Episode 7: Jason Thunder v. Nicholas Windsor

The scene opens on a shot of the back of a Tailor's shop. As the scene fades in, the white haired form of Tim Gunn can be seen entering the room, some tape in his hands and glancing over at the man currently standing in front of three mirrors, tilted to show off as many views as possible of his body, and making it easier to see the whole form of the person standing in front of it. Gunn steps closer and he looks at the man with a small smile.

Tim Gunn: "Hello. I believe there has been some kind of mistake. I wasn't expecting a new customer today."

The man turns, one hand held behind his back and the other in his pockets as he stares at Gunn. He is already dressed in an impressive suit, his tie a regal looking red and matching well with the navy blue suit he has on. He stares at Gunn for a moment before he speaks firmly, his thick English accent clear in every word.

Nicholas Windsor: "Oh I know. But I managed to find my way into your diary anyway. Just took a small call from my old friend William. I'm Nicholas Windsor, and its your pleasure to meet me, Mr. Gunn."

Tim Gunn: "I don--"

Before Gunn can even reply, Nicholas is spinning back around to face the mirror, silencing Gunn and waving him closer with just a gentle gesture of his hand.

Nicholas Windsor: "Now now. No time to waste on details or objections, I'm afraid time is of the essence. I require some new suits, your best work of course, anything less and you won't see a cent from me. I want a five, four, and three piece suit in each of the main colors, Navy, Sterling Grey and Black of course. All should be pure Vicuna, no blends. I find supers are just a touch blaise. You can reccomend some ties, but I shall be making the final decision. And they all need to be done within two weeks, as I have a rather important date coming up. I assume that won't be a problem?"

His speech is quick and brisk, giving the fashion designer absolutely no time to object or complain. Nicholas turns now to step away from the mirrors, slipping a piece of paper from his upper breast pocket, and sliding it inside Gunn's own suit pocket. Nicholas smiles as he looks at Gunn for a moment, and then reaches up and pats his cheek gently.

Nicholas Windsor: "No objections? Good. See you next week."

Windsor now steps past Gunn and heads for the doors, but stops as he sees a mannequin with a dress upon it. Reaching out to run his fingers along the collar, a soft pinkish velvet, before he looks back at Gunn and sneers.

Nicholas Windsor: "Dear God, did someone pay you to make that? How utterly horrific. Still, money can't buy taste, can it? No. That comes from the breeding. Right, must be off. See you next week."

And with that Nicholas headed out of the store, leaving a stunned and confused Gunn behind him. The camera followed Nicholas out, and he stepped across the pavement, towards where a suited man was standing and holding open the rear door on a midnight-black Mercedes Benz W222. Nicholas didn't even acknowledge him, instead just climbing in the car, and a moment later the door was shut behind him. The driver moved around to climb into the drivers seat, quietly starting the engine, while in the back, Nicholas slipped a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping his hands with a sigh.

Nicholas Windsor: "What is the world coming to, Wilfred, when a man can not even order new suits without some kind of objection by the service industry."

Wilfred: "I've told you before, Sir. My name is not Wil--"

Nicholas Windsor: "Oh no one cares what your name is, Wilfred. You are here to play a part. A silent part. So kindly shut your mouth, and let your betters talk."

The man in the front seat glances back, but then seems to think better of it. Clearing his throat and focusing back on the road. Nicholas finishes wiping his hands, and then slips the handkerchief back into one of his suit jacket pockets, glancing out the window to watch the world pass by once more in an enjoyable silence. Its the silence of a man who is well aware of his place in the world, and how easily he can find it. After a few moments he turns and looks back toward the front of the car.

Nicholas Windsor: "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. People these days have forgotten their place. Whatever happened to the days, when a man of class and wealth, could simply walk into any building in the city and be shown the proper respect? The peasantry of this world has found itself with such an entitled belief lately, a belief they have not earned and do not deserve. They seem to believe that this world owes them something. Like centuries upon centuries of them suffering has granted them the rights to actually want better for themselves. It's disgraceful."

Nicholas takes a deep breath in, looking out through his tinted windows at the city in front of him, shaking his head after a moment but then turning to look back at Wilfred.

Nicholas Windsor: "You know, there are times I feel so much pressure on my shoulders. None of these serfs understand what it's like to live like me. How much pressure there is to be a beacon of hope with your every action. To have to actually think for yourself, instead of just doing as you are told. They could not handle the pressure I live with every day, and yet, they all want what I have. Oh I've heard them. Heard their begging. How much easier they believe life would be with money behind them. It's an outdated thought process really, but it's much easier to let them have their allusions then to waste my breath on such undeserving individuals. And yet, I can hear them saying now, if I think everyone is so beneath me, why would I lower myself to actually touching them? To dare enter the...uhhh....oh dear. What do they call it?"

Wilfred: "Squared Circle."

Nicholas Windsor: "WILFRED! You spoke again. We have talked about that. Kindly desist. You have so little brain cells as it is, please keep them focused on your task at hand. Keeping us on the road."

Wilfred can be seen rolling his eyes in the rear view mirror, but Nicholas doesn't catch it, as he's slipped his handkerchief out to pat at his forehead and then slowly calming himself again. It takes him a few moments to balance himself, but then he is speaking once more.

Nicholas Windsor: "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. If merely thinking of such peasants touching me disgusts me, why would I ever agree to willing enter the squared circle where they can lay their hands upon me? It is simple really. Tradition. I am a massive believer in the sport of wrestling. Not all these flippy and jumpy moves, or those barbaric assaults with weapons and tools. No, I am a fan of the true sport. Wrestling as it once was. Where man may enter and test his mettle one-on-one to find out who is the better man. Grappling is my game, and I am rather well trained at it. And so, like all good nobles must, I have to show how much better I am then the lower class. It is my duty. And it starts this week with a....uhhh...."

Nicholas starts to pat his jacket pockets, turning to glance around the seats as well, before a simple manila folder can be seen being swayed back from the front seat, held in one hand by Wilfred. Nicholas takes it off him, glancing at it, and then looking at the back of Wilfred's head and nodding his head politely.

Nicholas Windsor: "Thank you, Wilfred. It seems you are not entirely useless after all."

Nicholas now reaches over to the door of the Mercedes, flipping open a small console in the door, and pulling out a single pair of reading glasses. Raising them to his eyes, he sets them on his nose and flicks open the folder, glancing it over and letting out a soft sigh.

Nicholas Windsor: "Ah yes. Mr. Jason Thunder. I remembered all this, yes yes. It's coming back to me now."

Nicholas slips his glasses off, placing them back inside the console of the door, and then closing the folder and glancing around.

Nicholas Windsor: "Mr. Thunder, or as he likes to call himself 'Blackheart'. A man who could barely bother to appear at the last EWF Pay Per View, and has been set in front of me, as an early test of sorts. It would seem he shall be quite a test. After all, Mr. Thunder happens to be a Bounty Hunter, a Lawyer, a FBI Agent, and has some political family members as well. He seems like a man of many hats, and yet, with just a cursory glance, I can already tell you that Mr. Thunder is nothing more then a giant failure. After all, what kind of a man has had so many occupations and he is barely even thirty? What kind of ineptitude must you be filled with, to have failed at so many jobs? And these are not simple jobs either. No, these are all jobs that require extensive study and training. Which tells me that Mr. Thunder has spent so many more years in college or doing courses, then he has in an actual job."

"No, Mr. Thunder. I do not believe you will test me too much this week. A man that is trying to start his fifth career in his adult life has no true ambition or ability. Just a lot of luck. And luck will not help you this week. Luck can not help you in the ring against a man who has had the finest training that money can buy. That has lived his life amongst the best of the best. From the moment I was born, I settled for having and being nothing less then the best. Why, I remember there was talk of one of my fellow classmates at York actually getting recognised as an academic before I would. Thankfully, they discovered he had been cheating on some of his tests, and the entire matter was solved amicably. I got my rightful place, the cheater was sent away, and natural order sorted itself out."

"You see, Mr. Thunder, that is the way my life is. Everything in its natural order. Everything in its place. People that cross me, tend to find out rather rapidly that it will not end well for them. Oh, I would hardly be so prevalent as to admit anything less then nefarious in my behaviour. Just merely doing my best to make sure you understand the scenario you find yourself in. You are coming up against a man with all the tools and skills in the world to succeed. And you are going to find out, in a rather brash and rapid manner, that the simple truth of my entire life, is that I am better then You."

Nicholas now smiles as he looks forward and sees Wilfred is slowing the car down, before glancing back at Nicholas.

Wilfred: "We're here, Sir."

Nicholas Windsor: "Splendid Wilfred. I do hope Donald hasn't been waiting too long."

--FIN--