Hart.

Hart.

Don't we all have a heart? Are you tin men? Am I brainless? Dorothy! No place like home!!!!

*2 is sitting on a bench. The world around him is dark, only broken by a dim light from the camera, and the occasionally street lamp or parking lot light in the distance.*

Battle Royals are different. They don't always take heart. It's not even all that smart to use a strategy. To many different variables inside the ring. To many different bodies and mindsets. You can't force everyone to follow the way you want things to go.

But I can win. No matter what the Wizard says....Virus. I mean. Geesh. And people think I have a strange name, this whole place is a barrage of brain draining naming.

*2 pulls a flask from inside his jacket. He twists off the cap and throws back a swig. His whole body moves with the motion. A slow sway continues when he stops drinking.*

But in reality. The names don't actually matter. But we put so much into them sometimes. What really matters is actions. And some of us haven't been doing so well when asked to speak with those.
Yet I've been given this great chance. All I have to do is win. All I have to do is show them all that I really can be. Me?

Anyone want a drink?

*2 offers the flask to all the people not around him. He takes another swig. One of those comedy movie style hiccups happens suddenly. But he seems ok after. Except drunk.*

What?

*2 seems confrontational suddenly.*

I have had a few infections in my life.

Did you know my wife once cheated on me....with a woman? They even filmed it!

Anyways

*2 shakes his head. And then smiles.*

Listen here idiots. I came here to prove to myself that I still had it. And all I've done so far is put out valiant failing efforts. And it's time for that to change. It's time for everyone to take notice and pay attention. It's time You all took me seriously. No more of the same old shit jokes, they grew tired a decade ago. Come up with something new. Because insults arnt going to stop my from finally getting on the right track.

Things are in motion. Plans are loco-motivating.

*2 places both its hands on either side of himself.*

Woah.

*He pauses and takes a few slow deeps breaths.*

Dinner was almost in motion too for a second there.

*A sloppy smile takes over a slightly worried face.*

A lot of people are going to start talking. Saying they have what it takes. Or that they are that special one. The one who will win this match and perhaps even the Hart title. But they will all be wrong. No matter how they say it, who they try to belittle, or what they think they can do. It won't stop what I've set up no.

You see, maybe you can't go into a match like this with a single plan or strategy. But I have several. Ones that reach beyond that match. But a few of them hold no importance yet. So far I've focused simply on the ones that require my outlasting many bodies.

Shakespeares and Bacteria can spout all the lines they want. Cowgirls and Rebel alliances can do all the complaining they want. Ponies and....well let's just say....

You are all fucked. Every single one of you useless cunts is going to finally see what I've been saying this whole time. You will finally realize that you arnt on the same level of violence and pain as me. Because you don't understand. Because you couldn't possibly really enjoy all of this as much as I do?! Because it's not your blood I want for my art project. I had it backwards all along.

*2 sneers.*

It's MINE!

I will do everything in my power to fuck all of you up. Including causing great harm to myself to impart the same damage to you! I'm done playing paddy cake. I'm done playing touch football and capture the flag. It's time for some fucking Bloodsport action in this bitch.

*2 continues to sneer. Which looks a bit odd when he yawns.*

I have Heart. I have Brains. I have Courage. And I'll eat your fucking dog Toto too you pussies.

*He yawns again.*

God. Just thinking of all your bullshit words is making me tired. Wednesday needs to hurry the fuck up so I don't have to listen to you talk.
It's amazing how many people in this company seem to keep a bag a marbles in their mouths. Talking mush mouthed and cock filled. How many of you have soft palates? Hair lips?

Maybe you just have to many teeth? I'll see how many I can knock out at Warfare. Maybe creating some more room will let the words fall out in better shape. Or I'll just dent your skulls in until I find the OFF button. Both sound pretty fun. Everyone better start clicking their heels together and BEGGING to go home. There won't be any safe landings from this storm. I hope you all get crushed by houses.

*Another yawn. His eyes start to flutter a bit.*

Oh the fantastic violence to come. The screams and the agony. The sweat and the blood. And I'm not even talking about what I'm going to do to you fuckers. It's going to be a great time come Wednesday. A regular old party.

*2 softly smiles and nods. He leans over into a laying position on the park bench. His legs lifted up onto it as well.*

But for now......


*his eyes close. The camera fades out. The scene goes dark.*

Sleep.