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Never Forget

RStrawsma

Strawbot
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
1,512
Points
36
Age
40
Location
Indiana
(Fade in on an exterior shot of a prison by the sea. It’s midday, and exceptionally hot… in a state that’s already suffering from a drought.)

SAN QUENTIN STATE PRISON, CALIFORNIA

(Cut to Inside, within one of the cells. The SINGLE MALE OCCUPANT is in the process of doing a rep of pull-ups, Sarah Connor-style, clad in only the navy slacks of his prison-issued uniform. We can see that he is bald, brown-skinned, and cut, but his back is to us, keeping his identity hidden. Eschewing the stereotypes of most inmates, his upper torso doesn’t show any scars or tattoos… in fact, its remarkably untouched. He lifts his chin over the bar spanning the six-foot width of his cell in repetitive, robotic motions, barely making a sound as he draws in one quiet breath after another. His work-out seems more like a religious exercise than a physical practice.)

(From deeper within the prison, the barred-gate separating the cell block slides open. Two guards and the forty-something WARDEN in a chocolate brown suit proceed down the aisle, ignoring taunts from the other inmates as they pass by the rows of cells. They finally arrive outside the cell belonging to our guy doing pull-ups. The warden taps the bars to get his attention.)

Warden
Hey there, friend… your lucky day has finally arrived.

(The prisoner drops from the bar. He stands silent and stoic… not turning around.)

Warden
HELLOOO?! Do you habla any English in there?! I said your time is up!

(The prisoner grabs his shirt and buttons up, getting himself ready. He still does not turn around.)

Prisoner

No… my time is only just beginning.

(Rolling his eyes, the warden motions to one of the guards to open the cell door…)

(A few moments later, as the guards lead the prisoner back down the aisle… on the way toward freedom.)

(We go to the checkout desk, as a CLERK returns the items that were brought with him when he began his sentence. He reads them out loud one at a time as he sets them out on the desk before the prisoner.)

Clerk

One yellow silk robe… one pair of yellow vinyl athletic slacks… one pair of yellow athletic boots… two yellow wristbands… and one mask… also yellow.

(The last item is a lemon-colored LUCHADORE MASK, made to fit over the entire head. It lacks the usual holes for eyes and mouth… instead bearing a BLACK SPIRAL over the face. The prisoner picks it up and runs a finger over the spiral’s outer arc… longing for something he lost long ago. Something he likely wants back.)

(FLASH to the hallway leading out, as the prisoner walks unescorted to the double-doors leading out of San Quentin. He pushes them open, and bright sunlight washes out the shot as he steps outside and breaths the air of freedom… and then we wash out to plain white.)


* * *​

(Fading in from nothing, we come upon a pair of brown eyes that slowly blink open. They look bleary and glazed as they roll around in an attempt to see the surroundings…)

(In his POV, through a blurry fog, we can see LIGHTS hanging overhead… and the hulking figure of a large man, arms raised triumphantly in the air. Through the haze of washed out noise, we can eventually hear the sound of cheering fans… and something else, a bit louder and more direct…)


*DING!-DING!-DING!*

(Back to the eyes, as the camera zooms out to reveal a LUCHADOR lying flat on the canvas of a wrestling ring, looking like he’d just been rolled over by a Mack truck. We can tell, even with the mask on, he’s an exceptionally ragged and ugly fellow, with a thick mane of brown hair with a matching beard protruding from the mask’s mouth opening. He’s white, pasty, and heavily tattooed across his shoulders and arms, wearing only a black set of slacks and wristbands. The mask itself is red and black, and comes fitted with a pair of elastic GOAT HORNS on the top.)

(As the resounding sound of the victory bells dies off and heavy metal music can be heard buzzing through a rather cheap PA system, a ring announcer’s voice can be heard…)


“The winner of the match… ‘THE VIKING VIOLATOR’... OOOLLLVVVIIIIIRRR AAAAAARRRRSSSVVIINNNNAARRRR!!!”

(The winner of the match is a nearly seven feet tall Nordic superman, complemented by a massive golden beard. Turning himself around with his arms raised, he laughs boisterously in triumph.)

(Cut to a much wider shot of the scene, showing the match taking place in a rather small rec center. There are maybe fifty to a hundred people in attendance, mostly sitting in folding chairs. Despite the small numbers, most of them are on their feet, cheering on the Viking standing tall in the ring. The apron around the ring is tagged with decals that read “D.V.W.A.”)


TEMPE, ARIZONA… TWO DAYS LATER

(Groaning as he comes to the rest of the way, the goat-masked luchador rolls himself over and slips out of the ring, looking defeated and dejected. He walks with slumped shoulders and a darkened expression as he makes a mostly unnoticed exit back to the curtain leading backstage. Mostly unnoticed… except for one fan who opts to toss what’s left of his cup of Coke into the side of the luchador’s head.)

Fan

YOU SUCK, El Cabrón!

(Muttering in disdain, EL CABRÓN can only retaliate with a sour glance, before shambling the rest of the way to the back...)

(A short while later, in the locker room. The luchador now sits alone on a bench, mask off and sitting next to him. Silently, he stares into the space ahead of him, wearing the most embittered and annoyed look on his exposed face. Behind him, a cheap poster hangs on the wall reading “COMING in OCTOBER… DEATH VALLEY WRESTLING ASSOCIATION PRESENTS: DESERT STORM!! Featuring… OLVIR VS. MAGNUS II for the DEATH VALLEY HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” Below the bold lettering shows a face-off between the Viking in the ring earlier and a monster heel wrestler with black and white face-paint who looks like he belongs in a black metal band.)


“Erik Black?”

(The maskless luchador pops to his feet and holds up a hand.)

Erik Black

Yo.

(An OFFICIAL approaches and hands over a manilla envelope.)

Official

Here’s your pay-out.

(“THE ESCAPE ARTIST” ERIK BLACK, no relation to Pat or Rook, hastily takes the envelop and opens it up. Whatever he sees inside causes him to grimace.)

Erik Black

Shit… I could SMOKE through this in less than a week!

(The official looks him over a bit closer, scratching his chin.)

Official

Say, you look kind of familiar… haven’t I seen you from somewhere else?

(Black nods casually and puts on a warm half-grin, acting as if he gets asked this all the time.)

Erik Black

Heh, heh, I know what you’re thinking…

You’re thinking, “Could this be none other than HE? None other than “THE ESCAPE ARTIST” Erik Black? The ol’ GOAT BASTARD? The Daredevil of DOPESMOKERY?”

And yes, sir, you’d be correct to think that… because that’s just who I am.

Official
...no, no, I don’t know anything about that “goat-smoking” crap. I was just wondering if you were the guy that worked at the Taco Bell down the block.

(Black looks flabberghasted.)

Erik Black

Seriously? You have NO idea who I am?

(The official shrugs apathetically.)

Erik Black

C’mon, dude… I spent YEARS wrestling for well-established promotions across the planet! I was on TELEVISION all the time! I mean, I was a dambed CHAMPION! A friggin’ LEGEND!”

Official
Yeah, well… now you’re here. Tough break, pal.

(The official moves on to hand out the other envelopes in his hand… leaving Black to stand in stunned silence as he’s left to once again digest the reality that everything he’s ever worked for in a twelve year career has meant virtually nothing. Then his shoulders slump and his day gets worse as an extremely loud laugh fills the locker room…)

“HA HA HA HA!!”

(The towering OLVIR ARSVINNAR strides in, chest-pumping and beaming proudly.)

Olvir Arsvinnar

ERIK THE BLACK!! A MOST well-fought match!

Erik Black
Sure, Olvir… well-fought. And thanks for the helping hand when I got my head stuck between the ropes. That boot to the ass fixed the problem in no time. Not to say I wouldn’t have minded strangling myself to death, but I guess I appreciate the gesture.

Olvir Arsvinnar
I do hope that I did not KNOCK ANYTHING LOOSE when my glorious FISTS found their way into your face!

Erik Black
...nah. Nothing loose that wasn’t loose already.

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA!! You fought most valiantly… but even YOU must realize by now that NONE can overcome the MIGHT of the GREAT OLVIR!

Erik Black
...dude, you do realize that this place pays me to LOSE to you, right?

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA HA HA HA!! Certainly, you are YOKING!!

Erik Black
...you meant to say ‘joking’, right? And no, I’m not. You’re the company darling, Olvir… they need me, to make you look good, to keep the fans coming back.

(The Norseman gives him a hearty pat on the back with enough force that it nearly knocks him over. Erik looks severely annoyed as he rights himself up.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
THERE NOW, Erik! There is NO NEED to make petty excuses for your MOST OBVIOUS of enfeeblement! But still, I admire your WARRIOR’S COURAGE!! There are FEW who could muster the nerve to stand in the ring with the GREAT OLVIR!

(Black rolls his eyes.)

Erik Black

Sure, whatever you say, Olvir…

(Olvir’s attention is drawn to the POSTER hanging on the wall behind them, and he SNARLS with bestial fury.)

Olvir Arsvinnar

YUST YOU WAIT, MAGNUS DESTRUCTO!! The GREAT OLVIR is on his way toward GLORIOUS TRIUMPH! HA HA HA HAAA!!!

(Olvir Arsvinnar marches further into the locker room, brushing by Black and nearly knocking him over again. Black shakes his head in contempt and falls back onto the bench, pulling up a small carry-on bag to pack up so he can get the hell out of there.)

(He’s in the process of folding up a long black jacket, when another figures SHADOW falls over him.)


“So… this is how you’ve been keeping yourself busy.”

Erik Black
Fuck… what is it NOW?!

(Impatiently, he looks up to see who is hovering over him… and his eyes pop open wide in SHOCK. It hits him so hard, he falls off the bench and lands on his ass… but his eyes never leave)

Erik Black

...REY AMARILLO...

(Looking down at him is the prisoner, pulling back the hood of his yellow robe to reveal his identity, and for the first time we can see his face -- his TRUE face -- a black spiral spread over a yellow mask.)

Rey Amarillo

Hello, old friend…

(Black scrambles back to his feet, while the luchador in yellow picks up the goat mask and holds it out to his former associate. Erik looks at it in disbelief.)

Rey Amarillo

...it’s time for us to get back to work.

(FADETOBLACK.)

* * *​

(When we fade in again, the view is set on the front seat of a car, cruising down a bare strip of highway. Far off along the horizon, the sun is beginning to set. Behind the wheel sits Black, once again bearing the mask of EL CABRÓN. His attention on the road ahead is continually drawn toward the passenger seated next to him. REY AMARILLO sits in silence, the black spiral of a face set on the passing scenery. After an awkward moment, Cabrón clears his throat…)

El Cabrón

...where are we headed, anyway?

Rey Amarillo
Dallas.

El Cabrón
Ugh, Texas… I HATE Texas…

Well, what’s waiting for us in Dallas?

Rey Amarillo
Work… for NFW.

(El Cabrón perks an eyebrow.)

El Cabrón

New Frontier, huh? Pretty big deal. How in the hell did you find work with New freakin’ Frontier Wrestling?

Rey Amarillo
Found some connections to Eddie Mayfield… in the place I was staying.

El Cabrón
Yeah, about that… been a long time, huh? Twelve years, or something like that?

Rey Amarillo
And four months.

El Cabrón
Damb, how time flies when you’re getting stoned…

Last I remembered, you and I were on the West Coast, looking to break into the Japan leagues… then you just up and vanished one day. Poof… without a trace.

(Cabrón glances at his old friend, looking for some kind of reaction.)

El Cabrón

Some said you went down south and started working the underground pit-fighting markets… real Ku-mi-te-type shit, for hardcore types only. Then I heard from a few guys that you were abducted by aliens… or maybe that you WERE an alien originally, which explained how you were able to defy the laws of gravity with your amazing badass hangtime.

But of course… most of us just thought you were plain DEAD in a ditch somewhere.

(Amarillo continues to stare out the window.)

El Cabrón

I mean… given you kinda left me, a dumb eighteen year old kid, high and dry in fucking CALIFORNIA of all places, with absolutely nothing of value except for this MASK and a plane ticket to Osaka… don’t you think you owe me some sort of explanation here?

Rey Amarillo
...these past twelve years, I was… reflecting.

(Cabrón’s eyes roll through the holes in his mask.)

El Cabrón

Ah, I get it now… so you were in a Buddhist monastery this whole time! That makes sense.

(Amarillo shakes his head.)

Rey Amarillo

Look, I refuse to get into the details… because none it is important. All I can say is that it was necessary for me for that time. But now I’m back.

And you? How have you spent these last twelve years? Heard you finally broke into the big leagues...

(The Goat Bastard cheeses a grin.)

El Cabrón

Heh heh… you’ve heard right! And you shouldn’t worry… because your best student has done you proud!

Rey Amarillo
Oh yes, I’ve heard plenty about it… smoking bongloads at ringside, continuously making an ass out of yourself, not caring whether or not you won or lost. For over a decade, you had the opportunity of a lifetime staring you right in the face. You had all the skills necessary at your disposal to become something truly exceptional… and rather than do something productive with all that, you squandered those years embracing the archetype of a fool.

(Cabrón shrugs, though not without a hint of self-resentment.)

El Cabrón

Yeah… well… that’s where life gets you when you grow up without positive role models, I guess.
If I’d known better, maybe I would have done something about it… before I fucked everything up. But if a mess is what I’m dealt with for a life, then fuck… I’m going to make the best of it! The world NEEDS fools, if you ask me!

Rey Amarillo
Fools are a dime a dozen in this industry, Erik. You aren’t anything special.

El Cabrón
Hey now… EYE’M not just your dime a dozen jobber, Rey! I make that shit look GOOD! Some guys take a boot to the face and hit the mat like a sack of bricks! But me? I take a boot to the face and I hit the mat like a sack of DYNAMITE! And GLITTER! And ICECREAM!

And you know, for a minute there, I really thought I hit on something good! I had a TEE-VEE Championship in one hand and a NICE piece of MILF ass in the other!

Rey Amarillo
But all of that’s gone now… and only you will remember it.

But I assure you, Erik… you can still give the people something to remember…

El Cabrón
Oh yeah, how’s that?

Rey Amarillo
By helping me.

The rest of the world may see you as a joke… and maybe even you are naive enough to believe that… but I KNOW there’s more to you than that, Erik Black. You’ve had trouble showing it for your entire career… but if you put your trust into me, then I will guide you back on the right path.

Together, we can ensure that the people NEVER forget LOS OLVIDADOS…

(The Goat Bastard gives his yellow-clad counterpart a skeptical glance… and shrugs off his reservations.)

El Cabrón

Eh… guess I got nothing else halfway interesting going on at the moment.

LOS OLVIDADOS, man... let's make this shit happen!

...heh heh, when they finally see what YOU ARE... man, you are really going to fuck some worlds up!

(He laughs dryly as the car continues east toward Dallas… and finally, we fade out to black.)
 

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