CICADA sits in the back of an SUV with a black mesh hood over his head. He wears his traditional ring wear, from what we can tell. The white pants with blue markings and a white vest adorn his body. On either side of the monstrous man are two equally imposing soldiers of the coven, wearing black suits with bolero ties and dark sunglasses. The camera is pointed past CICADA and out the back of the SUV, where we can see sand and dirt being kicked up by its tires. The SUV slows and comes to a stop. The soldier on the driver side opens his door and pulls CICADA toward the door. CICADA allows the man to escort him from the vehicle. The second soldier walks around the back of the SUV and stands on the opposite side of CICADA, and the three men enter a business front somewhere in the Mexican desert.
The camera fades and returns on the two men sitting CICADA down in a leather chair, and pulling the hood from his head. CICADA simply stares forward, stoic and never flinching. The man on the driver side speaks English with a thick Mexican accent.
Driver Side Soldier: The High Brujah will be here soon.
The two men step back and stand by the door with their hands crossed in front of their belt lines. Within a few seconds, a woman appears at the doorway. She’s older, perhaps in her seventies. She wears what you’d expect a Grandmother to wear: a loose fitting knit sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, stretchy blue jeans and velcro shoes. Not what you’d expect of a High Brujah. Her short white hair contrasts on her dark, sunkissed skin. As she steps into the room, she gasps. The men beside her move their hands to their weapons, but she stops them. She catches her breath and speaks as she walks toward the desk CICADA is staring at. Her accent is less thick, but still noticeable.
High Brujah: You are very deceiving, Mr. CICADA. Even your size is masked by the television screen. You are more impressive in person, but I must ask: Why do you reside in Thailand when you are not Thai? Why do you wear this mask, yet it is not customary to wrestle in a mask in your culture. Why do you shelter the unwanted and make them the unknown?
The High Brujah stands beside her desk, placing a hand upon it for stability. She pauses, looking at CICADA’s face. CICADA maintains stoic, staring straight ahead.
High Brujah: There is an aura about you, Mr. CICADA, that I can not crack. You have dabbled in dark magick, that much I can tell. Something you have done in your past…you hide from, yet, it does not weigh you down like other men.
She pauses again, this time examining him in full.
High Brujah: You have proven yourself to be a great match for Ultimo Muerte, Mr. CICADA. Perhaps I underestimated you still. Mr. Johnson had to name his REIGN event after your match, something a businessman does not take lightly. Perhaps I did.
The High Brujah walks between CICADA and her desk, sitting on the edge of it and crossing her arms.
High Brujah: Ultimo Muerte’s purpose is clear. His motives are clear. He must provide for this coven. What are your motives? What is your purpose?
She stares at the man in front of her. CICADA turns his head ever-so-slightly. Though there are no holes for his eyes, the High Brujah can feel his locking on hers. CICADA nods slightly. A rush of air rolls through the office. Uneased, the High Brujah gasps again. Immediately, she starts shouting.
High Brujah: Get! Get him out! Get him back to the United States, and as far away from the compound as possible. NOW!
The two men by the door rush over to CICADA, throwing the hood back over his head and pull him up out of the chair. The High Brujah is shaken, collapsing briefly on the desk but catching herself. A woman rushes in as the two men step out. The new woman helps the High Brujah to her feet. The High Brujah grabs the woman by the arm and looks her in the eyes.
High Brujah: That was no ordinary man. He is not to be taken lightly. Get me Pandora. Ultimo Muerte must know!
The camera fades as the woman who rushed in to help the High Brujah exits the room just as quickly.