The scene opens in a crummy looking diner in the middle of nowhere. The camera pans over its interior, revealing it to be nearly barren within, aside from a few waitresses and a man sitting at the counter reading a newspaper. However, once the full image has been revealed, one more figure is seen; his hair wild and unkempt, skin coated in a layer of grime and dirt. This man, generously pouring syrup on his waffles, is Wanderin' Will Beckenhall. In the window behind him, it appears to night.
WILL: "So, they've got me doing this See-Dubya-Eff show. "Evolution," they call it. It's quite a leg up for me, wouldn't ya say?"
He glares slyly at one of the waitresses as she loudly chews gum, overstretching her mouth with each movement.
WAITRESS: "William, is that why you had to bring some cameraman in here? So you could use our diner for some free filming space?"
WILL: "By no means! I want this place to be as successful as possible, so o'course I'll give it some attention in a promo for a big company like CWF. Customer loyalty, you know?"
The woman rolls her eyes, quickly resigning herself to the back. Will chuckles lightly, scratching his nose before he takes a big bite of his waffles, syrup dripping down his fingers. With little to no regard for societal customs, he begins to speak.
WILL: "You know, folks don't appreciate much anymore? Can't have a good cup o' joe or a greasy slice of bacon without someone tryin' to remind you that you won't be around forever. It just seems that's how times are now."
William sighs, wiping a napkin against his face, doing a haphazard job at cleaning his chin properly.
WILL: "But I guess that's the crux of it, right? That's why we play these little games with each other. Why we want so badly to legitimize ourselves in the vision of our peers. Because we ain't staying around forever. Hell, our strength is more temporary than any of us want to admit, but that's livin'. So, we march onward to plant our flag in the soil, to remind folk that we were here at one point. Then, I suppose we never have to truly leave this mortal realm, just toss the body behind."
With a snide smile, William looks straight into the camera, cocking an eye.
WILL: "That's why it's fitting that you and I face off, Hoyt. Why we gotta have Beckenhall Vs. Williams. Well, I suppose that's fairly inaccurate. You found somethin' else and you've grown accustomed to it. Kyuseishu, they call ya'. See, you've got this learned perception of the endpoint of human living and I love to question every last tenet of every belief. You waltz back to the CWF, stride high, coming to denounce the lifestyles of others so you can spin a carefully woven fairytale of yours. The only thing you'll save, buster, is the interests of those already running the system. You wanna do something to save some folk? Go to a soup kitchen and grab a ladel!"
Beckenhall shakes his head, pulling a lighter and cigarette out of his pocket, quickly getting the cigarette lit and pressing it to his lips.
WILL: "And it's such a damn shame, really. Cuz' you got good intentions, golden ones even, heh, but you're pushing your place as a legend to further suffering, not end any of it. But it's to be expected from the big guys; from those who run the game. To step on us at the bottom, to tell us how we're drenched in sin."*pause* "Well, I'm no holyman, but you can consider me a prophet for a short while because I can see your future written as plainly as I can see a blue sky on a clear day and it doesn't bode well for you, buddy."
Will signals for more coffee and a waitress abides. As she pours, he continues.
WILL: "In your future is a crisis of faith, my friend. A devastating blow to your modus operandi. At Evolution I plan to make one helluva of a first impression with the CWF crowd so they can get a good read on me coming into Golden Intentions. I want em' to have a feel for a guy with more personality than Dan Ryan and a better attitude than Duce Jones. I want em' to see what a real champ does and how he's gotta act. *looks to the waitress* Thank ya, m'am. Now, where was I? Right, right. A champion, something I already am, Huyt. Maybe not of this company, but of the people. I see their struggles and their pain and all that godawful persecution fellas like you are so keen to drop em' into. And wjen ya act so holier than thou, you lose their trust and turn your back on them. They deserve better than a guy like you. Besides, I'm good with my place in the universe and I don't need a higher power to cement my good will or my plans. I don't prey or act on behalf of another being. I do what I want because I know I'm free to. That's something your devout nature can never score you, don't you think?"
William returns to eating, staying silent as he does. The man sitting at the counter places his paper down.
THE MAN WITH THE NEWSPAPER: "So, what's your point?"
WILL: "That Kyuseishu may have honor and holiness, but he sure as hell ain't free as me. And that's why I'm gonna make an impact by sending him to the ground."
THE MAN WITH THE NEWSPAPER: "Is that it?"
WILL: "Of course not. MISS!*he smacks the table* COULD I GET SOME MORE SYRUP?"
The picture cuts to black.