THE DEATH OF INDY DARLING

Clive Darling was a man of promise, a man with a future. He was a British immigrant that could chain wrestling holds together in a way like Shakespeare could flow from one verse to another. He had a right hand that opponents’ would swear landed like it was made of solid granite. On top of all that, he could fly when the situation called for it, having mastered a variety of high-risk maneuvers that looked as graceful as they were effective. American promoters on the independent scene were quick to book him, believing they had the chance to showcase someone special before he would eventually get grabbed up by a large promotion and put under the bright lights in front of sold-out crowds.

Despite all of that promise, Clive never hit the big time. Some say he was lacking that killer instinct, that he was too determined to be a ‘good guy’, and that his unwavering dedication to honorable fights worked to his detriment. For years, it seemed as if Clive Darling was on the cusp of greatness, only to have it slip from his reach like a lover’s kiss blown to him in the wind.

Indy Darling had spoken about his dad a lot since joining Project: Honor, maybe to the point that some were sick of hearing about him. He shared the lessons that his father had taught him during Nate’s impressionable years traveling with him from one city to another. Indy even created a tournament in his father’s honor at last year’s Clash for the Cup, hand-selecting an elite group of performers that he thought captured at least one of his father’s positive attributes.

Due to this championing on behalf of his son, the fans and competitors of Project: Honor are already familiar with Clive Darling, yet only a rare few have ever heard him speak. Like a ghost from a decade past, Clive’s rugged good looks and charming smile emerge on the screen courtesy of archived footage. The when and where behind this rare interview are seemingly unimportant, as there is no voice-over to catch us up to speed. All that matters are the words that leave his mouth and the sparkle in his eyes when he says them.

“I’ve a boy of my own now. Lots of trouble and strife if ya ask me. Hopefully he takes after his mother.”

His laughter could be considered contagious, a warm and welcoming tone, as if he had never met a stranger in his life.

“Nah, he’s a good lad. Already strong as a damn mule and twice as stubborn. He’s gonna be better than I ever will be, that much I’m sure of. From here on out, no matter what I do in the business, it’s gonna take a backseat to him. The greatest thing I’ll ever do ain’t a shooting star or a neck bridge. It’s having him.”

That smile. That goddamn smile. It’s infectious. If the plague were something to make you feel warm inside, if it brought a smile to your face no matter your mood, it would have been called a Clive Darling Smile.

“He’s got my eyes. Have I mentioned that already? And his first word was 'dada', followed damn close by 'RASSLE'!”

And that laugh! It didn’t just make you want to buy a ticket, it made you want to be his friend, to share a few beers with him on Friday Night after the show.

“He’s the one to leave a lasting impression on this business, the one to do something meaningful, ya’ know? He’s gonna do great things, this boy of mine. No doubt about it. He’s the one.”

My father took me into the city

To see a marching band

He said, "Son, when you grow up

Would you be the savior of the broken

The beaten and the damned?"

He said, "Will you defeat them?

Your demons, and all the non-believers

The plans that they have made?"

"Because one day, I'll leave you a phantom

To lead you in the summer

To join the black parade"

With those final words, Clive Darling’s image freezes and slowly fades. It doesn’t vanish per say, but it morphs, until the man sitting in front of the camera is no longer Clive Darling, but the very boy he spoke of those many years ago. Nathaniel Demetrius Carmichael smiles at the camera, but the warmth that was present when his father spoke is completely absent. In fact, this new smile is downright disingenuous to the point of being a mockery of what came before it.

“My father lied about a great number of things in his life, but I think we can agree that he nailed that last part right on the head. What does it take to have someone declared an authentic prophet? Because, goddamn it people, he couldn’t be talking about anyone other than yours truly.”

That smile. That self-righteous smile. It’s infectious. If the plague had been slightly worse than it already was, if it had killed just a few thousand more, we’d be calling it the Media Darling Smile.

“Johnny Levy wishes his father could say something as genuine without earning himself yet another ticket to Hell. Instead, the best compliment old man Levy can truthfully say about Johnny is that his boy is the lowest-grossing child actor of all time. Seriously, have you seen any of his work? Martin Scorsese took one look at Johnny and then begged to have Ricky Shroder audition. He makes the Olsen Twins look like Broadway performers. Every night before Jake Lloyd goes to bed, he thanks God for Johnny Levy and considers his blasphemous butchering of the Star Wars Saga a true blessing in comparison. On the scale of Hollywood performers who peaked before puberty, Johnny Levy is down there somewhere with Dustin Diamond.”

Nathaniel, still sporting that relatively new version of his old cocky grin, gives a brief shake of his head.

“Johnny Levy…I mean seriously…fuck that guy.”

ACT 2 - SCENE 1 - OFF CAMERA

“MOMMY DEAREST”

It was cold in Indiana last December, but that should come as no surprise. It may not have been as cold as usual thanks to an ever-thinning ozone layer and the mass slaughter of the world’s ocean life, but it was still pretty fucking cold. For Indy Darling, who was counting down the days until he’d have spinal surgery, it was colder than it was for most.

It had started with Ozymandias and his freakish World Ender, then was further complicated by a gang attack in a Fallout parking lot, and finally pushed to its absolute limit by a painted freak who claimed to be Indy’s own brother and swung a mean sledgehammer. There was no more putting off surgery, and with it came a dark cloud to cast a heavy shadow on Indy’s in-ring future.

Indy knew that Rock Johnson had offered him the role of Proving Ground General Manager out of pity and maybe even as a way to avoid a potential lawsuit. It didn’t really matter to Indy, because that offer came at the perfect time. He had to dial back his schedule, but the job of running Proving Ground would at least keep him in the business he loved. With this surgery looming and the prospect of never wrestling again should the surgeon’s hand slip, Indy knew he couldn’t count on another timely offer to come should he need it.

Thankfully, Nate was hard at work at making his own opportunity. The government was breathing down Project: Honor’s neck, due in part to his own mother’s extreme distaste for the business and even more to her penchant for making Indy’s life a living hell. There was one thing that Nate had and his mother didn’t: namely, a best friend with a very good lawyer. Adam Ekaterin would take care of everything, all Indy the other interested parties would need to do is come up with the money.

Thus it was not the looming holiday season or life-threatening surgery that convinced Indy to visit his mother last December, but an attempt to kill two birds with one stone. She sat behind her desk in Indianapolis, having put off one meeting or another to meet with her son. Senator Margaret Carmichael knew that he hated her guts, and watching Nate lower himself to ask for money made her positively jubilant. In fact, she almost smiled.

“I admit that I’m not trying to bury the hatchet for any other reason than this money. You’ve resented me for most of your life, disapproved of everything I’ve ever done, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that we’ll never have a good mother/son relationship. I just hope you see how this could benefit both of us. You get me out of the ring…out of the spotlight…and into a more respectable management position. At the same time, I get to stay involved with the business I love and make positive changes in the industry.”

Margaret stared across the desk at her only son, allowing his words to linger like a lighter-than-air snowflake in the December air outside her window. Finally, she let out the kind of deep, heavy sigh that all children, no matter their age, are all too familiar with.

“You find it so easy to hate me, don’t you?”

The question came at Indy out of nowhere, as if it were a speeding truck whose driver had passed out behind the wheel. He didn’t know how to answer her, so he simply didn’t. Even through his blue aviators, Indy was certain that his mother could read the confusion on his face and would eventually answer it.

“I haven’t done much to rectify the problems between us, not that it would have made any difference. After all, your father only allowed you to see his good side. You saw him at his best, but me? I didn’t hide anything from you, Nathaniel. My frustration and anger, my sadness, my disappointment; they were all on display for you to judge. It may surprise you to hear this, but I’m sorry that you judged me so harshly.”

This was leading to something. Indy was sure of it. She was going to turn down his proposed business deal and deny him the money he needed to invest in Project: Honor, but first she had to give him the speech. The worst part was, he was at her mercy and could do nothing about it.

“You know I hate the wrestling business, but have you ever bothered to ask yourself why? I know it’s easy to paint me in a certain light, to write me off as a heartless bitch, but have you ever considered that there’s much more to the story than you’ve ever been privy to?”

“I…well…”

He hated talking with his mother more than anything else in the world. She had the power to make him feel 5 years old no matter what the topic at hand could be.

“I hated it because it took my family away from me. Now before you interrupt, I admit that I’m the one who left your father. I left you nearly twenty years ago to the day, but despite all of our angry words and our different lifestyles, you need to understand that not a day has gone by where I haven’t regretted that decision. Not leaving Clive but leaving you with him.”

This was something…new. What was her angle? Where was the twist? When would she drop the bomb?

“I was working two jobs to pay my way through law school. The sad truth is that I knew I could never finish what I’d started if I took you with me. So I made the most difficult decision of my life. I left you with your father and promised myself that once I had my degree, once my career started taking off, I’d be back for you. You may not even remember, but I eventually lived up to my promise. Only by the time I was ready for you, that hatred for me had already taken root in your heart.”

He thought the other shoe was about to drop, just like it always did. She was going to blame it on him or on his dad. Yet despite his reservations, Indy couldn’t help but remember how difficult he’d been after his father’s death upon moving in with a mother he barely knew.

“I know it wasn’t anything your dad said about me, because that’s not the kind of man he was. Instead, it was what he didn’t say about me. In those first few years when you asked about me, how did he answer? Did he smile and say something like, “Don’t worry about it, sport. Let’s get some ice cream.”? You don’t have to answer because I already know that’s how it went. When we were young and in love, if I ever mentioned being homesick, he’d flash that goddamn smile and remind me how he always had time for me, even when my father hadn’t. He never said a bad word about him. Not once. Then again, he never reminded me of the good things I was missing either.”

“I really don’t want to talk about dad again…”

He offered it as diplomatically as possible just in case there was still a chance of salvaging the deal.

“I know. Believe me, I know. Your stepfather hates it when I talk about him. He says I never got over him, and in a lot of ways, he’s right.”

Wait…WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

“But he was so focused on his dream, on the professional wrestling business, that sometimes I think he loved it more than me. No matter how much it hurt me to see him come home with blood-stained hair or an obvious limp, he wouldn’t trade that dream for anything in the world. Certainly not for me, and although you’ve never accepted it, he wouldn’t give it up for you either. Spending months on end living out of the back of his car? Going from one town to the next and moving you from school to school? It’s a miracle you turned out as well as you did, Nathaniel. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

“Um…thank you…?”

“That’s why I’m going to make this deal with you.”

Whoa…JACKPOT!

“On one condition…”

FUCK!

“If this works out, if the company continues to grow as you believe it will, at least consider an early retirement from competition. You may think I hate you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. What I hate is the idea of you destroying your body for people you don’t even know. I can’t bear the thought of you spending your life bleeding and breaking yourself like some modern day gladiator at the expense of discovering what else life has to offer. Love. Family. Friends. Happiness. You can have all of those things without pushing yourself into dying at an early age. Your father’s dream and his path are not your burden. Live your own life; not the life of a man who was too selfish and stubborn to see what else life had to offer him.”

Indy was speechless. His mind raced, not only from the prospect of being an owner of Project: Honor, but at the openly honest words his mother had shared. He couldn’t help but wonder why she was finally telling him all this after twenty years, but those concerns were fleeting. Whatever her motivation was, whatever her reasoning, she had just agreed to take his lifelong dream one step further than he’d ever imagined.

I'm just a boy who's angry at his mom

And I hope, in fact, she breaks her back

The moment I step on this crack

And don't tell me I'm not worth it

'Cause you are far from perfect

I am aware that you are all assholes

Who the hell cares about all of that though?

I am aware that I am an asshole

I really don't care about all of that though

I'm living my life the way that I want to

And you can't deny that, honestly, I'm just like you”

ACT 2 - SCENE 2 - ON CAMERA

“DEAR JOHNNY”

“I used to worship my father, which I know comes as no surprise to all of you who are racking up the view count on this video. I thought the man was an undiscovered legend, the epitome of hard work and dedication to his craft. I suppose he was, but where did that get him? He died without a penny to his name while I made more money in my first year with Project: Honor than he did during his entire life. Yes, I learned a lot about wrestling from my father, but I’ve only recently come to understand that I learned about real life from my mother.”

“Sure, I’m grateful for all the lessons my dad imparted to me, because without them I wouldn’t be half the wrestler that I am. Then again, without my mother I wouldn’t be an owner of one of the most successful professional wrestling companies to spring up over the past two years. Without her, I wouldn’t be a guiding force in this industry or have the money and power to make sure my influence is felt for years to come…and I’m not even twenty-five. For all of their faults, at least my parents have left me something worthwhile. What have your mom and dad left for you, Johnny? Bedtime stories about a religion you’re probably not even a part of? How to say all the right things to all the right people? How to lie through those expensive, bleached teeth?”

“Please. You’re nothing more than a conman, and not even a good one at that. If you want to see a real conman in action, I have more footage of my dad I could share. And that’s the man who taught me everything he knew. Every con you try to pull and every lie you tell makes me roll my eyes. That’s how pathetically transparent they are. You could use a few good lessons on how to tell believable lies.”

“When you joined this company and immediately ran into a brick wall, when it was far more difficult than you expected it to be, you blamed me for every misstep you experienced. I wasn’t even active in the company when I became your scapegoat, but that didn’t stop you from blaming me for everything from bad catering to your imperfect mani-pedi. Yes, Johnny. Project: Honor cameras are that good. You really need to find a new manicurist.”

“On some level, I actually get it. I’m sure it was a lot easier to blame the GM for all of your shortcomings, especially since he was away on medical leave and not around to defend himself. Even when I came back, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I’ll admit that I even got a kick out of your antics at times. Watching you spend your own money on elaborate entrances only to lose and then cry louder than an infant who lost his binky was entertaining in its own way.”

“I may have rallied against comedy acts recently, but I understand that they have their place on a wrestling card. After all, if we want Project: Honor to be the greatest sports entertainment brand in the world, we have to have something for everyone. Unfortunately, too much is not a good thing. Just like Fallout saturating the market with garbage matches, too much comedy can bring a brand down. It’s not that you don’t have your place in the company, because you absolutely do. After all, even the other comedy acts need someone to beat once in a while.”

“The problem with you, Johnny, is that you’re not staying in your lane. Go have a feud with Serrano, drag Lil’ Petey out of retirement, or have a deep philosophical debate with Ratman. Anything more than that will produce the same underwhelming results you’ve already experienced. No number of excuses will save you. There isn’t a big enough scapegoat for you to hide behind. There isn’t a lie believable enough to lift you back out of the gutter. Keep following the path you're on, and I’ll expose you faster than a pervert at a nudist colony. Find your speed in the slow lane and stay there, because if you continue trying to keep up with a Formula One like me, you’ll be eating dust for the rest of your miserable career.”

ACT 3 - SCENE 1 - OFF CAMERA

“SINS OF THE FATHER”

“Doctor” Dalton Miyagi had fallen on hard times when he first met Nate Carmichael. He ran a wrestling school in the part of Indianapolis that respectable people stayed away from, and his number of students had fallen to zero. Doc didn’t mind for the most part, as long as he had cheap booze and even cheaper women to occupy his time. Yet for some reason, when that skinny kid was getting beaten up in the alley behind his school, he decided to step in. It was a good thing he did too, because that boy’s mom was filthy rich.

When their training started, the kid insisted on going by the last name of Darling, but all of the checks Doc cashed had the Carmichael name on them. It wasn’t just the money that convinced Doc to train the kid though, it was also his pedigree. Doc had already retired from the ring when Clive Darling came to the states, but he was still making enough appearances on the independents to become familiar with the British standout.

Nate asked Doc about his dad often, but the old trainer knew he wasn’t asking the right questions. Still, he wasn’t about to jeopardize a steady paycheck by offering up information that wasn’t requested. It didn’t hurt that the kid was a natural. Doc knew if he hitched his cart to that kid and stayed with him, they’d both have their share of fame and fortune down the line. So, he told Nate what he needed to hear; how his dad worked in the ring, how he treated the other boys, and how he was always one match away from his big break. Those things were all true.

Subconsciously, Nate always knew there was more to the story. A person’s life is like an onion after all, layers on top of layers. You peel one away to discover another one underneath. The simple truth was that Nate didn’t want to know if the hidden layers in his dad’s life were filled with black spots. The layer that he had seen firsthand, that his father had willingly shared, was sweet and palpable. Discovering something bitter underneath that layer would have ruined the whole thing. The problem came when others started to tell Nate how rotten his dad’s story really was, and he knew that if he was going to continue indulging in it, he had to know what kind of worms were burrowed underneath that outer layer.

It had been months since that meeting with his mother and he was firmly in place as one of the four new owners of Project: Honor. They weren’t exactly the business partners Nate would have chosen, but he knew they would be better than Andrew Holt, maybe even better than Rock Johnson himself. Yet with that ownership came a new array of problems. Sure, there were annoyances like Levy, Giovanni, and Benson, but the real thing on Nate’s mind during most of March was the man claiming to be his brother. Their potential kinship was enough to trouble Nate’s mind, but the claims Kurtis Slayne was making about their shared father were even worse.

A drug addict? A womanizer? A deadbeat dad? These things may as well have been aliens from outer space in regards to the father he knew. Still, there was something behind Kurtis’ eyes every time he spoke and an edge to his voice that clawed at Nate’s subconscious mind. Kurtis Slayne had made him doubt the one man Nate thought he knew better than any other.

Nate needed answers and he knew that he couldn’t put blind faith in anything Kurtis had to say. Despite the improved relationship with his mother, Nate knew he couldn’t trust her point of view when it came to Clive Darling either. There was really only one choice. Nate had to pay a visit to his surrogate father, his trainer, Doctor Dalton Miyagi.

Having retired to California after a health scare, Doc was not as much a part of Nate’s life as he’d used to be. Sure, they would talk on the phone from time to time, but the life of a touring performer doesn’t allow many opportunities for face-to-face visits. With his match against Kurtis quickly approaching, a match that would settle the issues between them, Nate finally made one of those rare visits a reality.

Doc looked good, all things considered, and it was clear that his daughter was taking good care of him. It made Nate feel a bit guilty, seeing as how Doc had spent most of their time together drinking, smoking, and eating vast quantities of bacon. Even if Julius’ ex hadn’t poisoned the old man, his heart had been a ticking time bomb. Maybe it still was, but at least he had a beachfront view to enjoy during his twilight years.

“Goddamn kid, look at that one! If I was your age, I’d motorboat those funbags until I had a pair of black eyes.”

Yeah, Doc was doing pretty good, all things considered.

“You know me, Doc. I like women with a little more…substance.”

“Pft. That girl has more substance than her bikini can handle…”

Nate could feel the warmth in his cheeks and silently wondered if anyone would mistake it for a sunburn. After all their time together, the old man could still make him blush and leave him at a loss for words.

“So, if you’re not here to enjoy the finer things in life with your old buddy, why are you here?”

He shrugged his shoulders in response, reconsidering his own motivation now that the time was upon him to ask the hard questions. It very well could have ended there, but Doc Miyagi wasn’t the old fool he made himself out to be.

“Don’t play dumb, kid. I still watch TV, even with this kind of scenery outside my window. You’re letting that bastard get in your head.”

He shrugged again, this time more out of frustration than to avoid the conversation.

“How can I not? If you’ve been watching, then you know what he’s said. I’ve spent my life trying to live up to my dad. Hell, I may as well have been preaching his gospel. If even half of what Kurtis has said is true…”

“What? Your dad wasn’t a saint? News flash, kiddo. None of us are.”

“It’s not that. Not completely, anyway. It’s that I’m a liar. That I’m no better than anyone else.”

Doc let out a hearty laugh as he reached for his diet peach tea with the non-sugar additive.

“You’ve been using that old catch phrase of yours too much if you actually believe that you were ever better than everyone. ‘I’m Indy Darling and that’s not just good enough, it’s better than you’. There’s nothing wrong with confidence, but you’d better recognize when it turns into arrogance. That’s the difference between guys like you and that Levy goof that you guys give too much TV time to.”

Nate wanted to smile; he really did. He wanted the visit to be a good one despite his motivations for making the trip. That combined with Doc’s jabs at Johnny Levy still wasn’t enough to make him smile. Silence fell between the two men for several moments, with Doc gazing out toward the beach and Nate’s eyes falling to the wooden deck at his feet.

“Is any of it true?”

Nate’s question didn’t break the silence for long, at least not immediately. It was something Doc had to consider before finally answering.

“Out of context…from a skewed point of view…but yeah, some of it.”

Nate’s head hung a little lower, but Doc wasn’t going to hurt him without a deeper explanation.

“If you think there’s a man or a woman in this business that hasn’t dabbled in the darker side of things, you’re fooling yourself. Maybe it’s washing down a few Somas with a case of beer between towns to ease the pain. Maybe it’s having someone in a faraway city to comfort you when your spouse is thousands of miles away. Maybe it’s finding an illegal way to make a few bucks when a promoter doesn’t pay out, smuggling pills or cigarettes. I’m not saying your dad did all of that or any of it, but you’re not some naïve kid anymore. You know he had his vices, his demons, just like the rest of us.”

Demons and vices he could accept, at least to a point. Sure, it marred the pretty, watercolor picture he’d painted of his father in his mind, but in some ways, maybe it added a bit of character? Still, the full question had yet to be answered.

“And Kurtis…do you know…”

Nate bit his bottom lip, angry at himself for pushing the conversation further.

“Could he be my brother?”

Doc took a long drink from his glass and continued to keep his eyes on the horizon, as if he were hoping that a sea creature would rise from the depths and spare him from answering.

“Clive had a girl in Pennsylvania, that much I know for sure. So, is it possible? Yeah, kid, anything’s possible.”

Nate rose from his chair, an all-too-familiar anger bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. He planted his fist against one of the patio’s wooden supports with little care for the bones underneath his skin. Doc didn’t flinch or give Nate the benefit of a physical response.

“So what if I look into his eyes every time he’s on TV and see that same shade of blue in yours? So what if he’s got Clive’s jawline or has the same goddamn grace as you do when he comes off the top rope? Who gives a flying fuck if half of what he says is true? It doesn’t change what your dad meant to you and what you meant to him. It doesn’t change who you are, Indy.”

Nate hung his head forward, his bloody knuckles still resting against the wooden post.

“You’re wrong, Doc. It changes everything…”

Tell me where have you been?

You know I just closed my eyes

My whole world disappeared

Father of mine

Take me back to the day

Yeah, when I was still your golden boy

Back before you went away

I remember blue skies walking the block

I loved it when you held me high

I loved to hear you talk

You would take me to the movie

You would take me to the beach

Take me to a place inside

That's so hard to reach”

ACT 3 - SCENE 2 - ON CAMERA

“DEAR JOHNNY, REPRISE”

“There has been some recent discussion about my change in attitude, how I’ve been pushing things too far and acting out-of-character. At one point in my life, that kind of talk may have bothered me. It may have even forced me to take a long, hard look at my own actions. Now? Not so much.”

“I know people like Kurtis Slayne and Johnny Levy are probably racing to claim responsibility for this, but that’s complete bullshit. It’s as simple as growing up, for seeing the world as it really is. I suppose it’s a combination of things, but the point is, I’m sick and tired of being the naïve nice guy that everyone expects me to be. I’m not just sick of it, but I’m also no longer in a position where I can let things slide.”

“I have a responsibility to all of the fans and employees of Project: Honor to make it the best it can possibly be, and sometimes that means making difficult decisions. Layoffs and firings are just a recurring aspect of our business, and that’s not going to change until I make the necessary steps to ensure that this company is not only financially stable but fiscally thriving.”

“So by all means, may the Levys and Slaynes of this world take as much credit as they want. After all, Johnny has blamed me for everything bad in his life, so I may as well return the favor. Truthfully though, I’ve had people running my name through the mud since long before I was in a management position. It only got worse when I achieved a position of power that they so desperately coveted. From Arata to Ozymandias, every champion Proving Ground has had has blamed me for one thing or another. I may as well lean into it and accept their criticism with a smile on my face, because in the end, my decisions are lining their pockets.”

“We all know that Johnny Levy is making more than he was a year ago. Hollywood dried up for him when his first pimple made its on-screen debut. I didn’t simply make Johnny relevant again, but I made him relevant for the first time ever. Lowering myself to speaking his name elevated him to a place in this business that he could have never achieved on his own. In many ways, he owes me a debt of gratitude for the service I’ve provided. Signing him to a Proving Ground contract and giving him a platform to make an ass of himself week after week was not something I had to do. I did it because I saw the tiniest of sparks within him, something that I could mold into an effective mid-card talent.”

“By booking him in a match against myself, I’ve not only achieved that position for Johnny, but I’ve elevated him past it. Whether or not he can rebound from the loss I hand him and stay in the main event picture is entirely up to him. It almost reminds me of the opportunity I had against Colton Saint for the X-Factor Championship. Only when I had that chance, I seized it and put The Outlaw’s shoulders on the mat. Johnny’s story does not continue with him becoming an elite champion for this company. With all due respect to MYOJIN, it does not continue with him elevating a title to relevance.”

“For Johnny Levy, it continues with exactly what he’s owed; a crushing defeat and the ultimate burial he’s been begging me to provide.

ACT 4 - SCENE 1 - OFF CAMERA

“O’ BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU?”

Their clash at Disputed Territory was not a match. It wasn’t even a fight. It was nothing less than a war of attrition. Kurtis Slayne lost that war in a physical sense, but in the battlefield of the mind, he had achieved his greatest victory. He had set out to dismantle the reputation and legacy of his father, a banner that his half-brother had been proudly carrying for years.

His plan of attack had been methodical; a warning here, a physical assault there. He kept his enemy guessing while broadcasting his propaganda to the masses. It was a scorched earth approach, to strip his opponent of their entire reason for fighting. He successfully tarnished all that Indy Darling held dear, and through those cracks of doubt and uncertainty, he injected his own feelings of pain and hatred.

The brief exchange before he lost consciousness, looking up into his brother’s rage-filled eyes and saying, “You’re just like me” would forever stand out as one of his proudest moments. Yet for Kurtis, that victory came at a high price. The time it took him to enact his vengeance against his absent father’s memory had cost him precious time with the one person he cherished above all others. His mother passed away in her Hospice room barely a week after, having lost her own war against the cancer that had invaded her body.

The money Senator Carmicheal had paid in exchange for Kurtis’ mercenary work had at least made her comfortable in her final months. It was the kind of comfort that Clive Darling had failed to provide her when she was healthy, but still only a drop in the bucket compared to what could have been.

The dirt covering her grave was still as fresh as the wounds on his body that he’d sustained during Emergence. Somehow, that simple mound of earth caused him more pain than the stitched-up gashes that had been carved into his flesh. His war with Indy had been personal. It had meaning. The match with Blaze, Barrick, and Meatball was fun. It was further practice.

While his self-proclaimed hatred for the business was as real as ever, he’d also let it get under his skin. Like a junkie needing his next fix, Kurtis pondered his future and whether or not professional wrestling would play a part in it. These are the thoughts that crossed his mind as his fingertips caressed the rose petals that stood solemnly above his mother’s grave, as a pair of prying eyes bore a hole through the back of his skull.

“Was it worth it?”

Kurtis didn’t need to turn around to know who had come calling. He had studied his brother long enough to know Indy Darling’s self-righteous tone a mile away.

“I knew it was only a matter of time. I was careful to spread lies about the kind of person my mother really was, but I should have made the location of my upbringing a bit more…obtuse. Still, I suppose this couldn’t be over until we had one last talk.”

Despite his focus remaining on his mother’s grave, Kurtis allowed himself a slight smile.

“Hmph. Then again, I guess this is the first time we’ve actually spoken face-to-face without having to ham it up for the cameras.”

“Was…it…worth it?”

The question came again although it was more demanding in tone the second time around. Kurtis exhaled with a heavy sigh as he pushed himself to his feet and slowly turned, his long coat whipping in the unusually chill spring air.

“Judging from the look on your face, I’d say it was more than worth it. Honestly, it was probably more meaningful for you than it was for me. You finally have some truth in your life. You understand that the man you placed on a pedestal had feet of clay. He was a living, breathing human being, with all the flaws and selfish tendencies that are bred into us.”

“He was your father…”

“Maybe he was, but he sure as hell wasn’t my dad. For you, he was a pillar of morality, an ideal to live up to. For me? He was a ghost that haunted my every waking moment with abandoned potential and could-have-beens. He chose your mother over mine…chose you over me…and then he chose a profession of sin and corruption over all of us. That Clive Darling, he was one hell of a guy.”

Nate dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, but they remained clenched, nonetheless. Kurtis was much more at ease, casually fishing a cigarette from his coat and sliding it between his lips. He was in no hurry to continue the conversation, so he took his time while lighting it up.

“It could have been different. You could have come to me…talked to me. I spent most of my life wishing I had a brother that I could talk to, and instead I got you.”

Kurtis continued to play with the silver lighter in his hand as wisps of smoke escaped between his smiling lips.

“Is this going to turn into another ‘poor Indy Darling’ moment? Because despite my generally serene nature, I really don’t have that kind of patience.”

“I hate you with every ounce of my being. I’ll never forgive you for the things you’ve done. Any chance you had of finding a new family is as dead and buried as your whore of a mother.”

He was trying to goad him into a fight, to make Kurtis feel as angry and bitter as he did. All he received for his effort was a cocked eyebrow.

“I assure you; she was a far cry from the bleak picture I painted. Dearest daddy on the other hand, was every bit the lying, selfish, bastard that I made him out to be. I’m just glad you’ve finally come to accept it so that now we have more in common than a few strands of genetic material. For that, you’re welcome.”

Nate rushed forward, crossing the battle line to reignite the war despite their presence on sacred ground. He only unclenched his fists long enough to grasp Kurtis by the coat collar, pulling him in close.

“Someday…somehow…I’ll find a way to make you hurt more than you could ever imagine!”

Kurtis closed his ice-blue eyes as he raised the cigarette back to his lips.

“Now that’s just dad talking…”

“I’ll fucking kill you! Do you understand that?! You’re dead!”

Nate’s words were like daggers, razor sharp with deadly intent. Kurtis’ were more like a scalpel, precise, yet just as sharp.

“On the contrary, I’ve never felt more alive. Between the two of us, are you sure I’m the one who’s dead?”

If it wasn’t for the hatred burning in his eyes, it would have been like staring into a mirror. Instead, it was more like looking into shattered glass. Nate managed to find his control, to release his grip on Kurtis’ coat, and take a small step backwards.

“This isn’t over. It never will be.”

Kurtis let out another sigh as he reached down to grasp the handle of the bag he’d left laying beside his mother’s grave. He slipped it over his shoulder before taking another drag and calmly responding.

“I assumed as much. Just look me up if you want to have another one of these talks. I might be in California or Colorado. Maybe I’ll spend some time in Mexico or head north of the border. I might even visit the fatherland and spend some time in jolly old England. You know, follow in dad’s footsteps so that I can keep learning all the juicy secrets he kept hidden. I’m sure a man of your resources will have no trouble tracking me down again.”

For Nate, there was nothing left to say. There were no more threats or insults to make. Instead he would bide his time. He would be methodical in his plan of attack, and when the time was right, he’d employ some scorched earth tactics of his own. He turned his back on Kurtis, this man who was more of a twisted doppelganger than a brother, and walked away with a firm belief in his righteousness. Only Kurtis’ parting words gave him a reason to pause.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to go on this little journey of discovery. Maybe you had the potential to be a good man at one point, but someone had to pay for the sins of our father. I’d already paid my share.”

And quickly he's subdued

Through constant pained disgrace

The young boy learns their rules

With time the child draws in

This whipping boy done wrong

Deprived of all his thoughts

The young man struggles on and on, he's known

Ooh, a vow unto his own

That never from this day

His will they'll take away”

ACT 4 - SCENE 2 - ON CAMERA

“ARE YOU THERE, GOD? IT’S ME, JOHNNY”

“Racism is an ugly thing. It’s a vile aspect of humanity that we just can’t seem to escape no matter how many steps forward we take. I can’t end racism, at least not on my own, and Johnny Levy sure as hell can’t do it either. Especially when he falsely accuses someone else of being a racist. Really Johnny, that was the final straw.”

“You were funny at first. Everyone got a good laugh in watching the bumbling, out-of-work actor try to get a handle on the wrestling business. It might have made for a good sitcom and having a little bit of experience in that arena myself, I may have even been happy to help produce it. Unfortunately, just like the Amber Heards and Chris Rocks, you had to push the envelope just a little too far. Now it’s time for the countersuit and for you to keep my name out of your motherfucking mouth.”

“Maybe you thought it would help your cause, to throw fuel on a non-existent fire. When you were lying awake at night after the cocaine had worn off, you probably thought it was a good idea to claim that I was discriminating against you because of your faith, if that’s even your faith at all. I’m not going to use the tired defense of listing all of my friends who are of different backgrounds, races, religions, or sexual orientations. I don’t live in a world of cliches like Hollywood, so that’s just not a path I’m choosing to take.”

“It is true that I’ve developed a significant hatred for you, but it has nothing to do with how you pray, or which god refuses to answer those prayers. I hate you because you’ve taken the gift that I’ve given you, that worldwide platform called Project: Honor, and you’re using it to besmirch my good name.”

“I’ll be the first to admit that Indy Darling is a character I’ve crafted using a lifetime of experience. He’s the face I put on when I stepped through those curtains, when I needed to get the fix that only a crowd’s reaction could satisfy. I may have outgrown Indy Darling, but I didn’t spend years creating his persona to have a desperate jobber ruin his good name with false claims of racism.”

“That’s why I treated your bleached-blonde head like a nasty spider that crawled out of the corner during Proving Ground. You were so desperate for my attention, to get the rub that someone of my stature could provide, that you were practically asking to be hurt. Maybe you’re just a masochist on some level, although I really hope that’s not the case. Imagining you pitching a tent in your tights while I was bashing your skull in is the last mental image I need in my life.”

“No matter the reason, you’ve finally gotten exactly what you wanted. You get to share my spotlight, a light that didn’t burn out when I was twelve years old. I’m not just going to sprinkle a little bit of Indy dust on you to push you to the next level, I’m going to coat you in that shit and make your name live forever. I’m your ticket to immortality, Johnny, but just like the old man who suffers in solitude as the world dies around him, you should have been careful what you wished for.”

ACT 5 - SCENE 1 - ON CAMERA

“POSTMORTEM”

That goddamn smile. That friendly laugh. Those sparkling eyes. Clive Darling was a vision to behold, a man who was going to set the wrestling world on fire. Then he got in his own way. He caved into the peer pressure like an abandoned coal mine whose support beams had long rotted away. He took the pills and washed them down. He found comfort in the arms of a woman who was not his wife. He forsook the women who loved him, the children who needed him, and the morality that had shaped him. Instead he chased a dream that he would never reach, leaving behind a dead body in the ring that would haunt his son’s memory and a colossal legend that no man could ever live up to without breaking under its massive weight.

“He’s the one to leave a lasting impression on this business, the one to do something meaningful, ya’ know? He’s gonna do great things, this boy of mine. No doubt about it. He’s the one.”

“He’s the one.”



“On some level, I pity Johnny Levy. I know firsthand what it’s like to live your life under a shroud of expectations. I understand how it feels to fight your way out of that shadow. I’ve spent a long time…too goddamn long…trying to live up to something intangible. It’s not an easy path to take, whether Johnny set those expectations himself or someone else did it for him. We’ll probably never know, because he’s too superficial to let anyone peek behind the curtain. For that, I commend him.”

“Indy Darling was too open, wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see. He liked making people happy and he always tried to do the right thing no matter the personal cost. He offered supportive words, a friendly shoulder, and was giving with his time and energy. He loved the fans and they loved him in return. He respected his peers, and with only a few exceptions, that respect was returned in kind. He had the heart of a warrior and the courage of a lion. He would stand up for the little guy, put his weight behind charitable causes, and speak up for what he believed in when other voices fell silent.”

“In the words of Colton Saint, Zane, Dickie Watson, Julius Fairweather, Mark Hunter, and others, Indy Darling was a good man.”

“Then I killed him.”

That goddamn smile. That disingenuous laugh. That vile disgust creeping out from behind his eyes. This Media Darling is a vision to behold and he’s going to set the wrestling world on fire. Whether they like it or not.

“Indy wasn’t killed off by one of his merciless opponents. He wasn’t battered into submission by some vicious shoot or a physical pummeling. He was laid to rest by a better version of himself. In his place is a man who will proudly lead Project: Honor into the future with a vision unlike any who have come before. That man is Nathaniel Demetrius Carmichael, a true Media Darling, creative genius, and finely tuned physical specimen. I am everything Indy was and more, without the naivete or the crushing need to please everyone all of the time.”

“So, I’ve already done the hard part for you, Johnny. I have slain the beast and left his corpse rotting in the sun. Now all you have to do is bury him, but it’s more than likely you won’t even be able to do that right. You can bring a truckload of golden shovels, a fleet of bulldozers, and the entire gravedigger’s union and it still won’t be enough. The only useful thing you can bring at this point is Giovanni, so that at least he can craft a beautiful epitaph in your memory.”

“You’re already in over your head, like a Hollywood Whack-a-Mole peeking out of the grave so I can take one final shot. The least I can do is fill in that open pit so that it’s over your head both figuratively and literally. I’m good like that. In fact, you could even say I’m the best. Because I’m The Media Darling…and that’s not just good enough…it’s better than the rest.”

DIRECTED BY THE MEDIA DARLING

AND STARRING THE MEDIA DARLING

OFF CAMERA

“I’m proud of you, you know that, right? He’d be proud of you too. You’re doing exactly what needs to be done, right down to the letter. They’re going to curse your name, try to make you the fool, but we both know that you are exactly what you want to be. What you need to be.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you. Probably more than you can imagine.”

“It’s my pleasure, son. Just stay strong. Levy will only be the first of many, and you’ll need that strength in the weeks and months to come.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good lad. You’re going to do great things, there’s no doubt about it. You’re the one, Nate.”

“You’re the one.”

He'll rekindle all the dreams; it took you a lifetime to destroy

He'll reach deep into the hole, heal your shrinking soul

But there won't be a single thing that you can do

He's a god, he's a man, he's a ghost, he's a guru

They're whispering his name through this disappearing land

But hidden in his coat is a red right hand”