Post by Damon Graves on Nov 12, 2017 17:02:49 GMT -5
Graves Residence
Present Day
Scene opens with Damon and Aurora Graves going around their home, taking down their Halloween decorations. Aurora is standing on a small stepladder, taking down various pieces while Damon packs them neatly in a box at his feet.
Aurora: It’s always a little sad to take down the Halloween stuff….
Damon: We can’t keep it up year round, hon. Otherwise, this place would look like something out of “The Munsters”...
Aurora: Would that be so bad?
Damon: Our neighbors already think we’re weirdos….
Aurora: And your point is?
Damon shakes his head and laughs.
Aurora: Did you bring in the box of decorations my parents sent over?
Damon: Yeah, it’s in the other room…
Aurora: We’re almost done getting this stuff down, so could you bring it in?
Damon: Sure thing…
He leaves Aurora alone for a moment, returning shortly with a second box. After setting it down, he opens it up and rummages around for a bit. He pulls out a staple in early childhood art projects: a hand drawn picture of a turkey. As he holds it in his hand, his face suddenly goes blank.
**Home of Anna and Martin Graves**
November, 1998
In the kitchen, Anna Graves is cooking dinner when a young Damon Graves comes bounding into the kitchen.
Damon: Mommy! Look what I made in school today!
Anna turns away from the stove to see her son holding up a picture of a turkey that he drew. Even at a young age, there were signs of his artistic talent.
Anna: Oh, honey, it’s beautiful. Let me put this up on the fridge….
She herds Damon over to the refrigerator and has him hold the artwork up to the door while she secures it with a magnet.
Anna: Now, Mommy needs to finish dinner…
Before she can finish her sentence, her husband and Damon’s father, Martin, storms into the room.
Martin: God damn it, Anna! Dinner isn’t ready yet?
Anna: It’s going to be about ten minutes before I’m done.
Martin sniffs the air.
Martin: Doesn’t matter. Smells like shit, anyway….
Anna: Martin! How many times have I told you to watch your language around Damon?
Martin: This is MY house, and I’ll say what I fucking WANT to…
He spins around and heads for the fridge. Seeing the artwork attached to the door, he scoffs.
Martin: What the hell is this crap?
Anna: Damon made that in school today…
Martin: Whatever…
He yanks it off the door and lets it fall to the floor.
Anna: Why did you do that? I think it’s beautiful, especially since our son made it.
Martin: Which proves that you have no taste…
Anna: Just remember, I chose you….
Martin looks at his wife, an expression of pure contempt carved into his face.
Martin: You, and a dozen other girls….
His words hit Anna like a slap to the face. She can’t do anything but stare at him in shock at his callous words. Finally, she shakes her head.
Anna: You unbelievable bastard…
Martin: And you get on my ass over language…. The only reason I'm still here is the fact that your father would kill me if I abandoned you and that little mistake over there…
Anna: Damon is NOT a mistake!
While his parents are fighting in front him, young Damon just stands there, his expression worsening with each passing second. Unable to take any more, here lets out a cry and runs out of the kitchen. As soon as Damon is out of sight, Anna glares at Martin, gesturing in the direction Damon left.
Anna: See what you did?
Martin: Let the little baby cry. He's never gonna amount to a fucking thing in life, anyway.
Anna: Not with you as a father, he won't…
Martin doesn't say a word. Nudging his wife aside, he goes over to the stove, and without warning, heaves the pot and its contents against the wall. Anna can only stand there, shocked at the sudden outburst. Martin stops on his way out of the kitchen.
Martin: I'm going out to get some REAL food. Clean this shit up by the time I get back.
And with that, he leaves.
**Present Day**
Damon stares at the paper in his left hand, fury blazing in his eyes. His right hand is clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles are white.
Aurora: Damon?
Damon turns around to look at his wife, yet his expression hasn't changed. The rage contorting his features make her gasp. This immediately breaks his reverie and wakes him up. Seeing the concern on his wife’s face, he drops the paper and hurriedly leaves the room, muttering apologies.
Irving Mayfield’s Jazz Playhouse
New Orleans, Louisiana
We find Damon sitting by himself at the bar, a mostly-finished order of Roast Beef Debris Cheese Fries in front of him.
Damon: Well, Alex, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?
The last time you and me were in the same ring together, it was in the finals of the Lethal Lottery tournament back in #FSociety. We were on opposing teams, and it was pretty damned apparent that you and I were going to be the workhorses of our teams. Your partners were content to let you do all the work, but they were smart enough to keep me from tagging out to my partners. In the end, I wound up with the triple whammy: a face full of mist, a stiff kick to the back of the head, and then a quick head first trip to the mat. Looking back on it, I would have had a much different mindset. Instead of being motivated by an opportunity to advance my career, I was focussed on getting a measure of revenge for a man that isn’t worth pissing on if he were on fire. But one thing I did walk away from that match with was a grudging respect for you, man. I may not have liked you very much, but you made me work my ass off, and that’s never a bad thing...
A lot has changed since that time….
Damon stops for a moment, and takes another bite of his fries.
Damon: I’m a little bit older, and I’d like to think, a little bit wiser. I’m on a new career path, one that I can only hope pays off. Rebel Ink is on hiatus, so now the world can see that I’m a hell of a lot more than some inked-up joke.
The way I see it, you don't need to win this match as much as I do. Your reputation is already cemented. What do you really gain out of beating me? Another notch in the win column? It's not as if I'm regarded as that much of a threat…. And that's EXACTLY why I need to defeat you, Jones. And not some fluke win, like kicking you in the nuts or getting you counted out. No, it needs to be clean and it needs to be decisive. If there's any shred of doubt about the outcome of this match, then I've wasted my fucking time.
So, at Dissension, the mutual admiration society will adjourn and as our little slice of the night's action gets underway, and if there's any thought in your head about having an easy evening, you'd best leave them in the dressing room. Otherwise, I'm going to enjoy proving you wrong. You may be a multiple time world champion, but I won't let that intimidate me. I need to break away from the rest of the pack, because if I don't, I'll wind up languishing in career limbo forever, and I am NOT going to let that happen. If you can deal with that, great. If not… well, then it sucks to be you….
By this time, Aurora Graves makes her way over to the bar.
Aurora: Are you still working on that?
Damon points over at the camera.
Aurora: Ah… promo?
Damon: Promo.
Aurora: Well, we need to meet up with Hannah.
He checks his watch.
Damon: We still have plenty of time.
Aurora: Yeah, I know.
Aurora looks past Damon to the plate of fries.
Aurora: Are you going to eat that?
Without waiting for Damon to answer, she reaches over and digs in.
Damon: Didn’t you have a shrimp Po’ Boy earlier?
Aurora: Yeah… around the same time YOU did!
She giggles as she swipes another fry from his plate and the scene fades out.
