Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

KnightMask · (03-05-2013)

Scene Opens…

As the scene fades in from black we are met with XWF announcer Steve Sayors sat atop a large leather chair, his face looks a little panicked as he thumbs his way frantically through a clipboard loaded with papers, he arcs his neck and pulls the collar of his shirt away from his throat in an attempt to suck up air to his nerve ridden lungs…

Sayors: “I’ve had little to no time to prep this. I know nothing of the guy, no background, no history, hell I don’t even know how he’ll react to these questions … I’m setting this straight with you guys, I am NOT happy about this. I mean gentlemen, no rehearsal time? I ask you, is that a professional way to conduct an interview?”

Sayors’ moaning is cut short as someone from sound forces their way into shot and starts adjusting the microphone that’s loosely pinned to the lapel of his blazer…

Sayors: “My point exactly, rushing the sound check!? It’s amateur hour here, I bet Weinberg doesn’t have to put up with such treatment!”

Crew: “He’s a minute away Steve…

Sayors: “Steve? Bet Liz gets called Miss Weinberg! Hell, bet she gets called Ma’am!”

Off camera we here a door open and a murmur of voices develop from the norm of the off camera silence…

Crew: “Ah Mr Crooks, early as ever, my associate from Warfare mentioned how punctual you were, it’s a good trait to have, my Father was always a keen advoc…”

Crooks: “How long’s this going take?”

On camera Sayors adjusts his tie, it didn’t need adjusting, but his hands were flirting with anything to do, as the sweat that adorns his brow gives away the nerves that are pulsating through his body. He stands up from his chair…

Crew: “As long as all the questions get answered Mr Crooks, it could take no time at all. It’s just a small piece for XWF.com nothing more…”

Crooks: “And if I don’t want to answer the questions?”

Sayors offers an outstretched hand as Crooks forces his being into camera shot and returns the hand, they meet, Crooks’ enveloping Sayors’ and with a strong and firm jut of the arm the shake is complete. Sayors stretched out his fingers and hand with a smidgen of discomfort working its evil way across his face…

Crew: “Sound!? Get Mr Crooks mic’ed up, you answer whatever you feel comfortable with, you don’t feel the necessity we’ll cut and work from there.”

Sayors: “Your chair Mr Crooks…”

Sayors motions with his aching hand to a second leather chair that lies adjacent to his own, as the same sound guy hustles into shot and begins looping a microphone around the head and neck of Crooks, offering the battery pack to him to store away in his clothing as the pair sit…

Sayors: “See you dressed for the occasion!”

Crooks’ clothes are humdrum, half ruined denim jeans flailing at the heel end and a tatty Superdry hoodie in need a of surgical repair. The sarcasm in Sayors’ tone is met with utter disdain across Crooks’ face, a face that bears the results of a long drawn out fight, swelling to his lower lip, bruising to his eye socket general wear and tear that generates post fight…

Crooks: “Interesting attitude to give me … considering you’re you and I’m me, I suggest you tone your cheek down and go down the road of niceties, save me having to work up the smallest of sweats knocking your teeth down your throat!”

Sayors swallows a gulp of air and starts working his shirt collar from his throat and neck once more…

Sayors: “Can we get this going?”

From off camera...

Crew: “Yeah Steve, we’re all ready here, Mr Crooks, you good to go?”

Crooks: “Please, let’s get this over with”

Sayors: “Very well, and on mark ... … … mark!

Welcome one, welcome all to a thrilling exclusive for XWF.com. After an impressive debut on last week’s Warfare, we have with us a man we hope to maybe get a few answers from and maybe shed a hell lot more light on him as a whole, we have of course XWF newcomer … Owen Crooks”

Off camera the ragtag ensemble of crew clap and cheer, the condescending applause draws a look from Crooks straight down the camera’s lens

Crooks: “Suppose I should say I’m pleased to be here? … I’m not, how about you ask one of these pressing questions so I can feed the gossip mongers around here and on the internet and we can all go on our merry way safe in the knowledge we’re ALL happy!”

Sayors: “Huh!? OK, so Owen … can I call you that?”

A boredom and disdain fills his rebuttle…

Crooks: “Why not!?”

Sayors: “Owen, last Wednesday you endured a fantastic debut match against Sweet Cheapshots, you two put quite a battle on out there, I see the scars from that match still remain…”

Crooks: “Scars?! Scars?! SCARS?! You look at me and you see scars from that fight? Sincerely? See all I see from that match is bruising, contusions mild lacerations and swelling, all of which will heal … scars? Scars are more permanent, and there is nothing permanent affecting me from that fight.”

Crooks leans forward in his seat, his eyes transfixed on Sayors who begins to shrivel his way as small as possible into his chair…

Crooks: “Can the same be said for Cheapshots? I believe that answer is no, but it’s nothing physical that has scarred that man! Oh no, the scars I speak of, they sit well within his psyche, they are etched deep within that man’s mind.

You see it can’t be easy”

Crooks changes his attention from Sayors to the camera, the vexation clear to see on his face…

Crooks: “It can’t be easy for you Cheapshots, a man who surrounds himself with the fickle clingers on that you do, servants who hold fast to your coat tails in an attempt to feed somewhat off the fame and money you will make on your journey through the poisoned road of celebrity that you have chosen. It cannot be easy to feel what I know you felt that moment, the moment as I promised. That moment where you began to stir from your forced slumber, that moment where your eyes regained their worth and opened, and there you were, the realisation pulsing its way through your body, there you were as I had foretold, lay, back against the canvas staring up at the lights in the ceiling space.

As their light began to burn your retinas, as their heat began to scold every fibre of your body, it could not have been easy to realise that the followers you have assembled, the entourage you feed with wads of cash, your only friends in life … they weren’t there, you Cheapshots were alone in the world, and it dawned on you that that’s the way life is for you.

Just as Shakespeare’s Timon fell into a world of misanthropy, so your voyage began.

Without your glitz, without your glamour, without your unfulfilled shroud of acclaim you knew you had no-one, you knew deep down that the world you live in is fuelled by a desire to be needed. At the point your eyes opened, they opened in another way, the opened on your blindness to how life works. We’re alone in this world.

Your narrator, Timon’s poet!

Your spiritual guide, Timon’s painter!

Your assistant through life, Timon’s general!

And me? … Apemantus, the philosopher who told you, nailed the fact the people who surround you so, are not friends, nor be they loyal servants … they are sycophants, parasites, leeches to your life.

I’ve helped you Cheapshots, for when you came to from the Elementality, you awoke to reality, a reality you should be thankful that I have helped you ascertain…”

Sayors: “Can we move on to another question?”

Crooks bolts upright hurling an outstretched finger square into Sayors face, the red of his own, vibrant in the fake lighting being shed on the scene, the spittle pursed and injected with vitriol spraying from his lips…

Crooks: “YOU HAVE QUESTIONS!? YOU!? YOU’RE QUESTIONS ARE REDUNDANT! So sit there and shut the hell up!”

Crooks turns to the camera and encroaches upon it, it phases out of focus before fixating once more on Crooks and his dominance as he peers and snarls down the lens pointing into the abyss…

Crooks: “The only question that matters here is what I need to ask, and what I need answered. It’s a question for you out there too; you’re all involved in this. You may think you’re not as you sit consumed by your monitor, your only language spewed forth from a keyboard you hide behind, scared of life itself, see you’re part to blame for all this.

A circus needs an audience, something to gasp at the tightrope walker, something to roar at the trapeze act, something to guffaw over the clowns. For if the reaction isn’t garnered … the act dies. You’re a part of the circus people, you’re a part of the question that needs answered.

Why the hell am I here?

See I’m no tightrope walker, I’m no trapeze act and I’m certainly no clown …. I’m a wrestler. So why have I been hired by XWF? Why have I been placed amongst a circus?

For there are no real wrestlers here, just sideshows and attractions for you out there to coo over, talent of another kind fills XWF as they strive for celebrity. So the question has to be posed…

Shane

, why’d you offer me a contract?

Am I a project for you?

Am I an experiment?

Do you expect to see a change in me and my life?

Think on!

See already you’ve started forcing cameras down my throat, already you’ve placed me against fame hunters, and now you place me in an Extreme Rules match?

Extreme Rules?

I’M A GOD DAMNED WRESTLER!!!

I am not a sideshow, I’m a wrestler, I … believe this or not … wrestle!

So lay all the weapons around that ring that you want, a chair will not grace my palm, barbed wire will not be thought of in my match prep, brass tacks will not be present on the canvas when I end the match , for I have no interest in parlour games.

Crimson Deadly, you take advantage if you must, grab at whatever ‘prop’ the management want you to use to aid the injury of yourself and others, for the sake of feeding the cashcow that is the XWF fanbase. They’re using you Crimson, they’re playing you off against me in a power battle, forcing or hand to hold cast iron, machined wood or any other material manufactured and moulded. So you take advantage if you need to … I, the bigger man will resist that urge, I will fight amongst the armoury laid out before us, I will play to the rules written. I will hit the ring before a ten count, I will break the hold on a ropebreak five count, I will not engage you in acts of violence using weaponary.

For I don’t need to, and nor do I want to, as I am a wrestler, and what is being asked of me is beneath me.

, why did you bring me into your world?

I am The Element, the purest form of this sport, and your constant attempts to turn me into a storyline arc, cliff-hanger or jumping of a shark have not gone unnoticed.

It will not happen … let that be known!

Now get this mic off me and end this crap!”

Crooks flails his arm at the camera, as it shudders and shows us floor … ceiling … floor … wall … an unsettled Sayor before slowly fading it’s way to black

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Nobody's Fault But Mine ... {RP 1 Vs Crimson Deadly}
Author	Message