:::::BEGIN VIDEO TRANSMISSION:::::
Music Cue: “Mission Impossible Theme”
[The camera slowly fades in, although at first it is somewhat difficult to tell. The reason? It’s nighttime, and the area we are in is very poorly illuminated. In fact, other than a faint Hawaiian moon in the distance, the only illumination is that of a flashlight. Once our eyes have adjusted to the conditions, we see that we are crouched down within a small group of shrubs. A young man of about 20 years old squats directly in front of us. He is dressed in a blue & red Fed Ex courier uniform. He also has black grease paint smeared on his cheeks and forehead. He looks around nervously, his breathing heavy. Under his left arm is tucked a white Fed Ex envolope. He carries the aforemention flashlight in his right hand. After a few tense seconds, he props himself up on one knee, peering out through the bushes, then back at the camera.]
FedEx Guy: [in a soft whisper] Are we ready?
Camera Guy: We are a go.
FedEx Guy: Okay. Synchronizing… it is currently 23 hundred hours and 47 minutes. Let’s deploy.
[The courier slides the envelope from under his arm and cradles it like a football in his left hand, turning off the flashlight with his right hand. He then springs into action, parting a wall of branches with his forearms and launching himself out into the clear. The camera follows, the branches smacking off the lense as it busts through the bushes. We are now in an open field, the Fed Ex carrier running low to the ground roughly ten feet ahead of us. He continually looks back over his shoulder at our position and motioning with the flashlight for us to follow. Our view is shaky and erratic as the camera man scampers across the grass, trying to keep pace. Ahead, at about fifty yards, is a building. First glance indicates it’s probably a motel. Two stories high, the face of each level is dotted by a series of red doors and curtained picture windows. Track lighting runs along the ceiling of a slight overhang, engulfing the area in front of the motel with artificial light and attracting a heck of a lot of bugs. Another small line of shrubs runs parallel to the building, and the Fed Ex guy, reaching the wall of greenery, ducks down behind it, signaling us to join him. We do. Both he and the camera man are now panting after their quick jaunt across the field.]
FedEx Guy: That’s it. [motioning to the third door from the right] Room number 113. The target is just behind that door.
[As the camera heaves up and down with each gasp of the winded camera operator, the Fed Ex courier clicks on the flashlight and scans the surface of the envelope one final time. His face is extremely serious, with perhaps even a hint of danger. He flicks of the light.]
FedEx Guy: Here we go. No prisoners.
[With that, he stands quickly and hurdles himself over the shrubbery and onto the cemented patio. The camera attempts the same manouver but apparently fails to clear the hedge cleanly. Our view stumbles forward a bit, but the camera man manages to regain his footing in time, without dropping the device. Both men now move stealthily towards the door marked 113. Once outside the door, the camera takes a position directly in front but back a few steps and low. The Fed Ex guy, standing like a DEA agent about to bust in on a crack house, stands to the left of the door, his back against the wall. He reaches out with his left arm and raps on the door three times.]
*knock* *knock* *knock*
[He crouches a bit now and waits. There is no repsonse. He holds his position for roughly ten seconds, all the while shooting nervous glances at the camera. He then nods his head up and down v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, in an “affirmative” motion, apparently reacting to a hand signal given him by the camera man. Again he reaches out with his left arm and raps, this time harder, on the door.]
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
[Suddenly, a light goes on within the room as yellow light peaks out of the cracks in the curtain. The courier tenses himself and prepares for attack. Within a few seconds, the door opens, and Devo Tremors presents himself in the doorway. He was apparently asleep, as only one eye is currently open and his appearance is VERY tattered. His hair is heading in eight different directions and he is shirtless, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Once he’s in view, the Fed Ex guy springs to his feet and presents the envelope to Devo.]
FedEx Guy: [speaking very quickly and attempting to sound official] Good evening, sir. Sorry to bother you at this late hour. I have an urgent package and require an immediate signature before I can remand it to your custody.
[Seemingly out of nowhere, he produces a pen and a small slip of paper, and presents both for Devo’s use. Devo, confused by the bright lights, the late hour, and the overly-official manner of the courier (saying nothing of course of the camera or grease paint), reluctantly takes the pen and scrawls his name in the appropriate space on the form. He hands the pen back to the courier, who disposes of it as quickly as he produced it. The courier tears a carbon copy of the form from the back and hands it to Devo.]
FedEx Guy: Thank you, sir. Here is your receipt and your package. Have a good evening. [he hands the envelope to Devo as well and quickly turns to head out] Let’s go!
[He passes by the camera, leaping over the hedge. The camera turns and follows, again barely clearing the shrubs and moving a few strides over the field before turning and establishing a shot of Devo, standing dumbfounded in the doorway. The “Mission Impossible” music swells to peak before both it and the camera extinguish in a flury.]
[A view from inside the motel room. Directly in front of us is Devo, or rather his back, as he stands in the doorway. The room is lit by a large desk lamp situated on a table near the picture window, which itself is to the right of the door. A queen sized bed extends out from the wall to our right while an oak dresser rests against the wall to our left. Devo turns around, shutting the door as he re-enters the room. He stares down at the envelope with a look of confusion, partly because he’s still half-asleep.]
Devo: [out loud to himself] What the heck was that all about?
Camera Guy #2: [catching Devo completey off-guard] I believe they were filming for a pilot episode of a new reality based television show.
[Devo is completly surprised by the camera man’s presence at first, but a look of resignation crosses his face once he realizes it is in fact, only a camera crew, despite the fact that it is nearly midnight and he has no idea how they got in.]
Devo: Oh. What show?
Camera Guy #2: Delivery 911, I believe it was called. Sort of a ‘COPS’ knock-off, only this time, they follow around parcel people. I don’t think it’ll get picked up.
[He flops himself down on the foot of the bed and begins to tear open the envelope. He pours the contents in his lap, revealing an unlabeled videotape and series of papers. He begins to read the papers out loud, although at a barely audible level. Basically, he does this in order to help himself read and as such, we hear only fragments of the actual letter.]
Devo: Dear, Devo, this letter is to inform you…… upcoming match…… teamed with Khalid al-Kazim…… [a look of mild surprise crosses the young man’s face] ……opponents…… Doman Scwahling and Nez Perce…… winning team to face off against each other…… Cruiserweight Championship…… May –th at Trouble In Paradise…… enclosed find necessary background…… recent promotional video segments for Perce and Schwahling…… contact and training information relating to al-Kazim…… best of luck…… appreciate a better showing than last time? What’s that supposed to mean?
[He drops the pages back onto his lap and rubs his eyes with his fists, followed by an elaborate stretch and yawn. Afterwards, he shakes his head back-and-forth vigorously, as if clearing any lingering cob webs from his brain.]
Devo: Jeez. A week ago they had me squaring off against this psychopath, and like, now they want me to team with him? I don’t get these guys at all, you know. Now, not only do I have to contend with this Magnum guy just so I can get a shot a facing him later, but I got to form another temporary allegiance with Khalid in order to get a shot at beating him for the cruiserweight title. [scratching his head] This is wicked confusing. Whatever happened to just plain old, one on one, man vs man, you know? Oh well, I guess this is the way they do things in Hawaii.
[He rises from the bed, gathering up the contents of the package and discarding them on a nearby table. He passes by the camera, going off left, and we hear a door shut, followed by the sound of running water. The camera slowly fades out.]
On screen image:
45 MINUTES LATER
[Another slow fade in, again inside the motel room. It is apparently still late at night as the curtains are drawn and no daylight is seen peeking in. In fact, the only light in the room comes from a television set, which is off to our left and angled slightly away from us. We are sitting parallel to the bed, where Devo Tremors sits, his head propped up by a mountain of hard feather pillows (you know the kind, those lead balloons that hotels use). He is asleep, as indicated by the tilted head, closed eyes, and stream of drool making it’s way down his chin. The occasional snore is another indication. The television emits a soft, steady stream of snowy fuzz, both in light and sound. The papers from earlier are spread out over the bed. We see the camera man’s arm reach up and smack Devo upside the head in an attempt to wake the dozing lad.]
Camera Guy #2: Wake up!
Devo: [awakening suddenly, perhaps too soon] But I don’t wanna be the bottle cap. I wanna be the piece of glass…
[He jolts upright and through slitted eyes surveys the room. Noticing the camera off to his left, he swings his head in it’s direction and offers a slight grin.]
Devo: Oh. It’s you.
Camera Guy #2: Look, I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass, but I gotta have this thing in by 6 am. Any chance you could speed this up?
Devo: Sure. Like, no problem.
[Again with a yawn and a stretch, a rubbing of the eyes, and this time, for added punctuation, a rather large belch.]
Devo: Excuse me. Musta been all that soda I drank to try and stay awake.
[On cue, the camera shifts slightly to the right, encapsuling a small pile of 6 or so soda cans stacked on a bedside table.]
Camera Guy #2: Yeah, well, maybe if you drank something a little stronger than caffeine-free Coke, it would have worked. Now c’mon, kid, I gotta get home too.
Devo: Right. Sorry. Let’s see… where to begin?
[Devo sits up a little more solidly and sweeps the papers that were strewn about his lap onto the rest of the bed. He swings his legs off of the bed’s side and props himself up about a foot-and-a-half from the camera.]
Camera Guy #2: What are your feelings about teaming with al-Kazim?
Devo: Well, I was really hoping to get a rematch with him first, but like, that’ll have to wait.
Camera Guy #2: Do you feel as though you can trust him?
Devo: You know, I’m not sure. He says he don’t care about titles and such, so winning probably ain’t a priority for him. But I don’t think he’d have any reason to wanna hurt me any more than Schwahling or Perce. So I guess I can trust him to do his share, you know.
Camera Guy #2: Any hard feelings on your part, as far as the loss to him and Schwahling?
Devo: Well, you know, it was kind of embarassing. But it was my fault, you know. I like, I let Exene Schwahling be a distraction, and it cost me. I’m young. I’m gonna make mistakes. But I don’t wanna make ’em again, so I think I can focus on Doman and Nez and wait for my revenge on Khalid.
Camera Guy #2: What about the whole Schwahling situation? First there was the incident with Doman trying to make you look bad by hiring an imposter to portray you for a run-in, then there was Exene stepping in during the three-way. Is there bad blood there?
Devo: Beats me. I didn’t get into this business to make enemies, you know. He seemed to want to disregard me at first, but I guess maybe he was just scared. I don’t know. I don’t think of myself as being all that much of a threat. I can wrestle, but I’m not out to scare anybody. He likes to call people names and pick fights. Maybe he thought I’d be a push-over and he’d be able to look good if he squashed me, you know. No such luck.
Camera Guy #2: And Exene? Is there something deeper there?
Devo: What do you mean by deeper?
Camera Guy #2: Any underlying hatred or animosity?
Devo: Not on my part. I mean, really, the thing at Luau that night was pretty much like, her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I got thrown out of the ring and she was like, there to catch me, you know. I really didn’t mean to hit her. I’m sorry I did. But she seems tough enough.
Camera Guy #2: There have been rumors that the humiliation of having her slap you on national TV scarred you. That it may have left some permanent damage. Any truth to that?
Devo: I lost the match because of it, sure. I’ll admit, it threw me for a loop. So like, sure, it was embarassing. And yeah, I was kind of out of it for a couple of days afterwards, but I think I’m over it now, you know.
Camera Guy #2: You think?
Devo: Well, hey, I’m new here, and I guess for some reason people were, heck ARE, expecting big things from me. I don’t want to let them down, you know. And like, something like that, it doesn’t help an image.
Camera Guy #2: Did you consider hitting her back?
Devo: No. I wouldn’t do that. It’s cowardly.
Camera Guy #2: Even though she’s, as you said yourself, ‘tough enough’?
Devo: I’d never hit a woman. It ain’t right.
Camera Guy #2: I’ve noticed you’ve seemed a little more comfortable in front of the camera lately. Any significance there?
Devo: Just experience, I guess. I was nervous at first because, well like, I’m not really ‘well spoken’, you know. Plus I’m really, really tired right now
Camera Guy #2: That should do it.
[With that, Devo flops backwards on the bed and is asleep almost instantly. The camera fades out slowly one final time.]
:::::END VIDEO TRANSMISSION:::::