Post by DJS on Jun 23, 2018 6:01:10 GMT -5
Denver, Colorado- a peaceful and lovely city, obviously. But even the nicest cities have their black spots.
In the middle of the city centre sits a bar, and a rather noisy one at that. Everyone can hear it, even over the sound of other bars. If it were a person, it'd be yelling at the top of it's voice 'notice me!' constantly. But that's not why the taxi driver notices. Slowing down, he looks at the bar from the safe confines of his vehicle, watching the ensuing carnage of what appears to be a bar-fight, and a fancy-dress one at that. Elvis and Michael Jackson smash ten different types of crap out of each other outside. He's mesmerised by the swelling of colours. Maybe it's because of how late it is.
Suddenly, the back door of the taxi smashes shut, as what appears to be a gorilla lies on the seats and raises one solitary paw. In the other hand, it has a belt of metal and leather.
The taxi driver does his job and goes on forwards. The gorilla sits up and exhales, loudly, before decapitating it's self to reveal a smaller head underneath, like a Russian doll. Well, an Irish Traveller doll. Emery Layton shoves her King Cobra Championship over her shoulder, and the full-head gorilla mask to the side.
The taxi driver laughs and Em stops, sitting up. She touches her face to see if there's something on it, she feels her back for a sign.
Em looks down at what she's wearing, curling her lip and shrugging.
She lies back down again.
She puts her hands over her face.
Emery sits up, holding the King Cobra title. In the reflection, she sees her own face and somehow it looks older than she remembers it looking. Maybe it's the drinking tonight, but she can see every blemish and crease in her skin, staring back at her.
Em looks up, noticing a barrage of lights once again. Familiar lights. The taxi driver looks around as Em sits up.
After handing a few green notes to the taxi driver, Emery shoves her gorilla mask back on and throws herself out of the vehicle. The driver watches in the rear-view mirror.
We leave as Mighty Joe Young gleefully suplexes a bear.
In the middle of the city centre sits a bar, and a rather noisy one at that. Everyone can hear it, even over the sound of other bars. If it were a person, it'd be yelling at the top of it's voice 'notice me!' constantly. But that's not why the taxi driver notices. Slowing down, he looks at the bar from the safe confines of his vehicle, watching the ensuing carnage of what appears to be a bar-fight, and a fancy-dress one at that. Elvis and Michael Jackson smash ten different types of crap out of each other outside. He's mesmerised by the swelling of colours. Maybe it's because of how late it is.
GORILLA:
Right- straight on, turn right, turn left, then turn right again, then another left, then down that long road, turn right, straight on, then left. We ain't got much time here- drive, man, DRIVE!
EMERY LAYTON:
Huh. Thanks man. It was getting pretty ugly in there, lemme tell ya. Everyone in there wanted a bit of me. Literally all I did was go in there, have a few drinks, absolutely kill it doing "Wuthering Heights" on karaoke and then somewhere along the way, maybe I did spill someone's drink but listen, I did my best not to, okay? Can't believe this. Night ruined. And on my birthday of all days!
TAXI DRIVER:
It's your birthday?
EMERY LAYTON:
Course! And last week. And the week before in London. And a few weeks ago in Chicago. Living that birthday life, man. Best way to get free drinks- trick I learned off a friend a few years ago. But it's my birthday next week, too. Really, though, my actual birthday- the real one, the proper one. Everyone's gonna be there...I think. A.J's got something planned, he says. I dunno what that's gonna be. But me? I got a big old week next week, and it's all happening in Denver. I missed out on something last year cos I was busy, but this year I finally get a chance to be a part of it. Used to fight in the trenches, me...but now it's all about Guerrilla Warfare.
EMERY LAYTON:
What's...?
TAX DRIVER:
Guerrilla Warfare. And you're dressed like a gorilla. I get it.
Em looks down at what she's wearing, curling her lip and shrugging.
EMERY LAYTON:
Sure. I mean this was kinda the only thing I had that was clean. And I'm not a gorilla. I'm Mighty Joe Young, thank you very much. It's my favorite film. Ever.
EMERY LAYTON:
But, getting back to birthdays...I ain't a fan of 'em. Imagine that- Emery Layton, Worst of the Pavees, life-and-soul of the room, not a fan of a day that celebrates her but nah. What's a birthday at the end of the day? It's a day that says 'hey, Em, another such-and-such years since you came into the world, another such-and-such years since you were all new and shiny and spick and span and now you're not- well done!' Everyone asks how 'old' you are, like it's a good thing, and it ain't. See I sound a little bit world-weary here and stuff, but even though I'm gonna be, what- twenty-six? Twenty-seven? I dunno, I'm hazy on that- I feel older. Dedicating my life to this sport means I'm constantly on the go, constantly hurting, constantly at-odds with people and stuff and things. A week can feel like a decade and I ain't had a lot of luck recently. Me being Trench War Champion feels like years ago. I think about that title and get, like, nostalgia for three months ago.
So much changes and so many things become different over the span of your life, so why celebrate things that are gone and the things you've already seen when there's so much coming up that you don't know nothing about, know what I mean?
She puts her hands over her face.
EMERY LAYTON:
But at the same time, I wanna move forward but I can't...I think about last year, and how it was brilliant. Everything I worked for and dreamed of became real, and it made me real reflective about times before that. I had loadsa friends over the years- one went mad, one was attacked and one went missing and no one knows why. But anyway as I told someone recently, I had to lose something in my life to gain something new, like some sorta conveyor belt. That just seems to be how my life goes, and I think me losing the Trench War title was to make room for that. To make room for new things.
Emery sits up, holding the King Cobra title. In the reflection, she sees her own face and somehow it looks older than she remembers it looking. Maybe it's the drinking tonight, but she can see every blemish and crease in her skin, staring back at her.
EMERY LAYTON:
I dunno how much longer I got doing this right now and especially with Coup De Grace running round the corner at screaming at me like an annoying kid, but I ain't gonna spend all of that time looking to the past. I'm gonna spend that time climbing new mountains and winning things I ain't never won before. That's why yeah, I am gonna be in Guerrilla Warfare, and I'm gonna win it. And if I can't win that, I'm gonna find another way to get where I wanna get. Forget the past, look to the future and see how pretty and shiny it is all you want, but there ain't no time like the present. It's crunch time, and if my friends wanna join me, no matter who it is- A.J, Fenric, Christina, Yasuko, Amy, whoever- they better be ready to run alongside me. Cos if you're running at me, I'm dropping you like a bad habit.
TAXI DRIVER:
What the-- I followed your directions. We're right back where we started!
EMERY LAYTON:
M-hmm, yep, now's my chance. Thanks for the chat. YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEE!
We leave as Mighty Joe Young gleefully suplexes a bear.
