06-15-14, 06:57 PM

(FADEIN: To a brick wall and “Black Falcon” MALIK ANDERSON, wearing a white cotton button up with a small POLO horse on the heart, black slacks and a simple belt. He’s holding stuff under his right arm - looks like a commencement program, some folders that have the Spelman College logo on it, and a bouquet of flowers. ANDERSON looks off to the side, and then steadies his glare on the camera. This footage looks like it’s being filmed by a cameraphone or a FLIP recorder. We see the “REC” icon and numbers rolling at the bottom left. of the screen. we can hear lots of noise off camera - voices laughing, music, crowd din.
'HANG YOU FROM THE HEAVENS' - THE DEAD WEATHER still loops low over the audio)

SHANIQUA: (Off-camera) “Ok boo-boo, you ON.”

ANDERSON: “New Frontier Wrestling, LOOK AT ME. My name is Malik Anderson, The original BLACK SHEEP of Wrestling. The third cousin in the bloodline of the famous Anderson family, from the SOUTH SIDE of the tracks, from the OTHER side of the tracks. I’ve made a career out of coming to rings all across the world, and plying my trade--being a MASTER at breaking down my opponent’s bodies, wills and spirit. I have BROKEN men’s body parts. I have ENDED men’s careers. I have spent DECADES in this business being a COG in the wheel, of being confident being a tough bastard and getting respect in the locker room. Even in the long years when I was in the Heel locker room, I still got pats on the backs, “Yo Malik, RESPECT.” All of those guys knew I WAS ABOUT MY BUSINESS and don’t EVER F[BLEEEP!] with me. Nobody EVER tried to drop a shit in my dufflebag. Ain’t nobody DUMB enough to try and DISRESPECT me. That’s all I ever bring to my game - love me, hate me, YOU WILL RESPECT ME. That’s all a man has in this world. And now, after of being years removed from my legacy in the Hollywood Wrecking Crew, I’m being DISRESPECTED and I don’t PLAY THAT SHIT.”


(FADEIN - to a veranda surrounded by day-lillies, and harpists strumming beautiful notes that bring a calm to the scene as a butterfly zig-zags past the screen. The camera pans left to LAMONT HOLLYWOOD wearing an all-white suit with blue-blockers on, at least ten thin gold chains dangling to his clavicle-point. He is putting his weight on both hands, pressing down on the all white bannister, and gritting his teeth. In the background, we see the broad back of his son, who’s staring out into a rolling green, arms folded, wearing pressed and crisp khakis and a blue blazer.)

LAMONT: “It’s high time this company had some SENSE TALKED INTO IT’S HEAD. Here it is, EYE, The ‘Manager to the Stars’ no matter what Calvin Carlton tells himself to as he falls asleep in his bassinet at night - but ME, Lamont Hollywood has to stand out here and point out to my son that yes, even having all the CLASS and SOCIAL UPBRINGING money can buy, can still not save you from being SURROUNDED BY STUPIDITY. (BLAINE cocks his head to the left) And what stands before you now, is a man who is a walking DYNASTY TO HIMSELF, who is now (shakes his head) on a collision course with several BAD CHOICES from his past. (Counts off on his fingers) DORCHESTER STRATTON - We NEVER liked you. JJ DeVILLE is almost a NON-FACTOR, and NOW! NOW! That psychopath Mike Randalls, HEY MAN! BUY A SHIRT-- And just to put a tasteless CRUST on this pie, That BENEDICT ARNOLD MALIK ANDERSON… (BLAINE cinches up!)”



ANDERSON: “It’s 2014, ya’ll - it ain’t two thousand mother f[BLEEEP!] FIVE anymore. THE GAME HAS CHANGED. I’m a .. (smiles and looks off camera again) I’M A DIFFERENT MAN. An older man. And I’m a man who doesn’t need to PROTECT anyone anymore. There were times where I SHOULD have pushed forward here in NFW but I PLAYED THE BACK… I STAYED IN A LANE that maybe I didn’t agree with. I saw people PASS ME BY. I (grimaces) I BACKED THE PLAYS of lame horses here in NFW, because of RESPECT. Jack Bryant, (Looks down) Man, I wish him the best, another time I put my hand out… HELD MY HAND OUT FOR ANOTHER PERSON and got NOTHIN’ but a slap across the face for it. Blaine … BLAINE, boy, you know as well as the NFW Universe that I carried your ass like a backpack your whole career. And now here we are - a damned ROADBLOCK. Blaine, I SEE YOU, but I’m LOOKING THROUGH YOU, and RIGHT PAST YOU at what’s around Dorchester Stratton’s waist. We all go WAY back, and it’s funny how time changes things but some men NEVER CHANGE… As you get older you realize that some people aren’t WORTH saving, and you need to look out for your FAMILY, (smirks again) and YO’SELF. . . “


(CUTTO: A Beverly Hills mansion, with the HOLLYWOOD sign and hills smack dab right there in the background. The camera pans back to show us a crystal-clear pool and DORCHESTER STRATTON standing next to it in a red speedo, his hair slicked completely back like a short Patrick Bateman, and cradling the platinum and ruby faced and red-strapped NFW Television Championship on his shoulder, with dark Raybans sitting on top of his head with a red cord connecting around his neck. walking into the shot, wearing a white bikini and a S-H-E-E-R coverup with a large hat is VERONICA ABRAMS RUMSFELD, who kisses his neck and stands behind him, caressing his body)

VAR: (cooing) “MMMMMM Dorchy… The only thing that pool and I have in common is how WET we are being so close to you… (Bites his ear, smiling)”

STRATTON: “Look at my lifestyle. I am the GREATEST NFW World Television Champion of all time. I am greater than that pool noodle Castor Strife. I am greater than Joe the Plumber, whose career I dismantled like cheap IKEA furniture before throwing out into the street. Better than the LATE, GREAT JACK BRYANT, who I concussed to the point he now probably eats his meals with the help of a loving hand who plays ‘airplane’ and guides his Gerber strained peas into his drooling mouth. I am the ASSASSIN, The Bryl-Creem Bully. I am the ALPHA DOG of this company, and am BORED.

The Hellfire Club was an abortion and I am HAPPY it is dead. Rook Black ran for his life because for the first time in his miserable life he was EXPOSED for being MID-ROAD. We all knew it, but inside of that group, there was nowhere else to hide. JJ DeVille is a mental MIDGET trying to control GIANTS and was exposed for the talentless SHAM he is. Which leaves (smirks and VAR looks up at the camera with almost dead, creepy eyes, then goes back to kissing and biting on DORCHESTER)

“BLAINE. Blaine, (laughs and looks down at the TV title) YOU WANT THIS? Do you value what’s LEFT of your wrestling career? Do you see the TRAIL OF BROKEN BODIES that lay at my wrestling boots? You AND your old man? GET IN LINE. Bring Anderson. Bring THE GODDAMN WOLF MIKE RANDALLS TOO. (VAR reaches from behind STRATTON and tips the belt off of his shoulder, and begins licking the plate, not breaking eye contact with him tracing his name with her tongue) After I EXPOSE you all, Mayfield will have to go into his DAYCARE league in Philadelphia and cook up some new people for me to destroy. NEVER has there been a lineup of contenders to this belt that were so WILLING to give their lives up so RECKLESSLY. Jack Bryant wanted to beat me so bad, he might as well be in a WHEELCHAIR. If you saw what I did to him. . . ”

(VAR looks up and wipes her mouth seductively with the back of her hand, a glittering tennis bracelet catches the light)



LAMONT: “There is a fine line between GLORY and FOOLISH PURSUITS. Blaine Hollywood is about to travel down a path to GREATNESS, which is blocked by men who will be stacked like cordwood by his hands. It doesn’t matter which order they happen in: Mike Randalls’ head on a pike, Dorchester’s broken, tiny child-body laying in a ditch with Blaine holding the NFW TV title in his hands, or Malik Anderson FLOATING FACE DOWN IN THE RIVER HE SOLD US DOWN. NO DIFFERENCE.”


ANDERSON: “I’m putting ALLAYA’LL on alert - You’ve seen Malik Anderson EVOLVE right before your eyes. The cocoon has been shed and a FALCON has emerged - proud and MAJESTIC AS A MUTHERF[BLEEP!]ER. Mike Randalls? Look man, I got no fight with you - but I’ll say this - YOU DO YOU, I DO ME. We happen to be looking at the same targets, so really (shrugs) we’ll have to see WHO BLASTS THEM TO SHRAPNEL FIRST. (We hear a female voice say off-camera “Daddy come take a picture!” ANDERSON smiles and nods to the voice, then turns back to us, stone-faced) Listen to my words. I have NEVER been so serious, or dedicated in my life. DORCHESTER? Brother, I’m COMING FOR THAT BELT. Blaine? Get out of my way or prepare to get ROLLED THE HELL OVER. BELIEVE THAT.” (MALIK S-L-O-W-L-Y rakes his thumb across his throat!)