Post by C.J. Gates on Jan 12, 2011 23:49:22 GMT -4
(The scene opens up inside of a spa outside of the sauna. For a few moments, nothing happens but eventually the recently familiar Pookie LaBraun appears near the door. He looks down at his watch, and then leans against the wall. After a few more moments, the door opens and out walks Rico Casteel with a towel wrapped around his waist. He takes a few steps toward the locker room area when Pookie notices he has left.)
"Hey, big guy!"
(Rico scoffs under his breath.)
"Jesus...this fucking guy."
"Man, where have you been hiding? Been looking for you all over but haven't been able to find you."
"Can you at least let me get my pants on? I mean, Jesus man, let me get fucking dressed."
"Oh, yeah, sure."
(Rico walks into the locker room and Pookie follows. Rico reaches his locker and looks over at Pookie, waiting for him to leave, but he doesn't.)
"Excuse me..."
"What? I figured we could talk shop in here, hit two birds with one stone."
"You are a piece of work, aren't you? You and your damn cousin."
"We do have that way about us, don't we champ."
"So you heard?"
"Heard? Of course I heard. My client is a champion---"
(Rico holds up a hand.)
"I am not your fucking client man. Get that through your head."
"Semantics. Listen, we should do some P.R. for that thing, get the word out that you are the first ever IWC Suicidal champion."
(Rico shakes his head as he takes a seat on a nearby bench after grabbing a second towel from his locker to drape around his neck.)
"Pookie, what the fuck do you do with your life?"
"What? What do you mean, man?"
"I mean, you're fucking stalking me in a locker room after I just got out of the sauna. You've been stalking around after me for...how long now?"
"A month or---"
"Too fucking long. I told you years ago, I told you months ago, I told you weeks ago. Stay the fuck away, because I don't want you anywhere near me okay?"
"Pookie!"
"Jesus Christ.."
(Mookie LaBraun walks into the scene, wearing a terrycloth suit. He struts along the locker room until he walks up right beside Pookie.)
"So this is where ya been."
"Yeah, just talking to the champion here."
(Rico stands up and walks between the two, shoving Pookie into the wall.)
"That ain't no way to treat your manager."
(Rico spins around.)
"Caleb is NOT my manager!"
"Chill, chill. I'm just here showin' ma new client where to workout, y'know?"
"New client?"
"Yeah, man. He's right over there."
(A locker door slams and a tall, lanky black man walks into the scene, wearing baggy pants and no shirt, strutting more than someone would.)
"Who's this joker?"
"My name be T-Drizzle, bitch."
"Pardon?"
"T-Drizzle. And I hear you givin' my boys a hard time. I ain't havin' that, dawg, you feel me? These be my boys."
"You sure are a walking stereotype aren't you."
(T-Drizzle points from himself to Rico.)
"You hear that? Punk me pokin' fun. I ain't havin' that. You got beef with me, we throw down."
"What did I do to deserve this...."
"Because I'm T-Drizzle, bitch, and I be makin' it rain! I'll be seein' y'all later, I'm sure. Right now, I'm gonna hit the weights."
(T-Drizzle walks off, singing a little tune as he heads for the exit.)
"T-Drizzle, Drizzle, this cat's in the hizzle...."
"The two of you need to fuck off, okay? I've got to worry about shit that stacks higher than the two of you piled on top of one another."
"But..."
(The scene fades out as Rico gathers his clothes and slams the door shut, walking across the locker room out of view.)
"It's been about a month since I won the IWC Suicidal title, and nothing has changed. Do I care that no one has begun the hunt for the title? No. I can enjoy the fact that James Chambers is carrying the target on his back while I watch from the sidelines. Of course, it wouldn't be bad to have a bit of a friendly competition going on, but, hey, what can you do, right? I'm sure eventually someone will jump to the front of the line, full of unwarranted pride, demanding that they get a shot at the title. And when that time comes, I will not back down.
"But until that time comes, I am forced to feed off the dregs that are thrown to me. I am forced to fight people that Reginald thinks are suitable for a title shot. And this week, is the first challenger being thrown my way. It's the first time I will be tested by the people within the federation. Unfortunately, it's not even against people who were chosen to fight for this title at Massacre. But, I guess that's out of my hands really. While I would have preferred to reward someone for that hard work, beggars can't be choosers, right?
"Right.
"So instead, Reginald decides to reward Delilah with an opportunity to immortalize herself as a champion within IWC. To gain a little bit of redemption after losing out on her chance to become the Tap Out champion. But then again, who really cares about a title like that? Where true brawn and true power can not be showcased. Or, in the case of my title, where the hardcore nature can be unleashed. Where the normal man can go from nine-to-five Joe to a suicidal maniac.
"I will start off by warning you, personally, Delilah. See, lately I haven't really been myself. I've been getting myself caught up in things that I probably have no business getting caught up in. And right now? I'm kind of angry at myself for doing that. For costing someone an opportunity to win a match. Sure, I didn't feel like I was totally to blame but as I thought about it a bit more, yeah, maybe I was the one who took the wrong turn.
"And damnit, Delilah, I am not about to let that go that easy. Because, for some people, those sort of things need to be dealt with before they can plant themselves down and grow. Before they become something bigger that no one can control. So this week is when I am going to deal with it. And since I can't have myself standing across the ring from me, well then, I will have to make due with what Reggie threw my way. I will have to make due with the Libertine.
"The Libertine.
"If there was one place in the wrestling world where you could be accepted, it would be IWC. You might be a completely different person outside of the ring and away from the roaring crowds, but inside, in my house, thats where you shine. No restraints? No care for what you do? Excellent, because that is the sort of thing that is needed for this match this week. I'm sure by now you have realized that I am the sort of person who doesn't take anyones bullshit. That I am the sort of person who does what needs to get done regardless of the means. My size and raw power is just an added bonus to what goes through my mind.
"To all the things that I think of when wrestling is in the foreground.
"Sure, I used to travel the MMA scene, but that was years ago. And even though I still have the ability to duke it out with my fists, or take you down to the ground, using the environment that I have been thrown into is even better. Feeling my opponents crumble underneath of whatever I am using to bludgeon them is a fantastic feeling. And I will stop at nothing until that has been done. Because as the nickname suggests, I am not exactly on the tightest of leashes. I am not exactly the most sane person when stepping into the ring.
"But that's what makes this a great match. Someone who has no moral restraints, against someone who has no real lock on sanity.
"What fun this will be."
"Hey, big guy!"
(Rico scoffs under his breath.)
"Jesus...this fucking guy."
"Man, where have you been hiding? Been looking for you all over but haven't been able to find you."
"Can you at least let me get my pants on? I mean, Jesus man, let me get fucking dressed."
"Oh, yeah, sure."
(Rico walks into the locker room and Pookie follows. Rico reaches his locker and looks over at Pookie, waiting for him to leave, but he doesn't.)
"Excuse me..."
"What? I figured we could talk shop in here, hit two birds with one stone."
"You are a piece of work, aren't you? You and your damn cousin."
"We do have that way about us, don't we champ."
"So you heard?"
"Heard? Of course I heard. My client is a champion---"
(Rico holds up a hand.)
"I am not your fucking client man. Get that through your head."
"Semantics. Listen, we should do some P.R. for that thing, get the word out that you are the first ever IWC Suicidal champion."
(Rico shakes his head as he takes a seat on a nearby bench after grabbing a second towel from his locker to drape around his neck.)
"Pookie, what the fuck do you do with your life?"
"What? What do you mean, man?"
"I mean, you're fucking stalking me in a locker room after I just got out of the sauna. You've been stalking around after me for...how long now?"
"A month or---"
"Too fucking long. I told you years ago, I told you months ago, I told you weeks ago. Stay the fuck away, because I don't want you anywhere near me okay?"
"Pookie!"
"Jesus Christ.."
(Mookie LaBraun walks into the scene, wearing a terrycloth suit. He struts along the locker room until he walks up right beside Pookie.)
"So this is where ya been."
"Yeah, just talking to the champion here."
(Rico stands up and walks between the two, shoving Pookie into the wall.)
"That ain't no way to treat your manager."
(Rico spins around.)
"Caleb is NOT my manager!"
"Chill, chill. I'm just here showin' ma new client where to workout, y'know?"
"New client?"
"Yeah, man. He's right over there."
(A locker door slams and a tall, lanky black man walks into the scene, wearing baggy pants and no shirt, strutting more than someone would.)
"Who's this joker?"
"My name be T-Drizzle, bitch."
"Pardon?"
"T-Drizzle. And I hear you givin' my boys a hard time. I ain't havin' that, dawg, you feel me? These be my boys."
"You sure are a walking stereotype aren't you."
(T-Drizzle points from himself to Rico.)
"You hear that? Punk me pokin' fun. I ain't havin' that. You got beef with me, we throw down."
"What did I do to deserve this...."
"Because I'm T-Drizzle, bitch, and I be makin' it rain! I'll be seein' y'all later, I'm sure. Right now, I'm gonna hit the weights."
(T-Drizzle walks off, singing a little tune as he heads for the exit.)
"T-Drizzle, Drizzle, this cat's in the hizzle...."
"The two of you need to fuck off, okay? I've got to worry about shit that stacks higher than the two of you piled on top of one another."
"But..."
(The scene fades out as Rico gathers his clothes and slams the door shut, walking across the locker room out of view.)
"It's been about a month since I won the IWC Suicidal title, and nothing has changed. Do I care that no one has begun the hunt for the title? No. I can enjoy the fact that James Chambers is carrying the target on his back while I watch from the sidelines. Of course, it wouldn't be bad to have a bit of a friendly competition going on, but, hey, what can you do, right? I'm sure eventually someone will jump to the front of the line, full of unwarranted pride, demanding that they get a shot at the title. And when that time comes, I will not back down.
"But until that time comes, I am forced to feed off the dregs that are thrown to me. I am forced to fight people that Reginald thinks are suitable for a title shot. And this week, is the first challenger being thrown my way. It's the first time I will be tested by the people within the federation. Unfortunately, it's not even against people who were chosen to fight for this title at Massacre. But, I guess that's out of my hands really. While I would have preferred to reward someone for that hard work, beggars can't be choosers, right?
"Right.
"So instead, Reginald decides to reward Delilah with an opportunity to immortalize herself as a champion within IWC. To gain a little bit of redemption after losing out on her chance to become the Tap Out champion. But then again, who really cares about a title like that? Where true brawn and true power can not be showcased. Or, in the case of my title, where the hardcore nature can be unleashed. Where the normal man can go from nine-to-five Joe to a suicidal maniac.
"I will start off by warning you, personally, Delilah. See, lately I haven't really been myself. I've been getting myself caught up in things that I probably have no business getting caught up in. And right now? I'm kind of angry at myself for doing that. For costing someone an opportunity to win a match. Sure, I didn't feel like I was totally to blame but as I thought about it a bit more, yeah, maybe I was the one who took the wrong turn.
"And damnit, Delilah, I am not about to let that go that easy. Because, for some people, those sort of things need to be dealt with before they can plant themselves down and grow. Before they become something bigger that no one can control. So this week is when I am going to deal with it. And since I can't have myself standing across the ring from me, well then, I will have to make due with what Reggie threw my way. I will have to make due with the Libertine.
"The Libertine.
"If there was one place in the wrestling world where you could be accepted, it would be IWC. You might be a completely different person outside of the ring and away from the roaring crowds, but inside, in my house, thats where you shine. No restraints? No care for what you do? Excellent, because that is the sort of thing that is needed for this match this week. I'm sure by now you have realized that I am the sort of person who doesn't take anyones bullshit. That I am the sort of person who does what needs to get done regardless of the means. My size and raw power is just an added bonus to what goes through my mind.
"To all the things that I think of when wrestling is in the foreground.
"Sure, I used to travel the MMA scene, but that was years ago. And even though I still have the ability to duke it out with my fists, or take you down to the ground, using the environment that I have been thrown into is even better. Feeling my opponents crumble underneath of whatever I am using to bludgeon them is a fantastic feeling. And I will stop at nothing until that has been done. Because as the nickname suggests, I am not exactly on the tightest of leashes. I am not exactly the most sane person when stepping into the ring.
"But that's what makes this a great match. Someone who has no moral restraints, against someone who has no real lock on sanity.
"What fun this will be."
