The Damned

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112- It's A Helluva Life - Deleted Scene/ Alternate Ending

Annie Lennox is beginning to fade out.  It’s the next day, in Stone’s apartment.  Stone is standing at a table, flipping through a stack of tabloid newspapers.  He picks one up and reads the headline.  “’My dentist is the Marquis de Sade.’  Take a number.”  He picks up a pushpin and turns.  Behind him is a map, with various colored pins stuck in it.  “Cleveland, Ohio,” he says, putting the pin into the wall.

“Well, well,” the Devil says, appearing behind him.  “Suddenly taking on the job with a vengeance, are we?”

“What do you think?” Stone asks, showing off his work.

“That you think you don’t need me anymore, which would be exceptionally foolish, even for you.” 

“Oh, come on,” Stone says to him. “What difference does it make how I do my job?  The point is, I work for you.  I do your bidding.  That much is clear.”  Stone turns back to his map, adding, “No matter who inspires me.”

“You are not to mention that ‘who’ to me again, do you understand?”

“Heaven forbid,” Stone mutters, ripping a story from the paper and posting on his wall.

“Watch your language,” the Devil snaps.

Stone turns back to the Devil, smiling now.  The first beats of ‘Jamming,’ by Bob Marley start up.  “Come on, sit down, take a load off,” Stone says.  “Grab a beer.  Let’s plan our next move.”  The Devil is more than amazed by this, and makes no movement.  “Come on,” Stone insists, gesturing to the chair and clapping his hands.

The Devil approaches the chair, picks it up and spins it around, as to sit backward on it.  Before he can be seated, Stone speaks.  “Oh, by the way.  I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” the Devil repeats suspiciously, suspecting a catch.

“Yes,” Stone continues, his tone sincere, and looking the Devil straight in the eyes.  “For letting me save Rosalyn.  You didn’t have to let me do that.  I know you could have prevented me from going back there, and I’m not foolish enough to think I could have possibly outwitted you.”

Stone turns back to his newspapers, but the Devil continues to stare at him, trying to figure out his motives.  “Oh, you are a crafty lad,” the Devil says carefully, “but I’ll accept your flattery, sincere or not.  I guess there’s no reason we can’t go on being friends.”  He sits down on the chair.

“Um,” Stone says mildly, “I think ‘associates’ is a better word.”

“Then ‘associates’ it shall be,” the Devil pronounces grandly.

“Well, keep the faith.”

“Welcome back, Ezekiel”  The Devil says as he reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a what he thinks is a handkerchief.  It’s actually a bandana… the same pastel colored one that we’ve seen the Angel wearing all day.  The Devil stares at it a minute… how did that get there?  He twirls it once and shoves it back in his pocket, staring at the floor, trying to remember about that bandana.

The use of his first name strikes Stone as odd.  Only one supernatural being called him ‘Ezekiel’ yesterday, and it wasn’t the Devil.  Stone catches a glimpse of the bandana out of the corner of his eye.  He freezes, not sure what he saw, trying not to be obvious about his gaze.  The Devil notices him anyway, and stares up at him, giving him a look, as if to say, “What?”  He makes a big production of stuffing a black handkerchief in his breast pocket. 

Stone turns back to the map, shaking his head slightly, trying to figure out what he saw and what is going on?  Behind him, the Devil disappears.  Stone sees he is gone and only shrugs.  No matter who was behind his day’s adventures, his job still has to be done.  He steps back, folds his arms, and takes a long look at the map.  Best to get on with it.