Post by The Brothers Holland on Oct 6, 2007 5:31:21 GMT -6
Turnaround - Part 2A.1: Searching
Tuesday October 2nd, 11:00
*A damp room. The brick walls are covered in slime and damp. A drip of water can be heard every so often. About the room are scattered stools and various random implements of pain the like of which you'd see in a typical hardcore match. Mixed among them however are a few more violent implements that none but the most hardcore.. the most Xtreme would use.
In the middle of the room stands a ring. It is lit in the center by a beam of light shining from above, not artificial but sunlight. The canvas is mostly a dull weathered beige but it's spattered with dark brown spots, the marks of dried blood.*
"As good a place as any to start. Lets face it it's probably something to do with this place. I remember this place all too well... I remember being on the top rung so very often.. only to be knocked down by Conrad himself. He didn't like me, he wasn't proud of me or anything that I did. I'd do everythig I could just to appease him... just to keep him off of my back and Milo's... but it was never enough. Some people don't realise just how tough this place was on me. No one ever saw me fight really. They saw the name and assumed the rest. Most of the time Conrad would have me fight in the dark... so how, why would they even want to come and watch. Dark matches were for rookies and jobbers. New kids and them who couldn't fight. It was almost as if Conrad saw I'd one day be the man I am now... that he wanted a piece of that action and didn't want anyone else to know.... especially not me."
*A man walks in from the corner of the room. His 3/4 length brown coat flows behind him slightly as if there's a draft in the room. His feet slip slightly on the last step of the staircase down into the room. He steadies himself quickly and without a word but looks around as if things are in the state they always belonged to be. Dave Holland moves to a stool and picks it up*
"So many memories... none of them good. This chair might have been that one I sat on when I watched Milo almost kill a kid in what can only be called a UFC match. Milo took a beating but he never let it slow him down or stop him. In the end it was that chokeslam of his that did it. Some people say that kid never spoke again, his throat was that damaged by the grip. Personally if the kid never spoke it was probably more trauma than physical. Or maybe this stool was the one I used when Floyd wouldn't let up. When he threw me out of the ring and all I could do was pick this thing up and smack him around the teeth. He made the mistake of counting me among the totally pure. True I'd rather not wander to the realm of hardcore but if it's needed.. I'll do it. My god listen to me... That's not me talking... it's not."
*Dave throws the stool at the wall and clutches his head as it shatters into a thousand splinters of wood. A few moments later Dave screams at the top of his lungs*
Dave: THAT WASN'T THE MAN I AM!! THAT ISN'T THE MAN I AM!!
*Dave drops to his knees. His eyes drawn to an object on the floor. His mind then wanders to a flashback.
The room is full of young men, all screaming at the two young guys in the ring, neither can be older than 15. There are no familiar faces from past flashbacks in the crowd except for that of Conrad Jones but one of the boys in the ring has been seen before. It's Dave when he was fighting. Dave is executing moves perfectly, striking whenever an opportunity arises and not letting it phase him when his opponent manages to hit him back.
The match goes to the outside as Dave is clotheslined over the top rope. The other boy follows and doesn't go for Dave. The rules in this place were that weapons were legal outside the ring even in normal matches. He knows which weapon he wants as he turns straight for the announcer's desk. He picks himself up the ringbell and goes to Dave.
Dave is up and supporting himself on the ring apron. He looks up at his opponent holding high the ringbell for the coup de grace. As he swings Dave rolls away behind the kid. He turns and Dave nails a Superkick to the bell into his face. The vision goes bluury though and Dave rolls the kid into the ring, to the turnbuckle. He places the ringbell over his face and starts stomping... stomping... stomping... the blood flows freely and we cut back to Dave in the modern world. His hand has wandered to a large patch of dried blood in the corner of the ring.*
"Why don't I remember that fight? The vision of the fight I can see... the vision of beating that poor kid to the end of his life... why can't I remember the other faces in the audience? Why can't I remember his name? Where was Milo? And the others? Dammit why don't I remember? When did I start preferring the ringbell as my weapon of choice? Was this it? Is this... is this what I'm running from? Is this who I am? Is it this guy that I'm speeding as fast as I can away from? I don't know him... I don't remember him... I can't run from what I can't remember....can I?"
You okay mister?
*A voice? Dave turns to see a small boy standing at the doorway*
Dave: Yeah.. I'm fine. Careful kid the floor's a little slippy.
Kid: I know... I've been in here more than a few times.
Dave: You have? I thought they kept this place locked up tight.
Kid: I have my ways. I'm resourceful like that.
Dave: Heh... fair enough. You know what went down here?
Kid: Yeah. All my heroes were born and bred in this room from what I understand. Spike Kane... Mr Foster here... even The Hollands. Most of the guys here don't like watching the tag teams but I do. Sometimes they'll watch a tag match if The Hollands get some good opposition but it's been a while. Even Everyman Hardaway was dissappointing.
"Tell me about it."
Dave: Not all of us were born here... but some of the breeding might have come from here.
Kid: I guess you'd know sir.
"Guess the kid does know how I am after all"
Kid: I know you've been going through a tough time. I've been watching the TV. Your dad was a bad man... and people have been saying this weird thing... 'The sins of the father shall pass to the son'.
Dave: Who has?
Kid: I dunno... various people. But you know what, I don't think they're talking about you.
Dave: How d'you figure?
Kid: Well... you're rejecting your father now. If anything Milo's embraced him more now than ever. Plus I really don't think it was chance that had him choose Milo over you to inhabit. You're looking for the wrong thing, sir.
Dave: I am?
Kid: Yeah... you're not running anymore. Now you've come out here.. you've started remembering... things in your past are coming back to you that you'd just forgotten... blacked out. You'll understand when you get back to Ireland.
"How did he know I was remembering? This isn't a live broadcast."
Kid: Don't worry... you'll have this beat by the end of the day. Just remember Milo in this too. Ok?
*Another small child appears at the doorway, younger than the first*
Kid 2: Dave... can we go outside now?
Kid: Sure Milo... I'll be right there.
*The little Milo kid walks back out the room. Little Dave turns up the stairs with a knowing smile on his face. He gets to the top and turns back*
Kid: And so will you.
Dave: And so will I....
*The kid fades as he leaves the room, totally disappearing before actually leaving.*
Dave: Maybe that's what I've been running from... I've always been there for Milo... maybe I've just always wanted to live on my own. Maybe I've kept running because when I get away, Milo's right back there with me... No... that can't be it. When Milo died... both times.... no... it's not Milo.
"I'll be back.. I was right.. I am starting to remember things here... but it's not here that I was running from. Whatever I'm running from came before... It was within me even before this hellhole. This place just nurtured it.. made it strong... made it silent."
*Dave turns and leaves the room. The screen fades to black before opening up on another one.*
Turnaround - Part 2A.2: Searching further
Tuesday October 2nd, 15:00
*The scene begins dark until the door lifts open. It's a garage door and once open reveals the sillhouette of Dave Holland. The garage lies mostly empty but Dave goes in anyway*
This place has seen some memories... this place must know why I'm running. I remember so many things.. so many happy times... There was the time I first learned to ride my bike.. the time I first threw a baseball... the first time I hit one so hard it went clear into the neighbour's yard. But they're all happy... and Dad had to go straight away afterwards. He... was never home much.... Why here? I'm being drawn here... something... something... I know this was my old home... but what's here? What could be here? Something about my dad.. something.. has to be... something... redeeming?
*Dave goes to the very back of the room. The breeze blocks (Large grey concrete blocks) that make up the wall. Some have chips in them made by time and wear. Dave starts to finger across them though and his fingers fiond a chip much more intentional. A small circular chip in the concrete. His mind wanders to another flashback.
Castor Holland is standing at the far end of his driveway taking aim with a rifle into the garage. There's a tall paper cut out of a man-target. Dave is stood beside his father who shoots and hits the center body mass quite consistently. Adult talks alongside his kid self as he remembers...*
Dave: Were you in the army?
Dave: Were you in the army?
Castor: No son. I'm just very talented.
Dave: Will I be that good one day?
Dave: Will i be that good one day?
Castor: Maybe... Here.. let's get your first shots.. see how you do from that.
*Castor helps Dave to shoulder the gun. Then Dave takes aim and with Castor bracing Dave so the kickback doesn't break anything, Dave squeezes a shot off. Headshot.*
Dave: How was that?
Dave: How was that?
Castor: That was very impressive. Even I struggle to make the headshots. That's why I stick to center body mass. See, that way the target goes down just as quick with an easier shot. With a standing target it's all good.. but with a moving target the head'll bob all over the place. The torso hardly moves. Now come on... let's grab a soda.
*Dave returns to the garage*
"Again.. I don't remember this... I've never held a gun in my life, let alone shot one. Is this a memory? Is this.. real? Why would my dad say that to me.. why would he want his son to know he was a killer? Why did I black this out?! No... they're all wrong... my Dad wasn't the man they all think they are. That scrap book is all false, all the clippings false... Ma's wrong.. the police are wrong... and now even I'm wrong..?"
*Dave spots a rifle in the corner. The house had never been sold what with rumours of the prvious occupant and all. Things remained just as they'd been left years ago. There's even a paper target. Dave hangs the target without even looking at it. he takes the rifle, checks that it's loaded and turns to the end of the drive.*
"I couldn't make that shot even if I tried. I mean hell, I can never throw a ball of paper into the bin in one shot.. how am I going to do this? I'll miss and that'll prove that that never happened. If that never happened then none of it could've happened... I'm sure of it!"
*Dave takes aim and notices some writing near the head... he thinks nothing of it though and proceeds to aim for the headshot. He fires. He doesn't take long aiming preferring to miss than anything. He waits a couple of seconds before walking up to the target. He doesn't look at it though.. looking to the wall behind and around the target for the missed shot. It isn't there though. He then looks to the target itself and to the writing itself. It reads:
Dave's first shot... I'm proud, son.
Dave shakes his head a little before hearing the sound of a small piece of metal falling to the floor. He looks behind the target and on the floor is a bullet. He then looks back at the chip in the wall he was fingering earlier. It's bigger now than before and it lies directly behind the head. Dave just made the exact same shot.*
"The sins of the father..... shall pass to the son.... I was wrong... I'm not running from Milo... I'm not running from anything in my life... I'm not running at all anymore. I know full well who I am... I know what I am... I am my father's son. Firstborn of this line... heir to the title... the crown... I'm not running from my father... I'm running from his legacy... I'm running from me. From who I was and the remnant of it left in who I am..."
Dave: Such destructive force... such a vengeful spirit. I never wondered before where it had come from. I never thought it's roots would lie in something so simple as genetics... The link with Milo lies in more than blood... it lies in.... no... he can't be...
"Guess who's back."
"No... you're gone... Milo took you away.. he sent you away."
"Nothing quite so convenient I'm afraid. It's good to talk to you again... son."
"You are not my father... My father wouldn't inhabit both his children the way you do. You're nothing but my imagination conjuring an image."
"Come on.. do you really believe that?"
"Yeah... so get the hell out of my head!"
*Dave focusses hard on his past memories. His father's smile.. his fathers hug. The shot he just made melts away... the memory of the past where he made that shot melts away... Dave is stood still holding his hand to the chip in the wall, the same size it was before. The rifle and target at the side are gone.*
"Impressive..... that's why.. I chose Milo..... No memories to force me out with...."
"Just leave my mind now you foul taint of evil."
"That'll happen soon enough..... as it once should have been I suppose...... I'm sorry for what I did, boy. Biologically I once was your father.... but don't dwell on me.... You made yourself once I left.... You can have what it is you wanted..... you're not my son anymore.... I only wish you were"
Dave: AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRH!
*Dave drops to his knees as the voice of his father finally leaves his head. His influence lost completely. The camera looks to the floor beneath him. The ground starts to turn dark in spots as Dave's bitterly wept tears land and splash on the ground. The camera backs up from the garage and looks to the sky before merging to a second sky and changing scene again*
Turnaround - Part 2A.3: .......Found?
Date: Unknown 18:30
*The camera pans down to show the irish ruins that Dave frequents so often. Ordinarily we'd see Dave practicing his martial arts style catas as he usually does. This time however we have Dave merely sitting on the central stone. He looks straight down the camera and doesn't even wait to start talking.*
Dave: You've all been watching. You've all been waiting. I'm sure most of you wouldn't understand the thought processes that go through my mind as I travel... as I discover... as I search. Forgive me if I'm not my happy, enthusiastic, energetic self at the moment. It's been a rough day. Distressing memories that I'm not even sure were real anymore... then my father coming back to haunt me again.... and then.. being disowned by him... I'm now officially a bástard. Dave "the bástard" Holland. I know that's probably not the first time those words have been uttered... but never before were they true. I'm going to grieve my loss for now... but then I'm going to get right back on the horse. I was right when I spoke to myself back at the orphanage. I do understand it now I'm here. My father was right too... I'm not his son anymore. I'm more than that. I'm my own man.. under my own rule and under my own power. That power will come upon any and all who meet me in ring... and that includes Adam Knite and The Punisher.
*Dave turns to face the setting sun*
Dave: Pretty isn't it? I could make some comparison between this and the careers of Knite and Punisher... but I won't. Both men are determined to do something with themselves again and who am I to stop them? I'll tell you who.. I'm Dave Holland *** damn it. You guys run off that name like it's nothing... like it's some kind of turd you've had to scrape from your shoe. That name is the name on the plate of the nCw Tag Team Championships right now. You got a better name? You're welcome to try and take them from us. Frankly I don't care that you're former world champions... both of you are tagged with that unfortunate 'former' label. Formerly.. you were world champions... but you both got beat... and not for the first time either, I'd warrant. You both were 'former' legends because since you're return the only people who've given a rat's ass about you are those with nothing else on the cards and Milo and I who're only looking after our best interests. Times have changed.. we keep saying that but you just don't understand what we mean do you?
*Dave stands on the sandy ground, blocking the sun from the camera, the light streaming past him either side giving him a half angelic, half demonic kind of glow.*
Dave: I mean that we're not in this for the money... I own Holland Incorporated Industries and have not once ever mentioned even taking a paycheque. I do but only because Leonard forced me to for tax reasons or something... I forget what. I wrestle because it's been bred in me. It's the one aspect of my father I can't escape... the one aspect of my childhood that I ran from so much and so far yet carried it with me all the way I went. I'll tell you what though Pun... can I call you Pun? In fact.. I don't care. You'd better try telling your partner what it is wrestling's about. Did you see him with Kelly Fox? He'll be there on saunday like he always is. Powerless. Because like he said himself, around Kelly he's powerless. He'll be trying to show off.. impress her.. win her back from Ortega.... that's all the distraction I need to fully take advantage. Oh wait... was I not supposed to say that about you and Kelly? Was that a secret? Because it really didn't look like it.
*Dave takes a stone and throws it over the edge of the cliff behind him.*
Dave: But then that's not the only distraction is it? I mean there's the whole situation thrown up by Davey's passing. I'm not saying that in itself will distract you but Pun's new little protegé. You said it yourself Adam.. you can't trust your partner... you can't be sure Seth won't jump in and take your spot away from you. Another distraction.. even if you do reforge your trust it won't be as strong as you need it against us. Slight distraction number 2. Plus will you be certain that Punisher's up to the job? I mean he's been drinking himself into a stupor this week.. has he got control of it or has he been drinking some more behind your back and off camera. In fact... I don't think I've even seen you together yet. No discussions between team-mates? He's been visited by various people this week.... not once by you. And vice versa. I mean sure you've spoken over the phone but that's not really the same is it? Leave's room on the night for misunderstanding.. mistakes... complications... and then a big ol' 3H to lay one of you down for the 3 count.
*Dave takes a handful of sand and rubs it into his palm.. kind of like Russel Crowe did in Gladiator all the time.*
Dave: Because you're both right about a few things. This is about making sure legends are remembered. This is about the older.. more established people. What it's not about is showing their dominance. I don't know how old you guys are but it can't be that old else you wouldn't be quite as forthright as you are. There'll be no career burying here. There'll be no walkovers.. for either team. You underestimate our sportsmanship when you consider yourselves worthless. Sounds to me like someone's been watching the wrong team talking... or maybe it's the words of two guys who don't believe in themselves and so can't expect anyone else to. I've been waiting for this sunday for a while now... since you cost me that match against Scar in fact. But am I going to consider you nothing more than two jobbers thrown in at the last second? No... That'd be foolish. My attention is focussed. I'm all there.. 100%. No distractions... no interruptions... nothing. You want an advantage.. you're going to have to make it yourself in that ring... which means it's not going to happen.
*Dave stands again*
Dave: Handle us easily? You don't even know where to start... You've done like all the little kids... jumped to the end and misread the last page. You don't know how it ends or how it gets to the end... you just know how you want it to end. That's a shame..... I hate dissappointing people so much.
*Dave turns to the center stone and goes into a one handed handstand before swinging down and flowing into a cata. The camera backs off and fades to black.*
~Turnaround Part 2A: fin~
Tuesday October 2nd, 11:00
*A damp room. The brick walls are covered in slime and damp. A drip of water can be heard every so often. About the room are scattered stools and various random implements of pain the like of which you'd see in a typical hardcore match. Mixed among them however are a few more violent implements that none but the most hardcore.. the most Xtreme would use.
In the middle of the room stands a ring. It is lit in the center by a beam of light shining from above, not artificial but sunlight. The canvas is mostly a dull weathered beige but it's spattered with dark brown spots, the marks of dried blood.*
"As good a place as any to start. Lets face it it's probably something to do with this place. I remember this place all too well... I remember being on the top rung so very often.. only to be knocked down by Conrad himself. He didn't like me, he wasn't proud of me or anything that I did. I'd do everythig I could just to appease him... just to keep him off of my back and Milo's... but it was never enough. Some people don't realise just how tough this place was on me. No one ever saw me fight really. They saw the name and assumed the rest. Most of the time Conrad would have me fight in the dark... so how, why would they even want to come and watch. Dark matches were for rookies and jobbers. New kids and them who couldn't fight. It was almost as if Conrad saw I'd one day be the man I am now... that he wanted a piece of that action and didn't want anyone else to know.... especially not me."
*A man walks in from the corner of the room. His 3/4 length brown coat flows behind him slightly as if there's a draft in the room. His feet slip slightly on the last step of the staircase down into the room. He steadies himself quickly and without a word but looks around as if things are in the state they always belonged to be. Dave Holland moves to a stool and picks it up*
"So many memories... none of them good. This chair might have been that one I sat on when I watched Milo almost kill a kid in what can only be called a UFC match. Milo took a beating but he never let it slow him down or stop him. In the end it was that chokeslam of his that did it. Some people say that kid never spoke again, his throat was that damaged by the grip. Personally if the kid never spoke it was probably more trauma than physical. Or maybe this stool was the one I used when Floyd wouldn't let up. When he threw me out of the ring and all I could do was pick this thing up and smack him around the teeth. He made the mistake of counting me among the totally pure. True I'd rather not wander to the realm of hardcore but if it's needed.. I'll do it. My god listen to me... That's not me talking... it's not."
*Dave throws the stool at the wall and clutches his head as it shatters into a thousand splinters of wood. A few moments later Dave screams at the top of his lungs*
Dave: THAT WASN'T THE MAN I AM!! THAT ISN'T THE MAN I AM!!
*Dave drops to his knees. His eyes drawn to an object on the floor. His mind then wanders to a flashback.
The room is full of young men, all screaming at the two young guys in the ring, neither can be older than 15. There are no familiar faces from past flashbacks in the crowd except for that of Conrad Jones but one of the boys in the ring has been seen before. It's Dave when he was fighting. Dave is executing moves perfectly, striking whenever an opportunity arises and not letting it phase him when his opponent manages to hit him back.
The match goes to the outside as Dave is clotheslined over the top rope. The other boy follows and doesn't go for Dave. The rules in this place were that weapons were legal outside the ring even in normal matches. He knows which weapon he wants as he turns straight for the announcer's desk. He picks himself up the ringbell and goes to Dave.
Dave is up and supporting himself on the ring apron. He looks up at his opponent holding high the ringbell for the coup de grace. As he swings Dave rolls away behind the kid. He turns and Dave nails a Superkick to the bell into his face. The vision goes bluury though and Dave rolls the kid into the ring, to the turnbuckle. He places the ringbell over his face and starts stomping... stomping... stomping... the blood flows freely and we cut back to Dave in the modern world. His hand has wandered to a large patch of dried blood in the corner of the ring.*
"Why don't I remember that fight? The vision of the fight I can see... the vision of beating that poor kid to the end of his life... why can't I remember the other faces in the audience? Why can't I remember his name? Where was Milo? And the others? Dammit why don't I remember? When did I start preferring the ringbell as my weapon of choice? Was this it? Is this... is this what I'm running from? Is this who I am? Is it this guy that I'm speeding as fast as I can away from? I don't know him... I don't remember him... I can't run from what I can't remember....can I?"
You okay mister?
*A voice? Dave turns to see a small boy standing at the doorway*
Dave: Yeah.. I'm fine. Careful kid the floor's a little slippy.
Kid: I know... I've been in here more than a few times.
Dave: You have? I thought they kept this place locked up tight.
Kid: I have my ways. I'm resourceful like that.
Dave: Heh... fair enough. You know what went down here?
Kid: Yeah. All my heroes were born and bred in this room from what I understand. Spike Kane... Mr Foster here... even The Hollands. Most of the guys here don't like watching the tag teams but I do. Sometimes they'll watch a tag match if The Hollands get some good opposition but it's been a while. Even Everyman Hardaway was dissappointing.
"Tell me about it."
Dave: Not all of us were born here... but some of the breeding might have come from here.
Kid: I guess you'd know sir.
"Guess the kid does know how I am after all"
Kid: I know you've been going through a tough time. I've been watching the TV. Your dad was a bad man... and people have been saying this weird thing... 'The sins of the father shall pass to the son'.
Dave: Who has?
Kid: I dunno... various people. But you know what, I don't think they're talking about you.
Dave: How d'you figure?
Kid: Well... you're rejecting your father now. If anything Milo's embraced him more now than ever. Plus I really don't think it was chance that had him choose Milo over you to inhabit. You're looking for the wrong thing, sir.
Dave: I am?
Kid: Yeah... you're not running anymore. Now you've come out here.. you've started remembering... things in your past are coming back to you that you'd just forgotten... blacked out. You'll understand when you get back to Ireland.
"How did he know I was remembering? This isn't a live broadcast."
Kid: Don't worry... you'll have this beat by the end of the day. Just remember Milo in this too. Ok?
*Another small child appears at the doorway, younger than the first*
Kid 2: Dave... can we go outside now?
Kid: Sure Milo... I'll be right there.
*The little Milo kid walks back out the room. Little Dave turns up the stairs with a knowing smile on his face. He gets to the top and turns back*
Kid: And so will you.
Dave: And so will I....
*The kid fades as he leaves the room, totally disappearing before actually leaving.*
Dave: Maybe that's what I've been running from... I've always been there for Milo... maybe I've just always wanted to live on my own. Maybe I've kept running because when I get away, Milo's right back there with me... No... that can't be it. When Milo died... both times.... no... it's not Milo.
"I'll be back.. I was right.. I am starting to remember things here... but it's not here that I was running from. Whatever I'm running from came before... It was within me even before this hellhole. This place just nurtured it.. made it strong... made it silent."
*Dave turns and leaves the room. The screen fades to black before opening up on another one.*
-------------------------------
Turnaround - Part 2A.2: Searching further
Tuesday October 2nd, 15:00
*The scene begins dark until the door lifts open. It's a garage door and once open reveals the sillhouette of Dave Holland. The garage lies mostly empty but Dave goes in anyway*
This place has seen some memories... this place must know why I'm running. I remember so many things.. so many happy times... There was the time I first learned to ride my bike.. the time I first threw a baseball... the first time I hit one so hard it went clear into the neighbour's yard. But they're all happy... and Dad had to go straight away afterwards. He... was never home much.... Why here? I'm being drawn here... something... something... I know this was my old home... but what's here? What could be here? Something about my dad.. something.. has to be... something... redeeming?
*Dave goes to the very back of the room. The breeze blocks (Large grey concrete blocks) that make up the wall. Some have chips in them made by time and wear. Dave starts to finger across them though and his fingers fiond a chip much more intentional. A small circular chip in the concrete. His mind wanders to another flashback.
Castor Holland is standing at the far end of his driveway taking aim with a rifle into the garage. There's a tall paper cut out of a man-target. Dave is stood beside his father who shoots and hits the center body mass quite consistently. Adult talks alongside his kid self as he remembers...*
Dave: Were you in the army?
Dave: Were you in the army?
Castor: No son. I'm just very talented.
Dave: Will I be that good one day?
Dave: Will i be that good one day?
Castor: Maybe... Here.. let's get your first shots.. see how you do from that.
*Castor helps Dave to shoulder the gun. Then Dave takes aim and with Castor bracing Dave so the kickback doesn't break anything, Dave squeezes a shot off. Headshot.*
Dave: How was that?
Dave: How was that?
Castor: That was very impressive. Even I struggle to make the headshots. That's why I stick to center body mass. See, that way the target goes down just as quick with an easier shot. With a standing target it's all good.. but with a moving target the head'll bob all over the place. The torso hardly moves. Now come on... let's grab a soda.
*Dave returns to the garage*
"Again.. I don't remember this... I've never held a gun in my life, let alone shot one. Is this a memory? Is this.. real? Why would my dad say that to me.. why would he want his son to know he was a killer? Why did I black this out?! No... they're all wrong... my Dad wasn't the man they all think they are. That scrap book is all false, all the clippings false... Ma's wrong.. the police are wrong... and now even I'm wrong..?"
*Dave spots a rifle in the corner. The house had never been sold what with rumours of the prvious occupant and all. Things remained just as they'd been left years ago. There's even a paper target. Dave hangs the target without even looking at it. he takes the rifle, checks that it's loaded and turns to the end of the drive.*
"I couldn't make that shot even if I tried. I mean hell, I can never throw a ball of paper into the bin in one shot.. how am I going to do this? I'll miss and that'll prove that that never happened. If that never happened then none of it could've happened... I'm sure of it!"
*Dave takes aim and notices some writing near the head... he thinks nothing of it though and proceeds to aim for the headshot. He fires. He doesn't take long aiming preferring to miss than anything. He waits a couple of seconds before walking up to the target. He doesn't look at it though.. looking to the wall behind and around the target for the missed shot. It isn't there though. He then looks to the target itself and to the writing itself. It reads:
Dave's first shot... I'm proud, son.
Dave shakes his head a little before hearing the sound of a small piece of metal falling to the floor. He looks behind the target and on the floor is a bullet. He then looks back at the chip in the wall he was fingering earlier. It's bigger now than before and it lies directly behind the head. Dave just made the exact same shot.*
"The sins of the father..... shall pass to the son.... I was wrong... I'm not running from Milo... I'm not running from anything in my life... I'm not running at all anymore. I know full well who I am... I know what I am... I am my father's son. Firstborn of this line... heir to the title... the crown... I'm not running from my father... I'm running from his legacy... I'm running from me. From who I was and the remnant of it left in who I am..."
Dave: Such destructive force... such a vengeful spirit. I never wondered before where it had come from. I never thought it's roots would lie in something so simple as genetics... The link with Milo lies in more than blood... it lies in.... no... he can't be...
"Guess who's back."
"No... you're gone... Milo took you away.. he sent you away."
"Nothing quite so convenient I'm afraid. It's good to talk to you again... son."
"You are not my father... My father wouldn't inhabit both his children the way you do. You're nothing but my imagination conjuring an image."
"Come on.. do you really believe that?"
"Yeah... so get the hell out of my head!"
*Dave focusses hard on his past memories. His father's smile.. his fathers hug. The shot he just made melts away... the memory of the past where he made that shot melts away... Dave is stood still holding his hand to the chip in the wall, the same size it was before. The rifle and target at the side are gone.*
"Impressive..... that's why.. I chose Milo..... No memories to force me out with...."
"Just leave my mind now you foul taint of evil."
"That'll happen soon enough..... as it once should have been I suppose...... I'm sorry for what I did, boy. Biologically I once was your father.... but don't dwell on me.... You made yourself once I left.... You can have what it is you wanted..... you're not my son anymore.... I only wish you were"
Dave: AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRH!
*Dave drops to his knees as the voice of his father finally leaves his head. His influence lost completely. The camera looks to the floor beneath him. The ground starts to turn dark in spots as Dave's bitterly wept tears land and splash on the ground. The camera backs up from the garage and looks to the sky before merging to a second sky and changing scene again*
-----------------------------------
Turnaround - Part 2A.3: .......Found?
Date: Unknown 18:30
*The camera pans down to show the irish ruins that Dave frequents so often. Ordinarily we'd see Dave practicing his martial arts style catas as he usually does. This time however we have Dave merely sitting on the central stone. He looks straight down the camera and doesn't even wait to start talking.*
Dave: You've all been watching. You've all been waiting. I'm sure most of you wouldn't understand the thought processes that go through my mind as I travel... as I discover... as I search. Forgive me if I'm not my happy, enthusiastic, energetic self at the moment. It's been a rough day. Distressing memories that I'm not even sure were real anymore... then my father coming back to haunt me again.... and then.. being disowned by him... I'm now officially a bástard. Dave "the bástard" Holland. I know that's probably not the first time those words have been uttered... but never before were they true. I'm going to grieve my loss for now... but then I'm going to get right back on the horse. I was right when I spoke to myself back at the orphanage. I do understand it now I'm here. My father was right too... I'm not his son anymore. I'm more than that. I'm my own man.. under my own rule and under my own power. That power will come upon any and all who meet me in ring... and that includes Adam Knite and The Punisher.
*Dave turns to face the setting sun*
Dave: Pretty isn't it? I could make some comparison between this and the careers of Knite and Punisher... but I won't. Both men are determined to do something with themselves again and who am I to stop them? I'll tell you who.. I'm Dave Holland *** damn it. You guys run off that name like it's nothing... like it's some kind of turd you've had to scrape from your shoe. That name is the name on the plate of the nCw Tag Team Championships right now. You got a better name? You're welcome to try and take them from us. Frankly I don't care that you're former world champions... both of you are tagged with that unfortunate 'former' label. Formerly.. you were world champions... but you both got beat... and not for the first time either, I'd warrant. You both were 'former' legends because since you're return the only people who've given a rat's ass about you are those with nothing else on the cards and Milo and I who're only looking after our best interests. Times have changed.. we keep saying that but you just don't understand what we mean do you?
*Dave stands on the sandy ground, blocking the sun from the camera, the light streaming past him either side giving him a half angelic, half demonic kind of glow.*
Dave: I mean that we're not in this for the money... I own Holland Incorporated Industries and have not once ever mentioned even taking a paycheque. I do but only because Leonard forced me to for tax reasons or something... I forget what. I wrestle because it's been bred in me. It's the one aspect of my father I can't escape... the one aspect of my childhood that I ran from so much and so far yet carried it with me all the way I went. I'll tell you what though Pun... can I call you Pun? In fact.. I don't care. You'd better try telling your partner what it is wrestling's about. Did you see him with Kelly Fox? He'll be there on saunday like he always is. Powerless. Because like he said himself, around Kelly he's powerless. He'll be trying to show off.. impress her.. win her back from Ortega.... that's all the distraction I need to fully take advantage. Oh wait... was I not supposed to say that about you and Kelly? Was that a secret? Because it really didn't look like it.
*Dave takes a stone and throws it over the edge of the cliff behind him.*
Dave: But then that's not the only distraction is it? I mean there's the whole situation thrown up by Davey's passing. I'm not saying that in itself will distract you but Pun's new little protegé. You said it yourself Adam.. you can't trust your partner... you can't be sure Seth won't jump in and take your spot away from you. Another distraction.. even if you do reforge your trust it won't be as strong as you need it against us. Slight distraction number 2. Plus will you be certain that Punisher's up to the job? I mean he's been drinking himself into a stupor this week.. has he got control of it or has he been drinking some more behind your back and off camera. In fact... I don't think I've even seen you together yet. No discussions between team-mates? He's been visited by various people this week.... not once by you. And vice versa. I mean sure you've spoken over the phone but that's not really the same is it? Leave's room on the night for misunderstanding.. mistakes... complications... and then a big ol' 3H to lay one of you down for the 3 count.
*Dave takes a handful of sand and rubs it into his palm.. kind of like Russel Crowe did in Gladiator all the time.*
Dave: Because you're both right about a few things. This is about making sure legends are remembered. This is about the older.. more established people. What it's not about is showing their dominance. I don't know how old you guys are but it can't be that old else you wouldn't be quite as forthright as you are. There'll be no career burying here. There'll be no walkovers.. for either team. You underestimate our sportsmanship when you consider yourselves worthless. Sounds to me like someone's been watching the wrong team talking... or maybe it's the words of two guys who don't believe in themselves and so can't expect anyone else to. I've been waiting for this sunday for a while now... since you cost me that match against Scar in fact. But am I going to consider you nothing more than two jobbers thrown in at the last second? No... That'd be foolish. My attention is focussed. I'm all there.. 100%. No distractions... no interruptions... nothing. You want an advantage.. you're going to have to make it yourself in that ring... which means it's not going to happen.
*Dave stands again*
Dave: Handle us easily? You don't even know where to start... You've done like all the little kids... jumped to the end and misread the last page. You don't know how it ends or how it gets to the end... you just know how you want it to end. That's a shame..... I hate dissappointing people so much.
*Dave turns to the center stone and goes into a one handed handstand before swinging down and flowing into a cata. The camera backs off and fades to black.*
~Turnaround Part 2A: fin~