Sometime in the late 19th Century
Western Arabia - East of the Sinai Peninsula
The sun is blazing across the western asian sky as Demetrios Thessos and his traveling crew of archaeologists and laborers cross the horizon on their horses, camels, and wagons. Dressed in a white shirt and a matching white waistcoat, Demetrios wipes the sweat from his brow beneath his straw fedora as his horse trots through the sandy terrain. His lieutenant, Barkava al Whadi, rides up next to him.
Barkava: Sayidi Thessos..
Al Whadi is a burly man with a matching burly beard. His oversized white tunic is covered in dirt and his fez is slightly stained from sweat. He struggles to keep his camel in stride with Demetrios.
Demetrios: Yes, Barkava…
Barkava: I think the men...I think we must rest, sayidi.
Thessos turns back to Barkava.
Demetrios: You’re probably right, al Whadi. But there is nowhere to stop for nearly a day; we must move forward toward Medina. We cannot camp in the desert.
Barkava: I understand, sayidi. But the men...there is a camp. Just a few hours north.
Thessos stops his horse, and Barakava follows by slowing his camel to a halt.
Demetrios: A Bedouin camp? We can’t camp there, al Whadi. Are you mad?
His mix of an english and greek accent easily gives away his concerned tone.
Demetrios: We can’t stop there...not with…
He moves closer.
Demetrios: We can’t trust our own men let alone some inbred nomadic tribe in the desert.
Barkava: I understand, sayidi. But I fear that if we do not give the men some rest, fresh water, and a woman...they will become...how do you say...unruly.
Thessos looks at Barkava for a moment. He looks back at his now halted convoy. He looks at the tired and sweaty faces of his men as they look around the group to see why they have stopped.
Demetrios: Prepare the men to move north, Barkava.
Barkava: Yes, sayidi. I will send word through the convoy.
Thessos peers in the distance.
Demetrios: I hope you’re right about this. Otherwise, we may all be damned.
He turns back toward the horizon as the camera cuts.
Tuesday - 21st of April, Two Thousand and Twenty AD
Saxon Hotel - Las Vegas, NV
The Saxon Hotel lobby is busier than you would expect for times like these. SCW staff and talent are going through the screening process again as they return from their break. The hustle of the lobby is broken as a loud man walks through the sliding double doors in the entrance. His thick grey hair matches his thick gray beard. His skin is tanned from years of abuse from the sun and his eyes have crows-feet that seem to stretch across his head. He is wearing a large over-sized red, black and white robe which covers his dirty tan tunic. His feet are wrapped in aged leather sandals and in his right hand he carries a long wooden staff. He is Tiberius the Great, of Elysia.
Tiberius: I saw thrones, and seated on them were those to whom the authority to judge was committed. Also I saw the souls of those who had been beheaded for the testimony of God and for the word of God, and those who had not worshiped the beast or its image and had not received its mark on their foreheads or their hands. They came to life and reigned with God for a thousand years.
The people in the lobby stop, and look around at this wild-haired dirty man. He steps forward, pointing and staring at a random man.
Tiberius: But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death
The man just stares at Tiberius, shocked. Tiberius returns the stare, pointing his staff and widening his eyes, until he is interrupted.
“Ah-hem”
Tiberius turns furiously to his left, still widening his eyes, and sees a young woman standing next to him, about six feet away, in a bright yellow dress. Just above her left breasts sits a name tag that reads “Hello My Name is Tanya”. Her pale arms are covered in freckles and her dark black hair is stretched back into a tight bun. She raises her hand into a waving motion as she greets Tiberius.
Tanya: Hi! You must be Tiberius Eliza. I’m Tanya and-
He cuts her off.
Tiberius: Of Eh-Lee-Zee-Uh!!!!
He phonetically sounds out his name for her.
Tanya: Right, sorry. Tiberius of Elysia. My name is Tanya and I work for Sin City Wrestling. I’m here to help you adjust to life here at the Saxon Hotel, which will be your home over the next several weeks.
Tiberius quickly retorts.
Tiberius: For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.
Tanya just stares at him for a second. Then she smiles and uppercuts the air.
Tanya: Well that’s great! If you follow me we can get you checked in and ready to go!
Tiberius gives her a bit of side eye before following her toward a large open room where a male nurse stands waiting for them. He is wearing scrubs and latex gloves, as well as a scrub skull cap and a N95 mask.
Tanya: Hi Stan, this is Tiberius. He’s joining us here at the Saxon today. Do you think we can get him tested and sorted?
Stan, the male nurse, smiles with his eyes.
Stan: Sure thing, Tanya. Hi Tiberius...I’m Stan.
Tiberius again stares at him with his wide eyes, before responding by raising his voice.
Tiberius: Who is this devil before me?
Tanya shakes her head.
Tanya: No...this Stan. S-t-a-n. He’s going to check you for the Covid-19 virus.
Tiberius shoots her a quick look before turning back to Stan.
Tiberius: Touch me and I will bring the wrath of God upon this unholy dwelling.
Stan looks at Tiberius and then to Tanya, as if to say ‘A little help here?’
Tanya: Stan here is just doing his job. He’s just going to insert that swab into your nose to make sure you aren’t sick. Ok?
He turns back to Stan.
Tiberius: I do not approve…
Stan goes to stick the long cotton swab into Tiberius’ nose.
SMACK!
Tiberius smacks the swab out of the male nurse’s hand.
Tiberius: Don’t you dare touch me with your SCIENCE!
He leans forward and whispers toward him.
Tiberius: You filthy wizard…
Tanya: Tiberius! You can not behave this way. Now if you want to stay here Stan has to perform this test. Otherwise, you’ll have to leave.
TIberius goes to speak.
Tanya: No! Not until after Stan swabs you.
Tiberius rolls his eyes and then turns back toward Stan.
Tiberius: Do your worst masked science man.
Stan roughly swabs Tiberius’ nose and then walks away.
Tanya: That wasn’t so bad, how do you feel?
Tiberius: I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us
Tayna shakes her head quickly.
Tanya: Ok then. Well if you’ll follow me I can bring you to the waiting area where you can sit while they analyze your results.
Tiberius grabs his staff and follows Tanya into the waiting area where several other SCW staff are waiting for their test results.
Sometime in the late 19th Century
Midian Region - Western Arabia
The afternoon sun beats down on Thessos’ convoy as it rolls into the Bedouin camp that Barkava had recommended for much needed rest and rejuvenation. As the group pulls in, Thessos and al Whadi can see a Bedouin shepherd and what looks like his children; a teenaged young man and a boy, around the age of ten. They stand in front of a large basin full of water, almost fountain-like, and several camels drink from the dirty desert water store. The man who is surprisingly light-skinned, is wearing a dark purple turban and an oversized robe, peers into the archaeologist as he gets closer. His two children wear near identical tan tunics as their father, although only the older son dons a similar robe and turban. As Demtrios and Barkava get close to the man, Thessos removes his hat as a sign of peace and goodwill.
Demetrios: Good day, sayidi. I apologize for intruding into your camp like this.
Thessos gazes around the large nomadic camp and sees the dozens of people that this man in front of him must lead. He tries to hide his skepticism and fear but nearly anyone could read it written across his face.
Demetrios: I am Demetrios Thessos and this is my man, Barkava.
Al Whadi removes his fez and tips it toward the Bedouin as a sign of peace.
The man stares at him for a moment before responding.
Man: I am Romul, this is my son Galba.
He points to his elder son.
Romul: What can we do for you, Demetrios?
Thessos exhales deeply and points to the hot, limitless desert.
Demetrios: My men are tired and of thirst. We were hoping to camp here with you for the night. We have food and supplies and we can share with you and your family. But we do not have water.
Romul: And what business do you and your men have here, in Midian?
Demetrios: None, sayidi. We are traveling through is all. We are hoping to get to Medina tomorrow and then take transport back to Cairo.
Romul: And what is your cargo?
He points to the large wagons in the middle of the convoy, where on each a man sits next to the driver carrying a musket.
Thessos looks back towards the wagons and then turns back to Romul.
Demetrios: Nothing. We have silks and tapestries mostly, some old clay pots and bowls.
Romul nods.
Romul: You may stay the night. Come, you may wash up in my tent.
Relieved, Thessos nods to Barkava who then turns his camel around and delivers the news to the rest of the convoy. Demetrios then pulls up to the basin and then dismounts. He goes to bring his horse toward the trough when a woman, with all but her eyes covered in garments, grabs the reins from him.
Woman: Allow me, sayidi.
He smiles at her.
Demetiros: Of course, thank you.
Thessos walks over to Romul and Galba and the three men begin to walk toward the large tent in the center of the camp. The young boy follows close behind.
Demetrios: I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality, Romul. My men are very tired. It has been a long journey.
Romul: Guests are always welcome here, Mr. Thessos. We serve quite often as a rest stop for men and convoys traveling through. All we ask is that if there are goods to be traded that we receive fair and honest treatment.
Demetrios: Of course, of course.
Thessos follows them into the large tent. Inside, several half naked women are seen cleaning and preparing what looks like an afternoon snack. They bring trays of fresh fruit and bread into the tent, placing them on the large trestle table in the center of the room. Thessos cannot help but gawk at the beautiful Arabian women. Romul notices him.
Romul: See something you like, Mr. Thessos?
Demetrios doesn’t know how to respond.
Romul: If you don’t say yes we will think you ghurayb.
He and his son chuckle.
Demetrios: Yes, of course. I was just trying to be polite.
Romul: Please, relax.
Romul gestures to Demetrios to sit down in the circle of pillows next to his table. As he sits, two of the women come over and remove his shoes and one comes behind him with a warm, wet towel and washes his neck.
Demetrios: Forgive me for asking but is this how all of your guests are treated, Romul?
Romul laughs.
Romul: Only the European ones that ride in with a thousand armed Arabs at their back.
Galba: The rifles, sayidi. How many do you have?
Romul: Forgive my son, sayidi.
Romul sits across from Thessos.
Romul: He gets excited with these things.
Demetrios: Well we have many. I’m happy to leave some in your possession...as gratitude.
Galba: Thank you, sayidi.
Romul: Now go, Galba. Please take care of Mr. Thessos’ men.
Galba: Yes, of course, father.
Demetrios watches as Galba and then women quietly leave the tent, leaving him with just Romul and the boy, who is sitting across the tent reading.
Demetrios: Your young, one. He doesn’t say much.
Romul looks back at him, almost in disgust.
Romul: Yes. He doesn’t speak much.
Thessos notices that Romul is uncomfortable with the questions and quickly changes the subject.
Demetrios: Romul, may I ask, you and your children are not Arab. AYou skin is not dark. From what country did your family migrate from?
Romul drinks a sip of what looks like wine.
Romul: My people are of Roman descent but we’ve been here in these deserts for many years.
Demetrios: I see. May I ask-
His host cuts him off as he stands up.
Romul: Unfortunately you may not as there is something I must attend to.
Thessos begins to get up as well.
Romul: Please.
He smiles at his guest.
Romul: Enjoy yourself, sayidi. My eahirat will tend to you now.
Demetrios is confused as he watches Romul walk away. Walking past him and towards Thessos are two topless women who descend upon him as the scene cuts out.
Tuesday - 24th of April, Two Thousand and Twenty AD
Saxon Hotel - Las Vegas, NV
The scene fades back into a small but luxurious hotel room. The room is eerily silent as all that can be heard are the quiet rumblings of the central air conditioning and the buzzing of the lights. We see into the bathroom and standing in the center of the italian marbled floor is a naked Tiberius. His muscled body is covered in a layer of filmy sweat as he stands in the middle of the room with his eyes closed. He brings both of his together quickly in a prayer position.
CLAP!
He opens his eyes and the room engulfed itself in flames around the naked Tiberius.
Tiberius:And the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush. He looked, and behold, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed. The work of our Lord has just begun. Sin shall be cast out in every rung of the ladder that leads to our saviour. I will begin this weekend in earnest and strike down the first challenge that is put in front of me from the Lord.
He inhales.
Tiberius: Stephen Callaway is a lost yet inconsequential soul. He is just the first in a very long line of men, and women, that will fall victim to the great Cleanse that is before them. In your name, I am. In your name, so shall they be.
He exhales.
Tiberius: I am not a man, nor am I a God. I am just the vessel that his word travels through. In his name shall I present the sacrifice of Stephen Callaway. In his name shall I present to his alter the body of the slain Callaway and for all of eternity shall my sacrifice ring true. As I tear down the man once known as Callaway, I will present the people of Sin City Wrestling with a choice. They will see the true wrath of God. The true message from the Isle of the Blessed shall be presented to be seen by all.
He inhales, the fire roaring around him.
Tiberius: This Sunday, the 26th of April, marks the beginning of a new dawn. It begins a plan set in motion all those years ago by our Lord to regain control of a world of sinners, and the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all the liars. This week it begins. In your name, I am. In your name, so shall they be.
His eyes shut again and the flames disappear. Again, Tiberius stands naked, sweating, in the middle of a bright and pristine Italian marble bathroom.
Sometime in the late 19th Century
Romul’s Camp - Midian Region - Western Arabia
Thessos slowly opens his eyes. He has been asleep for some time for as he awakes, nightfall has descended upon the Bedouin camp. He lay shirtless and shoeless in a bed of pillows in the large tent of his host, Romul. Candles light the tent and the sound of dancing, drinking, and fire can be heard outside. He slowly sits up and begins looking for his shirt when he realizes the young child of Romul’s is sitting right in front of him, staring at him. He lets out a quick shriek.
Demetrios: Ah boy, I did not see you there.
He begins to put on his shirt.
Demetrios: Where are your father and brother?
He looks up at the boy who still just stares.
Demetrios: You do not speak much.
Boy: No.
Demetrios: Ah but you do speak.
Boy: Yes.
Demetrios: Tell me, boy, what is your name?
Again the boy just stares.
Demetrios: Ok, I guess I’ll just call you ‘boy’ then.
He slips his waistcoat on over his shirt and then looks for his shoes.
Boy: Why are you here?
Demetrios: For rest. Do not worry, my men will be out of your hair in the morning.
Boy: No, I mean, why are you here? In Arabia. You don’t belong here.
Thessos sits back in the pillows, astonished by the brazen question asked by such a young boy.
Demetrios: Well that is a very direct question, boy.
Boy: Yes.
Thessos smiles.
Demetrios: I’m an archaeologist. Do you know what that is?
The boy shakes his head and Demetrios goes back to putting his shoes back on.
Demetrios: Well, I’ll tell you. I am somewhat of a modern day explorer. I look for ancient artifacts. We find suspected locations where items may have been buried or lost over time and excavate the area and see what we can find.
Boy: So you’re a grave robber?
Demetrios: No. I’m a historian.
Boy: What do you do with the items that you find, buried by someone who was not you? Do you leave them there?
Thessos seems challenged by the boy’s question.
Demetrios: No. We catalog them and store them and sell them to museums. This way the world can see these objects.
Boy: Sounds like a grave robber to me.
Demetrios: Well, I will have to respectfully disagree, boy.
He stands up and begins walking toward the entrance of the tent.
Boy: And what will you do with your most recent find?
Demetrios: The silks? They will go to the great museum in Cairo, they were all Pharoah-
The boy cuts him off.
Boy: So you are not only a thief but you are a liar as well…
Demetrios: Excuse me?
Boy: Your convoy does not transport silk...or tapestries...nor clay pots.
Demetrios: And how do you know, boy? Have you been snooping where you do not belong?
He grabs the boy on his shoulders.
Demetrios: Tell me, what do you know.
Boy: I know you have made God angry. His wrath follows you to this camp.
Thessos lets out a curious smile.
Demetrios: And do tell me, boy, what would make you say such things.
Boy: God has told, sayidi. He says you stole from him.
Thessos lets go of the boy’s shoulders and gently de-wrinkles his tunic.
Demetrios: I think your imagination has run wild, boy. I shall have a drink and toast to you.
Thessos goes to leave the tent.
Boy: You’ll never leave this camp, Demetrios.
Thessos stops in his tracks.
Boy: God is angry with you. He will deal with you.
Demetrios turns back to the boy.
Demetrios: Angry with me? Do tell me, boy, since God does have your ear. Who are you to claim to speak with god. You are nothing but an inbred desert boy. Why would God speak with you? You don’t even have a name.
The boy stands up.
Boy: My name is Tiberius.
