INT. BERLIN NIGHTCLUB – BACKSTAGE – DIMLY LIT – NIGHT
Smoke curls around dusty purple curtains. The faint echo of “November Rain” fades into silence. AXL ROSE, mid-50s, wild-eyed, wearing a PURPLE JACKET with a SILVER CROSS dangling from his neck, sits in a chair. He’s sweating, jittery, half-wired, half-lost. Across from him stands JOHN CONNOR – older now, steely but calm, with the eyes of a war veteran who’s seen Judgment Day and survived it.
JOHN CONNOR
(quietly, almost tender)
You know it’s not bipolar disorder, right?
AXL ROSE
(grinning, shaky)
Oh? You a shrink now, Johnny boy?
JOHN CONNOR
No. But I know a messiah complex when I see one.
John nods toward Axl’s outfit.
JOHN CONNOR (cont’d)
The purple jacket… the cross… You think nobody notices? It’s the same robe they threw on Jesus before they mocked him.
AXL ROSE
(smirking)
I wear it because it looks cool.
JOHN CONNOR
You wear it because deep down, you know. You’re not just screaming into a mic. You want to be the one who saves them. But let me tell you something—jumping around and screaming isn’t enough.
Beat.
JOHN CONNOR (cont’d)
It takes prophecy. Sacrifice. Rising from the ashes when everyone else gave up. You tried, Axl. You really tried.
AXL ROSE
(shrugs, bitter)
Well, I failed, didn’t I?
JOHN CONNOR
You fell. That’s different. The fall’s not the end, man. The dream still lives.
Axl looks down. His hands tremble. He fumbles for a cigarette.
JOHN CONNOR (firmly)
No. No more of that. I’m building something in Europe. A place. Quiet. Clean. We’re calling it the Dream Clinic.
AXL ROSE
(scoffs)
Sounds like a rehab with pillows.
JOHN CONNOR
It’s not rehab. It’s resurrection. We treat the soul there, not just the body. We get the legends off the drugs, off the cigarettes, off the shame—and we bring them back to the people who still believe.
Axl looks up. For the first time, his expression softens.
AXL ROSE
And you think I still got a shot?
JOHN CONNOR
I think you’re not done yet. But the world’s not gonna wait forever. You have to want to come back.
AXL ROSE
(long pause)
And if I say yes?
JOHN CONNOR
Then you start walking. No cameras. No applause. Just one foot in front of the other, until you’re back in the light.
John steps forward, places a gentle hand on Axl’s shoulder.
JOHN CONNOR (softly)
We need you. But we need all of you. Not the ghost. Not the broken man in the jacket. The real Axl.
Beat. Axl exhales. Slowly, he takes the cigarette from his lips, crushes it underfoot.
AXL ROSE
Alright, John. One more encore.
FADE OUT.
