Post by Deleted on Jan 10, 2011 0:38:36 GMT -5
Thump...Thump...Thump
A slow and repetitive thumping sound can be heard faintly in the distance as the screen remains black. The sound, while both familiar yet somewhat mysterious, slowly grows louder in volume as if it is drawing nearer to you. Suddenly the thumping stops and the darkness is again accompanied by silence as you try and make sense of your surroundings. You reach out into the darkness with both hands, searching for anything that may be around you. You walk forward until your hands graze the rough, cool surface of a brick wall. You let out a sigh of accomplishment as you continue forward, keeping your hands on the wall for guidance.
*THUD*
A loud bump from off in the distance stops you in your tracks as you frantically look around into the darkness.
*SCREEEEEEEECH*
The high pitched sound of metal scraping across the concrete floor invades your head as you clutch your ears, trying desperately to keep the sound out. The sound grows louder as you push your back up against the wall. You begin swinging your arms out in front of you in a last ditch effort to defend yourself when the screeching stops. You stop swinging your arms and hold them up in front of you in a defensive position as you continue to look around. And then a booming, almost god like laugh blasts through the silence causing your head to pound in pain as your ears ring. You drop to your knees and clutch your ears as the laugh continues to penetrate your ear drums. Suddenly your surroundings are lit up by the blinding oranges and reds of fire as the silhouette of a man stands between you and it. The man lifts his arms above his head and you can see the silver glitter of metal in his hands as he swings the object downward toward you. You clinch your eyes shut and raise your arms above your head as you await the impact.
And then...the screen begins to shake violently as it slowly fades to black.
The scene opens up with a shot of a graffiti covered brick wall, lit up with the orange glow from a nearby fire. The camera pans down the wall toward the floor where a man lies facedown in an unconscious heap. The cameraman zooms in on a small pool of blood by the man's head, growing slowly as blood continues to flow from a wound on the back of his head. The sound of a throat being cleared from behind the cameraman causes him to spin around, where he comes face to face with Jay Price. Price doesn't say anything, but a bit of a smile comes over his face as he turns and walks toward a folding chair that is set up nearby. As he walks the cameraman takes notice to an aluminum baseball bat that Price is holding by the handle, letting the barrel scrape across the concrete floor.
The cameraman also takes notice to the trail of blood being left behind from the barrel of the bat.
And the blood splattered across the front and back of Price's sweatshirt.
Price takes a seat on the folding chair and keeps his eyes on the cameraman as he places the bat on the ground and pulls a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He pulls one out and sticks it between his lips before putting the pack back and pulling out a lighter. He flicks the lighter and lights the end before taking a nice long drag.[/color]
Price: You know, I never thought Seth Lerch to be the suicidal type. Sure, he's had his fair share of disappointments and heartaches. He's beat down by gang members, had his house blown up, had his company shut down and once he even had to go on a date with a giant hot dog. But even through all that, he always seemed to be "happy" in his own special Lerch way. So really, who would have thought all this time Seth was a ticking time bomb ready to self destruct.
Cameraman: Suicidal?
Price: Yes, suicidal. What other reasoning could he have for publicly admitting to be the one that caused the miscarriage of my child. His own sister's child. His own nephew.
Cameraman: Technically he didn't cause anything, Rage did.
Price: First of all, I don't seem to remember ever asking for your input. Secondly, Rage is nothing but a patsy hired to do the work of a spineless coward. Rage may have done the dirty work, but much like a pawn in the game of chess, he can't do anything unless someone else controls him.
Price lets out a slow chuckle as he takes another long drag of his cigarette.
Price: It was right under my nose the whole time. From the day that Shannan was attacked, Seth was right there beside me trying to help find the person responsible. He pointed me toward Malenko, then Gravedigger. And the whole fucking time the puppet master pulling the strings was right there in front of me. Bravo Seth, you got us.
Price takes the final drag of his cigarette and then flicks it off to the side.
Price: Yes Seth, you got us. You had us all believing that you were the innocent, loving brother that was seeking vengeance for his family. You pulled the wool over our eyes as you sat back and watched as everything played out exactly as you planned it. And why did you do it all? Because you wanted your own World Champion to properly represent your company. You ordered a hit on your own unborn nephew just to protect your company and your precious buy rates.
Price pauses for a moment to shake his head.
Price: I might be a sick, twisted bastard, but even I know that's something only a fucking psychopath could think up. A suicidal psychopath that is.[/i]
Cameraman: Suicidal. You keep using that word. Why?
Price: Why? Simply put, when Seth made that announcement he was putting a loaded gun to the side of his head and pulling the trigger. Which honestly, would be a hell of an option for him right now because what I have planned is....well let's just say that it'll make what I did to Logan look like network television.
Cameraman: Well then I guess you won't have to wait long.
Price: Oh? Why's that?
Cameraman: You mean you haven't heard about Slam and the main event?
Price: No.
Cameraman: You and Tank Reaper are facing Johnny Reb and Paul Dangerous for the Tag Team Titles.
Price: And what exactly does that have to do with anything that I've been talking about?
Cameraman: Seth Lerch is the referee.
Price, who had been in the process of pulling out another cigarette, stops and stares toward the cameraman. A bit of a grin comes over his face as he lights the end of the cigarette and takes a drag.
Price: Are you fucking serious? Is he seriously going to put himself in the middle of the ring with myself and Reb? He must be even stupi...
Price cuts himself off as his eyes open up wide.
Price: Son of a bitch did it again.
Cameraman: Did what again?
Price: It's like a magic show. The magician doesn't really have any sort of powers, he just relies on slight of hand. He keeps your sight over here while everything really happens over there. Seth, he's doing the same thing. He wants you all to think that he's going to do one thing, while really he's got his own plans in place.
Cameraman: And what exactly do you think those plans are?
Price: Who the hell knows what he's thinking these days. I figure he's either going to find a way to screw both Reb and I, or he's just going to have Rage show up with a chair. Either way, I'm 100% sure that this match isn't going to go down cleanly.
Cameraman: Well in the off chance that it would, what do you think about your chances?
Price: Pfft, the tag division is so watered down these days that it's a wonder we even have the belts around still. I mean really, we only have like two teams. Well one really, I don't think anyone counts the BTJ anymore. But back to your question about our chances, are you serious? I'm The fucking FUTURE of this business and Tank Reaper is the biggest, baddest, most coked up son of a bitch on this planet. If this was any other night and this match was legit, Tank and I would walk out as Tag Champions without breaking a sweat.
A groan coming from the heap over by the wall is heard and Price turns his attention toward it.
Price: Excuse me for a second.
Price reaches down and grabs the bat off the ground before standing up. He walks over toward the wall as the cameraman remains focused on the chair, not wanting to watch.
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
The sound of the bat hitting the concrete is heard, followed by Price walking back into the camera's view, a few fresh splatters of blood on his clothing. He takes a seat and picks up his still lit cigarette from the floor before taking a drag.
Price: Now where were we?
Cameraman: We were, uhh, just wrapping up the interview. Thank you for your time.
A grin comes over Price's faces as the cameraman quickly shuts off his camera.[/i]
A slow and repetitive thumping sound can be heard faintly in the distance as the screen remains black. The sound, while both familiar yet somewhat mysterious, slowly grows louder in volume as if it is drawing nearer to you. Suddenly the thumping stops and the darkness is again accompanied by silence as you try and make sense of your surroundings. You reach out into the darkness with both hands, searching for anything that may be around you. You walk forward until your hands graze the rough, cool surface of a brick wall. You let out a sigh of accomplishment as you continue forward, keeping your hands on the wall for guidance.
*THUD*
A loud bump from off in the distance stops you in your tracks as you frantically look around into the darkness.
*SCREEEEEEEECH*
The high pitched sound of metal scraping across the concrete floor invades your head as you clutch your ears, trying desperately to keep the sound out. The sound grows louder as you push your back up against the wall. You begin swinging your arms out in front of you in a last ditch effort to defend yourself when the screeching stops. You stop swinging your arms and hold them up in front of you in a defensive position as you continue to look around. And then a booming, almost god like laugh blasts through the silence causing your head to pound in pain as your ears ring. You drop to your knees and clutch your ears as the laugh continues to penetrate your ear drums. Suddenly your surroundings are lit up by the blinding oranges and reds of fire as the silhouette of a man stands between you and it. The man lifts his arms above his head and you can see the silver glitter of metal in his hands as he swings the object downward toward you. You clinch your eyes shut and raise your arms above your head as you await the impact.
And then...the screen begins to shake violently as it slowly fades to black.
The scene opens up with a shot of a graffiti covered brick wall, lit up with the orange glow from a nearby fire. The camera pans down the wall toward the floor where a man lies facedown in an unconscious heap. The cameraman zooms in on a small pool of blood by the man's head, growing slowly as blood continues to flow from a wound on the back of his head. The sound of a throat being cleared from behind the cameraman causes him to spin around, where he comes face to face with Jay Price. Price doesn't say anything, but a bit of a smile comes over his face as he turns and walks toward a folding chair that is set up nearby. As he walks the cameraman takes notice to an aluminum baseball bat that Price is holding by the handle, letting the barrel scrape across the concrete floor.
The cameraman also takes notice to the trail of blood being left behind from the barrel of the bat.
And the blood splattered across the front and back of Price's sweatshirt.
Price takes a seat on the folding chair and keeps his eyes on the cameraman as he places the bat on the ground and pulls a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He pulls one out and sticks it between his lips before putting the pack back and pulling out a lighter. He flicks the lighter and lights the end before taking a nice long drag.[/color]
Price: You know, I never thought Seth Lerch to be the suicidal type. Sure, he's had his fair share of disappointments and heartaches. He's beat down by gang members, had his house blown up, had his company shut down and once he even had to go on a date with a giant hot dog. But even through all that, he always seemed to be "happy" in his own special Lerch way. So really, who would have thought all this time Seth was a ticking time bomb ready to self destruct.
Cameraman: Suicidal?
Price: Yes, suicidal. What other reasoning could he have for publicly admitting to be the one that caused the miscarriage of my child. His own sister's child. His own nephew.
Cameraman: Technically he didn't cause anything, Rage did.
Price: First of all, I don't seem to remember ever asking for your input. Secondly, Rage is nothing but a patsy hired to do the work of a spineless coward. Rage may have done the dirty work, but much like a pawn in the game of chess, he can't do anything unless someone else controls him.
Price lets out a slow chuckle as he takes another long drag of his cigarette.
Price: It was right under my nose the whole time. From the day that Shannan was attacked, Seth was right there beside me trying to help find the person responsible. He pointed me toward Malenko, then Gravedigger. And the whole fucking time the puppet master pulling the strings was right there in front of me. Bravo Seth, you got us.
Price takes the final drag of his cigarette and then flicks it off to the side.
Price: Yes Seth, you got us. You had us all believing that you were the innocent, loving brother that was seeking vengeance for his family. You pulled the wool over our eyes as you sat back and watched as everything played out exactly as you planned it. And why did you do it all? Because you wanted your own World Champion to properly represent your company. You ordered a hit on your own unborn nephew just to protect your company and your precious buy rates.
Price pauses for a moment to shake his head.
Price: I might be a sick, twisted bastard, but even I know that's something only a fucking psychopath could think up. A suicidal psychopath that is.[/i]
Cameraman: Suicidal. You keep using that word. Why?
Price: Why? Simply put, when Seth made that announcement he was putting a loaded gun to the side of his head and pulling the trigger. Which honestly, would be a hell of an option for him right now because what I have planned is....well let's just say that it'll make what I did to Logan look like network television.
Cameraman: Well then I guess you won't have to wait long.
Price: Oh? Why's that?
Cameraman: You mean you haven't heard about Slam and the main event?
Price: No.
Cameraman: You and Tank Reaper are facing Johnny Reb and Paul Dangerous for the Tag Team Titles.
Price: And what exactly does that have to do with anything that I've been talking about?
Cameraman: Seth Lerch is the referee.
Price, who had been in the process of pulling out another cigarette, stops and stares toward the cameraman. A bit of a grin comes over his face as he lights the end of the cigarette and takes a drag.
Price: Are you fucking serious? Is he seriously going to put himself in the middle of the ring with myself and Reb? He must be even stupi...
Price cuts himself off as his eyes open up wide.
Price: Son of a bitch did it again.
Cameraman: Did what again?
Price: It's like a magic show. The magician doesn't really have any sort of powers, he just relies on slight of hand. He keeps your sight over here while everything really happens over there. Seth, he's doing the same thing. He wants you all to think that he's going to do one thing, while really he's got his own plans in place.
Cameraman: And what exactly do you think those plans are?
Price: Who the hell knows what he's thinking these days. I figure he's either going to find a way to screw both Reb and I, or he's just going to have Rage show up with a chair. Either way, I'm 100% sure that this match isn't going to go down cleanly.
Cameraman: Well in the off chance that it would, what do you think about your chances?
Price: Pfft, the tag division is so watered down these days that it's a wonder we even have the belts around still. I mean really, we only have like two teams. Well one really, I don't think anyone counts the BTJ anymore. But back to your question about our chances, are you serious? I'm The fucking FUTURE of this business and Tank Reaper is the biggest, baddest, most coked up son of a bitch on this planet. If this was any other night and this match was legit, Tank and I would walk out as Tag Champions without breaking a sweat.
A groan coming from the heap over by the wall is heard and Price turns his attention toward it.
Price: Excuse me for a second.
Price reaches down and grabs the bat off the ground before standing up. He walks over toward the wall as the cameraman remains focused on the chair, not wanting to watch.
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
The sound of the bat hitting the concrete is heard, followed by Price walking back into the camera's view, a few fresh splatters of blood on his clothing. He takes a seat and picks up his still lit cigarette from the floor before taking a drag.
Price: Now where were we?
Cameraman: We were, uhh, just wrapping up the interview. Thank you for your time.
A grin comes over Price's faces as the cameraman quickly shuts off his camera.[/i]
