Mister Dread
League Member
::FADEIN on the exterior of a squat brick building. Battered and worn through years of disuse, it is indistinguishable from any number of buildings awaiting the wrecking ball. A weather beaten marquee hangs there, bearing silent witness to the passing of the years. Emblazoned across it is the legend “Basham-Schultz Wrestling Academy”. Windows along the front are mostly gone, a few covered over with boards. It has the look of an old movie theater, and perhaps it once was. The ticket seller’s booth out front is plastered over with posters for local bands and wrestling shows, though most are faded, ripped, and on the better side of a decade old. We know from past experience that the interior is not in much better repair, but the ring and the nautilus equipment are still serviceable. “The Wolf” Chris McMillan stands before the doors, gazing up at the marquee. There’s a far away look in his eyes, and this has the feel of ritual. McMillan heaves a sigh and pushes through the double doors. Stopping in the lobby, he produces a cell phone from a pocket of his motorcycle jacket. It’s a Motorola MicroTac circa 1989, roughly the size and shape of a brick. McMillan extends the antenna and flips the flippy thing, dialing a rapid-fire number::
THE WOLF: Mike … it’s Chris. I’m at the gym, and I was hoping we could run some rope drills. You up for it?
::There’s a pause as McMillan listens to the reply on the other end::
THE WOLF: No, no, my knees are fine. Better than ever.
::McMillan grimaces, bending to rub at his left knee as he shifts his weight to the other leg::
THE WOLF: Twenty minutes? Sure. I’ll hit the rower for while. See you then. What? Who? THAT crazy bastard? Well, bring him if you want. Bye.
::McMillan flips the phone closed, cramming it back into his jacket pocket. Gathering up his gym bag, he heads for the second set of double doors that goes down into the gym proper. Pushing through the doors, he freezes. Jason Payne stands in the center of the ring, having just finished up with some drills. Hearing the doors creak open he turns to look, surprised that someone has entered the run down building. Standing in the middle of the ring, Payne watches as Chris McMillan comes strolling in. A look of mild surprise passes Payne's face for a moment as he looks at his "former" tag-team partner. Payne remains silent and lets the moment hang in the air as he looks down at Chris from the ring::
THE WOLF: (quietly) What are you doing here, Jason? Did you come here to throw down with me? This is the last place I want to fight, Jay. I’m tired of it.
PAYNE: I was about to ask you the same question, Chris. But that question is not to be answered yet. Not now.
:
ayne folds his arms and watches Chris warily. Moving to the opposite side of the ring, he rolls outside and grabs the towel that is in the corner. Wiping his brow, Payne walks around to a folding metal chair and picks up a duffel bag. Walking back to the ring, he pulls out an envelope and throws it into the middle of the ring. Folding the towel he places it in the bag and looks across the ring at Chris.::
PAYNE: Don't open that ‘till I leave. You know, I am surprised that you and I haven't crossed paths here earlier. But I guess i is slightly more than fitting that we come full circle in the building that started everything all those years ago. I wonder ...what will come of this?
THE WOLF: What are you talking about? You turned your back on this place a long time ago. You turned your back on everything we built here. You turned your back on me, and you turned your back on yourself. Now, all of a sudden you come waltzing in here … (McMillan points to the envelope) … to give me a go(BEEP)amn VALENTINE?!? I don’t think so. What’s your game, Payne?
:ayne chuckles and folds his arms over his chest, giving McMillan a mock pouty look::
PAYNE: Aw now come on, Chris. You've known me long enough to know that I don't play games. And when I do play games, someone usually ends up hurt. Don't come in here pointing the finger at me, Chris, before you look deep within in yourself and ask if you really feel that way. Or are you just trying to protect something from yourself, and the fans? Ask yourself why you come here each and every week? What are you trying to accomplish? What am I trying to accomplish? You are so worried about figuring out the next conspiracy, that you aren't concerned with just being."
:AYNE walks around the ring, opposite of McMillan, heading for the door::
THE WOLF: So that’s it, huh? A greeting card, a bunch of doublespeak and stupid riddles? Quit wasting my time, Jason. If I see you in here again, I’m gonna bury you. There’s nothing here for you anymore. Just walk away.
:ayne stops at the door before going through it, not turning back to face Chris::
PAYNE: Instead of focusing on burying me, focus on burying your regret. Focus on what's in that envelope, and try to remember...
:ayne slowly passes through the doors and walks out of the old arena, not giving the Wolf a chance to respond. McMillan glares after Payne, speaking to the empty arena::
THE WOLF: I have no regrets. And I have not forgotten anything. Anything. My vision is still clear.
::McMillan turns towards the envelope, staring speculatively at it. McMillan makes his way to the ring and rolls in, grabbing the envelope and tearing it open. A pair of 8x10 glossies falls out. The Wolf bends down to retrieve them, staring at them. A frown crosses his face, and we see that they’re nothing more than old Dogs of War promotional shots from around 1994::
THE WOLF: Promo shots? Why in the hell did he go through all that to give me some pictures?
::The old double doors let out a squeal, and McMillan spins around, dropping the photos. Fists at the ready, McMillan glares around, searching for Payne in every corner. It isn’t Payne that comes through the door, though, and The Wolf relaxes::
THE WOLF: (quietly) Mike. How you doin’, buddy?
::”Old School” Mike Rodgers comes down the aisle, followed closely by Puroresu-san. Rodgers is a grizzled vet, and a former Japan Thunder Pro triple-crown winner. He’s McMillan’s mentor and trainer in puroresu and the art of submission wrestling. Puroresu-san, trailing closely behind, is a crazy Japanese bastard::
RODGERS: How’s it hanging, Wolf? Ready to go to work?
::Rodgers and Puroresu-san hit the ring. Puro snatches up the glossies from the mat::
PURORESU-SAN What are this picture? NAKED BEA ARTHUR! It is sick that you are aroused by the Golden Girls! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
::Rodgers snatches the pictures from Puro’s hands::
RODGERS: Quit that, you loony twat. You’re gonna ruin them. Just what ARE these, anyway?
THE WOLF: Those? They used to be everything, Mike. Now they’re just pieces of paper. Let’s get to work.
::Rodgers shrugs, not understanding but not willing to argue the point any further. He drops the pictures on the ring apron as we FADE TO BLACK::
THE WOLF: Mike … it’s Chris. I’m at the gym, and I was hoping we could run some rope drills. You up for it?
::There’s a pause as McMillan listens to the reply on the other end::
THE WOLF: No, no, my knees are fine. Better than ever.
::McMillan grimaces, bending to rub at his left knee as he shifts his weight to the other leg::
THE WOLF: Twenty minutes? Sure. I’ll hit the rower for while. See you then. What? Who? THAT crazy bastard? Well, bring him if you want. Bye.
::McMillan flips the phone closed, cramming it back into his jacket pocket. Gathering up his gym bag, he heads for the second set of double doors that goes down into the gym proper. Pushing through the doors, he freezes. Jason Payne stands in the center of the ring, having just finished up with some drills. Hearing the doors creak open he turns to look, surprised that someone has entered the run down building. Standing in the middle of the ring, Payne watches as Chris McMillan comes strolling in. A look of mild surprise passes Payne's face for a moment as he looks at his "former" tag-team partner. Payne remains silent and lets the moment hang in the air as he looks down at Chris from the ring::
THE WOLF: (quietly) What are you doing here, Jason? Did you come here to throw down with me? This is the last place I want to fight, Jay. I’m tired of it.
PAYNE: I was about to ask you the same question, Chris. But that question is not to be answered yet. Not now.
:
ayne folds his arms and watches Chris warily. Moving to the opposite side of the ring, he rolls outside and grabs the towel that is in the corner. Wiping his brow, Payne walks around to a folding metal chair and picks up a duffel bag. Walking back to the ring, he pulls out an envelope and throws it into the middle of the ring. Folding the towel he places it in the bag and looks across the ring at Chris.::PAYNE: Don't open that ‘till I leave. You know, I am surprised that you and I haven't crossed paths here earlier. But I guess i is slightly more than fitting that we come full circle in the building that started everything all those years ago. I wonder ...what will come of this?
THE WOLF: What are you talking about? You turned your back on this place a long time ago. You turned your back on everything we built here. You turned your back on me, and you turned your back on yourself. Now, all of a sudden you come waltzing in here … (McMillan points to the envelope) … to give me a go(BEEP)amn VALENTINE?!? I don’t think so. What’s your game, Payne?
:
ayne chuckles and folds his arms over his chest, giving McMillan a mock pouty look::PAYNE: Aw now come on, Chris. You've known me long enough to know that I don't play games. And when I do play games, someone usually ends up hurt. Don't come in here pointing the finger at me, Chris, before you look deep within in yourself and ask if you really feel that way. Or are you just trying to protect something from yourself, and the fans? Ask yourself why you come here each and every week? What are you trying to accomplish? What am I trying to accomplish? You are so worried about figuring out the next conspiracy, that you aren't concerned with just being."
:
AYNE walks around the ring, opposite of McMillan, heading for the door::THE WOLF: So that’s it, huh? A greeting card, a bunch of doublespeak and stupid riddles? Quit wasting my time, Jason. If I see you in here again, I’m gonna bury you. There’s nothing here for you anymore. Just walk away.
:
ayne stops at the door before going through it, not turning back to face Chris::PAYNE: Instead of focusing on burying me, focus on burying your regret. Focus on what's in that envelope, and try to remember...
:
ayne slowly passes through the doors and walks out of the old arena, not giving the Wolf a chance to respond. McMillan glares after Payne, speaking to the empty arena::THE WOLF: I have no regrets. And I have not forgotten anything. Anything. My vision is still clear.
::McMillan turns towards the envelope, staring speculatively at it. McMillan makes his way to the ring and rolls in, grabbing the envelope and tearing it open. A pair of 8x10 glossies falls out. The Wolf bends down to retrieve them, staring at them. A frown crosses his face, and we see that they’re nothing more than old Dogs of War promotional shots from around 1994::
THE WOLF: Promo shots? Why in the hell did he go through all that to give me some pictures?
::The old double doors let out a squeal, and McMillan spins around, dropping the photos. Fists at the ready, McMillan glares around, searching for Payne in every corner. It isn’t Payne that comes through the door, though, and The Wolf relaxes::
THE WOLF: (quietly) Mike. How you doin’, buddy?
::”Old School” Mike Rodgers comes down the aisle, followed closely by Puroresu-san. Rodgers is a grizzled vet, and a former Japan Thunder Pro triple-crown winner. He’s McMillan’s mentor and trainer in puroresu and the art of submission wrestling. Puroresu-san, trailing closely behind, is a crazy Japanese bastard::
RODGERS: How’s it hanging, Wolf? Ready to go to work?
::Rodgers and Puroresu-san hit the ring. Puro snatches up the glossies from the mat::
PURORESU-SAN What are this picture? NAKED BEA ARTHUR! It is sick that you are aroused by the Golden Girls! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
::Rodgers snatches the pictures from Puro’s hands::
RODGERS: Quit that, you loony twat. You’re gonna ruin them. Just what ARE these, anyway?
THE WOLF: Those? They used to be everything, Mike. Now they’re just pieces of paper. Let’s get to work.
::Rodgers shrugs, not understanding but not willing to argue the point any further. He drops the pictures on the ring apron as we FADE TO BLACK::