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Post by Mike Hawk on Oct 4, 2021 16:12:23 GMT -5
*Somewhere over the rainbow, there’s a land that you might have heard of once in a lullaby. That place is the yellow-brick road! An overtly-colourful landscape awaits in the background, a city of emerald. Some little people sing as a grown-ass man dressed as Dorothy Gale skips on the path. This man, of course, is “The President of Pro Wrestling” Mike Hawk. He’s wearing the whole getup, blue dress, ruby slippers, and even the brown, pigtailed wig. He’s carrying a stuffed dog, which he’s put googly eyes onto because of course he has, and he looks around at his surroundings. He sees, among other things, a VERY goth-looking scarecrow. Played by him as well, of course, in his “Edwin Mo” persona, including the fringe and the far-too-white make-up.*
Mike Hawk: Wow! A scarecrow!
Edwin Mo: Yep.
*There’s an awkward silence.*
Mike: …Are you missing anythi-
E. Mo: A soul.
Mike: Well, what would you do with a soul if you had one?
E. Mo: What would I do? Well, I’d…
*Some music starts, to the tune of “If I Only Had a Brain”. Mr. Mo steps down from the perch he was on.*
E. Mo: I would kill this crooked roster, send their children to a foster, and whack them like a mole…
*A small little musical interlude plays as he does a little twirl.*
E. Mo: I’d go through a mental crisis, and get help from Dionysus, if I only had a soul!
*He jumps onto the yellow brick road, doing a cartwheel for no real reason as he continues singing.*
E. Mo: How my violence would be steady, as I brandish a machete, which is somehow my goal…
*He does a flip.*
E. Mo: I’d insinuate Athena, and throw you off the arena, if I only had a soul!
*He grabs Hawk and dances next to him like a cancan dancer, with a lot of high kicking and also high punching, which is not something cancan dancers do, but it something he’s doing, so deal with it.*
E. Mo: I’m the kind of guy…
*He trips and falls, but stands up soon after.*
E. Mo: To hit you with a mace! And afterwards I’d call you a disgrace.
*He starts punching and kicking the air.*
E. Mo: And then I’d kick!
*He kicks the air.*
E. Mo: And punch your face!
*He punches the air.*
E. Mo: I would never stop attacking, for violence we are lacking…
*He pulls out a box cutter and starts stabbing in front of himself at the air.*
E. Mo: So I would fill the role.
*He quickly puts the box cutter away and does a front roll.*
E. Mo: I would rip you all to pieces, with the help of Anti-thesis…
*Aunty Thesis, a character also played by Hawk, walks into frame with a walker. E. Mo grabs her and throws her violently off-screen. She screams.*
E. Mo: If I only had a soul…
*He does a little dance, even doing the Charleston at one point, before the music finally stops and he and Hawk look directly at the camera. The camera pans over to show a man standing behind a counter with a nametag that says “Franklin”.*
Franklin: Sir, this is a Wendy’s.
Mike: YOU’RE a Wendy’s!
Franklin: I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.
Mike: …Yeah, that’s fair.
*He leaves. The others, being him, also leave, but also having just been special effects. He’s stripped off the Dorothy costume and is now in a black T-shirt that says “Nosferatu” on it in white letters with a red blood-stained effect, as well as blue jeans and white running shoes. He walks out of the Wendy’s and into the large, sprawling mall that it’s a part of. It’s very crowded, and he’s on the second floor. White floors below, white walls in between the stores, guard rails to make sure it’s idiot-proof, the whole shebang. Or at least, like, a third of a shebang. Maybe half of one, if you're lucky.*
Mike: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…
*A little boy walks over.*
Little Boy: Yes papa?
*Hawk pokes the boy in the eyes and he runs away screaming and clutching his face.*
Mike: Now then… Mr. Sanders… despite what your chicken-loving great-grandfather has said, even 11 herbs and spices won’t be able to cover what I’m going to do to you tonight. The bloodshed will be plentiful and the violence will be…
*He pauses for a moment to think.*
Mike: …Plentiful. I couldn’t think of a synonym. But you know what I CAN think of?
*He starts walking over to a coffee shop in the same food court.*
Mike: I can think of all the screaming Mike Hawk fans who can’t wait to see their beloved president kick you in the face and ass and body and leg and other leg and arm and face… wait, I already said face.
*He gets in line for the shop behind a bunch of fuckin’ millennials and waits for a moment before approaching the counter.*
Mike: I’ll have a double caramel mocha, hold the caramel, hold the mocha.
Worker: Um, beg pardon?
Mike: Coffee.
Worker: Yes, sir.
*He turns back to the camera.*
Mike: So, listen, Jonathan Q. Sadnuts XVI, your backstory’s a tragic one. I get that. Your daddy beat you into submission and so you’re doing your best impression of him in all your matches. I get that. But that doesn’t mean you’re not also a fucking asshole, and it doesn’t make you any better than any chump, chumpette, chumperoo or chumperino on this roster.
*He gets his coffee and takes a sip, deciding he doesn’t like it, throwing it in someone’s face and walking away, the person screaming and clutching their face as well.*
Mike: And in fact, let’s take a look at who we’ve both won against, shall we? Out of the two people you’ve lost to, one is Tayler Parks, who I beat so badly she quit the fucking company. And really, what IS “beating”? The internet, the only reliable source for anything, defines it as “a punishment or assault in which the victim is hit repeatedly”. So I’d say it’s something you’re quite used to, isn’t it, Johnny?
*He smirks, walking towards a burger joint, grabbing the meal someone else had ordered and is now on the counter and smacking a random person with the burger, causing them to get lettuce on their shirt and fall over.*
Mike: Also, from what I’ve heard, your childhood must have been an awful lot like Ancient Greece, because like Ancient Greece, you never shut the fuck up about it.
*Hawk chuckles to himself, grabbing someone’s drink and taking a sip of it, before throwing it in the trash. He walks up to a little boy with an ice cream cone, pushing it into the boy’s face, the soft-serve slowly dripping down his chin, before walking away again.*
Mike: Though, getting away from the topic of domestic abuse for a second, because… god damn… you’re crazy, Pale-y Ray Cyrus, but are you crazy enough to take on the guy who won the most important non-title prize in this company and then put googly eyes on it? Well!? Are you!?
*He waits for a second.*
Mike: …Oh right, you’re not here to answer.
*He walks up to a KFC, grabbing a guy and throwing him over the counter, eliciting a scream from the very confused man. Hawk grabs a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of mustard, before being approached by a man in a suit with ‘Jerry’ written on his nametag.*
Jerry: Excuse me, sir, you’re being very disruptive, and I’m going to have to…
*Hawk squirts ketchup and mustard all over the man’s nice suit in silence while making direct eye contact. He keeps going until the bottles are empty, then grabs 2 more and uses them up entirely as well, the man getting more and more bewildered and angry as he keeps squirting. Finally he stops, because the bottles are empty.*
Mike: No.
*He drops the empty ketchup and mustard containers on the ground and walks away from the food court, approaching a Hot Topic.*
Mike: Ahh, Hot Topic… quite fitting, isn’t it? You’re probably pretty familiar with hot topic, aren’t you, The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Hit You With a Baseball Bat? It’s your entire fuckin’ wardrobe. The spiked gauntlets, the t-shirts with bands on them that nobody’s ever heard of, the black jeans, the belt to eventually follow in daddy’s footsteps…
*He walks inside, pulling one of the shelves in the room down on top of some poor shmoe.*
Mike: While I’m here, let’s discuss the elephant in the room. A lot of people have said that I’m scared of Jonathan Sanders, and that I lash out when I’m scared…
*He punches a random guy in the face.*
Random Guy: FUCK!
Mike: Oh, get over it, you pussy!
*The man clutches his face. Hawk stares into the camera.*
Mike: And am I? Do I let the fear of The Horseless Headless Horseman get to me!?
*He grabs a shirt, putting it over some guy’s head and arms, trapping him in the shirt, and kicks him, making him stumble backwards and crash into a display, the display falling on top of him, covering him in jeans.*
Mike: …Not at all.
*He goes to one of the racks, taking another one of the shirts off the hook.*
Mike: Does this come in anything but black?
Cashier: Sir, that’s not how this works.
Mike: Didn’t think so.
*He grabs the rack and violently tosses it over, sending it careening to the ground, knocking someone who was on the other side of it backwards into another person, them landing on top of each other.*
Mike: So anyway…
*The cashier walks over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. Mike turns around to face him.*
Cashier: Sir, if you don’t stop, I’m…
*Mike has grabbed him, and as he’s talking Hawk’s already been walking him to the front of the store, where he tosses him casually through the big glass store window. He steps out of the store, through the shattered window with an unconscious cashier in it, and sees a display with a sign outside a video game store. He walks over to it and steps inside the store, taking the disc-based games individually off the shelf and opening the cases, snapping the discs in half and putting them back in the case, closing each one up again.*
Mike: Listen, Scott Bakula, American Dracula, you say you’re the “horseman of plaque”, here to bring gingivitis to us all, or whatever the fuck, but seriously? Nobody cares. Literally nobody could give even 1/78th of a shit about that. Because unlike you, the other people on this roster actually care about wrestling. Unlike you, we don’t actively say that we’re a virus, poisoning the very roster that we’re on. You… you do realize you’re under contract, right? Like, you work for the company you’re trying to destroy? You get that, right?
*He notices a TV that’s on display, and a person up on a ladder fixing it. He gets on the other side of the ladder, pulling out an inexplicable screwdriver and unhooking the TV from the ceiling. The worker looks panicked as he tries to keep the TV up.*
Worker: No, no, no, NO, NO, NO!!!
*The TV falls on top of him as he falls off the ladder, crashing into the carpeted floor which caves in, sparks flying out and catching the carpet on fire. As that happens, Hawk climbs back down the ladder, which then also falls on top of the man and catches on fire.*
Mike: Wow, you really oughta fix that TV.
*The man twitches. Hawk walks over to the display and pulls it apart, grabbing the letter ‘P’ from the sign next to the display and throwing it off-camera.*
Man: Ow, my eye! I’m not supposed to get P in it!
*Hawk continues dismantling the sign, grabbing one of the little poles from it. He walks out and walks to one of the escalators, which currently has a lot of people on it. He jams the pole into the crevasse at the top of the escalator, causing it to suddenly stop, making the people all fall and trip over each other, one even tumbling comically down the stairs. Hawk takes the pole out, making the escalator start up again, the people left on it now struggling to try and stand up against the force of the up escalator, screaming things like “Oh dear god”, “I’m gonna vomit”, and “Who would do this!?”.*
Mike: And let’s talk about titles, now that I’ve mentioned it… you say you don’t even want your title. A trinket, you’ve called it. Just another useless object that shows how meaningless meaningfulness is, how we're all just a bunch of skin-puppets in Lucifer presents Pinocchio, or whatever the fuck, nobody cares. But, listen, if you truly didn’t care about that title, you wouldn’t have challenged for it. Clearly you care about it, at least a little. Like what most people think of Arby’s. It’s… I mean, it’s there.
*He pauses, a scream of "Make it stop!" coming from the escalator.*
Mike: And some people might think, “But Mike, you can’t wrestle Bat Johnson the Wonder-Horse, he’ll kill you!” And to those people, I say…
*He grabs a random guy and throws the shrieking man off of the second-floor balcony to the floor below. There's an audible crash.*
Mike: …Boy, I hope there was someone down there to catch him.
*A voice comes from below.*
Guy: OH MY GOD, HE’S DEAD!
Mike: Zoinks!
*He runs in the opposite direction. The voice continues.*
Guy: Oh, wait, no, he’s breathing. He’s alive! Thank god!
Guy 2: OH GOD, MY KNEES AND ANKLES! I AM IN HORRIBLE PAIN!
Guy: Joey, what happened!?
Guy 2: THERE’S A MANIAC ON THE SECOND FLOOR!
*With this, Mike pivots in place, turning to take the escalator down to the first floor.*
Mike: And, Morose Gus, you might have thrown Cleo Phillips off a roof, brought a machete to the ring, thrown yourself into a light fixture, gone through multiple stacked tables, hit people with things covered in barbed wire…
*He gets to the bottom floor and steps off the escalator.*
Mike: …I don’t remember where I was going with that. But my point remains… don’t think I can’t hang with the big boys! I’m not as soft as you think I am. Mike Hawk is hard! Mike Hawk is harder than you could EVER imagine! And once I walk away with that gold, Mike Hawk will be harder than ever before! Mike Hawk does not go soft! Mike Hawk is hard for FAR longer than 4 hours at a time!
*He walks over to a large open area of the mall, complete with a glass section of ceiling and a beautiful fountain, and starts to get some ideas, before walking towards a general home and garden store.*
Mike: So, if you really think you can stand up to me, you 4-foot-nothing emo fuckstick, just know… you can’t. Don’t even try. If you try to square up to Mike Hawk, you won’t succeed! A lot of people have learned that the hard way. Richard Rider, Spuds Guzzman… um… that other guy… y’know, the guy! Has a face? Wears clothes? Yeah, that guy. You know who I mean.
*He walks into the store and smiles, looking around at all the interesting kitsch thingamajigs. Soon Hawk walks up to a display full of Roombas and takes them all out of the box, lining them all up in a row.*
Mike: Meanwhile, who did you beat? Some unknown bitch, what's her name? Dark Sienna Kills Yams? And some team calling themselves The 1%, or some shit. Your record is tainted. TAINTED, I tell you! Plagued by losses! Meanwhile, mine is untarnished by such lowly things... but don't look it up. It's, that's pivotal for this whole thing, that you don't look up my win-loss record, because the internet lies!
*Smirking, Hawk sets up all the Roombas, putting batteries in them, and releases the robotic menaces all at once. They start chasing people around the store, and many of them get out of the store and zip seamlessly around the mall, confusing and scaring patrons all around, some of whom get tripped by the roombas and fall to the ground, sometimes onto something hard, knocking them unconscious.*
Mike: Ha! Losers.
*Some guy's running away from a roomba, and Mike holds his leg out, causing the man to trip and fall face-first into the fountain, thrasshing around and splashing a little bit and coming out soaking wet. He runs at Hawk but he own wet shoes cause him to trip and fall to the ground. Hawk kicks him and he twitches.*
Mike: Wow, that worked better than even I expected.
*He walks towards a pet store.*
Mike: And, Jonathan Sonathan… wait, sorry, Janders Sanders… god dammit! Anyhow, I hope you’re not serious about wanting to get your hands on me… because nobody lays their hands on Mike Hawk and gets away with it. Especially in that wrestling ring! The only one who can touch Mike Hawk is me!
*He gets into the pet store and starts haphazardly opening all the cages, the animals running free as he does so. The woman behind the counter approaches him.*
Woman: What are you doing, what is wrong with you!?
Mike: Well I’m definitely not scared of Jonathan Sanders, if that’s what you were thinking!
Woman: I don’t even know who that is!! I just want you to stop doing that!
Mike: Yeah, that makes sense. I’m not going to, though.
*He keeps opening the cage until eventually all of the animals have been released. When the woman tries to stop him he places a spider gently on her face and she screams, stumbling backwards and falling behind the counter. Hawk walks out of the pet store to see people getting chased by big snakes, some freaking out over loose spiders, and a small dog riding a Roomba.*
Mike: Aww, good puppy!
*He makes a beeline for another store, one labeled “Bed, Bath, Fireworks and Beyond”.*
Mike: Wow, they expanded… just like the universe is constantly expanding. And that means we’re getting more insignificant by the day, because humans don’t matter and all that I know is sadness and pain. Nothing will ever be important, so let's have a wrestling match so determine which of us is less significant than the other. See? You see, Johnny? That’s you. That’s how you sound! You don’t think it’s that bad, it’s honestly that bad!
*He stops for a moment.*
Mike: Seriously. I don’t care how many times you’ve been on thesaurus.com, or how many syllables you can fit into a single sentence, this is a wrestling match, not a spelling bee. If it was a spelling bee, though, you know I’d have the best word. N-O-S-F-E-R-A-T-U.
*He keeps walking, now just outside the store.*
Mike: …Excuse me for one second.
*He walks into the store, off-camera, and comes out with an armload of various fireworks, placing them down in the center of the large area stated before, then goes and gets another armload, and then another. He’s set them all up, they’re pointed up at the glass ceiling, and he gives a little smirk, looking at the camera.*
Mike: That’s more like it.
*He sets them all in position, getting ready and lighting the fuse, walking away as it slowly burns down.*
Mike: Krav-Maga.
*The fireworks go off, to a backing track of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture, pieces of the mall’s ceiling falling, the glass cracking, things lighting on fire, people screaming, animals running away from the loud noises as Hawk walks through the destruction and chaos he’s once again caused.*
Mike: Ahh… it's nice to have crowds again.
*He walks out of the mall, seeing the destruction ensue from the outside. A security guard runs at him, but a piece of burning rubble falls on him as Hawk takes his leave, the song coming to a close as the mall starts to crumble behind him. Fade to black.*
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Post by Jonathan Sanders on Oct 4, 2021 21:11:15 GMT -5
PRELUDE: TOTAL ECLIPSE*Fade in. We open in a darkened bedroom, sparsely furnished save the bed itself and a single nightstand beside it, along with one dresser only barely visible in the corner. The walls are shrouded almost entirely in shadow, save one stream of moonlight entering through the window above the bed, illuminating its occupant as none other than PWS: Apex resident jokester, Mike Hawk. Hawk is lying on one side, covered by the blankets with his arms wrapped around his Destination NEXT briefcase, the one decorated with googly eyes that he calls “Casey Casem”. As we view this scene, the opening notes of Bonnie Tyler’s “Turn Around (Total Eclipse of the Heart)” play quietly over it, setting the mood. We are accompanied by some narration, the voice not of Mike Hawk but instead of his opponent tonight, Jonathan Sanders.*“Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me…”*As the song begins in earnest, a single spotlight flashes on to illuminate a familiar full-length mirror on the opposite side of Hawk’s room, accompanied by the words:*“Turn around…” *Hawk opens his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them and sitting up, glancing in confusion at the mirror across the room.*“Every now and then I get a little bit lonely
And you’re never comin’ ‘round.”*Hawk slowly stands up, revealing himself to already be clad in his wrestling trunks, and turns back to his bed to softly place Casey Casem on the mattress, patting him softly and covering him with the covers.*“Turn around…” *Hawk then whirls around and slowly approaches the mirror, tilting his head in confusion as he does.*“Every now and then I get a little bit tired
Of listening to the sound of my tears.” *Hawk reaches the mirror, slowly reaching out and running his hands along the ornate wooden rim.*“Turn around…” *He then turns his attention to the glass, suddenly, as if he heard a sound, and cautiously reaches out to tap on the glass with one finger.*“Every now and then I get a little bit nervous
That the best of all the years have gone by.” *Hawk taps the glass of the mirror again, then tilts his head to the other side as he places his palm against it, his reflection doing the same.*“Turn around…” *Suddenly Hawk’s reflection changes, briefly flashing to that of a grinning Jonathan Sanders, whose steel-grey eyes glint maliciously in the moonlight.*“Every now and then I get a little bit terrified,
And then I see the look in your eyes…” *Hawk jumps at this and turns away, trying to run but finding his hand frozen to the mirror.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *Hawk struggles against the mirror, pulling at his wrist with his free hand and trying desperately to scramble away as more and more of his arm is pulled through the glass.*“Every now and then I fall apart!” *Hawk turns back to face Casey Casem, reaching out for him as he desperately struggles against whatever is pulling him into the mirror, silently screaming for help from this inanimate object.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *Hawk is then pulled fully through the looking glass, our camera rotating around as if to “follow” him.*“Every now and then I fall apart!” “Turn around…” *As Hawk falls into his mirror our camera smoothly transitions to a new locale, that of a rainy, dreary suburban backyard. Young Jonathan Sanders sits on a soaked brown wooden deck which abuts the back of a run-down, cheap-looking townhouse and holds his knees to his chest, silently sobbing as the song continues.*“Every now and then I get a little bit restless
And I dream of somethin’ wild.” *As the drums in the song grow more aggressive, lightning flashes in time with the beat and a hand extends from offscreen to present itself in front of young Sanders’ face.*“Turn around…” *Young Jonathan Sanders looks up as our camera pans out, and we see the source of the hand is none-other than his adult self, looking down at him sympathetically.*“Every now and then I get a little bit helpless
And I’m lying like a child in your arms.” *Sanders reaches out to take the hand before him, and the elder Jonathan smiles, crouching to place his other hand on his younger counterpart’s shoulder as a gesture of comfort.*“Turn around…” *Young Jonathan throws his arms around his older self’s neck, sobbing silently against his chest as the current Sanders slowly rubs his back.*“Every now and then I get a little bit angry
And I know I’ve got to get out and cry.” *The elder Sanders now steps away from his younger self, causing the child to look up at him, puzzled, but he merely steps aside and motions with one arm to a mirror on the other end of the yard.*“Turn around…” *Young Sanders’ lips curl into a wicked, devious grin, his steel-grey eyes glinting with glee as he pushes himself to stand up from the steps.*“Every now and then I get a little bit terrified,
But then I see the look in your eyes…” *Young Sanders takes off running towards the mirror, the footage playing in slow-motion.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *He continues to approach the mirror as lightning crashes, illuminating the adult Sanders behind him. For just a brief moment within the lightning flash, his appearance changes from ordinary adult Jonathan Sanders to now be clad in long black robes and his black devil’s mask, silhouetted like a demon against the night sky behind him.*“Every now and then I fall apart!” *Young Sanders leaps into the air, flying towards the mirror as his grin only widens.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *Sanders crashes through the mirror, sending glass shards flying all around him, and as he transitions to the other side we see him emerge as his adult self (sans devil mask), careening into the same black void we saw in his previous Riot promo on Dickie Watson.*“Every now and then I fall apart!” *As Sanders enters the black void, we also see a very confused and terrified-looking Mike Hawk, who breaks into a full sprint in the opposite direction. Sanders grins and, without breaking his stride, in one smooth motion lands on his feet and chases after him*“And I need you now tonight!
And I need you more than ever!
And if you only hold me tight.
We’ll be holding on forever!” *Hawk looks back over his shoulder as he continues to scramble away from the now-adult Jonathan Sanders, who pursues him with a wild expression, cackling silently all the while.*“And we’ll only be making it right,
‘Cause we’ll never be wrong!
Together we can take it to the end of the line.
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time!
(All of the time!)” *Hawk spots a mirror identical to the one from his bedroom which brought him here in the distance to his left, and he makes a sharp and abrupt left turn towards it, hoping to throw Sanders off the trail. The Lost Cause simply grins and follows him, his strides now beginning to leave a trail of fiery footprints in the void behind him.* “I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark,
We’re livin’ in a powder keg and givin’ off sparks!” *Sanders leaps into the air now, the flames from his feet beginning to overtake his entire body. He advances on Hawk as the footage goes into slow-motion once again, time seeming to elongate as he flies towards his opponent.*“I really need you tonight!” *Sanders makes contact with Mike Hawk now, sending the pair of them hurtling through the mirror in a hail of flames and broken glass.*“Forever’s gonna start tonight!
Forever’s gonna start tonight!” *As the pair fly through the mirror, we follow them through the glass as the camera angle rotates, turning the previously-horizontal scene vertical as the two fall, still in slow-motion and gradually slowing down until they come to a complete stop in the middle of a void filled with stars, with the mirror they fell through at the top and another one at the bottom, facing up.*“Once upon a time I was falling in love,
Now I’m only falling apart…
There’s nothing I can say,
A total eclipse of the heart.”*We slowly zoom in on the pair, entwined in combat as they fall. Sanders’ face is frozen in a silent maniacal cackle, his eyes glinting sadistically in the light of the aura of flame surrounding him. Hawk, on the other hand, bears an expression of anger as he struggles against Sanders’ grip. As we pan through this tableau, we get more narration from the man himself between verses.*“The carriage held but just Ourselves -
And Immortality.”*Slowly, with the two still frozen in place, we zoom back out to a much longer shot. The edges of our scene are framed by the same ornate rim as the mirrors we saw earlier, and panning back further reveals that's exactly where they are. Standing in front of the mirror is the black robe-clad, devil-masked version of Jonathan Sanders, who watches the pair intently.*"Once upon a time there was light in my life,
Now there's only love in the dark…" [/div][/i] *Our shot whirls back around now and we see a long shot of the pair frozen mid-fall, except now the image of devil-mask Sanders is superimposed over the background behind them, enormous and looming like a ghost in the void.*"There's nothing I can do,
A total eclipse of the heart." *Just as the musical interlude starts, the enormous watcher's eyes flash and he suddenly raises his right arm to take the Baphomet pose, unfreezing the scene and causing the two to resume their slow-motion fall. We zoom back in on Sanders and Hawk, fighting valiantly as they do, while Sanders' narration begins again.*"We slowly drove - He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labour and my leisure too,
For His Civility…"*As the pair fall, the background changes, bearing an image of a schoolyard full of children, all standing around young Jonathan Sanders, pointing and laughing at him.*“We passed the School, where Children strove…”*The image quickly changes to one of Sanders in the ring, a clip of when he won the Collateral Damage Championship from Cleo Phillips. This is then accompanied by Hawk winning the Destination NEXT Briefcase.*“At Recess - in the Ring...”*The pair now fall past a wide, panning shot of PWS: Apex’s first post-COVID crowd.*“We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain…”*As they continue to fall, they pass a shot of Mack McKane standing on the entrance ramp during his PWS return.*“We passed the Setting Sun.”*Suddenly, Mack turns around, looking directly at the pair as if he’s aware of what’s happening.*“Or rather - He passed Us -
The Dews drew quivering and Chill..."*As the pair continue to fall, Sanders turns in mid-air to look at Mack McKane, then winks and blows him a kiss, which appears as a little fiery heart that flies towards the PWS legend.*"For only Gossamer, my Gown -
My Tippet - only Tulle."*At this moment, the pair finally crash through the mirror at the bottom of this starry void, and glass shards fly in every direction all around. We pass through the mirror with them, in one smooth transition to find both men lying on the ground in the middle of a lawn in front of the old, burned-out ruins of a suburban house.*"We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground -
The Roof was scarcely visible -
The Cornice - in the Ground..."*As the pair slowly come to, they turn to face the sooty structure and we see - seated cross-legged on the ground in front of it - young Jonathan Sanders.*"Turn around, bright eyes…” *Adult Sanders and Hawk slowly get back to their feet, as young Sanders keeps his eyes on the ruins.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *Suddenly, as the pair stand watching in stillness, young Sanders whips around to glare at them both.*“Turn around…” *The wreckage of the building spontaneously erupts into flames again as young Jonathan Sanders stands up, slowly advancing on the pair.*“Every now and then
I know you’ll never be the boy
You always wanted to be.” *Hawk turns and begins to flee, looking back at Jonathan Sanders as he slowly steps forward towards his younger self.*“Turn around…” *Adult Sanders regards the boy with a mix of sorrow and pity, extending a hand to the child, who reaches out and grasps it.*“But every now and then
I know you’ll always be the only boy
Who wanted me the way that I am.” *Now holding hands, the duo turn their sights back on Mike Hawk, who continues to flee through the snowy night.*“Turn around…” *As the adult and child Jonathan Sanders begin to advance, the black robe and devil mask-clad Sanders explodes out of the top of the blazing, ruined house, hovering above the scene with an aura of flames around him like a perversion of the Christmas star.*“Every now and then
I know there’s no-one in the universe
As magical and wondrous as you.” *We now jump to follow Mike Hawk again, glancing back over his shoulder as he scrambles away from the increasingly-terrifying scene behind him.*“Turn around…” *The pair of Jonathans now break into a run, hands still clasped, grinning wildly as they pursue the fleeing Hawk.*“Every now and then
I know there’s nothing any better,
There’s nothing that I just wouldn’t do…” *We follow Hawk again here as he makes his mad dash for freedom, into the wilderness which apparently surrounds the house in all directions.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *We cut back to Jonathan and Jonathan, pursuing Hawk like predators chasing their prey, grey eyes glinting sadistically in the moonlight.*“Every now and then I fall apart!” *Cut back to Hawk, speeding through the underbrush, leaping over roots and low branches until he reaches a clearing in the trees.*“Turn around, bright eyes…” *We see Sanders and young Sanders burst into the clearing behind him, just off to Hawk’s left.*“Every now and then I fall apart!" *Hawk looks across the clearing and spies a mirror at the other end, his eyes lighting up as he rushes towards it, with both versions of Sanders in hot pursuit.*““And I need you now tonight!
And I need you more than ever!
And if you only hold me tight.
We’ll be holding on forever!” *The two Jonathans decide to split up, each approaching Hawk from the flanks, as the forest behind them begins to catch fire.*“And we’ll only be making it right,
Because we’ll never be wrong!” *As the fire spreads and the two Jonathans get closer, Hawk leaps towards the mirror, reaching out for salvation from the fate that awaits him.*“Together we can take it to the end of the line.
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time!
(All of the time!)” *As Hawk flies towards the mirror, the pair of Sanders’ leap after him, arms outstretched like pouncing tigers, clawing ravenously at his heels as they begin to give off trails of embers as well.*“I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark,
We’re livin’ in a powder keg and givin’ off sparks!” *The adult Jonathan Sanders manages to catch Hawk and the pair begin to fall to the ground at the base of the mirror, missing it by inches.*“I really need you tonight!” *Hawk kicks and elbows at Sanders violently, managing to flip over and toss the adult Sanders into the younger one, then leaps into the mirror as the two collide, exploding with flames.*“Forever’s gonna start tonight!
Forever’s gonna start tonight!” *As Hawk leaps through the mirror we transition to darkness, then slowly fade back in on the same bedroom we opened with. Casey Casem lies tucked into the covers just as Hawk left him, and Mike Hawk is lying sprawled on the floor beside the bed, fast asleep.*“Once upon a time I was falling in love,
Now I’m only falling apart…
There’s nothing I can do,
A total eclipse of the heart.” *Hawk’s eyes flicker open and he slowly seems to wake up, picking himself up off the floor and glancing over at his bedroom mirror. It’s still there, so he advances on it slowly.*“Once upon a time there was light in my life,
Now there’s only love in the dark…” *Hawk reaches forward to place his palm against the mirror...and nothing happens, except his reflection mimicking his actions. He flicks on the light switch and then flicks it back off again, and nothing changes.*“There’s nothing I can say,
A total eclipse of the heart.” *Hawk breathes a sigh of relief and then returns to his bed, climbing in next to Casey Casem.*“A total eclipse of the heart…” *Mike nestles into bed and pulls up the covers around himself, kissing his Destination NEXT briefcase on its “face” before wrapping his arms around it and closing his eyes.*“A total eclipse of the heart.” *As Hawk drifts off again, we focus on his mirror, which reflects only the bedroom it resides in as Sanders’ narration begins again.*“Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity…”*As the music slowly fades out, we get one final line, punctuated by a brief flicker of the film as the devil mask-clad, black robed Sanders appears in Hawk’s mirror again.*“Turn around…” *The image then vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and we hold on the mirror for a beat as the music fades. Fade Out.*------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ANTITHESIS: TILTING AT WINDMILLS*We open on a wide shot of what seems to be a public park, surrounded by greenery and trees at the edge of a beach, with the Golden Gate bridge visible in the far distance. A few pedestrians mill about, though their numbers are sparse, and the leaves hanging from the trees have begun to change from green to shades of red and brown, indicative of autumn’s onset. As we pan through the park we fall upon a statue in the centre, the twilight of the setting sun glinting off its weathered bronze surface and lending the whole thing an almost otherworldly shimmer in the dying breath of day. The statue appears to be of two men - one tall and thin, the other short and stocky - kneeling at the foot of a long stone pedestal, atop which sits the bronze head of a man wearing a 16th-century ruff. Both the kneeling figures are dressed in medieval breastplates, the attire of a classical knight-errant, and the man on top has a head of thinning hair and a pencil-thin mustache and goatee. Astute viewers will recognize this as the Cervantes Memorial in San Francisco, and as we hold on this iconic statue, the wind rustling through the trees is interrupted by the sound of an all-too-familiar voice.*“‘When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?’”*The camera slowly pans around to reveal PWS: Apex Collateral Damage champion, Jonathan Sanders, seated on a park bench across from the memorial. He’s clad in a black leather jacket and distressed charcoal-grey jeans, along with a black ANTITHESIS hoodie and his signature Converse sneakers. The champion’s hair is combed to the side for a change, with a few errant bangs hanging in a sort of loose, messy pseudo-fringe above his right eye. He’s sitting slouched forward and facing the ground, clutching his Collateral Damage title belt in both hands and letting it hang between his legs, the strap brushing the ground at his feet as he speaks.*“‘Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams - this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness...and maddest of all; to see life as it is, and not as it should be.’”*Inhaling sharply, Sanders slowly looks up, his steel-grey eyes oddly introspective as they lock with the camera.*“Such is the wisdom of Miguel de Cervantes, often regarded as the father of the modern novel. Cervantes was a man well-acquainted with suffering, with firsthand knowledge of the absurdity that life demands of us. He spent his formative years with nothing, struggling to eat and a victim of his father’s vices, constantly on the move to avoid the repercussions of his father’s various debts. We know little about the man save that he seemed to find some solace in violence, as wounding his opponent in a duel forced Cervantes to flee Madrid and find his way to Rome. He served briefly in the military, hoping the concept of ‘honour’ may help to clear his name in the eyes of those with power, but all it truly earned him was capture and enslavement by Barbary pirates for five agonizing years of his life. In this time, never ONCE did he give up, risking life and limb in four separate escape attempts...all of which would ultimately prove, as all our struggles do in this life, to be absolutely futile. He would be ransomed back home shortly after his final failed attempt, of course, but the impact of such repeated failures cannot be easily undone.”*Sanders pauses here, softly exhaling, an oddly wistful, bitter smirk playing its way across his features.*“Sorrow is a tricky thing. It’s slow, in its infection of the mind; a creeping cancer, spreading through the psyche not in one fell swoop but over time, with repeated exposure to low-level trauma. Certainly, more explicitly violent or impactful events can leave their scars on us as well, but that damage is far easier to track than the more nefarious, plodding misery that comes from living through abuse. From the sort of extended, existential suffering that only bondage, poverty or illness can ever truly put us through. From living as a victim of this cruel, BROKEN system and being held at the mercy of its arbitrary, ridiculous whims!”*Another pause, and the Lost Cause slowly inhales, composing himself again. His eyes bore holes into the camera with their sharp, barely-contained malice as he continues speaking.*“Cervantes knew this pain only too well. It was a fact rarely reflected directly in his works, but the philosophy espoused by the man through his characters - particularly lamenting on the lunacy of life - make it perfectly, abundantly clear. Cervantes was not a fan of the romantic idealism of his contemporaries; he penned ‘Don Quixote’ with the express intention of undermining the vapid emptiness that ‘chivalry’ has come to represent. It was meant as a PARODY of the standards of the time, a subtly vitriolic jab at our constant romanticization of all that’s come before. A dig at the trappings of nobility, and the pompous self-importance that comes with believing this world cares about you. Don Quixote’s not a hero, he’s a fool. A man so consumed by his dreams of being the heroic knight-errant that he loses himself entirely to a false reality within his mind. The world thinks him insane, and yet...maybe that’s the point. Perhaps that image is precisely the one that Don Quixote has tried so hard to cement in people’s minds. Perhaps there is, as Shakespeare put it, truly a method in what we see...as madness.”*Sanders pauses again, his lips curling into a sardonic, derisive smirk. His eyes glint with a sick, malicious glee as he shifts his position on the bench, leaning back against the backrest and stretching out one arm to rest along the top. He drapes his CD belt along the seat next to himself.*“See, Don Quixote was a noble; in the book, he has a penchant for reading chivalric romance novels, to such an extent and with such fervor that he inevitably loses his mind. But perhaps what we see as failure is in fact a stroke of genius. Perhaps Don Quixote realized, as his author Cervantes did, how absurd and arbitrary the world he lived in truly was. Perhaps he KNEW the system was broken, that society - particularly affluence - is a withering, cancerous disease that’s slowly eating humanity from the inside out, and he chose to become a parody of it. He chose to reflect the world back onto itself, to show them through his actions how laughable and lunatic their actions truly are. See, that’s the thing with comedy; it only really works when everyone watching gets the joke. Isn’t that true, Michael?”*Sanders pauses for longer, now, leveling his gaze at the camera again as his smirk blossoms into a grin.*“I KNOW what you’re doing, Michael. Why you call me ‘Nosferatu’ and insist on an insipid, childish name like ‘Mike Hawk’. I understand that you’re trying to be a parody of the absurd world we live in. A scathing reflection of the many failures of this system. You are the modern Don Quixote, a court jester for the common era. Instead of tilting at windmills, you proclaim yourself ‘President of Professional Wrestling’ and put googly-eyes on a briefcase. You parade around with precisely the same kind of unearned confidence and refusal to acknowledge your own faults that the rest of humanity have adopted as a matter of course, because they lack the self-awareness of how ridiculous they look.”*Sanders pauses again, his grin having faded to a bitter scowl. He slowly lowers his arm from the back of the bench, sitting forward again with his hands on his knees.*“But I know the truth, Michael. I know that when these foolish, infantile sycophants are laughing at YOU, in truth they are laughing at themselves. At how selfish, myopic and deluded their society has conditioned them to be. And I know why you've chosen to be this thing. I know WHY you choose to play the clown...because it’s easier than confronting reality. You hide behind this humour because it’s preferable to the overwhelming truth that we have both known for far too long; that this is a COLD, UNCARING world, and WE are meaningless cogs in its vast and infinite machinery, doomed to rust and rot away into oblivion and utterly powerless to prevent it. You know that you can’t CHANGE the world so you’ve chosen to MOCK it; you can’t stand seeing your reflection, so you pull a funny face. Well I’m not smiling back this time, Michael...because I’m the only one who truly gets the joke.”*Sanders suddenly leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees and lowering his voice to an intense near-whisper.*“It’s life. Life is the joke, Michael. And the void is the only punchline.”*The Snake of Eden's lip curls into an odd sort of wild grin as his eyebrows arch in response, the steel-grey orbs beneath them glinting insanely with a predator edge as he stands up. He inhales sharply and lifts his Collateral Damage title onto his shoulder, making eye-contact with the camera again.*“Tonight, you'll all get to see that punchline firsthand when we witness a momentous occasion in PWS: Apex history..."*Sanders glares directly down the camera lens now, his grin giving way to an intense, angry glare.*"The assassination of the President of Professional Wrestling.”*With that, another sadistic smirk crosses the face of the self-styled Horseman of Plague, who pushes the camera away and pivots on his heel, striding off down the beach and castling a long, warped shadow in the slowly-fading sunlight. A beat, and then we fade to static, and ultimately from there to black.**Fin.*
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