LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
CASTOR: (V/O) “At some point you have to ask yourself, Impulse…”
(Black Screen/White Letters: “The Champion, one day after Reloaded 13.”)
(FADEIN: Night time – CASTOR STRIFE strolls a sidewalk in Los Angeles, CA, hands stuffed inside a form-fitted maroon leather coat, zipped to the neck. His hair hangs down freely, and he’s wearing square blue-lens sunglasses reminiscent of Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker’s Dracula)
CASTOR: “…what is it, exactly, that you’re chasing? Has the World Championship, the lure of being the world’s best brought you this far, delivered to me a fourth time? I should think it’s about more than that by now. Something deeper. You learned something about yourself since we last met, and now I can’t call you Randall, because you are no longer him.”
“For Randall learned the truth about the mask, the façade of the Marathon Man, IMPULSE, when that flawed path led him to doom and disappointment. I instructed Randall, tried to get his mind right, but he forced my hand and was broken by my final lesson.”
“And like many a doe-eyed idealist before him, Randall paid for that secret knowledge with his life. Because it isn’t he who is at the wheel, but a madman on a suicide mission.”
“The mask pulled Randall out from behind its face. The cradle discarded the infant. C’est la vie Monsieur Knox.”
(Behind Castor is a festival of lights and activity, blanketed in a star-lit sky that he moves beneath with the calculated swiftness of a feline)
CASTOR: “So what does Impulse want with me? Does it want to be destroyed, put out of its miserable futility? I can arrange that. I’ve made such arrangements for men I liked far less than Randall Knox, and if his true master wants me to push their car over the cliff for good, I would oblige them.”
“But if you are in there, Randall, caught behind a messianic complex that’s cuckolded your free will as it molests your purity, then I implore you to grab the wheel at first chance and turn back.”
“This time is different than last. I want you, it, out of my life for good. Your high-minded morality, the belief that you’re the best in spite of what I’ve taught this industry over the last three years…”
“…I want it gone. It is an affront to my title, the thing I’ll never lose, because it tells me that you see a weakness of some kind that you think can be capitalized on. I don’t know what it is you THINK you see, but it isn’t there. It’s a mirage. It’s a LIE.”
“Your gOD never made a man who could beat me. I promise. To challenge Castor Strife is nothing like climbing a mountain. No summit is in your line of sight. There is a shovel in your hands, a hell beneath to which you dig, and your best hope is that the blisters make you quit before I do. If I get a hold… (whispers) I promise. (smiles, subtly laughs) I promise.”
“Many things happened in New York over the weekend, but I only concern myself with things of a SERIOUS nature. I’m a serious man, friend. I look out at the landscape of the New Frontier, and I see children playing with their toys in a tiny sandbox. When those children grow into men with ambitions that concern me, I’ll make it known.”
“Until then, welcome back to the marquee, Impulse. It’s your last big role before I make you tragi-famous. They say in Hollywood, that Superman’s cape is the greatest curse a man can wear. But a chapter will be written on the façade of the Marathon Man: the mask, the Impulse that drove a good man to his destruction."
(FADEOUT)
(Black Screen/White Letters: “The Champion, one day after Reloaded 13.”)
(FADEIN: Night time – CASTOR STRIFE strolls a sidewalk in Los Angeles, CA, hands stuffed inside a form-fitted maroon leather coat, zipped to the neck. His hair hangs down freely, and he’s wearing square blue-lens sunglasses reminiscent of Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker’s Dracula)
CASTOR: “…what is it, exactly, that you’re chasing? Has the World Championship, the lure of being the world’s best brought you this far, delivered to me a fourth time? I should think it’s about more than that by now. Something deeper. You learned something about yourself since we last met, and now I can’t call you Randall, because you are no longer him.”
“For Randall learned the truth about the mask, the façade of the Marathon Man, IMPULSE, when that flawed path led him to doom and disappointment. I instructed Randall, tried to get his mind right, but he forced my hand and was broken by my final lesson.”
“And like many a doe-eyed idealist before him, Randall paid for that secret knowledge with his life. Because it isn’t he who is at the wheel, but a madman on a suicide mission.”
“The mask pulled Randall out from behind its face. The cradle discarded the infant. C’est la vie Monsieur Knox.”
(Behind Castor is a festival of lights and activity, blanketed in a star-lit sky that he moves beneath with the calculated swiftness of a feline)
CASTOR: “So what does Impulse want with me? Does it want to be destroyed, put out of its miserable futility? I can arrange that. I’ve made such arrangements for men I liked far less than Randall Knox, and if his true master wants me to push their car over the cliff for good, I would oblige them.”
“But if you are in there, Randall, caught behind a messianic complex that’s cuckolded your free will as it molests your purity, then I implore you to grab the wheel at first chance and turn back.”
“This time is different than last. I want you, it, out of my life for good. Your high-minded morality, the belief that you’re the best in spite of what I’ve taught this industry over the last three years…”
“…I want it gone. It is an affront to my title, the thing I’ll never lose, because it tells me that you see a weakness of some kind that you think can be capitalized on. I don’t know what it is you THINK you see, but it isn’t there. It’s a mirage. It’s a LIE.”
“Your gOD never made a man who could beat me. I promise. To challenge Castor Strife is nothing like climbing a mountain. No summit is in your line of sight. There is a shovel in your hands, a hell beneath to which you dig, and your best hope is that the blisters make you quit before I do. If I get a hold… (whispers) I promise. (smiles, subtly laughs) I promise.”
“Many things happened in New York over the weekend, but I only concern myself with things of a SERIOUS nature. I’m a serious man, friend. I look out at the landscape of the New Frontier, and I see children playing with their toys in a tiny sandbox. When those children grow into men with ambitions that concern me, I’ll make it known.”
“Until then, welcome back to the marquee, Impulse. It’s your last big role before I make you tragi-famous. They say in Hollywood, that Superman’s cape is the greatest curse a man can wear. But a chapter will be written on the façade of the Marathon Man: the mask, the Impulse that drove a good man to his destruction."
(FADEOUT)