(FADEIN to the outside of a small Irish pub called Vaughn’s in Hartford, Connecticut. Leaning up against the brick wall, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips, stands Anarky. His facepaint is noticeably absent. He’s holding a half-empty Smithwick’s bottle in his left hand.
As he stands there, a young college student in a tweet jacket, giant sideburns, and hipster glasses walks up to him, notebook in hand.)
STUDENT: “Er, Mr. Anarky? I’m Daryl Brown… I called earlier about an interview?”
ANARKY: “What’s up, kid.”
BROWN: “Oh, not much. Thanks so much for meeting up with me. I’m writing an article for our student newspaper, and as one of Connecticut’s own native sons, I figured, y’know… “
ANARKY: “Hey man, I hear ya. Personally I would’ve interviewed someone that mattered, but f*ck it, we can do this, too… let’s go.”
(Anarky makes a move towards the door and opens it for the young man, who seems hesitant to enter, and then finally does.
CUTTO: The inside of the bar, which is dimly lit and filled with a variety of different types of people. The bar is about half empty. Anarky and the young man sit in a corner, the man scribbling some notes down as he takes another swig.)
BROWN: “So Anarky. You’ve been doing this for about 15 years now. What’s the highlight of your career so far?”
ANARKY: “Highlight… ?” (Smirks.) “I don’t know, man. I’ll tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t a World Title win somewhere. Some people, man… their whole careers are defined by that. But not me, man. Me, well… I don’t know.
“When I beat Ares or Stone Wolf, probably. I know that seems a little stupid, but… I don’t know. Somethin’ about those wins.
“Like… those guys, they didn’t seem beatable, y’know? They are f*cking monsters. They absolutely tore through the competition. And the came along lil’ ol’ me… six-foot-nothin’, I barely know how to wrestle… but me… I got a lotta fight. I got a lotta somethin’ they hadn’t seen. And on that night.. in that moment, everyone knew.. sh*t, man, I can’t explain.”
BROWN: “I understand, I think. You were recently booked against High Flyer and an old nemesis of yours, Copycat. You have never faced High Flyer, but you’ve faced Copycat on a number of occasions. He seems to have an advantage over you. How do you prepare for a match knowing someone has gotten the best of you in the past?”
ANARKY: “In this business, man, you gotta forget the past. Let that sh*t go. There’s enough poison here to kill a man… you don’t need to drown yourself in it, too. You lose matches. Big f*cking deal. You live to fight another day. You think I cry myself to sleep at night when I come up short?
“Nah, man, I just hit the hooker EXTRA hard that night. Leave a bruise, y’know?”
(The student’s eyes widen in horror, unsure if the wrestler is joking.)
ANARKY: “Nah, man, just f*cking with you. Listen, you think I like losing? Hell no. You think I don’t wanna put Copycat’s teeth on the curb and go all American History X on his ass? Of course I do.
“But it don’t matter. The past is dead. Only the sh*t that brought us here. Just ask him. You think his legendary career in WFW means sh*t here? Why you think he’s stuck dealing with me again? You think he likes this sh*t? Nah, man, he doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.
“As for High Flyer, well, man… I haven’t had the privilege, and in that case, there’s a sense of.. novelty, isn’t there. Something new and beautiful. I can’t say I know much about the man. He’s from NFW, which means he’s probably addicted to methamphetamines and has participated in at least four abortions, but let’s not say the devil’s name three times, lest Beau Michaels shows up, eh?”
BROWN: (Chuckling.) “Indeed. Now, tell me, you’ve spent some time with HOPE, which consists of you, The First, Shawn Hart, and Layne Winters. After spending a great amount of your time as a lone wolf, you’ve spent time with GOD, LOVE, and now HOPE. Besides your penchant for conceptually-named stables, what do you think draws you to these men?”
ANARKY: “Well, y’know, I’m a pragmatic man. In the case of GOD and LOVE, it was simply men with a similar vision of destruction and mayhem. Y’know, good, clean, fun.
“In the case of HOPE, well… let’s face it, I didn’t really have a choice, did I. The First says he can get me back into the ring, and all I gotta do is smash Cameron Cruise’s face in. That’s like offering me a cheeseburger with the condition I gotta eat the bacon on it. Hey, it’s a tough life, right?
“Truth is, man… I don’t really like most of ‘em. Shawn Hart is alright, but the guy makes so many dick jokes I’m surprised he isn’t actively f*cking dudes while I talk to him. The First is fine, except, y’know, for the whole part where he’s a f*cking maniac who thinks he’s 1,000 years old and destined to beat a guy who, let’s face it, is a significantly better wrestler than he is. And of course, you’ve got Layne, who kinda reminds me, except he’s managed to age 50 years in only what, like 27? I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s already world champ, but who f*cking knows with all the painkillers…
“Nah, man, they’re just some mother*ckers… means to an end. An opportunity. Nothing more, nothing less.”
BROWN: “So if HOPE is just a temporary bastion… a place to rest your head while you destroy Anthology… what is next for Anarky?”
ANARKY: “You mean like, do I have a plan?”
BROWN: “Yes. I mean, surely you don’t intend to just keep fighting Copycat over and over again.”
(They both laugh at this. Anarky’s eyes narrow a little and he takes a long swig off his beer before he speaks.)
ANARKY: “I’m a simple man, in many ways. I enjoy the soft moan that escapes the lips of a man struggling to his feet. The way the salty sweat drips down into his eyes, blinding him. The gentle caress of a well-timed Chaos Breaker.
“But even more than this… there is… something else. A power. The destruction of a dream. The silence of ambition. This… this is what drives me.
“Sean Stevens… he is a man with power. A man whose skill is exceeded only by his own egomania. Which is how I like it. Here is a man who has grown soft on the laurels of his defeated… and in this, he is beautiful, is he not?
“Sean has come to believe he is invincible. That he has nothing left to prove. That he is… above us all. Sean has forgotten the truths.
“Three seconds is all it takes. Three seconds to come crashing down. To be reminded that you, too, are part of the unwashed masses. That you, too, are vulnerable, are weak, are broken… that you are flawed, like us.
“I want three seconds. Three seconds to prove it only takes one. One mistake. One missed superkick. One broken dream. The mockery of a nation… the esteem of a federation… gone…
“We are all the same… dirt in the ground… dust in the wind… call it what you f*cking will, but he has forgotten… he believes he is something MORE than man… that he has evolved.
“He has not, and it would be my… privilege… to remind him.”
BROWN: “Nice. One last question. How do you like working for Dan Ryan?”
ANARKY: “Heh. Honestly? Not that bad. Him and I… we’re not so different. I mean, you look at us, and you probably think so. I mean, the dude’s f*cking huge, and he even has a nickname and everything.
“But, y’know, underneath it all, I think he’s more like me than he can admit… he sees through the sh*t. He knows these f*cking fakers… these pathetic nothings… they deserve it. He knows what lies underneath is cowardice.
“Anyway, he signs my f*ckin’ paychecks, so that’s pretty sweet.”
BROWN: “Well, I just wanted to say thanks, man, it’s been a pleasure. You’re not nearly as crazy as they make you out to be.”
ANARKY: “Step into the ring with me and you’ll whistle a different tune, I suspect.” (Smiles.)
(The student chuckles nervously and shakes Anarky’s hand. He walks out and leaves the man to his drink. FADEOUT as he stares off into the distance, taking another swig of beer, no trace of emotion on his placid face.)