POST-CRASH: The Prince Speaks

[jediPREZ]

*** - supplied by Jon Morris through the miracle of email.

(CUTTO the backstage area of the Paul Tsongas Arena IMMEDIATELY
following THE POLISH PRINCE's match with NFW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION SHANE SOUTHERN. The Prince is toweling off, dressed in his warmup sweats, as his daughter Vivian stands nearby, holding the duffelbag containing her father's gear. The Prince is smiling but weary, drying his thick gray hair vigorously. JUST MARK runs up
to the elder Ryconik with his microphone outstretched)

MARK: "Prince! Prince! You've just dropped a BOMBSHELL announcement on the NFW fans!"

PRINCE: "Mark! Mark! Yes I did! (laughs)"

MARK: "Ah, Prince ... can you tell us how you're feeling right now?
What's your next step, WHO ARE YOU FACING AT FUTURESHO-"

PRINCE: (Ryconik cups the microphone with one giant hand, and takes it away from Mark, smiling the whole time) "Mark, I feel like a million bucks, like I got a load'a weight offa my shoulders, and as for Futureshock - well, we'll see. I'm leaving it up t'the front offices t'pick an appropriate opponent. (pause) I wanna be surprised. (pause, smiling) But Mark, I need t'borrow this
stick from ya for just another second, is that alright?"

MARK: "Okay, sure ..."

PRINCE: (To camera) "Lissen, Futureshock is still a little bit away,
and in th'meantime I feel I owe somethin' t'someone out there. I did him some wrong an' I feel I gotta make it up t'him. So. (clears his throat) MISTER DREAD, here's how I see it, I didn't have my head on straight th'last time you an' me had a chance t'tussle, and I ... well, I made it inta somethin' less than it coulda been. So if yer willin', I'm extendin' this offer t'ya. Next House Show
we got comin' up, Dread, I'd like t'meet you in th'middle of that ring for a clean, shoot match. No tricks and no swerves, just you an'me puttin' th'hooks t'each other straight, you got my word ... "

(The Prince pauses, and breathes deep, still smiling gently as his
dark, deepset eyes peer into the camera)

"Assumin' that's good enough, still. I hope t'see ya in th'ring again, Dread, and if not - no hard feelin's. I leave it up to ya." (He turns and hands the mic back to Mark)

MARK: "But Prince, what about - "

PRINCE: "Mark, I'm gonna go hose off, and then I'm gonna go walk in
th'night air, and see if it smells any different knowin' that my time in that ring is comin' to an end. You take care, and I'll see y'at th'next show ..."

(The Prince and his daughter walk off down the halls, leaving Mark and the camera crew behind as the camera FTB ...)

 

[Mister Dread]

::FADEIN on the locker room backstage at the Paul Tsongas arena. MISTER DREAD sits on a bench, leaning back against a locker, his eyes closed. Without looking up, he begins to speak::

MISTER DREAD: A lot has happened tonight. A HUGE night for our sport. No pay-per-view could equal what we've done here tonight, and that's a good thing. There's only one thing that mars this incredible CRASH. One stain on the greatest card in NFW history. And that was Rick Ryconik announcing his retirement.

MISTER DREAD: I ain't gonna sit here and ramble on about all you've accomplished and all you've given to this sport, Prince. You know it, I know it, and the fans know it. You ask Mister Dread if he wants a match at the next house show. You tell me that if I don't wanna, then that's okay. Well, Rick ... do you think I'd pass up a chance to lace up my boots and step into the ring with a LEGEND one more time? Hell no. Of course I'll wrestle you at the next house show. I'd be proud to share a ring with you, Prince. Anytime, anywhere. Count on it.

::FADE TO BLACK::