Through a Glass Darkly

Show me the Champion of Light I'll show you the Herald of Darkness - The Old Gods of Asgard SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK A small, rectangle-shaped light sparks to life amid a cave-like darkness – a beacon against the blackness that is quickly excised from its resting and into the the claws of a meticulously manicured hand shimmering in neon pink polish.

With a groan, we hear - and then see - the face of a groggy Sonja Cuchilla, illuminated in the cold light of a smart phone screen. Her hair is wrapped in curlers, her eyes covered by a sleep mask, and face smeared with some sort of thick cream.

Pushing herself up by her elbows, Sonja lifts the flap of her sleep mask with the clarity of a patient waking from the sweet dreams of anesthesia, but in Sonja’s case, it is just the side effects of her extra-strength Ambien.

Given everything that has happened - everything “Kael and the Gang” put her through earlier in the evening - Sonja officially declared war and issued a “Dermatology DEFCON 1” alert that included much needed, heavily medicated beauty sleep, but with every notification and alert slowly sending her phone into a social media seizure, she just couldn’t help herself…

Sonja scrolls through her notifications, her heart racing as the vertical line of comments and likes never seemed to end.

@surfer_chix: BOSS BITCH! 👊🏽💋 @dragonflame001: Crocs > Gators, obvs! 🐊 @sonjasista: Sonja twin powers, activate! @leftonlurk: Mi reina! ❤️❤️❤️ @doggiestyle884: KAEL FAIL! LOL! @jessiesgirl24: You’re so brave! #STANFORSONJA #SAVE BLAZE @meatyoric_rise: How is Blaze? Is he OK? 💔😟😭 @ClaymuchillaStan: That’s how a REAL man fights for a woman. #BLAZEBEATDOWN @AVoidingtheVOID: You have to save him! SAVE HIM! SAVE HIM! SAVE HIM!

Sonja furrows her brow and then slides the phone back onto the end table, turning the screen downward, drowning out the light. She grabs at the side of her head and presses her palms against her temples, rubbing them slowly and cursing in Spanish.

Sonja Cuchilla: Joder… joder joder joder…

She rolls over to her side with a sigh and sees…

Nothing. No one.

Just the unoccupied side of a king-sized bed; pressed and folded as neatly as a furniture mart showroom showpiece.

Sonja lingers on the scene a split second before swinging her feet from under the covers and over the edge on her side of the bed. The empty space behind her watches as she pulls the covers back and tosses them to the side.

A pair of manicured feet slide into a pair of bubble-gum pink Prada slippers as she braces herself against the wall as she guides herself toward the bathroom.

Sonja passes the mirrored exterior of the large boxy closet all hotel rooms have and freezes. For a split second, it looks like her reflection is a step behind her.

She pauses. Looking into the reflection.

Sonja Cuchilla: Dios mio. Gotta ratchet back the Ambien next time…

Shaking her head and even letting herself smile a bit at the absurdity of it all, she stops again. This time as she sees the adjoining door in the hotel room cracked open with just a hint of light pouring through.

Sonja reaches out to pull the doorknob towards her, but pauses.

Somewhere on the other side of the walls she hears a familiar voice as her somnambulism is quickly replaced with unchecked fury.

ANNNNNND HEEERRE’S YOUR HOST, DONNNNNNIE WINTERS!

Sonja sneers, tightens her grip on the door handle and steps across the threshold. SOMEWHERE IN THE LIGHT Nathan couldn’t remember anything.

No, that wasn’t true… all he could do was remember. He just couldn’t recall, recollect, or recount.

One. 

Two. 

Three.

One. 

Two. 

Three.

One.

Two.

Three.

One.

One day he was walking out the doors of the Target Center and the next he was on stage. Under the spotlights … and then…

Feel IT. Feel IT. Feel IT. Feel IT. IT. IT. IT! IT! IT! IT! I-

Nathan pulls his knees closer to his chest - the tactile sense of his heart beating against his kneecaps causing him to breath a bit slower.

It was a trick his mother had taught him when he was five – after he had become too scared to climb down after scrambling his way up a huge retaining wall outside of their apartment. All he could do for hours was look down, afraid, but … when he pulled his knees in, it forced him to look forward. Ahead.

Except this time, his eyes quickly dart over to the door on the other end of the couch. His breath catches in his throat as he sees it cracked open ever so slightly – enough to see into the darkness on the other side. Where Sonja was. Where IT was.

They had arrived at the hotel maybe an hour ago. He didn't even let Sonja get through the door before lunging at the first light switch he could – then the next – then the next.

*Click*

*Click*

*Click*

He could feel her eyes as his body moved on its own. Hungry, rabid like an animal as he moved around the room.

To the entryway.

The bathroom.

Bedside lamps.

Light.

Light.

Light.

Still not enough.

Not enough.

Never enough.

Wait. What? Where was he again?

Sonja tried to say something… he could hear her, but couldn’t understand her. Her voice was different somehow. Like a stranger had taken over her body… just like Bl- just like IT.

Had it gotten to her, too?

Was it still here? Was he still here? Was he still there?

Eyes watching.

Not your eyes.

A shiver runs through Nathan’s body as he tries to pull his legs even closer as the rumbling hum in between his ears begins to throb again… he can feel IT. His heart. A pain in his chest like something trying to burst out from his arteries.

Give me emotion.

Give me anger.

Give me pain.

Give me more. 

GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE. GIVE.

*Click*

Nathan reaches over, swiping for the nearby remote, fumbling as he clicks the “Power” button as fast as he can and he hits a random series of numbers to find a channel, find anything to drown out the noise. He pushes the volume as high as he can and as fast as he can… and then… and then… and…

ANNNNNND HEEERRE’S YOUR HOST, DONNNNNNIE WINTERS!

A door opens.

The door opens.

And she is standing there.

IT is standing there.

YOUUUUUU BETCHA! SOMEWHERE IN THE PRESENT The snap crackle and popping of a warm toasty chimney fire.

The flames flickering and devouring the oxygen around, leaving a scent of burnt embers wafting in the breeze. Surrounding the fireplace is a large bookshelf, tall as the eye can see, organized in immaculate perfection to the specifications of a customized dewey decimal system of likes, genres, and authors. In the foreground, two dark suede leather chairs with a shared end table between them. A corn cob stove pipe sits on the table, its embers exhibiting smoke that dances with the chimney’s flame.

Sitting there in his finest three piece attire, wearing a monocle and a top hat, is none other than the D. He nods and smiles to the camera.

The D: Once upon a time, there was a demon, and he lived inside a man’s head. This man was constantly told to do things no ordinary man would do. The demon corrupted him, it controlled him, and it drove him.

The D smiles.

The D: And what if I told you that was the story of just about every man. If you look at the tomes of literature behind me, it’s filled with people plagued by their own hubris, and their own demons. Art imitates life imitates art, an ouroboros of fate intertwined.

Max Kael is like this.

Blaze Claymore is like this.

Even I can see myself succumbed to the foibles of man.

The D leans in and whispers to the camera.

The D: This is really good stuff. Did you use ChatGPT for this?

The camera shakes no, as we see a silhouette of a box head holding the camera filming.

The D: So, with that…

There’s a loud swing open of a door, and then an even louder clearing of one’s throat. A man in his 70’s, grey’d but with chiseled features, turns his nose up. His tweed is so oppressive and tight you can tell that it’s fused with the rod up this man’s ass. He shakes his head with disapproval.

Man: Son. Did I say you could use my study for this?

The D catches himself, looks wildly from side to side.

The D: Uh, No, in fact, I believe you emphatically told me, “If you catch me filming a vignette inside my study I will castrate you and make you watch a boar eat it.

The D’s Dad: So you remember but still disobey?

The D: Your threats are technically punishable by law, and I’ve got you recorded on camera.

The D’s dad walks over and looks directly into the camera held by Klein.

The D’s Dad: I’m surprised you’re still hanging around with my son Klein. I figured you might have better taste by now.

Klein shakes the camera “no,” which causes the D’s dad to sigh.

The D: Listen, you give us five more minutes and we’ll be a wrap Dad. Just, I dunno, get a sandwich or some chips and we’ll be done.

The D’s Dad: I thought I taught you better. What do I get out of this situation son? What’s my benefit to using my study? I’ve said time and time again, never go out of your way to help someone else unless you’re getting something out of it. They won’t help you when you need it. People are selfish. So, why put yourself out? Why should I help you?

The D: Cause I’m your kid and you love me?

The D’s Dad: You’re forty five or whatever…

The D: Forty.

The D’s Dad: You can’t be forty for your entire life Derek. Listen, I don’t care what you do, just don’t use my house or my study or my fireplace in your… whatever it is you do.

The D: It’s called pro-wrestling dad.

The D’s Dad: Yes. That barbaric ritual of yours. You could have studied. You could be so much more than you are.

The D: What, like you? Miserable and hated and just a curmudgeonly old coot without friends?

The D’s dad flicks the lights off to his study, leaving only the crackling fire as a light source.

The D’s Dad: Just, be out of here in ten minutes or I’m calling the cops.

With a loud slam, the D and Klein are left alone in the study. There’s an awkward moment of tension.

The D: See, my dad and I fundamentally disagree. I think we should help each other out, build each other up, work as a society. Dad worries about him and his. So here I am, trying to cut a promo to help Max and Blaze realize it’s okay to be a little nuts, to have desires and wants and pain that can’t be controlled but can be understood. And if I can’t tell them, I guess I’ll have to show them… C’mon Klein. Let’s get out of here. I know when we’re not wanted.  Let’s see if we can get a proper conversation outta Blaze, or, barring that, chat with Sonja about a replacement partner?

The D gets up from his father’s seat, waltzes over to a shelf of books, and starts pulling them off indiscriminately so they land with thuds on the floor. Once done, the D and Klein exit, camera fading with them. SOMEWHERE IN REAL TIME A massive, lumbering elephant moves through a field, its trunk swinging back and forth slowly like a metronome before letting out a whiny squeal as it stops to reach up and grab some low-hanging leaves to munch on.

Safely positioned behind a row of safety glass, a gaggle of onlookers take in the scene with one particularly precocious child wildly pointing.

Child: Mommy! It’s Babar!

Voice (whispering): Who the fuck is Babar?

Elise Ares, baseball cap carefully securing her hair to her head and hiding her face from the crowd, gazes toward her Pop Culture Phenoms partner with a genuine look of confusion.

The D is standing arms crossed and bundled in an oversized windbreaker with the hood pulled up. He stifles a yawn and gestures toward the docile mammal as it chews its leaves with the vigor of an old man gumming his morning oatmeal.

The D: It’s a kid’s character I think - a French elephant that tries colonising other elephants in Africa? Kind of a C-tier, really.

Elise Ares: Huh… a Vichy Elephant. Who knew?

The D: Hey now, what did Vicky ever do to you?

Elise glares at The D and pushes up her sunglasses as another voice pipes up.

Klein: Good thing it’s behind BA-BARS then, right?

Elise chuckles as The D grumbles under his breath.

Sonja: I guess that’s why they call it the animal kingdom and not the animal republic, am I right?

The trio all turn to look at Sonja Cuchilla, who is holding her phone up, recording. She quickly shoves the device into the pocket of her oversized hoodie and lowers her head.

Sonja Cuchilla: Sorry. Bad joke.

Elise sighs.

Elise Ares: The joke was actually pretty good-

Sonja looks up, eyes bright.

Elise Ares: -but-

Sonja winces.

Elise Ares: I thought the whole point of being here for our strategy session was to get lost in the crowd, not… call attention to ourselves. Which is totes driving me crazy right now. Isn’t that what you said Blaze needed to get ready for the match?

Sonja looks back over her shoulder, watching as Blaze slowly rocks back and forth on his heels, Indianapolis Colts hat covering his eyes.

Sonja Cuchila: Well… Blaze sometimes gets in his head. Ya know? He just keeps going on and on about ‘shadows this’ and ‘darkness that’ - really just best to let him ride this out. We’ll be- I mean he’ll be ready for the…

Sonja trails off as Elise and the D, who had been consoling his partner, look past her.

The D: That ain’t good…

Sonja turns, her jaw dropping, as she, PCP, and about three dozen other Indianapolis Zoo patrons are watching Blaze Claymore begin to climb over the glass barricade and into the elephant exhibit.

Klein: WOA-

Blaze’s ball cap flies off, dropping to his feet, causing several children to scream.

Young Girl: What’s wrong with his eyes!?

Young Boy: Is that…

The crowd watches in shock as Blaze pulls himself up onto the edge of the thick-cut glass, a thousand-foot stare framed by jet-colored tendril marks bleeding from his eyes.

Then, a split second later, he’s down on the cement pathway again, pulled back from the brink and onto his back by a winded The D.

Elise and Klein shove past Sonja, who has pulled her cell phone back out, as they go to check on Blaze and The D. Now everyone else also has their phones, recording live as Elise begins to pull The D to his feet and Klein is talking to a now-seemingly awake and terrified Blaze Claymore.

Sonja watches, a hint of a smile out of the corner of her lips which she forces back into a frown, as zoo staff arrive and establish a perimeter. As they do, Sonja leaps forward, letting out a moaning wail as she tries to push past the human blockade.

Sonja pushes her way past the zoo officials - but not towards Blaze, or the D, or Elise … instead she hits her mark. Dead center in front of dozens of cell phones pointed in her direction.

Sonja Cuchilla (sobbing): You see!? You see what that bastard Max Kael did to my Blaze? My reason for living? My FIRE!?

The crowd moves their phones away from the recovering Blaze and toward Sonja.

Sonja Cuchilla: I will NOT let him or his Ivy League pendejos get away with this! Yes, we are entertainers, but we are not animals to be caged and toyed with! We are human beings!

Elise and The D turn to each other, then toward the elephant in the pasture, and then toward Sonja, suddenly intrigued.

Sonja Cuchilla: And while they relax in their gated communities, hide away in their audacious mansions, and climb the ladder on the strength of their name rather than the depth of their talent … true geniuses. True artists like Elise, Derek, Klein, and-

…and Blaze…

A whisper of a thought in her brain, then it’s gone.

Sonja Cuchilla: AND ME! Sonja Cuchilla! We get tossed aside – left to burn and smolder in the ashes of their wake. But no longer! This weekend we won’t just beat Green Kael Gang, we will ASCEND to the top of the entertainment industry, all thanks… to you.

Sonja, holds her hands to her chest and bows graciously for the crowd while Blaze is being helped up by Klein. A hand on Sonja’s shoulder causes the woman to turn around and lock eyes with Elise Ares, who gestures over toward Blaze and then to the zoo staff.

Elise Ares: I think we have some questions that need answering. SOMEWHERE LATER The sun has gone down on the city of Indianapolis as an exhausted Elise Ares and The D begin to walk through the exit of the Indianapolis Zoo. Elise lets out an exasperated sigh as she kicks at the ground.

Elise Ares: What a joke. Three hours of questioning!? He didn’t even DO anything. And now we’ve lost a whole day of strategizing... and/or drinking!

The D mumbles something under his breath, but Elise elbows him in the ribs.

The D: Ow! Bruv what?

Elise Ares: For keeping secrets. What did you say?

The D stops and closes his eyes, sighing.

The D: I say lots of things. But in this case, I’m not sure strategizing would have helped. We can’t trust Blaze to stick to a script - and that’s one of the few things he seemed to actually be decent at!

Elise Ares: So what do you suggest? Get Klein to do all the work for us instead as our third?

The D lowers his head.

The D: Klein… well, he’s not all there either.

Pan to Klein, leaning down near a garbage can. There’s a small box, and he seems to be conversing with it.

Elise stops, looking out toward the parking lot facing Lucas Oil Stadium. The lights of the sports complex are quiet - the hometown hero Colts on break until the start of the regular season. The building looms large - like the obelisk from 2001: A Space Odyssey - staring back at the Pop Culture Phenoms.

Elise Ares: We still have some time. Let’s… give Blaze some space. If push comes to shove, I think we know what we need to do.

The D: Drink?

The words tumble out of his mouth like a reflex before he can even stop them. Elise winks at her partner, who cautiously winks back as the pair continue their trek out the gates of the zoo. Moments later they are followed by Blaze Claymore and Sonja Cuchilla, who is power walking in high heels as fast as she can to escape - from the zoo, from Blaze? Perhaps both.

Blaze Claymore: Sonja.

That voice. Not Nathan’s voice. Blaze’s voice.. It cut like a scalpel. Enough to make Sonja pause and turn her head, cautiously. But as she looks, all she sees is Nathan, standing  under a flickering street light, seemingly unable to move past the perimeter illuminated under his feet.

Sonja lets out an exasperated sigh and walks over, grabbing at his wrist. He doesn’t resist.

Nathan.

Sonja Cuchilla: Nathan! We need to go! Stop this “woe is me” act. It is tired and so am I!

Nathan yanks his hand backwards instinctively, causing Sonja to flinch.

Blaze?

He reaches out to hold Sonja’s hands in his own, causing her to recoil and step out of the halo of light.

The two stare at each other in silence for several seconds before Sonja throws up her hands and lets out an exasperated sigh, turning her back on Blaze and continuing into the parking lot. Sonja Cuchilla: Fine! Stay here all night then, see if I care!

Sonja curses under her breath as she slowly bleeds into the darkness as the figure in the light watches, trembling, until a hand lands softly on his shoulder and he hears the voice of the Pop Culture Phenom’s manager and producer.

Klein: It’s time we had a talk.

He turns, breath catching in his throat as he sees something smiling at him, perched just above Klein’s shoulder.