**The restaurant's private hall sits as pristine clean as it was the day it was built. It appears that it has never been used. In the center of it, a single folding chair where Stan Deville sits, elbows on knees, holding onto a list of matches for Endgame.**

HighOne vs Stan Deville for the Transcontinental Championship

**Stan stares at the piece of paper & it explodes into a ball of flames, then in a whoosh, like the air just left the room, it is gone from his hands with not a single trace of it having ever existed.**

Stan-"Highone...count yourself fortunate that I am unable to unveil myself before the crowd of prying eyes. That was your only saving grace. Next time I'll just kill you before the match even begins."

**Stan brings the tips of his fingers together & slowly presses until the palms of his hands are pressed together. His knuckles crack & he smiles briefly. He closes his eyes & then slowly opens them. Looking down at his hands, he is holding another piece of paper, this time for the current matches.**

Drakus v RDV v Stan Deville in a Hangman's Match

**Stan grins.**

Stan-"RDV...the king of unfulfilled potential. And Drakus...young angst reborn over & over again."

**He stands up.**

Stan-"These two won't know what hit them."

**Stan walks out the of the private dining room & into the public eating section of the restaurant. People go about their late lunches, early dinners or snacks as he passes by. No one pays attention to the man in the black 3 piece suit with the blood red tie. That's ok. They'll recognize him when it's time. So will Drakus & RDV.**

fadeout

"No, it's nothing, believe me -- I've had a lot worse. Wait and see, by Friction I'll be better than ever."

RDV grins as he flexes for the female fans surrounding him on the Florida beach. Sure, he may have lost to David Hardy at Endgame, but someone who's been in this business as long as Rob Dat Van knows that a loss is nothing more than a temporary setback. Every show is another chance to turn things around, at at the next show it's going to be RDV showing everyone why he's stayed strong in the fed for so many years.

RDV: "Hardy came out on top this time, but those Infinity guys' egos are bound to get 'em in trouble sooner or later. Trust me, I've seen 'em come and I've seen 'em go, and those guys are headed for a big fall."

One long-haired Latina, no more than 21, strokes RDV's arm.

Girl: "Is it true you're going against two guys in your next match?"

RDV: "That's what I hear. I don't who I'm up against, but a triple threat just means more chances to win. Match like that, you've gotta be smart to survive, and nobody in 411 today has more ring experience than RDV. Whoever they are, they won't know what hit 'em."

The girl suddenly releases her grip on RDV's arm. She backs away, wide-eyed, as a shadow falls over RDV.

Drakus: "Big talk for a worthless old man."

RDV turns slowly, cautious but not showing any fear. He looks over Drakus for several seconds before recognition dawns on his face.

RDV: "Ah, the big bad rookie, monster of the month. What's your name ... Drago?"

The larger man crowds RDV, trying to make him back away, but RDV stands his ground.

Drakus: "Name's Drakus, loser, but you can call me 'pain.'"

RDV: "Is that your boyfriend's pet name for you?"

Several of the swimwear-clad fans around RDV laugh nervously, along with RDV himself.

Drakus: "Go ahead, laugh now, you'll be screaming soon enough."

RDV cocks an eyebrow and sighs.

RDV: "Wow, you're a scary guy. I guess I should be filling my pants about now."

Drakus: "You might before I'm done with you."

RDV: "Oh really?"

Drakus: "Really."

RDV can't help but roll his eyes.

RDV: "Yeah, well, you can save the rest of the act for somebody who's gonna be impressed. I've seen dozens of tough guys pass through the fed, and they stopped intimidating me a long time ago."

Drakus tries to speak, and RDV cuts him off.

RDV: "I know, you're my opponent at Friction, got it. And this is you trying to psyche me out, get me lookin' over my shoulder, off balance, make me sweat."

Drakus: "Smart guy."

RDV: "I know the angles, and the one you're playing was ancient when I was wet behind the ears. Thing is, they don't work on somebody who knows exactly what you're doing and why."

Drakus' nostrils are flaring.

Drakus: "You saying you're not scared?"

RDV: "Of what? Who've you beaten? Badboy and a couple of rookies? Maybe that's a big deal to you, but to me you're just another hotshot kid puffing out his chest and making a big noise trying to make a name for himself. And I'm not gonna let you use me to make it."

Drakus: "Don't be so sure ..."

Drakus lunges for RDV, but the veteran anticipates his future opponent's attack. A simple shoulder throw uses Drakus' own momentum to send him tumbling hard into the sand.

RDV: "See what I mean? Your kind always follows the same playbook."

The beginnings of a fight attracts a larger crowd. Spectators are mumbling and pointing, some texting friends or taking pictures with their cellphones. One even trains a camcorder on the two wrestlers. Drakus, now in a three-point stance, growls and launches himself at RDV. RDV avoids the sloppy takedown attempt, catching Drakus' leg and applying an ankle lock. Drakus writhes in the sand, kicking and screaming as he tries to break the hold.

RDV: "Back down right now or I snap it!"

Drakus stops struggling and holds up his arms in defeat. RDV releases the rookie's ankle and takes a step back, assuming a defensive posture.

RDV: "Now get the hell outta here, rookie."

The spectators on the beach shout and cheer for RDV. Drakus, red-faced, picks himself up, hobbling slightly to keep the weight off his now injured ankle. He begins to turn away from RDV, who now sports a grin thanks to the enthusiastic response of the crowd. The young lady holding his arm before is back, beaming at the wrestler, who can't keep his eyes off her either.

RDV: "Thank you, thank you, hope to see you all at Friction ..."

Suddenly, Drakus whips around, and with his left hand tosses a clump of sand into RDV's face. While RDV is momentarily blinded, Drakus closes the distance between them and drives his belt-wrapped right hand into the still tender ribs of the 411 veteran. The jabs drive the air from RDV's lungs and double him over. Drakus grabs the back of RDV's head, pushing it down into his rising knee. The blow leaves RDV lying face-down in the sand, vision blurred and ears ringing. Drakus delivers a few kicks to the ribs with his uninjured leg for good measure.

Drakus: "We'll see what you have to say after I hang you at Friction, old man!"

RDV: "Hang ... ?"

He coughs, tasting blood and sand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AFTER MIDNIGHT

Drakus slowly awakes to the feeling of something pressing down on him. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he sees a human shape hover over him, perched on the bed vulture-like.

Drakus: "What the fu ..."

A hand clamps down on Drakus' mouth. The man in the black suit grins as he restrains the larger man.

Stan DeVille: "Does this scenario seem all too familar, Drakus?"

Drakus' mind flashes on his kidnapping of Paul "Jaguar" Mancini. He'd ambushed the young wrestler in his hotel room. Now Drakus finds himself helpless at an intruder's hands. DeVille's blood-red tie dangles down, brushing against Drakus' chest. Drakus struggles, and DeVille clamps a hand over his nose as well as his mouth. Almost a half-minute later, Drakus stops struggling. DeVille gives him some air as a reward.

DeVille: "There, that's better. You fascinate me, such pure hatred. With the right direction, the right focus, there are no limits to what you could achieve."

Through the hand over his mouth, Drakus mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "I'm going to rip your fucking arms off." Stan chuckles at the idle threat.

DeVille: "But I also know what that hatred masks, the deeper insecurity and pain. Oh yes, I know all about your losses, all about your suffering. But I promise you, even your exceptionally sadistic mind cannot fathom the suffering that will befall those who attempt to thwart my will. Now, I think I'll be generous and allow you the privilege of asking me one question -- but if you're not respectful, we'll find out how long your body can go without air before you lose consciousness, and possibly more."

DeVille removes his hand from Drakus' mouth.

Drakus: "What do you want?"

DeVille wipes his hand on the bedsheet.

DeVille: "I witnessed your little display with Mr. Dat Van. You see, I've been watching you. And I am most impressed by your fervent devotion to violence. But I want to demonstrate that any attempt to do the same to me would be a fatal mistake. You see, there are no doors, no locks, no prayers that can protect you if I decide to come for you. And if you try to treat me the way you've become accustomed to treating others, I will come for you."

Drakus is silent. The smug bastard has to release him to leave, and when he does ...

DeVille: "You'd better practice holding your breath. There's no telling how long you'll dangle from the noose."

The pressure on Drakus' limbs lessens. He tenses, readying himself to strike, when DeVille makes a strange hand gesture. A burst of flame erupts, seemingly from nowhere. Drakus screams as the fire comes within inches of his eyes. He rolls off the bed, hands clutched to his face, momentarily not even registering that he is free. Drakus slowly removes his hands. He can still see.

Drakus: "Motherfu ..."

The smell of something burning stops Drakus. He turns, and sees the sheets of his bed now on fire. In a panic, Drakus manages to smother the flames before they grow out of control. The room is filled with smoke when he turns the lights on. The windows are closed, the door locked, and DeVille is nowhere to be found. A few minutes later the staff is banging on the door, demanding to know what's going on. Drakus doesn't have an answer.

RDV is recovering at the nearby Tiki bar, late into the night. It's funny what a couple of lovely young ladies and a Michelob or three can do for the recovery powers of any man.

RDV: Lemme tell yoooooou ladies! He may have ahgaaaaaaatten me this afternooooon...but at FRICTION! (raises glass and jumps on the bar) It's a whole other story ladies!

The ladies smile and nod at RDV, partially feeling sorry for him. They convince him that it's time to retire to their summer cottage and as they help RDV out of the bar, the bartender calls out to them.

Bartender: Hey! Who the hell is paying this tab!

The ladies try and keep RDV away. They try and grab his wallet and toss the credit card to the bartender. But RDV is too into the experience of having a bikini-clad Latina reaching into his pocket.

RDV: Woah woah woah! Let's get back to your place for that! Barkeep! This should cover everybody!

Rob tosses a pile of $100's at the bar. A couple make it there. Another 5 hit the floor and patrons begin rushing to get them. The three leave the chaos for the quiet blue cottage 40 yards away. Sherri, the one with the bronze tan, pushes the door open as Jackie holds up the slowly-fading RDV. She looks up as she takes Rob through the doorway and then almost runs into Sherri.

She's standing in shock. Then Jackie drops RDV to the floor. The dark house is lit by a mysterious presence in the middle of the small living room, standing amidst the kegs and beer pong cups.

Stan DeVille is smiling broadly. He was here to talk to Rob, but it doesn't appear that will be possible for a little while. He had no problem keeping these ladies company until Rob came to.

But Rob had to come about soon. They had to have a little discussion.

SD: Well well well...(crouches down to RDV) Rob? (slap) ROB! (slap) ROOOOOOB! Hmm. Well, he's out. Could one of you put on a pot of coffee? I have a feeling we'll be waiting a while-

Jackie: Who in the hell are you, and how did you get into our house!?!?!?

SD: Oh, I'm Stan DeVille. My friends call me Stan.

Sherri: Look, just take what you want and get out. You can have him! We just wanted his wallet! Just leave us alone!

SD: (laughs) I like your style. And it's obvious that you both have the...tools...to be able to pull such a stunt off.

Jackie: GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR HOUSE!

She charges at Stan, but by the time she reaches him he has disappeared. She and Sherri freak out, wondering where he's gone, and why there is a circle of flame in his place.

SD: (Behind them both, on the staircase) Ladies?

Their jaws drop to the floor, and they grab each other in fear. Stan rolls his eyes and slowly walks down the creaky wood staircase. The only other sound is the ocean lapping the shore in the distance. Stan steps over the snoring RDV and heads over to the ladies, who are unable to grasp what they have just seen.

Stan goes behind Jackie and brushes the hair away from her right ear. He takes in a sniff and begins to whisper...

SD: The coffee, miss.

Camera fades

Jackie shivers in fear as she runs into the kitchen. A solitary bulb lights the meager appliances, and she has trouble fumbling through the cabinets to find the coffee. She reaches behind the salt and flour to find the large aluminum tin. Being in college, having a cottage on the beach meant a lot of drinking. And a lot of hangovers. Coffee was key in their recovery.

As she scooped the grains into the filter she looked back into the living room. Sherri was standing against the wall below the staircase, as Stan knealt next to Rob. He held his face in his right hand, rotating his skull to try and make out any significant injuries from his fall.

Sherri: What do you want?

Stan stares back at her with a set of cold, agonizing eyes.

Stan: I want Rob. He has some very important information that I need to know.

Sherri: Well you can take him. Heck, you can even have his wallet! We just don't want any trouble-

Stan: Which there won't be if you cooperate with me. (To Jackie) WHERE'S THE COFFEE?!?!?

Jackie: It's almost ready.

Stan smiled a bit and asked Sheri to help him lift Rob onto the nearby futon. They each put one of Rob's arms around their necks and carried him to the black futon, lying him down across it. Sherri propped up his head under a pillow as Jackie brought the coffee into the room.

Jackie: How do you li-

Stan: Black. Very black. Thank you...

Stan knelt down next to Rob's head, while the two ladies sat tentatively on the loveseat across the room. Stan smiled as he looked at Rob, knowing that he could play such a pivotal role in all this. Stan wanted to get right down to business.

He did so by tossing the hot coffee onto Rob's face.

Needless to say, this got Rob awake pretty quick.

RDV: AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!! WHA HAPP...Wha?...AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!

Jackie: What the hell did you do that for!?!?!?!?

Stan: I needed to wake him up!! You want me out, don't you?

Sherri: Just don't hurt him here! We don't want to cause any trouble.

Stan stared at them both, shaking uncontrollably on the loveseat, as RDV wriggled in pain/drunkenness on the futon. Stan tossed his mug onto him as he stood up and walked determinedly towards the women, who feared they were next. Stan smiled in their fear, and bent down, to speak to them very closely.

And very carefully. He only said one word.

Stan: FINE.

He slowly turned back to Rob, who was still a mess. Stan crossed his arms and shook his head. He was going to have to do this the hard way. He grabbed RDV by his right leg and began dragging him to the door.

RDV: You...bastard...DeVille...my face! My beautiful beautiful face!

There wasn't really anything RDV could do. He couldn't see, and he couldn't stand, a result of 2 bad situations. Stan made sure the street was clear, which it was for so late at night, and dragged Rob down the 3 front concrete steps to his car. He got out the key, hit a button on the keychain, and the trunk opened. He tossed Rob in and then closed the lid, as if he was hauling luggage. The women stood horrified in the doorway as they could hear drunken ramblings from the trunk.

As he got in the car, Stan stared at the women. He said nothing.

As he sped away, he didn't have to.



Camera fades.