- Event: Refueled XXVI
CUT FROM BLACK: A ticking clock. A stack of disorganized papers on a mahogany desk. A water cooler bubbles an air pocket to the surface. There’s that stock sound effect of crickets for background noise that’s been in every anime that’s ever existed.
CUTTO: Mary-Lynn Mayweather, early twenties, overworked and stressed out. Her head is held in her hands.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
So, what you’re telling me.
Mary-Lynn lets out a sigh. She looks up for the first time. It looks like the bags under her eyes are packing to take their own trip. She takes a moment, composes herself, and brightly smiles.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
You think Jack is doing WHAT now?
CUTTO: The other side of the desk. The bruiserweight Klein, late 30s, wearing a cardboard box over his head with a hand drawn sharpied face.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
And can you take that off? Please? It’s hard to take you seriously.
His shoulders tremble. He shakes his head no.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Great. First he tries to kill himself, now he’s going to get arrested for stalking. Klein, stay here a minute.
Mary-Lynn turns back to her desk and picks up her cell phone. As she turns around, Klein is gone. If this were a cartoon, there would be three straight lines and a few small clouds of smoke. Mary-Lynn sighs.
SFX: PHONE RINGS.
Mary-Lynn’s picture is pushed to the left side of the screen, as High Flyer, in a completely different location, appears on the right side, separated by a single semi-thin line. He is covering his face with a hoodie and ducked behind what looks to be a garbage can.
HIGH FLYER:
Not a good time Red.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Jack, Klein just told me. It’s 3 am.
HIGH FLYER:
Lame. Stupid boy scout. So, whaddya want?
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Oh, I don’t know. As your lawyer, I advise AGAINST stalking?.
HIGH FLYER:
What? I’m not stalking.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
You’re not?
HIGH FLYER:
I’m a concerned citizen.
Mary-Lynn facepalms.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Concerned?
HIGH FLYER:
Yeah. I worry about things. I’m an actual human person.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Listen, please stop stalking your boss. There’s a reason Lee stopped returning your calls.
HIGH FLYER:
(smugly)
I hope you know, I’m not stalking Lee Best…
(less smugly)
-because I don’t know his address.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Then where are you!?
HIGH FLYER:
Ahhhhh. Trick question.
Mary-Lynn blinks.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
How was that a trick question?
HIGH FLYER:
Ah, see. Because if I tell you, you’ll come here and stop me.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
That’s… That was my intent.
HIGH FLYER:
Oh.
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
Alright, whatever, just, don’t get arrested.
HIGH FLYER:
Why?
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
You make 12 grand less this year than you did last year.
HIGH FLYER:
So?
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
If you get another misdemeanor, you’ll be at a net loss financially for the year, and it’s only May.
HIGH FLYER:
Gotta spend money to make money!
MARY-LYNN MAYWEATHER:
That, doesn’t even-
Mary-Lynn tries to respond but Flyer closes his old school clam shell phone. As he does, the side of her screen clicks off frame and we focus just on Jack, who looks out from behind some garbage cans. He nods to himself, and enters the streets of New York. Empty for this time of night, but that would surely change. To the astute eyes, this would be the street that houses the TC Pub, and would be the street MJ Flair lives on.
He quickly rushes into the building.
CUTTO: High Flyer standing in front of the door to MJ Flair’s apartment. He quickly knocks, three times. Then gets impatient. Knocks again, but then thinks better of continuing because it’s so late and you shouldn’t knock so much, they heard the first one. Or did they? He should knock aga-
The door swings open, and a dressed and clearly awake MJ Flair appears.
HIGH FLYER:
Hey. I owed you for the vodka. So, here’s vodka.
Flyer shoves the bottle into her awaiting arms.
HIGH FLYER:
Wanna try again?
MJ clutches the bottle in her hands and looks up, smiling.
CUTTO: Jack Harmen, standing in front of a HOW wrestling banner. It waves behind him. His eyes look a bit wide, blood shot, but more focused than ever.
HIGH FLYER:
There’s always a chance.
Harmen laughs.
HIGH FLYER:
You just gotta keep trying.
Flyer cracks his knuckles.
HIGH FLYER:
So Teddy, I’m studying your tapes, I’m watching Red and Ted’s Excellent Adventures, learning every limitation, impulse, desire… and I’m coming to Refueled, ready to kick your head into the front row.
Flyer looks down for a moment.
HIGH FLYER:
And, I hope, you got that weird scrotum thing on your elbow taken care of. Kind of freaked me out a bit…
High Flyer shudders as the camera fades to black.