Post by Cormack MacNeill on Feb 23, 2014 17:01:51 GMT -5
Tuesday, February 18, 2014 0630 hrs
Church's Compound, Toronto, Ontario.
Scene unfolds in a now familiar corridor. And the equally familiar but much more anticipated figure of Isla Stennet-Smith slinks along said corridor. This morning she slinks along is a tight blue number, short in the skirt and long in the sleeves. Today she carries no hose, but instead carries a briefcase in her slender hand.
The camera pans to show a door, already open. The broad back of Cormack MacNeill can be seen as he stoops over the bed, busy with something out of view. Isla slinks to a stop at the doorway, leaning provocatively with one hip jutted out, almost an invitation to touch. But MacNeill is focused entirely on the bed, and on what we can now see is a battered gym-bag.
'Did you bring what I asked for Isla?'
She smiles a sad smile, and shifts her weight, seemingly uncomfortable with the conversation.
'Yes Mr. MacNeill, I did. May I ask you why you need this? After all, you're just going to Dallas for the match, correct?'
Cormack stood and turned to face her, his large form looming over the shorter woman. He smile back at her, an equally sad smile on his face.
'I'm going home Isla. I need to prepare for my match at TimeBomb.'
She turned her face up to his and stepped in closer, her eyes searching his for some hint that he was fooling around. Finding no sign, her heart sank.
'But Mr. Church has a plan prepared, a training regimen that will get you in the right frame of mind. An in-ring plan that will show you the counters to all of Mr. Onyx's moves.'
Cormack looked down at her with a wry grin. He turned back to his bed and scooped up the stuffed gymbag laying there. As he turned back, bag in hand, he placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in her lovely pale face.
'This won't be the kind of match that James can prepare me for. It won't be a hold-counter-hold style of contest. This is going to be a battle, a war from the moment we are both in the ring. Maybe even before that. So I need to go somewhere where I can prepare for a fight, not a match.'
Her eyes welled with tears, something MacNeill certainly wasn't expecting. With a trembling voice, she asked,
'Will you be back?'
Cormack's face softened, and he smiled his best smile at her. he put down his bag and placed both hands on her shoulders.
'I don't know Isla. I don't know what the future holds for me. I only know I need to go home.'
He picked up his bag and headed towards the door. She watched him walk away, her heart heavy with regret and loss. Until this moment, she didn't know the depth of feeling that she felt for him, a most unlikely romantic interest. As he placed his hand on the doorknob leading outside, mere moments from walking out of her life for who knows how long, she spoke his name.
'Cormack.'
His hand froze on the doorknob, his mind racing. She never called him by his first name. He watched her slink towards him with wary interest. Had he done something wrong? Was she angry? He always acted courteous and respectful toward her. What was she angry abo.....
All thoughts ceased as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her level, laying a soft, warm, wet kiss on his lips. She released his shirt, and he stood, confused.
'Go. Do what you need to do. Just know that I'll be here when you are done.'
She turned on a heel and strutted away, her hips working the voodoo that she do so well. Cormack stood, staring after her, hand still frozen on the door knob
Scene fades out.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014 1800 hrs
Stanfield International Airport, Halifax, Nova Scotia
Scene opens on the arrivals gate, a line of taxis stretching as far as the eye can see. The automatic door opens, and out strides Cormack MacNeill, dressed in his signature kilt and t-shirt, covered over with a black leather jacket. The sun shone down on his head, reflecting the brightness back into the sky. He moved to the front of the line of cabs, his mind still turning over the revelation of the morning. Isla kissed me?, he thought. How did I not pick up on that? Oh, right, I'm a guy.
With a shrug to himself, he climbed into the back of the first cab in line. The man behind the wheel looked up into the mirror.
'Where to my friend?'
'Citadel Hill'
'Are you sure? That's not a very safe area after dark. Especially on the North side.'
'I'm sure. Drive.'
Scene fades
Tuesday, February 18, 2014 1830 hrs
Citadel Hill, Halifax
Cormack MacNeill walked slowly along Garriston Street, taking in all the sights and sound of home. He was in the North End now, his old stomping grounds. People were milling about, some shopping, some heading home from work, most just milling. Wasting time. Cormack could remember the days he did that, just walked the streets, stopping at this shop or that coffe house, taking a few wrm minutes before he was shooed out again.
He turned down a side street, and walked along rows of tenement buildings, their exteriors worn and faded, cracked and patched roofs were evident on both sides of the street. Cormack stopped at one in particular, and stood gazing, a lone figure standing aloof. People walked around him as he stood there staring, some muttering under their breath. Yet he still stood alone, isolated on a street full of people. With a sigh, he started up the walkway to the building slowly.
With a start, he stepped quickly to the side as a small child ran past him into the building, laughing as he went rushing by. Cormack turned toward the street, eyes scanning for what he knew was coming next. A small Asian man was running up the walkway shaking his fist and screaming.
'Thief! Thief!'
Cormack stepped out and held his hand up. The man tried to maneuver around his large form, but was quickly stopped by MacNeill.
He stood back, face burning in rage.
'You move!'
'No'
'Why not! Kid stole from me! You move, I catch him!'
'No'
The smaller man stared hard at the kilted figure in front of him. With a smile he threw his arms around him.
'Mack! Where you come from? Thought you gone?'
Cormack smiled back and picked the little man up in a bear-hug before setting him down. He pushed him out to arms length and inspected him.
'Tosh! How are you doing old man? And what's with the horrible accent?'
The smaller man laughed out loud and slapped Cormack on the chest.
'Sorry Mack, it makes it easier when the food inspectors or tax folks show up. Play the 'ignorant Chinese' bit. They eventually just give up and leave. It's a classic. So, what are you doing back in town. I heard you left for the big city, big career.'
Cormack nodded his head, and slapped the little man back, nearly knocking him over.
'I did, just back in town for some training. So what were you chasing that kid for? What did he steal?'
'Dine and dash. Fifth one this month.'
'All kids?'
'Yes. All from over here too. North Side trash.'
Cormack stared hard at him, and leaned over the smaller man.
'Rephrase that Tosh. I'm North Side trash and proud of it!'
Tosh cleared his throat and looked at the ground, scuffing his foot on the walkway.
'Sorry Mack, I forgot. But these kids are killing me. I can barely keep my head above water as it is.'
MacNeill jerked his thumb towards the doorway.
'How much did that kid owe you?'
Tosh began to answer, but was interrupted by a shouting from behind them. Both men turned to see the kid reappear, being dragged by his ear. The dragger stopped, looked at both men, and pulled the kid up to a halt. With a shake of her head, she motioned towards Cormack.
'Keep stealing and you'll end up like him. Too good for the old crowd. Isn't that right Mack.'
Cormack stared hard at her, as if trying to place her. After a moment, he broke into a toothy grin.
'Gina. How have you been lassie?'
She glared back at him, fuming.
'Fantastic! just fantastic! I'm living in the Taj Mahal, and his father is at the bar. Again. And now, I have to give that man money so he doesn't call the cops on Jimmy. Again.'
Cormack smiled back and shook his head.
'How much does he owe you Tosh?'
'$11.58.'
'Still overcharging I see?'
Tosh glared at him, but couldn't keep the face and broke into laughter.
'Only for the tourists and south siders. The kid owes me six bucks.'
Cormack dug into his pack, and came out with a wallet. Opening it, he drew out a $100 bill and handed it over to Tosh.
'That oughta cover what the kid stole, plus a meal for my old friend Gina.'
Gina smiled sweetly at Cormack, and walked towards him. As she reached his side, she reached up and grabbed his earlobe as well, twisting it until he dropped to a knee.
'Watch who you're calling old!'
She released his ear, and Cormack stepped back as he stood.
'Sorry, my young and lovely friend Gina.'
Tosh watched all of this with a smile on his face. With a sweeping arm motion, he pointed back down the street where he had come from.
'Let's all go for a meal. And yes Mack, I have beer.'
Cormack laughed and wrapped an arm around Gina, and the other around her kid.
'Let's go eat.'
Scene fades out
Wednesday, February 19, 2014 0900 hrs.
North Street, Halifax
A doorway fades into view, and with it the sound of someone knocking very insistently. The force of the knocks shake the very trim of the door. From somewhere off camera, we can hear a muttered response.
'Yeah yeah I'm comin'. Keep your pants on.'
The speaker stumbles into view, and peers through the eye-hole. He steps back, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and looks again. He hurriedly unlocks the door, swinging it wide.
'Mack! What in the hell are you doing here! You should be training for your big match!'
Cormack steps into view, smiling. He reaches out and hugs the older man, squeezing him tightly, before releasing him.
'Jimmy! It's good to see you! How did you know I've got a match?'
Jimmy points behind him. The gym has been converted into a shrine of sorts. Clippings, pictures of Cormack accompany a flat screen TV.
'I thought you swore you'd never have a TV Jimmy. Said it killed brain cells, made people stupid and lazy.'
Jimmy just smiled in response.
'I had to get one Mack. How else could we follow your career?'
Cormack looked at him with a quizzical stare.
'We?'
Jimmy motioned for MacNeill to follow him as he walked along the former gym area and to a smaller door. He put his finger to his lips and shh'ed the big man as he slowly eased the door open, revealing a half dozen beds. In each, sleeping, was a child. All seemed to be in their early teens, all sound asleep. Jimmy closed the door quietly and walked back to the hallway. he pointed out a couple of chairs and took one as Cormack settled his bulk into the other.
'I thought you told me you were getting too old to take on new students.'
'They aren't exactly students. They are all kids like you. Poor, uneducated, starving for attention. Looking for a purpose.'
Cormack looked toward the room and looked back at Jimmy, a smile on his face.
'Good for you Jimmy. maybe in that room is another Cormack, just waiting for your wisdom.'
'I hope not.'
The two men began laughing, and as the scene fades, their laughter can be heard.
Fade out
Thursday, February 20, 2014 1750 hrs
Jimmy's Gym, Halifax
Scene opens on Cormack MacNeill. he stands in front of a half dozen young adults, and his hands wave about as he finished his story.
'...and that's how the Nova Scotia Highlanders added to the legend of Highland Regiments, and became known as 'The Ladies from Hell'. '
Half-hearted applause followed, mostly due to the fact that the history lesson was over. Cormack walked around the kids, and headed for the door.
'Hey Mack!'
Cormack turned to the sound of the voice, noticing one of the kids had his hand raised. At least Jimmy taught them some manners.
'Yes?'
'Are you going to beat Lupus Onyx on Sunday?'
'I'm going to win, yes.'
'How?'
'That's something that Jimmy can explain to you.'
With that, and a hard look at Jimmy, he turned and walked out the door.
Jimmy muttered under his breath,
'He's fucked.'
Fade out
Sunday, February 23, 2014, 0930 hrs
La Quinta Suites, Dallas, Texas
Scene opens on a small, but comfortable hotel room. The bed is unmade, the floor littered with empty beer cans. Sitting on the couch is Cormack MacNeill, and he's clearly engrossed in something on the television screen.
Outside the room, in the hallway, Jordan Caliban and Jordan Ciserano are walking towards Cormack's room. Clearly they have a morning meeting in mind. Ciserano carries a box of assorted pastries...i.e. whatever was complimentary downstairs. Caliban carries coffees for the three of them, also from downstairs. As they approach the door to his room, they can make out his voice, getting louder and louder as he speaks.
'That's it. Take it, take it hard! Show him who's boss. Shove it in! Ram it right in there!. Fuck!!!!'
The two Jordan's, upon hearing that, slowly turn around and begin heading back to the elevator as quickly as they can. Suddenly Cormack's door opens, and the two men avert their eyes, not knowing what they are about to see, only knowing that some things cannot be unseen.
'Thought I heard something out here. Come one in guys!'
They shake their heads and mumble an excuse, still backpedaling slowly for the elevator.
'What? Oh, that! I'm watching the Canada-Sweden hockey game, it's almost over. Come on in.'
The two men look at each other in an obvious sign of relief, and head towards the door.
As the two men enter, Cormack turns to the camera.
'Strategy session, no peeking!.'
The door slams, and the camera fades out.
Scene opens to a darkened room. A scarcely seen shadow moves at the edge of the screen, a flit of movement in an otherwise silent tableau of Stygian blackness. A sound reaches out of the darkness, a steady tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock not unlike a metronome, or a clock.
'Lupus Onyx, do you hear that? That ticking sound, that steady, monotonous, driven beat.
'
'That's the countdown to the end of your career. The soundtrack to your slaughter. The ticking timebomb that will spell your end.
'
A dimly lit shadow moves into view, a veritable spotlight in the sea of deepest night. Three sticks of dynamite are strapped together with black tape, multi-colored wires criss-crossing the bundle. A digital timer flashes on on top of the tnt.
1:00
0:59
'You made a grave mistake Onyx. You turned your back on Sequitas. You have forsaken those who called you friend. We showed you our vision of the future. Our vision of a better WCF, a fairer WCF. And you walked away from it. You insulted all that we stand for.'
0:40
0:39
'We won't stand for that. I won't stand for that. A penance must be paid. The wrongs must be righted. We stand on the edge of greatness. Of rightfulness. Of a revolution. We won't let you stand in our way.'
0:20
0:19
'We gave you the chance to step aside. To stand down. You refused. Now you must pay.'
0:15
0:14
'You must be put down. Like the beast you claim to be. You will bleed for your sins. We will make sure of it. I will make sure of it.'
0:10
0:09
The fierce visage of James Church hovers into view, lit by the same dim light. His mouth is drawn tight in a sneer of disgust.
'Don't fear me Lupus.'
0:08
0:07
The face of Jordan Caliban looms into view. his face is set in a similar sneer.
'Or me.'
0:06
0:05
Jordan Ciserano leans in, his face a mask of rage.
'Or me.'
0:04
0:03
Three faces merge in the center of the screen, their sneers hovering inches above the clock, which is now madly blinking.
'Don't fear us Lupus Onyx.'
0:02
'Fear him.'
0:01
A fourth face looms in, blocking the other three. His mouth set in a hard grin, his face streaked in the traditional blue clay of his ancestors, his head smooth and painted, Cormack leans in and smiles.
0:00
BEEEEPPPP!
'Time's up.'
The screen explodes in a flash of white light, obscuring all details from view. As the light subsides, so does the image, slowly fading to black.
Church's Compound, Toronto, Ontario.
Scene unfolds in a now familiar corridor. And the equally familiar but much more anticipated figure of Isla Stennet-Smith slinks along said corridor. This morning she slinks along is a tight blue number, short in the skirt and long in the sleeves. Today she carries no hose, but instead carries a briefcase in her slender hand.
The camera pans to show a door, already open. The broad back of Cormack MacNeill can be seen as he stoops over the bed, busy with something out of view. Isla slinks to a stop at the doorway, leaning provocatively with one hip jutted out, almost an invitation to touch. But MacNeill is focused entirely on the bed, and on what we can now see is a battered gym-bag.
'Did you bring what I asked for Isla?'
She smiles a sad smile, and shifts her weight, seemingly uncomfortable with the conversation.
'Yes Mr. MacNeill, I did. May I ask you why you need this? After all, you're just going to Dallas for the match, correct?'
Cormack stood and turned to face her, his large form looming over the shorter woman. He smile back at her, an equally sad smile on his face.
'I'm going home Isla. I need to prepare for my match at TimeBomb.'
She turned her face up to his and stepped in closer, her eyes searching his for some hint that he was fooling around. Finding no sign, her heart sank.
'But Mr. Church has a plan prepared, a training regimen that will get you in the right frame of mind. An in-ring plan that will show you the counters to all of Mr. Onyx's moves.'
Cormack looked down at her with a wry grin. He turned back to his bed and scooped up the stuffed gymbag laying there. As he turned back, bag in hand, he placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in her lovely pale face.
'This won't be the kind of match that James can prepare me for. It won't be a hold-counter-hold style of contest. This is going to be a battle, a war from the moment we are both in the ring. Maybe even before that. So I need to go somewhere where I can prepare for a fight, not a match.'
Her eyes welled with tears, something MacNeill certainly wasn't expecting. With a trembling voice, she asked,
'Will you be back?'
Cormack's face softened, and he smiled his best smile at her. he put down his bag and placed both hands on her shoulders.
'I don't know Isla. I don't know what the future holds for me. I only know I need to go home.'
He picked up his bag and headed towards the door. She watched him walk away, her heart heavy with regret and loss. Until this moment, she didn't know the depth of feeling that she felt for him, a most unlikely romantic interest. As he placed his hand on the doorknob leading outside, mere moments from walking out of her life for who knows how long, she spoke his name.
'Cormack.'
His hand froze on the doorknob, his mind racing. She never called him by his first name. He watched her slink towards him with wary interest. Had he done something wrong? Was she angry? He always acted courteous and respectful toward her. What was she angry abo.....
All thoughts ceased as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her level, laying a soft, warm, wet kiss on his lips. She released his shirt, and he stood, confused.
'Go. Do what you need to do. Just know that I'll be here when you are done.'
She turned on a heel and strutted away, her hips working the voodoo that she do so well. Cormack stood, staring after her, hand still frozen on the door knob
Scene fades out.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014 1800 hrs
Stanfield International Airport, Halifax, Nova Scotia
Scene opens on the arrivals gate, a line of taxis stretching as far as the eye can see. The automatic door opens, and out strides Cormack MacNeill, dressed in his signature kilt and t-shirt, covered over with a black leather jacket. The sun shone down on his head, reflecting the brightness back into the sky. He moved to the front of the line of cabs, his mind still turning over the revelation of the morning. Isla kissed me?, he thought. How did I not pick up on that? Oh, right, I'm a guy.
With a shrug to himself, he climbed into the back of the first cab in line. The man behind the wheel looked up into the mirror.
'Where to my friend?'
'Citadel Hill'
'Are you sure? That's not a very safe area after dark. Especially on the North side.'
'I'm sure. Drive.'
Scene fades
Tuesday, February 18, 2014 1830 hrs
Citadel Hill, Halifax
Cormack MacNeill walked slowly along Garriston Street, taking in all the sights and sound of home. He was in the North End now, his old stomping grounds. People were milling about, some shopping, some heading home from work, most just milling. Wasting time. Cormack could remember the days he did that, just walked the streets, stopping at this shop or that coffe house, taking a few wrm minutes before he was shooed out again.
He turned down a side street, and walked along rows of tenement buildings, their exteriors worn and faded, cracked and patched roofs were evident on both sides of the street. Cormack stopped at one in particular, and stood gazing, a lone figure standing aloof. People walked around him as he stood there staring, some muttering under their breath. Yet he still stood alone, isolated on a street full of people. With a sigh, he started up the walkway to the building slowly.
With a start, he stepped quickly to the side as a small child ran past him into the building, laughing as he went rushing by. Cormack turned toward the street, eyes scanning for what he knew was coming next. A small Asian man was running up the walkway shaking his fist and screaming.
'Thief! Thief!'
Cormack stepped out and held his hand up. The man tried to maneuver around his large form, but was quickly stopped by MacNeill.
He stood back, face burning in rage.
'You move!'
'No'
'Why not! Kid stole from me! You move, I catch him!'
'No'
The smaller man stared hard at the kilted figure in front of him. With a smile he threw his arms around him.
'Mack! Where you come from? Thought you gone?'
Cormack smiled back and picked the little man up in a bear-hug before setting him down. He pushed him out to arms length and inspected him.
'Tosh! How are you doing old man? And what's with the horrible accent?'
The smaller man laughed out loud and slapped Cormack on the chest.
'Sorry Mack, it makes it easier when the food inspectors or tax folks show up. Play the 'ignorant Chinese' bit. They eventually just give up and leave. It's a classic. So, what are you doing back in town. I heard you left for the big city, big career.'
Cormack nodded his head, and slapped the little man back, nearly knocking him over.
'I did, just back in town for some training. So what were you chasing that kid for? What did he steal?'
'Dine and dash. Fifth one this month.'
'All kids?'
'Yes. All from over here too. North Side trash.'
Cormack stared hard at him, and leaned over the smaller man.
'Rephrase that Tosh. I'm North Side trash and proud of it!'
Tosh cleared his throat and looked at the ground, scuffing his foot on the walkway.
'Sorry Mack, I forgot. But these kids are killing me. I can barely keep my head above water as it is.'
MacNeill jerked his thumb towards the doorway.
'How much did that kid owe you?'
Tosh began to answer, but was interrupted by a shouting from behind them. Both men turned to see the kid reappear, being dragged by his ear. The dragger stopped, looked at both men, and pulled the kid up to a halt. With a shake of her head, she motioned towards Cormack.
'Keep stealing and you'll end up like him. Too good for the old crowd. Isn't that right Mack.'
Cormack stared hard at her, as if trying to place her. After a moment, he broke into a toothy grin.
'Gina. How have you been lassie?'
She glared back at him, fuming.
'Fantastic! just fantastic! I'm living in the Taj Mahal, and his father is at the bar. Again. And now, I have to give that man money so he doesn't call the cops on Jimmy. Again.'
Cormack smiled back and shook his head.
'How much does he owe you Tosh?'
'$11.58.'
'Still overcharging I see?'
Tosh glared at him, but couldn't keep the face and broke into laughter.
'Only for the tourists and south siders. The kid owes me six bucks.'
Cormack dug into his pack, and came out with a wallet. Opening it, he drew out a $100 bill and handed it over to Tosh.
'That oughta cover what the kid stole, plus a meal for my old friend Gina.'
Gina smiled sweetly at Cormack, and walked towards him. As she reached his side, she reached up and grabbed his earlobe as well, twisting it until he dropped to a knee.
'Watch who you're calling old!'
She released his ear, and Cormack stepped back as he stood.
'Sorry, my young and lovely friend Gina.'
Tosh watched all of this with a smile on his face. With a sweeping arm motion, he pointed back down the street where he had come from.
'Let's all go for a meal. And yes Mack, I have beer.'
Cormack laughed and wrapped an arm around Gina, and the other around her kid.
'Let's go eat.'
Scene fades out
Wednesday, February 19, 2014 0900 hrs.
North Street, Halifax
A doorway fades into view, and with it the sound of someone knocking very insistently. The force of the knocks shake the very trim of the door. From somewhere off camera, we can hear a muttered response.
'Yeah yeah I'm comin'. Keep your pants on.'
The speaker stumbles into view, and peers through the eye-hole. He steps back, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and looks again. He hurriedly unlocks the door, swinging it wide.
'Mack! What in the hell are you doing here! You should be training for your big match!'
Cormack steps into view, smiling. He reaches out and hugs the older man, squeezing him tightly, before releasing him.
'Jimmy! It's good to see you! How did you know I've got a match?'
Jimmy points behind him. The gym has been converted into a shrine of sorts. Clippings, pictures of Cormack accompany a flat screen TV.
'I thought you swore you'd never have a TV Jimmy. Said it killed brain cells, made people stupid and lazy.'
Jimmy just smiled in response.
'I had to get one Mack. How else could we follow your career?'
Cormack looked at him with a quizzical stare.
'We?'
Jimmy motioned for MacNeill to follow him as he walked along the former gym area and to a smaller door. He put his finger to his lips and shh'ed the big man as he slowly eased the door open, revealing a half dozen beds. In each, sleeping, was a child. All seemed to be in their early teens, all sound asleep. Jimmy closed the door quietly and walked back to the hallway. he pointed out a couple of chairs and took one as Cormack settled his bulk into the other.
'I thought you told me you were getting too old to take on new students.'
'They aren't exactly students. They are all kids like you. Poor, uneducated, starving for attention. Looking for a purpose.'
Cormack looked toward the room and looked back at Jimmy, a smile on his face.
'Good for you Jimmy. maybe in that room is another Cormack, just waiting for your wisdom.'
'I hope not.'
The two men began laughing, and as the scene fades, their laughter can be heard.
Fade out
Thursday, February 20, 2014 1750 hrs
Jimmy's Gym, Halifax
Scene opens on Cormack MacNeill. he stands in front of a half dozen young adults, and his hands wave about as he finished his story.
'...and that's how the Nova Scotia Highlanders added to the legend of Highland Regiments, and became known as 'The Ladies from Hell'. '
Half-hearted applause followed, mostly due to the fact that the history lesson was over. Cormack walked around the kids, and headed for the door.
'Hey Mack!'
Cormack turned to the sound of the voice, noticing one of the kids had his hand raised. At least Jimmy taught them some manners.
'Yes?'
'Are you going to beat Lupus Onyx on Sunday?'
'I'm going to win, yes.'
'How?'
'That's something that Jimmy can explain to you.'
With that, and a hard look at Jimmy, he turned and walked out the door.
Jimmy muttered under his breath,
'He's fucked.'
Fade out
Sunday, February 23, 2014, 0930 hrs
La Quinta Suites, Dallas, Texas
Scene opens on a small, but comfortable hotel room. The bed is unmade, the floor littered with empty beer cans. Sitting on the couch is Cormack MacNeill, and he's clearly engrossed in something on the television screen.
Outside the room, in the hallway, Jordan Caliban and Jordan Ciserano are walking towards Cormack's room. Clearly they have a morning meeting in mind. Ciserano carries a box of assorted pastries...i.e. whatever was complimentary downstairs. Caliban carries coffees for the three of them, also from downstairs. As they approach the door to his room, they can make out his voice, getting louder and louder as he speaks.
'That's it. Take it, take it hard! Show him who's boss. Shove it in! Ram it right in there!. Fuck!!!!'
The two Jordan's, upon hearing that, slowly turn around and begin heading back to the elevator as quickly as they can. Suddenly Cormack's door opens, and the two men avert their eyes, not knowing what they are about to see, only knowing that some things cannot be unseen.
'Thought I heard something out here. Come one in guys!'
They shake their heads and mumble an excuse, still backpedaling slowly for the elevator.
'What? Oh, that! I'm watching the Canada-Sweden hockey game, it's almost over. Come on in.'
The two men look at each other in an obvious sign of relief, and head towards the door.
As the two men enter, Cormack turns to the camera.
'Strategy session, no peeking!.'
The door slams, and the camera fades out.
Scene opens to a darkened room. A scarcely seen shadow moves at the edge of the screen, a flit of movement in an otherwise silent tableau of Stygian blackness. A sound reaches out of the darkness, a steady tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock not unlike a metronome, or a clock.
'Lupus Onyx, do you hear that? That ticking sound, that steady, monotonous, driven beat.
'
'That's the countdown to the end of your career. The soundtrack to your slaughter. The ticking timebomb that will spell your end.
'
A dimly lit shadow moves into view, a veritable spotlight in the sea of deepest night. Three sticks of dynamite are strapped together with black tape, multi-colored wires criss-crossing the bundle. A digital timer flashes on on top of the tnt.
1:00
0:59
'You made a grave mistake Onyx. You turned your back on Sequitas. You have forsaken those who called you friend. We showed you our vision of the future. Our vision of a better WCF, a fairer WCF. And you walked away from it. You insulted all that we stand for.'
0:40
0:39
'We won't stand for that. I won't stand for that. A penance must be paid. The wrongs must be righted. We stand on the edge of greatness. Of rightfulness. Of a revolution. We won't let you stand in our way.'
0:20
0:19
'We gave you the chance to step aside. To stand down. You refused. Now you must pay.'
0:15
0:14
'You must be put down. Like the beast you claim to be. You will bleed for your sins. We will make sure of it. I will make sure of it.'
0:10
0:09
The fierce visage of James Church hovers into view, lit by the same dim light. His mouth is drawn tight in a sneer of disgust.
'Don't fear me Lupus.'
0:08
0:07
The face of Jordan Caliban looms into view. his face is set in a similar sneer.
'Or me.'
0:06
0:05
Jordan Ciserano leans in, his face a mask of rage.
'Or me.'
0:04
0:03
Three faces merge in the center of the screen, their sneers hovering inches above the clock, which is now madly blinking.
'Don't fear us Lupus Onyx.'
0:02
'Fear him.'
0:01
A fourth face looms in, blocking the other three. His mouth set in a hard grin, his face streaked in the traditional blue clay of his ancestors, his head smooth and painted, Cormack leans in and smiles.
0:00
BEEEEPPPP!
'Time's up.'
The screen explodes in a flash of white light, obscuring all details from view. As the light subsides, so does the image, slowly fading to black.
