Powerless
(CUE UP: Bach’s “Prelude and Fugue in C Minor”.)
(The scene opens in the same location as Promo Number One… Nathan Fear’s private art gallery in the Crimson Corporation’s high-rise office suite-slash-training center. The founder and president of Crimson Corporation himself appears pacing before the camera with a phone pressed to his ear, though gone is the smug and indignant expression in MR. NATHAN FEAR’S face. We can see creases of worry wracking his forehead as he continues a conversation with the person on the other end…)
Nathan Fear
Yes… I realize it’s a problem… and it’s not like I asked for this to happen. But he won’t budge… he insists we finish our business here in Chicago… and without him, there IS no Crimson Corporation, as we know it!
(As he pauses for a moment to listen to the response, a dark twinkle flashes in his eye.)
Nathan Fear
...interesting… hadn’t thought of that before. Maybe you’re onto something… maybe we can turn this back toward our advantage.
In any case, it looks like I’ll be stuck here in the Midwest for a little while longer… at least until this “Mass Transit” ordeal finally passes. We can talk more about it when I get back to Seattle. Just keep up your end of the deal… I WANT that building!
(He ends the call, redirecting his attention to the left. The camera follows him as he walks over to the blow-up Goya print suspended in the middle of the room. Hulking before it is the First Tsar of Red Line Wrestling and Red Crown Champion, “THE LAST TITAN” IVAN DALKICHEV, his cold eyes transfixed on the image of wide-eyed Saturn avidly cannibalizing a child’s body in striking detail.)
(Fear spies the Red Crown Championship slung over the Atlas-sized athlete’s broad shoulder, and grits his teeth with envy.)
Nathan Fear
I seriously hope that cheap strap will be worth all the trouble when all's said and done…
(No response in Ivan, continuing to study Goya’s masterpiece.)
Nathan Fear
All I’m saying is… we could be on a plane right now, flying to a city with a sold-out arena and a mile-long line of people waiting to get in. Instead, we’re wasting precious time stuck in this third-rate league, all so you can snap some stupid girl like a twig over your knee and wear a gaudy crown.
Explain to me again, what do we have to gain from this? Do you think the world will give a damn watching a four-hundred pound mountain of a man completely steamroll a woman less than half his size?
(Ivan, still facing the print, breaths in deep like mighty Vesuvius drawing in a breath.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
You look with your eyes… and believe what you see is true. But there’s more to it than just that, yes? More beneath the surface.
You look with your eyes and see a meaningless woman. But I listen with my ears… and hear the voice of a defiant usurper.
What is there to gain, you ask?
Satisfaction, Mister Fear. The satisfaction of silencing my doubters… humbling those who refused to show fear… and BREAKING any that should stand in the path of “The Last Titan”...
(Fear shakes his head in surrender.)
Nathan Fear
Sounds crazy if you ask me. You’re stomping on insects to silence a few pointless chirps.
But, do as you will… Crimson Corporation is at your whim, I’m loathed to admit. But I can at least rest easy knowing that it’s all but certain you’ll take care of business at Mass Transit. More than I could say for Stephen, unfortunately…
(The Red Crown champ scoffs.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
You speak of wasting time in Red Line… yet time is all you waste, using that man as a dog. The attacks… the secret opponent game… all distractions. All failures.
I never asked, nor needed, your meddlesome interventions in order to “take care of business”, as you say. All that was ever required… was a bit of time.
(He swivels his head over and gazes down at the disgraced manager.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
And the time is nearly upon us...
(Dalkichev slowly turns toward the camera, giving Fear a dismissive wave. Fear immediately flashes the same envious glower he gave the Red Crown Title earlier, clearly miffed at having his spokesperson duties retired. He eventually departs while muttering under his breath, leaving us with the seven-foot monster looking down on us and the equally ghastly painting behind him.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
Even after ten years of American citizenship… it seems I still have trouble understanding the many twists and turns of the English language.
And yet, perhaps that has more to do with most Americans abuse of that language. I would hear one word, and presume it means what it means… and then later, I am told that I misunderstood that word.
For example, I presumed the word “inevitability” referred to a foregone conclusion… an unavoidable outcome. But you,
kroshka... you seem to believe the word “inevitability” refers to a realization… a state of mind. One that boldly states that one to lead Red Line Wrestling is not me… but you.
(The Crimson Colossus lets out an eerie rumble as he slowly shakes his head.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
There is a term for cattle droppings that has another meaning as well… and I feel it fits your definition perfectly.
The misunderstanding seems to be on your part,
kroshka... because while you have wasted your air speaking on trivial matters of passion and who beat who, it does not seem to have occurred to you that I never once claimed I was here to lead this company.
If anything, I am here to
conquer it.
(He shifts his gaze briefly to the Red Crown Title over his shoulder, absently running his huge, sausage-sized fingers over the R - L - W engraving.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
You say I have no passion… but perhaps you simply don’t understand it as I do. Perhaps it is something that can only be understood after thirteen years in this business… and many years before that, growing up in that decaying pisshole back east.
You say you live and breathe these three letters… an admirable claim, yes. One that rallies the people wearing those letters on their shirts and hats to your side.
An empty one, all the same. The fans will not help you in that ring,
kroshka. Neither will those three letters.
There was a time long ago when I would have said I lived and breathed for another set of three letters. But over the years, companies closed their doors, and those letters kept changing… until eventually, they lost all meaning. I have seen many federations be born, live, and die in my career… and have watched many idealist and simple-minded heroes such as yourself rise and fall. The harsh lessons of time have taught me that federations come and federations go. This is yet another inevitability.
The reason I see Red Line Wrestling as “just a place to wrestle” is because that is
exactly what it is. That is what every federation has ever been.
There will inevitably come a time when, yes, even Red Line will wither and die. Whether it is at Mass Transit, or many years from now… it is bound to happen. And when it does, everything that anybody knew of the tragic fate of “The Second Coming” will just be yet another fading memory. Perhaps this is all for the better…
But
I will not fade,
kroshka. Like any
kaiju, my nature is the same as it ever was: move on to the next city… the next destination… and lay waste to everything.
(The curl in his lower lip could be an evil grin… or then again, he could be pushing something caught in his teeth with his tongue. We can’t exactly be certain he wasn’t snacking on the same thing as Saturn glaring over his shoulder.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
Ultimately, though… this isn’t about who will be remembered and who will be forgotten. This is not even about passion, or who is fit to lead the company. Regardless of whether or not you think I am fit for the role, you seem to be forgetting that
you cannot do anything about it. Because while you live and breathe for three letters, I live and breathe only to
dominate. And the difference between how we define our passions is that mine actually applies to what will happen on that canvas.
You will never see the change you wish to bring to Red Line,
kroshka… because you lack the ability to make it so. I excel you in all the important categories… strength, skill, experience… and as I have demonstrated many times with the likes of Miss Spectacular and Mister Spackler, and most recently at Slamtrack 10, this company knows well by now the extent of my destructive rage.
But perhaps most important of all advantages, there is my preparation… physically and mentally. Because ever since the night I won this title, I have spent every day putting all of my focus and preparation toward
this match... this next battle.
(He gazes down briefly into his quaking palms.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
Whether it was all the days put into building myself into a seven-foot tall living machine of destruction, or all the hours I sat and watched your matches… your speeches… every moment I lived and breathed since Rush Hour has been dedicated to the domination and demise of the number one contender to my title.
You pride yourself on spending that time “tearing it up” with a buffoon in a koala mask… but from my perspective, you have only foolishly indulged in distractions. Small, hollow victories to give you a sense of pride. Empty victories that put a heavy toll on your body…
All for the sake of crowing over three interchangeable letters.
And my own pointless meanderings with El Habanero and Eric Dane… simply the fulfillment of contract obligations. But otherwise, diversions… because even when I was in the ring on those occasions, my mind was was still on the match that waited at the end… the true inevitability.
Perhaps that would explain my shortcoming against Dane. Perhaps my mind wasn’t focused enough on looking strong against an aging wrestling legend looking for another fifteen minutes of fame. Perhaps I didn’t care enough, because I didn’t feel a TSAR should be treated like the company welcome mat in an effort to draw ratings and make money.
Perhaps I was too busy looking ahead… looking toward the opportunity to make a
real statement by crushing this federation’s poster-child beneath my massive feet.
Or, who knows... perhaps it had something to do with
that very person unexpectedly being there at ringside at a very pivotal moment.
(Massive shoulders shrug. His muscles ripple like tiny avalanches across a fleshy mountain range.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
It makes no difference how it happened… I don’t dwell on the outcomes of matches that had no meaning to begin with. A day will come when I will even the score with Dane… but for now, my mind only dwells on the match that matters… the one that awaits us at Mass Transit.
More than simply champion versus contender… but my first true opportunity to remind this company of just
who carries the title, and what I am fully capable of. I will overpower you in that ring, as I have overpowered all of Red Line Wrestling since my first day. And those fans… those people you claim to live and breathe for… like you, they will understand the true meaning of
futility and
heartbreak.
It matters not if you think I am the man to stand at the top of this company... Red Line will ALWAYS quiver beneath the shadow of “The Last Titan”, until somebody comes around who is strong enough to stop me. And you are not that person,
kroshka. Simply naming yourself such and backing up that claim by pointing to empty accomplishments does not make it so.
(He unslings the belt from his shoulder, and holds it before the camera. His massive hands tremble and knuckles turn white as his fingers dig into the metal and gold. Over the plate, we can see his blue eyes narrowing into daggers of hate and destruction… and his voice becomes an angry growl.)
“The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev
Only true STRENGTH and POWER will take this title from my hands can… you have done and said nothing to convince me you are anything but powerless.
What is “The Second Coming”?
From what I’ve seen, nothing more than second in line.
And ALL who stand in that line, will be broken.
Do svidaniya in advance, little
kroshka. I will not miss you...
(Fade to RED!!)
