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Post by Iago [REBEL] on Apr 29, 2007 13:33:11 GMT -5
Click. Snap. Lights on. The chess game is progressing now. It looks like a few pieces may have been captured on both sides. The black gloved hand has just moved a white knight into the fray, trying to put pressure on the black rook. The well manicured player needs to relieve that pressure. The hand taps it's finger on the board near the black king, then the focus shifts to the foreground where a white bishop and the white queen sit.
It's evening, outside of the Ramada Inn, near the RBC Center. We open with a shot of a rental car pulling into a parking space in the lot. The car comes to a stop and turns off, and the doors pop open. Out from the driver side steps Bill Fleming, manager to the stars, the mayor of television. Across from him, Tiffany McIntyre pops out from the passenger side.
TIFFANY: ...just saying that he could have stuck around and eaten with us is all, I mean we ordered pancakes for him before he got there.
BILL:[/i] Are you still hung up on that? Tiffany, you know how wrestlers can get; moreover, you know how Bruce can get.
TIFFANY: I know... it's just... it was inconsiderate of him is all.
BILL: Bruce's a good guy. I'm sure he'll make it up to you.
Bill glances at his watch, then over toward the hotel pub. Suddenly, he looks a little pensive. Tiffany raises an eyebrow.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bill... I know that look. What're you up to?
BILL:[/b] Nothing. Nothing's up. Look, I've got some business to deal with, why don't you head upstairs and I'll call you later.
Tiffany looks suspicious, and for a moment seems like she's going to call him on this, but then just shrugs. She catches the car keys that Bill tosses her and heads into the hotel. Bill Fleming watches her go for a moment, then, after another glance at his watch, makes a bee-line to the pub. Currently, it isn't all that busy, and the few people around are socializing in the friendly environment. Bill glances around for a minute, seems to notice someone, and then walks over to a booth nestled into a corner.
BILL:[/b] Sorry to be late.
The camera pans down to the person he was talking to. Ringmaster Iago smiles up at him.
IAGO:[/b] No worries, Mr. Fleming. Please, have a seat. We have some business to discuss.
Tiffany walks down the corridor of the well appointed Ramada hotel. She stops at a room - we can't see the number - and slides her card into the slot. There's a click, and she opens the door to the dark room. A strange huffing sound comes from within the darkness. Tiffany stands there for a second, looking pensive.
TIFFANY: Hello?
There's no answer. Tiffany steps into the room slowly, reaches out, and flicks on the light.
The room is empty. The air-conditioner built into the window thrums to itself, making a strange huffing sound. Tiffany sighs.
TIFFANY:[/b] Stupid thing. I should really make mention of it to the clerk at the desk later.
She walks over and flicks off the AC. It wheezes to a stop. Is there water running in the bathroom? Tiffany perks up, and glances over at the closed bathroom door. There's no light on, but the sound of running water is unmistakable.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bruce? Honey? Is that you?
She walks toward the door, and knocks softly.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bruce? I didn't expect to see you back so soon.
There's no answer. Tiffany furrows her brow. And tries the handle. The door is unlocked. She opens it, shedding only a little light into the otherwise dark bathroom. She turns on the light.
The bathroom is empty. The faucet has been left on, carelessly, and is running a bit into the sink. Tiffany sighs and turns it off.
TIFFANY:[/b] I swear, for such a neat-freak, he can sure be inattentive when he's in a rush.
There's a knock at the door. Tiffany turns and glances through the peep-hole, then opens the door to the room. A dusky skinned man stands there in a hotel uniform.
MAN:[/b] Miss Tiffany McIntyre?
TIFFANY: That's me.
The man hands her a large brown envelope.
MAN:[/b] This was delivered for you earlier today.
Tiffany takes it, eyebrow arched.
TIFFANY:[/b] I'm not expecting any packages... oh well, thanks.
The man gives a respectful half-bow, and starts back down the hallway. The camera, for some reason, starts following him, leaving Tiffany behind. It follows him around the corner, where the man bumps into someone.
MAN:[/b] Oh, excuse me, I... you!
Miranda smiles at him.
MIRANDA:[/b] Did you do as I asked?
The man gulps and nods.
MIRANDA:[/b] Good.
She pulls out a crisp, American fifty dollar bill and slides it into his breast pocket. The man gives her a respectful half-bow and hurries away. Miranda smiles to herself.
Bill has a pint in front of him, and stares into it unhappily. Iago sits across from him, still smiling.
BILL:[/b] Please understand, Mr. Iago, that I'm only meeting with you because it's in the best interests of my client. Normally, I wouldn't do this sort of thing.
IAGO:[/b] I understand perfectly, Mr. Fleming. You, like I, want only the best for Bruce Richards.
Bill glances up.
BILL:[/b] I'm not sure I follow.
IAGO:[/b] Let us be frank, Bill. You and I are both confident that Bruce cannot defeat Caliban this Tuesday.
Bill regards Iago coldly. His eyes narrow a bit.
BILL:[/b] I have nothing but faith in Bruce "the Beast" Richards.
IAGO:[/b] I'm sure you do, but this is no ordinary opponent is it? Caliban is a head above the usual competition he faces, and you're concerned that Bruce may not be able to match his ferocity.
BILL:[/b] They don't call my client "the Beast" for nothing, Mr. Iago.
IAGO:[/b] I'm sure they don't. But your expression betrays you. This is different, isn't it?
Bill angrily glares into his beer.
IAGO:[/b] Mr. Fleming, I am a man who creates monsters. That is what I do, and I do it well. Caliban is the jewel of my collection. He is, in no uncertain terms, a monster. He has no mercy, no remorse. He doesn't have compassion or empathy. In that ring, this Tuesday, Bruce will be just another kind of prey for Caliban to hunt. This isn't a matter of pride. This isn't a matter of dominance. This is the simple matter that Caliban can - and will - hurt your client, regardless of the outcome of the match.
Bill sips his beer.
BILL:[/b] I know that. And, I'll add, so does Bruce.
Iago's smile doesn't fade, but his eyes get colder.
IAGO:[/b] There is still time to talk him out of the match...
Bill Fleming finishes his beer, and rises in one motion. He slams the empty glass down on the table.
BILL:[/b] Mr. Iago. Thank you for the beer. But I'll reiterate. I have complete faith in the Beast. He knows what he walked into here, and I will support his decision.
Bill's cellphone abruptly rings. He starts fishing around for it.
IAGO:[/b] I'm pleased by your decision. I, too, have faith in the Beast. But not in Bruce Richards.
BILL:[/b] Well, thanks, I guess... where's my phone...
IAGO:[/b] I will not be held responsible for what is to come, then.
BILL:[/b] Great, but... hold on just a sec... ah!
Bill pulls his cell out of a pocket and flips it open.
BILL:[/b] Bill Fleming speaking.
Tiffany sits on the bed in the hotel room. She's holding some papers in one hand, and the phone in the other. She looks distraught.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bill, it's Tiffany. I need you up here right now, and call Bruce.
The camera pans around her as she talks, focusing in on the papers she's holding. The first is a picture of Miranda and Caliban... standing in her hotel room. Someone has written on the photo, "We know where to find you". The second photo is Stylin' Kyle Roberts' headshot. In the same handwriting, "And now so does he."
Bill looks concerned.
BILL:[/b] I'll be right up, Tiffany. Stay there.
Bill hangs up and turns to say something to Ringmaster Iago... but Iago is gone.
The well manicured hand finishes placing his queen. Click. The black gloved hand clenches into a fist and slams the table hard enough to shake the pieces.
Lights down.
- Tiffany McIntyre and Bill Fleming used with excessively generous permission.
It's evening, outside of the Ramada Inn, near the RBC Center. We open with a shot of a rental car pulling into a parking space in the lot. The car comes to a stop and turns off, and the doors pop open. Out from the driver side steps Bill Fleming, manager to the stars, the mayor of television. Across from him, Tiffany McIntyre pops out from the passenger side.
TIFFANY: ...just saying that he could have stuck around and eaten with us is all, I mean we ordered pancakes for him before he got there.
BILL:[/i] Are you still hung up on that? Tiffany, you know how wrestlers can get; moreover, you know how Bruce can get.
TIFFANY: I know... it's just... it was inconsiderate of him is all.
BILL: Bruce's a good guy. I'm sure he'll make it up to you.
Bill glances at his watch, then over toward the hotel pub. Suddenly, he looks a little pensive. Tiffany raises an eyebrow.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bill... I know that look. What're you up to?
BILL:[/b] Nothing. Nothing's up. Look, I've got some business to deal with, why don't you head upstairs and I'll call you later.
Tiffany looks suspicious, and for a moment seems like she's going to call him on this, but then just shrugs. She catches the car keys that Bill tosses her and heads into the hotel. Bill Fleming watches her go for a moment, then, after another glance at his watch, makes a bee-line to the pub. Currently, it isn't all that busy, and the few people around are socializing in the friendly environment. Bill glances around for a minute, seems to notice someone, and then walks over to a booth nestled into a corner.
BILL:[/b] Sorry to be late.
The camera pans down to the person he was talking to. Ringmaster Iago smiles up at him.
IAGO:[/b] No worries, Mr. Fleming. Please, have a seat. We have some business to discuss.
Tiffany walks down the corridor of the well appointed Ramada hotel. She stops at a room - we can't see the number - and slides her card into the slot. There's a click, and she opens the door to the dark room. A strange huffing sound comes from within the darkness. Tiffany stands there for a second, looking pensive.
TIFFANY: Hello?
There's no answer. Tiffany steps into the room slowly, reaches out, and flicks on the light.
The room is empty. The air-conditioner built into the window thrums to itself, making a strange huffing sound. Tiffany sighs.
TIFFANY:[/b] Stupid thing. I should really make mention of it to the clerk at the desk later.
She walks over and flicks off the AC. It wheezes to a stop. Is there water running in the bathroom? Tiffany perks up, and glances over at the closed bathroom door. There's no light on, but the sound of running water is unmistakable.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bruce? Honey? Is that you?
She walks toward the door, and knocks softly.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bruce? I didn't expect to see you back so soon.
There's no answer. Tiffany furrows her brow. And tries the handle. The door is unlocked. She opens it, shedding only a little light into the otherwise dark bathroom. She turns on the light.
The bathroom is empty. The faucet has been left on, carelessly, and is running a bit into the sink. Tiffany sighs and turns it off.
TIFFANY:[/b] I swear, for such a neat-freak, he can sure be inattentive when he's in a rush.
There's a knock at the door. Tiffany turns and glances through the peep-hole, then opens the door to the room. A dusky skinned man stands there in a hotel uniform.
MAN:[/b] Miss Tiffany McIntyre?
TIFFANY: That's me.
The man hands her a large brown envelope.
MAN:[/b] This was delivered for you earlier today.
Tiffany takes it, eyebrow arched.
TIFFANY:[/b] I'm not expecting any packages... oh well, thanks.
The man gives a respectful half-bow, and starts back down the hallway. The camera, for some reason, starts following him, leaving Tiffany behind. It follows him around the corner, where the man bumps into someone.
MAN:[/b] Oh, excuse me, I... you!
Miranda smiles at him.
MIRANDA:[/b] Did you do as I asked?
The man gulps and nods.
MIRANDA:[/b] Good.
She pulls out a crisp, American fifty dollar bill and slides it into his breast pocket. The man gives her a respectful half-bow and hurries away. Miranda smiles to herself.
Bill has a pint in front of him, and stares into it unhappily. Iago sits across from him, still smiling.
BILL:[/b] Please understand, Mr. Iago, that I'm only meeting with you because it's in the best interests of my client. Normally, I wouldn't do this sort of thing.
IAGO:[/b] I understand perfectly, Mr. Fleming. You, like I, want only the best for Bruce Richards.
Bill glances up.
BILL:[/b] I'm not sure I follow.
IAGO:[/b] Let us be frank, Bill. You and I are both confident that Bruce cannot defeat Caliban this Tuesday.
Bill regards Iago coldly. His eyes narrow a bit.
BILL:[/b] I have nothing but faith in Bruce "the Beast" Richards.
IAGO:[/b] I'm sure you do, but this is no ordinary opponent is it? Caliban is a head above the usual competition he faces, and you're concerned that Bruce may not be able to match his ferocity.
BILL:[/b] They don't call my client "the Beast" for nothing, Mr. Iago.
IAGO:[/b] I'm sure they don't. But your expression betrays you. This is different, isn't it?
Bill angrily glares into his beer.
IAGO:[/b] Mr. Fleming, I am a man who creates monsters. That is what I do, and I do it well. Caliban is the jewel of my collection. He is, in no uncertain terms, a monster. He has no mercy, no remorse. He doesn't have compassion or empathy. In that ring, this Tuesday, Bruce will be just another kind of prey for Caliban to hunt. This isn't a matter of pride. This isn't a matter of dominance. This is the simple matter that Caliban can - and will - hurt your client, regardless of the outcome of the match.
Bill sips his beer.
BILL:[/b] I know that. And, I'll add, so does Bruce.
Iago's smile doesn't fade, but his eyes get colder.
IAGO:[/b] There is still time to talk him out of the match...
Bill Fleming finishes his beer, and rises in one motion. He slams the empty glass down on the table.
BILL:[/b] Mr. Iago. Thank you for the beer. But I'll reiterate. I have complete faith in the Beast. He knows what he walked into here, and I will support his decision.
Bill's cellphone abruptly rings. He starts fishing around for it.
IAGO:[/b] I'm pleased by your decision. I, too, have faith in the Beast. But not in Bruce Richards.
BILL:[/b] Well, thanks, I guess... where's my phone...
IAGO:[/b] I will not be held responsible for what is to come, then.
BILL:[/b] Great, but... hold on just a sec... ah!
Bill pulls his cell out of a pocket and flips it open.
BILL:[/b] Bill Fleming speaking.
Tiffany sits on the bed in the hotel room. She's holding some papers in one hand, and the phone in the other. She looks distraught.
TIFFANY:[/b] Bill, it's Tiffany. I need you up here right now, and call Bruce.
The camera pans around her as she talks, focusing in on the papers she's holding. The first is a picture of Miranda and Caliban... standing in her hotel room. Someone has written on the photo, "We know where to find you". The second photo is Stylin' Kyle Roberts' headshot. In the same handwriting, "And now so does he."
Bill looks concerned.
BILL:[/b] I'll be right up, Tiffany. Stay there.
Bill hangs up and turns to say something to Ringmaster Iago... but Iago is gone.
The well manicured hand finishes placing his queen. Click. The black gloved hand clenches into a fist and slams the table hard enough to shake the pieces.
Lights down.
- Tiffany McIntyre and Bill Fleming used with excessively generous permission.