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Irrelevance
Topic Started: Mar 19 2005, 02:25 PM (44 Views)
Wigumoto
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NPC
[ *  *  *  * ]
A piercing roar cuts through the darkness and into our ear drums as the scene fades in. We find ourselves in what appears to be the sick bay of the Freedom Hall in Louisville, Kentucky, and before us sits the source of that blood curdling scream. Chris Maclay sits on the edge of the examination bed, his right arm wrapped up as he clutches it to his side, no doubt still feeling the effects of Hype’s relentless attack last week. The resident doc fusses around him, trying to tend to his wound but gets swatted away by the good arm. By the doorway stands Maclay’s pirate P.A., leaning on the door frame with a “I told ye so” look plastered on his face.

Jayne: I told ye…

See?

Jayne: …Ye shouldn’t have been lifting weights with ya bum arm. Argh.

Maclay looks up through narrowed eyes, a low growl emanating from his muzzle.

Doc: You really should be resting that arm if you wanna wrestle next week.

Once again the Essex beast pulls his injured arm away from the prying hands of the doctor, snarling at him like a wounded animal as he does so.

Maclay: It’s fine.

Doc: It’s really not. Swytch is a maniac, and --

Maclay: Swytch is irrelevant. I got a match at Anarchy in a few weeks, ‘gainst the guy who tried to rip off my arm and the girl who tried to rip out my heart. Do you really think I give a toss about Swytch? Bandage me up and send me back out there.

The doc backs off, raising his arms in defence as he moves across the room to retrieve more bandages. Jayne pulls himself off the door frame and moves further into the room, coming to a stop in front of his boss and folding his arms across his chest.

Jayne: That psycho be mighty pissed at ye, for what ye did at Vendetta.

The injured beast cocks his head to the side, confusion taking up residence on his face.

Maclay: What did I do at Vendetta?

Jayne: Ye went ape poopy on him and bashed him with a chair.

The dawning of recollection fades onto Maclay’s mug as he remembers his actions of four months past, a slight chuckle emanating from his lips as he pictures the bloody pulp he beat Swytch into.

Maclay: Hehe, oh yeah. Wait, that was like, four months ago. Why’s he bringing it up now?

Jayne: Revenge is a dish best served cold, that’s an old pirate expression.

Maclay: First of all, it’s Klingon you moron. Secondly, I don’t care. So I roughed him up a few months ago, like I’m the only person to ever take a chair to his skull. Get over it. This is wrestling, tempers get frayed, people get hurt, and if he’s gonna have a cry about it every time someone crosses him, then he should think about a career change.

He hops down off the bed, still holding his arm as he comes eye to eye with his assistant.

Maclay: Swytch is irrelevant. I have other fish to fry, bigger fish, fish that need a good whooping. If Madison, in all her wisdom, sees fit to throw Swytch at me in order to resolve some long forgotten issue that’s obviously been bugging him for the past few months, then so be it. I’ll kick his ass, drag him to the curb and leave him there for the bin men. And I’ll do it one handed if I have to.

The doc approaches with a reel of fresh bandages, but Maclay once again swats him away and makes a bee line for the door. He disappears into the corridor leaving his pirate looking on confused and concerned. He shares a glance with the doc before heading off after his boss, leaving the scene to fade to black.
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