Hollywood California. October 21st, 1995.
I love this city, he mused through deep black shades cast out toward the great sign that welcomed him back. He raced down 101 toward past Whitley Heights in to Hollywood California, eyes on the mirror back faced back at him, and not a care in the world as the wind, the palm trees, and the California sun welcomed him with open arms.
Past The Comedy Store and down toward the Sunset Strip, Johnny swerved left just as the light turned red down North Olive Drive. With only one car patient at the light, he didn't care about the rules, he had somewhere to be, and the luck of Hollywood was going to make it happen for him, laws be damned.
Once in the heart of Hollywood, he pulled into the parking lot of a three story studio office building, the windows as grey as metal, like a cage that kept the execs in. He thought it was like the battleground for lawyers, producers, studio big wigs to decide who got what, and what film would make it big. Today, they'd be fighting over him, and his film would be the next big thing to hit screens in the coming year.
It had to.
Outside the lot he wiped his furrowed brow of the sun that melted down his flesh and adjusted the dark shades that protected him from the harsh light of day. The building had an open lot, a few restaurants to each side and a mechanic shop across the street. Nondescript, perfect for an office space for the medium budget movie he was ready to get to.
The bus stop bench just by the entrance had a bald, frail man that looked to be in his forties, tanned by the sun, and old past his years, probably due to homelessness. Johnny almost hit him when he turned in to the lot, but the man paid I'm no mind, until the 95' Lexus SC parked and Johnny entered the hot reality of South Los Angeles.
"Hey, you almost his me, man." He accosted Johnny, but the words fell on deaf ears.
The star locked up the vehicle and started toward the building. The homeless man approached him, but Johnny had cleared him well before he could touch when the man reached out for him. When the man's hand touched the truck off is car instead, Johnny's shades locked on the man and he gestured for him to keep off.
"That vehicle is worth more than your whole family, have some respect." Johnny confronted and the man listened.
"Sorry, man, but you almost hit me, would have scraped your car too if you weren't more careful." Johnny had peeled into the lot, and the scrape from the edge of the bench would have done more damage to the vehicle, per Johnny, than the man's leg that stretched over it.
"Can you at least spare a five?"
"Excuse me?" Johnny's temper flared, his face red, his watch glared back at him as his appt. inside waited. "Do you know who I am? I'm Johnny Cage, and I didn't get rich by giving my money away to people like you. Go get a job."
"Who?"
The question didn't even register. Everyone had to have heard of him. He didn't have time for it though, no debates could be won against a stone wall.
Once his hand reached for the door, he looked back to check on the man. He was satisfied with the distance between the homeless and his vehicle and to his right, the bus was on its way to take that mess off the street for him.
Inside, Johnny was greeted by a long grey and white hallway that ended about three meters in with an oak desk and a beautiful blond in red. He tucked his silver suit and checked his feet for dirt before he leaned against the wood to greet her with a whitened smile.
"Miss me?" He flirted.
Through an awkward laugh she rushed some files away from view and cleared the space so her hands could fold in front of him. "You're late, actually. Must have been a long night with Harvey, was the party that good?"
He snickered and brushed the question off. His arms rested on the edge of the reception desk and he leaned in to take a good look at her configuration.
"You know, you should wear a silver dress, would look good next to me." He proceeded to tilt his shades down, his demeanor more serious, "if I had the time. What room's the meeting?"
"Three doors down, to your left."
"This is going to be a good one!"
"Good luck." She called out as the door shut, but he opened it just enough to reply with a smile.
"Hey, it's me!" He shrugged off the concern and reached his final destination. Now, success would be given to him on a golden platter once the next door opened.
Inside the room, Johnny was met with silence. The beige walls stared back at him, the windows in the room looked out over the parking lot, he could even see the old man still at that bus stop corner. The long oak table was empty, the chairs void of bodies, and inside was just him and one other person.
"You're late, John." A man, twenties, clean shaven and hair trimmed short, gathered his Starbucks mug and turned, surprised to see Cage. He looked busy, a suitcase in one hand and the mug in the other, he paused, unsure if he should motion for the exit that Johnny stood between.
"Where is everyone?" Cage hung at the door, hand on the edge, eyes scanned the empty room.
"Word came down, Weinstein wants Tom Cruise for the film."
"Rain man?" His shades came off, folded and tucked. The harsh light of day flooded into the room and he could only stare back at his agent.
"Top Gun, Risky Business, A Few Good Man, yeah Tom Cruise." He added, "turns out he was at a meet and greet recently, producers got to meet him, got to talking about rebooting Ninja Mime and everything went from there."
"What do you mean by that? I've played Ninja Mime for two films, there's no one else." Johnny let the man's words fall on his deaf ears. He needed a better explanation.
The man scratched his forehead with a free hand and began to tap his foot. Johnny's stare told him all he needed to know, but wasn't sure how to convey that in a way he could understand.
Johnny felt the urge to strike. With a quick jab he could take out his agent and no one would notice
"Don't look at me like that, John." He continued, "You got to every audition like you think you're the biggest star there. You think having this big persona is going to get you the big gig like it did with the first Ninja Mime, but John, no one gives a shit."
"I give a shit!" He snapped back.
"Well, it sure doesn't look like it to the people that write your checks."
Johnny glared, he couldn't speak. His rage pinched his veins and slapped his cheeks, and the impulse to itch was stronger and stronger. He was hurt, but beneath the boiling sea of red, it was merely the muted whimper of his heartbeat that held him back.
He was ready to sacrifice everything.
For nothing.
"John, as your agent, listen to me." He spoke and approached, hands out, palms faced toward his opponent, but he was met with hostility and stepped back. "I want you to go home, and wait for me to call you. Got that? For me to call you, John."
"Go fuck yourself." The last words spoken to his agent before the door slammed and the star was gone.
Outside the old bald man watched from the same bus stop bench as Johnny peeled out of the lot and past the red light that dared to stop him.
The old man grinned.
Far along the edges of the city, where the sign was just a black mold on the ridge of a vast and unseen hill, and the city itself was no more glamorous than the dim stars through the smog that threatened to press down from the heavens, Johnny found the the dark cogs of home.
A trailer in a park tucked away from the prying eyes of the city, was home to the broken star. His shades tossed in the car he'd already begun to think of what he'd make from selling it, he looked back, perhaps even more with shades included.
His small cobweb within the pit of Los Angeles was three trailers down and two across, on the left that is. There he could see the light of his neighbor, flickered and dim just as his when it still burned bright before it finally ceased three nights ago. He had meant to mention it to the landlord, but that would mean facing the man who sought rent ten days after it was due.
Inside, the shrine of Johnny Cage had caked with dust. The switch to his immediate right ignored his request for light so he banged on it, but no amount of abuse would brighten this night. The living room was small, about two couches sleeper couches wide, except he could only afford a chair and a tv. The skeletal remains of his desperate attempts to pay off the only thing in his life that maintained the image he desired. The hearse of a car that carried the corpse of a star around hollywood.
That too will have to go, the thought crept into his mind more often than he wanted.
The barren kitchen lead to the smallest room, the bathroom. A medicine cabinet over the sink, which leaned over the toilet that sat to the right of the bathtub.
There in the darkness he stared. No food could pass his mouth tonight, for the tightness in his chest and burn that flared across his flesh was far too great. His eyes, those dark beady voids stared into themselves until all that remained were his thoughts. The face he projected gone until the darkness began seep like gas out from those black circles of hatred and suffering.
Bang!
Bang!
"Where's my money, Johnny?" A voice followed the commotion. The property manager wrestled with the door and swung it wide open.
Johnny refused to break the glare in the mirror.
"This is the last time, pay the rent or–" his voice faded in the background.
He couldn't hear anything. The world seemed to burn away. The eyes turned to shadows that glared at nothing. No one looked back at him.
When the door slammed, his muscles reacted and smashed the mirror. Those pinched nerves and tense bone cracked taut flesh as glass shattered around him and his knuckles warmed to the idea of imminent destruction of the human being.
Years had passed since he had any kind of money and his name held any kind of weight.
Who are you?