Post by Dark Lord Simon de Montfort on Jul 28, 2015 10:34:46 GMT
The scene opens to an unmodern, yet clean kitchen. A window lies above the sink and through it you can see the deep blue sky with not a cloud in sight. On the ground there is little more than sand and rocks, and the hot air simmering in space distorts anything that might lie beyond.
In the background, a door can be heard opening and closing. The camera shakes slightly as the door slams shut and shakes the foundations of the building. The camera spins suddenly to Guernica, sitting on a marble table with his feet on a wooden stool. He looks at the camera and begins to speak:
‘Now this is what I’m talking about.’
‘This is what I’ve been trying to do since I arrived in this company. Searching for a weakness, looking for a breakthrough. I worked hard but eventually I broke through. I put myself on the scoreboard and pulled away from the starting block. Possibly most of all, I bet the devil of my debut. I beat Jack Gaither.’
‘Jack, that was one hell of a fight. You know that I mean this with all of my heart. I shook your hand after the match, patted on your back. I showed my respect, because it was a great fight. And above all, you’ll never guess what my first thought was after going back stage.’
‘I would love to face you again.’
‘So how rather convenient that I get to face you once more, in the last chance for any of us to sprint past the finishing line. We can make it to the top in what is being called out ‘Last Chance Saloon’. Our chance to join Alexander Atwater, Andrew Jacobsen and Malaki Toala in the final push to become rightful Heir To The Throne.’
‘So, I’ve been in the ring with you Jack plenty of times, and now that I know I’m capable of beating you I want to assure everyone that it was not a one-hit wonder. Not a fluke or a massive stroke of luck. I’m going to prove my worth this Sunday at Lineage...’
The scene fades to black as Guernica trails off.
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‘It's not uncommon to meet people who are a bit behind the curve in certain aspects, especially around a place where education and even life expectancy can be a dead minimum. But almost one-hundred percent of the time they are keen on something. They might not understand the simplest things, but they somehow know how to put up a fight, or make something nice that you can live on. You learn pretty quickly to not judge a book by its cover, you know what I’m saying?
‘I thought this was the unwritten rule until I met Blas Sala.’
The black fades into a scene of Guernica walking down the streets of Tijuana. This is the region of the Mexican city that is a bit more central and industrialized rather than the suburban hell that was the slums of the city. There are no beggars on the paths or shady kids hanging in alleyways.
Guernica takes a turn into a building, and a camera pans up to show a sign reading: ‘Blas Sala’s Tienda de Variedad – La Bazar’. Blas Sala’s Variety Store – The Bazar. The camera follows Guernica into the store. We see a range of different items from ladies conditioners and perfumes to sports equipment to historic memorabilia. It’s almost like a pawn shop with its massive selection.
From the counter, a tanned man with almost shining blonde hair shouts out: ‘Welcome to La Bazar. Look around, and enjoy your stay!’ Despite possibly saying this line hundreds of times a day, he says it with the blindest optimism he can muster.
Guernica ignores these calls and bee-lines for the sports equipment and ends up going behind the common gear and heads for the back of the store, where he finds various coloured shin pads. He drags his finger along the packs hanging from the wall before his stops on a long, thin pair, gold with seemingly random white engravings. He takes this pair and heads for the counter.
Guernica tosses his shin guards onto the counter. The man looks up at Guernica with an awkwardly forced scowl before speaking: ‘One pair of Pirma gold and white shinguards: One hundred and forty pesos.’ Guernica takes out one hundred and fifty pesos, and the man takes it only to clutch Guernica’s hand and start feeling it vigorously
‘You know, you can tell a lot by the look of somebody’s hand.’ Says the man. He begins muttering to himself words: ‘Long and clear life line, chained, swooping. Light and wavery head line, chained...’ Eventually, Guernica pulls his hand away. The blond man looks up, frowning.
‘You don’t want a palm reading?’ he enquires. Guernica simply stares at the man before replying: ‘This is bogus. This is as brainless a practice as astrology.’ The man once again scowls, which hints at Guernica what he’s going to say next. ‘What month were you born, son?’ Guernica’s reaction is immediate: ‘No, Blas. I’m not doing this.’
The camera zooms in on Guernica’s face, filled with a mix of insane bewilderment and a slight speck of anger. The frame freezes and Guernica’s voice over starts again.
‘It was at this moment that I realised that Blas Sala was quite possibly one of the most eccentric, if not the most eccentric person I would ever meet in Tijuana. Believing in astrology and palmistry is just about as much as I need to confirm that I probably will not like a person. I don’t judge a book by its cover, but the first few pages of his story wasn’t looking so good. There was time for that to change, though.’
Blas looks up at Guernica: ‘What makes you think that I’m Blas Sala?’ Guernica doesn’t hesitate in his reply: ‘Considering you are the only staff member here, Señor Sala, and your name is plastered on the outside of this store, I’m fairly sure you’re Blas. Am I correct?’
Blas nods. ‘Indeed. Well figured out, Sherlock.’ Guernica’s face turns suddenly into one of confusion. ‘I don’t know what that means...’ Blas pulls another face of disbelief. ‘You seriously don’t know what that means? Who the hell are you? Bones Brennan!?’
‘Who?’ replies Guernica. ‘She’s an- oh never mind. Do you need anything else? Actually, I need to get something.’ Blas turns to go backstage, but turns back to Guernica and in a heavily put on Austrian accent says: ‘I’ll be back.’ Guernica has a look of bafflement on his face, and Blas looks back at him: ‘You don’t know what that means, do you?’. Guernica shakes his head. ‘Right, right...okay.’
Once again, the frame freezes on Guernica’s puzzled face, and a voice over plays:
‘Before I met Blas Sala, I was under the illusion that I was as close to perfect as you were going to get in this area. I thought I was a clean blood, but Blas changed that. He looked at me in the same way that I first looked at him. The references he was making, which I later found out were pop culture references, were famous to almost any other person. But in my life, I’ve blanked out all of the outside, and its cost me.’
‘Some people have their weaknesses, and for so long I thought that I had none. I now know that I do, but they are hidden and could come out at any moment. Nobody is behind the curve. We are all at the same line, and we are all equal to eachother.’
‘All of this came to me because of that encounter with Señor Blas Sala.’
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We fade back to Guernica staring at the camera in his ancient kitchen. He is admiring something behind the camera before he returns his attention to the camera.
‘I’ve said enough to you, Jack. You know what’s coming next Sunday. But I must turn my attention to my other opponent, Señor Kyle Mason. Kyle, I’ve faced you before under similar circumstances to this one. Triple threat, the two of us versus an established member of the roster: Alexander Atwater in this case’
‘I was close to defeating you, but since I cannot say I have beaten you like I can to Gaither, I will not underestimate you because you can come out with anything. Like against Andrew Jacobsen, you could bring out some poison mist. Anything is possible’
‘You’ve also beaten Andrew Jacobsen, another thing I cannot say. On paper, you have the advantage over me, but I know that even if things swing in your favour on Sunday, I’m in with a massive chance of winning this match. You know that.’
‘The major thing is though; I want this more than anybody. If you’ve listened to me in the past you know that I want one on one with Jacobsen. We always meet in multi-man circumstances, and this is my chance to meet him head-to-head. I also want back at Alexander Atwater; I want my second chance at him. Even if I get drawn against Malaki Toala, it’s somebody new. I’ve been facing many familiar faces, and a new challenge is on the cards if nothing else suffices.’
‘So; Jack, Kyle; I’m taking this chance, and I’m not letting you two take it away from me without a fight. This Sunday, that ring will be a battleground and I’m going to come out as the last man standing.’
‘And if either of you two come out victorious, then I will shake your hand and I will wish you the best of luck.’
Well howdy there pardner.