Post by Dionysus on Sept 11, 2016 16:58:37 GMT -5
[Scene: Dion's Office back at the Coliseum Gym. He is sitting at the desk with a bottle of whiskey, the room in disarray. Dion is slumped over on the desk. A knock is heard at the door.]
Necurat: *somewhat drunk* Go 'way. Dun wann' see noone.
[The door opens regardless of Dion's drunken protest. Albert Divine steps through the door, examining the state of the room, and the state of Dion. Shaking his head, he closes the door behind him, hanging his hat on a coat rack by the door.]
Divine: Well...I see we're doing so well to prepare for tonight.
Necurat: *picking his head up* Oh look. 'S Mr. Chuckles. Why dun you go fly a...I 'unno...a fuckin kite.
Divine: Very clever, you drunkard. *sits in front of the desk* You know I didn't have you sign a contract...just so you can drink Jameson on my dime.
Necurat: Then why'd you hire me ennway? Hmm? 'M not a goddamn carnie.
Divine: Because, my boy...I see potential in you. Or I did anyway. What I see now...is a whiny loser.
[Dion slaps his hands on the desk, apparently having sobered up from that shot.]
Necurat: I AM NOT A LOSER!
Divine: A LOSER DOESN'T KNOW WHEN HE HAS LOST UNTIL IT IS TOO LATE. Look at yourself; you've hit a string of losses and you're on the goddamn bottle.
Necurat: Maybe I just wanted a drink; did you think of that? Or were you too busy fuckin' the bearded lady?
[Albert slams his cane on the table; Dion recoiled, shocked to see a response like that.]
Divine: I chose you...because I knew you would be what WCF needed. I chose you because I could trust you to do the work that needed to be done. I chose you because despite your raw talent, you needed guidance and mentorship. But I can only do so much, Mr. Necurat. I bought your debt so you could focus. I helped train you so you could be a threat. Now look at you. Two losses, two REASONABLE losses...and you're sitting here, drowning your sorrows.
Necurat: You put your chips on the wrong horse, Albert. I'm a joke out there.
Divine: No one really thinks you're a joke.
Necurat: Oh? Then look at this.
[He turns a monitor toward Divine.]
Necurat: "Urban Gladiator Chokes Again." "Dion Necurat Missing Steps." "Why WCF Should Fire Dion Necurat." See this? This is what people talk about. Not my promos. Not my ring ability. But my losses. Each and every time I have lost, no one ever acknowledges my acumen in the ring. *stands up* Every step forward I take, fate forces me to take steps back.
Divine: What, you're going to let a few negative articles written by people who know no better drive you?
Necurat: I'm going to let what the people think of me drive me. I tune it out and let my work do the talking for me. That is what is important. However, how can I show them my skill, my right to be here, when the initial thought of me is, 'Look at him, what a joke?'
Divine: Give them reason. You have an opportunity to do so.
Necurat: What, against the cookie monster, Psychopomp?
Divine: No, against a man who is also as hungry as you are. You are both men on the brink. You are both hungry. You are both ready to start making names for yourselves in that very ring.
[Dion stares blankly at Albert, as though trying to read his thoughts. Then he nodded.]
Necurat: ...You're right. I have done too much to have my thoughts cloud my ring work. Psychopomp is a lot like me. We've both been injured and are both back in the ring to prove ourselves again. I won't lie; Psychopomp is a credible threat. He may be a comedian, but he can compete. His technical skill matches my own. His hunger matches my own. I intend to feed him humble pie. Tonight, that ring becomes our proving grounds. We will enter as warriors, as equals. Plenty rides on this match, and I must win. I will show the naysayers why the Urban Gladiator does belong. I will prove to the world that I am a very dangerous opponent when WAR comes around. But most importantly...I will do so because I must.
Divine: Ahh...there's the fire back in your lungs. But there is something you forget. You do not need to win tonight. Winning is not everything, my Liontamer. All you must do is deliver. Steal the show. Make sure your match is the match of the evening. And to make sure that happens...I will be there. I will stand in your corner.
Necurat: ...That may not be entirely necessary.
Divine: Oh, but it is. I want to see how this plays out, and whether you mean what you say or not. Now, go prep for your flight.
[Necurat nods, walking out of the office. Divine remained, pulling out a cellphone.]
Divine: *dialing a number, then waiting.* Ah yes, the man I wanted to speak to. I have an interesting proposition for you...
Necurat: *somewhat drunk* Go 'way. Dun wann' see noone.
[The door opens regardless of Dion's drunken protest. Albert Divine steps through the door, examining the state of the room, and the state of Dion. Shaking his head, he closes the door behind him, hanging his hat on a coat rack by the door.]
Divine: Well...I see we're doing so well to prepare for tonight.
Necurat: *picking his head up* Oh look. 'S Mr. Chuckles. Why dun you go fly a...I 'unno...a fuckin kite.
Divine: Very clever, you drunkard. *sits in front of the desk* You know I didn't have you sign a contract...just so you can drink Jameson on my dime.
Necurat: Then why'd you hire me ennway? Hmm? 'M not a goddamn carnie.
Divine: Because, my boy...I see potential in you. Or I did anyway. What I see now...is a whiny loser.
[Dion slaps his hands on the desk, apparently having sobered up from that shot.]
Necurat: I AM NOT A LOSER!
Divine: A LOSER DOESN'T KNOW WHEN HE HAS LOST UNTIL IT IS TOO LATE. Look at yourself; you've hit a string of losses and you're on the goddamn bottle.
Necurat: Maybe I just wanted a drink; did you think of that? Or were you too busy fuckin' the bearded lady?
[Albert slams his cane on the table; Dion recoiled, shocked to see a response like that.]
Divine: I chose you...because I knew you would be what WCF needed. I chose you because I could trust you to do the work that needed to be done. I chose you because despite your raw talent, you needed guidance and mentorship. But I can only do so much, Mr. Necurat. I bought your debt so you could focus. I helped train you so you could be a threat. Now look at you. Two losses, two REASONABLE losses...and you're sitting here, drowning your sorrows.
Necurat: You put your chips on the wrong horse, Albert. I'm a joke out there.
Divine: No one really thinks you're a joke.
Necurat: Oh? Then look at this.
[He turns a monitor toward Divine.]
Necurat: "Urban Gladiator Chokes Again." "Dion Necurat Missing Steps." "Why WCF Should Fire Dion Necurat." See this? This is what people talk about. Not my promos. Not my ring ability. But my losses. Each and every time I have lost, no one ever acknowledges my acumen in the ring. *stands up* Every step forward I take, fate forces me to take steps back.
Divine: What, you're going to let a few negative articles written by people who know no better drive you?
Necurat: I'm going to let what the people think of me drive me. I tune it out and let my work do the talking for me. That is what is important. However, how can I show them my skill, my right to be here, when the initial thought of me is, 'Look at him, what a joke?'
Divine: Give them reason. You have an opportunity to do so.
Necurat: What, against the cookie monster, Psychopomp?
Divine: No, against a man who is also as hungry as you are. You are both men on the brink. You are both hungry. You are both ready to start making names for yourselves in that very ring.
[Dion stares blankly at Albert, as though trying to read his thoughts. Then he nodded.]
Necurat: ...You're right. I have done too much to have my thoughts cloud my ring work. Psychopomp is a lot like me. We've both been injured and are both back in the ring to prove ourselves again. I won't lie; Psychopomp is a credible threat. He may be a comedian, but he can compete. His technical skill matches my own. His hunger matches my own. I intend to feed him humble pie. Tonight, that ring becomes our proving grounds. We will enter as warriors, as equals. Plenty rides on this match, and I must win. I will show the naysayers why the Urban Gladiator does belong. I will prove to the world that I am a very dangerous opponent when WAR comes around. But most importantly...I will do so because I must.
Divine: Ahh...there's the fire back in your lungs. But there is something you forget. You do not need to win tonight. Winning is not everything, my Liontamer. All you must do is deliver. Steal the show. Make sure your match is the match of the evening. And to make sure that happens...I will be there. I will stand in your corner.
Necurat: ...That may not be entirely necessary.
Divine: Oh, but it is. I want to see how this plays out, and whether you mean what you say or not. Now, go prep for your flight.
[Necurat nods, walking out of the office. Divine remained, pulling out a cellphone.]
Divine: *dialing a number, then waiting.* Ah yes, the man I wanted to speak to. I have an interesting proposition for you...
