We open to a overhead shot of NYC. The camera slowly descends, passing skyscrapers and assorted buildings and hotels. It is closing in on a bar in the seedy district
of 125th street, home of trouble many would say. The broken bottles and gum wrappers litter the streets where people walk about their ways, always looking over their shoulders.
There is a pulse here, one that reeks of violence and murder. Tonight will hardly be any different. The bar is Sammy's a ratty place where locals, those looking for trouble,
often come to catch up on the word buzzing in the streets. Here, a man can order a drink and if he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut, might be lucky enough to finish it.
Law enforcement turns a blind eye to Sammy's, leaving the joint to pretty much police its own. Sammy, the bar owner, chooses to remain neutral to the ongoing fights that occur frequently in his place,
but should someone find themselves in need of the bar owner's real attention, one only needs to look just above the bar's mirror. There, they will see Sammy's back up, a Russian made AK-47, and if
you think that's something, understand that Sammy has another one just like it behind the bar, loaded with a banana clip, and, as you might suspect, the safety is always off.
Outside of the bar, is a parking lot of sorts. Once paved, it has now turned to dirt. But this doesn't stop the many thugs, drug dealers and assorted riff raff from driving up in their seventy thousand
dollar Lexus with another fifteen thousand in designer wheels from parking here. On any given Friday night you'd think the place was giving out $100 bills. Saturdays were worst, the boys always
came with their pistols neatly tucked in the front of their jeans, which always hung too damn low. You often wondered how they expected to run fast in those pants, but then you had to remind
yourself they had no intentions of running at all, maybe that's what the guns were for.
On this Friday night just after Labor day, a man walked in to Sammy's bar dressed like something out of a movie. Marvin Gaye was singing Got to give it up on the speakers as the man walked
in and sat at the only empty bar seat. He was wearing some kind of shiny outfit that looked to be made of metal. It shined like chrome and there was a long sword that seemed strapped
to his back. It was hard to make out his face, because he was wearing this helmet of chrome, like those worn in those gallant knight movies.
He looked like he weighted about 700 pounds with all that chrome and everyone in the bar stopped and looked on. Tima Hudson walked over and turned down
the music, never once taking her eyes off the stranger. There was silence now, a few coughs but nothing more. Sammy himself had cautiously walked over to where the man now sat, reminding himself
to stay near his peace maker. It was Dillon Epps who many called "Peanut" because of the shape of his head, who broke the silence. "Damn Sammy," he said, "what the fuck we got here, they shooting that
Gladiator II movie in the Bronx?" Sammy turned to Peanut and the look he gave said shut the fuck up, let me sort this out.
As Sammy walked closer, he could see the man was a warrior of some kind. The full body armor despite is shiny appearance was worn, there were scratches from what must have been
claws or swords. But it was those eyes that told the tale. Deep blue they were, and deadly. "What can I do you for?" Sammy asked. His left leg was shaking just a bit, a nervous tick he
had picked up years ago. The stranger never took his eyes off Sammy, even when he asked for bourbon.
From the stranger's right side came another voice. It was Darren Smith aka Snooky. "So whats up here partner?" he asked, "you miss your ride to 42 second street and shit, ain't no Broadway in the
Bronx man, you'd done fucked up. Come in here looking like a clown and shit, take off that fucking mask, or I'll have to remove it with you head in it!" There were a few
sighs coming from the tables behind, but the stranger paid no attention to them. He was busy watching the one called Snooky's hands. Most men will flinch before drawing a
weapon, men like Snooky here were no different. The stranger looked up at Snooky and straight into his eyes, what he saw there was fear masked with anger and the need to prove himself.
"I don't want any trouble here," he said. "I only want a drink and perhaps some information and I'll be on my way." Snooky was still standing but had backed up a few steps, there were beads
of sweat forming on his face. "Well," said Sammy, who had made his way towards his friend Mr. AK, "seems you got your drink, now about that information, what might a man dressed in
that outfit like that want from a place like this? This isn't City Hall you know?" "Damn straight it ain't!" said Snooky who had gathered some of his nerve back and was facing the stranger, showing his
.9 mm pistol. "This ain't no motherfucking Yellow pages either, so you best be taking your shiny ass on about your business man, or you'll find yourself with more then just a
drinking problem." Snooky had removed his hand gun and was standing as if here were a gunslinger awaiting the stranger to draw his weapon. He looked like some half assed urban cowboy
about to start his own version of the OK Corral.
"Listen!" the stranger said. His voice was calm yet strong."I'm looking for four women, strangely dressed people like me, who may have come through this area of the city or here about. One is a Wizard,
another a Conjuror, a Necromancer and then there's a little one, she'd be about this high, age 10. I'd just like to know if anyone has seen or heard anything about them.
I mean no one here any harm and would like nothing more then to go about my way peacefully. I would gladly pay for any information you have, say 4 gold pieces to anyone that may have seen them." There
was a second of silence followed by a burst of laughter. "Four gold pieces? What the fuck is that? I've got more then four hundred pieces in my chain alone bitch! Hey Sammy, if you don't mind, I'd like to bust a cap or two in the tin man here." It was Frank Winston and his trigger
happy attitude which began to anger the stranger. Snooky was still staring at the strange only now showing his teeth, marked in gold. "Nah man," he said, "Ain't nobody come through this way looking anything like you bitch, we ain't seen no Lion, Scarecrow, Dorothy or her
motherfucking Toto. So like we said, best you be taking your crazy ass elsewhere, Emerald City is on the other side of that door man Ain't going to be telling you again."
The stranger lifted his drink one last time and from the corner of his field of vision, could see a man three tables away pull out a gun, he pointed in his direction and before the bastard could pull the trigger, a silver dagger flew into his chest with such force, that it picked the man off the floor and threw him backwards, nailing him to the wall. Gasps escaped from
several mouths and thats when Snooky seized his chance, he reached for his pistol and before he could get it out saw himself standing there as his head was lopped off, rolling to the floor as
darkness closed in faster then he could scream. Sammy had pulled out Mr. AK, his chest beating wildly, and saw the stranger's gleaming sword slice through it like butter.
The stranger moved with lightning speed, splitting Peanut in half long ways, blood splattering against the mirrors and walls. Ronald Holmer who was coming out of the
bathroom, pulled out a shank and ran towards the stranger. The man turned and in one motion, impaled Ronald in the chest, there was a gushing sound of flesh and steel. The stranger
pulled his sword out of Ronald and after kicking him aside, yelled out. "No one else needs to die here!" He walked over to the bar where Sammy was still frozen in terror. He placed a
small bag of gold pieces on the counter. "Sorry for the trouble," he said and took the bottle of bourbon. Outside amongst the fancy Japanese luxury cars and motorcycles stood a
saddled mammoth. A beast which the stranger mounted and seemed to disappear. Camera fades to black.
W A L K E R S
S U M M E R 2014