Post by alycestarchylde on Jan 18, 2018 20:29:02 GMT -5
The scene is in black and white. The camera comes up on a tall man wearing a trenchcoat, with grizzled, short-cut hair. He is sitting on a bar stool and smoking a cigarette but the camera is behind him. The Royal Executioner's voice begins to narrate the scene.
EXECUTIONER (Narrating): I've never done this before but really, my identity doesn't matter much. So picture a red featureless mask on my face from here on out.
Suddenly the trenchcoat turns into a (presumably red, it's hard to tell in black and white) hooded robe. The camera spins around coming to his face now also covered in a featureless (again presumably red) mask. He is smoking without lifting up the mask which looks a little odd.
EXECUTIONER (Narrating): I was smoking. I always smoked when I was about to commit a crime. I spent so many years serving the law. And then, at the worst point in my life, the law not only failed me, but protected those who had hurt my family. And so then I embraced my will...and I took up smoking.
A woman approaches the bar, sitting on the bar stool next to him. Her skin is almost white and shimmers like diamonds. She wears a wide brimmed hat, A loose fitting white blouse with a diaphanous white scarf and a short white skirt. Her skin shimmers so brightly in the light that her features are almost completely obscured.
WOMAN: Hi there, My name is...
EXECUTIONER: No names. It's better that way.
WOMAN: So, what should I call you?
EXECUTIONER: Sir. Sir works just fine.
WOMAN: Okay, sir, I hear you do freelance work.
EXECUTIONER: I take a job now and then.
WOMAN: I need some work done.
EXECUTIONER: What kind of work?
WOMAN: I need a tradesman's contract terminated.
EXECUTIONER: A live-in tradesman?
WOMAN: Yeah, you judging?
EXECUTIONER: Nope, just getting all the job information I might need. What's the payoff?
WOMAN: Eight grand.
I shake my head.
EXECUTIONER: Can't do it for less than 10. I place a high value on human life.
WOMAN: Eight, I provide the tools and the transportation.
EXECUTIONER: 10 and I got both. I could keep neither tools nor transportation and they will lead to me and you. We don't need that.
WOMAN: She laughed. Both are untraceable. The official owners of both are the local PD.
EXECUTIONER: How did you luck into them?
WOMAN: I married well.
EXECUTIONER: Not for much longer...assuming you do cash up front.
WOMAN: What about half in advance, half after.
EXECUTIONER: You are going to be VERY scrutinized after...better to do it all up front.
She looks at me and then shrugs, sliding an envelope across the bar towards me. I don't touch it.
EXECUTIONER: Where did this come from? If it's from your bank people will question the reason for such a large withdrawal.
She laughs.
WOMAN: My husbands safe...it's a safe bet no one knows that money exists...except for some family accountant somewhere and he wont be in any hurry to talk about it?
EXECUTIONER: This tradesman? He belong to a Union?
She nods.
WOMAN: That scare you? You backing out now?
It was my turn to laugh.
EXECUTIONER: I just need to know how clean I need to make it look.
She slides me a pair of keys wrapped in bubble wrap.
WOMAN: The car is at the parking garage on 9th and McAllen. Tool's in the trunk. Address and alarm codes are in the glove compartment. Sunday night, he'll be home alone and probably drunk. Best time.
She left the bar without even ordering me a drink or paying my tab. Classless bitch.
Sometime later, I went and looked at the car...admired it, walked around it. Didn't touch it. Saw at least three obvious cameras in the parking garage probably more carefully concealed. I left. Went back to the bar. Saw Jimmy. Now Jimmy, his name is Jimmy Chavez but they call him Jimmy Chains. He's a heroin addict and a car thief. First car he stole was off a car carrying trailer attached to a semi. He forgot to remove the chains that had attached parts of it to the trailer...apparently he drove thirty miles with two of them still attached to the car which is how he got caught. Long story short, I gave him the car key. Told him I needed everything in the glove compartment that wasn't the registration or insurance. Twenty minutes later he put the codes and address in my hand.
An hour later, I hop off the bus in the LA suburb of El Segundo in a house that just might have escaped from a sitcom. I confirm the address and look at the edifice. I notice the fence complete with electricity, the pinpad at the gate and multiple cameras. I walk down the street and do my best to circumvent the property and stay out of the view of any security cameras.
Having a better idea of the layout of the place, I use a burner phone to call up some friends. They contact their friends who are mob connected and a few minutes later I ferret out that this guy is 'Mad' Dave Moody...officially a lawyer...but word on the street is he's got power and mob muscle and what he says he wants done gets done. That makes the woman Elizabeth Moody. Daughter of a model and a an actress, a lady who had no idea she was marrying the mob. However, rumor is, she took to it like a duck to water.
Using the burner phone, I call the house. Someone answers...it isn't Dave. I tell the flunky to have Dave check his office safe and if it's short eight grand he should give me a call. The flunky takes my number.
A few minutes later a very angry man calls me and explains to me just what is going to happen to me if I don't return his money. I explain I was given his money...and a car...and a gun...and the alarm codes to his house by Elizabeth. That stops him. He asks for proof...I recite his security codes...also that it was suggested he should be home and drunk Sunday evening. He asks what I want.
EXECUTIONER: There hangs a tale, my friend.
I tell him my tale.
Sunday night, I am far away on a boat I rented with the money she paid me, drinking a box of cigars that he sent me. He thinks she was going to set me up. I agree with him. I know she came home Sunday night expecting to find him dead...instead she found a council of his boys ready and waiting for her. Way I hear it, she didn't stop screaming even when they gagged her. I know she's gone missing now and 'Mad Moody' considers that eight grand money well spent.
Since then, I found religion...well sort of...and a Royal Family...but you don't mess with the Executioner!
So to my esteemed opponents at the West Coast Rumble...take all the time in the world, plan everything you like...but this Executioner, he's seen and done it all. There is not a damn thing I am scared of and there is no way on God's green earth you are getting past me. Not one of you. Not K-Remix, not the Sentinel and most certainly not John Gambino.
Let me make this clear. John's a bitch. He has been hiding behind a reputation as a goombah for years now but the problem is...no decent Italian family would have his ass around. He's a wanna-be Goodfella and the very fact that he has intimidated anyone, ever is laughable. Well, John, I've dealt with punks like you before and it's always the same...they are big and tough until you get them alone and then they cry like the bitches they are. I am absolutely going to break John's ass in two...and that's not a threat, Riggster...THAT'S A PROMISE!
And Silence, considering your ridiculous name allow me to give you a piece of advice...one I am surprised no one has ever given you before. Better to be SILENT and be thought a fool rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt. In short, please, shut the fuck up.
EXECUTIONER (Narrating): I've never done this before but really, my identity doesn't matter much. So picture a red featureless mask on my face from here on out.
Suddenly the trenchcoat turns into a (presumably red, it's hard to tell in black and white) hooded robe. The camera spins around coming to his face now also covered in a featureless (again presumably red) mask. He is smoking without lifting up the mask which looks a little odd.
EXECUTIONER (Narrating): I was smoking. I always smoked when I was about to commit a crime. I spent so many years serving the law. And then, at the worst point in my life, the law not only failed me, but protected those who had hurt my family. And so then I embraced my will...and I took up smoking.
A woman approaches the bar, sitting on the bar stool next to him. Her skin is almost white and shimmers like diamonds. She wears a wide brimmed hat, A loose fitting white blouse with a diaphanous white scarf and a short white skirt. Her skin shimmers so brightly in the light that her features are almost completely obscured.
WOMAN: Hi there, My name is...
EXECUTIONER: No names. It's better that way.
WOMAN: So, what should I call you?
EXECUTIONER: Sir. Sir works just fine.
WOMAN: Okay, sir, I hear you do freelance work.
EXECUTIONER: I take a job now and then.
WOMAN: I need some work done.
EXECUTIONER: What kind of work?
WOMAN: I need a tradesman's contract terminated.
EXECUTIONER: A live-in tradesman?
WOMAN: Yeah, you judging?
EXECUTIONER: Nope, just getting all the job information I might need. What's the payoff?
WOMAN: Eight grand.
I shake my head.
EXECUTIONER: Can't do it for less than 10. I place a high value on human life.
WOMAN: Eight, I provide the tools and the transportation.
EXECUTIONER: 10 and I got both. I could keep neither tools nor transportation and they will lead to me and you. We don't need that.
WOMAN: She laughed. Both are untraceable. The official owners of both are the local PD.
EXECUTIONER: How did you luck into them?
WOMAN: I married well.
EXECUTIONER: Not for much longer...assuming you do cash up front.
WOMAN: What about half in advance, half after.
EXECUTIONER: You are going to be VERY scrutinized after...better to do it all up front.
She looks at me and then shrugs, sliding an envelope across the bar towards me. I don't touch it.
EXECUTIONER: Where did this come from? If it's from your bank people will question the reason for such a large withdrawal.
She laughs.
WOMAN: My husbands safe...it's a safe bet no one knows that money exists...except for some family accountant somewhere and he wont be in any hurry to talk about it?
EXECUTIONER: This tradesman? He belong to a Union?
She nods.
WOMAN: That scare you? You backing out now?
It was my turn to laugh.
EXECUTIONER: I just need to know how clean I need to make it look.
She slides me a pair of keys wrapped in bubble wrap.
WOMAN: The car is at the parking garage on 9th and McAllen. Tool's in the trunk. Address and alarm codes are in the glove compartment. Sunday night, he'll be home alone and probably drunk. Best time.
She left the bar without even ordering me a drink or paying my tab. Classless bitch.
Sometime later, I went and looked at the car...admired it, walked around it. Didn't touch it. Saw at least three obvious cameras in the parking garage probably more carefully concealed. I left. Went back to the bar. Saw Jimmy. Now Jimmy, his name is Jimmy Chavez but they call him Jimmy Chains. He's a heroin addict and a car thief. First car he stole was off a car carrying trailer attached to a semi. He forgot to remove the chains that had attached parts of it to the trailer...apparently he drove thirty miles with two of them still attached to the car which is how he got caught. Long story short, I gave him the car key. Told him I needed everything in the glove compartment that wasn't the registration or insurance. Twenty minutes later he put the codes and address in my hand.
An hour later, I hop off the bus in the LA suburb of El Segundo in a house that just might have escaped from a sitcom. I confirm the address and look at the edifice. I notice the fence complete with electricity, the pinpad at the gate and multiple cameras. I walk down the street and do my best to circumvent the property and stay out of the view of any security cameras.
Having a better idea of the layout of the place, I use a burner phone to call up some friends. They contact their friends who are mob connected and a few minutes later I ferret out that this guy is 'Mad' Dave Moody...officially a lawyer...but word on the street is he's got power and mob muscle and what he says he wants done gets done. That makes the woman Elizabeth Moody. Daughter of a model and a an actress, a lady who had no idea she was marrying the mob. However, rumor is, she took to it like a duck to water.
Using the burner phone, I call the house. Someone answers...it isn't Dave. I tell the flunky to have Dave check his office safe and if it's short eight grand he should give me a call. The flunky takes my number.
A few minutes later a very angry man calls me and explains to me just what is going to happen to me if I don't return his money. I explain I was given his money...and a car...and a gun...and the alarm codes to his house by Elizabeth. That stops him. He asks for proof...I recite his security codes...also that it was suggested he should be home and drunk Sunday evening. He asks what I want.
EXECUTIONER: There hangs a tale, my friend.
I tell him my tale.
Sunday night, I am far away on a boat I rented with the money she paid me, drinking a box of cigars that he sent me. He thinks she was going to set me up. I agree with him. I know she came home Sunday night expecting to find him dead...instead she found a council of his boys ready and waiting for her. Way I hear it, she didn't stop screaming even when they gagged her. I know she's gone missing now and 'Mad Moody' considers that eight grand money well spent.
Since then, I found religion...well sort of...and a Royal Family...but you don't mess with the Executioner!
So to my esteemed opponents at the West Coast Rumble...take all the time in the world, plan everything you like...but this Executioner, he's seen and done it all. There is not a damn thing I am scared of and there is no way on God's green earth you are getting past me. Not one of you. Not K-Remix, not the Sentinel and most certainly not John Gambino.
Let me make this clear. John's a bitch. He has been hiding behind a reputation as a goombah for years now but the problem is...no decent Italian family would have his ass around. He's a wanna-be Goodfella and the very fact that he has intimidated anyone, ever is laughable. Well, John, I've dealt with punks like you before and it's always the same...they are big and tough until you get them alone and then they cry like the bitches they are. I am absolutely going to break John's ass in two...and that's not a threat, Riggster...THAT'S A PROMISE!
And Silence, considering your ridiculous name allow me to give you a piece of advice...one I am surprised no one has ever given you before. Better to be SILENT and be thought a fool rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt. In short, please, shut the fuck up.