> M in Plureality

Dan shook his head, the wind whipping across his neck. His head was pounding and the sirens and flashing lights were not helping. He tried to focus on the scene, his arm weighing heavy, looking down to the black megaphone in his hand. The spotlight gliding across the night sky, stopping on a rooftop some ten stories up. He could make out the shadow of a figure.   

“Max!” an officer yelled at him. “The chopper will be here soon. She’s agreed to let you and only you come up. Let’s get you connected and cabled - you are being dropped in, no weapons…” 

“Wait a minute-” Dan stammered, trying desperately to wrap his head around what was happening…  

*whomp whomp whomp*  

He heard the bird coming before he could see it, the dust flying around, stinging his eyes, the pounding in his head almost unbearable. 

“Ready to go, Max,” the young officer yelled over the growing roar of the chopper.  

“Wait a minute…my name’s…” 

Soon there were hands all over him hooking up the harness. He felt the clang of the safety buckles, he felt the tug on his waist, and soon his feet were off the ground. Watching the city grow smaller in the night sky as the chopper took him up hovering just above the rooftop, then slowly lowering him down. “Release, release,” he heard the officer in the chopper yell down to him. 

Not sure what to do, Dan tugged on the line hanging just to his left and he felt himself begin to fall, dropping with a thud onto the rooftop below him. “Wait!” he called, looking up and watching as the chopper disappeared. “What the fuck is going on?” he thought to himself.  

“Don’t come any closer,” the voice called out to him. He could make out her figure now, short woman, blackish brown hair. He could hear her crying.  

“My name’s…” He stopped for a minute… Thinking back to everyone calling him Max… Officer Max…  

“I am going to do it, Max!” she cried, turning...“What the hell?” she stammered, catching her first look at him… 

“Dan?” she asked. 

“xxxxxx?” he asked back.

Teaser for a Beginning That Never Was

FADE IN ON:

SHADOWS

Parts of the screen slowly lightens to reveal what appears to be silhouettes on a graffiti-filled wall. The shadow of figures thrown onto the wall by firelight.

A figure comes into focus to reveal CONTROL. He's walking towards the camera from the shadows, a smile upon his face showing his pearly white teeth. He's heading to the firelight.

MAGS is sitting by a campfire; she is leaning back on a log and sipping some whiskey from a bottle. She sees CONTROL walking into the light. She takes a swig from the bottle and then hands it to CONTROL who takes a long pull from it and then hands it back to her.

CONTROL
Magriel.

MAGS
Control.

MAGS looks at the bottle and then places it down beside her.

CONTROL
Here we are at your request.

CONTROL looks around and nods.

CONTROL
How fitting of a place. This is where it began, didn't it?

MAGS nods.

MAGS
Something needs to be said.

CONTROL
That it does.

The Devil You Say?

EXT. A JAIL IN MEXICO - DAY
It's early morning as a patrol car pulls up into the parking lot. It parks beside a couple of other cars. The camera pans with the OFFICER as he exits his car, goes to the trunk and takes out a small box. He then heads towards the JAIL HOUSE.

A young boy steps out and salutes the OFFICER.

BOY
Hola, Sir

OFFICER
Morning.

INT. JAIL LOBBY - DAY
The Officer enters the lobby, he places the box on a desk. Taking out a small brown paper bag, he walks over to one of the cells.

OFFICER:
Yo Rubiks Cube. You got mail.

Officer tosses the brown paper bag onto the bed.

INT. JAIL CELLS - DAY
MAX is sitting in a lotus position in the center of the cell. Stripped down to his boxers. His body is covered with many scars; bullet wounds, claw marks and what looks like several blades as well. He is covered in sweat and his eyes are closed.

INT. JAIL LOBBY - DAY
The Officer returns to his desk, takes a coffee mug from it and heads for the coffee machine. Where a lovely woman is sitting on a bench at the moment and filing her nails.

OFFICER:
How long has he been up?

NAILS:
According to Manu, he's never been to sleep yet.

OFFICER
How come we get the American weirdos?

INT. JAIL CELLS - DAY
Max opens his eyes. He reaches for the brown paper bag and opens it up. He takes out a cellphone and looks at it, and then places it beside him.

EXT. EAST TEXAS RANCH - DAY
A gorgeous, bikini-clad woman is sitting by a pool. Tanning. A long slender drink is at the table beside her as well as a cellphone. She is lying there with her eyes closed, and then her watch begins to chime. She picks up the cellphone and dials.

INT. JAIL CELLS - DAY
The cellphone rings. Max reaches for it, and snaps it open.

LUCY (V.O.)
Hola Max.

MAX
(into phone)
Ms. Morningstar. What the hell do you want after all these years?

EXT. EAST TEXAS RANCH - DAY
LUCY is sitting up in her chair. She has a servant who hands her another drink. She takes it and dismisses the servant.

LUCY
(into phone)
It's been a long time. We've got a lot of catching up to do. I heard that you were in the region and I figured I'd give you a call.

MAX (V.O)
I'm touched.

LUCY
(into phone)
It's one of the reasons why I called you.

MAX (V.O.)
And you couldn't take time out of your schedule to pay me a visit?

LUCY
(into phone)
Well, I've arranged for you to get an early release.

MAX (V.O.)
That's mighty nice of you.

LUCY
(into phone)
Any second now it should be.

EXT. JAIL - DAY
A black sedan drives up to the jail, parking beside the police car. Two gorgeous ladies in black suits step out. One carrying a briefcase.

INT. JAIL CELL ­- DAY
Max walks to the barred window and glances outside.

MAX
(into phone)
Damn.

London Calling

1942 London

Maggie stepped out of the pub and walked down the street. The night had a surreal feel to it and the sky was lit up with search lights, much akin to a Hollywood premiere.

She turned up the collar of her jacket and headed down Chambers towards the safe haven of her home. Air raid sirens sang in the night like demonic beasts calling out to the very gods that had banished them.

From the shadows behind her two forms melted out and began following her. Maggie could hear their footfalls echoing off the walk but she didn't pick up the pace; she wanted them to feel a false security. 

Poor bastards, she thought to herself. As her hand slipped a button open and she felt the cool hilt of her katana.

"Hello Maggie," a voice up ahead said as he stepped out of the shadows.

Maggie stopped and looked ahead. A feeling of uneasiness washed over her like a broken faucet.

"Didn't expect to see me anytime soon," the man said as it stepped closer.

"Hopefully tonight will be the last time," Maggie replied as her coat dropped to her feet.

In Dark Corners of Interrogation

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT

MAX sits at the end of a table. From an ashtray a cigarette smolders. A video tape camera is focused on MAX. He is covered in splashes of red (blood). A DETECTIVE leans up against the wall by the rooms only door. CONTROL enters; he drops a manila folder on the table then looks at the DETECTIVE.

CONTROL:
Get us a coffee.

The DETECTIVE eyes MAX and then nods.

DETECTIVE:
Sure, Dan.

The DETECTIVE exits, closing the door behind him. CONTROL reaches over and shuts off the video tape.

MAX:
Dan. That your name?

CONTROL:
No, that's your name.

MAX:
(puzzled look)
What do you want?

CONTROL:
When are you going to end this charade? This multi-faceted facade you got going on? It will end when you acknowledge it.

MAX:
I don't know what you mean?

CONTROL leans across the table. He takes out two six-sided dice from his vest pocket and places them in front of MAX.

CONTROL:
You know damn well what is going on, and only you can fix that. Because right now you really are in some serious shit.

MAX:
(has a faraway look)
What do you mean by that?

CONTROL:
It's a game, Max. You're a character in a game!

MAX:
A what?

CONTROL:
I'm here to snap you out of it.

MAX hesitates, then...

MAX:
What do you mean?

CONTROL:
It means these two things control you destiny.

MAX:
Nothing controls my destiny. I am me.

CONTROL reacts. Backhands MAX.

CONTROL:
Let's stay on subject...

MAX:
A might touchy are we?

CONTROL picks up the folder that is on the table. Opens it and takes out one sheet and places it in front of MAX.

CONTROL:
What's this?

MAX:
(looking confused)
A character sheet!

CONTROL:
What's on it?

MAX:
(looks up at CONTROL)
My stats?

CONTROL:
Bingo.

This is Dangerous, I Walked Through Minefields...

"Magriel!" a voice in the crowd shouted, which made Mags turn around. She was scanning the faces, and then an old familiar face caught her eye and made a smile brighten hers; like a sun going supernova.

"Gabby!" Mags replied. She stepped forward and the two old friends embraced.

"I didn't know you were here," Gabby stated as she stepped back and looked more closely at her. "It's been a long, long time since we did something together."

"Come on," Mags said. "Let's have a coffee and do some catching up."

Remembrancing

Max stood amongst the crowd around the memorial. The sun had broken through the clouds earlier and brought down a ray of light upon the group. Both the sun and the clouds were dancing that tango, that tango of a crisp Autumn day. Being thankful that rain wasn't showing up, although it would be fitting.

A bugle sounded off in the distance and many heads were bowed in unison, out of respect for those who had perished, from wars long ago and not long ago. Pretty placed his hand on Max's shoulder. "How goes it pal?" 

Max gave him a sideways glance. "Glad to have you here."

"Wouldn't miss this for the worlds," Pretty replied; he had on his greys, with no medals; he wanted to be part of the crowd. "My name would have been carved in stone with Morris and Thandlerude if it wasn't for you."

Max smiled upon hearing Thandlerude's name. He remembered when he was sitting at post, and Thanderlude would be leaning back and playing his harmonica, and old blues song. Max could hear the song in his head but he had forgotten the name.

"Thandlerude," Max repeated. "What was that song he constantly played?"

Pretty thought about it for a few seconds. "I really don't know. But it was a haunting melody. I think it was an Otis Rush tune."

The bugle was done and then a little girl stepped forward and spoke into the mic. She was repeating a poem that was written many years ago, about a field. A field where flowers grew among the dead.

"I am going to look into it," Max said. He felt the vibration of his cellphone, but he made no attempt to answer it. He could talk later, now was the time of remembrance.

Out of the Woods and Back Into the Fight

Mags was tossed like a rag doll; she went flying up and over the trees about 300 yards away, came crashing down hitting branches and bouncing off a couple of trees along the way. 

It wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last time that this sort of thing had happened.

She hit the ground with a sickening thud and lay still for several seconds before she lifted up her head.

"Ow," she muttered to herself. She began to pick herself up and shake the dizzying feeling from her body. Glancing around to see if she could see her katana. It was stuck in the ground, like a marker of sorts.

She saw it just a few feet from her and picked her battered and bruised body up, staggered over to the sword, and headed in the direction where she was thrown from.

She picked up the pace a little and upon leaving the tree line she bolted towards the combat. Max, Angst and Frank where still engaged with the robotic beast that towered 30 feet tall.

"It's my turn now," Mags whispered to herself as she brought up her katana and sped like a demon across the field to her intended target.

Pistol Whipped

"Look Max, I am the one with the gun here," Nell said. "You're in a sorry-ass state, Max. I got orders to pull this trigger and blow your fucking head clean off.

"Well," Max rasped through a swollen jaw, "I guess a date is out of the question."

Nell brought up the butt of the gun to strike at him again but Ally got in the way when she brought her face close to Max.

"You're screwed," Ally told Max. 

"Hah!" Max replied, startling the both of them. A spittle of blood flew from his mouth and touched Ally and Nell.

Nell brought up the butt of the gun and struck Max on the side of the skull, near the temple, sending his head back like JFK after the fatal shot from the grassy knoll.

"You killed him you bitch!" Ally screamed at Nell. "He's worth more to us alive."

Nell grabbed Max's head and showed Ally that, even though he was battered and bruised, he was still breathing, if only barely.

"You call me bitch one more time and I will fucking shoot you!" Nell warned her.

"Bitch," came a reply from the doorway. Nell turned to see a slender form with flowing red hair.

> Simon in Plureality

In talking about it, and writing about it 

he placed his burdens 

on display, the fashion of anguish. 

Making the effort to extend and externalize, 

begging to be objectified, handled,  

caressed, placed on her night-table,  

the last thing seen before sleep, 

a dream totem. Small and easily held, 

her hands all about him.  

  

He was counting on the gravity of his suffering, 

the exquisite curvature of his past and future, 

drawing her deep into the well of his now, 

like a pit, like euclidian trajectories bent 

into the circles of inferno. He felt warped, 

and warping, and needed someone to act  

as the planet, the source of his distortion, 

its cause become the effect,  

a want into need like matter into energy. 

  

In his behaviour he offered up his troubles 

in a performance to imaginary gods 

in the covert hope she'd arrive to reveal 

that they were in fact alone and therefore only together 

and therefore his troubles hers and hers his only, 

and he pretended his performance of faith  

only for the day when she  

might come to break it, another faith hidden 

and nesting within the hollow husk. 

  

He imagined it might be like the spreading of 

an infection, his burdens passed onto her 

and they becoming alike in swelling and fever.

The Beginning of the Beginning

TEASER

FADE IN: 
A shot of a store-front window, the name painted on the front large picture window stating Eddie's Tea House with Coffee.

CUT TO:
Sidewalk POV up at the window as the glass shatters, camera follows body flying out the window over the camera.

MAX tumbles on the sidewalk, rolls up on his feet, bringing up his guns and firing through the busted store-front window. He makes a mad dash down the street firing behind him.

CUT TO:
FAT EDDIE stands at the broken window glancing out. His henchman MAN LING stands beside him hands clasp behind his back.

FAT EDDIE:
Max Cube will pay for this!

MAN LING:
Oh that he will, master.

FAT EDDIE:
You know what to do

MAN LING:
Call in She-Devil!

Underneath the Blanc Mansion

The platform was empty, dusty and full of cobwebs. It hadn't been used in a long, long time. The doors slid open and Max stepped out, stepping onto the dust covered platform, leaving a shoe imprint. He was like Neil Armstrong who set foot upon a strange world for the first time, but his speech wasn't as poetic and as grammatically messed up as Armstrong's was.

Max wasn't wearing an environmental protection suit, just his battle gear. A t-shirt with a tarot card of Death on it... and on the back of his shirt: Are You Prepared? 

"Time to boogie," Max said.

Suki followed him, the Godhammer powered up, her arm a radiant light of death, said, "Lead on, Boss."

Akimoto brought up the rear with a huge sword; also a battle scowl was on his face much akin to a mime.

Faux Blog

An excerpt from Cube_Squared journal at Ghostbloggers:

The temple of your gods smile upon me, showing no remorse. For I am the light, or am I the truth; I am a fragmented being with no true form. No form whatsoever, a coherent thought holds rationality.
Under the notion of a burning sun, like sand become glass over time. Unbreakable and not brittle, as strong as steel.
I move my fingers and each are in different realities that I haven't been to, but I can feel what they are like. The hair on my body are like antennas, receiving signals. Beckoning like a Fraudian slip showing me the way, but promising nothing at all.