….
Within a few minutes all the equipment and tools that are needed for the 'show' he was going to let his audience experience.
The stage was silent, broken only by the whisper of the audience in front of the stage.
His tools are simple - A pristine canvas loomed before him, flanked by an orderly array of paints and brushes.
At the judges' table, a different kind of skepticism simmered in the three faces.
Emilia's sharp gaze flickered with intrigue, while Orson's inscrutable expression betrayed only a faint tightening of his eyes.
However the most coincidence is the guest judge who attended today - Liam - wearing a stiff expression, masking his irritation.
"Mr. Regal." Emilia began, her tone polite but probing. "Could you explain your concept before you begin?"
Regal inclined his head, stepping toward the microphone. "Certainly. My piece explores transformation - from chaos to clarity. I will paint with both hands at once. It's unconventional, but I ask for your patience."
Orson's lips quirked. "Let's hope it's as compelling as your pitch."
With a curt bow, Regal signaled to the crew. "The music, please."
His request was immediately met as a melody of music began just as he already informed them beforehand.
The music continued in the backdrop as Regal picked up two brushes, one in each hand, and began.
The judges exchanged uneasy glances.
Emilia leaned forward, arms crossed, her scrutiny unwavering.
Liam's foot tapped restlessly, his boredom thinly veiled.
Orson remained statue-still, his unreadable gaze fixed on the canvas.
…Meanwhile the anchor, now a little far from center stage, relaxed and looked at Regal with an intrigued face.
With an almost casual air, Regal lifted both of his hands, each holding a brush, and began drawing in broad strokes with unrefined strokes.
His motions were erratic, almost childlike at times, sweeping the paint across the board with an intensity that seemed chaotic.
The strokes were uneven, some edges rough, some almost dirty.
It looked almost as though a child had been set loose with the materials, scribbling away in an unstructured frenzy.
But what caught the attention of everyone in the room was how Regal glanced over toward the judge's seats, particularly at Liam.
Every now and then, his eyes flicked back to the actor, perhaps drawing inspiration, or frustration, by the way Liam watched him from across the stage.
As the seconds ticked by, the image on the board began to take shape.
Slowly, but surely, the lines started to make sense.
The audience shifted in their seats, the murmurs growing as they began to piece together the image forming on the canvas.
The judges exchanged looks, their expressions a mixture of surprise, amusement, and a little discomfort.
"Is that…" Emilia started, her voice laced with disbelief as she processed the image.
"Is that... you, Mr. Liam?" Her tone was almost too calm, as if she were testing the waters of how far Regal was willing to push this.
The tension in the room thickened, the judges exchanging glances.
It was clear what Regal was painting.
The image of Liam, exaggerated and mocking, filled the canvas, and the silence hung in the air like a cloud.
It was a move that could not be ignored, a direct jab at the actor in front of him.
Liam's lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes narrowing as he watched the painting take shape.
He knew what Regal was doing.
This was no innocent drawing, this was an offense, a deliberate move to undermine him.
But Liam wasn't one to react immediately.
No, he had a better plan.
He would use this moment to his advantage, to turn the tables and make Regal regret stepping into his territory.
His mind raced with strategies.
He would make Regal look unprofessional.
The public would turn against him.
All he needed to do was wait for the right moment to pounce.
Emilia and Orson, however, were less than impressed.
Emilia's brow furrowed as she observed the painting, her eyes flickering with mild disappointment.
Orson, who had been quietly watching up to this point, was starting to look increasingly irritated.
He didn't like the idea of someone using the competition as a platform for personal vendettas, and this was precisely what Regal was doing.
The tension in the room was growing unbearable.
But Liam, ever the professional, took the lead.
"I think we should let him finish." He said, his tone sharp but controlled, as if implying that Emilia and Orson should hold back from pressing their red buttons.
He tried to sound reasonable, as if giving Regal more time was simply the right thing to do.
But in reality, it was all a ploy to let Regal dig himself deeper.
As Regal continued, the image on the canvas grew even more exaggerated, more comical, and more offensive.
Each stroke seemed to mock Liam further, and the audience, too, began to pick up on the animosity.
Murmurs spread among the crowd, their dissatisfaction palpable.
Finally, Orson couldn't take it anymore.
His finger hovered over the red button, and with a sharp motion, he pressed it.
The loud buzz cut through the air, signaling Regal's disqualification from this phase of the performance.
Liam, who had been watching with thinly veiled satisfaction, couldn't contain himself either.
He pressed his own button, a decisive move that solidified the sentiment in the room.
The atmosphere was tense, the murmurs growing louder, but Emilia remained still.
Her hand was hovering over the buzzer, but she didn't press it. Her curiosity kept her rooted, watching Regal's every move.
The seconds ticked by, and the room seemed to hold its breath, as Regal, undeterred, continued to work on his piece.
His brushwork was fluid, his focus unwavering, even as the murmurs from the audience swelled.
Finally, the last stroke came, a long, deliberate cross drawn from the top left to the bottom right.
Regal dropped the brush and stepped back, allowing the paint to settle.
The moment he turned around, the anchor was about to interrupt.
"So, are you finishe—"
But Regal moved faster.
Before the anchor could finish, Regal reached for a bowl filled with powder beside his tools and grabbed a giant chunk of it.
With a swift motion, he threw it across the canvas.
The powder cascaded over the painting, some of it sticking, while the rest floated and scattered in the air.
As the dust settled, Regal turned the board upside down, letting the powder mix with the paint.
The image slowly revealed itself in a new light, and as it came into full view, the audience gasped in collective disbelief.
What Regal had drawn was not a mocking caricature of Liam, but the image of a legendary figure, the iconic and revered actor and many - Stephen Hawking.
The crowd fell silent for a moment, processing what they were seeing, before an eruption of cheers and applause filled the air, drowning out the earlier discontent.
A young woman in the front row whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Wait, is that… Stephen Hawking? But it looked like Liam just a second ago…"
Her friend next to her blinked, still processing the rapid turn of events. "I can't believe it. He turned it all around. That was genius."
From the back of the room, a low murmur of approval rippled through the audience, growing steadily as they began to comprehend the intricacy of the art.
The sheer audacity of Regal's performance, the unexpected twist, left everyone stunned.
Even the judges were speechless, their reactions a mixture of shock and awe.
Liam's smirk faltered, his plan to undermine Regal dissolving before his eyes.
Emilia clapped slowly, a wide grin spreading across her face as she leaned toward the microphone.
"Well." She said, her voice carrying above the noise. "I think we just witnessed something extraordinary."
Regal stood still, a faint smile on his face, as the applause roared around him.
He had gambled, and he hoped he had won.
He had not only pulled off a spectacular piece of art, but he had also outplayed a person, turning a moment of tension into an unforgettable performance.
The anchor finally stepped back into the center of the stage, exhaling slightly before speaking. "That's… I didn't see that coming."
"It was supposed to be that way." Regal replied smoothly.
In truth, he hadn't originally planned to use Liam as a 'reference.' But that person had clearly been looking down on him, Regal could tell.
And if someone was going to underestimate him, he wasn't above turning the situation around.
The anchor, quick on her feet, shifted gears. "You and Mr. Stephen Hawking are close, right?"
It was a clever move.
There were plenty of people eager for any updates about the legendary figure. Since Hawking had largely withdrawn from the public eye after his retirement, even the smallest bit of news about him was valuable.
Regal nodded but answered carefully.
"We are close, but it's been months since I last spoke with him." His words were deliberate, a subtle way of stating that he had no insider information to offer.
It was also true; he hadn't spoken much with Stephen since [Following].
"But I am curious, Mr. Regal… Why did you choose Mr. Liam out of all the people here?" Finally, she steered the conversation to the real question.
Regal met her gaze, his tone measured. "First of all, I apologize if my actions unintentionally hurt anyone's feelings. That was never my intention. As for why I chose Mr. Liam, the answer is simple. He's the closest to my field of work. And while I know I am a lot younger, we look similar in age, and he seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't be upset over something like this."
Liam, the man in question, leaned back slightly in his seat, his expression unreadable.
Then, with a small chuckle, he spoke up. "Well, I won't lie - it was a bold move. But I will admit, I respect the confidence."
His words earned a ripple of laughter from the audience, easing some of the tension in the room. The anchor seized the opportunity to keep the momentum going.
"Looks like Mr. Liam is taking it in stride." She said, flashing a grin before turning back to Regal.
Surprisingly, Orson, the very judge who had dismissed him earlier, actually stood up and addressed him directly. "I owe you an apology. I misjudged you too early."
Regal simply acknowledged the words with a polite nod. He wasn't one to hold grudges, and frankly, he had already achieved what he came for.
However, despite receiving two red buzzers, which by the show's rules meant automatic elimination, the management clearly wasn't ready to let him go so easily.
Behind the scenes, producers scrambled to find a way to keep him in the competition. Eventually, they made an announcement, Regal was being offered a wild card entry, a rare second chance to continue.
But as expected, Regal declined without hesitation.
He had already accomplished what he came here for so he has no reason to participate.
With that, his journey on LA Got Talent ended in the semi-finals.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
Author Note:
Visit Patreon to instantly access +1 chapter for free, available to Free Members as well.
For additional content, please do support me and gain access to +10 more chapters.
–> p@treon.com/OrgoWriters