'The Men Who Do Things' - JD Drake 01 (vs. Eddie Kingston)

---

Wingmen’s.



The gaudy neon sign lit on and off.



‘Piece Of Your Action’ by Motley Crue invades the airwaves.



We go inside. The celebration goes down. All 3 or 4 of the patrons. Two ‘regulars’: the old shirtless homeless guy. The underage high school boy. Two unknowns: a couple college-aged pals who caught a #Wingmens hashtag posted by Jessica McKay, and wanted to see the goods.



Then the esteemed guests. Well, all two of them. The scantily-dressed McKay ‘danced’ in a cage, dryhumping one of them, her best friend Cassie Lee. The other, poor Ruby Soho, glanced on from afar, not bemused. Matt Sydal politely declined Nemeth’s invitation. Eddie Kingston ignored it.



Bononi mans his post by the dancers, but can barely keep his balance, clearly inebriated.



Drake oversees the arcade and the bowling alley, fully coherent and sober.



Avalon serves as bartender, slightly tipsy, taking swigs of the beers he serves to the patrons before handing them over. Soho stands against the bar counter. They both contemptuously stare down McKay.



AVALON: Repulsive.



RUBY SOHO: Disgusting.



Their expressive faces turn to each other, intrigued.



AVALON: Just about the worst person in the world.



RUBY SOHO: She could basically be an evil dictator.



AVALON: And yet, if she were said dictator, all her subjects would immediately kill themselves at the first royal address!



RUBY SOHO: That’s if her country was even able to feed them so they’d be there.



AVALON: Worse than North Korea!



RUBY SOHO: Worse than Imperial Japan!



AVALON: Worse than Nazi Germany!



RUBY SOHO: Worse than Modern Japan!



Avalon raises a brow, confused.



Ryan Nemeth zips over to Soho, stumbling the whole time, drunk off his ass, staring right at her.



NEMETH: Hey Petey! Time for the speech!



She’s viscerally annoyed after that brief pleasure.



RUBY SOHO: Oh fuck off.



With that, she strutted out of there, slamming the door on her way out.



The door shatters in pieces. Now there’s no door.



NEMETH: Oh no!



AVALON: Our door is no longer forbidden, Ryan! This is a good thing!



NEMETH: So that means anyone can come in!



AVALON: Possibilities are endless!



NEMETH: …Speech speech speech speech!



Beat.



JD Drake, with no action at his posts, trudges over to his two compadres.



NEMETH: Did you hear that, Jimmy? They want a speech.



JD DRAKE: Think that was you who said that, boss.



NEMETH: Speech…speech.



JD DRAKE: Yeah. That was you.



NEMETH: Speech…speech…speech.



JD DRAKE: You again.



NEMETH: SPEECH SPEECH SPEECH!



JD DRAKE: Pretty damn sure it’s you.



NEMETH: Time to give them what they want, Joey!



Nemeth swings over to what appears to be a makeshift ‘stage’. It’s actually just a little wooden platform, about eight feet wide and tall, set in the middle of the bar. He at least has a microphone in hand.



NEMETH: Hey everybody! Thank you for coming here tonight.



Complete apathy of a reaction. Everyone continues what they were doing; that is, being entranced by McKay and Cassie.



Nemeth almost falls down, then adjusts himself.



NEMETH: As you know, this is a momentous night. We fought long and hard for this! We went to prison. We survived all the things that normally happen to you in prison. Like getting fucked in the ass. And shitty food. And strong racial tensions. And gang wars and cafeteria fights. And a furious legal battle. But here we are anyway!



He bows his chest out proudly, before dropping straight to the concrete and project-tile vomiting everywhere, and also shitting himself.



Nobody pays any mind, still focused on the strippers, including Avalon, reveling in his contempt.



JD Drake has had enough, shaking his head. He pounds his heavy feet to the stage, picking up Nemeth’s fallen microphone, wiping the vomit off with his shirt. As Nemeth lays unconscious in his own filth, Drake commands the stage.



JD DRAKE: Enough of this bullshit!



Drake barks with intensity. A rabid beast. A beast he’s kept within so far, that has been begging to come out.



He SLAMS his big boot into the ground to remind everyone that he’s unhinged and borderline batshit crazy. Drake gives everyone in the place the finger.



JD DRAKE: What do you think this is, huh? Who do you think The Wingmen are? We went into New York, the biggest city in the WORLD, and we walked out CHAMPIONS. And nah, nah NAH. It ain’t matterin’ how we did it. The fact is we DID. AND WHAT ARE Y’ALL GONNA DO ABOUT IT?



It was a primal scream. The shriek of a hunter. Of an alpha. Even in the presence of the risque dancers, they couldn’t help but look. He couldn’t help but SEIZE their attention.



JD DRAKE: SOMEBODY BRING ME THE GOD DAMN CHAMPIONSHIPS! I SAID BRING ‘EM TO ME!



Drake angrily beckons for the straps with his hands. Avalon and Bononi scurry over to him, each holding one half of the Tag Titles. Bononi quickly relinquishes the title to Drake, acknowledging the dominant animal in this moment. Avalon has a harder time, but even he is not a fool sometimes, gesturing with the title to Drake, who INDIGNANTLY yanks it away.



JD hoists both belts in the air. The microphone drops. He doesn’t even need it.



JD DRAKE: WHAT DO YOU THINK THESE ARE? WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY MEAN? These are symbols of greatness! Of domination! Of bein’ the TOP DOGS. But instead what the HELL are The Wingmen known for? Sinnin’. Debauchery. Jail. Kidnappin’. Runnin’ this campy fuckin’ bar! WHEN INSTEAD THEY SHOULD BE KNOWN FOR BEIN’ THE BEST AT WHAT THEY DO!



Everyone in the bar was consumed by the powerful JD Drake. Normally he would have to catch his breath after screaming for so long, but not tonight. He kept going without stopping.



JD DRAKE: Because that’s what we are, damn it! We’re The Wingmen! We ain’t no bar. We ain’t no rejects. We ain’t no kidnappers. We ain’t no prisoners! WE MAKE YOU OUR PRISONERS! YOU’RE THE PRISONERS. AND WE MAKE YOU OUR BITCH!



Drake sticks his tongue out like a madman, a wild werewolf.



JD DRAKE: YOU THINK WE CARE? YOU THINK WE GIVE A SHIT THAT YOU SAID NO TO COMIN’ HERE TONIGHT? DO ‘YA, EDDIE KINGSTON?



Still sticking his tongue out, he beckons for the ‘camera’ to come closer. The ‘camera’ does, getting a disturbing closeup of the bestial Drake.



JD DRAKE: RAAAAHHHHHHHH. That’s what we think about you, Kingston! That’s what we think about you! …What the hell do you think you’re gonna do? You think you can stop us? You think you can stop ME? JD DRAKE, THE BLUE COLLAR BADASS! …You always wanna talk about hard times, about growin’ up on the streets, about not havin’ it easy. BUT I NEVER HAD IT EASY. I’VE ONLY EVER HAD IT HARD! AND EVEN WITH SUCCESS, EVEN WITH THESE SHINY-ASS CHAMPIONSHIPS, STILL NOBODY WANTS TO LOOK AT ME. STILL NOBODY WANTS TO RECOGNIZE ME!



Drake slaps his chest, ever resentful.



JD DRAKE: It’s always about Nemeth! About Avalon! Or even about that WHORE McKay! But it ain’t about the men WHO DO THINGS. It ain’t about me, about Bononi! Because we DO THINGS, Kingston. JD DRAKE DOES THINGS. What do you do? What have you DONE, but run your damn mouth, but bitch and moan about your hard times AND DONE NOTHIN’ ABOUT IT?!



He points at the ‘camera’.



JD DRAKE: DAMN IT, WE ALREADY BEAT YOU! You gave it everythin’, and we ALREADY BEAT YOU! They say The Wingmen are a buncha’ clowns?! But if that’s true, then you got embarrassed by THE CLOWN OF THE CLOWNS! You lost to a woman, Kingston! YOU LOST TO OUR DAMN COURT JESTER! HAHAHAHA!



It was not a happy smile. It was a freakishly disconcerting smile. The smile of The Devil.



JD DRAKE: You say YOU THE KING, Kingston! BUT YOU LOST TO A COURT JESTER! So what the FUCK is gonna happen when you step in there with THE REAL KING. THE REAL KING OF THE WINGMEN! The man who QUIETLY sits on his throne, waitin’ to strike, but only when it’s smart. Only when it’s on time. Because he’s a wise man. He don’t fight just to fight. He picks his battles when he KNOWS they must be FOUGHT. And you must be fought!



His eyes bug out of his head. Incensed.



JD DRAKE: YOU MUST BE FOUGHT! For you are a lie! You talk about struggle, BUT I AM STRUGGLE! And I am done with the lies! The king has thought carefully. The king has thought mightily. AND IT’S OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!



Drake mocks swinging an axe with his hands.



JD DRAKE: And with your head Kingston. When it flies OFF your neck, all y’all gonna recognize. The Wingmen ain’t no joke. JD Drake ain’t no joke. We gonna use your head as a trophy. As a reminder. That when you doubt The Wingmen, when you stand on your pedestal and you preach your lies, you gonna become that head. You gonna become that head.



Dramatic pause.



JD DRAKE: And THAT is the way it is.