Post by The Predator on Jun 11, 2012 11:28:23 GMT -6
We see a tranquil locker room, immaculately clean and organized, the uniform and vaguely patriotic color scheme indicating its USPW status. The vague din that is occurring through the ceiling clues the viewer in: This locker room is beneath a crowd, and at Freedom. The scene is then shattered by the Predator, who storms through the door. And the through action is literal. The door quite literally evaporates into splinters and hinges and the big man walks beyond it's threshold. He is in an absolute fit, and rips a locker clean off a wall, throwing it so hard into the corner it reshapes like a Miata in a head on collision with a Mack. Next up is the bench, uprooted like an awkward tree, and broken in half. Predator ends his tantrum by punching a hole in the wall, and is then intercepted by Lana Honey, who tries to calm him down.
She grabs him firmly by the shoulders from behind, and he stops momentarily, the sound of his breathing filling up the room like the cage of a fired up, wild animal. He speaks, his voice tight with anger and impatience. "I had him. He was reeling on the floor, then that stupid music..."
She tries stop the conversation with a "shhh', but he continues to speak anyways. "No, I had him! Then I do actually get him later on, and I find out some asswipe has interfere and take my victory from me!"
Lana turns him around firmly. "You WON, Dylan. No DQ match. No excuses. You both played the game, he's the one who ended the night on his back."
Predator sighs, and seems to deflate a little bit, "There is a difference between a win and a victory, you know? A win moves you up the ladder, it gets you closer to the title, its something you do anything to get, its impersonal. A victory in this business, a real victory, means you've proven yourself better than the other guy. You beat him your way. Its absolutely personal. It feels like that got stolen from me."
She frowns. "And the brass didn't give you a rematch like you asked for, huh?"
The Predator begins to pace, tugging at his hair. "Nope. They want to move on to other things...Matt Hawk included. Of course he wants to move on. I had him beat and the heavens gifted him another excuse to rescue his ego. Wouldn't be surprised if this Dale guy actually worked for those boys despite it all."
Johnny barges into the room, seeming happy and excited.
"Another W, champ! And a match with Gravedigger next week! You beat this guy again, maybe it puts you in the title picture!"
The Predator slumps into a broken up wall. 'I didn't come back just to win another title. My pants don't need any help staying up, I've got more belts with gold on 'em then I know what to do with. I came back to settle old scores, exorcise old demons, wake up, feel alive. FEEL like a champion again. I don't feel like one right now. I feel robbed of what should have been the most satisfying moment of the last 5 years for me."
Johnny frowns. "Well, that's horrible, champ...Really...But we gotta focus on the Digger this week, man. We have to keep winning, or our position won't be too much fun."
The Predator just leaves, stalking out of the room, giving the wrecked doorway a strong shoulder block as he does, causing more debris to chip off. Lana glares at Johnny, and sarcastically quips, "Way to show some human compassion, John. I totally can't see those dollar signs in your eyes.", and she leaves.
Johnny looks after them, flabbergasted. "What did I say?"
His phone rings, and he pulls it from his pocket and answers the call.
"Yeah. Uh huh. I'll take care of it. Really. It'll all work out. You can count on him, and you can count on me."
He hangs up and exits the room.
Blackout
She grabs him firmly by the shoulders from behind, and he stops momentarily, the sound of his breathing filling up the room like the cage of a fired up, wild animal. He speaks, his voice tight with anger and impatience. "I had him. He was reeling on the floor, then that stupid music..."
She tries stop the conversation with a "shhh', but he continues to speak anyways. "No, I had him! Then I do actually get him later on, and I find out some asswipe has interfere and take my victory from me!"
Lana turns him around firmly. "You WON, Dylan. No DQ match. No excuses. You both played the game, he's the one who ended the night on his back."
Predator sighs, and seems to deflate a little bit, "There is a difference between a win and a victory, you know? A win moves you up the ladder, it gets you closer to the title, its something you do anything to get, its impersonal. A victory in this business, a real victory, means you've proven yourself better than the other guy. You beat him your way. Its absolutely personal. It feels like that got stolen from me."
She frowns. "And the brass didn't give you a rematch like you asked for, huh?"
The Predator begins to pace, tugging at his hair. "Nope. They want to move on to other things...Matt Hawk included. Of course he wants to move on. I had him beat and the heavens gifted him another excuse to rescue his ego. Wouldn't be surprised if this Dale guy actually worked for those boys despite it all."
Johnny barges into the room, seeming happy and excited.
"Another W, champ! And a match with Gravedigger next week! You beat this guy again, maybe it puts you in the title picture!"
The Predator slumps into a broken up wall. 'I didn't come back just to win another title. My pants don't need any help staying up, I've got more belts with gold on 'em then I know what to do with. I came back to settle old scores, exorcise old demons, wake up, feel alive. FEEL like a champion again. I don't feel like one right now. I feel robbed of what should have been the most satisfying moment of the last 5 years for me."
Johnny frowns. "Well, that's horrible, champ...Really...But we gotta focus on the Digger this week, man. We have to keep winning, or our position won't be too much fun."
The Predator just leaves, stalking out of the room, giving the wrecked doorway a strong shoulder block as he does, causing more debris to chip off. Lana glares at Johnny, and sarcastically quips, "Way to show some human compassion, John. I totally can't see those dollar signs in your eyes.", and she leaves.
Johnny looks after them, flabbergasted. "What did I say?"
His phone rings, and he pulls it from his pocket and answers the call.
"Yeah. Uh huh. I'll take care of it. Really. It'll all work out. You can count on him, and you can count on me."
He hangs up and exits the room.
Blackout