Slowly, the scene faded in to a darkly lit room. Lights were on in the distant hall, but the room in view was void of any such light. Only shadows and glimpses of shapes could be made out.
Outside, the dull moonlight shown through, bleakly, into the small apartment. The shades were closed, but the moon always had it's way of finding it's way around things such as that.
Softly, from the room's corner, a voice began to speak. A voice, as of someone speaking aloud to theirself, forcing theirself to believe something. To proove it is not merely a thought inside of their head.
"She's back. She came back. Not just for Havoc . . . she was there for me, too. She came back."
A light flickered against the bottom of the far wall. A dim glow was cast onto what was then evident of being a living room. A couch, setup in front of the TV. A coffee table, set off to the side of the couch. And a person, sitting against the side of the couch, his knee propped slightly against the table.
Dressed in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of long shorts, the dark eyes and numerous facial piercings told you who the man was. He was Zero, just coming off the inpromptu matchup against Havoc at Showtime.
Slowly, he raised a picture back up into his view. Staring obliquely, almost as in a state of non-belief, he repeated the words.
"She's back. She came back. But, there was a difference, a change, since the last time we had encountered each other."
The picture was the same as the one he had used to keep in his Blazier, nestled against the speedometer. The same picture that had been trampled on once when his Blazier had been broken into. The same picture he had unknowingly took off with him to Grand Cayman. And, it was the same picture which had given him the unexpected surprise when he had been unloading his travel bag. It was the picture of Karen --smiling, laughing, the expression she had as he had taken the picture many months ago-- that he held in his hand.
"If only you could of seen the look in her eyes. I know something is different. I saw a change in her. Not the same look as she had months ago, but there was definately a difference. Did you see the show? Do you know what I am talking about?"
Slowly, from out of the kitchen, Matt, Zero's neighbor and the closest thing Zero could refer to as a friend, walked out. The steam of his hot chocolate was bubbling up, as he tried to make his way onto the couch without spilling any, and in the process, without burning himself.
"I saw it. I was surprised. But man, I don't know. I could see something in the way she had helped you to your feet. But man, I also seen the look in Havoc's eyes, the way he wanted to step into the middle of it. He hated it. He would of continued to beat on you if she . . . "
Matt
Zero cut him off.
"If she hadn't of stopped him. I know. But, she did. She did, as he looked on. As she came to where I was, almost keeping her place inbetween Havoc and I. And that was something she would of never done just two months ago. She would of done all she could to just get another chair shot in on me. The hate for me was boiling in her eyes. I knew it, and I could see it. But . . . I saw something different at Showtime."
Zero
Matt took a sip of his hot chocolate, the steam sparking a grimace on his face as he quickly swallowed the burning fluid. Releasing a sigh, he looked over to Zero. Zero, sitting in confusion. Sitting, contemplating the new hand of cards he had been delivered. What was to come of it? Was it too early to know at all? Matt knew Zero wasn't sure, but was Matt even sure he could he knew what to say to Zero?
"Man, when you asked for someone to talk to, I came over. I should of known I wouldn't be able to make any sense of something. You're the one who can always see through things, and analyis something beyond belief. I guess maybe I just serve as the rubber wall."
Matt
Zero looked over towards Matt. A rarely seen expression crossed Zero's face. What was Matt talking about?
"A rubber wall?"
Zero
Quickly swallowing another sip of his hot chocolate (which was slowly starting to cool down), Matt tried to explain himself.
"Like, something that everything just bounces off of. You say things to me, and I try to make sense of them. But I don't have a shot. I'm just some skater-kid from Berkeley. So, in an essense, what's really happening is, what you are saying is coming right back at you, and you see them again. It probably helps for you to understand things. That's what I think I meant . . . i think."
Matt
Zero took another glance back down at the picture. Karen, staring back at him, as she always had when he stole a quick glance at the picture. And slowly, the image in the picture, transformed in his mind, into the image of her, standing, caringly, over him in the corner, trying to help him yo his feet.
Slowly, the picture and his memory of Showtime fused together. The Karen in the picture was the woman he had once met in a club off of Gilman Street. The Karen which had helped him up at Showtime, wasn't the Karen who had hit him with the unexpected chair shot many months ago. She was a new Karen. And somehow . . . very similar to the Karen he had loved (loves?), this new Karen seemed very similar. Zero thought hard.
Suddenly, Matt spoke up, breaking Zero's line of thought.
"What did she say to you?"
Matt
Zero took his what had now become a stare, off of the picture, and tilted his head up, looking over at Matt. A non-direct expression was across Zero's face. He wasn't sure how to respond. What could he say? Did he even believe the words himself? He had repeated what she had said to him. He had done it numerous times since she had said them. Was that his Karen he had talked to in the ring?
"I'm not sure. I've repeated what she had said so many times to myself, that I am no longer certain if what I think she said, is actually what she really said."
Zero
Sitting his hot chocolate down onto the coffee table, Matt opened his mouth in response. But quickly, his head twisting off into the dark corner across from him in his living room, Zero added . . .
"But I'll find out soon . . . "
Zero
The words Matt had planned to say, suddenly rested in his throat. They were too heavy to bring out now. Instead, Matt simply laid back onto the couch, staring off into the ceiling, just as Zero was.
They sat there, no words spoken to each other. Sat; thinking. As, slowly . . . the scene faded to black.
midi: "Infected" by Bad Religion
