Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Full Intensity Wrestling. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
The Running Free; H@VoK
Topic Started: Jun 30 2010, 08:23 AM (53 Views)
Minister Wighty
Member Avatar
Opossum Queen of FIW
Admin
As our scene fades in we find ourselves in a well-lit hallway. In the distance, not too far, we hear the sound of fabric on fabric. We are forced to follow it, as our decisions are arbitrated by a man holding a camera who works for a company that pays him to tape wrestlers saying things. Across this distance of well-lit hallway we hear Havok's voice ringing clear, likely due to a voice-over done in post.

Havok: Finally after two weeks of whining, Mike Harrison is gonna get what he deserves, and I ain't talkin' about the chance to face me one-on-one, mano-a-insano. I'm talkin' about the embarassment-level beating I'm going to tan into his juicy ass come next Sunday. See, what Mike seems to have forgotten is that this is my wheel... and by proxy MY match. I'm not gonna lose my own match, Mikey. No one is going to stop me from doing what I want, Mike... but I'll sure as hell be there to stop you from doing what you want. What can I say, I'm a dick like that.

The camera pans about in a vain pantomime of trying to find Havok in what is clearly an empty hallway. I said it was well-lit, didn't I? The fabric on fabric fwoompy-sound returns as Havok grows briefly quiet.

Havok: A month ago I didn't care about you. It's funny how some things never change, eh? But you sure have developed a hard-on for me. I barely find myself out of my first match with you and you're begging for my pert patootey on a platter. Sorry to disappoint you, Mikey, but I don't put out on the first date.

We pause for a laugh.

Havok: You seem to take offense to me "betraying" you in our first match together. I don't know why you've taken such a personal interest in this, especially since I already proved to you that I could kick your ass once. It's like you want me to punish you... that's not your thing... is it? Meh. Save the bedroom talk for the bedroom, I guess. Fact is, you were supposed to be my partner and you were boring, boring, BORING!! The stupid FIW management put me opposite Jenny and Anna and stuck me with YOU!? Ha! Like you're at all deserving of my company! You should be so lucky! Yet you call my decision to make the match more interesting a betrayal. You call it the "biggest mistake of my life".

The cameraman steps into a room where Havok is fluffing multicolored pillows. He tilts his head and cocks a brow.

Havok: Tell me... do I look like a guy who hasn't made a lot of regrettable mistakes in his life?

He shrugs.

Havok: Well, you said it didn't you? So obviously you must think I am. Lemme give you a little enlightenment. When I first raided my little sister's closet and started wearing her clothes and makeup in Middle School? Yeah, maybe that was my first regrettable mistake... but it was the road I chose to walk and I walk it proudly now.

He displays his painted face and fancy outfit with a flourish of the hands in evidence.

Havok: When I needed some cash after High School and signed up for testing out some experimental medication, an' the stuff messed with my head to the extreme point that my fucking moods can be color-coded? I'd say that was a pretty big mistake, too. But I learned to work with my emotions and use them in my favor. I've learned how to embrace the madman that is me and I'd say my win streak here in FIW is a testament to that.

He nods, then waves his hand as though chasing off a bad smell.

Havok: ... and don't even get me started on all the mistakes I made when I was the God of Magic. The point is, I've made some pretty critical errors in my time, but I've learned from 'em and grown. This? The suggestion that me pissing you off is the worst faux-pas I've pulled off? Bitch, please.

Havok shrugs and fluffs his pillow some more.

Havok: Maybe I shouldn't blame you. You are terminally boring, after all, but I just can't let this go. If I do you'll think you've won. You'll think it's acceptable to go around being as uninteresting and dull as you've been so far... you'll think you can make any demands of any people and they'll get fulfilled. You'll think that all of your wishes will be granted and all of your foes will be vanquished. You're a joke. I can't let you keep going on like this, Mikey. I can't allow the profession of Sports Entertainment to be besmirched by your decidedly un-entertaining drivel. I want ratings! I want fans! I want money! I want a box of those Oreo cookies with the coffee filling! Seriously, I can't find them anymore. It's maddening!

Havok pulls at his hair, eyes wide and bloodshot with need for cookie deliciousness. He calms down and smooths his hair back.

Havok: Look, don't take it personally. This isn't even an issue of business; it's an issue of amusement. You're nothing more than my weekly entertainment, Mikey. You're like a hooker with a special talent, like blowing bubbles with your vagoo or something like that. So I hope you enjoy this week. I hope it sets a new bar standard of entertainment for you to try and meet every time you feel the need to get on the mic and flap your stubbly jowls. You might think of yourself as a bit of an entertainer, but trust me; when I find people boring the audience is falling asleep! Your most intimidating schtick is two drops of piss in a bucket compared to the unbridled intensity these people are used to on a weekly basis!

Havok's features contort in clowny amusement and a sense of enjoyment over poking holes in Mike Harrison's logic.

Havok: I will say one thing, Mike. I'm utterly offended you'd suggest that an honorable man of my standing would try and fix this match to work in my favor. In fact, if I had any real hand in how our match would turn out, I'd stack the deck against myself! Have you not heard the words my opponents can barely scrape together about me!? I'm a raving psychopath! Loonier than a tune! Sometimes I take a big old hammer and hit myself in the face with it until I see widdle birdies! I could shoot myself in the face and all that would happen is it would get all blackened until you looked away. Then BOOM! Right back to normal. All this and more, because I'm "CRRAAAAAAAAAAZZZZAAAAAAAAYYYYY"!!! So just you wait until Sunday, douchebag! 'Cuz this is what's gonna happen to you... !

Havok picks up a pillow and begins tearing at it, but to no avail. Growing frustrated he begins to bite and gnaw at the thing, but it really only ends up getting moist.

Havok: Fucking... !

He finally throws it down and pulls out a book of matches, lighting several and throwing them on the stack of pillows he's made. It slowly catches torch and starts burning as a little polyester bonfire.

Havok: Aha! There! See? No matter what the situation, even against insurmountable odds, I can always just set you on fire or something.

Havok begins dancing joyously around the burning multicolored pile.

Havok: I'll run circles around you and make you pay for being such a waste of time! This week is your Final Four, kiddo, and I'm your Paula, Simon, and Randy... and uh, that Kara chick. And Ellen! I love Ellen... anyhow, I hope you redeem your shitty reputation after this week, Mike. Nobody likes you. Everybody thinks you're a big, lazy queermo who couldn't wrestle his way out of a bulldyke, a cross-dresser, and a mentally handicapped former diva. This week is a lesson about the industry, friend. EVERY week is good guy versus bad guy. EVERY week is is about getting the loudest cheers from the fans, and NOT every week you lose a match to an intellectual and strategic superior deserves a freakin' blood feud.

Havok brushes back the bits of his hair he'd pulled at, which had once again become disentangled from their ponytail as the flames behind him burn. His wide-eyed, tiny-pupiled stare at the camera stays dead center. There's no focus. No determination. No mercy. ... just pity.

Havok: Long-winded speeches do not an entertainer make, friend. I was trying to rebuttal your promo phrase for phrase, word for word... but you really just prattle on like an idiot about things. Who're you tryin'a convince, man? The audience? Me? ... or yourself?

Havok laughs.

Havok: It's just like that walking punchline, Neo Carner. These big bad superheroes just can't shut up about how great they are because if they stop for a second they might see all that weakness inside. I feel sorry for you, Mikey. You're going to get your shit ruined come Sunday and it's all because of your own actions and petty grudges!

Havok coughs into his hands and makes gun fingers and a goofy grin to the camera.

Havok: Now chew that forty times before swallowing, moonlight!

Fade.
[align=center]Posted Image Posted Image Posted Image Posted ImagePosted Image[/align]
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
« Previous Topic · New ReVolt Renaissance · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Black Water created by tiptopolive of the Zetaboards Theme Zone