The camera moves across the tiled floor, and surveys the quintessentially Mediterranean-style décor in the room, before focusing on the king-sized bed before it. Lying out beneath the covers on one side of the bed, is Vanessa Lang, her vibrant red hair cascading down one side of her flank, while on the other, an outstretched arm reaches across to the other side of the bed…
A side of the bed that has had the covers thrown back, although it is still warm to the touch.
A sound of what can only be mild confusion, forced as it is through her half-awake mind, escapes Vanessa’s lips, as her head rises from the pillow, and her eyes flutter open. Blinking twice to allow her eyes to adjust to the light, she’s in time to see Hans von Richtoven step into the room from the en-suite bathroom; attired in Adidas black running shorts, white sleeve-less t-shirt, and a pair of white with silver trim and red piping running shoes.
He smiles down at her, and she responds in kind, allowing her head to hit the pillow.
(Hans): I’m away for a run. I won’t be long, ok?
(Vanessa): *Sleepily* Uh-huh…
Chuckling, he leans in across the bed, and kisses her on the cheek, before pulling the covers from his side of the bed back up to the correct position. Grabbing his Maui Jim shades from the sidetable, and a watch for his wrist, he makes his way out of the room, as Vanessa rolls over, to watch him leave.
(Hans): Go back to bed honey. I’ll get breakfast for us on the way back.
Smiling at one another, as Hans leaves the room, Vanessa blows him a kiss, before rolling over, and stretching out across both her, and Hans’ side of the bed with a content sound escaping her lips.
The scene fades out momentarily, before resuming with a series of clips of Hans making his way around the picturesque island of Capri. Down from the villa on the outskirts of Anacapri, down the winding paths to overlooking the Grotto Azzura, and back around, passing this time through the Villa San Michele; it’s terraced flower gardens not yet full of tourists at this time of the morning. He passes the funicular railway, treading the winding road that leads between Anacapri at the peak of the island, down to Capri itself at the bottom; the two marina’s on either side of the town.
Eventually, he comes to a halt in the Piazetta, and takes a breather, taking the chance to grab an ice cold bottle of water from a street vendor, and downing it in one. Finding himself starting at the sights before him, the scene fades out once more, to resume now on him making his way out of one of the small track cabs of the funicular, a large paper bag, folded neatly over at the top, grasped in his left hand; the contents of his and Vanessa’s breakfast clearly contained within, while in his right, is another bottle of water; this time only half-empty.
Eyeing the camera, he takes a slow intake, and then exhalation of breath, and glances up at the path before him. Deciding that there’s enough time, he slows his pace, and allows the camera to fall in with him, side-on.
(Hans): So, it’s the ‘Angelic Enigma’ now is it Ronnie? Really? Angelic? You?
He throws a glance sideways at the camera, his eyes visible over the shades, the pointed tone in his voice evident.
(Hans): Fair enough. What title or name you anoint yourself with is really none of my concern. Ultimately, your actions, past, present, and certainly future, put paid to that, pardon the pun, taking flight.
Flicking the flip-cap off his bottle of water, he takes a swig, before recapping it, and dropping it back down to his side.
(Hans): You talk of expunging your feelings on me Ronnie, battering me down in the steel cage at “Blood, Sweat & Tears” like no more than a glorified punching bag. I’ve got to ask, would you be so gleeful about this were it anyone else? You always seem to have this… this, malice, when you refer to me.
He shrugs his shoulders, and once more, glances sideways at the camera.
(Hans): What can I say? I’m curious.
Turning left down the street; lined as it is with stepped flower gardens on one side, and the other; cafes, he focuses his attention on the route before him, side stepping several passers-by, before returning to his words.
(Hans): At anyrate, thank you for stating the obvious; this isn’t the time that I’d have chosen to have my rematch, and yes, there is a lot going on in both our lives. However, with yours, I’d say it’s, shall we say… comeuppance, for the way you’ve acted over the past year or so Ronnie. While I’d never condone violence to anyone’s spouse… in any way, shape, or form, when it comes to you yourself, frankly, now you know how it feels to be on the opposite end of things. In certain respects, I can’t help but feel that it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy…
So consider me ‘gone’ from the World title scene at your declaration Ronnie; but the fact is, the decision has been made long before it even reached your ears, and it’s nothing more than bolting the stable shut after the horses have bolted loose. I’ll put on a show. I’ll put on one hell of a show. Facing you for the ‘greatest’ prize in wrestling is all good and well, but what I’m setting out to do tonight is more important. Letting Vanessa share my life with me, is more important that giving you my full attention. A man who left his respect for human dignity and compassion aside in the pursuit of what is meant to represent the pinnacle of sporting achievement.
And for what? It’s not the title. It’s so that Senester can go about his games uninterrupted.
He shakes his head, and walks off-screen as he comes up to the villa, as the scene fades out to commercial.
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