Jack Owyns
INT. SOME ALLEY – LAS VEGAS, NEVADA – MAY 08TH, 2023
RADIO STATIC!
In a back alley, buried in the shadows of the towering brick walls, idles a black 1969 Ford Mustang, Boss 429 edition. Windows tinted. The exterior was caked in dust, the rims a bloody red with evidence that this Mustang had been off-roading not long ago.
MUSIC!
MORE RADIO STATIC!
The engine rumbles. While two homeless men, keeping a distance, admire the beauty in front of them, slowly passing the vintage muscle car. The engine roars, and they pick up the pace and move along as the license plate comes into view.
“VILLAIN,” the black plate, with red lettering, reads.
CUT TO: INSIDE
RADIO CHATTER!
RADIO STATIC!
An old car radio – like we talking vintage AM car radio here, no FM, no cassette slot. Just two round knobs, with a tuning range between 540kHz to 1600kHz.
The little orange marker moves back and forth, searching for the correct frequency – the shit is touchy. The dial is controlled by the thumb and index finger of JACK OWYNS. At the same time, he pinches a lit cigarette between his middle and index finger. His fingers are dirty, nails need a cutting.
RADIO MUSIC!
RADIO STATIC!
BINGO!
The voices of SUPLEX STEVE and RANDY RUE break the airwaves. Two retired wrestlers are now fans.
SUPLEX STEVE (OFF SCREEN): …Impressive it was cuz nobody, not you, not even me! Seen it going down like that… It’s…
RANDY RUE (OFF SCREEN): Crazy?
SUPLEX STEVE (OFF SCREEN): Crazy comes to mind, yes. Yeah, that was crazy. I just don’t know what else that was but crazy!
RANDY RUE (OFF SCREEN): Speaking of crazy…did you catch any of ReVival on Friday (Chuckles.)
SUPLEX STEVE (OFF SCREEN): Oh my GOD! How, just how, does that guy keep on finding work? The census is out…Jack Owyns is the biggest piece of crap; waste of life on this planet. How does he keep getting employed, Randy?
RANDY RUE (OFF SCREEN): Beats me.
SUPLEX STEVE (OFF SCREEN): It’s mind-boggling… It’s criminal! You, me! Took this sport seriously. First to arrive, last to leave. Played by the rules our entire career. Gave it one hundred percent every time we stepped foot inside that ring but him? Always late…was he high, was he drunk? Who the H, E, double hockey sticks even know! Never ever followed a single rule, never ever cared about this sport! But let’s hire him while good men like you and me can’t find a company for us! WHY!
Jack rolls down the driver-side window, tossing the butt of the cigarette that left a haze inside the vehicle.
JACK OWYNS (Mumbling): Cuz you a bitch.
He moves his hand toward the keys in the ignition. Ready to turn off the engine when…
RING! RING!
RANDY RUE (OFF SCREEN): we have a caller.
Jack removes his hand from the key in the ignition. Sitting back in the driver’s seat. His attention was piqued.
SUPLEX STEVE (OFF SCREEN): Who do we have here?
THE CALLER (OFF SCREEN): The name’s Odd, Oddball for short.
Jack leans forward suddenly, coming face to face with the AM radio.
JACK OWYNS: NOOOOOO!