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SpineTwister · **01-19-2015, 06:51 AM**

I. BREAKING…

London, England. A warehouse on the Thames, in one of the rougher waterfront neighborhoods.

"You're #2 now."

SIMON LYSTER, “THE SPINE TWISTER” addresses his valet, SUBMISSIVE #3. She is facing away from him.

She doesn't acknowledge the statement.

"You're. #2. Now."

SUBMISSIVE #3 turns. Her face is haggard, eyes rimmed with black circles. "What?"

Then, upon seeing who it is:

"I mean--as it pleases the Master--I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She drops to her knees, head bowed.

"Rise." LYSTER beckons her up.

"We're getting a new #3. You're #2 now. A promotion. One step up the totem pole. Someone for you to dominate."

"I..." SUBMISSIVE #3 has a haunted look in her eyes.

"Aren't you happy?" LYSTER closes in on her. "You don't look happy. Is something wrong?" She turns her head away. "Is something troubling you? Something you'd like to talk about?"

"No." SUBMISSIVE #3, now SUBMISSIVE #2, creases her face into a ghastly rictus of a smile. "Very happy. Happy that my service pleases the Master."

"Good. You get all of #2's gear in addition to your own. Be a pretty little pilot fish, feeding on the scraps from the shark's kill."

"As it pleases the Master."

"You'll have extra duties today. The GIMPS are down at the Royal London Hospital being treated for their injuries, all on the public dole. Socialism is wonderful when I'm not paying for it.

"Speaking of which... you did move the Ministry revenue to the Zurich account and call our friends in Japan, on the encrypted line, about money laundering?"

SUBMISSIVE #2 gasps, places a hand to mouth. "I... I'm sorry... I forgot... as it pleases--"

"No, #2. The Master is not pleased. You slipped, #2. The old #2 was slipping too much. So she had to take a nasty fall.

"Be careful where and how you walk.

"And file this." LYSTER hands SUBMISSIVE #2 an X-ray: a woman's, the spine grotesquely distended, every vertebra shattered. The image covered in crusty stains.

II. BREAKING…

From the central fetish-parlor area of Room 101, flanked by SUBMISSIVES #1 and #2, LYSTER addresses the XWF’s live feed.

“Haven’t seen my opponent about. Perhaps he’s working his way through a quarter bag of La Curandera.

“Like they say in HOLLYWOOD, though: Show must go on.

“I indulged your pretentions, Mr. HOLLYWOOD. Perhaps you’ll grant me the same courtesy.

“One of your statements to me, in retrospect, I find particularly annoying: ‘Go fetch my stars.’

“Always comes back to the stars.

“It’s a metaphor overused to the point of banality. Superstar. XWF star. Star power. Star light, star bright, shining star.

“I’m going to guess that you weren’t born with the name ‘Hollywood.’ That you chose it. Hollywood, Walk of Fame, all the stars on the sidewalk.

“Stardom: Significant to you, no matter what ‘I’m just a working-class hero from Manyuk, Pennsylvania’ airs you put on. You’re on record as intending to ignite your stardom by making me your trophy kill, by breaking me in my chosen match.

“Be careful what you wish for.

“Do you know what happens to stars, Mr. HOLLYWOOD?

“I do. Double majored in physics at Cambridge.

“Studied under Stephen Hawking, in fact. I confess, given my… peculiarities, the fact that he was in a wheelchair played a part in that.

“Physics as it’s practiced today is founded on numerous fundamental principles. I have a favorite:

“The Second Law of Thermodynamics. It runs as follows:

“ ‘In a natural thermodynamic process, the sum of the entropies of the participating thermodynamic systems increases.’

“That’s a little much for a wrestling promo on a wrestling show, so let me summarize very succinctly:

[closeup on LYSTER’s face as he pauses, then speaks slowly]

“STARS DIE.

“Squeezed out in a grip even stronger and more inescapable than my own.

“Entropy, Mr. HOLLYWOOD. Simple heat death. The end of us all.

“Stars, like vertebrae, break in their own ways. Some pop into supernovas. Some fizzle into embers. Some collapse into black holes.

“The fate of all stars, though, in the end, is to…”

SUBMISSIVE #1: “Submit.”

SUBMISSIVE #2 [slight hesitation, slight pause]: “Su—submit.”

SUBMISSIVES #1 and #2 [ritual chant, continues, Manson Girl style, for remainder of promo]: “Submit… submit…”

SUBMISSIVE #2’s contribution is, and remains, very, very slightly off rhythm, unfocused.

“So I don’t put much stock in stars, Mr. HOLLYWOOD. Stars, like opponents, like titles, come and go. I take my inspiration from the cold dark void between.

“That locks down the stars. That snuffs their flame. That darkens their light. That stills their motion.

“In the end, you see, the entire universe ends up in the Paralyzer.

“When creation goes down for the final three-count, when all is atomic drift at absolute zero, when space and time…”

LYSTER pauses here, extends a hand, begins closing it into a fist.

“…fold back in the last big crunch to start the broken cycle anew….

“I’ll be there.

“Well, not me personally. Like you, like this federation, like all the rest, I’ll be long dead, disintegrated, forgotten.

“But there’ll be something. Some crawling thing evolved and then devolved from whatever Simon Lysters come after me to break the men of a billion worlds.

“It’ll look out on the ruin of your stars and it’ll say, in whatever passes for language in the cold dead graveyard at the end of time:

“ ‘You broke.

“ ‘Like all the rest.’ “

LYSTER shrugs.

“I’m not that patient, though. So, at Turning Point, your big crunch comes a few trillion years early.”

SUBMISSIVES [both]: “Submit…”

SUBMISSIVE #1: “Submit…”

SUBMISSIVE #2: “Su—submit…?”

SUBMISSIVES [both]: “Submit.”

III. BROKEN

LYSTER has business in the city.

SUBMISSIVE #2 listens for LYSTER's footsteps up the stairs, out the compound door.

Waits about a minute, maybe two.

Then falls to her knees, sobs tearing their way out of her throat.

She tries to remain as quiet as possible, but she hears a noise at the door. The click of crutches.

SUBMISSIVE #1 enters, crouches down, calms SUBMISSIVE #2 with a reassuring touch on the shoulder.

SUBMISSIVE #1: "It's OK, luv. You just have yourself a good cry."

SUBMISSIVE #2: "I can't--I can't take it--please don't tell--it wasn't supposed to be like this. All these injuries--I'm tired of everyone hurting all the time--and now with Sarah--I mean #2, I mean #2, please don't tell I used the other name--it was supposed to be a family...."

SUBMISSIVE #1: "Well, you know, luv, it's like in that Anna Kar... Karamazov book: All happy families are alike. Every unhappy family is different in its own way, innit?"

SUBMISSIVE #2 [sniffs, wipes eyes]: "Didn't know you fancied books."

SUBMISSIVE #1: "Oh, no, not me, luv. The Master told me that. He's edumicated and all." [slides over, hugs SUBMISSIVE #2] "The Master has his ways, but he knows best. Soon he'll win his match and we'll have a new #3 and we'll be a perfectly unhappy family again! You'll see!"

SUBMISSIVE #2: "It's just... I like being dominated, especially by the Master. It's my place to crawl. But is it quite necessary to have all this pain...?"

SUBMISSIVE #1: "You know what the Master says about pain:

BOTH SUBMISSIVES, chanting: "Pain cultivates strength. Strength dominates flesh. Flesh allows leverage. Leverage inflicts pain. Strength, flesh, leverage, pain: The building blocks of Discipline."

Pause, then:

SUBMISSIVE #2: "Not to contradict the Master, but: Does that even mean anything? It sounds like... I dunno, Scientology, innit?"

SUBMISSIVE #1: "I dunno, luv. All I've got's my cosmetology license. Well, carry on, then. Cheer up, #3... I mean #2. Things will be better soon."

SUBMISSIVE #2: "Thanks for being here..."

SUBMISSIVE #1 smiles, kisses SUBMISSIVE #2 on the cheek, pushes herself up on her crutches to resume her duties.

SUBMISSIVE #2 waits until SUBMISSIVE #1 is out of the room and away, then says:

SUBMISSIVE #2: "...Janice."

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