Ryou Bakura- Film Maker
One Last Shot
It was late evening in Hollywood. On a tiny little street in the suburbs, there lay a small little house. Inside that little house, the telephone rang for the 4th time. The man who lived there, Ryou Bakura, was home. But Bakura was busy with his feet propped up on his desk, reading a hastily stapled set of pages. The telephone rang again, and the answering machine picked.
"You've reached Ryou Bakura, President of Bakura Films. Leave a message." Bakura Films was the filming company Bakura ran. He ran it by himself, financed it himself, and the company had never made a film. In other words, the company pretty much existed in Bakura's own mind.
"Mr. Bakura, this is Underwood. You've still got those debts to pay off from the Super Bowl. Get the money within a month, or I'm coming for a visit." The caller threatened. Bakura didn't hear, even as the phone rang again. He whistled lowly and lowered the pages in his hand.
"Great script…" He muttered. "My god…he wrote an incredible script." Bakura pumped his fist and looked down at his feet. His loyal golden retriever Rochelle lay snoozing at his feet. Bakura patted the dog on the head, waking it up. Rochelle yawned and looked up at her master. "This is it Rocky." Bakura whispered, using the dog's nickname. "After 10 years, I'm finally going to make a movie." The answering machine picked up again, and this time, Bakura heard it.
"Ryou, pick up. It's Mai. I'm leaving. You've been promising me work for a year, and you've turned up nothing." Bakura gasped and jumped to his feet, racing to the phone.
"No, NO!" He shouted, sliding across the floor. He knocked down the table the phone was on, sending it to the floor, along with himself.
"Ryou? I heard a crash, you okay?" Mai asked. Bakura grabbed the receiver.
"Mai, don't leave!" Bakura pleaded. "We're making a movie, I promise!"
"You promised a lot of things when we met Ryou, and I need work."
"You will have work Mai, I promise you. Just be here at 9 am tomorrow, and I'll fill you in. Ok?" Bakura said.
"9 am, sharp." Bakura said, hanging up. One thing you can count on- for some reason, if you tell someone to do something, and hang up on them, they'll probably do it. A funny quirk of humans, but hey, it worked. Bakura set the table upright and put the phone on it, hitting speed dial. He waited as a machine picked up.
"Yo, you've reached Malik. I ain't here, leave a message." Bakura sighed. He preferred to speak to Malik directly, but beggars can't be choosers.
"Malik, I need a fancy car tomorrow, and I need to know where Maximillion Pegasus is at 9:30 am. That's right, Pegasus. Do it, don't think about it, just do it. You're my hero pal." Bakura hung up and hit a second speed dial. This one picked up on the second ring.
"What?" A sleepy voice snapped. Bakura grinned.
"Kaiba, its Ryou." He said cheerfully.
"Bye." Kaiba growled.
"Wait wait wait, Kaiba, hold on!" Bakura shouted. "Look, I got the break, I'm making a film, and I'm casting you as the villain! Whadda ya think?"
"Excuse me while I jump up and down for joy." Kaiba growled
"Look, be here at 9 am tomorrow. I'll explain everything then." Bakura said, hanging up. He hit one more speed dial.
"Yeah, what's up?" the voice on the line said.
"Joey, its Ryou. You did it pal, you wrote a great script." Bakura cheered. Joey gasped.
"Really? You're kidding!" Joey cried.
"Now way, you did it Joey. Kiss those fast food jobs goodbye, you're a screenwriter now." Bakura chuckled.
"I knew it, I knew I'd get it!" Joey yelled. "Hello-o-o-o-o-o film industry, ha HA! Yeah!"
"Joey, Joey!" Bakura yelled. "I need you to be here at 9 am, ok?"
"You got it!" Joey said. Bakura hung up and took a breath.
"This is it…" He whispered, looking up at a calendar. "5 months, and I'm 30." Bakura smiled. No great director he could think of had started after they hit 30. In Hollywood, if you couldn't make your break before you got to middle age…well, as far as Bakura had heard, you probably weren't gonna make your break. "I've got one last shot." He looked down at Rochelle. "You think I can make a movie…don't ya Rocky?" Rochelle whimpered and trotted away. Bakura sighed.
"I get that a lot."
-9 am, the next day-
Joey yawned and leaned his head on the shoulder of the person next to him. Kaiba grimaced and shoved him back.
"Get offa me." He snarled.
"Excuse me, I'm sleepy." Joey grumbled. Mai crossed her arms.
"Where is he, we're on time." She huffed. The door to Bakura's bedroom opened, and the man walked out with a script in his hand and a grin on his face.
"First of all, thanks for still coming. I know things have been slow lately…"
"No, a snail is slow, a turtle is slow. Turtles have been passing us, and pointing and laughing." Kaiba snapped.
"You're supposed to keep us employed Bakura, and none of us have seen work in a year." Mai agreed. "I've got bills to pay, and I don't plan to be a clothing store clerk forever, I want to be in movies." Bakura held up his hands.
"I know, I know. But, last night, I was given an omen. God reached down his hand into this young man." He said, holding out a hand to Joey. "And through him, wrote an incredible script that every studio is going to want." Joey grinned and shook Bakura's hand.
"Aw, it was nothin'." Joey blushed.
"Oh, this is far from nothing, Joey. We are the little guys. We are the nadda, we the squat, we are the bottom rung on the Hollywood ladder. When guys climb to the top, they don't pass us because we're so low on the ladder."
"You really know how to give a pep talk." Kaiba muttered. Bakura continued, ignoring him.
"We do not have power, strength. Until now. Because my friend, Joey Wheeler, is an amazing screenwriter, as well as a great McDonalds cashier, and Tim Horton's drive through manager." Joey shrugged.
"Thanks, I try. You've gotta pack the donuts on top, or else they smoosh. You put the harder stuff on the bottom, so it can stand the weight." He said. Bakura nodded.
"Okay Joey, tell them what it's about." Bakura said eagerly. Joey sat up and smiled.
"Okay guys, the movie is called…Yugioh, King of Games." He said triumphantly. Mai raised an eyebrow.
"That's it? That's the title?" She asked dryly. Kaiba snorted.
"Please. No one in their right mind is going to watch something called Yugioh." He said under his breath. Joey glared.
"It's Japanese, Kaiba. See, in ancient Egypt, the strongest wizards battled each other, using monsters from another dimension. These battles were called 'Shadow Games', and the strongest player was the Pharaoh Atemu, making him the King of Games. Yugioh, it's Japanese for King of Games." Joey explained.
"Right." Bakura agreed. "And when our hero Atemu, strikes down Seth's Blue Eyes White Dragon with the Dark Magician, and yells…go to Hell, old friend…that is a moment, it will be the moment, it will be the final fight scene movies will try to copy for decades to come." Bakura looked up and pointed at the window. "Look at that." He said. Joey, Kaiba and Mai turned. A FedEx truck was driving down the street. "You see that FedEx truck?" Bakura asked. Joey turned to him.
"It's coming here?" He asked. Bakura shrugged.
"Well no." He admitted, as the truck turned a corner. "But big people, directors, producers, actors. The big names, they get FedExs every day from trucks like that. And one day, a FedEx truck will stop here, and a delivery man will come in, and hand me a FedEx package containing an offer to shoot a film. And when that happens, we- and by we, I actually just mean me- will be somebody." Joey grinned.
"Whoa…what a dream." He said. Kaiba rolled his eyes. Bakura looked at his watch.
"And right now, I have a meeting with Maximillion Pegasus." He said, tossing on a jacket. "And if it goes the way I hope…I'll see you 3 at the Oscars." Bakura rushed out the door, leaving his 3 friends behind.
- - - - - - - - - -
The old van drove down Hollywood Boulevard, heading to a random parking lot. Bakura pulled in next to a tanned man leaning against a red sports car. Bakura jumped out and walked towards them.
"Malik, nice wheels." He yelled. Malik Ishter, one of Bakura's best friends, worked at a movie studio. It was a low job, a little bit a security, some chauffer work, a little inventory. And through Malik, Bakura was often able to put up a front. Like today, for example. Malik tossed Bakura the keys.
"This belongs to the producer, and I need to have it washed and gassed up within 2 hours." Malik warned. "Pegasus is at the Café Grande, on 3rd and 5th." Bakura climbed in the car and looked up at Malik.
"At long last, I'm making a movie. And you, my friend, are head of filming. You know what that means, right?"
"It means you'll finally be paying me back for all these years of doing shit like this for you? Risking my job so you can fool others into thinking you're a somebody?" Malik asked.
"Exactly." Bakura said, pulling back. "And Malik, if this movie gets made, the van is yours!" He drove out of the parking lot, leaving a confused Malik behind.
"It's already mine!" He called after Bakura, tapping the custom 'Ishtar1' plates.
- - - - - - - - - -
Inside a men's clothing store, Bakura was browsing. He picked up a grey suit and looked it over before looking down at his old, worn out plaid suit. He glanced back at the counter, where the store clerk was reading a magazine. Bakura looked up as a security camera turned away. He nodded and went to work.
-30 seconds later-
Bakura walked past the store clerk, whistling. As he passed, the clerk looked up.
"Have a nice day sir." He said. As he looked down at his magazine, the clerk did a double take and looked up. Near where Bakura was browsing, a worn out plaid suit hung from the rack.
- - - - - - - - - -
Climbing in 'his' car, Bakura tore the price tag off the cuff of his new grey suit and took a breath.
"Car, check. Suit, check. Pegasus' whereabouts, check." Bakura nodded. "Okay. Let's do this." Bakura started up his car and headed for 3rd and 5th, the Café Grande. Time to con Hollywood's biggest producer into producing his film.