Rook Black
Live Long and Pants.
(FADE IN: ROOK in his black and white monochrome ring gear, marching along the line of his NATIONAL GUARD, standing at attention. The GUARD are in their black and blue uniform, with the blue berets and mirrorshade sunglasses. ROOK bears the National Title on his shoulder.)
ROOK: "Nine Hundred and Twenty-three."
ROOK: "The days that I held the National Title before Legion's creative officiating brought that to an end."
(ROOK stares out into the distance.)
ROOK: "Admittedly, I'd never have known if not for the detailed work of those who count this sort of thing."
ROOK: "But Nine Hundred and Twenty-three days. You'll forgive me if I allow myself the smallest slice of pride over this."
(ROOK turns upon the camera, and lifts the belt off his shoulder, and snaps it in place around his waist.)
ROOK: "That's some fantastic precedent there. On the Nine Hundred and twenty-third day, I lost this belt, and reclaimed it again the same night."
ROOK (pointing a thumb at his chest): "You cannot take this from me. Not one of you. Without exception."
ROOK: "I dare, no I demand, that you, any of you, prove otherwise."
ROOK: "Are you directionless? Come to me. Are you bored? Let me entertain you."
ROOK (sneering): "Think you're better than me? Better than this title? Do you hold it and me in contempt?"
ROOK: "FIGHT ME FOR IT."
(ROOK seethes, his heavy breathing blowing in and out audibly.)
ROOK: "If you won't fight, then you are afraid. That cannot be disputed, debated, or excused."
ROOK: "If you won't fight, it's because you're scared. Not interested? Not interested in losing to me, not interested in finding out that you're not my better after all."
ROOK: "If you won't fight me, it's because you fear me."
(ROOK unsnaps the belt, and hoists it onto his left shoulder. He smiles.)
ROOK: "And what's worse-
(ROOK's face suddenly turns red and his eyes bulge)
ROOK: "WHAT'S WORSE-"
(ROOK's composure slowly returns to a measured tone.)
ROOK: "Is that your fear, your cowardly decision to evade me-
ROOK (shouting): "WON'T PROTECT YOU."
(ROOK shuts his eyes. A long deep breath and his eyes open again composed.)
ROOK: "Our exciting world title scene can't last forever in the state it's in. There will be wins and losses, and the losers are going to either vanish entirely or be bounced down to me."
ROOK: "At the same time, by attrition, by the elimination of other possibilities, you're going to find yourself facing me whether you like it or not. Because by BEATING everyone who is put in my way, I'm going to be steadily rising, as the names of people that I haven't put away become fewer and fewer."
ROOK: "The other interests, the other pursuits, the excuses you have to go after folks other than myself? They are finite. The distance you try to put between us will continually shrink in spite of your best efforts."
ROOK: "It's inevitable. It's inexorable. It's the end of the rope that you've been hanging yourself from by hiding from me."
(ROOK smiles. He takes the National Title in hand and thrusts it forward.)
ROOK: "See this? This is mine. Try to take it from me if you're not too scared to learn that you can't."
ROOK: "Nine Hundred and Twenty-three."
ROOK: "The days that I held the National Title before Legion's creative officiating brought that to an end."
(ROOK stares out into the distance.)
ROOK: "Admittedly, I'd never have known if not for the detailed work of those who count this sort of thing."
ROOK: "But Nine Hundred and Twenty-three days. You'll forgive me if I allow myself the smallest slice of pride over this."
(ROOK turns upon the camera, and lifts the belt off his shoulder, and snaps it in place around his waist.)
ROOK: "That's some fantastic precedent there. On the Nine Hundred and twenty-third day, I lost this belt, and reclaimed it again the same night."
ROOK (pointing a thumb at his chest): "You cannot take this from me. Not one of you. Without exception."
ROOK: "I dare, no I demand, that you, any of you, prove otherwise."
ROOK: "Are you directionless? Come to me. Are you bored? Let me entertain you."
ROOK (sneering): "Think you're better than me? Better than this title? Do you hold it and me in contempt?"
ROOK: "FIGHT ME FOR IT."
(ROOK seethes, his heavy breathing blowing in and out audibly.)
ROOK: "If you won't fight, then you are afraid. That cannot be disputed, debated, or excused."
ROOK: "If you won't fight, it's because you're scared. Not interested? Not interested in losing to me, not interested in finding out that you're not my better after all."
ROOK: "If you won't fight me, it's because you fear me."
(ROOK unsnaps the belt, and hoists it onto his left shoulder. He smiles.)
ROOK: "And what's worse-
(ROOK's face suddenly turns red and his eyes bulge)
ROOK: "WHAT'S WORSE-"
(ROOK's composure slowly returns to a measured tone.)
ROOK: "Is that your fear, your cowardly decision to evade me-
ROOK (shouting): "WON'T PROTECT YOU."
(ROOK shuts his eyes. A long deep breath and his eyes open again composed.)
ROOK: "Our exciting world title scene can't last forever in the state it's in. There will be wins and losses, and the losers are going to either vanish entirely or be bounced down to me."
ROOK: "At the same time, by attrition, by the elimination of other possibilities, you're going to find yourself facing me whether you like it or not. Because by BEATING everyone who is put in my way, I'm going to be steadily rising, as the names of people that I haven't put away become fewer and fewer."
ROOK: "The other interests, the other pursuits, the excuses you have to go after folks other than myself? They are finite. The distance you try to put between us will continually shrink in spite of your best efforts."
ROOK: "It's inevitable. It's inexorable. It's the end of the rope that you've been hanging yourself from by hiding from me."
(ROOK smiles. He takes the National Title in hand and thrusts it forward.)
ROOK: "See this? This is mine. Try to take it from me if you're not too scared to learn that you can't."