Post by The Brothers Holland on Aug 29, 2007 7:47:45 GMT -6
*A dirty gym. Not the best opening to a roleplay but it has a kind of rustic charm about it. The orange glow of the sunlight comes through from not just the large cracked windows but also the hole in the roof. The sounds of a man inhaling and exhaling can be heard. Heavy breathing.. as if the man is being put under, or is putting himself under, a great amount of exertion.
A slap is heard. The sound of the mans feet dropping and hitting the floor from a slight height. The camera finds the man in the room through the light, made all the more obstructive by the heavy mist of dust in the air. The man stands beneath a bar obviously having been doing chin ups on it. He wipes his brow, flicking his hair from his face, only to have it fall in the same place again. He smirks to himself.*
Dave: Maybe there's some things you can't control after all.
*The camera finds an angle where we can see Dave Holland clearly. He turns and leans on the apron of the ring. He knows the camera's there and talks to it without looking at it.*
Dave: I'm not talking about Spike, nor the match with Spike. The same may be true of Spike but it's not him I mean. I won't begrudge him the win. I'm sure he understands that it wasn't the fair or true result but I know if I'd had the same opportunity I'd have taken it just like he did. I took my eye off the ball... just as Milo did when he got himself thrown out. I brought Milo down to that ring with the intention of having him keep anyone out of that match who wanted to interfere. He had other intentions it seems. Without him I could be distracted... I could be interfered with... and I was. I hope Spike's man enough to offer me a rematch the next time we each have a clearing in our schedules... seems I have something to prove that otherwise could be held against me. Still... I won't dwell on it. Move on I say... and I know exactly who to.
*Dave takes a water bottle and swigs on it*
Dave: Robert Pliskin. Mind if I call you Bob? In fact you know what? I don't really care if you mind or not... you threw away all rights to respect when you grabbed my foot and waved that piece of trash in my face. I'm not talking about the stars and stripes... I'm talking about your flag. Your flag. You took what's otherwise a symbol of a country of freedom and justice and you turned it into a mockery of everything your nation stands for. But then you don't stand for that nation do you. You stand for your own nation that you think's the same thing. Problem is... you claim to be president.. a title I won't recognise nor respect. Last I checked the president was George W. Bush and while he may not be a saint he's a hell of a lot better than you, you worthless piece of gutter worshiping trash!
*Dave throws the water bottle at the wall and a loud crash is heard as it makes contact. Dave is now angry and shouting right down the camera*
Dave: What right do you have?! By what divine right do you presume to come into my life unasked for... uncalled for... and start waving your flag in my business?! Have I done something to you Bob? Have I done something to offend you in some profound way that only you seem to have noticed? Tell me Bob what is it? So far in this place I've done.. what? Four things? Been beaten by Craven... been beaten down by Taft... come back and beaten Blaze and Jenkins in the same match.. and now been beaten by Spike! Where in there is anything that you would have issue with? Can't be my nationality because I'm not an enemy of America... can't be my economic prowess because all of my stock and holdings are held on American soil so tell me Bob just how have I wronged you that warranted your interference?
*Dave holds his arms wide apart as if asking for an answer. Naturally there isn't one as it's not like Robert Pliskin's right there. Dave nonetheless seems to calm down.*
Dave: You know what though Bob? I don't care for your reasons. Does a lion explain to the mother gazelle why it's eating it's child? No. Bad things happen and you took a chance to get your face on TV. To get yourself some airtime. You succeeded. Well done. But now you've got a bigger problem. You've gotten yourself booked into the schedule right at the front. You cornered yourself a private session.. 1 on 1 with David... Gareth... Holland. You know what I intend to do during our session Bob? I'm going to take your arrogant, self obsessed self and turn it inside out. I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life... bring you back from the brink and then shatter every remnant of hope that might have entered that disgusting mind of yours. I don't care that you're taller or heavier than me... size has never phased me before and it won't again. Long bones break just as easily as short ones and I'm going to disassemble each and every part of you.
*Dave turns from the camera and goes to a punch bag and starts beating into it gently.. warming up for a more vigorous work-out*
Dave: But why would I aim for such painful feats of anguish on a man who merely cost me a match against one of my oldest acquaintances.. friends even. That's never bothered me in the past like a number of other men. Why should I only now be upset and agry at sucha consequence? Because this isn't an isolated event. This is the second time in about a month that I've been assaulted for no reason whatsoever. I must be sending out some kind of vibe saying 'Here I am.. come and get me while I'm weakened and distracted by a match I'm fighting in at this very moment'. I thought having Milo nearby would be enough but he's not really trained as a bodyguard... and that's what I need.
*The camera switches to a pair of feet. They're wearing a pair of white shoes that look like a pair of sporting boots... which sport we don't know yet.*
Dave: So that's exactly what I've brought. I know this man very well. He's worked with me before and he has never let me down... ever.
*The camera now shows the mans trousers. They're black with laces at the middle at the top instead of a zipper, almost like football pants.*
Dave: He originated from the world of college football where he was a star linebacker. His job was to take down people advancing relentlessly and he excelled at this wonderfully. This isn't however where I first came across him.
*The camera shows the football shirt the man is wearing. He also seems to be wearing pads underneath. The shirt is red with white lettering that shows only the number. '56'.*
Dave: He progressed to the world of office relations. Making sure the staff were working at their peak level at all hours of the day. He served his purpose efficiently and brilliantly as an office linebacker.
*The camera now shows the mans eyes inside his helmet which he's strapped on. His skin is black with a white stripe across his nose. His eyes are huge with a fire that seems to say 'I'm gonna get you'.*
Dave: He hits with precision and power. He brings down the biggest, the strongest, the toughest. He preys on those he is instructed to and those who would get past him to me. He's the most dedicated man among my entire staff and for that he has my respect as a second brother... a fact Milo sometimes becomes jealous of. And now... the nCw has just forced my hand into bringing him here. Pliskin... Taft... anyone else out there who would take a pop at an otherwise distracted yet talented superstar... allow me to introduce... "Terrible" Terry Tate.
*Dave goes to land a punch on the bag but is forced to stop as the man we just saw walking down the corridor gores the punchbag, taking it down to the floor from the hook it was on. Dust and bits of wood fall down from above as he clearly removed the very fitting itself rather than just taking the bag off from it. He stands and dances about the bag a little*
Tate: WOOOOO! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET! You just be glad you're nothing but a bag full of sand. If you were a real person you'd be catching a ride on the ol' WOO! WOO! PAAAAIIIIINNN TRAAAIIINNNN!!!! And let THAT be a warning to any and all comers. Mr Holland here is now protected by none other than Triple T Protection.... that's me... Terrible... Terry... Tate!!! WOOOOO!!
Dave: Thank you Terry.
Tate: My pleasure Mr Holland. It's been a long time... I'm glad to be back in your service.
Dave: It's good to have you back Terry.... it sure is. Now let's see about getting this punchbag back up.
Tate: Don't you have a punchbag at your actual gym rather than this old place Mr Holland?
Dave: Yeah... but that place is just so.. sterile... this place has character. I like character.
Tate: Very well Mr Holland.
*The scene fades as the pair begin reconstructed the downed Punchbag. Part two of Executive Decision coming soon.*
A slap is heard. The sound of the mans feet dropping and hitting the floor from a slight height. The camera finds the man in the room through the light, made all the more obstructive by the heavy mist of dust in the air. The man stands beneath a bar obviously having been doing chin ups on it. He wipes his brow, flicking his hair from his face, only to have it fall in the same place again. He smirks to himself.*
Dave: Maybe there's some things you can't control after all.
*The camera finds an angle where we can see Dave Holland clearly. He turns and leans on the apron of the ring. He knows the camera's there and talks to it without looking at it.*
Dave: I'm not talking about Spike, nor the match with Spike. The same may be true of Spike but it's not him I mean. I won't begrudge him the win. I'm sure he understands that it wasn't the fair or true result but I know if I'd had the same opportunity I'd have taken it just like he did. I took my eye off the ball... just as Milo did when he got himself thrown out. I brought Milo down to that ring with the intention of having him keep anyone out of that match who wanted to interfere. He had other intentions it seems. Without him I could be distracted... I could be interfered with... and I was. I hope Spike's man enough to offer me a rematch the next time we each have a clearing in our schedules... seems I have something to prove that otherwise could be held against me. Still... I won't dwell on it. Move on I say... and I know exactly who to.
*Dave takes a water bottle and swigs on it*
Dave: Robert Pliskin. Mind if I call you Bob? In fact you know what? I don't really care if you mind or not... you threw away all rights to respect when you grabbed my foot and waved that piece of trash in my face. I'm not talking about the stars and stripes... I'm talking about your flag. Your flag. You took what's otherwise a symbol of a country of freedom and justice and you turned it into a mockery of everything your nation stands for. But then you don't stand for that nation do you. You stand for your own nation that you think's the same thing. Problem is... you claim to be president.. a title I won't recognise nor respect. Last I checked the president was George W. Bush and while he may not be a saint he's a hell of a lot better than you, you worthless piece of gutter worshiping trash!
*Dave throws the water bottle at the wall and a loud crash is heard as it makes contact. Dave is now angry and shouting right down the camera*
Dave: What right do you have?! By what divine right do you presume to come into my life unasked for... uncalled for... and start waving your flag in my business?! Have I done something to you Bob? Have I done something to offend you in some profound way that only you seem to have noticed? Tell me Bob what is it? So far in this place I've done.. what? Four things? Been beaten by Craven... been beaten down by Taft... come back and beaten Blaze and Jenkins in the same match.. and now been beaten by Spike! Where in there is anything that you would have issue with? Can't be my nationality because I'm not an enemy of America... can't be my economic prowess because all of my stock and holdings are held on American soil so tell me Bob just how have I wronged you that warranted your interference?
*Dave holds his arms wide apart as if asking for an answer. Naturally there isn't one as it's not like Robert Pliskin's right there. Dave nonetheless seems to calm down.*
Dave: You know what though Bob? I don't care for your reasons. Does a lion explain to the mother gazelle why it's eating it's child? No. Bad things happen and you took a chance to get your face on TV. To get yourself some airtime. You succeeded. Well done. But now you've got a bigger problem. You've gotten yourself booked into the schedule right at the front. You cornered yourself a private session.. 1 on 1 with David... Gareth... Holland. You know what I intend to do during our session Bob? I'm going to take your arrogant, self obsessed self and turn it inside out. I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life... bring you back from the brink and then shatter every remnant of hope that might have entered that disgusting mind of yours. I don't care that you're taller or heavier than me... size has never phased me before and it won't again. Long bones break just as easily as short ones and I'm going to disassemble each and every part of you.
*Dave turns from the camera and goes to a punch bag and starts beating into it gently.. warming up for a more vigorous work-out*
Dave: But why would I aim for such painful feats of anguish on a man who merely cost me a match against one of my oldest acquaintances.. friends even. That's never bothered me in the past like a number of other men. Why should I only now be upset and agry at sucha consequence? Because this isn't an isolated event. This is the second time in about a month that I've been assaulted for no reason whatsoever. I must be sending out some kind of vibe saying 'Here I am.. come and get me while I'm weakened and distracted by a match I'm fighting in at this very moment'. I thought having Milo nearby would be enough but he's not really trained as a bodyguard... and that's what I need.
*The camera switches to a pair of feet. They're wearing a pair of white shoes that look like a pair of sporting boots... which sport we don't know yet.*
Dave: So that's exactly what I've brought. I know this man very well. He's worked with me before and he has never let me down... ever.
*The camera now shows the mans trousers. They're black with laces at the middle at the top instead of a zipper, almost like football pants.*
Dave: He originated from the world of college football where he was a star linebacker. His job was to take down people advancing relentlessly and he excelled at this wonderfully. This isn't however where I first came across him.
*The camera shows the football shirt the man is wearing. He also seems to be wearing pads underneath. The shirt is red with white lettering that shows only the number. '56'.*
Dave: He progressed to the world of office relations. Making sure the staff were working at their peak level at all hours of the day. He served his purpose efficiently and brilliantly as an office linebacker.
*The camera now shows the mans eyes inside his helmet which he's strapped on. His skin is black with a white stripe across his nose. His eyes are huge with a fire that seems to say 'I'm gonna get you'.*
Dave: He hits with precision and power. He brings down the biggest, the strongest, the toughest. He preys on those he is instructed to and those who would get past him to me. He's the most dedicated man among my entire staff and for that he has my respect as a second brother... a fact Milo sometimes becomes jealous of. And now... the nCw has just forced my hand into bringing him here. Pliskin... Taft... anyone else out there who would take a pop at an otherwise distracted yet talented superstar... allow me to introduce... "Terrible" Terry Tate.
*Dave goes to land a punch on the bag but is forced to stop as the man we just saw walking down the corridor gores the punchbag, taking it down to the floor from the hook it was on. Dust and bits of wood fall down from above as he clearly removed the very fitting itself rather than just taking the bag off from it. He stands and dances about the bag a little*
Tate: WOOOOO! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET! You just be glad you're nothing but a bag full of sand. If you were a real person you'd be catching a ride on the ol' WOO! WOO! PAAAAIIIIINNN TRAAAIIINNNN!!!! And let THAT be a warning to any and all comers. Mr Holland here is now protected by none other than Triple T Protection.... that's me... Terrible... Terry... Tate!!! WOOOOO!!
Dave: Thank you Terry.
Tate: My pleasure Mr Holland. It's been a long time... I'm glad to be back in your service.
Dave: It's good to have you back Terry.... it sure is. Now let's see about getting this punchbag back up.
Tate: Don't you have a punchbag at your actual gym rather than this old place Mr Holland?
Dave: Yeah... but that place is just so.. sterile... this place has character. I like character.
Tate: Very well Mr Holland.
*The scene fades as the pair begin reconstructed the downed Punchbag. Part two of Executive Decision coming soon.*
