PROMO: "Red-Eye State of Mind"

[Chuck Woolery 0]

We fade in on a view of Todd Cortez, standing at the hospital's reception desk. He's wearing a Hollywood Boulevard t-shirt and black pants, and he's obviously in a bit of stress. He knows that Mike Van Siclen was in here earlier tonight to get treated for the injuries suffered at the hands of Revolution Zero, but he wasn't in the ambulance and he has no idea which room Van Siclen is in. He assumes that Mike will be there overnight, though, and that's why he's here instead of his hotel room; he wants to see his mentor and confidant, make sure he's doing all right. The receptionist is not there, but she walks back, a slightly cheery smile on her face as she talks to Todd.

 

"He's not here, Mr. Cortez."

 

"... what?"

 

"He's not here, Mr. Cortez."

 

"How isn't he here? Did you see the cut on his forehead!?"

 

"I did, Mr. Cortez. There's a nice bandage on it right now, actually. Mr. Van Siclen said that he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

 

"Well, did he tell you where he was going?"

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cortez, he didn't."

 

"... well, fuck."

 

"I apologize, Mr. Cortez."

 

"No, no, it's not your fault... thank you."

 

Todd exits, driving away, recalling a conversation from earlier in the week...

 

"Todd... I don't want to lose out there, you know?"

 

"Well, yeah."

 

"But Todd, it'd be like... it'd be like I'd failed, you know? If I lose, I'm never going to want to go back in the locker room and have to look Landon and Andrea and Johnny in the eyes as a failure. If I lose, I just want to go home..."

 

And suddenly, Todd knows exactly where he is.

 

---

 

We fade in on the airport, where Mike Van Siclen has a carry-on bag slung haphazardly onto the seat next to him. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tee-shirt, and he's lost his tights in favor of a pair of blue jeans. There's a large bandage on his forehead, and he's sitting in the waiting area for his plane. We can see on the large board the time -- "1:47 AM" -- and the time of Van Siclen's flight -- "CHICAGO, 2:00 AM." Van Siclen is nearly alone in the lounge, with the exception of a lone woman sitting a few seats over. Van Siclen calls out to her.

 

"You think this is the whole plane?"

 

The woman looks at him, smiling. "I hope so, maybe they'll upgrade my ticket."

 

"Pfft, I already bought my first class ticket, I figure I deserve it."

 

"Why do you say that?"

 

Van Siclen smiles a tiny bit, tapping the bandage on his forehead. "I went through quite a bit of pain tonight, I think I deserve some relaxation."

 

The woman smiles and laughs, getting up and grabbing her purse to move next to Van Siclen. "What happened to you?"

 

"I got into a fight, actually... nothing too major."

 

"I see. And why are you going to Chicago, to visit?"

 

"Actually... I'm going home."

 

"Really? Why were you in Portland?"

 

"Business trip... I've been away on business for a long time, actually, it'll be nice to see Harrison again."

 

"You're from Harrison?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Really? Wow... I'm from Rosemont."

 

"Small world, eh? Hey, if I see you around there I'll make sure to say hi."

 

"Like you'll remember me."

 

"With a face that beautiful..."

 

"MIKE!"

 

Van Siclen's words stop dead in their tracks, and the Spectacle looks behind him. A smile crosses his face as he turns back to the woman. "... you know, this isn't the first time this has happened."

 

Todd Cortez comes charging towards Mike, a bit of sweat glistening in his hair. He moves Van Siclen's carry-on bag out of the way, sitting on the opposite side of Mike. "Why'd you leave the hospital, man?"

 

"You were in the hospital?" The woman asks.

 

Van Siclen turns to the woman. "Um, it's kind of a long story... let me deal with this first, I'll talk to you on the plane, okay?"

 

The woman looks a bit put off, but Van Siclen can't really be bothered with that right now, and he turns back to Cortez. "Todd, can we, like... talk later?"

 

"Absolutely not, Mike. I went to the hospital and you weren't there, and I want to know why you wanted to leave town so damn fast."

 

"... I want to know how you knew I'd be here."

 

"You told me you wanted to leave as soon as you could if you lost... and I figured if you weren't in the hospital, you were probably getting ready to leave."

 

"Good guess."

 

"Thank you."

 

"Todd... look, I've been a wrestler for five years. I dyed my hair blue for that fed, so they could laugh at me and call me the Snow Demon. I acted like a psychopath, because I was asked to be a crazy guy named Jeremy Miller. I danced like a tool and wore zebra pants because I was asked to be the Thriller. Todd, for the last four years I've been able to go out there and be myself, be real, be Mike Van Siclen, and I still have people hate me or love me, just because I'd go out there and say what I wanted to. I haven't always wrestled to the best of my ability, but I've won my share of titles, and I always thought that if I went balls-out I was good enough to win the big one. And tonight proved to me one thing, if nothing else... my best isn't good enough. My best never was good enough."

 

"That's not even being fair, Mike."

 

"It's not? Todd, I never had him down for three seconds. I never made him give up. I deserve to be sitting here right now."

 

"For God's sake, Mike, nobody deserves to go out like that..."

 

"But I knew that the possibility was there. And now the possibility's a reality, and I can't change that. I don't want to have to step into the locker room again, and look at Landon and Johnny and you and have to look at them as an outsider instead of a peer."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"When I lost that match, Todd, I stopped being a wrestler. I'm not a wrestler anymore. I don't want to be a wrestler anymore. Right now, I'm just Mike Van Siclen, some guy with long hair and a bachelor's in communications."

 

"And? You'll always have been a wrestler, you'll always have that competitive fire inside you..."

 

"... and I'll always have to supress it, because like an idiot I told Toxxic that I would leave if he beat me, and like an idiot with too much pride I'm going to stick to that."

 

"But Mike..."

 

"But what, Todd? I'm going home. The fed'll keep going without me, and if tonight was any indication they don't want me anyway. It's time for me to step aside and let the new guys take over... maybe Landon'll win the strap. Hell, maybe you'll win the strap, man. That'd be cool, wouldn't it?"

 

"Flight 203 to Chicago is now boarding."

 

"Look, Todd, my flight's boarding, I can't talk anymore... it's been real, okay? Give me a call sometime, we'll go fishing or something, maybe even invite Mask. Just like old times."

 

Van Siclen grabs his bag off the floor, getting to his feet and going over to the boarding line. He pulls out his boarding pass, giving it to the woman and stepping through the line. He turns to face Todd one more time, and this time he's obviously holding back.

 

"Actually, Todd... thanks out there, tonight. You coming out to defend my honor... nobody else would've done that for me. I really do appreciate that, I've appreciated every night we tagged..."

 

Van Siclen bites his lower lip, turning around, unable to face the Urban Legend. He takes a deep breath, tossing the words over his shoulder because he can't say them to Todd's face.

 

"Goodbye."

 

Van Siclen steps through the gates, and within fifteen minutes the plane is gone and he's already chatting with the woman from before. If you didn't know him you'd think that he was never a wrestler. That chapter of his life is over.

 

But the book for Todd Cortez is still being written, and Cortez still stands there, praying and hoping that Van Siclen will come back. A forlorn look is on the street-hardened Cortez's face, and he still struggles with the words himself...

 

"Goodbye, Mike."

[Toxxic 0]

Respect. Sad to see you go Mike, but I have a feeling the fed will still benefit from you.

 

And cheers for picking me to be the person to retire you

[Hank Kingsley 0]

COME BACK MIKE!

 

That was one damn good retirement promo. Long live American Gladiators!

[Guest Suicide King]

Oh no. No way you're blaming CC at the time for your ridiculous gimmicks.