A Bleak Moment

January 5 2005

Royce is found walking around in his courtyard. The day is growing to a close and dusk setting in. The sun has set and passed over the horizon and the clouds are clinging to hold onto the fading light of day. The wind is almost nonexistent and not a single servant from the house of Royce is to seen within the yard.

Royce: The beckoning voices of woe call from the distance all the while falling on deaf ears.

Royce leans back with laughter.

Royce: Sorry, felt like throwing out a deep statement that will be understood by about thirty percent... A fear is brewing and the silence is becoming bleak. I find myself on the crosshairs of a quiet foe. Oh well, it is only what I can expect. Especially from a lame excuse for a competitor the likes of Sharp.

Royce reaches down and picks up a blade of grass. He flips it around in his hand for a few moments and looks up in the camera.

Royce: You see this meek piece of greenery, alone and vulnerable. The defenses it holds are few.

Royce slides his finger across its edge roughly. Blood, red as the evening horizon seen through the smog, begins to erupt from the open wound now sheered in Royce’s finger.

Royce: But there is always some sort of infliction that can come from even the smallest most insignificant material. So my point being, before I fly to far over your head is that, yes even you Sharp, a petty harmless individual such as your self has a few weapons in your arsenal. No matter how modest they can be. So I do admit I must watch myself at even the smallest action. That, however is not to say that this will be a daunting task. Hell, from what I have seen in some of these videos of your past matches… [Laughs] Well lets just say that I have seen more talent come forth from a bum midget I kick off the curb as I walk out of a local pub.

Royce grasps both ends of the blade of grass and shreds it apart gently.

Royce: I will take great joy in making this match prolong as far as possible. I wish not to only win dear Sharp, but to bring you pain beyond the dreams which you woke up shaking while you still wet those linens as a child. I will enlighten you to a nightmare that will grasp your soul and rip it from your weak clutches.

Royce rolls over in laughter and finally lifts himself to his feet.

Royce: Too much?… too much description? May be so… Oh well might have sounded better while it was in my head. [More Laughter] I believe I am having far too much fun with this.

Royce steps out of his courtyard and enters his the back door. Nothing can be heard but a distant ring of the telephone.

Royce: Mario, damn butler. What are you good for? Get the phone!!!….

Royce shakes his head and walks into the living room.

Royce: Hell, must I do every thing around here. What do I pay you bastards for?

Royce snatches up the headset and spits into the phone.

Royce: What is it? This better be important.

A indistinguishable mumble sounds from the phone. It must be something of substance because a puzzled look comes over his face.

Royce: So… is there a problem?...

Pause. More mumbling.

Royce: Fine send him up…

Royce slams down the phone and fires up a cigarette. The smoke whiffs from the white cylinder and surrounds his face. Royce blows out a couple rings toward the camera shortly throwing off the focus. He finishes out the rest of the smoke, releasing it through is nose, reminiscent of a dragon resting in its lair. The view similar due to the dim lights and red iridescent glow of the muted television. The channel stuck on some heavy metal station and a music video showing only blood red liquid pouring down the screen. The closed captioning is own, but the words are foreign. German… complete gibberish…

Royce: Alright sorry to interrupt my little sermon but I have some business to attend to… If you don’t mind… Just one moment.

Royce turns and heads toward the front door. As he approaches a loud thumping is heard from the other side. Royce swings open the door and a Mexican fellow about 45 or so years of age. Possibly older, obviously skin wrinkled from the sun. A rough character, probably someone from one of Royce’s factories…. Some back history… Royce’s wealth isn’t come by legally, some shady dealings through the years and quick motion up the ranks has him very, VERY well off. But it’s not with out its downfalls. This being one of them.

Man: Royce we have a problem. The factory near ***** (censored… can’t have you knowing everything) has been located. There are Feds everywhere.

Royce never wavering, never flinching, tosses his cigarette aside, reaches out and grabs the mans collar. His calm demeanor becoming very eerie.

Royce: Abort the shop. And what is there, ten people located in the sweat shop nearby? I want a list of any that may know anything and I want it by tonight. By tomorrow I want this… How do I put it… I want it cleared up… Do whatever is necessary. No matter the actions…

Royce releases the man and slams the door in is his face without another word. He swings around and faces back up to the camera. He situates his collar and begins to unbutton his sleeves.

Royce: Sorry about that little occurrence. My private business running into sort of a snag. So back to the original subject… You Dominic Sharp…

Royce takes a seat in the den and lights up the fire place. The lights are just as most in the house remain. Dark, but with at least one area of light, this room being the bright yellow, cast across the walls from the flickering flames in the fireplace.

Royce: A beautiful sight is it not?... Anyway, Sharp I do hope that you make at least one more appearance in front of the camera before our match. I would just like to offer the fans out there one more shot of your face before it will require reconstruction this coming weekend. The Embargo has been in need of a victim for some time now and who better to break her back in than you. I do hope our meeting will not spoil your holiday spirit. But then again how could it, New Years has come and gone and what is next, a bogus money pit holiday in February? Bah what a joke… However, fear not, you should be healed by your next family dinner. So until we meet within that squared circle… Hmmm a symbol of speech which still stands pointless to me... Anyway, until we meet within those four posts…. Much better…. I do hope you will have your stretcher waiting on hand. I truly wish not for you to have to wait too long for medical assistance. Till then I shall bid you farewell.

Royce lights up another cigarette and the camera begins to fall back. The room grows darker until the only visible thing is the flickering flames of the fireplace and the red cherry of the freshly lit cigarette. The view rests on this scene for a moment until completely fading to black.

FIN