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Shuddup, Dummy.
Topic Started: Mar 3 2009, 09:27 PM (47 Views)
Spann
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
[ *  *  * ]
So, Mister Smark.

Our scene opens on a pair of eyes. They're middle-aged and slightly sunken, and they're currently behind a pair of plastic safety goggles. The voice gives away the identity of the owner of the eyes, the wearer of the goggles.

It's Nick Allen, in case you haven't got it yet.


NA:We're in the business of tripping people over now are we? Of robbing me and the FIW fans of the ending we wanted, just with a simple flick of the leg?

As Nick has been talking, the view has slowly been zooming out, revealing Nick to be holding a gret big fucking sledgehammer. He is currently stood in a warehouse somewhere, a plastic shop's dummy lay on a crate in front of him.

Without another word, Nick raises the hammer high above his head, before smashing it down on the legs of the dummy, shattering the plastic into a thousand pieces in one mighty blow.

Allen looks down, happy with his work, before setting the hammer down and taking the goggles off...


NA: And I think that's enough said about that. There's more important things to worry about this week anyway, namely the ReVolt Rumble. Obviously, the powers that be aren't gonna be fair enough to just give me a second chance against Prime after Smark's little... contribution, they're gonna make me work for it. Now, it seems I will have to brawl my way through twenty something other guys 'n' gals before they'll let me pound the motherfucker in the face. People have spent all this week telling me I'm shooting too high, that mister big fucking dual crown champion has written his hitlist and that I'm the least of his worries, but I hope to fucking God he don't think like that, for his sake. See, the others might be more of a threat to his title, but I'm the biggest danger to his face there is at the moment, I can tell you that for fuckin' nothing.

Quick pause to cough, Nick clears his throat.

NA: But, it also seems that there's a chance I could have to defend the Flycore belt this week, should the unthinkable happen and I don't win. I'll be honest, It's hard to know what to prepare for when you've been told that you'll be competing in "A Rumble and... another match", and then you look at the frigging card and there's stipulations all over the place. For all I know I'm in a 17 man tag match featuring exploding turnbuckles, flaming Drake Loves and my boots filled with barbwire; I can't make head nor fucking tail out of any of it. All I know is that there's a rumble-a-brewin' once again, and once again, if I get my way, I'm gonna find myself right in the middle of it.

And with that, Nick picks up his hammer, and saunters away from the camera, whistling...
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I'm a helmet.
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