Reprise

A clear water current runs rapidly at the bottom of a narrow canyon. What was once a mighty river that wore through the bedrock over countless centuries is now a mere stream, and it serves to quench the land around it. The late summer sun beats down on sparse tufts of green grass, vibrant desert flowers, and ominous cacti that grow just offshore of the flow. But they aren’t the only living things whose thirst the stream quenches...

The massive skull and jaws of a rottweiler enter the frame, and a long, wet tongue slips out of its mouth to lap up a big drink. The water splashes this way and that, most of it entering the beast’s mouth. He licks his jowls when he’s had his fill, and his nub of a tail wags as his head darts toward the shadows against the rock wall behind him. There’s movement in the darkness, but from our vantage point beneath the sun, we can’t make out who or what lurks in it.

That is, until he steps into the light.

Dune’s hulking frame and half-masked face are as menacing as ever. His icy blue eyes remain locked on the dog as he approaches slowly. Suddenly he shoots into a fighting stance, and after gesturing for the dog to come to him with his calloused, bear-like hands, his deep voice rings out.

Dune: Come on, boy...come get it!

But the dog’s already charging before he can finish. He slams into his master, who catches him and begins wrestling with the beast. The dog snarls and nips at Dune’s massive arms playfully, giving ground as Dune’s quick, sporadic arm movements keep him on the defense. When the hound can retreat no further without backing into the stream, Dune lies down in submission and the dog pounces.

Just then, a familiar voice sounds from off camera.

Freeman: You two gonna get a room?

We cut to Dune’s aged mentor. He wears a brown robe, its hood down, and a his greying beard sits beneath a stern face as he continues.

Freeman: There’s a bed and breakfast not far from here. I know the owner. Could probably get you a good rate.

We cut to a wide shot showing all three parties. Silence ensues...but only for a moment.

We cut back to Freeman’s time-worn face, whose lips curl up into a smile. His laughter echoes through the canyon before he speaks.

Freeman: Don’t take offense, Dune. Beastiality’s been around since the dawn of man. I’m sure there’s many others like you who crave the companionship of dogs over women. The poor pups though...it’s always the pups who suffer.

Dune: Fuck off, old man.

Freeman: Forgive me for being concerned about your state of mind. Remind me, how many women have you been with since -

Dune: Don’t -

Freeman: - she died?

Dune turns away from Freeman before rising to his feet. He brushes himself off before taking a few steps toward him. His hound follows, panting from the short but intense exchange with its master.

Dune: I haven’t been with a single one. And don’t talk to me about what kind of state I’m in. You have no idea.

Freeman: Well...I’ve got some idea, but I don’t claim to be inside your head like, say, our old friend Jack was.

Dune’s expression turns dark at the name, and Freeman chuckles.

Freeman: What, do I need sensitivity training? We can’t talk about the past anymore?

Dune: Forgive me if I can’t stand the thought of a child killer; the man - the thing - who killed the only woman I ever loved and spent decades trying to run my life through the thresher.

Freeman: Alright...alright, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about it. But that’s part of moving on, Dune. On a lighter note, so’s getting your dick wet after lost love. I know all about that. A man’s gotta get his dick wet.

Dune scoffs and looks away before finding Freeman’s eyes again.

Dune: I’ll settle for getting my fists bloody.

Freeman cracks a smile and nods in approval.

Freeman: I know you will. It’s gonna be royal blood on your fists come Sunday. I just saw the Overload card. Hajeet - with a “t” - ...poor kid. It’s gonna be torture for him.

Dune: No...torture is drawn out for hours on end. Hajeet will be lucky to last two minutes with me.

Freeman: And after all this time, you’d be lucky to last two minutes with the foulest woman in the Mojave.

Dune: But your mother’s been dead for years…

Freeman lets out a burst of laughter, and he slaps Dune hard on the shoulder before gaining his composure.

Freeman: Beastiliaty, necrophilia...Christ! You’re fucked, you know that?

But despite Freeman’s sarcasm, Dune’s expression remains humourless, and the old man finally stifles his laughter before continuing.

Freeman: Come on, kid. Let’s walk. Let’s talk.

The two men turn and walk side by side through the narrow canyon, whose high walls above descend gradually with each step they take. The rottweiler is close behind, sniffing curiously at the desert vegetation.

We cut to a frontal shot of Dune and Freeman as the old man speaks.

Freeman: So this Hajeet...what do you know about him?

Dune: We’re similar...

Freeman turns to Dune with a baffled expression as he continues.

Dune: We’re both new around these parts. Sunday marks our inaugural bout in the UCI. I don’t know the man personally, but I’m willing to bet his greatest desire is to look down and see me broken and bloodied on the mat as the ref raises his hand in victory. Granted, it’s something that will never come to fruition for a man of his ability in relation to mine, but I imagine he dreams of it all the same.

Sadly for him, that’s where our similarities end, because I don’t have to dream of dominating Hajeet and pinning him for three. I only have to wait until the bell rings and our match gets underway. Then, I’ll greet him with aggression he’s never known. Then, I’ll remind the world what they’ve been missing all these months. Then, I’ll unsheathe the greatsword - forged by fire and razor sharp still - that’s been hidden since the spring. And with it, I’ll decapitate his royal head from his wiry frame clean with one mighty swing. He won’t have any more dreams to give him false hope after I’m through with him. And if I have my way, he won’t have any desire to step foot in a UCI ring again.

Freeman: Nothing wrong with being cocky if you can back your words up, and I have all the faith in the world that you can. But heed my words, Dune: don’t take him lightly. Where you wield a greatsword, a man like Hajeet wields dual daggers, and if he’s made it so far as to step into a UCI ring with the likes of you, he knows damn well how to use them.

Dune: When have I ever been known to take a man lightly in the squared circle, let alone anywhere outside of it? You won’t see me get complacent in the ring, Freeman - not against World Champions and Hajeet alike.

Freeman: He’s a striker, and from what I’ve seen of his tapes, he’s not shy about introducing his opponents to his knees.

Dune: Let him try. I’ll gladly make their acquaintance. Lord knows a “hey how are ya” or two from mine would leave him lights out on the mat. The fact is, I’m superior to him in every facet of his game. He wants to stand and trade blows with me? I’ll take each one and deliver five more in their stead - each one more powerful than five of his. Few can overpower me, and he’s not amongst them. Likewise, few can brawl with me...especially someone who I outweigh by nearly a hundred pounds. He wants to try to wrap me up and take me to the ground? It’s a fool’s errand if I ever heard one. For over a year I fought at the highest level in what was once the greatest federation this sport has ever seen against some of the best technical wrestlers to ever grace the ring, and if Hajeet thinks a few months off is going to leave me rusty and reeling come Sunday, he’s sorely mistaken.

I hear his inspiration for leaving the safety of his homeland, Tripura, and coming over to the states to sign on with UCI to begin with was to try and compete with fighters whose names ring out in every corner of the globe. Well few ring out louder than mine...if any do at all. He may be deaf to it now, but when the thousands of UCI Faithful chanting my name in unified bloodlust threaten to blow the roof off the arena in Des Moines this Sunday at Overload, there’ll be no escaping it.

Freeman: You think the crowd’s gonna be that antsy to see a beatdown so early in the show? Keep in mind you’re not main eventing, Dune - you’re opening.

Dune: I haven’t forgotten. I also haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I was so low on the card.

Freeman: Neither have I. It was your debut...and you lost.

Dune: Right, my teammate was pinned. But I outperformed every man in the match, and I delayed the inevitable defeat by breaking up the pin three times. You only have so much power in tag-team competition.

Freeman: It’s a good thing you’ve got Hajeet one on one this Sunday.

Dune: It’s a blessed thing. I dominated in my WCF debut, and nothing’s going to change for my first fight in UCI. What will change is the outcome, because now I won’t have lesser men to drag me down, and my opponent won’t have lesser men to pin for three. Make no mistake, Freeman - Hajeet is the lesser of the two of us by a wide margin.

I wasn’t the most prestigious wrestler in the world last year by some stroke of luck. I wasn’t given championship gold and victory after victory free of charge. What I WAS given was what any man with a bit of sense would know to be a daunting run of opponents week after week. But I didn’t throw in the towel. I didn’t bitch and moan. And I didn’t lose. Instead, I tore through the gauntlet of premier fighters set forth in my path. In doing so, I didn’t just survive; I thrived...and that’s exactly what I tend to do here in the UCI.

Freeman: I’d expect nothing less. Hell, I’ve fought you one on one - man to man - so you don’t have to explain to me what kind of fighting ability you possess. I’ve felt it...but Hajeet’s only seen it. There’s a big difference.

Dune: What’s your point?

A pause ensues as the two men finally exit the canyon. They turn and begin making their way up a gradual slope with the rottweiler not far behind as Freeman continues.

Freeman: Confidence is a crucial element of the game you play. Last year, it helped push you over the top. And I’m willing to bet a man so seemingly naive as Hajeet’s gonna come into the match Sunday every bit as confident as you are.

Dune: All the more motivation for me. Most assured themselves they’d be my downfall last year prior to stepping in the ring with me, and watching the lights in their eyes fade with crippling realization never ceased to awaken the beast inside me. It’ll be no different for Hajeet. I hope his confidence is through the roof on Sunday. May it light up his eyes as never before when the opening bell rings. They’ll fade with each passing second thereafter. And by the time the final bell sounds, his eyes will have become two black holes through which no light will penetrate.

The two men continue walking as Freeman turns to Dune with a grin.

Freeman: You’re ready.

He chuckles and slaps Dune on the back.

Dune: You say it as if you’re surprised.

Freeman: No, no...I’m just glad. That’s all.

The camera switches to a rear-shot of the two men as they crest a sand-covered hill and begin making their way toward a familiar dune-buggy parked at the bottom. Dune’s rottweiler bounds into the frame and makes for it. Once there, the hound waits impatiently near a small cooler nestled in the passenger seat.

Freeman laughs at the sight, then turns to Dune.

Freeman: How’s the face?

Dune: Fine. Howie blasted me with that belt of his though. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sore the next day.

Freeman: Yeah, he planted you with it alright. What I want to know is...how’d you not see it coming?

Dune: I should have, I know.

Freeman: Can’t say I didn’t warn you. We both saw how he’s been acting lately.

Dune: He’s changed, Freeman...but his change is all too familiar. I’ve seen it before; I’ve lived it before. I wasn’t sure at first, but now it’s clear as day. Even though we haven’t had contact in many months, seeing my best friend being led down a path that so closely resembles the one I was led down this past winter leaves me stricken with grief...and there’s only one man who could be behind it.

Freeman: Jack.

Dune seethes once more at the mere mention of the Jackal. He turns to Freeman.

Dune: He’s back, Freeman. The motherfucker’s back!

Freeman: But, how?

Dune: I don’t know. God dammit, I don’t know. Howie saved me in January, alongside Joey Flash and Occulo. He knew not to meddle in the Jackal’s affairs. I told him - I TOLD him what would happen. And now it has. The jackal won’t stop until he’s taken everything from Howard and left him a shell of his former self. But I owe him my life, Freeman, and I won’t stop until I’ve freed of him his burden...no matter the cost to myself.

Freeman: How do you plan to go about -

Dune: Not now. I’m going to fix this, but I can’t do it alone. At the very least I’ve got to get Howie to talk to me before I can make any plans. His first order of business as UCI World Champion was to bash my face in with the belt, so I’ve got a long way to go yet.

Freeman nods and meets Dune’s gaze.

Freeman: I’ll be there for you every step of the way. Don’t ever doubt it.

Dune: I know you will.

The two men come to a stop at the dune buggy, and the rottweiler licks at Dune’s massive paw eagerly as Freeman speaks.

Freeman: For what it’s worth, you called a good match.

Dune: Thanks...I guess.

Freeman: On to bigger and better things now.

Dune nods with a look of grim determination. Freeman matches his expression, and the two share in a moment of absolute understanding. Freeman then casts his eyes downward. After a moment, he looks back up at Dune.

Freeman: You should go see her.

Dune looks away.

Dune: What’s the point?

Freeman: For closure. To help heal the wounds.

Dune turns back to Freeman.

Dune: They’re still too fresh.

Freeman nods.

Freeman: Go see her, Dune.

Dune turns away once more. Freeman opens his mouth to speak but thinks better of it. He turns to the hound, who by now is writhing in anticipation. He chuckles at the sight.

Freeman: Better give the old boy what he wants.

Dune turns to the rottweiler and nods in agreement.

Dune: I suppose I better.

He leans over to the passenger seat of the buggy and reaches into the cooler. The rottweiler goes stiff at the action. He licks his chops, and his eyes widen to see Dune pull out a slab of raw meat. He holds it in his palm at chest level and meets Freeman’s gaze.

Dune: Hajeet.

Freeman cracks a smile before Dune chucks it, and we hear the wet sound of the meat flopping onto the sunburned ground a few yards away. The rottweiler bee-lines for it.

We cut to a closeup shot of the beast devouring the bloody slab, its teeth and muzzle drenched and dripping red as the scene fades out.

---

Moonlit darkness pervades the scene as we open on a series of thin steel beams, each one pointed at the top. Backing away, we see that it’s a fence, and inside are rows of headstones that sit atop what remains of the dead they identify. Silence is all we hear - silence and a breeze that blows through the dry grass whose roots reach out for the corpses buried here.

Soon, though, the sound of footsteps draws near, and as the camera turns, we see Dune walking toward us slowly along the outer perimeter of cemetery. His eyes are cast toward the middle of the gravesites, and his rottweiler trots along by his side.

The camera begins backing away so as to keep him in frame, and his deep voice cuts through the breeze.

Dune: It pains me to be here. When I was younger, I visited my brother’s grave often, and I never felt this way when I stood over his bones. But this place...something’s just not right about it. Perhaps it was the way they went that changes things. My brother, by men - outlaws whose mortality was proven when I came of age and sought them out; my love, by something else entirely.

I thought I avenged her - I thought WE avenged her...but I was wrong. Now the Jackal’s back, and for all I know he’s in there - inside this black gate - just waiting for me to step through the threshold…

Dune comes to a halt, as does the camera, and his icy blue eyes flick toward the screen as he continues.

Dune: What more can you take from me, Jack? Did you not have your fill the first time?! Did I -

Dunes voice cuts out, and his eyes are filled with rage. A moment of pause and a deep breath serves to calm him before he continues.

Dune: Until we meet again.

Just then, a twig snaps in the distance. The rottweiler perks up and growls, and Dune shoots his head toward the cemetery. He stares through the black gate into the darkness, listening intently for another sound. But none can be heard, save that of the wind parting the grass atop the graves within. Dune turns and begins walking away from the graveyard, and after a few seconds, he speaks.

Dune: On to bigger and better things, Freeman said.

Is that you, Hajeet? It’s all in how you look at it, I suppose.

If you take it to mean that you’re a bigger threat to me and mine than, say, a seemingly immortal, extra-dimensional being who thrives on shattering men beyond repair, then no...god no, that’s not you. If you take it to mean you’re better at seeking out a man’s weaknesses and exploited them for all they’re worth...again, no, that’s not you.

But if you take it to mean crushing your mind, body, and spirit between bells this Sunday is going to be a far bigger achievement than merely counting to three while others do the fighting, then yes, the old man had a point. If you take it to mean finally being allowed the opportunity to unleash my wrath upon a feeble foe will be better for me than wandering aimlessly through the desert - which is more or less what I’ve been doing since I hung up my boots this past spring - then yes, again, the old man’s words were true.

For what it’s worth, I choose to believe the latter. Despite the vast discrepancy in our fighting prowess, beating the fuck out of you and pinning your scrawny shoulders for three will be the biggest and best thing I’ve done in many months. And I can’t fucking wait.

Dune looks up at the sky, cloudless and full of stars. They light up his eyes before he turns back to the camera.

Dune: Perspective’s a funny thing. Down here, what we see throughout our existence is everything to us. But in the grand scheme of things, we’re nothing - motes of dust in an infinite cosmic play that has no need for us in the slightest.

The same goes for you and the UCI.

Back home in Tripura, you may well be considered an important part in the play. You claim your people love you - the Royal Prince destined to one day rule over their unfortunate offspring. But over here on the other side of the world, you mean absolutely nothing. Between the ropes of a UCI ring, you’re part is as meaningless and inconsequential as they come. And I’m going to prove that beyond a shadow of doubt at Overload this Sunday.

You’re a rich man back home, but you have no riches here. Even if you did, they wouldn’t get you anywhere.

You’re a powerful man back home, but you have no power here. Nor do I, for that matter...at least not yet. When it comes to the squared circle, power is earned. And when have you ever earned power? Certainly not in your lavish castle, where you were born into it.

You’re feared back home, but you’re not feared here. When we meet in the ring, you won’t find a peasant like the ones in Tripura who bow before you and beg to touch their lips to your feet. No, you’ll find yourself staring across at perhaps the most feared individual this sport has ever seen, and there won’t be any trace of fear in my eyes...only fire and a rage you’ve never known. But you will soon enough.

And while you’re rich, powerful, and feared back home, you’re not respected. Only a fool would respect a Royal Prince who’s been coddled his whole life and would never make it outside his castle walls amongst the masses hardened by the very real toils of everyday life. Similarly, you’re not respected here in the UCI. Respect in the ring, like fear and power, is earned...and the only thing you’ve earned is a royal beatdown at the hands of the one true king.

Dune’s rottweiler perks up once more at the faint sound of rattling in the cluster of rocks ahead, but Dune doesn’t hear it, and he continues forward as he speaks.

Dune: Despite all this, you’re a threat - vulnerable as you may be. Any man I step into the ring with is a threat...but only before I get my hands on you. Once that happens, it’s -

Just then, a rattlesnake lunges for Dune’s leg as he passes over the top of it. Before he can react though, the rottweiler pounces, sinking its teeth into the snake just below the snake’s head. A bit of venom shoot out onto Dune’s pants before the beast shakes its massive neck violently, swinging the snake this way and that. When he ceases, the snake’s body is limp and lifeless, and Dune bends down to pat the hound in approval.

Dune: Good boy.

The dog shake the snake’s body once more before trotting ahead of Dune, light footed and obviously pleased with itself. Dune rises, and his eyes flick toward the camera once more.

Dune: Once that happens, it’s all over.

This Sunday at Overload, you’re the snake; I’m the dog.

We're on the threshold, Hajeet...and I'm hungry.

I’m so fucking hungry.

Dune turns away from the screen and follows the rottweiler, who’s stopped to wait for his master. The camera doesn’t follow. When he catches up to the beast, Dune pats him once more on his massive skull, and the two make their way into the growing darkness. After a few seconds, it’s all we see.