SDF Round 4 - The Final Cut - Part 5

“Hello there, I’m Tuuli. Who are you...three,” the larger of the two wolverines asked, nearly missing Karl. “Are you also finalists? Where is Ian?”

Umozozi stared. Instinctively, his hair raised at the two ferals. But emotionally, he simply could not comprehend the appearance of Ian’s remaining family. He placed his head in hands.

Josefina’s heart dropped. She could only stammer two words, “I-I’m sorry.”

Tuuli frowned, “What are you sorry for?”

“What are you sorry for, Ms. Figueroa? Yes, that’s an Interesting question. Why don’t we look at the footage again?” Winston said.

The screen came down and played an all too familiar scene. Umozozi’s fight with Ian and Ian’s death. The room went dead silent. Karl glowed, waiting for the events to unfold around him.

Tuuli and Suvi watched the screen, perplexed at Ian fighting transparent figures, and then immediately they turned away from the bloody display. The smaller wolverine of the two covered his eyes with his hands and shook while his father comforted him.

Everything else was silent. Everything but the sound of the footage that blared in the background.

"Turn it off!" Tuuli demanded with a snarl, the pink of his gums visible.

"Aunty Ian! I don't get this...you said," Suvi added, looking into the audience at the collection of talent agents gathered there. "You said she was finalist. That I'd get to see her again."

"But you did see her again," Winston interjected. "Just not in person."  

Tuuli bristled wildly, and he turned his glossy eyes towards Winston. His hands were balled into fists. "What the hell is this? Why would you show us that? Or...have it on film. What's wrong with all of you?"

Winston answered nonchalantly, “She is dead. That footage is real.”

“What are you talking about? No one was touching her? How...how is any of this possible?”

“I assure you, that was no special effect. She is dead. You can ask Mr. Ntembara or Ms. Figueroa. They were there.”

“Cut the crap, Winston!” Karl called out. “Just come out and say it. Macho Man and the Abomination over there axed the naked lady!”

Tuuli drew Suvi closer to him, and then he turned his eyes on the baboon, “You did kill her, didn’t you? I saw how you treated her in the video. You killed her because she didn’t wear clothes, because she didn’t live by your city laws,” Tuuli then started to babble. “We left our old lives to get away from the violence. We left so no one would die. But, now she is dead. Not from a war, but from some hateful city kid.”

Suvi burst into tears. Tuuli leaned down to hug him. He kept his weary eyes on the baboon. Fear was written across his body.

Umozozi’s head remained in his hands. He didn’t move.

Tuuli screeched, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Josefina leapt in front of her friend, shielding him, “Zi didn’t kill her! It’s true he said those horrible things. But he didn’t kill her! She’s dead because Winston thought her death was important. Her death is part of his sadistic screenplay!”

Umozozi mumbled through his hands, “I didn’t like her, but she saved me. She kept us moving when the ghosts appeared.”

Tuuli looked between the two of them. Uncertainty and anger had taken up permanent residency in his eyes.

"Ghosts? I...none of this feels real," the wolverine said finally, through gritted teeth. "You...you had Ian ‘scripted’ to die, Winston?"

"Yes, it's as Ms. Figueroa has described it. Though I would've worded it much differently."

Suvi lurched from his seat and dove at Winston before anyone could stop him.

Winston dodged his blow with relative ease, and continued with a flourish. "You see, I'm but a servant to the plot. It was what the audience needed to understand the stakes. They need to acknowledge that anyone can die. But the sad reality is some are more prone to this fate than others. That's why it had to be her! She had a purpose in her death though. She was the most sympathetic character. Her death would make people examine their own prejudice. This was for the disabled, disenfranchised everywhere. Her death is the press forward for justice."

Josefina advanced on the weasel, “This...this is not justice! This is a murder of an innocent. True justice would be for this madness to stop.”

Voices from nowhere began to shout.

"Justice! Justice!"

Reactions were different among those in the room. Suvi chanted along with the voices. Tuuli was silent, the whites of his eyes continuing to show trepidation. Umozozi did not move. And Karl yelled out, “Cripes, a bunch of friggin’ ghosts is all we need.”

A screen came down from the ceiling. And on it was the familiar face of none other than Phildegard Ripley. Three german shepherds, a duck, and a raptorfisk stood behind him. The unseen audience continued shouting for justice.

"Ah, it appears we have even more guests!" Winston said, cupping his hands together in apparent glee. "Mr. Ripley, perhaps there's something you'd like to add to this? I'm quite curious myself if you'll have an answer. Come on out."

With that he held out his hand in front of the screen, and the elderly dinosaur reluctantly reached through and grasped it.

Winston’s hand clasped around an invisible hand and then at the screen. Umozozi wanted to scream when it dawned on it him that Mr. Ripley wasn't visible except when he looked at one of the screens that was broadcasting the room live. Just like the ghosts from the prop room.

"What did you do to him?" Umozozi barked in alarm.

Phil seemed to be in a slight daze, as though he were trying to get ahold of his bearings.  When he was fully outside the screen, he immediately released Winston's hand and gave him a stern, displeased look.

"Do you have an answer for me?" Winston asked again, but he didn't wait for a response. He settled his gaze back on Josefina. "Or perhaps you do, Ms. Figueroa? How can the madness be ended, exactly? Is madness not what you wanted?"

"...what are you talking about?" she demanded.

"'Madness' is but another name for those who cannot recognize change is needed. For something that is done differently or in a manner that is uncomfortable."

The crowd's fervor grew louder, and more rapidly.

Phil closed his eyes and held his hands up to the sides of his head, "Please. Stop this. Stop Winston."

Umozozi shook, hackles raised at the sounds of the ghosts. There was so much going on, but he wanted to concentrate on Mr. Ripley. He looked as though he were in pain.

"How?" the baboon asked. "What can we do?"