AL-001

[Lyndon]

Let me tell you a story… 

Alexander Lyndon appeared on screen, smiling. His hair flowing in front of his face, his eyes lost some place that wasn’t in this room. His voice, raspy and more deadly than ever… venom was about to be spouted from his mouth. He turned his head back to the camera and with his eyes piercing through the lens, he began speaking. 

There was a kid, he was called to the field of war. In the middle of nowhere. That place where only dust hovers over your head and the smell of death gets into your lungs with such ease, that you cringe in bed every night. The kid didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be home, yet he knew… he knew that he needed to provide. He needed to be the MAN of the house, he needed to be what his father never was. His mom, the only thing the kid had left, the only thing the kid ever knew, was waiting, crying herself out every single night watching the news. Watching how those bombs menaced her kid, miles and miles away. 

Praying to a god that no one ever saw, but most believed in. Calling him out in the night, only to find that he was gone. She imagined he was fine, but he was not. He never told her… HE never said what he felt each and every time he had to carry the gun on his back. HE never told her that he felt like the monster that once lived with her. HE never said that he felt the same kind of power his father felt every time he hit his mother square in the face. 

But he was there, he needed to be strong, for mother. HE needed to stand his ground and not let the smell of death and the power that comes with knowing yourself armed, get to him. After all, he was just a kid… and this wasn’t Kansas anymore. 

He laughed, he laughed so hard that for a full minute all you could hear was his maniacal laugh. But then he stopped and, once again, looked directly to the camera as he spoke. 

Just like Los Angeles ain’t Kansas anymore for you, my sister. 

A smirk drew itself on Lyndon’s face as he combed his hair out of his face and to the back of his ear. He looked sideways, directly to the camera, as he spoke. 

You may think this is just a show. The lights, the fans, the thrill of being in front of tons of people. But no, no… my sister… this ain’t no show, this ain’t no game. For as you see, this is a proving ground. The proving ground for those who are strong to wipe out those who are weak. 

See, each and every week, we’re pitted together, like fighting dogs, for the amusement of those who aren’t brave enough to step in the ring and fight for themselves. Each and every week one of us is fighting for his or her fifteen minutes in the spotlight. You… you seem to be the one that fights for the most around here, sister. 

You seem to be the one that has the most to lose each and every night and that’s where you draw your strength from. But… Susan… it ain’t gonna be enough. 

It ain’t gonna be enough because you’re not facing someone who looks for wins or someone who looks to make amends in his own life. You’re not working with someone who paints his face or is entitled to his fifteen minutes… NO… my sister… you’re facing me. 

Lyndon stood up and looked directly to the camera as he spoke. 

And I pity your soul, I pity your body and I pity your mom… because she has to bear witness to the way I’m gonna treat you. For, you see, I’ve never been an advocate of violence… but I’ve seen things, I’ve done things… and violence is the only way out of the place I’m in… and the predicament we’ve put each other. 

And I wish I could tell you that this is going to hurt me more than it’s gonna hurt you… I wish I could lie straight to your face like my father used to do before hitting my mom in the face… but I can’t. Kent… the yellow brick road… leads directly to a roadblock… and it’s called… ALEXANDER… LYNDON. 

The feed fades out.