasn’t ‘marketable’ enough.

Well I got news for you Mark, I’m better than them all.  For years I tried to climb to the top and I was pushed down time and time again. One day I decided to put on a suit and call myself ‘Mr. Showtime’ and look what happens. Multi-million dollar deals from punks like you, main event matches, and the support of one million ‘Showtoppers’ strong. Who knew that’s all it took. So when I call myself ‘Mr. Showtime’ and I walk down to the ring with my $1,000 suit on and my $10,000 watch reflecting light and blinding Jason Adams…is it an act? Absolutely, I’d rather be wearing my Chuck Taylor’s and a Ramones t-shirt than look like a movie star. But when I get in that ring, when I pick up that microphone and salute the fans that are cheering for me, is that for real? You bet your over inflated ego it is. I may not really be that overdressed Showstopper at heart but I promise you one thing. Right down to the core of my bones….I am the ‘Man of the People’. So go ahead, pull out all of your stops on Sunday because you’re gonna need them. There’s no stopping this train that I’m on and unfortunately you’re too washed up to even slow it down. This is my time, this is my year, and nothing is going to get in my way.”
>[Fade to black.]