Post by genocide on Apr 12, 2006 11:47:48 GMT -5
(The scene opens inside of a hospital hallway. Genocide is walking, wearing a black suit and sunglasses with his hardcore title slung over his shoulder. He has a plastic bag with something in it. He walks up to a receptionist table, wear three nurses are sitting. They are all white ladies, maybe mid thirties and thin. They are wearing very loud shirts with fishes on them, as nurses sometimes wear. Genocide walks up to one, and waits. The ladies mind their own business, either talking on the phone are playing on the computer.)
Genocide: Ahemm.
(The fake cough gathers none of the ladies attention. Genocide taps a bell three times, before a lady looks at him. She has a smug look, and takes the bell off of the counter.)
Nurse: We're on break. Come back in 10 minutes.
(She points to a clock, which reads 1:15.)
Genocide: I just want to know where Darryl Black's room is. I'm visiting.
(The nurse and Genocide engage in a stare down. After a moment, the lady lets out a loud sigh and checks a clipboard. She looks back up at Genocide.)
Nurse: Room 18B.
(After she says it, she continues staring at Genocide. He backs off, and walks to an elevator. It opens. He steps in, and the lady looks away. Genocide gives the "Suck it" sign over and over silently as the door closes. Scene fades to black.)
(The scene re-appears with Genocide outside of a door. A nameplate next to it reads 18B. Genocide knocks in the door warningly before stepping in. He ducks as he walks through.)
Genocide: Knock, knock.
(A newspaper is covering a man's face. Empty juice cartons are laying, squeezed into tiny paper on the bedside table. The newspaper comes down, revealing a very old, and beaten look of "Dangerous" Darryl Black. He flashes one of his cocky grins, and begins laughing.)
DDB: Well, well, well! If it isn’t the hardcore champ himself! Take a seat, m'boy!
(Genocide takes a seat on a stool next to the bed. The two shake hands. Black has thin hair and is wearing a blue hospital shirt.)
Genocide: So, when the fuck do they let you out of this depressing hell hole?
DDB: I have no idea. Personally, I think the insurance company just wants to make money off of me. I feel fine.
Genocide: I tell you what, the more I come in here, the more I start thinking of sending those brain dead idiots of Mob Mentality here.
DDB: I caught Slam!, and I think you already sent them here. Nice work, by the way. Whichever loser actually steps up to the plate is in for some trouble.
Genocide: Yea, ain't that the truth?
DDB: Indeed.
(The two sit in silence for a moment.)
Genocide: So, I know that you got hurt, but how come they haven’t let you out? Did you break something?
DDB: Something like routine lab work. I guess it went wrong and they are waiting for the tests to come back, I don’t know that medical bullshit.
(Black scrunches his face and throws his hands forward.)
Genocide: Hey, I brought you something. Just a little time killer. I know you only get 5 fucking channels on the TV here.
(Genocide pulls the bag up. Black opens it and pulls out the movie "Pulp Fiction" Black begins laughing.)
DDB: That's what I need. This is a damn good flick.
Genocide: I thought you'd enjoy that.
(They put the movie away, and Black reclines his seat up more.)
DDB: So, this week, who got the short stick?
Genocide: Tommy Havock.
DDB: That punk? Oh, now you get to show the world who would've won the tourney and the gold! See? What goes around comes around.
Genocide: Yea, I can't wait to finally get my hands around this punk's little neck. And what a perfect opportunity for my in ring return. I will truly show the WCF who the man is.
(Black nods silently. He seems to have something else on his mind.)
Genocide: What's going on with you?
DDB: Nothing, I'm just thinking of the hell you'll unleash.
Genocide: (Uncertainly nodding) Yea, you know it. Look man, I got to go, I'll come back some other time. You make sure you get some rest.
DDB: Alright, thanks for stopping by. I'll be watching Sunday.
(Genocide exits the room. He walks over to a receptionist's desk. This time, it is a plumper female, very young. She has on a plain blue nurse's coat.)
Genocide: Hello, is there any possible way I can reserve a room?
Receptionist: Wow, I guess.
(The nurse is unsure and giving Genocide a quizzical look.)
Genocide: It's for a friend of mine, he might need to visit Sunday night.
Receptionist: (Looking down at a clipboard) Looks like we have plenty of room. I guess you could "reserve" a room, but if we need to use it, it won’t be available. What's your friend's name?
Genocide: (Smiling) Tommy Havock.
(Genocide thanks the lady and begins towards the elevator. It opens, and nobody is in it. Once he steps in, he takes his sunglasses off and looks into the camera. He has a very furious look in his eyes.)
Genocide: Well, well, well WCF, I'm back, and pissed off. I was screwed in my WCF title tourney match. It should've been me at Blast in the main event. I should have the WCF World and Hardcore titles in my possession. I came to the arena that night with one thing on my mind: the next round. I left with many on my mind, like beating the living piss out of the three assholes that put me and Black out. But first, I had to recover. I had to get cleared to wrestle after I was diagnosed with a mild concussion.
Well, I'm back and facing the man who put me out. Tommy, do you realize what you've done? You just awoke a beast. Tommy, this week, there will be nothing but pride on the line. So bring all of your boy toys from the Team of Treachery, or those to little clowns from Mob Mentality, I don’t care I'll beat them all. Just realize I don’t need a chair to beat you, just my fists.
(Genocide smashes his fists into his hands repeatedly)
Genocide: As for the locker room grumbling of my hardcore title, if you want come take it! Open challenge to any damn wrestler in the locker room who thinks they have what it takes to fight me.
(Genocide smirks and puts his sunglasses back on.)
Genocide: Tommy, how about you just quit now? Because once you face me man to man, with me conscious, you will realize that you have no strength to fight me. Your stomach will immediately begin the bunch up, all the energy leaving from your body. Come on, Tommy. Hit me, I dare you. Do it, you wont!
(The elevator dings and opens. Genocide begins to walk out, but before, turns around.)
Genocide: Remember WCF, Genocide's back. Genocide's not just my name, it's my game!
(Genocide laughs maniacally as the door closes and the scene fades to black)
Genocide: Ahemm.
(The fake cough gathers none of the ladies attention. Genocide taps a bell three times, before a lady looks at him. She has a smug look, and takes the bell off of the counter.)
Nurse: We're on break. Come back in 10 minutes.
(She points to a clock, which reads 1:15.)
Genocide: I just want to know where Darryl Black's room is. I'm visiting.
(The nurse and Genocide engage in a stare down. After a moment, the lady lets out a loud sigh and checks a clipboard. She looks back up at Genocide.)
Nurse: Room 18B.
(After she says it, she continues staring at Genocide. He backs off, and walks to an elevator. It opens. He steps in, and the lady looks away. Genocide gives the "Suck it" sign over and over silently as the door closes. Scene fades to black.)
(The scene re-appears with Genocide outside of a door. A nameplate next to it reads 18B. Genocide knocks in the door warningly before stepping in. He ducks as he walks through.)
Genocide: Knock, knock.
(A newspaper is covering a man's face. Empty juice cartons are laying, squeezed into tiny paper on the bedside table. The newspaper comes down, revealing a very old, and beaten look of "Dangerous" Darryl Black. He flashes one of his cocky grins, and begins laughing.)
DDB: Well, well, well! If it isn’t the hardcore champ himself! Take a seat, m'boy!
(Genocide takes a seat on a stool next to the bed. The two shake hands. Black has thin hair and is wearing a blue hospital shirt.)
Genocide: So, when the fuck do they let you out of this depressing hell hole?
DDB: I have no idea. Personally, I think the insurance company just wants to make money off of me. I feel fine.
Genocide: I tell you what, the more I come in here, the more I start thinking of sending those brain dead idiots of Mob Mentality here.
DDB: I caught Slam!, and I think you already sent them here. Nice work, by the way. Whichever loser actually steps up to the plate is in for some trouble.
Genocide: Yea, ain't that the truth?
DDB: Indeed.
(The two sit in silence for a moment.)
Genocide: So, I know that you got hurt, but how come they haven’t let you out? Did you break something?
DDB: Something like routine lab work. I guess it went wrong and they are waiting for the tests to come back, I don’t know that medical bullshit.
(Black scrunches his face and throws his hands forward.)
Genocide: Hey, I brought you something. Just a little time killer. I know you only get 5 fucking channels on the TV here.
(Genocide pulls the bag up. Black opens it and pulls out the movie "Pulp Fiction" Black begins laughing.)
DDB: That's what I need. This is a damn good flick.
Genocide: I thought you'd enjoy that.
(They put the movie away, and Black reclines his seat up more.)
DDB: So, this week, who got the short stick?
Genocide: Tommy Havock.
DDB: That punk? Oh, now you get to show the world who would've won the tourney and the gold! See? What goes around comes around.
Genocide: Yea, I can't wait to finally get my hands around this punk's little neck. And what a perfect opportunity for my in ring return. I will truly show the WCF who the man is.
(Black nods silently. He seems to have something else on his mind.)
Genocide: What's going on with you?
DDB: Nothing, I'm just thinking of the hell you'll unleash.
Genocide: (Uncertainly nodding) Yea, you know it. Look man, I got to go, I'll come back some other time. You make sure you get some rest.
DDB: Alright, thanks for stopping by. I'll be watching Sunday.
(Genocide exits the room. He walks over to a receptionist's desk. This time, it is a plumper female, very young. She has on a plain blue nurse's coat.)
Genocide: Hello, is there any possible way I can reserve a room?
Receptionist: Wow, I guess.
(The nurse is unsure and giving Genocide a quizzical look.)
Genocide: It's for a friend of mine, he might need to visit Sunday night.
Receptionist: (Looking down at a clipboard) Looks like we have plenty of room. I guess you could "reserve" a room, but if we need to use it, it won’t be available. What's your friend's name?
Genocide: (Smiling) Tommy Havock.
(Genocide thanks the lady and begins towards the elevator. It opens, and nobody is in it. Once he steps in, he takes his sunglasses off and looks into the camera. He has a very furious look in his eyes.)
Genocide: Well, well, well WCF, I'm back, and pissed off. I was screwed in my WCF title tourney match. It should've been me at Blast in the main event. I should have the WCF World and Hardcore titles in my possession. I came to the arena that night with one thing on my mind: the next round. I left with many on my mind, like beating the living piss out of the three assholes that put me and Black out. But first, I had to recover. I had to get cleared to wrestle after I was diagnosed with a mild concussion.
Well, I'm back and facing the man who put me out. Tommy, do you realize what you've done? You just awoke a beast. Tommy, this week, there will be nothing but pride on the line. So bring all of your boy toys from the Team of Treachery, or those to little clowns from Mob Mentality, I don’t care I'll beat them all. Just realize I don’t need a chair to beat you, just my fists.
(Genocide smashes his fists into his hands repeatedly)
Genocide: As for the locker room grumbling of my hardcore title, if you want come take it! Open challenge to any damn wrestler in the locker room who thinks they have what it takes to fight me.
(Genocide smirks and puts his sunglasses back on.)
Genocide: Tommy, how about you just quit now? Because once you face me man to man, with me conscious, you will realize that you have no strength to fight me. Your stomach will immediately begin the bunch up, all the energy leaving from your body. Come on, Tommy. Hit me, I dare you. Do it, you wont!
(The elevator dings and opens. Genocide begins to walk out, but before, turns around.)
Genocide: Remember WCF, Genocide's back. Genocide's not just my name, it's my game!
(Genocide laughs maniacally as the door closes and the scene fades to black)
