BLAZE CLAYMORE in: "Nathan, For Us"

INT. POWER PLANT - AMERICAN CITY - DAY | 2019

Heavy rain pours down as we track from above through gaping holes in a tin roof. Inside we see a young MEXICAN MAN dressed in a preppy turtleneck underneath a posh Italian sports coat. The man looks around and we follow his POV, Matrix style, revealing six tough looking thugs armed with clubs, bats, hammers, and nunchucks entering from every corner of the scene. It looks like he’s about to be overtaken by sheer numbers, but in an incredible display of athleticism and tenacity, he begins to take down each thug one by one. The camera does a 360 spin from the perspective of the MEXICAN MAN until there is only one fighter left. The thug looks at his former prey, now turned predator, as he drops to his knees and delivers an impressive gut punch. Except the thug doesn’t react. Instead he looks confused and frozen. After a beat, the MEXICAN MAN lowers his head and sighs. MEXICAN MAN Aye dios mio! Idiot! This is the part where you fall down!

The thug violently launches himself backwards, falling on his back and spasming like a man possessed by a demon.

DIRECTOR No! No! No! Cut!

The rain stops, turning from a deluge to leaky faucet, as we cut from 16:9 perspective into full screen. Dozens of random figures rush in from the sides and as they do, we cut to a medium shot as the thug sits up and removes his mask to reveal the face of a young BLAZE CLAYMORE.

A middle aged white man in a suit, tie, and baseball cap, the DIRECTOR, appears and puts a hand on the MEXICAN MAN’s shoulders and sighs.

DIRECTOR| I’m sorry Juan.

JUAN “JUANNY” JAULA ¡Sí, te arrepentirás cuando encuentre a alguien que acepte tu trabajo!

The DIRECTOR blinks, trying to parse what he said from what little Spanish he knows.

DIRECTOR Trabajo. Yes, Blaze did not do his job and if he still wants a trabajo tomorrow he will remember his mark and cue, right, Blaze?

The shocked and petrified Blaze nods slowly as “JUANNY” dismisses the scene and walks off screen.

We cut to a CLOSE UP of the DIRECTOR leaning down and looking at BLAZE with a furious look in his eye.

DIRECTOR Look here, I know you’re new to this … but there are a million people out there who would literally kill to be a part of the 25th anniversary, made for telenovela adaptation of the classic Mortal Kombat. How can “Juanny” prove that it’s him, not his American twin brother, who saved Earth Realm when he can’t even knock over a simple thug wearing a mask and holding a… what is that anyways?

An extreme close up of a long club with a bunch of blades embedded into it. BLAZE shrugs, confused. DIRECTOR Nevermind. I’m not even sure we are going to be able to keep this production going anyways – everyone’s out sick with some virus or something. This is going to put us back at least half a day… BLAZE CLAYMORE Maybe they’re just lazy. DIRECTOR Don’t test me, Claymore. Your agent said there were three things you could do and do well – take direction, shut up, and get your ass kicked; and if you don’t get this next take right, then I can guarantee you that Juan over there will prove at least one of those to be correct. BLAZE CLAYMORE shuts his mouth and remains silent. DIRECTOR Good. Now get ready to do it right this time.

The DIRECTOR stands up and shouts out to the crew.

DIRECTOR All right everybody! Reset! We go again in fifteen minutes!

Off in the distance we can hear Juan’s voice, distant and muffled.

JUAN “JUANNY” JAULA I’m not doing it again! Next scene!

The DIRECTOR closes his eyes in frustration and begins to walk away, looking back at BLAZE CLAYMORE with a disgusted look on his face.

DIRECTOR Blaze… If the world misses the opportunity to see the greatness that is “Lucha Morta, Amor Inmortal” and the epic love story that is Juanny Jaula and Sonja Cuchilla, then I want you to remember it was because of you. Because. Of. YOU!

The DIRECTOR walks away, leaving a shocked BLAZE CLAYMORE to grip his mask, holding it tightly to his chest. INT. TOKYO HOTEL HALLWAY - NIGHT | PRESENT DAY We cut to a close up of a hand slapping the edge of a vending machine, the glass and wood rattling before we see a wider shot from the perspective of the machine, looking down a long and dimly lit hallway with doors lining the walls of a very compact, very austere hotel floor.

In front of the vending machine, raising their head dramatically into frame is BLAZE CLAYMORE. He is wearing his signature red robe over a not-so-signature set of “The Substance” pajamas with the floating heads of Elizbeth, Sue, and Monstro Elisasue in a layered pattern against navy blue silk.

BLAZE CLAYMORE Argh! Come on you stupid thing! I thought you were invented here! Give me my damned Ramune and cinnamon-covered edamame!

BLAZE smacks the machine one last time before turning around in a huff and rubbing his eyes in frustration. This was not the stress he needed heading into his first pay per view in PRIME.

BLAZE CLAYMORE I need a fucking drink.

BLAZE CLAYMORE shoves his hands in his robe pockets and begins to make his way toward the elevator, hitting the button for the lobby aggressively and then we smash cut to BLAZE walking out of the same elevator and directly into the hotel lobby bar.

Robe flowing like a majestic, monochromatic peacock, BLAZE saunters up to the bar with a classy looking Japanese bartender shaking a mixer vigorously behind the counter. The bartender knows BLAZE at this point, though why he knows BLAZE is left up to one’s imagination, and flashes a smile as his arms continue to shake vigorously as he mixes a cocktail.

BARTENDER Oh! Claymore-San. You are early tonight!

BLAZE waves away the bartender dismissively as he looks across the room and locks eyes with a young woman with olive complexion, long black hair, and piercing green eyes. He watches as the bartender nods and walks over to the woman and pours the filtered drink into her empty glass: a cosmopolitan.

BLAZE smirks and notices the woman smirk back - causing him to get flustered and cough dramatically - once again drawing the attention of the bartender.

BARTENDER You OK, Mister Claymore?

BLAZE waves the bartender away once again as he places his head in his hands and sighs. BLAZE CLAYMORE Could this night get any more embarrassing?

We remain focused on BLAZE, who doesn’t register that the woman from across the bar has grabbed a seat next to him. She sets her cosmo down with a soft “clink” and waits patiently for him to realize she’s arrived. When he does, lifting his head and pulling back his hands, BLAZE yelps in surprise.

BLAZE CLAYMORE Jesus Mary and Joseph!

The woman laughs and wags her finger.

SONJA CUCHILLA Not quite.

BLAZE narrows his gaze, perplexed as the woman takes a sip of her drink and then lets out a mix of a scoff and a laugh as she shakes her head.

SONJA CUCHILLA Don’t tell me Blaze Claymore has gotten so big he’s forgotten about me already.

BLAZE CLAYMORE Uhhh. I’d like to buy a vowel? Phone a friend?

SONJA raises her drink and smiles, throwing her hair back in dramatic fashion, clutching her chest in horror.

SONJA CUCHILLA Don’t you dare do this to protect me, Juanny Juala! Besides! It’s too late! I’m pregnant and the father….

BLAZE CLAYMORE …is your OTHER BROTHER! SHAO JUAN!

SONJA CUCHILLA throws her head back in laughter at BLAZE’s impassioned recital. BLAZE meanwhile turns as red as his robe, looking down at the countertop until SONJA stops laughing and scooches closer to BLAZE.

SONJA CUCHILLA I knew you’d remember.

BLAZE looks up, both legitimately embarrassed and for the first time in a long time, star struck.

BLAZE CLAYMORE How in the world… why are you here? And how do you even remember who I am?

SONJA CUCHILLA Oh… you know. My husband needs space, I don’t know my kids’ birthdays. Everyone wanted Karla Sofia Gascon as their spokesperson until Tweetgate happened and so they got me instead … so here I am hocking kitchenware in late night infomercials.

BLAZE CLAYMORE But… you are an amazing actress. Star of “La Compañía de Cuatro,” “Todos Aman a Raúl,” and “Beatriz: La Cazavampiros.“

SONJA looks longingly at her drink and sighs.

SONJA CUCHILLA That was a long time ago… before our movie crashed and burned… then COVID… and by the time the industry was back on its feet, the world had moved on in more ways than one. So… here I am; scraping what little I can from my 15 minutes of fame so that I don’t become destitute and alone at 35 years old.

BLAZE hesitates; not sure what to say. SONJA, however, turns and looks at BLAZE, grabbing his wrist.

SONJA CUCHILLA But you? I mean… you’re famous. You… you… got out of that production just before it cratered and then you won a SAG award for your role as “Guy Fleeing in the Park” from “Trial of the Chicago 7” and then you went into wrestling and were actually arrested! The scandal! It was in all the papers.

BLAZE CLAYMORE All… the papers?

BLAZE shakes his head.

BLAZE CLAYMORE Sorry. I… I’ve tried to avoid the media lately. Part of my terms of conditional release and all that….

SONJA CUCHILLA smiles and takes a sip of her drink.

SONJA CUCHILLA No need to be sorry, Blaze. In fact, of anyone in “Lucha Morta, Amor Inmortal” you were the one person, cast, crew, and otherwise to not only get out unscathed, but on top. Cheers to that.

BLAZE looks around, realizing he has nothing to cheers with; however, the bartender is already in position and slides BLAZE his own cosmopolitan. As he looks up, “The Main Event” clinks his glass against SONJA’s – his smile forced and holding back the bile forming a pit in his stomach. ****

Blaze Claymore sits at the edge of a hotel bed, looking up as the digital clock on the desk in front of him blinks “2:15” back at him. He turns his head to see the bright lights of Tokyo stretching for miles and miles and then turns one final quarter turn to see Sonja Cuchilla lying asleep in his bed, softly snoring under the covers.

It’s hard for Blaze not to let a smile cross his lips as his leg bounces up and down vigorously - nervously.

What…. What was this feeling?

Blaze runs a hand down his face before reaching over onto the desk and snagging his phone, pulling it from its charger and standing up and grabbing his red robe to cover his modesty as he makes his way to the hotel room’s bathroom and closes the bathroom door softly.

The “Main Event” unlocks his phone with his thumbprint and finds the voice recording device. He opens the app and clicks “record” … letting the silence of the space fill the void initially before steadying his shaky hand.

Blaze Claymore: Nathan… this is Blaze. I… I know we haven’t been on good terms with me, you know, putting us in prison and all by kidnapping the chief of staff of a multi-million dollar company and blaming it on a massive conspiracy, but the doctors say we’re doing better now. And… we even got released. On probation. To fight in Japan. Though, I suppose you’ve already figured that much out.

Blaze’s voice quivers.

Blaze Claymore: Honestly, the days all kind of run together; which you know. But today… today for the first time in a long time I feel like we’re getting better. We won our first match in PRIME… and now we’ve got a massive free for all match at the company’s next pay per view.

Blaze looks up at the closed door, knees jostling.

Blaze Claymore: And all we need… all we need is just to show people that we aren’t fuck ups. All we need is to just not fuck up again. Because that’s what we do, Nathan. Well, it’s… me. Actually. I’m the one who fucks up. Fuck everything up. But I’m trying… I’m really trying not to this time...

Blaze takes a staggered breath.

Blaze Claymore: So all I ask… is that when you wake up tomorrow with a beautiful woman next to you in your hotel bed, you don’t fuck it up for me. Because the second you do? The second she suspects something? You know what that means…

Blaze grips the edges of his phone.

Blaze Claymore: I know I don’t deserve your trust… but, if we’re going to get out of this thing unscathed? We’re going to need to work together. Okay?

Blaze closes his eyes and sighs.

Blaze Claymore: Okay…

Blaze pressing the square “STOP” button with his finger and then rapidly typing on the keyboard: “For Nathan: Urgent” before letting his arms fall to his side, his phone gently falling to the tile floor as he drifts off into darkness.