Kyung Chen paces anxiously back and forth across against the small four by eight holding cell, his new home away from home. He didn't exactly like the arrangements. A small table jutted out of a wall, the supposed bed he would sleeping on. The commode was in the far corner, unused. The messy ordeal plays back in his mind. A routine search turned into an argument that led to resisting arrest and being slammed into the patrol car and read his rights before being hauled into a waiting patrol car. The chatter from the dispatcher coming from the walkie talkie, sliding across the backseat after every hair pin turn. Being led into the station like a blind man. For the last half four, he awaited for a sign, any sign of whether he get out of his prison.
A prison guard enters the room carrying a checklist. He read something off it then looks in his direction.
“Hey, wise guy. It's your turn.”
Kyung Chen stops pacing and turns to the officer.
“How much time do I get?”
“Five minutes.”
The scene opens on a nightstand and the camera slowly zooms in on a digital alarm clock, which reads 2:00 AM. Slowly pan over to Mercedes in bed sleeping soundly with a eye cover over her face. The phone rings. Twice. Four times. Five times. By the sixth ring, there is an annoyed groan and she finally stirs and sits up, peeling the mask off. She throws off the covers, and slips into her slippers and enters the living room to answer the phone.
Mercedes: Hello? Did you wake me? No, Ms. Chen. I was doing research on whether the Zulu tribes in Africa marry or not. You only thought I was sleeping.
Mercedes pulls the phone away from her ear and looks up, mouthing the words “This never happens in Rent.” before bringing the phone to her ear again. Still half-asleep, she tunes out her neighbor until her eyes gets big.
Mercedes: You want me to what? No way! I've got to catch a flight to Reno and - Why me? Can’t it wait until sunlight? But it's two in the morning!
She stamps her feet and screams silently.
Mercedes: Alright, alright, I'll be right down.
Mercedes slams down the phone. Turning away, she rakes a hand through her hair and lets out a sigh.
Mercedes: Damn.
The scene fades out as Mercedes heads back to bed.
• • •
A Porsche 911 streaks by. We see Ms. Chen in the passenger seat and Mercedes is driving. Ms. Chen, a middle age Korean woman, is wearing hair curlers in place.
Ms. Chen: Thanks for doing this, Mercedes. I didn't have anyone else to turn to. You were the first person I had to call.
Mercedes ignores her, focusing directly on the abandoned street at this early morning. Keeping her eyes open was a necessity, especially now that she had a passenger along with her. She turns on the windshield pipers as a light rain begins.
Ms. Chen: He's a good kid, just that he always gets into trouble.
Mercedes answers dryly.
Mercedes: I would never have guessed.
Mercedes shifts the car into second gear then glances across at her, taking her eyes off the road.
Mercedes: Seatbelts.
Ms. Chen nods in understanding as she fumbles with her seatbelt and snaps it into place. Mercedes guides her white Porsche heading east on Northern Boulevard passing Gordon Playground on the left before taking a left on 85th street and makes another left onto Astoria Boulevard.
Ms. Chen: I told him to stay off the streets, but does he listen to me? No, he doesn't. He does whatever the hell he wants with no regards to consequences and -
Mercedes: The things I do to sacrifice my waking hours. Now where is he again?
Ms. Chen: I didn't get all of it, but I think he's in Brooklyn.
Ms. Chen produces a piece of paper. She squints trying to read the scribbled handwriting in the darkness. Mercedes turns on the interior light.
Ms. Chen: DMC – Brooklyn. You know where that is?
Mercedes: That's MDC – Brooklyn. And yes, I know exactly where that is.
A quarter mile down, she merges onto I-278 going west and begins the long trek down.
• • •
A brisk prison warden leads Ms. Chen and Mercedes down the winding corridor of the Metropolitan Detention Center. A cold, damp odor overtakes them, a mixture of mothballs and formaldehyde. When they turn the corner, they enter an open door that leads into the jail. The warden jingles a set of keys as he walks towards the jail cell. When Ms. Chen notices her son, she folds her arms in font of her with a stern expression on her face.
Kyoung walks up to her with his arms open out wide, but his arms goes limp the moment his mother turns away from him.
Kyoung: Did you seriously come see me looking like that?
Ms. Chen: Why should you care what I look like? I'm here, and that's all that matters.
Kyung: Will you look at me? Mom, I'm so -
Ms. Chen: Not not another word. Your apologies means nothing.
She turns around, meeting his steel gaze.
Ms. Chen: You have brought disgrace to your family, and to me. When your father gets word of this, he will very displeased.
Ms. Chen slaps her son upside the head.
Kyung: Ow!
And then he receives a second slap upside the head by Mercedes.
Kyung: Ow!
Kyung and Ms. Chen both stare at Mercedes.
Mercedes: Sorry, involuntary reaction.
Fade.
• • •
It's about that time again. It's the World Cup, and in honor of this time-honored tradition, we find Mercedes Vargas sitting on the stairwell of her apartment complex wearing a Lionel Messi jersey, although her native Argentina won't be playing until Sunday. Nevertheless, she is not in the celebratory mood as she looks into the camera.
"Mercedes Vargas versus Amy Marshall versus Jessie Salco. Can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture? Anyone? No one? How about you, sir? No one wants to volunteer, that's fine. I'll tell you what's wrong with this picture. This match is a complete waste of my time. Amy knows this, Jessie knows this, and more importantly, SCW know this. I'm better than this, okay. SCW could have save themselves a match on the card by just handing me the number one contendership, but seeing as we live in a world where you have to earn your keep, if it takes beating the two of you and making you both look silly, then I guess that's what I'll have to do at Climax Control 85 in Reno. Now, I don't always go to Nevada, but when I do, it's usually to Las Vegas or any other city. Believe it or not, Nevada is no stranger. I've been here more times then I can count."
Mercedes begins to count on her fingers.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5...."
After counting on her other hand, she looks up sheepishly at the camera.
"Yeah, I'm going to need to sit down for this one."
Balancing on one foot, she sits down and removes her sneakers and starting counting on her toes. When she gets to her pinky she looks up at the camera.
"15. 15 times I've visited the state of Nevada, 13 of those visits were to Las Vegas alone, then Laughlin and Primm, but I'm looking forward to visit number sixteen in Reno...
She touches her big toe then looks up at the camera.
"So what do you say when you don't have anything left to say? Amy, this rivalry between us has spanned many companies, it has included many stipulations. SCW got to see first hand just how far we were willing to fight over the Bombshell Roulette Championship, and I guess you can say we're coming full circle, because Sunday we're fighting over who gets to face Emma Rose. There is only one problem - well, two, if you want to count Jessie Salco - the only thing standing between you and that title shot, is me. And I know how this song goes..."
Begins mocking Amy in a sarcastic voice.
"Mercedes, I know what you're going to do, I know what you're going to say. You're predictable. And blah-de-blah-de-blah-de-blah-de-BLAH!!!”
She pauses and tilts her head to one side, as if contemplating her last thought.
"Am I right? Sorta? Kinda? Maybe?”
She shrugs while shaking her head.
"Now, what wasn't predictable was what went down at the pay-per-view? Am I disappointed about what happened? Well, yes and no. Joanne Canelli may have pinned me, but in the end, did she walk out of Chaos in Cape Town wearing a title around her waist? No. What she did leave with however is her wounded pride, a second loss to Emma for the title, and a paycheck. Hey, it's better than nothing, right? But now one of us gets the chance to succeed where Jojo failed. And, honestly, out of the three of us, I think we all know is going to be.”
Mercedes stretches as she shifts her seat.
"I'll be honest, I'm kind of torn. On the one hand, this match couldn't had come a worst time for you or Jessie, because let's face it, since I've crossed off your names on my checklist more than once, pretty soon this staring to become pretty boring. And as we all know, all work and no play makes a dull Argentine Assassin, and we wouldn't want that now, would we? With Friday the 13th and my lovely Argentina about to embarrass Bosnia and Herzegovina on Sunday, I think this weekend is going to turn out pretty well, don't you?”
Fade.
