Post by wblstudios on May 22, 2006 12:40:59 GMT -5
(Director's note: this scene takes the place the night after Slam, and a week before the events in Hearshot Kid Disaster)
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(A tall glass of orange juice accompanied by shades of burnt toast made its way up the stairs of Jack's opulent housing. Being commanded by his hispanic housekeeper to 'keep his powder dry' was something that Jack was having difficulty with. Jack of Blades, sitting there with his face enveloped in wraps of bandage, had not hired her. The company had taken the liberty of doing it for him. Despite his protest, here she was forcing him to eat buttered toast and get some vitamin C. It had been a disparaging week for Blades. At its opening, he had a white-collar infidel invade his house. Soon after, he had been commanded not to persist with his match against Kikyo under the threat of litigation. And even though, his match at Slam had ended with him perpetually smelling burnt flesh, the real kicker had been the fact that his attempts to kill his housekeeper had failed. Greasing the stairs only caused her to request that the Television champion massage her portly legs. Replacing the lighter fluid with gasoline had only resulted in a barbecue. And now she was forcefeeding him a hearty breakfast. As she laid the cutlery out, she asked him what he was doing. Blades removed himself from his telescope to ask if she had ever 'seen Rear Window?' The answer was negatory and Blades begun to choke down his meal until interrupted by a vibrating receiver and a tone perforating the humming of a Spanish wifetale by his employee.)
Jack of Blades: - Hello Dominoes, thirty minutes or your cheese-and-bread combo is cold.
(the camera cuts briefly to what seems like the interior of a crane game, and the two figures leaning against the glass. Kikyo's wide-eyes smile is concentrating on the crane as her tiny hands work the controls, a look of slight frustration whenever the shimmering claw comes up empty, but still plugging away quarter after quarter. The other figure is facing away, but from the new leather jacket... the Hitman insignia replaced with the symbol of a scythe and the letter "E" mocking the Russian flag... it's just a preliminary design, they can change it, she remembered being told when she saw it... but from the visible scarred skin and shimmering grey hair, it's obvious who it is.
Ellis: (singing) What is this that you keep selling me, boy?... I'm not gonna hold your hand here when you walk… You'll burn in hell while they're digging you out... (speaking) do the burns of Loncindia's incineration across your gaze keep that steadfast hold to the bandages marring that hideous face, my dearest Jack?
(Kikyo's expression falls a bit realizing who Ellis was calling, but she kept her gaze intent on the crane.)
Jack of Blades: Ich spreche nein Englisch.
Ellis: Good. Play dumb, Jack. It seems to be the trade that suits your altered gaze. Much as a wretched mongrel keeps going to the table for scraps after the newspaper crosses it's face, I tried to rectify the one thing I told you was off-limits. I spoke it myself with the taste of my blood. Second Stage chimed in with the unkindliest cut. Has Longcindia's incineration changed your behavior, or must things escalate further?
(At this, the fumbling of hands can be heard on Jack's end of the reciever. It stops only for the silence to be dispelled by the epic screech of a recorder falling from note to note and piercing his interlocuter's receiver. After it falls in pitch, it is soon joined by the trademark manic laugh. Ellis is forced to remove the phone from her ear for just a second as the notes barely permeate the loud sounds of wherever this crane game is located. A black kitty cat makes it halfway across the screen, before fumbling out of the claw's grip, much to Kikyo's dismay.)
Ellis: Well, it'd appear that my singing voice beats yours hands-down, Jack. And as of last night's events, my face seems in far better shape than yours as well.
(Kikyo sighs at the conversation going on beside her... this mean streak in Ellis' tone ever since her pinfall victory over Jack was a little disturbing, but it was better than depression)
Jack of Blades: Trust me, doll. My skin may flake and my scabs may water but I still look better than some self-harming anorexic who breaths fire. So it that why you've rang me? To taunt me while I'm down...?
(He begins to sob but it's obviously quite fake until he breaks into laughter.)
Ellis: Seemed like the kind of thing you'd do.
Jack of Blades: Ha. I'm so proud. You're picking up a few of my traits, I see. And you've even developed a sense of humour. But unfortunately and this does answer your previous question, no I'm not done with you yet.
Ellis: Well then... it would seem you're more of an idiot than I thought. What kind of things would it take for me to convince you that toying with the dead is a bad idea? There are forces at hand that you, of all people, couldn't understand... and in the killing end, dearest Jack, when that last gasp comes from your wretched frame and you end up becoming part of the world I guard over... just remember. It was you who slit the first incision into this final cut.
Jack of Blades: Ah, you can talk about the killing end all you want and how I've irrevocably involved myself in things that I shouldn't have but what you should really concern yourself with is the killing joke. You see, despite my burnt facial features, you're just dancing for the puppet master...
(Jack's tirade is broken up by the questioning of whether he would like eggs in a latino voice. The response? "No, I don't want any bloody eggs." A gesture of physical violence is heard and combined with an angered latino voice remonstrating him for talking in such a manner to his elders.)
Ellis:... and in spite of the repeated warnings and the chiming in of Longcindia and my dearest Second Stage, you seem not to get the point. I've marred you. I've scarred you. If you want to go insofar as to talk about this business I don't think either of us really cares about, I've pinned you. I've proved you no better to the realm of the dead, Jack. I see no more threat from you. The only problems marring my gaze now is this... how did Kikyo put it?... "good old boy network" we both seem to be having problems with. You with the Dreadknocks, and me with Nytro and Torture... and assuredly Creeping Death, as those three are aligned. Once I get through Timebomb, and carve my blade through Hughes and the figures not worthy to make the killing end... maybe I'll play with you a bit more.
(Finally, after a good 5 bucks, the little black kitty makes it's way to the end of the crane and drops in the prize slot, which Kikyo retrieves and shows to Ellis with glee, before realizing that Ellis is trapped in her own little world again.)
Jack of Blades:...Oh Ellis, my dear. You should have realised that I've found a new puppet now.
(At this, his end of the conversation is finalised with the dull tone of a receiver being hooked. A frustrated sigh comes from the living dead girl as she finally takes notice of the toy cat Kikyo had won. Ellis nods, then looks slightly confused as Kikyo asks for the phone. She hands it to the Japanese prodigy as the camera cuts back to Jack, and the phone rings again)
Jack of Blades: It better not be that asthmatic pervert again. I swear to Aishi, if it is just heavy breathing I'm gonna pant back.
(He reluctantly answered.)
Jack of Blades: Je ouevre le Anglais chien.
(A strange rattling sound of some sort comes across the phone. After a few seconds, the camera cuts back to the crane game, and shows it's little Kikyo giving Jack a raspberry long distance. The raspberry goes on for a good 30 second, the camera cutting back and forth between Jack and Ellis before hanging up.)
Ellis: Have you gotten that out of your system?
Kikyo: Yesh.
Ellis: Good, let's go get lunch.
(And the two make their leave, walking offscreen of Blades drops the receiver to the hook somewhat stunned at the incredulous response of Kikyo. Not that the camera can tell with his face completely covered in bandages with two invisible tunnels allowing for vision. He swivels on his office chair and returns to his telescope to watch Ms. Thompson undress from her yoga class and be completely oblivious to Mr. Bains, the bankrupt accountant, murdering his wife with a spanner to redeem her insurance which is happening two doors down)
---
(A tall glass of orange juice accompanied by shades of burnt toast made its way up the stairs of Jack's opulent housing. Being commanded by his hispanic housekeeper to 'keep his powder dry' was something that Jack was having difficulty with. Jack of Blades, sitting there with his face enveloped in wraps of bandage, had not hired her. The company had taken the liberty of doing it for him. Despite his protest, here she was forcing him to eat buttered toast and get some vitamin C. It had been a disparaging week for Blades. At its opening, he had a white-collar infidel invade his house. Soon after, he had been commanded not to persist with his match against Kikyo under the threat of litigation. And even though, his match at Slam had ended with him perpetually smelling burnt flesh, the real kicker had been the fact that his attempts to kill his housekeeper had failed. Greasing the stairs only caused her to request that the Television champion massage her portly legs. Replacing the lighter fluid with gasoline had only resulted in a barbecue. And now she was forcefeeding him a hearty breakfast. As she laid the cutlery out, she asked him what he was doing. Blades removed himself from his telescope to ask if she had ever 'seen Rear Window?' The answer was negatory and Blades begun to choke down his meal until interrupted by a vibrating receiver and a tone perforating the humming of a Spanish wifetale by his employee.)
Jack of Blades: - Hello Dominoes, thirty minutes or your cheese-and-bread combo is cold.
(the camera cuts briefly to what seems like the interior of a crane game, and the two figures leaning against the glass. Kikyo's wide-eyes smile is concentrating on the crane as her tiny hands work the controls, a look of slight frustration whenever the shimmering claw comes up empty, but still plugging away quarter after quarter. The other figure is facing away, but from the new leather jacket... the Hitman insignia replaced with the symbol of a scythe and the letter "E" mocking the Russian flag... it's just a preliminary design, they can change it, she remembered being told when she saw it... but from the visible scarred skin and shimmering grey hair, it's obvious who it is.
Ellis: (singing) What is this that you keep selling me, boy?... I'm not gonna hold your hand here when you walk… You'll burn in hell while they're digging you out... (speaking) do the burns of Loncindia's incineration across your gaze keep that steadfast hold to the bandages marring that hideous face, my dearest Jack?
(Kikyo's expression falls a bit realizing who Ellis was calling, but she kept her gaze intent on the crane.)
Jack of Blades: Ich spreche nein Englisch.
Ellis: Good. Play dumb, Jack. It seems to be the trade that suits your altered gaze. Much as a wretched mongrel keeps going to the table for scraps after the newspaper crosses it's face, I tried to rectify the one thing I told you was off-limits. I spoke it myself with the taste of my blood. Second Stage chimed in with the unkindliest cut. Has Longcindia's incineration changed your behavior, or must things escalate further?
(At this, the fumbling of hands can be heard on Jack's end of the reciever. It stops only for the silence to be dispelled by the epic screech of a recorder falling from note to note and piercing his interlocuter's receiver. After it falls in pitch, it is soon joined by the trademark manic laugh. Ellis is forced to remove the phone from her ear for just a second as the notes barely permeate the loud sounds of wherever this crane game is located. A black kitty cat makes it halfway across the screen, before fumbling out of the claw's grip, much to Kikyo's dismay.)
Ellis: Well, it'd appear that my singing voice beats yours hands-down, Jack. And as of last night's events, my face seems in far better shape than yours as well.
(Kikyo sighs at the conversation going on beside her... this mean streak in Ellis' tone ever since her pinfall victory over Jack was a little disturbing, but it was better than depression)
Jack of Blades: Trust me, doll. My skin may flake and my scabs may water but I still look better than some self-harming anorexic who breaths fire. So it that why you've rang me? To taunt me while I'm down...?
(He begins to sob but it's obviously quite fake until he breaks into laughter.)
Ellis: Seemed like the kind of thing you'd do.
Jack of Blades: Ha. I'm so proud. You're picking up a few of my traits, I see. And you've even developed a sense of humour. But unfortunately and this does answer your previous question, no I'm not done with you yet.
Ellis: Well then... it would seem you're more of an idiot than I thought. What kind of things would it take for me to convince you that toying with the dead is a bad idea? There are forces at hand that you, of all people, couldn't understand... and in the killing end, dearest Jack, when that last gasp comes from your wretched frame and you end up becoming part of the world I guard over... just remember. It was you who slit the first incision into this final cut.
Jack of Blades: Ah, you can talk about the killing end all you want and how I've irrevocably involved myself in things that I shouldn't have but what you should really concern yourself with is the killing joke. You see, despite my burnt facial features, you're just dancing for the puppet master...
(Jack's tirade is broken up by the questioning of whether he would like eggs in a latino voice. The response? "No, I don't want any bloody eggs." A gesture of physical violence is heard and combined with an angered latino voice remonstrating him for talking in such a manner to his elders.)
Ellis:... and in spite of the repeated warnings and the chiming in of Longcindia and my dearest Second Stage, you seem not to get the point. I've marred you. I've scarred you. If you want to go insofar as to talk about this business I don't think either of us really cares about, I've pinned you. I've proved you no better to the realm of the dead, Jack. I see no more threat from you. The only problems marring my gaze now is this... how did Kikyo put it?... "good old boy network" we both seem to be having problems with. You with the Dreadknocks, and me with Nytro and Torture... and assuredly Creeping Death, as those three are aligned. Once I get through Timebomb, and carve my blade through Hughes and the figures not worthy to make the killing end... maybe I'll play with you a bit more.
(Finally, after a good 5 bucks, the little black kitty makes it's way to the end of the crane and drops in the prize slot, which Kikyo retrieves and shows to Ellis with glee, before realizing that Ellis is trapped in her own little world again.)
Jack of Blades:...Oh Ellis, my dear. You should have realised that I've found a new puppet now.
(At this, his end of the conversation is finalised with the dull tone of a receiver being hooked. A frustrated sigh comes from the living dead girl as she finally takes notice of the toy cat Kikyo had won. Ellis nods, then looks slightly confused as Kikyo asks for the phone. She hands it to the Japanese prodigy as the camera cuts back to Jack, and the phone rings again)
Jack of Blades: It better not be that asthmatic pervert again. I swear to Aishi, if it is just heavy breathing I'm gonna pant back.
(He reluctantly answered.)
Jack of Blades: Je ouevre le Anglais chien.
(A strange rattling sound of some sort comes across the phone. After a few seconds, the camera cuts back to the crane game, and shows it's little Kikyo giving Jack a raspberry long distance. The raspberry goes on for a good 30 second, the camera cutting back and forth between Jack and Ellis before hanging up.)
Ellis: Have you gotten that out of your system?
Kikyo: Yesh.
Ellis: Good, let's go get lunch.
(And the two make their leave, walking offscreen of Blades drops the receiver to the hook somewhat stunned at the incredulous response of Kikyo. Not that the camera can tell with his face completely covered in bandages with two invisible tunnels allowing for vision. He swivels on his office chair and returns to his telescope to watch Ms. Thompson undress from her yoga class and be completely oblivious to Mr. Bains, the bankrupt accountant, murdering his wife with a spanner to redeem her insurance which is happening two doors down)
