Post by Bruce "The Beast" Richards on Apr 29, 2007 16:58:16 GMT -5
<Sunday Evening>
(The inside of a fairly small if luxurious apartment. A deep mahogany end table stands beside a red velvet couch; tall black lamps decorated with gold leaf stand in the corners of the room, casting a warm glow across the dark brown walls. A few black and white candles are displayed on the coffee table, flickering, casting deep shadows across the floor and ceiling. It's a nice scene, almost even a little romantic. Until the door opens, and a female figure steps into the room. The moment she starts to close the door, she tenses. She knows something isn't right. She stands in the doorframe, eyes darting around the room. Looking for something. Or someone.)
MIRANDA: Who's here? (Her voice fades away quickly in the room.) I'm not an idiot, you know. I know someone's here. (She seems unsure of herself, being drawn into the room but taking hesitant steps.) Stop playing games with me. I'm not one to be trifled with. I have...influence. I could make life very difficult for you if you don't show yourself. (She walks up to the candles and laughs nervously.) If you wanted to make this a surprise, you shouldn't have lit the candles. They're a dead giveaway.
(The door SLAMS closed, and Miranda jumps and catches a short cry even as it escapes from her lips. Without the light of the hallway, the room is in relative darkness again. Even so, we can make out a dark form that steps out of the corner by the door. He speaks in a low, rasping voice.)
VOICE: I wasn't going for surprise. The candles are...mood lighting. I was going for a sense of forboding, a sliver of terror.
(The figure takes a few more steps forward. He tilts his head and cracks the vertebrae in his neck. His head straightens, and now the light illuminates his face. The first thing we see is the grin, twisted and toothy like that of a malevolent Cheshire cat, but that's enough to know who it is.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: I was trying to scare you.
MIRANDA: (Trying to compose herself.) Well, on that account, you failed.
(Bruce surges forward, closing the distance between him and Miranda in two quick steps. She quickly moves back and bumps up against the coffee table; the shimmering light making distorted shadows on Bruce's face. The grin is gone from his face; now his eyes are wide and angry, and his nostrils are flaring.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: Did I really?
(Miranda holds up an arm to slap him, but he catches her wrist in his large hand and just holds it there.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: No need to get violent, Miranda. I came here to talk to you, not to hurt you. But if you give me a reason to, if you push me...I'll push you back.
(Miranda glares at him but slowly lowers her arm. Bruce lets her go, and they stand a foot apart, just staring at each other.)
MIRANDA: You have no right to be here. I could call the police.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Why don't you do that? I have a few things I'd like to show them, actually. (He pulls an envelope out of the breast pocket of his suit.) Oh, wait, that's right. We've both got something that we'd like to keep secret.
MIRANDA: I've never seen those pictures before.
BRUCE RICHARDS: That's interesting. How did you know they were pictures, exactly? Do you have x-ray vision or something? Besides, the gentleman who delivered them to Tiffany gave me a description of the woman who gave them to him. Surprised he talked? Dont feel too angry with him; he clammed right up at first. He took a little...convincing. He was a hard nut to crack, but eventually he saw it my way.
MIRANDA: So now you've come here to, what, beat some sense into me? Toss a few empty threats my way, then march out to face your inevitable destruction? Does it make you feel better to scare me when you have no hope of scaring Caliban?
BRUCE RICHARDS: I already said I didn't come here to hurt you. And I don't toss around empty threats. (He goes over to sit on the chair beside the window.) That's more your style.
MIRANDA: Get out of my chair you animal.
BRUCE RICHARDS: If we can't be civil, then I'll get straight to the point. (He crosses his legs and leans back in the chair.) If you come anywhere near Tiffany before Tuesday night, I swear that I will make you regret that decision. And if I see Kyle Roberts anywhere near our hotel room, he won't be the only one suffering when I'm done.
MIRANDA: It doesn't matter. In two days, Caliban will cripple you. He will humiliate you, and when he's done he will send you back to where you came from and you will fade away. It would be better for him to kill you in that ring than suffer the fate you will.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Caliban's tough, I'll admit. But I'm a tough sonofabitch myself. I've dealt with monsters before, and I've put them all away. Caliban's no different. He's a freak. He's cold and heartless. He's a monster. I've heard that all before, years before I even laid eyes on Caliban. He's tough, but he doesn't intimidate me. I'm ready for him. I might walk out of there hurt, but at least I'll walk out of there. That's more than I can say for your precious monster. I didn't come to Raleigh to sell tickets, or to prove what I can do, or for some kind of inter-company promotional business. I came here to do something that no-one else in the REBEL Pro locker room can do: put Caliban in his place. I'm strong, I'm determined, and I can take more punishment than anyone else in this business. Your deformed monster needs to be destroyed. I'm here to destroy him
MIRANDA: Caliban is more powerful than you can--
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Shouting.) Will you shut up about that freak for two seconds? I'm not afraid of him! (He gets up off the chair and right into Miranda's face.) You people think you can throw me off my game by threatening the people I love, by getting a little dirt from Kyle Roberts? You're SO far off! Other people have tried to make me lose my head, tried to get under my skin and hope I'll slip up, but every single one of them has lived to regret that decision. Caliban is no different. You're trying to scare my friends? You're trying to scare The Beast? I'm not afraid of you! The Beast is not afraid of Caliban!
MIRANDA: (Smiling.) And why is that, do you think? You've heard it all before, if I heard you right; people trying to scare others by tales of the freak. The cold, heartless monster. Who did you hear it from? And what makes you think they were talking to you, and not about you?
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Furious.) I'm not afraid of Caliban.
MIRANDA: I know. But you're afraid of something, aren't you Bruce? (Smiles as she lays her hand upon his chest.) The courage to face him is right in here. Don't be afraid to use it.
(Bruce pushes past her and walks to the door. As he's about to close it behind him, he stops and turns to face her again.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: This isn't over, Miranda.
MIRANDA: (Still smiling sweetly at him.) I certainly hope not.
(Bruce slams the door behind him as Miranda chuckles and drums her fingertips together. She lays on the couch and bathes in the candlelight as she starts casting monstrous shadows on the walls. Fade to black.)
(Miranda used with very gracious permission.)
(The inside of a fairly small if luxurious apartment. A deep mahogany end table stands beside a red velvet couch; tall black lamps decorated with gold leaf stand in the corners of the room, casting a warm glow across the dark brown walls. A few black and white candles are displayed on the coffee table, flickering, casting deep shadows across the floor and ceiling. It's a nice scene, almost even a little romantic. Until the door opens, and a female figure steps into the room. The moment she starts to close the door, she tenses. She knows something isn't right. She stands in the doorframe, eyes darting around the room. Looking for something. Or someone.)
MIRANDA: Who's here? (Her voice fades away quickly in the room.) I'm not an idiot, you know. I know someone's here. (She seems unsure of herself, being drawn into the room but taking hesitant steps.) Stop playing games with me. I'm not one to be trifled with. I have...influence. I could make life very difficult for you if you don't show yourself. (She walks up to the candles and laughs nervously.) If you wanted to make this a surprise, you shouldn't have lit the candles. They're a dead giveaway.
(The door SLAMS closed, and Miranda jumps and catches a short cry even as it escapes from her lips. Without the light of the hallway, the room is in relative darkness again. Even so, we can make out a dark form that steps out of the corner by the door. He speaks in a low, rasping voice.)
VOICE: I wasn't going for surprise. The candles are...mood lighting. I was going for a sense of forboding, a sliver of terror.
(The figure takes a few more steps forward. He tilts his head and cracks the vertebrae in his neck. His head straightens, and now the light illuminates his face. The first thing we see is the grin, twisted and toothy like that of a malevolent Cheshire cat, but that's enough to know who it is.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: I was trying to scare you.
MIRANDA: (Trying to compose herself.) Well, on that account, you failed.
(Bruce surges forward, closing the distance between him and Miranda in two quick steps. She quickly moves back and bumps up against the coffee table; the shimmering light making distorted shadows on Bruce's face. The grin is gone from his face; now his eyes are wide and angry, and his nostrils are flaring.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: Did I really?
(Miranda holds up an arm to slap him, but he catches her wrist in his large hand and just holds it there.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: No need to get violent, Miranda. I came here to talk to you, not to hurt you. But if you give me a reason to, if you push me...I'll push you back.
(Miranda glares at him but slowly lowers her arm. Bruce lets her go, and they stand a foot apart, just staring at each other.)
MIRANDA: You have no right to be here. I could call the police.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Why don't you do that? I have a few things I'd like to show them, actually. (He pulls an envelope out of the breast pocket of his suit.) Oh, wait, that's right. We've both got something that we'd like to keep secret.
MIRANDA: I've never seen those pictures before.
BRUCE RICHARDS: That's interesting. How did you know they were pictures, exactly? Do you have x-ray vision or something? Besides, the gentleman who delivered them to Tiffany gave me a description of the woman who gave them to him. Surprised he talked? Dont feel too angry with him; he clammed right up at first. He took a little...convincing. He was a hard nut to crack, but eventually he saw it my way.
MIRANDA: So now you've come here to, what, beat some sense into me? Toss a few empty threats my way, then march out to face your inevitable destruction? Does it make you feel better to scare me when you have no hope of scaring Caliban?
BRUCE RICHARDS: I already said I didn't come here to hurt you. And I don't toss around empty threats. (He goes over to sit on the chair beside the window.) That's more your style.
MIRANDA: Get out of my chair you animal.
BRUCE RICHARDS: If we can't be civil, then I'll get straight to the point. (He crosses his legs and leans back in the chair.) If you come anywhere near Tiffany before Tuesday night, I swear that I will make you regret that decision. And if I see Kyle Roberts anywhere near our hotel room, he won't be the only one suffering when I'm done.
MIRANDA: It doesn't matter. In two days, Caliban will cripple you. He will humiliate you, and when he's done he will send you back to where you came from and you will fade away. It would be better for him to kill you in that ring than suffer the fate you will.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Caliban's tough, I'll admit. But I'm a tough sonofabitch myself. I've dealt with monsters before, and I've put them all away. Caliban's no different. He's a freak. He's cold and heartless. He's a monster. I've heard that all before, years before I even laid eyes on Caliban. He's tough, but he doesn't intimidate me. I'm ready for him. I might walk out of there hurt, but at least I'll walk out of there. That's more than I can say for your precious monster. I didn't come to Raleigh to sell tickets, or to prove what I can do, or for some kind of inter-company promotional business. I came here to do something that no-one else in the REBEL Pro locker room can do: put Caliban in his place. I'm strong, I'm determined, and I can take more punishment than anyone else in this business. Your deformed monster needs to be destroyed. I'm here to destroy him
MIRANDA: Caliban is more powerful than you can--
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Shouting.) Will you shut up about that freak for two seconds? I'm not afraid of him! (He gets up off the chair and right into Miranda's face.) You people think you can throw me off my game by threatening the people I love, by getting a little dirt from Kyle Roberts? You're SO far off! Other people have tried to make me lose my head, tried to get under my skin and hope I'll slip up, but every single one of them has lived to regret that decision. Caliban is no different. You're trying to scare my friends? You're trying to scare The Beast? I'm not afraid of you! The Beast is not afraid of Caliban!
MIRANDA: (Smiling.) And why is that, do you think? You've heard it all before, if I heard you right; people trying to scare others by tales of the freak. The cold, heartless monster. Who did you hear it from? And what makes you think they were talking to you, and not about you?
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Furious.) I'm not afraid of Caliban.
MIRANDA: I know. But you're afraid of something, aren't you Bruce? (Smiles as she lays her hand upon his chest.) The courage to face him is right in here. Don't be afraid to use it.
(Bruce pushes past her and walks to the door. As he's about to close it behind him, he stops and turns to face her again.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: This isn't over, Miranda.
MIRANDA: (Still smiling sweetly at him.) I certainly hope not.
(Bruce slams the door behind him as Miranda chuckles and drums her fingertips together. She lays on the couch and bathes in the candlelight as she starts casting monstrous shadows on the walls. Fade to black.)
(Miranda used with very gracious permission.)