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Waltz vs. Tre

blackshire

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Let Me Be Your TV's Champion.

(FADEIN: The National Museum of Photography, Film & Television. [ http://www.nmsi.ac.uk/nmpft/ ] West Yorkshire, England. Ice Tre strolls through a massive display focused on the Golden Era of TV, the 1950's. Looking absurdly out of place, a flash-bulb camera hanging awkwardly from a fake gold chain, Ice Tre snatched off his bulky sunglasses and squinted hard at the life-size Honeymooners diorama before him.)

ICE TRE: ...that guy alive?

(He glanced at an english couple on holiday in Yorkshire who caustiously tip-toed past him. Tre, still unsure if the wax figures standing stoically in a mock-living room weren't actually "faking it", decides to ask the "locals".)

ICE TRE: Hey! ... that guy alive?

Man: I'm afraid not ...

(Dumb-founded, the couple quickly move on ... just as dumb-founded but for entirely different reasons, Tre resolves to take a snapshot of the scene and "examinate" it later.)

ICE TRE: Hmmm...

(That would be when he noticed the 4-man camera/sound crew that had been following for the last seven and a half minutes.

ICE TRE: Hey! S'appnin'?!?

(He snaps a quick shot of the team in action, smiling ear to ear.)

ICE TRE: Here I am, preparing for victory. Preparing to win the GXW ... er ... GWE ... um ... the GXWE Television Championship in the best place in ALL of Europe to gain an understanding of the importance of what that belt represents. The Museum of TV and Stuff. And that's what the TV title is all about! That belt, and the man who holds it, represents Televisions Across the Globe!

(He nods his head, confidantly.)

ICE TRE: And I'z be ready to represent YO' television ... and EVERYBODY's television, whether you live in America, Europe, or in France. Even if you ain't GOT no Television; Guess what? I *STILL* got your back, *****es! Who else can say that? ... who else? Ain't nobody! Ice Tre was BORN to be the TV Champ. I've got the look--

(Pauses, folds his arms across his chest and poses - almost menacingly. His arm accidently hits a button on his camera, and the flash goes off.)

ICE TRE: --damn! ... I got the look, I've got the style, the moves, and the EXPERIENCE that NOONE in GXW ... E ... can match up to. There isn't a man in this federation that holds a victory over me. Not ONE. What other man on the roster who has a title shot against Stephen Watlz at the next Revolution can say that? Only ONE man fits that mold, baby. And his name ... is Ice Tre.

(Tre slaps his shades back on and grins.)

ICE TRE: But this match is about more than JUST representin' your television! It's about dethroning a guy that has to' bidniss' UP since he's come to this promotion. Stephen Waltz is one tough chickenhead, I ain't gon' deny that. But what I *WILL* do is say that I - Ice Tre; K'ang of the Streets, the Mack Dat Ain't Black - will GUARANTEE victory! That's right, I said it! I will defeat Stephen Waltz. I will become the Champion of Every Television in the World, and then it's gon' be ON, fo' REAL! You don't *KNOW* who it is you're triflin' with, Waltz. You don't *KNOW*!

(Laughing as he passes the camera, Tre snaps a photo of a display case holding several coats that Ed Sullivan wore -- just before tripping over his own feet and crashing headfirst onto the hardwood floor.)

(FADEOUT.)
 

RStrawsma

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SCENE BEGINS

(Noon in Stephen Waltz's downtown Indianapolis pad. It's a nice, sunny afternoon in the capital of the Hoosier state, as we can see by looking out the windows that line the wall of the spacious apartment. We open up with a focused shot on an end-table against the wall. In the background we hear rhythmetic breathing, as though someone's in the middle of a strenuous activity.)

(On cue, the phone rings. The heavy breathing stops for a moment, and footsteps approach. Waltz walks into the frame on the fourth ring, in black sweats and a white tank-top, his dark brown hair tied back into a ponytail. He's sweating, so it's obvious he's been working out. He doesn't bother with the receiver; he puts it on Conference Call, and the speaker comes to life. A familiar voice is on the other end.)

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Kid, you there? It's Terry!

(Stephen nods.)

Stephen Waltz
Hey, Terry. Yeah, I'm here.

(Waltz turns around and goes back to what he was doing. Against the other wall is a bar set about seven feet off the ground. He must have been doing pull-ups.)

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
...is this on the speaker?

Stephen Waltz
Yeah.

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Why didn't you just pick up the phone?

Stephen Waltz
I'm a little busy now, Terry.

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Busy? With what? Oh no... don't tell me you're jerking off, Stephen! You've got that cute girlfriend to think of, but for God sakes man, have some dignity!

(Terry laughs on the other end as Stephen jumps back onto the bar and continues with pull-ups. There's a lingering silence on the other end, as Terry is possibly listening in.)

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
...oh my God, you're training.

Stephen Waltz
And... doing a promo... like I said... kinda busy...

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Uhh... kid? Did you see the bill? You're up against Ice Tre?

Stephen Waltz
I know...

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
...yeah, but uhh... kid, you DO realize that Ice Tre is the most pathetic excuse of a professional wrestler, like... EVER?!

(Waltz doesn't respond. He keeps doing his pull-ups, breathing in time with his motion.)

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
From what I've heard the guy's never won a match IN HIS LIFE! How did you ever get booked against this guy?

(Waltz drops back to the floor, breathing heavily. He grabs a towel and wraps it behind his neck.)

Stephen Waltz
He laid down a challenge... and I accepted.

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
WHAT?! Are you crazy? That's like... career suicide!

Stephen Waltz
Perhaps...

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
...and you're still going through with this? Stephen, I don't care if you choose to fight this guy or not... but why train? It's a waste of time against Ice Tre; you're already the best there is in this biz.

Stephen Waltz
Terry, I recall an old adage a wise man once told me... that no matter who your opponent is, and no matter what his level of talent, whether it be way above or way below your own... the second you miss a beat, and sit out on your training, you leave yourself open for ANY attack that may prove to be crippling.

(Terry scoffs on the other end.)

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Now what lame-brained moron told you THAT?!

Stephen Waltz
You did, Terry.

(A moment of silence on the other end.)

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Oh, well...

Yeah, you're goddamb RIGHT you leave yourself open for any attack! You better be busting your ass over there, kid!

Stephen Waltz
I am.

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Ah, good...

Well, my plane leave's tomorrow morning... so I'll see you then, right?

Stephen Waltz
Yep. I got a spare room all set up for you. Can't wait to see you.

Terry "The Idol" Anderson
Kick-ass... I'll talk to you later.

(Terry hangs up, and Waltz hits the button to kill the phone. He shakes his head, then turns to the camera with a shrug.)

Stephen Waltz
What can you say about that guy...?

(He laughs for a moment, and turns away, going back to the other side of the room. Passing by the sofa before his big screen TV, Waltz plucks up a button-up shirt that was merely laying around and puts it on. Against the other wall is a mirror, and he looks into it, observing himself.)

Stephen Waltz
Well, Battleground Britain has come and gone. Still, I am the Television Champion...

And still, no man in this business can say he pinned my shoulders on the mat for three counts... or made me tap out.

(He looks back to the camera with a smile, buttoning up his shirt.)

Stephen Waltz
Another Revolution... on the horizon. Once again, the Television Champion must make his appearance before the cameras, doing his fifteen minutes of duty for the viewing audiences at home. Doing... what he has been doing for almost a full year to near perfection.

And my opponent? Well, many would have something to say about Ice Tre, and not in the positive sense... but no matter who he is or how ridiculous some may see him, I take every match seriously. He could be the lowest jobber on the roster or a legend in every sense... when he's in the ring against me, he's nothing more than my opponent, and I will do everything I can to defeat him.

(With his shirt buttoned, Waltz turns back to the furniture arrangement in the center of the room and finds his shoes. He takes a seat on one of his plush leather chairs and begins to put them on, lacing them up.)

Stephen Waltz
If there's one thing I admire about Ice Tre--if there's ANYTHING to admire--it's that he knows what he's going for. But the Television Title isn't merely knowing the history of what some people call the Idiot Box. The TV Title represents one thing... entertainment.

Humor is one thing, but professional wrestling is another. I work hard at what I do, and it pays off. From being nothing more than a fledgling rookie, I am now an established man on this roster. I have thousands of fans. I busted my butt to be where I am...

And I won't be giving it up just yet.

(He comes to his feet and goes back to the mirror, looking himself over one last time, then looks back to the camera.)

Stephen Waltz
Ice Tre can "garuntee" victory for the people he chooses to represent... to each his own. I, personally, don't make any promises...

I just look back to the year I've been in this industry... and point out the fact that no man has officially pinned me for three counts in the ring. I look back on Adam Benjamin... Gabriel Poe... Reaver... Eric Gibson... and the myriad of others who fell to my wrestling ability.

Ice Tre's just going to be another name on that list.

(He moves to the door, and looks to the camera a final time.)

Stephen Waltz
Well, I have some jogging to do. Enjoy the rest of your day... and reflect well on what I've said.

(With a nod, he opens the door, and steps out of his apartment. Fade to black.)

SCENE ENDS
 

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