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| Who Are You?; [Ash Koopa #2] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 27 2008, 12:55 PM (44 Views) | |
| Ash | Mar 27 2008, 12:55 PM Post #1 |
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Capt. Ash Kapow~!
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Gotta make a move to a town that's right for me. From a black screen, the scene drizzles in and gently sizzles on the stove - which is much better than a star wipe - for your viewing pleasure. With the scene in full view, the camera reveals a rather poor quality looking office, where the walls are covered with a dark red, varnished wood. The camera pans around various other dated pieces of furniture and decor, before settling on a pair of feet in brown shoes underneath a desk. Then, with one swift motion, the camera swings up to reveal Ash Koopa sat behind the desk, looking rather smart with a black, short-sleeved shirt and a yellow tie, along with a smirk on his face. To wrestling fans from six years ago, this looks to be a very familiar scene. Ash: "I don't want to do this; focus on one guy for a video segment. But really, I haven't been left with much of a choice. This guy, Blake, has been getting my back up for some time, thinking he's something special. I have no idea who he is, but about a hundred and thirty years ago, he built a sewage pumping station on the river Kennet and called it Blake's Lock. Then, thirty years back, he got himself a science fiction show on the BBC called Blake's Seven. I'm guessing he likes to throw his name around a little. And now, in the new millennium, along comes Blake's Orange, another nobody thinking they're the second coming of Gorgeous George, about to change the face of pro wrestling." Shaking his head, Ash manages to remove any signs of a smirk, instead showing pure pity for one of his five opponents for this Sunday. Glancing down at the desk quickly, Ash grabs a pen and scribbles something on a piece of paper, then picks it up and places it a plastic tray. With that out of that, whatever it was, Ash turns his attention back to the camera. Ash: "Now, I know none of those three things are connected, but I wouldn't be surprised if Blake Orange turned around tomorrow and claimed they were all his creations. All two of them.." Slightly confused by his own comment, Ash cocks his head to the left and stares upward for a brief second, then shrugs to himself and continues. Ash: "Blake, I'd love to know what was going through your head when you got your lawyer to sign you up with this promotion. Were you feeling antsy after twenty years by yourself in a little cupboard? At the 'tender' age of thirty-nine, you can't throw yourself into wrestling just because you feel like it. The only reason Liam Mortell can do it so well is because he's been doing it for years, and even he has to take a few weeks off between matches to allow his aging body to rest. And let me tell you this, Blake. There's a huge difference between this place and prison, that being you can't just walk in here and beat the shit out of someone to get respect. Right now, to everyone - not just me - you're nothing." Again, no sight of a smirk as Ash stares into the camera. Still a ' if can I be serious for a minute' expression on his face. Ash: "I could be out there with all the cheap floozies, making jokes at your expense and getting my lawyer to sort out my life. But, I'm not. I'm here in Reading, preparing not just for our match, but for the entire pre-show. Now, I'm not saying this to piss you off and get you even more wound up before Sunday night. Quite the contrary. I'm actually trying to help you Blake, because once you realise that the world of wrestling doesn't want you, I'm hoping you'll fuck off and leave all of this to the big boys. The ones who know how to rile up the world without having to misquote history. Y'know, the ones with talent. Like me." And cue the smirk. Ash chuckles to himself a little, then looks to continue addressing Blake, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door, which is just out of view. As Ash turns to his right with an impatient look on his face, a large, bulky man wearing black cargo pants and a tight red t-shirt walks into the shot. The man of mystery, with thick black hair curled up into a pompadour and a black goatee-moustache combination, looks to the camera as if expecting a round of cheers from a sitcom audience, then turns his attention to Ash. Ash: "What do you want, Maxx?" Maxx: "Sorry. Am I interrupting something?" Ash: "No, not at all.." Despite the dead-pan delivery, the sarcasm on Ash's face gives a different answer to Maxx Anderson's question. However, Maxx fails to pick up on it and pulls a seat up to the side of Ash's desk, much to Ash's obvious dismay. Maxx: "Listen, I had a brainwave a little while ago and figured I'd come and tell you about it before I headed down the Allied Arms for the afternoon. Seeing as you're a Reject and your buddies kidnapped the tin-hat guy, that leaves you in charge of things, right?" Ash: "He wasn't kidnapped, Maxx. We sent him on a package holiday to a deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean, where he can hunt giant rats and rust nicely on the sandy beaches. And no, we're not exactly in charge.." Maxx: "But you must have more power, right?" Ash: "I guess. What's this all about, Maxx?" Before answering, Maxx shuffles excitedly in his seat, trying his best to move closer to Ash whilst still keeping his bulky frame on the chair. Unimpressed by the whole thing, Ash rolls his eyes and looks down to another sheet of paper on the desk. Maxx: "You need back-up." That one sentence grabbed Ash's attention and brought his gaze up from the desk, focusing on Maxx's excited face. Ash: "What?" Maxx: "You and The Rejects, you need a little extra muscle. There are three of you in the group and, really, you need a couple more guys to watch your backs in the big match situations. I mean, with Drake Love returning, he'll be wanting your blood for beating the tar out of him last month. And Blake Orange's army of lawyers can't do anything if you have some guys watching your every move, ready to save the day." Ash: "Maxx, I really.." Maxx: "And just imagine how much more dominant The Rejects can be with five people, rather than three. There's more of you to run roughshod all over the rest of the roster. Picture it Ash; Kiyoshi as the Dual Crown Champion, Colbert as the Fighting Spirit Champion, you as the Undisputed International Champion and HiM and Krusher holding the Tag Team Championships." Holding his hands in the air, Maxx tries to help Ash picture a marquee with all of the Champions on. For a brief second, Ash stares admiringly at the imaginary marquee, but quickly comes to his senses and cuts Maxx a dirty look. Ash: "Did you say HiM and Krusher?" Maxx: "Yeah.." On that note, Ash sighs to himself. Ash: "Maxx, you know how I feel about those two. In the ring, they're tough as nails and could probably beat anyone in this company on any given day. But outside of it, they're like two big, drunken kids and I don't want to have to put up with that. It was bad enough last year in Vegas, finding them boozing in a different casino every night and trying to bet bottle tops. But there is no way that I'm taking them on the road with me to different cities across the world. They'd be a bigger joke than Dragon is and probably get me fired." Maxx: "That's a bit harsh." Ash: "Sorry, Maxx. Besides, even if I did like them, I'm not in a position to hire anyone to the promotion. That falls to whoever is head of personnel in this place." Maxx: "C'mon Ash, you owe me." Ash: "Hardly." A look of surprise and hurt crosses Maxx's face at that comment, prompting Ash to shake his head in a sign of regret. Turning in his seat to directly face Maxx, Ash leans forward slightly and stares into the eyes of his mentor. Ash: "The last six years, I've done nothing buy repay you for my debts. I got you a job in New World Wrestling; I even let you run the thing. I brought you over to America for every promotion I worked in over there. I even took HiM and Krusher out there as a favour to you. And right now, I'm paying you to help me with this show on Sunday, despite having unlimited access to all of FIW's resources. At some point, that debt has been repaid and we're equal." Maxx: "Yeah.." Ash: "But, bring HiM and Krusher along to the show on Sunday. It might be that I can get them a match before the live portion starts. I can't do any more than that for you." A half-hearted smile breaks on Maxx's face as he gets to his feet and pats Ash on the shoulder, then turns and makes his exit from the room. Ash watches his mentor leave, then focuses his attention on the camera. Ash: "How about that for news, Colbert?" Amused by his own comments, Ash throws his head back and laughs to himself. He quickly regains his composure and waves the camera off, then picks up a pen and starts to scribble on the piece of paper on his desk. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Ash looks up and motions for the camera to cut again, then returns to his paperwork. After a few more seconds, then camera cuts off and the scene turns to static, bringing it all to an end. [align=center]:: END ::[/align] |
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