The bar is small and windowless, wood paneled walls crawling all the way to the the exposed rafters and intricate cities of cobwebs. I breathe in deeply; stale beer and old blood. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and bad memories. This isn't the type of place where good things happen.

NATHAN: Jesus. Where did you bring me?

DUSTIN: You said you didn't want to wear that stupid mask anymore. If you don't want to be recognized, this is the place to be.

JEREMY: We said we didn't want to be recognized. We didn't say that we were OK being shanked, Dustin.

DUSTIN: Then maybe you should have said something sooner.

Dustin steps past us and begins making his way to a booth in the corner. Jeremy and I exchange cautious glances before beginning to follow. I can hear the echoes of my dress shoes clipping across the floor, and I'm sure they can too. I glance around and sure enough all eyes are on me. There's no glimmer of recognition on their faces though, just the slow grinding of mental gears as they wonder just how much money is in my wallet and just how easy it would be to get off me.

JEREMY: Stop staring at them. Avoid confrontation.

NATHAN: Thanks for the tip. Hey, how about you shut the fuck up about them while everyone is still paying attention to us, huh?

JEREMY: That's a good plan, buddy.

He claps me on the shoulder as we reach the booth and slide in to join Dustin. The leather on the seats is cracked and held together more by duct tape than any of the original stitching. The tabletop has been carved and graffiti'd almost completely, and likely not with knives provided by the establishment if you catch my drift.

DUSTIN: You guys are smooth. Like, really smooth. So smooth that you make smooth things look rough.

NATHAN: I swear to God I'll punch you in the fucking mouth, dude.

JEREMY: Boys, boys... let's not spend anymore time in this shithole than we need to. We have business to discuss. Dustin, are you sure this place is safe? Is anybody going to recognize us?

Dustin waves his arms around the place, giving Jeremy a 'bitch please' all neatly packaged in a glance.

DUSTIN: Do these patrons look like they watch men grappling in tights? Half of them are keeping their eyes in their drinks and hoping nobody recognizes them, don't be so paranoid.

JEREMY: Fine, then let's get right down to it... how in the hell did you not fill me in? I told you from day one that I would do anything you ever asked of me, but I couldn't be kept in the dark. I need to know the end goal so that I can do my job as MANAGER and MANAGE our way there, right?

DUSTIN: What's going on? Fill me in. All I know is that you got him back into the XWF, and he's fighting some Easy Rider: The Nest Generation wannabe. I thought you were in on that? Haven't you been working for years to open that door again?

Jeremy sighs and pounds his fist on the table, as if Dustin has somehow validated a point he's been making all along.

JEREMY: Yes Dustin, yes I have been working for that. To get HIM back into the XWF. The Legend. The Icon. The Prodigy. The Prophecy. The one and fucking only. Not Nathan god damned Lucas, the Mexican luchador with no accent and TWO WHITE FIRST NAMES!

DUSTIN: ... you said you were Nathan Lucas? Does the real Nathan Lucas know that?

JEREMY: Of course he does.

DUSTIN: Do they realize that-

JEREMY: No, of course they don't.

DUSTIN: I'm so fucking confused. What's the issue? If Nathan is OK with it, if the XWF doesn't know, and if this is what you guys had planned... why all the headaches? Why all the masks and the secrecy? Just wrestle your matches, win them, and take the mask off eventually. What're they going to say?

JEREMY: Oh Dustin. Dustin, Dustin, Dustin... Sweet, simple Dustin...

Dustin reaches over the table and slaps Jeremy so hard his fillings rattle. The sickening 'whap' of rippling flesh echoes through the bar and once more draws the attention of others. Jeremy turns bright red in embarrassment, but Dustin doesn't flinch.

DUSTIN: This guy may pay you to take your condescending shit, but you act like a bitch with me and I'll treat you like one. Understood?

A few of the onlookers chuckle and go back to minding their own business. I like this place more by the minute. Jeremy nods his head slowly and Dustin turns his focus to me, awaiting me to pick up where Jeremy was so brutally interrupted.

NATHAN: He's upset because he thought it was just a comeback, and that I had worked it out with the GM's already. He thought the mask was more of a marketing tool, to build for the fans.

DUSTIN: So what's the real story?

JEREMY: Yeah, Nathan, please fill us in.

Dustin lifts his massive hand in the air once more, and Jeremy cowers backwards in the booth. He looks to me for support, but I offer him none. He's annoying me, he's on his own. Dustin and I have been through wars together. Dustin and I have won feud of the year together, we were crowned legends in this industry together. We may have been under different names, but still... my allegiance to him trumps a business relationship.

NATHAN: I haven't worked anything out with the GM's. I've made a deal with Vinny Lane, and that's it. He told me he's gotten approval from Shane , but it feels fishy to me.

DUSTIN: I can't imagine welcoming you with open arms; you've pinned him clean more times than he's like his new sheep to know about. Besides, he's the type to be threatened with you around. The mask is only going to throw him off so long though. Are you trying to beat Bryan Harris impressively enough that he won't fire you, or-

NATHAN: I don't give a fuck if he fires me. The deal I made is pretty straightforward. If he's going to get what he wants, he needs me. I don't need him to get what I want, I have Vinny Lane.

DUSTIN: Vinny Lane, huh? I know that guy, I think. I might have faced him back in the day, or maybe just heard about him while I was on the road. Bright spandex? Dental caps and manicures? Looks like Dee Snyders wet dream? Clearly enjoys the softness of a mans nutsack on his chin?

NATHAN: Nailed it.

DUSTIN: He's good. Better than to have in your corner.

NATHAN: Good. He'd better be. He wants me to bring a friend to work with him and I.

DUSTIN: You can go fuck yourself, I told you I'm not doing this shit anymore, especially not to help Shane or Loverboy or some bastard XWF that I don't-

NATHAN: It's not you. I'm bringing 'Johnny'.

Dustin stares at me blankly, the name not registering anything. It's not surprising. We never called 'Johnny' that. I can see him working, and turning over the stones. I see the pieces click together. His jaw slacks slightly.

DUSTIN: No... fucking... way...

JEREMY: What? Are you fucking kidding me? You know who he's talking about? For fucks sake will someone fill me in on this?

NATHAN: Go wait in the car, Jeremy.

JEREMY: WHAT?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! THIS IS A FUCKING OUTRAGE! I CAN'T-

Dustin reaches over the table again and strikes Jeremy with a thunderous slap. Jeremy's head collapses against the wood table, a small knot forming immediately on his brow as an empty glass and a few peanuts topple over the edge to the floor. Jeremy rolls awkwardly out of the booth to the floor and staggers away, furious but knowing it's a losing battle.

DUSTIN: You really need to fire that guy.

NATHAN: I've heard that before.

DUSTIN: Well, give me all the gory details. Tell me what they want from you, and what you want from them... I can't imagine you and 'Johnny' come cheap.

NATHAN: We're going to be here for a while.

On cue a waitress makes her way from behind the bar to our booth and throws a few wet coasters down on the table.

WAITRESS: Can I get you boys anything?

DUSTIN: Yep. Anything.

NATHAN: A lot of it.

DUSTIN: Keep it coming.

NATHAN: Until we're dead or you find us gone with a pile of hundreds for yourself. Understood? And bring one out to the guy crying in the parking lot.

She nods and scurries away. Dustin and I lean in and begin to whisper. The entire room around us begins to...

FADE TO BLACK