Aligning Goals

[Ameronth]

*The scene opens at Rudalpho's, a fine Italian eatery in mid-town Sacramento. The plush dining establishment bustles with clinking cutlery and casual conversation. A variety of suit-wearing wait-staff weaves between tables carrying silver domed platters high in the air. A live string-orchestra sits in the corner of the main dining hall playing tasteful dining music. The front door of the establishment opens and an uncomfortable-looking Ronnie Lassiter shuffles inside. He is wearing an ill-fitting sports jacket over a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. He walks up to the front podium, where he is greeted by the hostess. The woman looks the gigantic man up and down and smiles awkwardly.*

HOSTESS: "Good evening sir. How may I help you?"

*Lassiter clears his throat and rubs a hand across the back of his neck.*

LASSITER: "Um... yes, I uh... have a reservation here? To uh... eat. My Name's Ron... Lassiter?"

*The hostess looks at his ill-fitting sports jacket and jeans skeptically and begins thumbing through the reservation book on the podium. Lassiter catches her off-putting look and frowns. He clears his throat and shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot.*

HOSTESS: "Hmm... let's see here. Mmm-hmm... well sir, I'm not seeing anything under a 'Lassiter'. Are you sure you are at the correct establishment?"

LASSITER: "Uh... pretty sure yeah. Maybe check under Damion Black? He's meeting me here."

*The hostess' eyes immediately perk up and she snaps the book closed without another glance.*

HOSTESS: "Oh I'm terribly sorry for the misunderstanding sir. Here, let me take you to Mr. Black's regular table. Would you like to see our specials or will you be dining off-menu this evening?"

*Lassiter raises his eyebrows as he follows the hostess. He looks from table to table as he passes through the restaurant. The patrons all stop eating to watch the gigantic man pass. The hostess leads Lassiter to a secluded area of the restaurant. As they pass a an ebony partition, Lassiter sees a candle-lit table already adorned with red wine and food: caviar, escargot, red wine, and a large steak and salad in front of one empty chair, and across from that sits Damion Black in a pressed Black suit. Damion looks up at as Lassiter approaches and smiles genuinely, rising from the table and offering his hand.*

BLACK: “Ronnie, good of you to come. Thank you for joining me for dinner this evening.”

*The two men shake hands, and Ronnie pulls the chair back to sit down when he catches a glance from Damion. Damion’s expression has dropped a bit, causing Lassiter to pause uncomfortably. Lassiter straightens himself up before sitting, unsure of what to do. At Lassiter’s pause, Damion smiles again and sits down first, then motions for Lassiter to sit.*

BLACK: “I took the liberty of ordering for you. 24 ounces of New York strip steak, organically fed and cared for. The beast was bred entirely for your pleasure. Please, enjoy while we attend to business.”

LASSITER: “Uh... I mean... thank you Mr. Black. I appreciate you uh... breeding meat for me.”

BLACK: “Ronnie, the reason I asked you here tonight is that I have a problem that needs solving. It’s Brian Fury. He is not the champion I had hoped he would be. He’s gotten sloppy, let himself be injured. He cannot represent PWA from the sidelines. I have tried to help him, to keep him motivated, to guide him, but Brian is a stubborn man. He is short-sighted, as if he walks around with blinders. He only sees one destiny and one path to travel, and the path that Brian walks will bring him to ruin. He may take PWA with him. I can’t allow that to happen.”

LASSITER: “Huh. You know, Fury’s a... a hell of a fighter. I’m sure he’s... you know... doing his best, right?”

BLACK: “Look Ronnie I’ll be blunt. I want YOU to face Fury for the Heavyweight title and relieve him of a burden he clearly isn’t cut out for. I’m sure he’s done his best, but frankly he’s shown he can’t handle it. On the other hand... I believe that burden is something someone of you’re caliber COULD handle. You’re young and hungry, genetically gifted with natural talent and unmatched ability. Let’s be honest... you were born to be a champion.”

LASSITER: “What exactly are you saying Mr. Black?”

BLACK: “I’m saying... that I can put you in position to claim your rightful title, but you must be the one to claim it for your own. Can I trust you?”

LASSITER: “A shot at the Heavyweight title?”

**Lassiter looks at the spread of luxury before him and wrinkles his brow. He thinks for a minute... and then smiles cooly.**

LASSITER: “Mr. Black... you give me the opportunity... and I guarantee you that you’ll have yourself a champion that you can be proud of.”

*Black smiles and takes a slow sip of wine. He closes his eyes, savoring the flavor.*

BLACK: “1873 Bourdeaux……. a fine year, truly. And for you and PWA, 2020 will be a fine year.”