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The Scarecrow


Where's my money, Chad?
Jul 3, 1997
The Silk Road
(FADEIN on a den, dimly lit by a flickering light off-camera. Hung up on the brown wall panels are photos of a famous wrestler holding title belts in the ring, shaking hands with important people, and posing with large groups of people. There are also event posters including a big blue and white one from an organization long forgotten - "The SCARECROW v. SHANE SOUTHERN!" We also see gold and silver title belts mounted on the wall, and as the camera creeps left a large fireplace and mantle with family pictures on top comes into view. The camera stops at a man seated in a large armchair next to a small table. He is an older gentleman, late 40s or early 50s perhaps, but looks even older. He's wearing a black blazer over a maroon turtleneck tucked into light blue jeans. His hair is long, black with gray strands, and badly thinning. To hide his balding head on top, he wears a black Atlanta Falcons cap. This man is named STAN VICK, and he is a wrestling legend from a generation past. Stan reaches over to the plate on the table, rips off a piece of egg white from his breakfast, and stuffs it into his mouth. A piece of it gets caught in his salt and pepper goatee, but he quickly brushes it off)

VICK: "My name is Stan Vick, and you probably don’t remember me. Many years ago, I was a star in some of the top wrestling organizations on the planet. But I do not matter in the current landscape. There is a man that does matter very much in New Frontier Wrestling, and I trained him. Molded him into what you see today. His name is Castor Strife, and that’s why I’m talking to you now.”

(Fire cracks; Stan pokes at it)

VICK: “You see, I live comfortably on the money I’ve made. I’m not a rich man, but I never expected riches for all the wars I fought, or the kids I trained. I was brought up in this business on the virtues of saving money, and passing on those lessons learned.”

(Raises finger)

VICK: “Passing those lessons on! I trained THE Castor Strife! World Champion, Ultratitle Champion, and all the accolades...you know them by now. When you see him drive a man’s neck into the canvas with such force that he breaks the vertebrae, well, who do you think taught him that?”

“I still have a gym today. And you ask me, am I a bitter man that Castor Strife doesn’t stop by the gym, lend his name to my operation, talk to the young men I teach in the present day, and so forth? (shakes head) No, that doesn’t bother me. Castor doesn’t owe me a goddamn thing.”

“I can make a living without his face and accolades on my wall. The only proof I ever trained the man are pictures of us in the ring, videos, but those are all locked away in drawers and forgotten about. The man went his own way, and I went mine.”

(Rips another egg-white off and drops it in his mouth)

VICK: “BUT...when I see a young man like Alex Austin come to you, Castor Strife, with not a dime in his pocket, asking for guidance, and you bring him along until its no longer convenient for you. And when I see that girl Lucky Seven prying her way into a cage to help you, while you allow her to be mistreated on other occasions...or how you took Legion under your wing only to abandon him when he needed you...that doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Castor Strife does not respect this BUSINESS. He renders my work meaningless when he betrays his disciples repeatedly in the name of self-interest. And that’s when I take offense.”

“How many people can you betray, you lying, back-stabbing piece of shit, before one of them turns the knife on you?”

“Well let me tell you something that you already know! That day HAS come! There IS a man who decided to call your debts! He looks like you. Speaks like you. Wears a MASK like you. He even moves and HITS like you! His name is STRYFE with a ‘Y’, you motherfucker, and I TRAINED HIM MYSELF!”

(Large cough; the fireplace cracks again)

VICK: “There is a moment in the novel ‘Frankenstein’, when Victor looks at the Monster with such horror, that he could create such ugliness in this world, and abandons him. And the Monster haunts Victor to the ends of the earth until Victor agrees to make him a companion. So Victor stays up all night, creating another monster, and just as he’s ready to complete his work, he looks upon this second monster and revolts at the thought of what havoc two of these beasts could reap upon the world. That’s when he stops work on the new monster, and chooses to face the old one himself. And he pays with his life.”

“Well, I was at a similar junction. But where Victor went left, I swerved right! I MADE THAT SECOND MONSTER! And I made him every bit as vicious as you, Castor. And you ARE vicious, there’s no doubt about it. You are a sick, twisted, sadistic man, just like I was. But I respect THIS business! I don’t take kindly to people pissing on my head, so Castor, I made this Monster called Stryfe a sick twisted, sadistic piece of shit just like you, too.”

“He is re-made! No longer the shell he once was, living in regret and apathy. He says you killed his career, and I believe him because I’ve seen you do the same to many others.”

(Rests arm on the chair, rubs his temple)

VICK: “There’s one more life you destroyed, Castor, and it’s the one that ultimately convinced me to train Mr. Stryfe. There is a young man who sought you out against my advice, because he looked up to you. He was my son, Shane Vick. Like you, he battled substance abuse, and using you as the model of success he was able to kick the habit and re-start his career. Shane left home to travel out to Hollywood and train with you. Said he was going to be a World Champion and a MOVIE STAR! Now I didn’t raise my son to wanna be no fuckin’ movie star, but try and convince a man when he’s got an idea in his head! You can’t.”

“One year later, and Shane is now living in some Los Angeles slum, hooked on drugs AGAIN, in debt for thousands of dollars to YOU! He ain’t a movie star! He send out those head shots, never gets a call back! And no promoter will book him for matches, either. On top of all that, he’s a SEXUAL PERVERT! Did you teach him that, you sick fuck? I bet you did. I bet.”

(Clears throat)

VICK: “Stryfe with ‘Y’ is my son now. I love him like he’s my own blood. And I started feeling bad about what I’d put in his head to do to you, not for your sake but for his! I didn’t want him going into that cage with you. And I tried convincing him not to meet you in this Chicago Street Fight. The man is dangerous, but I don’t know if he’s dangerous like you. I don’t know that the man craves blood and guts the way you do, or takes pleasure in destroying people’s lives...like you do. What he has, is a determination. A DRIVE. An inability to stop. He has these qualities even more than you, Castor.”

“You may find a way to victory again, but I know that Stryfe will not stop moving forward until you are gone from this industry. It might even destroy you both, and I warned him of that.”

(Shakes head)

VICK: “He won’t speak to me now. That’s TWO sons you’ve cost me! And it’s too late for an old man to have regrets. What’s done is done. I sent him to destroy you, and there is no talking him down.”

“For the viewer watching at home, I sincerely hope you are not a fan of Castor Strife. Because my son, Stryfe with a ‘Y’, is going to kill that man inside a ring. Sooner...or later.”

“Enjoy your evening.”


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