[ORLANDO] (1) Mike Randalls vs. (4) Dusk

[TH]

Regional semifinal matchup held at the Arena of Champions in Orlando, FL.

One fall to a finish, no time limit, all regular rules apply. Deadline is Friday, April 25th @ 11:59:59 PM EDT, give or take a second.

 

[jediPREZ]

Ten Years Gone

Then as it was, then again it shall be.​

(MUSICUP: 'Ten Years Gone' - Led Zeppelin)

RANDALLS: (V/O) “Dusk, its taken me a lifetime to let it bleed for what a world perceives. ”

(FADEIN: An old-time movie countdown shutters on at 5…4…3… countdown and continues…Suddenly, it cuts to grainy, black and white footage of the 1997 64-man tournament to crown the *P UNIFIED WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION. Suddenly, we cut to an image of a younger MIKE RANDALLS scaling the top turnbuckles with his back facing the infamous HORNET lies motionless on the mat…)

ANNOUNCER V/O: “RANDALLS IS CLIMBING UP TO THE TOP! HE’S ON THE VERGE OF DEFEATING HIS TWO GREATEST RIVALS IN ONE NIGHT! HORNET! GUNS! …THE UNIFIED TITLE ON THE LIIIIIIIIIINE!”

(RANDALLS launches off with a twisting and twirling Corkscrew Moonsault and lands squarely on HORNET as the crowd choruses in BOOS!)

ANNOUNCER V/O: “OH MY GOD! RANDALLS WITH THE COVER! ONE! TWOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

(FADEOUT…the bell ringing, the crowd booing loudly…)

And though the course may change sometimes, the rivers reach the sea.​

RANDALLS: (V/O) “I have no need to tell a story of something nobody sees. All that matters to me is a resolution to rectify the misfortunes caused by my selfish greed.”

(CUTTO: A wavy burst of television static caused by a VCR cassette…the scene levels out to a dim locker room, where an early 2000 MIKE RANDALLS is sitting on a bench…a single light bulb sways above, gently displaying RANDALLS’ crooked smile, sweat-drenched body and unfocused eyes. In the background, the unmistaken muffles of thousands of people jeering echo. A door slams open as RANDALLS’ eyes jut upwards and slit angrily upon recognition of whoever just intruded....)

V/O: “What the hell were you thinking, Mike!? You COULD have RUINED us!””

(FADEOUT…the similar theme of crowd boos dying out in the distance…the music ends.)

Changes fill my time, that’s alright with me…​

(FADEIN: A closeup of ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS' bearded face completely shadowed because of the overpowering shine of the dark orange sun setting behind his head…)

RANDALLS: “While I cannot make allusion to the struggle of wrestling a man ensconced with a woman’s bosom, I will not subject myself to assuming anything about who you are. I only know this, Dusk…we are days away from standing across from each other in a wrestling ring. All I essentially need to know is that once that bell rings...every moment you breathe…I keep coming after you.”

(A slight movement in RANDALLS’ head causes rays of light to refract and reflect off the camera lens, obscuring the view…)

RANDALLS: “For ten years, I gave this sport nothing… everything, but the one thing it’s asked of me. If I suffered some existential meltdown, it does not change why my path has crossed yours now…”

(RANDALLS shifts his head again, his auburn hair and green eyes glowing in focus for a brief second…)

RANDALLS: “…And now for the first time in ten years … three seconds define more than the beating of my heart. A single line written into a record book becomes something tangibly larger than anything I’ve ever possessed. The simplicity of these statements may amuse you, but do not underestimate the importance of what they mean to me.”

(The sun slowly fades behind RANDALLS, his face becoming slightly more defined as the day darkens…he’s smiling and looking straight into the camera lens that’s reflecting thin rays of the red sunset.)

RANDALLS: “For too long, too many starless nights kept me blind…now, I know that I can never make things right if I leave them behind…so, if you know me Dusk…if you understand ANYTHING, I’ve said or shown…our paths seem to cross at a head. For myself, it is a Dawn of a New Day and a STAKE CLAIMED to a trophy with a name far more important to myself… (RANDALLS pauses with a slight smirk) than ANYONE…in this TOURNAMENT.”

(FADETOBLACK)

*thankyouledzeppelin*

 

[CraigM]

Re: Ten Years Gone

"Randalls, I've shed lifetimes of blood just so the world can experience happiness for one pure second."

(FADEIN: Drip. Drip. Drip. The constant beating of rain slamming into the gravel below it. You see a man, drenched from head to toe as he stands out in the middle of a street as the thunderstorm pours endlessly on top of him. His head is still, bent at the neck, and his eyes staring lifelessly at the ground. That same ground that the rain is smashing into. Slowly, he looks up at the camera, and his red eyes flash for all to see. Dusk. He's dressed as if he's about to wrestle a match in the middle of the vacant street. With his trademark trench coat covering his torso you can see the war scars that litter his body, physically and emotionally.)

DUSK: "A million roads will all converge onto just one. This one. We will walk down that path in the pursuit of glory. The chanting of our names inside of an arena will propel us to be more than man, more than human, and more than average. It will lift us to that plateau of greatness, of being a God. You have chosen not to assume knowing anything about me. Good choice, for I don't fool myself into thinking that I know anything about you. To be considered who you are, to be in the position that you find yourself in, you can't be anything less than worthy of the status that has been bestowed upon you. I don't walk into this match blind or arrogant, but cautious and focused. It's the only way you can treat a match like this."

(Silence. Except for the pounding of the droplets of water. He doesn't move or even blink. The fire that burns in his eyes is the same one that burns in his heart as the intensity of the rain increases around him. He doesn't seem the least bit phased though as he stands his ground, letting the heavens open up above him. He welcomes it. He challenges it.)

DUSK: "You talk about how for the first time in ten years, three seconds defines more than the beating of your own heart. Mike, those three seconds, the agonizing pain and glorification that goes along with it, is all I know. It's what my life is centered around. I know nothing except for those three seconds, the smashing of a referee's hand into the clothed ring. It's those three seconds that separate boys from men, and men from God's. You're not naive, Randalls, nor are you a fool. You know what it takes to be the best and you've felt it in the palm of your hand. So have I. We're not average, you and I, instead we continue to ascertain to be great. To be more than great. To be legends. The only difference between us though is that passion, that will to go on. Your words tell me that for the past ten years, those three seconds haven't mattered to you while for me it's all that's mattered. Will your passion run out before mine? Will my heart give me that second wind that your heart isn't prepared or trained for? Will your soul and pride allow you to give up before mine will? I think they will.

(CRACK! Lightning fills the air around Dusk, but he doesn't flinch as the thunder wakens up the simplest organisms. Instead, he remains resolute and determined.)

DUSK: "I've bled everything that I have for this sport, and then some, Mike. I've scaled mountain after mountain in the efforts to be remembered for being something greater than mere human. I strive to be remembered and yearn to be legendary. I have no doubt that you feel those same ambitions that've been placed on your shoulders. We're the last of a dying breed. For eighteen years, I've seen those dreams in my eyes, and those have never changed. The TEAM Invitational Tournament brings together the greatest around. Dan Ryan. Lindsay Troy. Sean Stevens. Mike Randalls. I know the task ahead of me, Mike, and it's one that I don't shun, but that I hold onto tighter than those before me. For too long, starless nights have kept you blind? Mike, those same nights haunt me, never to leave me along. I've staked my entire life for this. At the end of the road, I'll have to look back, and ask myself one simple question. Am I satisfied?

(Finally, he takes a step. Closer and closer to the camera until he's mere inches away from it.)

DUSK: "And it's the question that I ask you now, Randalls. Are you satisfied with your career, your life? Can you step your game up to that next level? Will you prove in that ring that those three seconds matter more to you than ever before? Because, we will stand in that ring, Mike, and around us the world will be still. Nothing else in life will matter except for that one match, at that one moment. You claim that no one else cares about that trophy as much as you. Have you asked yourself what would happen if you encountered the one person that does indeed care more about that trophy than you?"

(A small smile appears on his face.)

DUSK: "Because you'll be staring him in the eyes very soon."

(Fade. To. Black.)

 

[jediPREZ]

One Man's Honor

"I apologize for being so blunt, Dusk...but you're wrapped up in a world I really don't give a sh*t about anymore."

(FADEIN: A simple black curtain backdrop with the TEAM logo spread across diagonally. Currently dressed shirtless and donning a pair of crimson drawstring pants is 'The Wolf' MIKE RANDALLS. He's not smiling, his arms hang relaxed by his side and his emerald eyes are staring straight at the camera.)

RANDALLS: "If you want to wax poetically in some philosophically circular argument of contrasting subjectivity to this match’s future finality, I will not stop you...but I really just don't give a f*ck what YOU think. I'm not in this tournament to watch you try to cleverly show the world you've got the bigger stick. Just bring it, f*cking hit me with it and watch what happens afterwards. (RANDALLS smirks) I will admit, I did find it amusing that you believed Ryan, Troy, Stevens or YOURSELF have EVER impressed me...but I suppose someone so linear-minded would easily assume that accomplishments and accolades earns respect from anyone, let alone MYSELF."

(RANDALLS rolls his head in a circle, closing his eyes...)

RANDALLS: "Maybe that’s why those three seconds have been so important for you for eighteen years. Without the gratification, there's no justification for turning my bones and spirit to dust, is there? I once thought like you did Dusk...I spent five years amassing twenty world championships before I turned the age of 25.”

(RANDALLS opens his eyes, they are not lifeless to say the least.)

RANDALLS: “I lived, breathed and died with the sole purpose of not only defeating any wrestler that dared step into the ring with me...I'd personally try to END THEIR CAREERS, because I felt INSULTED that they thought they could COMPETE with me. So, don't talk to me with some dramatized heartstring tugging fable of wrestling for the gods and asking whether or not I can step up to that next level... You're walking to the ring where HORNET NEVER WON. You're ducking through ropes where GUNS COULDN'T EVEN WALK TO THE FIRST ROW."

(The camera closes in on RANDALLS' face as he looks off to the side, laughing to himself.)

RANDALLS: "Not that I expect anyone, yourself included to even understand why I'm talking about sh*t ten years ago...(RANDALLS regains eye contact with the camera) ...but maybe that can insightfully transcribe how much the word LEGEND means in this day and age of OUR sport. You throw the word around like it DEFINES us…and for someone as selfishly and stubbornly opportunistically minded as yourself to emulate some cosmic sense of passion, just remember that ten years from now...NOBODY is going remember YOU. NOBODY is going to CARE if you leapt off some supposedly exalted mountaintop of wrestling energy. I would know, Dusk...I started asking whether or not I was satisfied with MY career YEARS ago, if there was anything I could give to this sport…so, I started doing moonsaults off balconies handcuffed trying to END IT ALL."

(RANDALLS pauses for a moment, nothing but silence filling the audio waves...)

RANDALLS: "See, I won’t blanket this match with bullsh*t semantics about how important anything is to you. I will ask that if you get a Universal Title shot in PRIME, will that match NOT become YOUR biggest? What about if you reach the finals of the Caldera Invitational, if you enter? Will you consider it less prestigious than the Team Invitational? Will you go on record in those environments PUBLICALLY stating that as a fact? (RANDALLS grits his teeth in frustration for a moment) For me, this trophy means MORE than ANYTHING and EVERYTHING...and for me to say those words, and than watch you whimsically attempt to supplant my integrity with your whole sh*t about living day to day with some cosmic force propelling you…to me, Dusk…that means you’re seriously LACKING in honor, integrity OR respect.”

(RANDALLS thumbs his chest)

RANDALLS: “I spent the last ten years foregoing and forsaking this sport of seeing me as a champion by MY OWN CHOICE. For two years, I REFUSED to win a match out of my desperate desire to REPENT the damage I dealt to THOUSANDS of wrestlers and MILLIONS of fans...we're not talking about one time...we're not talking about five. Try HUNDREDS because of how BAD I beat down the SPORT."

(RANDALLS turns around, looking at the TEAM logo.)

RANDALLS: "When I walk into Orlando, this is the ONLY logo I RESPECT. It is the ONLY PROMOTION that I am signed to. It’s the ONE place that may kickstart and redefine the legacy of a Wolf that lost his Way. (RANDALLS smirks) I’m not like Dan Ryan, I’m not seeking 13 other places to slap a (RANDALLS quotes the air) World Title (unquote) over my shoulder so they sell a few more seats and my sense of self-worth skyrockets. I’m not Lindsay Troy or yourself… searching for the next emo-f*ggot revolution of sports entertainment that’s ready to crown my skills at presenting real-life drama in mundane, everyday made-for-TV situations...or even worse, some twisted Mafioso tale intertwined with a drug-hazed flashback of how I became addicted to vicodin, heroin and angry sex with Karina Wolfenden…all in the span of three months.”

(RANDALLS starts gently touching the curtain…)

RANDALLS: “See, I'm not afraid to pull the curtain aside and show you how much I have INVESTED in this trophy from my LEGACY in the ring. I've got NOTHING ELSE to fall back on, I've got no net underneath me...there’s 63 wrestlers that entered this tournament that will make their way somewhere else. Then there’s me... I’m OUT of NFW. I’m OUT of CSWA. The MERRITT TROPHY is the ONE thing I look at more important than my OWN LIFE because the name engraved on the base represents the solitary starting point of true redemption in MY CAREER."

(RANDALLS starts pulling aside the curtained backdrop and revealing a large corkboard with a poster from ELVIS LIVES XII -- MIKE RANDALLS standing over EDDY LOVE with an electric razor in his hands. LOVE's scalp is severely lacerated and bloodied, his legendary blonde locks shorn and spread across the wrestling mat. RANDALLS is grinning evilly as a referee in the background is yelling for help, LOVE's unconscious as well. The camera closes in on the poster, blurring out RANDALLS and the picture...)

RANDALLS: “Maybe in your eighteen quintessential years of cosmic wrestling perfection on mountaintops, you avoided the pratfalls and problems of a cursed mind and horrifying choices, but I didn’t Dusk…my time in this sport was spent bathing in its poison.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.​

"EDDY! EDDY! EDDY!"

(FADEIN: Blackness. Just the audio to ELVIS LIVES XII.)

BB: Listen to these fans, Sammy! We've got a sold-out and packed house chanting for Eddy Love to put an end to this match and possibly Mike Randalls' chances of winning the Ironman and CSWA World Championship!

SB: I can taste the margaritas, Buckley! Eddy's gonna be throwing a party for a least a whole week on the Blue Ridge Mountain Estate...how much do you think it'd cost to get a stuffed Wolf's head as a gift?

BB: We may find out soon enough! Eddy's reeled in Randalls for the Hurricane Piledriver, and we all know if he hits this...

SB: Then Eddy's going to the fair and coming home with the Teddy Bear!

BB: Eddy trying to lift up Randalls, wait Randalls is kicking his legs! (groans!) OH! Randalls just kicked Eddy in the head! Randalls sets his feet down, Eddy's dazed!

SB: No! NOOOOOOO!

BB: (over boos!) Randalls counters with a back body drop! Eddy rushes to his feet, LOOK OUT! CHOP BY RANDALLS! Eddy's wheeled around, Randalls grabs him from behind! HE'S GOT HIM UHHHHHHHHP!

SB: (over crowd screams!) DEAR GOD.

BB: Oh my god. OH MY GOD.

(There's the the deafening sound of thousands of fans having the wind sucked out of their system. An enormous and viciously fast vacuum of voices in unison having nothing to cheer for anymore.)

BB: RANDALLS JUST HIT A BACKDROP DRIVER! EDDY'S MOTIONLESS! HE'S NOT MOVING!

SB: This isn't happening...this can't be happening!

BB: The Wolf...he's standing over Eddy Love looking down at him with a wild smile, Sammy! He's moments away from not only defeating his most heated rival, but winning this Ironman Challenge and becoming WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION of the CSWA...Chad Merritt gave this man twenty million dollars to show he's the GREATEST WRESTLER IN THE WORLD...and he's...(crowd starts buzzing!) He's walking towards the corner, Sammy...he's going towards that duffel bag he brought to the ring with him.

SB: Something's wrong...Buckley, this isn't right...I don't like the looks of this!

BB: (over screams!) RANDALLS HAS AN ELECTRIC RAZOR! OHNO! LOOK OUT! (screams!) PEE WEE TROUTMAN JUST GOT BLASTED IN THE HEAD!

SB; Anything, but his hair...ANYTHING BUT HIS HAIR!

(SFX: Bell ringing!)

BB: Troutman's calling for the bell, this match is over...RANDALLS JUST GOT HIMSELF DISQUALIFIED! HE DIDN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP! IT WAS ABOUT LOVE AND MERRITT ALL ALONG!

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.​

V/O: “What the hell were you thinking, Mike!? You COULD have RUINED US!”

(FADEIN: RANDALLS closing the curtains of the black TEAM backdrop as the echoes of the random voiceover dissipate. He’s looking up at the logo, standing motionless with his back to the camera.)

RANDALLS: "It’s your choice to show how much you're willing to sacrifice in that ring against me...just remember, I don't move on anywhere else...I CAN’T look past anything besides this tournament...nor the name engraved into my hand.”

(RANDALLS holds up his left hand, turning it around and showing "NOVA" carved and scabbed rather nicely…before opening and closing it twice, then lowering it by his side.)

RANDALLS: “If your over-inflated ego STILL feels this tournament is more important to you than anyone else, so be it…I WILL break your arm or your leg, I will NOT care about whatever OTHER wrestling interests or promotions YOU have. I would expect the same of you, Dusk…because in theory, if pride were the only absolute factor in our match...then we'd both have EVERYTHING to LOSE…”

(RANDALLS turns around and faces the camera again.)

RANDALLS: “But you have a future to deal with after this...another time to wait for a rainy day, so you can pretend to look intense for somebody else. (RANDALLS spits on the floor)That pile of sh*t streaming from your sanctimonious mouth might be bought up in PRIME, hell they’ll give you a title in honor of it. (RANDALLS shakes his head) Not by me, Dusk. Not after what I’ve done, what I’ve seen and what I’ve been through. Not with what I aim to do… and certainly, not under the current circumstances of MY career which you’ve so self-righteously dismissed in the light of your own.”

(RANDALLS smiles for the first time in a long time…)

RANDALLS: “Long ago I would envy your surrender, but now I will show you victory. I’ve let the poison go because I know it will ALWAYS be there for me. Dusk…those rain clouds conspired above your head, I heard them say they wished you were dead. Then they were windswept away with smiles so wide, because they know in Orlando… You will see a sunset that burns your eyes.”

(FADEOUT)

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.​

V/O: “What the hell were you thinking, Mike!?”

(CUTTO: A similar shot of the early 2000 MIKE RANDALLS sitting on a bench…a single light bulb sways above, gently displaying RANDALLS’ crooked smile, sweat-drenched body, etc. In the background, the unmistaken muffles of thousands of people jeering echo. RANDALLS’ eyes jut upwards and slit angrily upon recognition of the man who just intruded...the new vantage point revealing CHAD MERRITT, his suit disheveled and his face extremely flushed from anger.)

MERRITT: (storming in) “You COULD have RUINED US! Eddy’s threatening to sue! Radder’s our World Champion…I’ll be lucky if he even makes three shows in a row!”

(RANDALLS smiles…but he says nothing.)

MERRITT: “You just DISGRACED everything that World Championship…this federation I’ve built…that YOU’VE BUILT.”

RANDALLS: “I told you, Chad. I will NEVER…BE…YOUR CHAMPION. JUST MY OWN.”

(FADETOBLACK)

 

[TH]

Re: One Man's Honor

"Save your apologies, Randalls, for someone who could honestly give a ****."

(FADEIN: The waves of the beach crash into one another, creating this illusion of paradise. Standing in the sand, almost as if he doesn't belong, Dusk is focused on the world around him as he looks at the fading light. Dusk is indeed coming. His stance is resolute though as if he's about to go into battle. Dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a black collared shirt, and his hands firmly placed inside of his pants pockets his eyes slowly shift to the camera following him.)

DUSK: "I'm glad to hear, Mike, that you don't really give a **** about what I think. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. You sit there upon your thone thinking that you're holier than thou, as if you're Charlamagne conquering Italy, and ushering in the Carolingian Renaissance, when you're nothing more than that scared lonely altar boy who got diddled when he was a little boy. Lost and confused, wondering what the world has left to offer you. You stand there, Randalls, wondering why God has subjected you to this life, thinking that you're better than everyone else around you when you're truly nothing special. So, you'll have to excuse me if I don't cower by your words or crumble beneath your ego, a mighty feat in itself. Nor did I enter this tournament to measure who has the bigger stick. Instead, I came to add another tournament on my legacy, one that won't be forgotten. It's in that, that we realize what your biggest fear is. Being forgotten."

(He licks his lips as he begins to sift through the sand, walking closer and closer to the ocean with the thought of it taking him away.)

DUSK: "Yes, I said it. The one thing that you're frightened of is being forgotten. I hear it in your words, I feel it in your tone, and it's there for all to see. A mistake from a man who seldomly makes mistakes. Frankly, I'm surprised at this revelation in you. Does the great Mike Randalls, the Wolf himself, really feel like he's going to be forgotten? Is that fear starting to creep into your mind as you reach the end of your career? I don't enter the ring thinking that I've impressed the man standing across from me, Mike. Instead, I leave that ring, knowing that I've impressed my opponent as he stares blanklessly at the ceiling wondering what honestly happened. But, you've made a mistake in judging me, Randalls. You seem to think those three seconds are gratification for me. You couldn't be further from the truth. Those three seconds are more than gratification or justification of my life, but indeed the sum of my life. It's the air and water that I breathe and drink. Because if I don't compete, if I don't strive for those three seconds, then I'm dead inside.

(A pause.)

DUSK: "You think I don't understand why you're living in the past? The past is what defines us, Randalls. It's what seperates us from the curtain jerkers or those just trying to make a dime. The past is what drives and motivates us to greatness. It's that reality that we came just this close (Dusk raises his fingers to mere millimeters from one another) to acheiving that next rung on the ladder of immortality. It's that realm of possiblity that we can be better then we actually are even though nobody honestly believes that we can. It fuels that fire that burns inside of us to get up each and every day, knowing that greatness is just on the other side of that curtain. It's the past that reminds us of who we are. It's the past that gives definition to our future. To not live in the past is foolish because it humbles you. It never leaves you. It makes you want to raise your game to the next level in the future. The fact that you don't think I understand that, Mike, is what makes you short-sighted, and what will be your eventual downfall. Your inability to realize that the person standing across from you is really no different then you. It's that inevitablity that you will fall and will have to get back up one day. It's your naiveity that will prevent you from being remembered. The one thing in life that you strive for."

(Another pause.)

DUSK: "Let's talk though about how no one shall remember me. Mike, I made my mark long ago, and I have many years still left in front of you. I've travelled some fifty countries and have won countless championships. So many that I don't even remember them all. It's not about the championships or the tournaments, though those are great as well, but it's about the legacy. It's about being remembered forever, and in ten years, when you've given up on the sport that you spit in the face of so often, I'll still be competing. Because, Mike, I bleed this sport. I live this sport. Without this sport, I'd be dead. Yet, one day this generation will move past me, and look at me as washed up, needing to retire because they will want to remember me for what I am. Great. Legendary. It may come off conceited or cocky, but I learned a long time ago that you're doing a disservice to those fans and yourself to deny what you've accomplished. It isn't about the victories, but the journey to that plateau that they care about. They live and breathe watching you climb the mountain time and time again without the thought of giving up in the realm of your thought. Instead, the only thought is sacrifice. What will you have to sacrifice next to reach that next level? What have you sacrificed, Mike? What have you sacrificed?

(He then continues to walk towards the ocean, just feet away from it.)

DUSK: "You asked me how important this tournament to me is. If that thought ever crosses your mind, then you've already lost, and Randalls, you've lost even before you step into that ring. You've tried to enter my mind, break my psyche, and make me question who I am. What I stand for. What I live for. Yet, I never question who I am. I came to terms with who I am a very long time ago. Now, Randalls, it's your turn to come to terms with your past. With your present. And with your future."

(As he reaches the ocean, the camera fades out.)

"And that's me."

(FADETOBLACK)