Post by Simply Beautiful on Apr 22, 2007 15:08:07 GMT -5
Fade in on an unfamiliar face. Hazel green eyes, dirty blonde hair, and slightly chubby cheeks (it seems no matter how much weight one loses from adolescence, they always keep those), and a look of twitchy nervousness, spotted with some freckles and a pox scar. His eyes roll from side to side, surveying a situation seeable only by him. The camera pans out…he’s in a dark alleyway.
The very stamping ground of a certain Harvester of Sorrow. He walks on a few steps more. He can feel something coming, but he shakes his head at the nonsensical thought. ‘This is not a movie’, he must have assured himself. He was right, since real life is often a lot worse than the movies. Suddenly, a garbage can is overturned in front of him, and he jumps back. He screams and looks around, demanding to know ‘who is out there!’. But this man answers to no one or nothing but the urges within. He spins around – right into the statuesque Brian Bruno, staring coldly ahead!
Flash forward, present time. SB and Det. Ryan are walking down the corridor of a very busy hospital.
Ryan: So, um, if I might ask; what do you do for a living?
SB: I’m a professional wrestler.
Ryan: (chuckles) No!
SB: Yeah, now that’s real damn funny.
Ryan: No, it’s just – you don’t look the type, that’s all.
SB: I don’t?
Ryan: Well aren’t those guys all really big, like that guy who shaved Donald Trump’s head?
SB: You’re confusing me with a sports entertainer, bub. Big guys like that sure as hell aren’t wrestlers. If you asked ‘em to do an inside cradle they’d throw their backs out.
Ryan: Yeah, but, they’re cool to watch, wouldn’t you say?
SB: If you’re an idiot, yeah. But then again, a lot of people used to watch MXC. So what’s that tell you about TV?
Ryan: What’s an MXC?
SB: Little Japanese men running into walls while wearing diapers on their heads.
Ryan: How could that NOT be funny?!?
SB: Sheeshhhh.
Ryan: Oh, here’s the room. 245.
SB: Wasn’t it 247?
Ryan: Ehhhh….nope, says 245 here.
SB: (taking the paper) That’s a seven.
Ryan: All the same, right?
SB: No. A seven and five are definitely not the same, especially when one room has an important witness inside, and the other has (looking at the door) some old lady getting a new hip.
Ryan: Yeah (to himself) if you want to be picky.
SB opens the door first, and takes a good look at the man laying in the hospital table…it’s the same man we just saw earlier!
SB: What’re injuries?
Man: You could ask me, I’m right here ya know?
Ryan: Fair enough. How you holding up?
Man: Broken ribs, dislocated jaw, and a pretty serious cut over my left eye, as you can see. How the (BLEEP) do you think I’m holding up Serpico?
SB: Did you get a good look at who did this to you?
Ryan: That’s sorta my job there, SB.
SB: Shut up, Neil.
Ryan: You can’t tell me to shut up!
SB: Neil – shut the hell up.
Ryan: (quietly) Okay.
But the man can’t speak…he’s been “asked” not to.
FLASHBACK.
The man lies in his hospital bed, ringing the nurse bell. He’s been trying for about 10 minutes, but this staff is slower than extra slow-cooked molasses. He rings it again – and a large, burly black male nurse, or a murse if you watch Scrubs – strolls in. Holy shit.
When did Brian Bruno become master of disguise?
Bruno: Hello, Mr. Talbot.
The man trembles in fear, and tries in vain to curl up into a ball. Bruno walks up to him and puts a hand over his mouth.
Bruno: Don’t make a sound. Do you feel me (grabs his throat) squeezing your neck? Say one word to the police, and the last thing you’ll hear is me snapping it. I’m luring an old friend of mine into a trap – you’re the bait, human. You will keep him and whatever law enforcement he’s with here until you receive my signal (lets go of his throat and grabs a small cell phone) this phone will ring. Don’t answer it. Do you understand?
He nods. Bruno smiles, a sick soulless smile.
PRESENT TIME. Close up on the man’s face, a twisted mass of bruised flesh and fear.
Man: It was dark, man. I couldn’t see anything at all. It’s all like a blur now. I – I don’t even know if it was a human or some freakin’ escaped animal from the zoo.
Ryan: I really doubt it was an escaped –
SB: SHUT UP NEIL! Why don’t you go outside?
The world’s worst detective offers little protest, and just shuffles outside.
SB: So you couldn’t get a good glimpse?
Man: No. It was too dark, like I said.
SB: The nature of the attack says the evidence all points to Brian Bruno. He’s an…”old friend” of mine.
The man’s eyes light up momentarily, but he restrains himself. He licks his lips apprehensively.
Man: I don’t know who that is.
SB: I think you do.
Man: No, I don’t. And if you’re going to badger me, you can get the hell out of here. NURSE!
SB: Calm the (BLEEP) down, sunshine. Nobody’s gonna call anybody.
Just then, the cell phone rings. SB turns to look at it, but the man grabs it before he can and tucks it in tight.
SB: Who the hell is calling you at this hour while laying up in the hospital.
Man: NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!
RING RING
SB: So answer it then.
RING! RING!
Man: I will when I want to…and right now, I don’t!
RING! RING!!! RINGGGG!!!!!
SB: Give it to me then, I’ll tell 'em to leave you alone.
Man: I’m not supposed to answer it!
RING RING RING RING!
SB: Gimme the damn phone! (rips it from the man and flips it open) Hello?!?!
No answer.
SB: Hello? (he looks at the phone, and checks the recent calls)
His house number...
Cut to Brian Bruno, receiver to ear, cackling like a madman. He slams the phone off the wall, and holds a letter up high to the light before tearing the envelope to shreds.
Bruno: Dear Brian…I gave this letter to Andrew to give to you once you got help. I love you, and I want you to come find me in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. – Em.
Bruno: North Carolina? I’ll be damned!
More sick laughter…he throws his head back and roars, a deep, disturbing belly laugh. He walks out the front door and slams it shut behind him. We hear his laugh once more – and then nothing.
The very stamping ground of a certain Harvester of Sorrow. He walks on a few steps more. He can feel something coming, but he shakes his head at the nonsensical thought. ‘This is not a movie’, he must have assured himself. He was right, since real life is often a lot worse than the movies. Suddenly, a garbage can is overturned in front of him, and he jumps back. He screams and looks around, demanding to know ‘who is out there!’. But this man answers to no one or nothing but the urges within. He spins around – right into the statuesque Brian Bruno, staring coldly ahead!
Flash forward, present time. SB and Det. Ryan are walking down the corridor of a very busy hospital.
Ryan: So, um, if I might ask; what do you do for a living?
SB: I’m a professional wrestler.
Ryan: (chuckles) No!
SB: Yeah, now that’s real damn funny.
Ryan: No, it’s just – you don’t look the type, that’s all.
SB: I don’t?
Ryan: Well aren’t those guys all really big, like that guy who shaved Donald Trump’s head?
SB: You’re confusing me with a sports entertainer, bub. Big guys like that sure as hell aren’t wrestlers. If you asked ‘em to do an inside cradle they’d throw their backs out.
Ryan: Yeah, but, they’re cool to watch, wouldn’t you say?
SB: If you’re an idiot, yeah. But then again, a lot of people used to watch MXC. So what’s that tell you about TV?
Ryan: What’s an MXC?
SB: Little Japanese men running into walls while wearing diapers on their heads.
Ryan: How could that NOT be funny?!?
SB: Sheeshhhh.
Ryan: Oh, here’s the room. 245.
SB: Wasn’t it 247?
Ryan: Ehhhh….nope, says 245 here.
SB: (taking the paper) That’s a seven.
Ryan: All the same, right?
SB: No. A seven and five are definitely not the same, especially when one room has an important witness inside, and the other has (looking at the door) some old lady getting a new hip.
Ryan: Yeah (to himself) if you want to be picky.
SB opens the door first, and takes a good look at the man laying in the hospital table…it’s the same man we just saw earlier!
SB: What’re injuries?
Man: You could ask me, I’m right here ya know?
Ryan: Fair enough. How you holding up?
Man: Broken ribs, dislocated jaw, and a pretty serious cut over my left eye, as you can see. How the (BLEEP) do you think I’m holding up Serpico?
SB: Did you get a good look at who did this to you?
Ryan: That’s sorta my job there, SB.
SB: Shut up, Neil.
Ryan: You can’t tell me to shut up!
SB: Neil – shut the hell up.
Ryan: (quietly) Okay.
But the man can’t speak…he’s been “asked” not to.
FLASHBACK.
The man lies in his hospital bed, ringing the nurse bell. He’s been trying for about 10 minutes, but this staff is slower than extra slow-cooked molasses. He rings it again – and a large, burly black male nurse, or a murse if you watch Scrubs – strolls in. Holy shit.
When did Brian Bruno become master of disguise?
Bruno: Hello, Mr. Talbot.
The man trembles in fear, and tries in vain to curl up into a ball. Bruno walks up to him and puts a hand over his mouth.
Bruno: Don’t make a sound. Do you feel me (grabs his throat) squeezing your neck? Say one word to the police, and the last thing you’ll hear is me snapping it. I’m luring an old friend of mine into a trap – you’re the bait, human. You will keep him and whatever law enforcement he’s with here until you receive my signal (lets go of his throat and grabs a small cell phone) this phone will ring. Don’t answer it. Do you understand?
He nods. Bruno smiles, a sick soulless smile.
PRESENT TIME. Close up on the man’s face, a twisted mass of bruised flesh and fear.
Man: It was dark, man. I couldn’t see anything at all. It’s all like a blur now. I – I don’t even know if it was a human or some freakin’ escaped animal from the zoo.
Ryan: I really doubt it was an escaped –
SB: SHUT UP NEIL! Why don’t you go outside?
The world’s worst detective offers little protest, and just shuffles outside.
SB: So you couldn’t get a good glimpse?
Man: No. It was too dark, like I said.
SB: The nature of the attack says the evidence all points to Brian Bruno. He’s an…”old friend” of mine.
The man’s eyes light up momentarily, but he restrains himself. He licks his lips apprehensively.
Man: I don’t know who that is.
SB: I think you do.
Man: No, I don’t. And if you’re going to badger me, you can get the hell out of here. NURSE!
SB: Calm the (BLEEP) down, sunshine. Nobody’s gonna call anybody.
Just then, the cell phone rings. SB turns to look at it, but the man grabs it before he can and tucks it in tight.
SB: Who the hell is calling you at this hour while laying up in the hospital.
Man: NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!
RING RING
SB: So answer it then.
RING! RING!
Man: I will when I want to…and right now, I don’t!
RING! RING!!! RINGGGG!!!!!
SB: Give it to me then, I’ll tell 'em to leave you alone.
Man: I’m not supposed to answer it!
RING RING RING RING!
SB: Gimme the damn phone! (rips it from the man and flips it open) Hello?!?!
No answer.
SB: Hello? (he looks at the phone, and checks the recent calls)
His house number...
Cut to Brian Bruno, receiver to ear, cackling like a madman. He slams the phone off the wall, and holds a letter up high to the light before tearing the envelope to shreds.
Bruno: Dear Brian…I gave this letter to Andrew to give to you once you got help. I love you, and I want you to come find me in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. – Em.
Bruno: North Carolina? I’ll be damned!
More sick laughter…he throws his head back and roars, a deep, disturbing belly laugh. He walks out the front door and slams it shut behind him. We hear his laugh once more – and then nothing.