Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2011 10:03:21 GMT -6
Odyssey Arena, Belfast, Northern Ireland
The scene opens in a long winding corridor, doors dotted place meal across the length of the walkway as various crew members meander up and down carrying assortments of equipment and documents as they prepare for this weekend’s shows. A few moments pass before we see a familiar figure emerge from amongst the crew as Hannah walks slowly down the corridor, wearing a large pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap to avoid detection along with a small leather jacket, a lowcut top and a pair of jeans complete with boots. As she gets closer we can see that she is lost in her own head, patting her fingers lightly across the screen of her BlackBerry when suddenly Trish Newborn almost walks straight into her, frustration oozing from the Young Gun. Trish looks up, both barrels loaded to unleash on the unwitting victim of her wrath but before she says a word she looks up at a confused Hannah and slowly cools down.
Hannah : Hey Trish…. Is everything OK?
Trish shakes her heads, snorting a little as she tries to calm herself down.
Trish Newborn : The guy ate my ****ing salad!
Hannah is taken a back, stunned and unable to find the words to respond. Trish lowers her head, shaking it back and forth. Hannah begins to respond slowly, a little apprehensive.
Hannah : Who stole your salad? Where have you been?
Trish Newborn : Lex! He is a total pain in the arse.
Hannah cocks her head slightly, recognising Trish’s grievances as things become a little clearer.
Hannah : Oh, you’re settling in with the new guys huh?
Trish Newborn : Yeah, something like that.
Hannah removes her sunglasses, hooking them over the collar of her top.
Hannah : I suppose Roberto is still with them?
Trish Newborn : Last time I saw him, yeah. Listen, I am going to prepare for my match this week just…..keep an eye on Sense.
Trish walks past Hannah who stumbles quizzically over her words to enquire as to why she need pay attention to Lex before shaking her head and continuing down the corridor. Before long she makes it to the Young Guns locker room, opening the door quickly to find Andrew Jacobsen and Roberto Verona sprawled out across the room is seperate locations. Roberto looks up and puts down the magazine he was reading and sits upright as the other just stare in her general direction.
Roberto Verona : You found the place alright then.
Hannah : Yeah, it was the big ass building in the general area of the stadium. Oh, and I can read road signs.
Hannah sticks out her tongue as she makes her way over to the sofa Roberto was strewn across moments earlier, putting her bags down and sitting beside him.
Roberto Verona : You’re on form again.
Hannah : Always. I just saw Trish, is everything OK?
Andrew looks up at the mention of Newborn’s name but quickly falls silent as Hannah shoots him a “look”. Roberto looks at Andrew and laughs.
Roberto Verona : She’ll be fine, they were….bonding, that’s all.
Hannah : If you say so, just warn me next time before she nearly knocks me on my ass.
Roberto Verona : Sure thing. Listen, are you ready to go?
Hannah throws her head backs and sighs before looking Roberto in the eyes.
Hannah : I just got here! Are you serious?
Roberto cocks his eyebrow.
Roberto Verona : So you don’t want to be taken out? Oh well, suit yourself…
Hannah suddenly perks up and grabs at Roberto’s shoulder eagerly as he turns away.
Hannah : I never said that! Where are you taking me?
Roberto shakes his head and laughs.
Roberto Verona : I thought as much, it is a surprise.
Hannah sits up excitedly, clapping her hands with glee.
Hannah : I like surprises!
Roberto Verona : Then let’s get going, some fresh air will do me good.
Roberto lifts himself up, quickly followed by Hannah who quickly grabs her handbag, accompanying Roberto as he heads to the door. Suddenly he turns back round towards Andrew.
Roberto Verona : I will see you later Andrew, we’ll talk more about Collision when I get back.
Andrew nods his head in recognition as Hannah and Roberto turn and exit the room, the former chasing Verona excitedly as the scene begins to fade to black.
Roberto Verona : They call you the God of Xtreme? Really? You aren’t even the Altar Boy of Xtreme, Spike. You have more in common with the nut jobs holding placards aloft announcing the second coming of Christ than you do with any kind of deity and you are clearly just as deluded. When you have a moment to pull your head out of your ass and open up your eyes Spike perhaps you’ll stop spewing so much bull****? The simple, undeniable, unequivocal fact is this: Gods do not get pinned by a walking advert for Gonorrhoea and a dude wearing eye liner.
Oh, I am sorry, I forgot in your ultimate wisdom you have determined that it was actually me who got my ass handed to me by tweedle Dumb and tweedle Dumber and not your divine self. Unfortunately for you Spike, the reality of the situation is entirely the opposite of your rose tinted recollection. I know you aren’t the brightest spark plug in the engine but even you can’t be moronic enough to actually attempt to place the blame for your deficiencies on my shoulders.
Let me take you back to Collision last week Spike, because evidently you require further education. I launched myself across that ring and I tagged that very hand of yours. This made you the legal combatant, meaning that it was your responsibility to not be completely useless and find yourself being pinned. Sadly, your complete mediocrity shone through and you found yourself under the boots of Steve Awesome and before we knew it you had lost us the match.
Now what part of that do you find difficult to comprehend? In what world do I suddenly become the reason for our defeat when it was you who was pinned beneath the chest of a glorified gigolo who spent his entire week performing in a whimsical satire of an awful feature film. Christ, you valiantly lead us into an inglorious defeat at the hands of a man who married an inanimate object. I understand that you want to deflect the blame for your ass-clownery, but let’s be honest here, the one glaring factor for our loss was you.
You want to talk about A-Games? Which one did you bring, your Z-Game? You claim you’re going to give me a lesson this week? In what? Being a washed up failure? The simple fact is Spike that you can bring every game you want to the table this week, but I aren’t here to play games. I am here to take men like you, who have acquired undeserved acclaim, and beat the delusions of grandeur out of your over inflated skulls. Last week I barely got warmed up before you laid down on your back quicker than a common whore, if you manage to stay on your two feet for longer than two minutes this time around I am more than willing to show you what I can do, that is if Andrew hasn’t pinned you or your knuckle dragging comrade’s shoulders the mat first of course.
Frankly, the possibility of the match been all but signed, sealed and delivered before I even need break a sweat is hardly against the odds should Jacobsen wish to dismantle your two bit operation by himself. However, if he cares to share you both with me then I promise you that next week, you’ll be rushing through your Book of Excuses again to try and justify you’re latest mishap as you bitch and moan once more about how you really, really, are still relevant in 2011.
As for your pithy little put downs in regards to the Young Guns, I can hardly muster up a sentence between the gasps for air during the inevitable rib tickling your humorous genius has managed to conjure up. I mean, how can I possibly respond to the comedy stylings of “The Young Guns Died With Charlie!”, “The Young Guns Suck!” and my personal favourite, the horse molestation shtick. Thankfully for everybody you haven’t decided to hang up your boots and tear us away from your cosmic aura of joviality just yet, huh? Back in the real world however all I heard was “Wah, wah, wah, no really the Young Guns just do not matter anymore but….I….just….can’t….stop….wittering….on and on and on about them, despite the fact they aren’t worth talking about”.
You are just like the rest of the rent-a-promo no marks on the roster, you want to convince everybody that we just don’t mean squat but instead of just ignoring us, you spend half of your air time dedicating your insecure ramblings on the very people you claim you do not matter anymore to you or anybody else. Listen Spike, I get it, back when you were wrestling Tyrannosaurs the Young Guns compromised of completely different people who achieved a whole host of remarkable achievements but just because the trophy cabinet got a facelift it doesn’t mean it is now devoid of meaning. So you and everybody else can keep bleating on about how much they don’t care about us, but you are doing a really bad job of showing it.
The scene re-opens atop a large building a few streets away from Belfast Harbour. The sun is gentle setting in the distance, its warm orange glow rippling gently in the harbour. Below, car headlights begins to erupt, washing the roads with a patchwork of yellow as people slowly walk along the pavements on their way home from the trials and tribulations of the day. After a few moments we can see both Roberto and Hannah sat on a table close to the edge of the building, a few plates and glasses placed across the table. The pair are completely alone on the rooftop, save for a few seagulls which watch hungrily from afar for a moment to swoop down and claim a few scraps for themselves. Hannah looks out across the bay, pointing to something.
Hannah : What is that?
Hannah asks, forcing Roberto to adjust himself and lean over the railings to have a better look at where she is pointing.
Roberto Verona : That? That is the reason I picked this spot.
Hannah : What do you mean?
Roberto sits back down and takes a sip from his glass as Hannah begins to look confused.
Roberto Verona : Do you remember when we used to look through brochures after court? How we always wanted to take a few of the guys and go on a cruise somewhere?
Hannah : Yeah, I remember.
Roberto Verona : Well, you tole me about your love of the sea, and I remembered something when we got here.
Hannah : And what would that be?
Roberto Verona : If I said Harland and Wolff would that ring a bell….
Hannah hangs over the balcony, both her arms flailing as she runs through her mind silently. Suddenly, her eyes light up as she pulls herself back over the rails, staring at Roberto.
Hannah : You mean!?
Roberto laughs, putting his glass back down on the table as Hannah’s excitement becomes harder to contain.
Roberto Verona : Yep, that down there is the Harland and Wolff shipyard and the construction work down there is a renovation of the Titanic Quarter.
Hannah : You remembered that I have an obsession with the Titanic?
Roberto Verona : Hannah, every time we’d try and pick a DVD to watch you always picked Titanic, I know I get a few more blows to the head these days but I aren’t a simpleton.
Hannah : Can we go down there!?
Roberto Verona : Calm down, there will be plenty of time for that before we sail back to England. I have arranged a trip for when me and Jacobsen are done with Kane and Famularo. Don’t worry, you’ll get to see it before we leave.
Hannah claps her hands excitedly before grasping the rail firmly, staring back across the harbour. A few moments pass before she turns slowly back towards Roberto.
Hannah : Why did you do this?
Roberto Verona : what do you mean?
Hannah : I mean, why did you do all this?
Hannah motions around the rooftop, table and city landscape below.
Roberto Verona : To say thank you.
Hannah : What for?
Roberto Verona : Helping me win the X-championship at A Night To Remember. Sure, beating Todd was a foregone conclusion but without you I doubt I’d have been as focused as I was.
Hannah : All this for just that? Roberto that’s my job….
Roberto grabs her hand suddenly, startling her slightly.
Roberto Verona : And you do it very well. Don’t dwell so much Hannah, just enjoy yourself. The moment I saw we were heading to Belfast I booked this for you, just sit back and relax.
Hannah pauses for a moment and then nods, a smile slowly appearing across her lips.
Hannah : Thank you. Really.
Roberto Verona : My pleasure, and I even managed to avoid any jokes about your liking the Titanic because you like to go down….
Roberto chuckles as Hannah slap his hand with her free one, leading him to let go. Roberto leans back and smile, drinking a bit more of his wine as he looks out across the harbour himself.
Roberto Verona : If you can excuse me for a moment, I just need to make a phone call. Will you be ok for a few minutes by yourself? I know you can’t bear to be out of my presence for too long.
Hannah : Oh I am sure I will cope, thank you for your concern.
Roberto Verona : I will be right back, don’t go anywhere…
Roberto picks himself up, retrieving his phone from his pocket as he walks across the rooftop, shooing away the flock of seagulls which squawk in defiance as he waves his arms about. Hannah turns away looking across the city as the sun lowers further in the sky and the street lights begin to pepper the roads and parks. Sighing, she begins to talk to herself.
Hannah : I aren’t going anywhere. I just wish that all this was for something else….that you felt the same way I do. I never stopped loving you Roberto….
Hannah continues to stare across the cityscape, taking in the beautiful scenery as Roberto continues to talk to Andrew Jacobsen.
Hannah : Maybe one day…
Hannah begins to trail off, a few tears welling up in her eyes and Roberto begins to walk back over towards her, watching carefully for any vengeful gulls before reaching her. Noticing her distress Roberto places a hand on her shoulder.
Roberto Verona : Is everything alright Hannah?
Hannah sniffs and wipes her eyes, turning back round to smile at Roberto.
Hannah : Yeah…. It is just more beautiful than I ever thought it would be. It is sad that all that work was for nothing, you know?
Roberto Verona : Yeah….. Listen, me and Andrew aren’t meeting up until tomorrow, let’s make the most tonight whilst we can huh?
Hannah nods, wiping away the remaining tears.
Hannah : Sure.
The pair clink their glasses together as the sun disappear over the horizon. As they both begin to engage in conversation the scene begins to fade to black, leaving the pair to enjoy their evening.
Roberto Verona : Xander Famularo… seriously? You’re the guy who was running his mouth that everybody told me about? Jesus, when I heard that a rising star was gunning for my X-Championship I almost, I repeat almost, thought I may actually have to start preparing to defend my gold against somebody of merit. Then I heard that it was you and I realised I could go back to not giving two ****s about your very existence. I suppose I should be expected to afford you a far greater level of respect considering you are the 2011 Gladiator, the son of Gib and the half-brother of Zelda Knite, the most decorated wrestler packing ovaries in the history of the company.
The only problem is, I really couldn’t give a rats ass whose genes you share and the fact is that for all the effort you put in to getting your shot at Rob Diamond you completely failed to capitalise on it and you were completely overshadowed, once again, by your half-sister. There is absolutely nothing about you that is remotely remarkable and there is certainly nothing about you that leads me to believe that I have anything to fear should you really decide to come after my belt, by all means give it your best shot.
However, let me make this perfectly clear to you Xander, whilst your family has some sort of pull around here you are going to have to earn your shot at me before I consider letting you take a shot at me. I aren’t a complete cerebral failure like Todd Williams, I am not going to get drunk off grape juice and ring up Kelly Knite and offer up my title on a silver platter like a moron, anybody who wants to take me on is going to have to earn their contendership against an ever expanding roster. Now, before you claim I am completely ignorant Xander, I am more than aware that when you were playing dress up you wrenched the X-Championship from Joe Ragnal and already technically have a title reign under your belt, but this is a new dawn for you Xander and as far as I am concerned anything you did under that mask is completely irrelevant and holds no bearing on any ideas you have for me. If you still think you have got what it takes Xander, by all means pulls the relevant strings and get yourself into the mix, but until you do then forgive me for not being particularly perturbed by your perceived threat.
As for you little crusade to bring down the Young Guns, can I really emphasis the word yawn enough? Who are you, Todd Williams? Listen Xander, I am really flattered that you took the time out of your day to compliment my manhood whilst attempting to mock Andrew last week but the only person who ended up looking like a dick was you. Oh sure, you managed to pick up the victory in Swansea and I suppose you have to be given some credit for it, although I am sure it was just a momentary lapse of concentration on Andrew’s part, but the fact remains that you and Alex Jones got your asses handed to you last week.
Now, whilst I usually prefer to beat a man to a pulp by myself, I must say I enjoyed the team building exercise and if putting my boot through your skull constitutes as bonding then I am all for it. Is it a dirty tactics to utilise our numbers to overwhelm you? Sure. Is it stupid not to utilise our superior numerical strength? You are damn right it is. The time will always come for each of the Young Guns to prove themselves in single combat, I already have, but anybody who thinks we will not use our unity to further our dominance is misguided and perhaps a little bit too naive to be in this business. Todd learned the hard way that sometimes, you have to play dirty to get your point across and if you had learnt to keep your mouth shut then maybe you wouldn’t have had to learn the same lesson the hard way.
Now, if you can tear yourself away from another bout of terrible social satire and you father’s rampant xenophobia perhaps you and your partner Spike can muster up something that resembles a challenge for me and Andrew. I am more than confident that it will fizzle out, but let’s work on the principle that you may actually have an amoeba of talent somewhere inside your large frame and you will both last longer than a virgin with an unlimited credit card in a brothel. Let us both see just exactly what Xander Famularo is all about, show me exactly why you think you deserve anything resembling a shot at my belt, this is your chance to prove to me that maybe, just maybe, you deserve to be my first title defence.
Take this opportunity Xander, because if you fail you will simply go back to being another one of the nobodies back stage who likes to shout his mouth off but have absolutely zero significance to me. Just watch your back, because when you find yourself on the losing side I am quite sure you’ll be the next excuse on Spike’s resume.
Vive La Révolution!
The scene opens in a long winding corridor, doors dotted place meal across the length of the walkway as various crew members meander up and down carrying assortments of equipment and documents as they prepare for this weekend’s shows. A few moments pass before we see a familiar figure emerge from amongst the crew as Hannah walks slowly down the corridor, wearing a large pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap to avoid detection along with a small leather jacket, a lowcut top and a pair of jeans complete with boots. As she gets closer we can see that she is lost in her own head, patting her fingers lightly across the screen of her BlackBerry when suddenly Trish Newborn almost walks straight into her, frustration oozing from the Young Gun. Trish looks up, both barrels loaded to unleash on the unwitting victim of her wrath but before she says a word she looks up at a confused Hannah and slowly cools down.
Hannah : Hey Trish…. Is everything OK?
Trish shakes her heads, snorting a little as she tries to calm herself down.
Trish Newborn : The guy ate my ****ing salad!
Hannah is taken a back, stunned and unable to find the words to respond. Trish lowers her head, shaking it back and forth. Hannah begins to respond slowly, a little apprehensive.
Hannah : Who stole your salad? Where have you been?
Trish Newborn : Lex! He is a total pain in the arse.
Hannah cocks her head slightly, recognising Trish’s grievances as things become a little clearer.
Hannah : Oh, you’re settling in with the new guys huh?
Trish Newborn : Yeah, something like that.
Hannah removes her sunglasses, hooking them over the collar of her top.
Hannah : I suppose Roberto is still with them?
Trish Newborn : Last time I saw him, yeah. Listen, I am going to prepare for my match this week just…..keep an eye on Sense.
Trish walks past Hannah who stumbles quizzically over her words to enquire as to why she need pay attention to Lex before shaking her head and continuing down the corridor. Before long she makes it to the Young Guns locker room, opening the door quickly to find Andrew Jacobsen and Roberto Verona sprawled out across the room is seperate locations. Roberto looks up and puts down the magazine he was reading and sits upright as the other just stare in her general direction.
Roberto Verona : You found the place alright then.
Hannah : Yeah, it was the big ass building in the general area of the stadium. Oh, and I can read road signs.
Hannah sticks out her tongue as she makes her way over to the sofa Roberto was strewn across moments earlier, putting her bags down and sitting beside him.
Roberto Verona : You’re on form again.
Hannah : Always. I just saw Trish, is everything OK?
Andrew looks up at the mention of Newborn’s name but quickly falls silent as Hannah shoots him a “look”. Roberto looks at Andrew and laughs.
Roberto Verona : She’ll be fine, they were….bonding, that’s all.
Hannah : If you say so, just warn me next time before she nearly knocks me on my ass.
Roberto Verona : Sure thing. Listen, are you ready to go?
Hannah throws her head backs and sighs before looking Roberto in the eyes.
Hannah : I just got here! Are you serious?
Roberto cocks his eyebrow.
Roberto Verona : So you don’t want to be taken out? Oh well, suit yourself…
Hannah suddenly perks up and grabs at Roberto’s shoulder eagerly as he turns away.
Hannah : I never said that! Where are you taking me?
Roberto shakes his head and laughs.
Roberto Verona : I thought as much, it is a surprise.
Hannah sits up excitedly, clapping her hands with glee.
Hannah : I like surprises!
Roberto Verona : Then let’s get going, some fresh air will do me good.
Roberto lifts himself up, quickly followed by Hannah who quickly grabs her handbag, accompanying Roberto as he heads to the door. Suddenly he turns back round towards Andrew.
Roberto Verona : I will see you later Andrew, we’ll talk more about Collision when I get back.
Andrew nods his head in recognition as Hannah and Roberto turn and exit the room, the former chasing Verona excitedly as the scene begins to fade to black.
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Roberto Verona : They call you the God of Xtreme? Really? You aren’t even the Altar Boy of Xtreme, Spike. You have more in common with the nut jobs holding placards aloft announcing the second coming of Christ than you do with any kind of deity and you are clearly just as deluded. When you have a moment to pull your head out of your ass and open up your eyes Spike perhaps you’ll stop spewing so much bull****? The simple, undeniable, unequivocal fact is this: Gods do not get pinned by a walking advert for Gonorrhoea and a dude wearing eye liner.
Oh, I am sorry, I forgot in your ultimate wisdom you have determined that it was actually me who got my ass handed to me by tweedle Dumb and tweedle Dumber and not your divine self. Unfortunately for you Spike, the reality of the situation is entirely the opposite of your rose tinted recollection. I know you aren’t the brightest spark plug in the engine but even you can’t be moronic enough to actually attempt to place the blame for your deficiencies on my shoulders.
Let me take you back to Collision last week Spike, because evidently you require further education. I launched myself across that ring and I tagged that very hand of yours. This made you the legal combatant, meaning that it was your responsibility to not be completely useless and find yourself being pinned. Sadly, your complete mediocrity shone through and you found yourself under the boots of Steve Awesome and before we knew it you had lost us the match.
Now what part of that do you find difficult to comprehend? In what world do I suddenly become the reason for our defeat when it was you who was pinned beneath the chest of a glorified gigolo who spent his entire week performing in a whimsical satire of an awful feature film. Christ, you valiantly lead us into an inglorious defeat at the hands of a man who married an inanimate object. I understand that you want to deflect the blame for your ass-clownery, but let’s be honest here, the one glaring factor for our loss was you.
You want to talk about A-Games? Which one did you bring, your Z-Game? You claim you’re going to give me a lesson this week? In what? Being a washed up failure? The simple fact is Spike that you can bring every game you want to the table this week, but I aren’t here to play games. I am here to take men like you, who have acquired undeserved acclaim, and beat the delusions of grandeur out of your over inflated skulls. Last week I barely got warmed up before you laid down on your back quicker than a common whore, if you manage to stay on your two feet for longer than two minutes this time around I am more than willing to show you what I can do, that is if Andrew hasn’t pinned you or your knuckle dragging comrade’s shoulders the mat first of course.
Frankly, the possibility of the match been all but signed, sealed and delivered before I even need break a sweat is hardly against the odds should Jacobsen wish to dismantle your two bit operation by himself. However, if he cares to share you both with me then I promise you that next week, you’ll be rushing through your Book of Excuses again to try and justify you’re latest mishap as you bitch and moan once more about how you really, really, are still relevant in 2011.
As for your pithy little put downs in regards to the Young Guns, I can hardly muster up a sentence between the gasps for air during the inevitable rib tickling your humorous genius has managed to conjure up. I mean, how can I possibly respond to the comedy stylings of “The Young Guns Died With Charlie!”, “The Young Guns Suck!” and my personal favourite, the horse molestation shtick. Thankfully for everybody you haven’t decided to hang up your boots and tear us away from your cosmic aura of joviality just yet, huh? Back in the real world however all I heard was “Wah, wah, wah, no really the Young Guns just do not matter anymore but….I….just….can’t….stop….wittering….on and on and on about them, despite the fact they aren’t worth talking about”.
You are just like the rest of the rent-a-promo no marks on the roster, you want to convince everybody that we just don’t mean squat but instead of just ignoring us, you spend half of your air time dedicating your insecure ramblings on the very people you claim you do not matter anymore to you or anybody else. Listen Spike, I get it, back when you were wrestling Tyrannosaurs the Young Guns compromised of completely different people who achieved a whole host of remarkable achievements but just because the trophy cabinet got a facelift it doesn’t mean it is now devoid of meaning. So you and everybody else can keep bleating on about how much they don’t care about us, but you are doing a really bad job of showing it.
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The scene re-opens atop a large building a few streets away from Belfast Harbour. The sun is gentle setting in the distance, its warm orange glow rippling gently in the harbour. Below, car headlights begins to erupt, washing the roads with a patchwork of yellow as people slowly walk along the pavements on their way home from the trials and tribulations of the day. After a few moments we can see both Roberto and Hannah sat on a table close to the edge of the building, a few plates and glasses placed across the table. The pair are completely alone on the rooftop, save for a few seagulls which watch hungrily from afar for a moment to swoop down and claim a few scraps for themselves. Hannah looks out across the bay, pointing to something.
Hannah : What is that?
Hannah asks, forcing Roberto to adjust himself and lean over the railings to have a better look at where she is pointing.
Roberto Verona : That? That is the reason I picked this spot.
Hannah : What do you mean?
Roberto sits back down and takes a sip from his glass as Hannah begins to look confused.
Roberto Verona : Do you remember when we used to look through brochures after court? How we always wanted to take a few of the guys and go on a cruise somewhere?
Hannah : Yeah, I remember.
Roberto Verona : Well, you tole me about your love of the sea, and I remembered something when we got here.
Hannah : And what would that be?
Roberto Verona : If I said Harland and Wolff would that ring a bell….
Hannah hangs over the balcony, both her arms flailing as she runs through her mind silently. Suddenly, her eyes light up as she pulls herself back over the rails, staring at Roberto.
Hannah : You mean!?
Roberto laughs, putting his glass back down on the table as Hannah’s excitement becomes harder to contain.
Roberto Verona : Yep, that down there is the Harland and Wolff shipyard and the construction work down there is a renovation of the Titanic Quarter.
Hannah : You remembered that I have an obsession with the Titanic?
Roberto Verona : Hannah, every time we’d try and pick a DVD to watch you always picked Titanic, I know I get a few more blows to the head these days but I aren’t a simpleton.
Hannah : Can we go down there!?
Roberto Verona : Calm down, there will be plenty of time for that before we sail back to England. I have arranged a trip for when me and Jacobsen are done with Kane and Famularo. Don’t worry, you’ll get to see it before we leave.
Hannah claps her hands excitedly before grasping the rail firmly, staring back across the harbour. A few moments pass before she turns slowly back towards Roberto.
Hannah : Why did you do this?
Roberto Verona : what do you mean?
Hannah : I mean, why did you do all this?
Hannah motions around the rooftop, table and city landscape below.
Roberto Verona : To say thank you.
Hannah : What for?
Roberto Verona : Helping me win the X-championship at A Night To Remember. Sure, beating Todd was a foregone conclusion but without you I doubt I’d have been as focused as I was.
Hannah : All this for just that? Roberto that’s my job….
Roberto grabs her hand suddenly, startling her slightly.
Roberto Verona : And you do it very well. Don’t dwell so much Hannah, just enjoy yourself. The moment I saw we were heading to Belfast I booked this for you, just sit back and relax.
Hannah pauses for a moment and then nods, a smile slowly appearing across her lips.
Hannah : Thank you. Really.
Roberto Verona : My pleasure, and I even managed to avoid any jokes about your liking the Titanic because you like to go down….
Roberto chuckles as Hannah slap his hand with her free one, leading him to let go. Roberto leans back and smile, drinking a bit more of his wine as he looks out across the harbour himself.
Roberto Verona : If you can excuse me for a moment, I just need to make a phone call. Will you be ok for a few minutes by yourself? I know you can’t bear to be out of my presence for too long.
Hannah : Oh I am sure I will cope, thank you for your concern.
Roberto Verona : I will be right back, don’t go anywhere…
Roberto picks himself up, retrieving his phone from his pocket as he walks across the rooftop, shooing away the flock of seagulls which squawk in defiance as he waves his arms about. Hannah turns away looking across the city as the sun lowers further in the sky and the street lights begin to pepper the roads and parks. Sighing, she begins to talk to herself.
Hannah : I aren’t going anywhere. I just wish that all this was for something else….that you felt the same way I do. I never stopped loving you Roberto….
Hannah continues to stare across the cityscape, taking in the beautiful scenery as Roberto continues to talk to Andrew Jacobsen.
Hannah : Maybe one day…
Hannah begins to trail off, a few tears welling up in her eyes and Roberto begins to walk back over towards her, watching carefully for any vengeful gulls before reaching her. Noticing her distress Roberto places a hand on her shoulder.
Roberto Verona : Is everything alright Hannah?
Hannah sniffs and wipes her eyes, turning back round to smile at Roberto.
Hannah : Yeah…. It is just more beautiful than I ever thought it would be. It is sad that all that work was for nothing, you know?
Roberto Verona : Yeah….. Listen, me and Andrew aren’t meeting up until tomorrow, let’s make the most tonight whilst we can huh?
Hannah nods, wiping away the remaining tears.
Hannah : Sure.
The pair clink their glasses together as the sun disappear over the horizon. As they both begin to engage in conversation the scene begins to fade to black, leaving the pair to enjoy their evening.
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Roberto Verona : Xander Famularo… seriously? You’re the guy who was running his mouth that everybody told me about? Jesus, when I heard that a rising star was gunning for my X-Championship I almost, I repeat almost, thought I may actually have to start preparing to defend my gold against somebody of merit. Then I heard that it was you and I realised I could go back to not giving two ****s about your very existence. I suppose I should be expected to afford you a far greater level of respect considering you are the 2011 Gladiator, the son of Gib and the half-brother of Zelda Knite, the most decorated wrestler packing ovaries in the history of the company.
The only problem is, I really couldn’t give a rats ass whose genes you share and the fact is that for all the effort you put in to getting your shot at Rob Diamond you completely failed to capitalise on it and you were completely overshadowed, once again, by your half-sister. There is absolutely nothing about you that is remotely remarkable and there is certainly nothing about you that leads me to believe that I have anything to fear should you really decide to come after my belt, by all means give it your best shot.
However, let me make this perfectly clear to you Xander, whilst your family has some sort of pull around here you are going to have to earn your shot at me before I consider letting you take a shot at me. I aren’t a complete cerebral failure like Todd Williams, I am not going to get drunk off grape juice and ring up Kelly Knite and offer up my title on a silver platter like a moron, anybody who wants to take me on is going to have to earn their contendership against an ever expanding roster. Now, before you claim I am completely ignorant Xander, I am more than aware that when you were playing dress up you wrenched the X-Championship from Joe Ragnal and already technically have a title reign under your belt, but this is a new dawn for you Xander and as far as I am concerned anything you did under that mask is completely irrelevant and holds no bearing on any ideas you have for me. If you still think you have got what it takes Xander, by all means pulls the relevant strings and get yourself into the mix, but until you do then forgive me for not being particularly perturbed by your perceived threat.
As for you little crusade to bring down the Young Guns, can I really emphasis the word yawn enough? Who are you, Todd Williams? Listen Xander, I am really flattered that you took the time out of your day to compliment my manhood whilst attempting to mock Andrew last week but the only person who ended up looking like a dick was you. Oh sure, you managed to pick up the victory in Swansea and I suppose you have to be given some credit for it, although I am sure it was just a momentary lapse of concentration on Andrew’s part, but the fact remains that you and Alex Jones got your asses handed to you last week.
Now, whilst I usually prefer to beat a man to a pulp by myself, I must say I enjoyed the team building exercise and if putting my boot through your skull constitutes as bonding then I am all for it. Is it a dirty tactics to utilise our numbers to overwhelm you? Sure. Is it stupid not to utilise our superior numerical strength? You are damn right it is. The time will always come for each of the Young Guns to prove themselves in single combat, I already have, but anybody who thinks we will not use our unity to further our dominance is misguided and perhaps a little bit too naive to be in this business. Todd learned the hard way that sometimes, you have to play dirty to get your point across and if you had learnt to keep your mouth shut then maybe you wouldn’t have had to learn the same lesson the hard way.
Now, if you can tear yourself away from another bout of terrible social satire and you father’s rampant xenophobia perhaps you and your partner Spike can muster up something that resembles a challenge for me and Andrew. I am more than confident that it will fizzle out, but let’s work on the principle that you may actually have an amoeba of talent somewhere inside your large frame and you will both last longer than a virgin with an unlimited credit card in a brothel. Let us both see just exactly what Xander Famularo is all about, show me exactly why you think you deserve anything resembling a shot at my belt, this is your chance to prove to me that maybe, just maybe, you deserve to be my first title defence.
Take this opportunity Xander, because if you fail you will simply go back to being another one of the nobodies back stage who likes to shout his mouth off but have absolutely zero significance to me. Just watch your back, because when you find yourself on the losing side I am quite sure you’ll be the next excuse on Spike’s resume.
Vive La Révolution!