By Late Bloomer

Witchblade Deleted Scene #1

(The scene is in the living room of Irons’ mansion. Irons is pacing the floor in annoyance. Ian is sitting in a chair, head lowered. He is scowling.)

Irons: This situation is intolerable. For weeks now you have sulked and frowned, and shown signs of rebellion against me. You were once the perfect instrument, like a scalpel. Now you are more like a dull edge. I am loathe to waste my impressive vocabulary and polished diction on such a colloquial phrase, but I must say it. You have become a real drag.

Ian: (raises head and glowers at Irons) I am nothing but what you made me. If I am dull, it was your doing!

Irons: How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is a thankless child!

Ian: When did you ever treat me like a son?

Irons: (indignant) Did I not spend millions bringing you into existence? Did you not grow up with many animals? I surrounded you with the best tutors and most advanced weaponry any boy could want. I even had you trained as a Black Dragon!

Ian: You conned the government into paying for that!

Irons: That was just another sign of my genius. (Takes a more conciliatory tone. He sits beside Ian and puts an arm around him.) Ian, Ian. I see I have neglected you lately. That is what this is all about. We shall have a quiet dinner together as we used to. Caviar, truffles, some Chateau Mouton Rothschild...(more coaxing).. Mon-key brains? Would you like that? Hm?

Ian: I want...

Irons: Yes, my son, what do you want?

Ian: I want..I want a Happy Meal!

Irons (leaps to his feet) Common, massed produced food, one like the other? “Over Eighty Billion Cloned?” How appropriate.

Ian: (ignores the comment) And for my birthday, I wish to go to Chuck E. Cheese.

Irons: You know not your master.

Ian: On the contrary. I know my standing quite well. (He rises, and strides around the more. His speech becomes more confidant, and he begins to act very like Irons.) I have watched you devote all your energies to controlling the Witchblade through its weilder. I saw you attempt to control the Spear of Destiny. In both instances you failed. Yet all along I have held the power that exceeds both of these instruments.

Irons: And what is this power you speak of? Am I supposed to fear it?

Ian: You should fear it. Watch. (Ian’s face changes) This is what I will do: I will wear my wounded puppy expression in front of your women. They will immediately leave you and flock to me. Any woman, in fact, will thus be under my control.

Irons (looks away and begins to talk to himself. He senses he may lose this time). There is no madness in this method. It is true, I failed with the other weapons. Yet, despite their power, they were but one weapon and weilder. They would be no match for the coordinated masses. I-we- could control half of the entire population. Women are in charge anyway. With Ian, I could-dare I say it?-rule the world.

Ian: Sir, just why do you want to rule the world?

Irons (rolls eyes): I’m a megalomaniac billionaire, Ian. It’s what we do.

(Irons has made his decision. He rushes over to Ian and puts an arm around him again). Ian, I have not properly used your talents. We shall use your special gift. And we will go out to dinner. (He takes on a more soothing tone, like an adult talking to a small child). We will make it a true family dinner. Unfortunately, we lack adequate travel accommodations, so here is what you must do. Hijack a Good Humor truck, get some more ice at 7-11, we will load up your mother and brothers, and go wherever you want. Would you like that? Hm? (Ian nods happily, like a little boy).

Irons: Off! To Mickey D’s!

Ian bounds away, twirling his coat. At the door, he stops and gives a dramatic thumbs up to Irons.

Irons (returns the flourish) Begone, Ian! Greasiness awaits!