Author Topic: Old Role Plays  (Read 855 times)

Offline DrakeGreen

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Old Role Plays
« on: June 18, 2018, 10:01:04 PM »
 So I was going through some old Drake RPs and found this gem. This was the first RP I ever wrote for this version of Drake. I believe it was for his ACW debut match. There is zero match focus, as was my style back then (although I still suck at promos lol) but it really brought me back to what Drake was like years ago and reminds why he is the way he is these days. Anyways, enjoy....

Two Weeks Earlier

[The camera fades in to the exterior of a brick building on a cold, rainy February night in Newark, NJ. The block is busy for a wet winter night. Cars zoom by as if they had no regard for city speed limits. Outside of the building there are three men desperately trying to stay dry while smoking their cigarettes. Across the street, a newspaper stand owner is struggling with his umbrella trying to keep his goods dry. Two women step out of a side door of the brick building wearing raincoats, go-go boots, and a half-ton of make-up. One is taller than the other with her bright blonde hair up in a bun. The other, a brunette with long, wavy hair that just barely grazing the small of her back. They light up a cigarette and start talking.]

Girl 1: Can you believe that guy at the bar?

Girl 2: I know what the hell is his problem? He keeps staring at Rosie. You know he's been here every night this week. He never pays for nothin', either. Just stares and drinks.

Girl 1: Did you hear what he did last night?

Girl 2: No. What?

Girl 1: He followed her outside when she was leaving with Reno.

Girl 2: Are you for real?

Girl 1: Dead serious. Started goin' off on how he wanted to save her and take her home.

Girl 2: Sounds like a real creep.

Girl 1: I don't know. Sounds kinda sweet to me.

Girl 2: Are you kidding me Dani? If that man follows me you best believe I'm spraying my pepper spray all up in his face.

Girl 1: I'm just sayin'. What if he's for real. You know. Not some creep but some real man wantin' to take care of her and shit. Not some drug dealer like Reno who just wants her around for show.

Girl 2: You a hopeless romantic Dani.

[Girl 1 laughs.]

Girl 1: Maybe. But that boy is cute though...

Girl 2: Yeah he is...

[Both girls start giggling as the side door swings open. A big burly man walks out with an angry look on his face that matches his angry beard.]

Bouncer: Lacey, Dani! Get your asses inside. You're going on in 5!

Girl 2: Relax Jojo. We're going.

Girl 1: Yeah. Jojo. Why you always so mean?

[Girl 1 kisses the Bouncer on his cheek as she walks by]

Bouncer: You know I don't like the rain girl. Makin' me come out in this crap weather.

Girl 1: Oh Jojo. You're so silly.

[The camera follows as the girls walk inside. They head into a dressing room with a half dozen or so half naked women, putting bikinis and lingerie on. They stop at their respective vanities and the camera keeps moving, swooping through the dressing room past all of the women. As the camera leaves the dressing room it moves down a hallway and around a corner. It passes a man selling drugs to a young woman who is also half naked, and then it zooms by her companion who is testing the dealer's product. It moves into a bigger room and finally we get the whole picture. This tiny little brick building houses a dirty, seedy, hole-in-the-wall Newark strip club. There are a number of shady looking characters sprinkled throughout the main room, both men and women alike, taking in the scenery. The scenery, of course, is a beautiful young red headed woman. She doesn't seem like the rest of the dancers in the club; she's got a different light about her. A way, almost angelic, that makes your heart skip a beat. Her eyes are blue as the ocean, and her lips as red as the devil. There's no wonder she has everyone's attention. Everyone, that is, except a young man with dark hair sitting some twenty feet away from her at the bar. Dressed in blue jeans and a blue and white flannel shirt, he is the only one in the room with his back to her. Even the other dancers can't help but stop for a moment and appreciate her. The only things this man seems to notice or appreciate are his beverages. A short glass of scotch nestled tightly in his left hand and a tall bottle of Bud in his right hand. The man is Drake Green. He looks up, straight ahead at the bartender, and speaks as if it was for the first time in hours.]

Drake: Hey! Barkeep!

[The bartender, a small, skinny, runt of a man doesn't even notice him. He's busy peering through his small round eyeglasses at the young girl dancing on the stage. With one hand on the bar and the other rubbing his shiny bald head, he gazes straight ahead not giving Drake any mind.]

Drake: Hey! Barkeep!

[Drake grabs a peanut out of the bowl sitting on the bar in front of him and chucks it at the bartender's shiny bald head. Startled, the bartender flips around and stares at the man.]

Bartender: Hey! I told you stop doing that!

Drake: Just pour the scotch.

[The bartender grabs a bottle of cheap scotch out of the well and starts to pour the glass. He notices Drake starting to sway slightly with his eyes closed.]

Bartender: Hey buddy, you ok?

[Drake snaps out of it.]

Man: Yeah....I'm fine.

[He takes the shot and then a swig of the beer. He shakes his head trying to ease the booze down his throat and then spins around in the stool. A dancer in lingerie walks by an makes an offer for a dance, but he impolitely refuses. His eyes wander around the room, passing over a drugged out junkie sitting in a booth against the back wall and then onto an overweight man with a goatee getting a lap dance from an Asian dancer. He continues to pan around the room but stops suddenly as his eyes graze over the redhead dancing on the stage. He begins an almost trance-like stare, tuning out everything else around him. It gets so intense that he doesn't even notice a man directly next to him, screaming his name trying to get his attention.]

Max: Drake! Drake!

[Max is a middle-aged, well-built man with gray hair that still has specks of black sprinkled around. His eyes are small and dark, and his face is covered with a three-day- old shadow of gray facial hair. His bright aqua-green Hawaiian shirt screams louder than his cries to get his friend's attention.]

Max: Drake!

[Drake finally turns to face Max and a look of surprise comes over his face.]

Drake: Max?

[He asks in a groggy tone.]

Max: Yeah Drake. It's me. You ok?

[Drake jumps up quickly and throws himself on his old friend, giving him a great, big, giant hug]

Drake: Oh man! This is awesome.

Max: Ok, ok buddy. Calm down.

[Drake sits back down, now with a big smile on his face.]

Drake: Barkeep! A brewksi for my friend!

[Max motions off the bartender.]

Max: No no, I'm good. Thanks.

Drake: What?

Max: I'm a friend of Bill W now, D.

Drake: Who the fuck is that?

Max: It means I'm sober.

Drake: Oh.

[Drake slumps a little in stool in a slightly disappointed way.]

Max: Listen D, are you ok?

Drake: Yeah...of course.

Max: I mean, I've been looking for you forever...

Drake: How did you find me anyway?

Max: It wasn't easy.

[Drake throws back his shot.]

Drake: Barkeep!

[Drake throws another peanut at his head, this time smacking it off of his glasses. The bartender walks over and pours the shot for Drake. He walks away mumbling insults under his breath.]

Max: That wasn't very nice.

Drake: Ah screw him! He pours light anyway.

Max: Well you could probably use a lighter pour.

Drake: Is that why you found me Max? So you could start lecturing me again on all the things I'm still doing wrong?

Max: I didn't come here for that D...

[Drake cuts him off.]

Drake: Then why did you come here?

Max: Because I was worried about you. The way we left things off. I said some things that I really didn't mean and I …

[Drake cuts him off again, pointing toward the stage.]

Drake: Maxy, look at her.

Max: Who? The stripper?

Drake: She's not a stripper. She's a dancer.

Max: Excuse me, the dancer...

Drake: She's an angel.

[Max looks her up and down as she dances.]

Max: Well, she certainly is something, isn't she? Look D, can we go somewhere? Maybe grab a cup of coffee or something and talk?

Drake: Talk about what Max?

Max: You know, life. Your life. Maybe the ring..

Drake: Nah eff that man. I'm staying here with her.

[Drake smiles and points to the red-head on the stage.]

Max: Will you stop it with the stripper?

Drake: Dancer!

Max: Whatever. We have to talk D...

[Drake turns and faces Max and takes another shot of scotch.]

Drake: Look, I don't know why you came Max and I honestly don't give a shit. I'm glad you're here. But I'm not gonna go anywhere and talk with you and I'm not gonna cool it with the stripper.

Max: Dancer.

Drake: Whatever. Do me a favor? Either have a drink and shut the fuck up or leave. I've got some more important things to do than to listen to you preach about Bill W and the patron saints of wrestling.

Max: Oh yeah? Like what?

Drake: Like dancing!

[Drake smiles and starts to dance around very slowly to the loud music playing in the bar and Max starts to chuckle.]

Max: You're an asshole, you know that?

Drake: Absolutely!

[They both start laughing and turn over to the bar. Max motions for the bartender]

Max: Soda please.

[The bartender pours the glass of club soda and walks away.]

Max: Well if you wont go anywhere I'll guess we'll have to talk here.

Drake: Ok old man. Lay it on me.

[Max takes a folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of his khakis and hands it to Drake. As Drake unfolds it the camera picks up the heading “NWA”. Underneath it can be seen the anagrams ACW and BACW.]

Drake: I know these places.

Max: This is what I'm talkin' about D. These are the kind of places...

[Drake cuts him off.]

Drake: Max. You gotta cool it with this. I'm done with wrestling. My life is different now.

Max: I'll say. You get drunk all day, in a strip club no less. God knows what else you're putting into your body. You can't live life like this D. I owe it to your father not to…

Drake: [Getting angry.] What do you know old man? Huh? What the fuck do you know about my life?!

Max: I know a lot. I've been there. I've had the demons too, D. You need a place to exorcise them or they'll manifest here. In this place. When was the last day you didn't have a drink? When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror and liked what you saw? When was the last time...

[As Max is talking Drake notices the red-headed girl getting off the stage. She picks up numerous dollar bills and some of her clothes and walks down the steps. Drake immediately walks away from Max, leaving him talking to the wind, and walks right to the half-naked red-headed girl. As she sees him coming she gets startled and a look of worry comes over her face. Drake stumbles forward and tries to start a conversation]

Drake: Hi again.

Rosie: You gotta stop this.

Drake: Stop what?

Rosie: Look, I'm not interested ok?

Drake: But you don't even know what I'm offering.

Rosie: My boyfriend is right over there.

[She points to the drug dealer in the corner, a big bald headed man wearing a leather jacket.]

Drake. He seems nice.

Rosie: Please? Before he sees you.

Drake: I'm not afraid of him.

Rosie: Well maybe I am, ok?

Drake: So leave him. Come with me.

Rosie: What? I don't even know you!

[Drake extends his arm toward Rosie.]

Drake: I'm Drake. Drake Green.

[Rosie grabs his hand and shakes it ever so slightly. As she stares up into his bright green eyes, a small, warm smile peaks out of her lips. It is clear there is an instant connection between the two; as if it was love at first handshake.]

Rosie: I'm Rosie. Rosie Long.

Drake: It's a pleasure to meet you Rosie.

Rosie: Yeah look. I gotta go. It was nice meeting you.

[Rosie quickly turns away and walks briskly into the back dressing room. Drake, slightly confused, turns to his left and sees Reno, Rosie's drug dealer boyfriend, staring back at him with a look that screams bad intentions. Drake looks down at the floor as if contemplating what to do. He quietly turns around walks back over to the bar where Max is standing.]

Max: What the fuck Drake? I'm trying to give you my life story here and you just walk away...

Drake: Shut up will you?

Max: Hey if you don't care what I got to say..

Drake: I'm serious. Just for one second ok? I'm trying to think.

[Drake looks back at Reno who is now talking to Rosie. Rosie has gotten dressed quickly and is wearing a tank top and blue jeans. They both look back at Drake and then Reno starts to pull Rosie out the back door. As they pass through the rear exit Rosie shoots a glance back at Drake, her eyes wide with fear.]

Drake: Max?

Max: Yeah?

Drake: You got a car?

Max: No. I took a taxi straight from the airport.

Drake: We're going to need a car.

Max: Well I was thinking we could take a bus to Maine..

Drake: No. We need a car. I'll be right back.

Max: Where are you going?

Drake: I'll be right back. Just pay the bartender. We're leaving.

[Drake pounds his last shot and starts heading for the back door. His heart thumping, he starts to have small flashbacks of the squared circle. He jumps up the small set of stairs and pushes the back door open. A rush of cold winter air hits his face and Drake immediately feels sober again. It has stopped raining but moisture still fills the air. Thoughts fly through his head of hip tosses, body slams, and leg drops. It's as if in one instant his old life is coming back to him. Reno stands next to his black Camaro smoking a cigarette, yelling at Rosie, who is standing on the opposite side of the car. Reno sees Drake and that same look of bad intentions comes over his face.]

Reno: What the hell do you want man?

Drake: I want the girl.

Rosie: Drake just go back inside.

Reno: Yeah, Drake. Just go inside.

Drake: Not gonna happen man.

Rosie: Drake, please!

[Drake once again looks down at the ground, contemplating his next move.]

Drake: Rosie, I just want to have a quick talk with Reno here.

Rosie: Drake please…

[Cutting her off.]

Reno: No. It's ok.

Rosie: Guys you don't have to...

Drake: It's ok Rosie. Just do me a favor and say hello to my friend Max in there. He's the one in the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

Reno: Yeah girl. Just go inside and keep that ass warm.

[Rosie shoots a disgusted look back at Reno and then proceeds to walk towards the back door of the building. As she gets to Drake she stops.]

Rosie: Drake...I...

Drake: It's ok Rosie. I'll see you in a minute.

[He smiles at her in a warm, comforting way and watches her as she goes inside the back door. He has a moment of clarity. He can almost see his future. Returning to the ring, Rosie by his side, and Max training him and being there to put him up on his shoulders when he wins a world championship. It would be a perfect happy ending to his story, except all of these happy thoughts come screeching to a halt when Drake turns back around and is met with Reno's fist in his nose. Drake falls to the ground, blood spewing from his nostrils. He looks up at Reno, who kicks him in his stomach.]

Reno: I knew I shoulda just whipped your ass inside. Now I'm gonna mess you up real good man.

[Reno takes his leather biker-style jacket off and lays it on the hood of his Camaro.]

Reno: You're gonna wish you stayed inside, bitch.

[SMACK! Reno kicks Drake in the face as he lays on the ground and the blood begins to flow like a waterfall. Reno gets on top of him and begins to punch him in the face repeatedly, over and over. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! He gets off of Drake and starts walking back to his Camaro with a smile on his face.]

Reno: That will teach you to mess with Reno, bitch.

[As Reno walks back to his car, it starts to drizzle again. Drake lays still for a moment and he realizes that not only has he not been in a fight for a few years, but that he's still very much drunk and is not sure if he wants to get up. He thinks about how wonderful it feels to just lay down and relax for a moment. Yeah, sure he just got his ass kicked by a drug dealer but it didn't matter now. Now he could just go to sleep, because boy was he tired. But then he thought about Rosie. He thought that if Reno did this to him just for talking to her then what was he going to do to her? And not just for talking to Drake but for anything else in the future. He couldn't just let him do that to her. He would never be able to live with that. He starts to pick himself up off the ground. As he gets up he wipes the blood from his eyes and the rain from his forehead. He keeps thinking “hip toss, body slam, leg drop”. He walks right up to Reno taps him on the shoulder. As Reno turns around, this time it's him who is met with a fist, on his left cheek. THWAP! He falls back into his car and Drake grabs him by his throat and begins to pummel him. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Reno begins to bleed from his eyes and starts to wobble towards Drake but he grabs Reno's arm...BAM! He hits him with a big hip toss. Drake picks up Reno and scoops him into a body slam. SLAM! Reno's body hits the ground and twitches for a second. He tries to move but before he can, BOOM! Drake drops a big leg drop on his face, which surely breaks Reno's nose. Drake gets up, takes a step back and looks at Reno's almost lifeless body.]

Drake: Who's a bitch now?

[He smiles as he mocks Reno.]

Drake: Let's see what you got in here.

[Drake starts rifling through Reno's pockets. He takes out his wallet and opens it up. He takes all the cash out and shoves it in his pocket, and then dumps the wallet on the ground. He then takes out Reno's cigarettes and lights one up. He walks over to the Camaro where Reno left his black biker jacket. He takes off his flannel shirt and throws the leather jacket on over his black t-shirt.]

Drake: You don't mind if I keep this do you?

[He continues to mock the knocked out Reno. He wipes some more blood from his face and then takes a long, slow pull from the cigarette. He shoves his hands in the pockets of the jacket and stares up at the sky. With his hands inside the jacket he feels something wonderful in the right pocket, which brings a wide smile to his face.

The camera cuts inside to Max and Rosie who are sitting at the bar talking. Drake walks in carrying his flannel shirt. They see him, wearing his new leather jacket and his face covered in drying blood. His hair is soaking wet from the now pouring rain but for some odd reason he looks as happy as a schoolboy.]

Max: What the fuck man?

Rosie: Oh my god.

[Drake tosses his flannel shirt to Rosie.]

Drake: It's alright. Put the shirt on Rosie. It's cold out.

Rosie: Where's Reno?

Drake: Don't worry about Reno. Everything’s ok. We gotta go though...

[Max turns to Rosie.]

Max: Well, do you have a number for a taxi?

Rosie: Yeah, I have one in my phone…

[Drake interrupts.]

Drake: We don't need a taxi.

Max: D. I'm not gonna walk to the bus station. It's pouring out. What the hell happened...

Drake: We don't need a bus.

Max: What the hell are we gonna fly to Maine then?

Drake: Nope. I got a car.

[Drake's giant smile returns once again as he holds up Reno's keys and dangles them next to his bruised, bloody face. He now has a Camaro.

The camera fades to black.]

The most magical, the most fantastical Showstopper of all time...

Former SCW World Heavyweight Champion

Former SCW Roulette Champion [1x]

Twitter: @The_RealDG

Offline DrakeGreen

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Old Role Plays
« Reply #1 on: June 24, 2018, 08:28:35 PM »
 So this RP is one of my top 3-4 favorites. It was right before I had joined SCW.

It has Drake as full on Mr Showtime and in love with wrestling and being a star, but this is the first time we get a real peak into his second loves....women and extreme excess.

It also has the second or third appearance of Barry Goldstein, who at the time was a brand new character for me. For those of you that aren't familiar with Drake or my writings, Barry may be my all time favorite to write for next to Drake. It also marks the first time I ever eclipsed the 6k mark (Yikes, never again!)

So without further ado, here is my RP for Drake in ACW for his only (sadly) battle against ACW legend Ben Jordan.

Private Connections

May 2nd, 2013

[The camera fades in to a New York City street in the middle of the day. The roads are crowded with numerous cars and trucks rumbling by at a speed which seems much faster than what ought to be on a crowded city street. The sidewalks, just as packed as the road, are littered with people of all different race, age, and size. All keeping to themselves as they make their hurried way to whatever their destination may be. The camera sweeps throughout the crowd of walking pedestrians. It passes and elderly gentleman walking with a wooden cane and young Middle-Eastern girl with white and red ‘Beats’ headphones strapped onto her head. The camera finally comes up behind two men walking. On the right is a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, wearing dark blue jeans, black shoes, and a black button down shirt tucked into his jeans. The man on the left is much younger, also wearing blue jeans although his are a much lighter shade. He is wearing white ‘Puma’ sneakers, a white button down shirt also tucked in which has platinum cufflinks fastened on the cuffs, and a navy blue with sport coat with a white pocket square tucked into the breast pocket on the front left side of the jacket. Just as blinding as his big platinum watch on his left wrist are his bright green eyes that sparkle in the Manhattan sunlight, which show a great contrast to his dark hair. The two men are ‘Mr. Showtime’ Drake Green and his best friend and trainer Max.]

Max: I just don’t see why we have to take him with us.

Drake: Why? He set this whole thing up. He’s my agent.

Max: I know, D. The idea of touring Nova Scotia with him for 10 days though really makes me want to vomit.

Drake: Ha! I think you’ll survive. He’s doing a very good job. He set this whole press tour up. He arranged all the transportation, the hotels, food, everything. All we have to do is show up.

Max: But you’re forgetting one thing.

Drake: What’s that?

Max: When are we gonna set aside some time for training?

Drake: Here we go again…

Max: You know, you always say the same thing but do you really think it’s a coincidence that you keep winning? No. It’s all the hard we have been putting in. The countless hours watching tape and the reps in the gym. We haven’t watched any tape of Ben Jordan.

Drake: I don’t think it’s a coincidence, Max. I know how hard we work and how much it pays off but I am trying my best to balance all of it. To be successful in this business, and I mean long term and not just on a local level, we have to market ourselves. We have to put the time in to meet people, make contacts, and make sure they tune in whenever I’m on TV. That’s how you get recognized on the national and global markets and that’s where the real money comes from.

Max: What’s with the sudden obsession with all of the money, D? When I came to get you and bring you back into this thing it was so we both could regain balance in our lives. Not so worthless snakes like Super-Agent Barry Goldstein could turn you into a money making machine.

Drake: I get what you’re saying, Max, but this is my opportunity to really make it. To do something no one my family ever did. To be a World Heavyweight Champion. That’s why it’s so important to me. It’s not just the money. I mean, all the scratch is nice but in order to get a shot at Staggs or whoever else has that title I have to be known and Barry Goldstein can help.

Max: Ok, I’m with you. But that guy is still a douchebag.

Drake: Ha! I kind of agree.

[The two men chuckle as they come up to large building with glass walls all along the street level. Inside the glass walls there are several cars lined up on the main floor of the building.]

Drake: I think this is it.

[As they get up to the front of the building there is a large sign on the front that reads ‘Mercedes-Benz of Manhattan’. They open the front door and walk in to the large and beautiful showroom. Directly in front of them are two young and attractive women dressed in black, one blonde and the other brunette, sitting behind an expensive and posh looking wooden desk. The blonde on the right side greets the two men almost immediately with a large, bright smile.]

Receptionist: Good afternoon gentlemen and welcome to Mercedes-Benz of Manhattan. How can I help you today?

Drake: Yes. We are looking for a someone named Marko.

Receptionist: Sure may I ask your last name sir?

Drake: Yes, it’s Green.

[The receptionist picks up the phone and dials a few numbers.]

Receptionist: Yes, I have a Mr. Green here for you….Of course….Yes.

[She hangs up the phone.]

Receptionist: Marko will be right up. May I interest either of you gentleman in a coffee, tea, or water?

Drake: No, I’m ok. Thank you.

Max: I would love a diet cream soda.

[She has a puzzled look on her face.]

Receptionist: Umm, I’ll see if I can find one.

[She walks off toward a door on the side of the showroom and Drake shoots Max a look.]

Max: What?

Drake: Diet cream soda?

Max: I had a craving.

Drake: Ha! You’re ridiculous.  

[The two men start to look around a the showroom. They stop at bright red 2-door coupe. Max starts to read a sign next to the vehicle and Drake looks into the car.]

Drake: This one is nice.

[As they continue to look over the car a tall, brooding, man with a buzz cut walks over to them. He is wearing a sleek, black designer suit, a white shirt, and a bright blue tie. Pinned onto his left lapel is a Mercedes logo. Sitting just beneath the logo is a bright silver nametag that reads Marko Wolfensheiner.  He walks right over to Drake and stretches out his arm and hand and then introduces himself in thick German accent.]

Marko: Mr. Green I presume?

Drake: Yes. You must be Marko.

Marko: I am.

Drake: This is my friend, Max.

[Marko turns to Max and stretches out his hand again.]

Marko: Of course. The great Maximus the Magnificent. I am a great fan.

Max: It’s a pleasure.

Marko: Please. The pleasure is all mine. Mr. Goldstein had telephoned me the other day and informed me you may be stopping by. How can I help?

Drake: You know, Marko. I’m not really sure. I was told I should be driving a Mercedes-Benz so I came here.

Marko: As you should be.

Max: What’s this one here.

Marko: This is the C350 Coupe.

Drake: Is this a nice one? I don’t know anything about these cars.

Marko: Well please allow me to educate you Mr. Green.

Drake: Ok…

Marko: The C-Class is our entry-level vehicle. This coupe here is a nice addition to anyone’s fleet. It is agile, quick, and handles very nicely. And at this price point, it is a very nice second or third car.

Max: The sticker says $53,000!

Marko: Precisely.

Max: Drake you can’t-

Drake: Marko, with all due respect, I’m not looking for a second or third car. I’m looking for the car.

Marko: I understand. Please follow me.

[Marko starts to walk toward the back of the showroom and Max tries to whisper to Drake.]

Max: You’re not actually entertaining spending $50,000 on a car are you, D?

Drake: You heard Barry. Fast and flash.

Max: You can’t be serious.

Drake: And for the record, it’s going to be a hell of a lot more than $50,000 so if you’re going to complain about it than you can just go on ahead and I’ll meet you at the airport.

Max: It’s your money, D. It’s your money.

[Marko walks them over to a large four-door sedan.]

Marko: Gentleman. The S-550 sedan. This is the flagship of all automobiles. A 4.7-liter V-8 engine, 20’’ rims, the finest leather interior in the automotive world and an $8,000 Bang & Olufsen sound system. This Mr. Green, is the car. Your friend Mr. Goldstein has owned three of them.

[Drake and Max walk around the car.]

Max: And how much is this one?

Marko: The sticker price on this one is $110,000.

Max: Jesus Christmas.

Drake: It’s nice Marko. But I kind of get the Grandpa feeling from this thing, you know.

Max: What are you kidding me? It’s beautiful.

Drake: See what I mean?

[Drake and Marko chuckle.]

Max: Dick.

Drake: I’m looking for something with a little more pop to it. You know?

Marko: I think I do Mr. Green. Please, follow me.

[Marko takes them even further back into the showroom and they stop at white four-door car that has a unique slope to it.]

Marko: This, gentleman, is the CLS-63 Four-Door Coupe. It seats four. Has full LED headlamps, a 6.3 liter Bi-Turbo engine that outputs over 500 horsepower and over 450 pounds of torque per foot.

Max: This is awesome, D.
Drake: And the price?

Marko: $119,000.

[The two men walk around the vehicle and check it out. Max opens the front door and sits in the driver’s seat. He puts his hands on the steering wheel and a large smile comes over his face.]

Max: I think I love this car, D.

Drake: I don’t know, Max. It is nice.

[As Drake looks over the car he notices something in the very back of the showroom. A long 2-door coupe with an almost race-car look to it that has velvet ropes surrounding it.]

Drake: What’s that?

[He points to the car in the back.]

Marko: Ah yes. Mr. Goldstein did say you had a good eye. Please, follow me.

[Max jumps out of the car and he and Drake walk behind Marko to the coupe in the back. As they get there both of their eyes widen as they look at the car. The coupe, a two-seater, has a long front nose. It is silver in color that has almost a liquid metal look to it and the interior is a bright red.]

Marko: Gentlemen. I present to you the SLS AMG Coupe.

Drake: How do you get in it?

Marko: Let me demonstrate for you.

[Marko un-clasps one of the velvet ropes and walks over to the car. As he gets close a small handle pops out of one of the doors. He grabs it pulls up and the door opens vertically in a Gull-Wing style.]

Max: Oh my god.

Drake: I have to have this Max.

Max: Oh my god.

Marko: It is the most impressive piece of machinery in all of our fleet, Mr. Green.

Drake: And the price?
Marko: $225,000.

Max: Oh my god.

Drake: I’ll take it.

[Max turns to Drake.]

Max: Are you fucking nuts?

Drake: I don’t care. I have to have this.

Marko: I will draw up the paper work then yes?

Max: Drake-

Drake: Yes. Thank you Marko.

Marko: Very well.

[Marko turns and walks away.]

Max: D, this is insane. $225,000?!

Drake: Between my match against Ben Jordan and all this promotional work Barry has me doing. I have the cash.

Max: It’s your money, D.

Drake: Yes. Thank you for reminding me.

[Marko walks back over.]

Marko: Mr. Green, when will you be taking delivery of the vehicle?

Drake: I have to fly to Nova Scotia today and I won’t be back until the end of the month. Let’s say the first weekend in June?

Marko: Very well. Please sign here.

[Marko holds up a clipboard and hands a pen to Drake who signs on the piece of paper.]

Marko: Thank you Mr. Green. I shall be in touch.

[The two shake hands.]

Marko: And Maximus…

Max: Max is just fine, thanks.

[Max and Marko shake hands.]

Drake: Thanks again, Marko. I’ll see you soon.

Marko: Auf wiedersehen.

[Drake and Max turn to walk back to the other end of the showroom to leave.]

Max: You might as well just bent over for him?

Drake: Please, you don’t try to haggle on cars like this, Max. This isn’t a Chevy dealership.

Max: I hope you know what you’re doing.

[A noise comes from Drake’s pocket and he pulls out his phone.]

Drake: It’s Barry.

Max: Of course it is.

Drake: Change of plans. We’re flying out of Westchester County.

Max: What? Why?

Drake: I don’t know but he’s sending a car for us. Going to pick us up at the apartment in an hour.

Max: Rosie still not coming with us?

Drake: No. She’s going to her mother’s in Pennsylvania again.

[Just as they reach the end of the showroom and are about to walk out of the building, the blonde receptionist comes running over. She is breathing heavy, has some dirt on her face, her hair is now a mess, and she has a small rip on the shoulder of black blouse.]

Drake: Holy shit. What happened to you?

Receptionist: Sorry…it…took…so…long.

[She holds out her hand and she is holding a can of ‘Dr. Brown’s Diet Cream Soda’. Drake starts to chuckle.]

Max: Thanks… I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.

[Max takes the can from her.]

Receptionist: It’s no problem. Anything for a friend of Mr. Showtime.

[She smiles at Drake.]

Drake: That’s very nice of you.

[She then holds out a piece of paper to Drake.]

Receptionist: And this is for you.

[Drake takes the piece of paper.]

Drake: What’s this?

Receptionist: It’s my number.

[She smiles again.]

Receptionist: Good luck against Ben Jordan.

Drake: Thanks.

[Max starts to pull Drake away.]

Max: Come on, we got a plane to catch.

Receptionist: Call me!

Drake: Bye!

Max: Have a nice day miss.

[As they get outside Max takes the piece of paper from Drake.]

Drake: What are you doing?

Max: What if Rosie sees this?

Drake: Oh it’s harmless.
[He goes to snatch it back from Max but he moves it away too quickly.]

Max: Why do you want this back so bad?

[Drake goes to grab it again.]

Drake: I don’t.

Max: You’re gonna call her.

Drake: No I’m not.

Max: Yes you are.

Drake: Just forget it. We got a plane to catch.

Max: Everything ok with you, D? Is there something you want to tell me.

Drake: Everything’s fine. Come on. We gotta get our bags.

[The camera fades to black…

…The camera fades back in to a private airfield later that day. There is  small white jet with red markings  parked with a few members of the crew standing around outside. A black Lincoln pulls in through gate at the far end of the airfield. It drives up near the plane and the shuts the engine off. The back doors open and out step Drake and Max. Still dressed in the same clothing they were wearing at the Mercedes dealership. A chauffeur steps out from the driver’s door and walks around to the trunk. He opens the lift-gate and pulls out two suitcases and a large black duffel bag. He starts to walk toward the plane as Max turns to Drake.]

Max: You’ve got to be kidding me.

Drake: Now I know why he wanted us to come all the way up here to fly.

[As they look over at the plane the side door on the jet opens. The steps come down and out steps Barry Goldstein. He is wearing a shiny grey suit, a blue shirt, and a yellow tie. His dirty blonde, ear length hair flaps around in the wind as he walks down the steps toward Drake and Max.]

Barry: Showtime! You made it! And you brought your butler.

Max: Hello, Barry.

Barry: Max, always a pleasure.

Drake: Nice plane.

Barry: What? This old thing? Come on, only best for Mr. Showtime. You know that.

Drake: Is it yours?

Barry: My company’s. I saw it was available so I signed it out for us. Come on let’s get on board. We’re a little behind schedule and the pilot was getting a little annoyed. I told him to relax and have drink but the he got even more annoyed.

[The three men walk toward the plane. As they get to the steps Barry moves out of the way to let Drake board first. He then quickly cuts in front of Max and walks up behind Drake. Max rolls his eyes as he walks up the steps behind both men and on to the plane.]

Barry: Gentleman, welcome to paradise in the sky.

[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.]

Barry: Drake, Max, this is Tanya and this is Lori. Lori, Tanya, meet Drake and Max.

Drake: Ladies.

Max: How do you do?

Barry: Take a seat, boys. We’ll be in Halifax in no time.

[All three men sit down in empty seats and buckle themselves in. Lori, the flight attendant comes over.]

Lori: Good afternoon, Drake. Would you like a drink while we take off?

Drake: Sure. Scotch on the rocks.

Lori: Any particular scotch?

Drake: Johnny is fine, thanks.

Lori: The black or the blue sir?

[Drake smiles.]

Drake: The blue would be great.

[Lori turns to Max.]

Lori: Anything for you sir?

Max: Just some water would be great.

Lori: Sparkling or flat?

Max: Flat, thanks.

Lori: Poland Spring, Fiji, Vox, or Aqua Panna, sir?

[Max chuckles.]

Max: Poland Spring is fine.

Lori: Coming right up.

Barry: So what do you think?

Drake: I could get used to this.

Barry: You keep winning Champ and we’ll get you one of your own. Speaking of which, I got a phone call from my friend Marko this afternoon. Very nice purchase.

[Lori comes back over and hands out the drinks. She give the water to Max, the scotch to Drake, and a cosmopolitan to Barry.]

Barry: Cheers!

[Barry holds out his drink to cheers Drake but pulls it back quickly when Max comes in for the cheers.]

Barry: Sorry buddy. Bad luck to cheers water.

Max: You’re such an asshole.

Barry: Hey, 40,000 feet I don’t need any bad luck.

Drake: Relax you two.

[The other flight attendant, Tanya, walks over.]

Tanya: Gentlemen, we will be taking off momentarily. Please make sure your seat belts are on.

Max: Even on a private plane I hate flying.

Barry: Oh relax. We’re fine.

[Drake looks out the window as the plane takes off. He peers at the ground as it gets smaller and smaller. He notices little cars driving on little highways and little houses that are getting tinier and tinier until soon enough all Drake can see are clouds. He gets interrupted out of his trance as Lori walks over.]

Lori: The captain has given permission to unfasten your seatbelts gentlemen.

Barry: Thanks.

[The three men unbuckle and Max stands up, stretches, and then walks over to the bathroom. Drake takes a long gulp of his scotch and then turns to Barry.]

Drake: So tell me about this press tour.

Barry: Not much to say. Pretty standard stuff. We land in Halifax. Do a quick press junket there. We head over to Amherst do a couple days there. That’s the big one. Then we head over to Antigonish and then Prince Edward Island and we head home. Easy peasy Japanese-y.

Drake: Seems easy enough.

Barry: It is. Let me ask you something. You ever think about doing commercials?

Drake: No.

Barry: Well how would you like to be to spokesperson for Wally’s Wings?

Drake: You’re joking right?

Barry: Not at all. $20,000 for three hours of work.

Drake: I’ll think about.

Barry: Good, good, yeah, think about it. Thank about all that money you’re gonna make.

[Barry smiles and raises his glass before taking a sip. Max walks back over and sits back down.]

Barry: Hey Max. What do you think about our boy here doing some commercial work?

Max: He’s gonna have to figure out some way to pay for that car he just bought.

Barry: Well lucky for you knuckleheads that you’ve got a guy like me on your side. You see, after my pal Marko gave me a call I put in a call to my friend Peter. Peter happens to own that dealership over there. And, in exchange for two appearances at his charity events and a plug on the television spot we do in two days in Amherst, your little hot rod is free of charge.

Drake: You’re kidding me!

Barry: You can thank me later. Just make sure you beat Ben Jordan. Let’s keep this gravy train on the right track.

Max: Wow, Barry. That’s really something. Thank you.

Barry: Yeah, yeah. Don’t suck up to me now old man. I know you don’t like me.

Max: I don’t. But it’s a start.

Barry: Ha! Now tell me. How are we on this DCP situation.

Drake: Haven’t heard from him in a while.

Barry: Good. Let it sleep.

Drake: I am.

Max: I don’t like it though. He’s been a little too quiet. Makes me a little nervous.

Drake: Not me. Nothing to worry about.

Barry: Ok good. Now on to more important business. ACW. This Ben Jordan guy. Old man what are our chances?

Max: Well, he’s good. Personally I think he’s the best out there right now. And I’m not just talking about ACW. The whole NWA.

Barry: Best other than Drake here right?

Max: Of course.

[Drake chuckles.]

Barry: What do you think Drake?

Drake: I think he’s good. He’s had that title for over a year. But every man can be beaten.

[Drake pours back some more scotch.]

Drake: He’s got weaknesses. I’ll find them and I’ll exploit them.

Barry: He seems to love you.

Drake: What’s not to love?

Barry: Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go find that Tanya girl and see if I can get her to join the mile high club with me. Hasta la Canada.

[Barry gets up and walks behind the curtain to where Tanya had disappeared behind of.]

Drake: Free car, Max.

Max: Nothing’s free, D. But it’s still pretty cool. So what’s the plan? Where do we fit the training in during all of this traveling?

Drake: Oh yes. The training.

Max: I’m serious man. We gotta hit the gym. You got a little bit of a size advantage on this guy and we need to exploit that. He’s a little quicker than you so we’re gonna need to be able to grab him and take a hold of him and not let go.

Drake: Don’t worry, Maxy. I had Barry rent out a local gym in every town we stop in. Every day.

[Max smiles.]

Max: Really? I feel so proud.

[Drake chuckles.]

Drake: Don’t get all misty eyed on me. I want this one, Max. More than any other one before it. I have to beat this guy. It’s not personal. I like him. But he’s gotta go down and he’s gotta go down hard. And I need your help.

Max: You know I’m here for you.

Drake: If I win this match the road only goes up. No matter what happens after it. Even if I drop the title back to him a month later. To be the first one to clip his wings would cement me in ACW forever. And that would mean the forefront of any title picture going forward. Whether it’s the Maritime title or the Atlantic. I’m in that discussion forever. As long I stick around. Do you have any idea how important that is to me?

Max: I do. And I’m right there with you.

[Max holds his glass of water out to cheers. Drake thinks for a second before hitting his glass against Max’s. He remembers what Barry had said about it being bad luck. He then realizes that he doesn’t need luck to beat Ben Jordan. He already has the skill. He raises his glass and smacks it against Max’s and smiles.]

Drake: Cheers.

[The Camera fades to black.]

May 4th, 2013

[The camera fades in to a small dressing room. The walls are painted a pale white with a two-cushion black leather couch on one wall. Opposite the couch is tall, stand up mirror. The wall opposite the door has a small vanity and a mirror with a chair in front of it. The room has almost a prison-like feel to it. It’s as if someone took a solitary confinement cell and converted it into a dressing room. The door swings open and its short, skinny woman wearing blue jeans, a black polo t-shirt with the logo ‘Slam Magazine’ on it and a matching black visor. She’s wearing a headset to communicate with others and is holding a clipboard in in her hand. As she walks in, Drake and Max follow her in. Drake is wearing a white button shirt with his sleeves folded up, very light khaki suit pants, and brown dress shoes. Max is wearing a blue suit with a black button down shirt with an open color. Drake has suit bag over his shoulder, which he sets down on the black leather couch. The young girl, a production assistant, asks him to sign her clipboard. He does so and then she leaves, closing the door behind her. Drake walks over and plops down on the chair in front of the vanity.]

Drake: Nice place huh?

[Max smiles.]

Max: I   guess space is limited.

Drake: What are we supposed to be doing here anyway? Where’s Barry? Didn’t he say he was going to meet us here?

Max: I have no idea. Might as well get ready though.

[Max opens up the suit bag and pulls out Drake’s light khaki jacket. Drake gets up off the chair and rolls his sleeves down. He fastens the buttons and then Max helps him with his jacket. He walks over to the tall mirror and checks him self out and realizes he’s missing something. He walks over to the suit bag pulls out a bright green handkerchief and puts it into his left front breast pocket. He turns around to face Max and smiles.]

Drake: So how do I look?

Max: Like a champion.

[Drake smiles again but is interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Assuming it is Barry, Drake walks over and opens the door.]

Drake: Where the fuck-

[He abruptly stops talking when he sees Elise Leblanc standing at the door.]

Drake: Oh. I’m sorry I thought you were some one else.

[Elise smiles back at Drake. Her bright red lips contrast her pale skin quite beautifully, especially when you take in to account her flowing, dark, raven-colored hair. She is wearing a dark blue blazer over a white dress and matching white heels. Drake can’t help but smile back at her.]

Elise: Hi Drake. It’s good to see you again.

[Drake can’t help but smile as he hears Elise speak in her faint French accent.]

Drake: Hi. I didn’t know you were going to be here today.

Elise: Yeah, its part of the job. I’ll be the one interviewing you today.

Drake: That’s great. I’m looking forward to it.

Elise: Me too. I-

[Elise is cut off as Barry pushes his way passed her and into the room. He is wearing a dark grey suit with chalk-line pinstripes, a white shirt, and a solid grey tie. His hair is combed over to the side and he is smoking a cigar.]

Barry: Showtime! Sorry I’m late, Champ. Can’t get a fucking cab in this place.

Drake: Hey Barry.
[Drake turns back to Elise.]

Drake: I guess I’ll see you out there.

[A big smile comes over her face.]

Elise: I can’t wait.

[She turns away and walks back down the hall.]

Barry: Holy bananas did you see the melons on that one?

Max: Always a pleasure, Barry.

Barry: Maxy…

Drake: So what’s the deal for today?

Barry: You’re gonna show up on stage, answer some questions, charm the audience like you do. Then we get a catered lunch and a chance to bang some local ass. Sound good.

Drake: Sure.

Max: We ready?

Barry: Yup. Let’s do this.

[Max opens the door and all three men walk out. They head down the hallway and pass by several production assistants with the same black polo shirts on. They come to a more open room that has several tables with food placed out on them. Standing by the largest table is JJ Dixon.]

JJ: Hey Drake. Thanks for coming out today.

Drake: No problem, JJ. Slamfest set up a nice spread here.

JJ: Yeah they did. I just did my spot out there so give ‘em hell.

Drake: Will do.

[Barry walks over.]

Barry: Well hello there, Mr. Dixon.

JJ: Goldstein. Always a pleasure.
Barry: I’m glad someone thinks so.

JJ: I was being nice. Hey Drake…

Drake: What’s up?

JJ: When you get a chance I wanted to talk to you about this Lord of the Ring event.

Drake: You can talk to Barry about that one, JJ. I gotta run up there now.

[JJ turns to Barry as Drake and Max walk toward the other end of the room.]

JJ: Well?

Barry: Pass.

JJ: Pass?

Barry: You heard me. Showtime is got enough going on right now with this Maritime championship match. After that we’ll talk.

JJ: Suit yourself, Goldstein. Could be a good payday for your boy.

Barry: Oh don’t worry. He’s gonna make plenty of money on the 26th. See you around JJ.

[Barry walks over to where Drake and Max are standing. They can see out the door. There is an outdoor stage and about a hundred or so fans in the crowd. Many of whom are where ‘SHOWTIME’ t-shirts. There are two women on stage, one of which is Elise. The other, is a tall woman with short-cropped blonde hair. She is also wearing a black ‘Slamfest Magazine’ polo shirt. She holds a microphone as she addressed the crowd.]

Woman: Ok, Amherst. Are you ready for our next guest. He is the number one contender for Ben Jordan’s Maritime Junior Heavyweight championship. They call him ‘Mr. Showtime’. Put your hands together for Drake Green!

[Drake walks out the door and up the steps onto the stage to a thunderous applause. On the back of the stage there is a ‘Slamfest Magazine’ banner alongside a smaller ACW banner and a Global Maritimes banner. The woman hands Drake her microphone and the crowd quiets down waiting for the superstar to speak. Drake brings the microphone up to his lips and a wide smile comes across his face.

Drake: Hello, Amherst!

Crowd: Hello, Drake!

Drake: It really does feel good to be back here in my home away from home in the Atlantic!

Crowd: POP!

Drake: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages....welcome to the show!

Crowd: Louder POP!

Drake: Are you ready for the most magical, the most fantastical showstopper of all time?! I am your Soldier, I am your Savior, I am your next Maritime Junior Heavyweight Champion, and I have just one question for you. What time is it?

Crowd: Showtime!

Drake: No, no, no. Come on, Amherst. I said what time is it?

Crowd: Showtime!

Drake: People of Nova Scotia, MY PEOPLE! I know you that isn't your best. I'm only gonna ask you one more time. WHAT TIME IS IT!?


[Drake smiles as the crowd cheers.]

Crowd: Drake! Drake! Drake!

Drake: I just wanted to say a special thank you to Slamfest Magazine for hosting this event here today. And thanks to Global Maritimes for all of their continued support for Atlantic Championship Wrestling.

Crowd: POP!

Drake: And now if you could please give your attention to the lovely Miss Elise Leblanc. I believe she’s prepared some questions for me to answer.

Elise: Thank you, Drake. You have a very important match coming up later this month against Ben Jordan. What are your feelings going into it?

Drake: Hmm. Ben’s a great competitor and I consider him a friend. I know that the crowd is going to get their money’s worth on the 26th that’s for sure.

Elise: Ben Jordan is not only ACW’s but also the entire NWA’s longest reigning champion. What’s your strategy for an opponent like that?

Drake: Well for one, you have to be prepared. Ben’s certainly gonna bring it so you have to make sure you bring it as well. You have to find his weaknesses, if there are any, and try to exploit them early and often to have a chance.

Elise: What are his weaknesses?

[Drake smiles.]

Drake: I guess we’ll find out in Halifax.

[Elise smiles back.]

Elise: Will he be your toughest opponent?

Drake: I guess time will tell, Elise. There is certainly a magic around the idea of this match. It’s something Benny boy and I joked about a few months back and then all of a sudden it came to fruition. It’s as if someone up there wanted this to happen. To say he’s the toughest opponent may be too much of a generalization. But I will tell you this. To be a champion for over a year in this day and age is a very difficult feat to accomplish. And on top of that winning the Super J Cup, it’s just a really impressive resume.

Elise: Many people, Slamfest Magazine included, have already dubbed this one match of the year. How do you think it will end up ranking against the other big bouts of 2013?

[Drake laughs.]

Drake: I’m pretty sure Ben started that one. I can see why people are using that adjective to describe this match. On one hand you have the most decorated guy in the history of ACW so to speak. And on the other hand you have the greatest showstopper of all time. You can guarantee that it will be the highest rated program on Global Maritimes in May, possibly even in the Spring.

Elise: I don’t want to keep you too long Drake but I just have to ask this one. How confident are you going into the match?

Drake: I was waiting for that question, Elise. I will say this. Ben Jordan has undoubtedly been the most talented and dominant superstar in ACW over the passed year. But that’s just it. The past is the past. The time is now and the present belongs to Mr. Showtime. I have all the respect in the world for Ben Jordan, I really do. But the fact that I’ve been around ACW for two months and JJ Dixon is practically begging me to take his title means only one thing.
Elise: And what’s that?

Drake: It’s Showtime.

Elise: There you have it Amherst, Drake Green!

[The crowd gives Drake a standing ovation as he bows for them.]

Crowd: Drake! Drake! Drake!

[Drake walks over and gives Elise a kiss on the cheek and whispers in her ear.]

Drake: You did great. Thanks.

Elise: No thank you. They love you up here.

Drake: I think its just some residual love from you.

Elise: Hey there’s a pub across the street. Can I buy you a beer?

[Drake thinks for a moment.]

Drake: How much time do you need?

Elise: 15 minutes.

Drake: I’ll see you then.

[Drake bows again for the crowd and as he walks off the stage he gives the microphone back to the lady from Slamfest Magazine. He steps back down and inside the door where Max and Barry are waiting for him.]

Barry: Great job, champ! These people fucking love you.

Drake: Yeah?

Max: You did good kid.

Drake: Thanks.

Barry: I’m gonna run on back to the hotel boys. We head out at 6:oo sharp so don’t be late.

Drake: Sounds good.

[Drake starts walking back toward the dressing room but Max stops him.]
Max: Hey I think I’m gonna head back too. Get a couple hours of sleep before we hit the road. You wanna come with?

Drake: No I think I’ll stick around for a bit.

Max: You sure?

Drake: Yeah. Maybe I’ll walk around for a little while and grab something to eat.

Max: Ok. If you need me call me.

Drake: Do you think you could just grab my stuff from the dressing room for me?

Max: Sure no problem kid. I bet Rosie’s sad she missed this. She would’ve loved watching you up there.

Drake: Yeah, I bet.

Max: Ok. See you a little while.

Drake: Bye.

[Drake stops to think for a moment. He wonders if he should just go back to the hotel with Max. Walking across the street to meet Elise could be a very bad idea. It could not only cause trouble for him in Halifax, but also at home with Rose as well. He had already one indiscretion in New York that he was able to keep a secret but another? Especially a colleague? Clearly this was a bad decision. Just as Drake thinks he should blow Elise off he starts think about her red lips again. He starts to think about her dark hair and how good she looked up there on stage with him. And then, with all the confidence in the world, Drake says to himself…]

Drake: Fuck it.

[The camera fades to black…

It fades back in just as Drake opens the door to the pub across the street that Elise had mentioned. The place looks like your everyday pub. With neon beer signshanging in the windows and posters of local bands hanging around on the walls. A large billiard table sits off to the right where two men are playing. Passed the men, Drake can see Elise sitting at the bar. She has taken her blazer off, exposing her shoulder-less dress. She looks beautiful sitting over there. Drake takes his jacket off and throws it over his shoulder as he walks over to meet Elise and then throws on the back of the stool next to her.]

Drake: Hey there.

Elise: Hi. I was starting to think you weren’t going to make it.

Drake: Nope. I’m here.

[The bartender walks over and asks Drake what he would like to drink.]

Drake: Johnny on the rocks, please.

Elise: I said I would buy you a beer. That is a scotch.

Drake: I know. I’ll pay for my scotch. And then you can buy me a beer.

Elise: You assume I’m gonna sit here for more than one drink.

[The bartender comes over and drops off his scotch. Drake picks it up and takes a long first sip.]

Drake: Well, I guess we’ll have to find out.

Elise: Let me ask you something, Drake.

Drake: Sure.

Elise: What do you really think about Ben Jordan?

Drake: What do you mean?

Elise: I mean what’s your real opinion? Not the one you give the fans so you look good on television. What do you feel in here?

[Elise moves in closer to Drake and puts her hand over his heart.]

Drake: You really want to know? You may not like it.

[She moves in even closer.]

Elise: Try me.

Drake: I hate him.

Elise: Hate is a strong word.

Drake: It is. I have to hate him.

Elise: Why do you have to hate him?

Drake: Because the only way to want to hurt someone is to hate them. Ben Jordan is a great talent. There is no denying that but he doesn’t have that ability. He doesn’t have the one talent he really needs. He can’t hate. And because of that he will lose.

[Elise moves in closer again.]

Elise: And you? You have this talent?

Drake: More than you know.

[Drake leans in and kisses Elise in a long, hot embrace. After a moment she pushes him off and stares into his green eyes. She gets up and walks slowly to the back hallway that leads toward a back exit. Drake follows her around the corner. They walk outside and as soon they get there they begin to kiss again. Drake pushes her up against the back of the building and while they are still kissing, the camera fades to black.]

The most magical, the most fantastical Showstopper of all time...

Former SCW World Heavyweight Champion

Former SCW Roulette Champion [1x]

Twitter: @The_RealDG

Offline DrakeGreen

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Old Role Plays
« Reply #2 on: January 19, 2020, 01:22:33 AM »
 So I'm bored again. I found this gem, my very first RP in SCW. For those of you that don't know, SCW used to belong to an alliance of other feds, a place that shall not be named. Drake was active in two of the other Feds in the alliance but due to some cross-promoting tweets, he had gotten himself in a Twitter war with a couple of SCW of which was (at the time) future World Champion Giani Di Luca.

So for your reading enjoyment, I give you 'Vegas, Baby, Vegas'

Tuesday May 28, 2013 9:30 am  

[The camera fades in to a press conference room. There are about twenty reporters crammed into the small room. Some are holding out tape recorders and some are jotting things down on little notepads. There are about a dozen photographers lined up along the back of the room, taking picture after picture. Their flashes are bright and blinding and are going off in rapid succession. The reporters can barely be heard. Their muffled voices are almost in the background. The camera continues to pan across the room. It gets to the wall on the left side of the room, passed all of the reporters.  There are two large men standing in black t-shirts that read ‘SECURITY’. Next to them is a well-built, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair. He is wearing a blue suit and a white shirt with the collar opened. Next to him is a man in his late thirties with slicked back, ear-length dirty blonde hair.  He is wearing a black suit with blue pinstripes, a white button-down shirt and a blue tie. Stuck out of his right ear is a rather large and ridiculous Bluetooth device. The camera then moves to the man standing in front of the reporters at a podium. He is wearing a light gray suit, with an open collar lavender shirt. His five-o’clock shadow is quickly turning into a beard and his eyes are red and glazed over. He tries to pay attention to the question coming from an attractive young redheaded reporter but his eyes begin to wander. He starts to feel dizzy as his eyes roll around his head. He tries to move to his right but he stumbles and then falls right onto his face in front of the 30+ reporters and photographers.  As he hits the ground the photographers run forward and start picking up the pace of the shots. The camera zooms in on the fallen man and we can finally make out who he is. He is ‘Mr. Showtime’ Drake Green.]

Sunday May 26th, 2013 11:15 pm

[The camera cuts to Drake’s dressing room in the Halifax Forum. He has just won the ACW Maritime Junior Heavyweight Championship from Ben Jordan on ACW’s Championship Wrestling Live. He is standing there in black pinstripe pants and white button down shirt. He puts his platinum Breitling watch on and then picks up his wallet and shoves it into his back pocket. He starts picking up his gear off of the blue couch across the room and setting it all into the big, black duffel bag sitting on the chair in front of the vanity. As he throws stuff into the bag he hears a knock on the door. He walks over and answers the door and in bursts Max. Max is wearing a red ‘IT”S SHOWTIME’ t-shirt, black pants, and a black leather jacket. As he busts through the door he picks up Drake in to a big giant bear hug.]

Drake: Ok, ok.

Max: You fucking did it! I knew you would do it, D.

[Max puts Drake down.]

Max: Show me the gold.

Drake: You really wanna see it?

Max: Do I? Of course I do, you nut! You know how hard we worked for this?

Drake: Okay…

[Drake walks over to the bag and pulls out his new ACW Maritime Junior Heavyweight title belt and hands it to Max.]

Max: This is awesome, D. How’re we gonna celebrate?

Drake: Well I would say we could go grabs some beers and have sex with some strippers but I know you’re lame-

Max: Funny. How ‘bout some steaks? I saw a good place over by the hotel.

Drake: Yeah. That sounds good.

[Max dumps the title belt back into the duffel bag and zips it up. He throws the strap from the bag over his shoulder and the two men head for the door. Drake stops at the door and grabs his suit jacket that is hanging in the open closet and slips it on as they head out the door. They walk through the hallway and around the corner. As the get around the corner Drake spots Elise Leblanc. He grabs Max and drags him back around the corner.]

Max: What the hell?

Drake: Did she us?

Max: What? Who?

Drake: Did she see me?

Max: Did who see you?

Drake: That nutcase in the red dress.

[Max peers around the corner and sees Elise standing there talking with a few ACW production staff members.]

Max: Isn't that the chick from the convention in Amherst?

[Drake pulls Max back around the corner.]

Drake: Dude, get back! Don't let her see you!

Max: What the hell is going on, D? Something you want to tell me?

Drake: No. She's just crazy.

Max: I've known you for almost 30 years, kid. What's going on?

Drake: Ok. She's a little bit of a clinger.

Max: Clinger? But how could she be a clinger? They're only clingers after...

[Max suddenly realizes what is actually going on between Drake and Elise.]

Max: D? Really? What about Rosie?

Drake: I know. I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist.

Max: Didn't I ever tell you not to shit where you eat?

[Max peers around the corner.]

Drake: I know. I can't help it.

[Max looks her up and down.]

Max: I can see why...

Drake: You think you can distract her for me?

Max: What are we in high school?!

Drake: Please, Maxy. If I run into her things could get ugly. She smashed my bottle of Johnny before.

Max: Blue or black?

Drake: Blue.

Max: That bitch!

[Max peers around the corner again but this time Elise looks back over and meets eyes with him.]

Max: Shit! She saw me. She's coming over here.

Drake: Crap. What are we gonna do?

[Max looks around for a second and then sees a janitor closet.]

Max: Here…

[He opens up the door to the closet.]

Max: Get in here. I'll distract her and you sneak out.

Drake: You're kidding.

Max: Do you want her to see you or not? Shit!

[Max shoves Drake into the closet and shuts the door just as Elise comes around the corner.]

Elise: Monsieur Maxwell. How are you?

Max: Great. Just great. And how are you Miss Leblanc?

Elise: I am good. Did you see Drake tonight?

Max: Oh yeah. That was a big one.

[As Max talks to Elise, Drake slowly opens the door to the closet and sticks his head out. He looks right at Max and they make eye contact. Elise starts to turn around but Max grabs her by the arms.]

Max: I'm sorry. But Drake really wanted me to say something to you.

[He looks over her shoulder as Drake starts to quickly and quietly sneak out of the closet.]

Elise: Yes? What is it?

Max: He...umm...

[Drake sneaks completely out of the closet and around the corner and Max lets out a soft sigh of relief.]

Max: He says goodbye.

Elise: What do you mean goodbye? He said he wished to speak with me after the match?

Max: I mean. He said goodbye to me. That's it. Because he knew you were going to stop by so he wanted me to leave.

[Elise grabs Max in a big hug.]

Elise: Really!?

Max: Yeah, of course.

Elise: Thank you so much Monsieur Maxwell!

Max: My pleasure, sweetheart.

[Max watches Elise scurry down the hallway to where Drake's dressing room was. He darts around the corner and then out to the backdoor of the arena. He pushes through the door and sees Drake, standing next to the rental car, smoking a cigarette.]

Max: You’re going to hell, did you know that? And you’re gonna take me with you.

Drake: How did you get rid of her?

Max: I told her you were in your dressing room waiting for her.

Drake: That’s evil.

[Max shoots an annoyed look over at Drake.]

Max: I see you found my cigarettes. I thought you were done with those.

Drake: It's a victory smoke. It's not every day you get to say you knocked off an undefeated champ.

Max: True.

[Max pops open the trunk and drops the duffel bag inside. He picks up Drake's small suitcase and sets in inside the trunk next to the bag and shuts the trunk lid.]

Max: We ready to get out of here?

Drake: You mean you're not sick of Canada yet?

[Drake smiles.]

Max: Get in the car, D.

Drake: Fine.

[Drake takes one more drag of his cigarette and then flicks it into the wind. He walks around the rental car and opens the door. He plops down next to Max and starts to move his seat down to laying position.]

Drake: Wake me up at the airport.

[Max smiles.]

Max: Maybe I'll just leave you sleeping in the car.

[Drake laughs.]

Drake: They won't let you on the plane without me, Maxy.

Max: Yeah, yeah.

[Max starts the car and puts it into gear and then starts driving.]

Max: I can't believe you slept with that girl.

Drake: Really? You CAN’T believe it?

[Max chuckles.]

Max: Well I guess I could believe it.

[The two men share a quick laugh as the camera fades to black.]

Monday May 27th, 2013 5:45 pm

[The camera fades back into a large office. Beautiful wood with gold inlay lines and covers the walls all the way to the built in bar along the back wall. The far wall has a large desk with papers shuffled around and three different computer screens on the top. Across from the desk is a large burgundy leather couch. With speakers on either side playing classical music. The front door to the office opens and in walks Drake and Max. Drake is wearing a light gray suit, brown leather shoes, and a lavender shirt with an open collar. Max, a black suit and blue shirt.]

Drake: Hello?

[A loud flush is heard from behind the bathroom door in the back of the office. Out walks Barry Goldstein who is wearing tan suit pants, an aqua green shirt, and a matching aqua green and blue striped tie.]

Barry: Champ! You made it! Come in and give me a hug.

[Barry walks over and gives a hug to Drake. He then turns and nods his head toward Max.]

Barry: Maxwell.

Max: Barry.

[He turns back toward Drake.]

Barry: So how does it feel to be the new Maritime champion?

[Drake sits down behind Barry’s desk.]

Drake: I gotta say, it’s pretty freakin’ awesome.

Barry: I bet it is.

[Barry opens up a small wooden humidor on his desk a pulls out a cigar. He offers one to Drake and Max but they decline. He pulls out a match and lights his stogie up.]

Max: So what’s the plan?

Drake: Yeah. Where are we going?

Barry: Aren’t we missing someone? I thought the girlfriend was coming. No?

Drake: Nope. She’s still at her mom’s in Philadelphia. Not coming back until next week.

Barry: Fantastic. Not like you’d be getting laid with Cherry the abstinent stripper anyway.

Drake: Easy, Barry.

Max: Well it’s not exactly like Mr. Showtime hasn’t been messing around up in the great white north.

[Drake shoots a look to Max.]

Barry: Another one?

Max: What do you mean another one?

Drake: Nothing.

Barry: You didn’t tell him?

Max: Tell me what?

Drake: Nothing.

Barry: Champ here got in on with Vanessa the cocktail waitress at a club last month.

Max: You’re amazing.

Drake: I-

Barry: So who was the other one?

Max: Elise Leblanc.

Barry: Frenchy?

Max: Yup.

Barry: Showtime you are a dog. She has a ridiculous set of-

[Drake cuts him off.]

Drake: Enough. Both of you. It’s none of your business what I do on my free time.

Max: You’re right, D.

Barry: Still she’s got an ass-

[Drake cuts him off again.]

Drake: Dude. Where are we going or do Max and I have to make our own reservations?

Barry: Relax, Champ.

[Barry picks his tan suit jacket up off the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts it on.]

Drake: I am relaxed. But I’m also hungry.

Barry: And eat you shall. Like a king. Reservation for four, useless as it may be now, at Peter Luger’s.

Max: Sweet.

Barry: Then we have a private booth at Provocateur. That is of course if you can hang, Max.

Max: I can hang.

Drake: What are we waiting for then?

Barry: For you to tell me what Frenchy’s a-

[Cutting him off again.]

Drake: Drop it.

Barry: Fine dropped. For now…

[The camera fades to black as the three men walk out of the office.]

Monday May 27th, 2013 8:30 pm

[The camera fades back in to the three men sitting at a table in a restaurant finishing up their dinner. All three men are eating steak. Both Barry and Drake are drinking scotch on the rocks and Max is drinking water.]

Barry: So then I said to her, there’s no way in hell I’m ever going anywhere near San Francisco again!

[The three men burst into laughter, apparently after hearing a punch line to one of Barry’s stories.]

Drake: You are too much, Barry.

Barry: I know, I’ve been told.

Max: Thanks again for this spread. This is great.

Barry: Don’t thank me, thank this guy.

[Barry points to Drake.]

Barry: He keeps winning and we’re gonna eat like kings every night. That reminds me. We have a press conference at 9:15 tomorrow morning. You know, to go over the title win and the tournament coming up.

Max: We’ll be there.

Barry: I’m not worried about you being there, Macho Man.

Max: You know, that isn’t very funny.

Drake: Cool it you two.

Barry: Sorry, sorry.

Drake: You know Barry, don’t you have some family or anything? Somebody you’d rather spend Memorial Day with other than us?

Barry: Family? Who needs family? I’ve got two ex-wives that cost me $40,000 a month in alimony.

Max: Holy shit. That’s a lot of scratch.

Drake: No kids?

Barry: I’ve got a dog who’s name is Pete but my first wife won’t let me see him. Says I’m a bad influence. It’s like I’m so fucking terrible I’d give the dog bad ideas. Fucking bitch she is. I love that dog.

[Two waiters come over and clear the dishes off of the table. As his dish is cleared, Drake takes out his iPhone and begins to type on it.]

Barry: Again with the phone, Champ. You sexting Frenchy or what?

Max: No. He’s on twitter. He’s having a twitter feud.

Barry: What the fuck is a twitter feud?

Drake: Just these guys. Starting to annoy me that’s all.

Barry: Who?

Drake: Giani di Luca from SCW and this new guy Jericho Hill.

Barry: The guy with the…?

[Barry motions his hand around his face, mimicking a mask.]

Drake: Yeah, that guy.

Barry: What the hell are you wasting your time with these losers for? You’re a double champ now, D. Don’t bring yourself down to their level.

Drake: Yeah…

Max: Go ahead, tell him.

Drake: Hmm…

Barry: Tell me what?

Drake: Don’t get mad.

Barry: What is it?

Drake: I may have said yes to a tag match in SCW.

Barry: Are you fucking kidding me?

[Barry slams his glass of scotch down on the table.]

Drake: I told you not to get mad.

Barry: Don’t get mad? First you book yourself in this insane tournament on Thursday and now a tag match next weekend in SCW?

Max: It gets better. You’re gonna love this.

Barry: What?

Drake: It’s this weekend, not next weekend.

Barry: What the fuck is wrong with you!?

[He turns to Max.]

Barry: You’re supposed to watch him when I’m not around.

Drake: I can make decisions like this you know.

Barry: Oh really? Let me ask you a question. How you getting out there?

Drake: The jet, no?

Barry Aeh! Wrong answer! We only get to use the jet when I negotiate the costs into the appearance contract. What about hotels? Meals?

Drake: Umm.

Barry: And plus what if you get hurt. Are they covering that?

Drake: Umm.

Barry: Drake, you have me for a reason. Use me. You wanna fly all the way across the country because someone called your Momma fat on twitter, fine. Be an idiot. But at least let me get a five-star hotel thrown into it for you!

Drake: I’m sorry.

Barry: You should be. Now tell me why you wanna fight these guys so bad.

Drake: You know, its not so much di Luca. It’s really this Jericho Hill guy.

Barry: Why? What’s up with him? Did he bang Frenchy too?

Drake: Funny. He just irritates me that’s all.

Barry: Oh I see. Let’s waste our time with some idiot because he annoys you.

Drake: It’s more than that. There’s just something about this guy that irks me. It’s not because I feel threatened by him or anything like that because I don’t. He just irks me.

Barry: What are we children here?

Drake: Look the guy is an asshole ok? But he talks a big talk like he’s Spike f’n Staggs and I just want to shut him up. That’s all. I have an over-whelming urge to beat the living hell out of him. I understand I have nothing to gain by going out there but it’s just something I need to do. I need to step on this guy’s neck and feel it crack. Some one has to and it might as well be me. Over the last week and a half I have watched him belittle and annoy the hell out of everyone. His constant claims about being ‘God’ and from Valhalla and all this nonsensical crap about being a stripper. I don’t get it? Is he god? Is he stripping for money or is he just stripping in front of a mirror like he’s Buffalo Bill? The dude gives me the creeps and he’s gotta get shut up. If I don’t break him now I’ll have to listen to him talk shit for the next month and I don’t think I can take it anymore.

Barry: I don’t think you follow me, Champ. It’s not that you have nothing to gain. It’s that you have so much to lose. What if this guy breaks your arm. Or worse, what if he pins you? What if you lose?

Drake: Please. That’s not gonna-

[Cutting him off.]

Barry: Any given Sunday, Drake. Now I’m not gonna tell you to cancel it. Clearly you need to hurt this guy and I can understand that. I am a lawyer by trade. But next time, use your head. Get me involved.

Drake: Ok.

Barry: Good. Now what about the Italian wannabe?

Drake: Giani?

Barry: Yeah…

Drake: Honestly, I don’t know. I guess he was just an after thought. I didn’t give too much thought about him being there since I was so focused on choking the living hell out of this Jericho guy. Truth is, if he wasn’t such a dickbag I’d probably like him. He’s got talent but I don’t think he’s figured out how to use it yet. Keeps bitching about how he’s not getting respect and all that other immature bullshit. He’s not my problem. He’s all Thatcher’s. I just want Hill.

Barry: Rex?

Drake: Yeah. He’s my partner.

Barry: Hmm… What do you think about all of this?

[Barry turns to Max.]

Barry: Make you want to snap into a Slim Jim?

Max: Fuck you Barry!

[Drake and Barry crack up.]

Barry: At least we get to go to Vegas.

Drake: You know it.

Max: Umm, guys…

Barry: Yes, Mr. Savage?

[Drake and Barry chuckle again.]

Max: Nothing, never mind. To Provocateur?

Barry: You know it!

[The scene fades to black as Max gets up and Drake and Barry pound the rest of their drinks.]

Monday May 27th 2013 11:30 pm

[The scene fades into a large, packed club. There are tons of people dancing to the pounding house music on the dance floor that has a fountain in the middle of it. Along the back wall are several private, roped areas. In one of them sits, Drake, Max, and Barry. Barry is sitting next to a tall, skinny, blonde woman in a short green dress. Max is sitting with a brunette in a sparkly gold shirt and black leather pants. Drake sits opposite them on another smaller couch, peering into his iPhone and typing furiously.]

Barry: If you don’t put that phone down I’m gonna toss it into that fountain over there.

Drake: Don’t worry about what I’m doing.

Blonde: Come on, Drake. Join the party.

Brunette: Yeah, have some fun with us.

[Drake takes a hard look at his friends and their companions on the couch. He then peers slowly around the dance floor. He looks down at his empty glass of scotch and then looks around for the waitress. After a moment he decides to get up and go over to the bar. As he gets up, Max stops him.]

Max: You ok?

Drake: Yeah, I’m cool. I’ll be right back.

[Drake steps down into the dance floor with his empty glass and tries to push his way through the sea of people. When he finally makes it through and he sets himself up at the bar next to a young woman with dark hair that has bright pink highlights. She is wearing a sleek black dress with tall pink heels.]

Pink: Hi.

[Drake doesn’t pay much mind to her.]

Pink: Aren’t you…

Drake: No.

Pink: Are you sure?

Drake: Yeah, pretty sure.

[The bartender comes over and Drake asks for another scotch.]

Pink: That’s too bad.

[While Drake stares straight a head he hears another girl’s heels click-clack over to the other girl. They start talking and he notices the girls have very similar voices. He turns over to look and there is another girl in tall heels, except these are blue. She is wearing a near identical sleek black dress and has long dark hair with blue highlights in it. As she turns around he can clearly see that these girls are twin sisters.]

Blue: Oh my god, oh my god. You’re Drake Green!

[Drake rolls his eyes.]

Drake: You got me.

Blue: Oh my god! Can we have a picture?

Drake: Sure.

[The two girls lean into Drake and take photos of them selves with him.]

Pink: Will you come hang with us at our booth?

Drake: Sorry girls. Just not tonight.

Blue: Aww. Are you having a bad night?

Pink: We can make it better you know.

Drake: Girls I-

[The girl with the pink hair leans in and kisses Drake. As she does this, the blue-haired twin drops something into Drake’s glass of scotch that the bartender had just dropped off. She then picks up the drink and shoves it into Drake’s mouth. Holding it there while Drake drinks it down.]

Pink: Come on, let’s dance!

[The girls pull Drake onto the dance and they start to dance. Drake starts to feel woozy. His eyes start to burn as he tries to walk back toward the bar and almost instantaneously, he gets a feeling of euphoria. He starts to move with the music and dance with both girls. A giant smile comes across his face and the camera fades to black.]

Tuesday May 28th, 2013 8:50 am

[The camera fades in to a hotel room. It’s a pretty normal looking room, nothing too fancy about it. Tan colored walls with a big picture of a flowerpot above the bed and a TV across the way. In the bed are three people. Two girls with multi-colored highlights in their hair and a man. All of a sudden the man sits up in bed with almost a frightened look in his eyes. It’s Drake. He turns quickly toward the digital clock on the nightstand and he freaks out when he reads it and it says ‘8:50’. He looks to his right and sees the two girls and looks equally as frightened when he sees them. He pans around the room and looks for his clothes. As he sees them, he slips quietly out of the bed as to not wake anyone and the very carefully puts on his lavender shirt and his light gray suit pants. He checks to make sure he has his wallet and his phone and then picks up his shoes and his light gray suit jacket and bolts out the door. He runs quickly down the hallway, hopping a bit as he puts on his shoes, and catches the elevator. As he gets out to the lobby he darts out the front door to a crowded New York City street. He hails a cab and jumps in and then mumbles out some address where he hopes he has to be. He starts to realize that he’s still not sober. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry. He tries to recall the events from last night. He tries to recall how he ended up in a hotel bed with two young woman who had blue and pink highlights in their hair but he can’t remember a thing. All he can remember is that he has a press conference at 9:15 and Barry told him not to be late.

The cab pulls up to a building and Drake throws some money at him. As he jumps out of the cab he starts to feel a bit dizzy. He looks at his platinum watch and he thinks it reads 9:10 but he’s not too sure. He busts through the front door of the building and then off through a hallway down the left side of the lobby. He comes to a side door where two large men are wearing black ‘SECURITY’ t-shirts. He walks through the door and he sees Max, who is wearing a blue suit and a white shirt.]

Max: Jesus Christmas, D. Where the hell have you been?

Drake: I don’t know what happened. I woke up in a hotel room.

Max: Barry is freaking out.

Drake: What else is new. How do I look?

Max: Like shit.

[Barry walks into the room wearing a black suit with light blue pinstripes, a white shirt and a bright blue tie. He is talking on his unnecessarily large Bluetooth device that is sticking out of his ear.]

Barry: I gotta go, Chuck.

[He turns to Drake.]

Barry: Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all morning.

Drake: Sorry, my phone is-

[He gets interrupted by Barry giving him a giant hug.]

Barry: Thank God! I thought you’ve been kidnapped.

Drake: I’m ok. Just a little woozy.

Barry: Well straighten up. You’re going out there.

Drake: Wait. I think I need a minute to-

[Barry pulls Drake by the arm and drags him to a door way and then shoves him through. He stands shocked to see a couple dozen reporters and photographers in the room waiting anxiously to greet him. He starts to feel dizzy again as he makes his way toward to the podium. He looks up at the reporters and they start to ask questions.]

Reporter 1: Drake, how does it feel to be the new Maritime champion?

Drake: Umm…great. It…um…feels great.

Reporter 2: How much did this boost your confidence going into the annual King of the Death Matches tournament?

[The flashing lights begin to take a toll on Drake’s eyes and he starts to wobble toward his right.]

Drake: They…umm…it…umm…I think I need some water.

[He takes one step to the right and then crashes down, face first to the floor. A loud gasp is heard through the crowd as the reporters come up and snap pictures of Mr. Showtime on the ground. Barry and Max come running over with the two security guards.]

Barry: Nothing to see folks. Press conference is over. Thanks for coming.

[Max and one of the security guards help Drake to his feet and bring him back into the other room and close the door. They sit him on a chair and Barry walks back in.]

Barry: Is he ok?

Max: I think so. I think he’s just dehydrated.

[The other security guard brings over a cup of water.]

Barry: Out of all the days today is the day you decide to go out and do drugs. All the times you could’ve blown rails of cocaine with me…No! Not good enough. But I’m sure some slut comes along and boom! You’re Jim fucking Morrison!

Max: Relax will you, Barry.

[Max turns to Drake.]

Max: You ok?

Drake: Yeah I think I’m good.

Barry: This is a PR nightmare, Champ.

Drake: Barry, do me a favor?

Barry: What?

Drake: Shut up. You’re making my headache worse.

[Drake stands up and walks over to Barry.]

Barry: This is the biggest press conference we’ve had so far.

Drake: I don’t care about this stupid f’n press conference. I don’t care about your rules and I really don’t care about being some mainstream superstar.

[Max smiles.]

Drake: I’m with you man. I’m on board but don’t forget that I’m a wrestler. I’m not an actor or a model. My entire existence is based on aggression and impulse. Yeah I screwed up and probably did something I shouldn’t have last night. But so what. The only two things on my mind right now are King of the Death Matches and Jericho fucking Hill. I don’t care about public appearances or anything else. After I walk into the Prudential Center on Thursday and win, I’m gonna go to Vegas and all my attention is gonna go to Hill. All of it. And maybe after I kick his tiny little head in, then and ONLY then will I do a press conference. Are we clear?

Barry: Yeah, Champ. Loud and.

Drake: Good.

[Drake walks back over to the chair and sits back down. He picks up his water and takes a few big gulps.]

Drake: Now, where are we staying in Vegas?

[Barry relaxes a bit.]

Barry: Where else? The Hard Rock, baby.

[Max tries to interrupt.]

Barry: Three days and two nights of the most ridiculous shit in the world. I got strippers, I got private blackjack tables and I got private sections of clubs baby. After you waste that weirdo Hill, it’s all about party-time with the hottest chicks on the strip. Bought and paid for, bitches. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas baby.

Max: Umm…

Barry: What is it Slim Jim? I’m having a moment here.

Max: I know its called Sin City Wrestling and everything, but this weekend’s show isn’t in Vegas.

Drake: What?

Barry: Where the hell is it then?

Max: Hayward, California.

Drake: Where the hell is that?

Max: About a half hour east of San Francisco.

Barry: Oh, come on!

[The camera fades to black as Max and Drake chuckle.]

The most magical, the most fantastical Showstopper of all time...

Former SCW World Heavyweight Champion

Former SCW Roulette Champion [1x]

Twitter: @The_RealDG