Post by Caleb Lockwood on Jan 12, 2013 9:30:53 GMT -6
"Okay...what is it with me getting fed to the absolute freakin' lunatics? First Cliff "Delusional" Clinton, then this guy. Yeah, Mick. I understand what you're saying. The indy circuit's harsh. It's cold out there, barely scraping from meal to meal. I know what it's like to not be able to make a decent wage. Murderhouse? Really? I've heard some bad names. But that's...well, I've heard worse, to be fair. I suppose if you're 312 pounds of lumbering, brutalizing giant, you think you can get away with anything. I mean, look at Mark Evil. Or don't, if you prize anything that resembles your sanity."
"Mick, you got me in a bad spot. I mean, you did...well, you brutalized Bad Luck Chuck. Tossed him around like a damn ragdoll. Meanwhile, my partner had his head up his ass and I got broken in half by the Church of Thor. I'm really starting to hate those guys. Not because they offend any religious sensibilities, of course, but because there's no reason a couple of absolute basket cases should be able to be so successful. What's their secret? I don't expect you to provide any answers there, you're not their kind of crazy. You're a violent psychopath, don't get me wrong. I would never try to take that away from you. But they've got something...that's a discussion for another time. What I should be discussing is you."
"And look at you. Crazy damn deathmatch vet, here to rip me to pieces. I knew a lot of guys like you. People who'd throw themselves through flaming thumbtack-covered tables for fifty bucks a night. You'd break your bodies, spill blood everywhere, for freakin' peanuts. And the worst part is trying to top yourself. Sooner or later, you're gonna get killed doing that...but it seems someone in Talent Relations took a shine to you, and you found your way to this merry place we call NCW. Welcome aboard, Mick."
"Chuck's got spirit. But he's...well, he's not exactly a standout competitor here. Not that my record is stellar, but I've certainly racked up my share of wins. This is David and Goliath, plain and simple. You're the monster, lumbering around the ring and using your size to batter me down. Well, you'll try. But I'm not planning on letting you get your hands on me. See, I'm the future of high-flying wrestling in NCW. I move faster, fly farther and higher, and do things inside that ring that you've never seen before. It's not lucha libre, it's not your garden variety high-flying, it's nothing you've ever seen before. I am the Master of Gravity, and when I tell it to sit down and shut up, it listens."
"But hey, you're not worried. Why should you be? I mean, you're Murderhouse Mick. You're the baddest man in the room. Can't I tell by the scars and the cursing that you're deadly serious? Well...I assumed that from the beginning. And I'm going to warn you once, because I'm a pretty nice guy: don't underestimate me. That's a quick ticket to getting your clock cleaned. The last thing you need is to swagger into this company, all bluster and anger, and get taken out your first match out the gate by a man like me. Sorry, second. I forgot you turning Bad Luck Chuck into Ground Chuck. Bad pun? Maybe. But it's not like it'll make you any madder than you were."
"Trust me, pal. Underneath the swagger and bluster, I'm forced to respect you by sheer physicality alone. I took Cliff Clinton lightly, and he beat me seven ways to Arkansas. I need to remember that you're a deranged madman, and while that'd mean great things for me if we were taking some sort of comparative sanity test, it means you're more than willing to try and dismantle me with your bare hands for no other reason than I'm on the other side of the ring, and my haircut's starting to piss you off or some crap like that. So you're getting your respect there. I promise you, though...I'm ready to take anything you can dish out. So don't blink, big man. You just might miss something."[/i]
Open on Caleb pacing back and forth in his room, running a hand through his hair. Thankfully for all, the situation with Kathy had been, for the most part, defused, and she had excused herself to her bedroom immediately afterward. He sighs, flopping down on the bed, and a knock comes at the door. Caleb calls out groggily, feeling an intense headache beginning to build up.
"Come on in..."
The door opens, and Tiffany steps in. Caleb immediately sits back up, walking over to her and taking her hand. He looks into her eyes, trying to manage the maelstrom of emotions swirling within him, and shakes his head before speaking.
"Tiff...what was that? What did we just go through? I mean, I had Jake talk me through, but...I'm still not sure I understand."
She sighs, looking away and biting her lower lip. Tiffany's voice is laden with quite evident sadness.
"I...I hadn't ever seen her actually have an episode. I mean, I knew, but...I thought she was better. We all did."
Caleb walks over to the bed with her, sitting down and running a hand through his hair. He exhales slowly, nodding, and she continues hesitantly.
"It's...from what I understand, it started in about 2008...Spike Kane dropped her on her head with his finishing move, and after that she started developing...well, the mannerisms we saw. Jake, he...he helped her recover...as much as he could. She'd been doing really well before this...and then...I don't know, I guess everything that's been going on just got to her...I'm just glad that Jake's going to be here for her."
Lockwood nods, putting an arm around her shoulders. The two stare out into the hall, and after a few quiet, tense seconds, Caleb looks back over to her.
"She mentioned Emma and...I think it was Callie, it's hard to keep track of all the Jacobsens springing up all over the place. Do you think maybe she got anxious over them? Saw them as threats or something and that's part of why she...did what she did?"
Tiffany pauses before nodding slowly, worried expression never leaving her face.
"That's part of it...I won't pretend to understand everything about her. All I know is that we're here for her, Jake's here for her, and...and..."
She trails off, words beginning to fail her. Caleb immediately turns and pulls her into a hug, closing his eyes and patting her back.
"We're here for her. Of course we are. She's family."
As the words leave his mouth, his eyes open again, wide. After a moment, they close a bit more, and he smiles softly. They are his family. For better or for worse, they're who he has. They've accepted him, and he's at home around them. He sighs, squeezing Tiffany's hand again. He says one more thing before we fade to black on the two holding each other.
"And family stick together."
"Mick, you got me in a bad spot. I mean, you did...well, you brutalized Bad Luck Chuck. Tossed him around like a damn ragdoll. Meanwhile, my partner had his head up his ass and I got broken in half by the Church of Thor. I'm really starting to hate those guys. Not because they offend any religious sensibilities, of course, but because there's no reason a couple of absolute basket cases should be able to be so successful. What's their secret? I don't expect you to provide any answers there, you're not their kind of crazy. You're a violent psychopath, don't get me wrong. I would never try to take that away from you. But they've got something...that's a discussion for another time. What I should be discussing is you."
"And look at you. Crazy damn deathmatch vet, here to rip me to pieces. I knew a lot of guys like you. People who'd throw themselves through flaming thumbtack-covered tables for fifty bucks a night. You'd break your bodies, spill blood everywhere, for freakin' peanuts. And the worst part is trying to top yourself. Sooner or later, you're gonna get killed doing that...but it seems someone in Talent Relations took a shine to you, and you found your way to this merry place we call NCW. Welcome aboard, Mick."
"Chuck's got spirit. But he's...well, he's not exactly a standout competitor here. Not that my record is stellar, but I've certainly racked up my share of wins. This is David and Goliath, plain and simple. You're the monster, lumbering around the ring and using your size to batter me down. Well, you'll try. But I'm not planning on letting you get your hands on me. See, I'm the future of high-flying wrestling in NCW. I move faster, fly farther and higher, and do things inside that ring that you've never seen before. It's not lucha libre, it's not your garden variety high-flying, it's nothing you've ever seen before. I am the Master of Gravity, and when I tell it to sit down and shut up, it listens."
"But hey, you're not worried. Why should you be? I mean, you're Murderhouse Mick. You're the baddest man in the room. Can't I tell by the scars and the cursing that you're deadly serious? Well...I assumed that from the beginning. And I'm going to warn you once, because I'm a pretty nice guy: don't underestimate me. That's a quick ticket to getting your clock cleaned. The last thing you need is to swagger into this company, all bluster and anger, and get taken out your first match out the gate by a man like me. Sorry, second. I forgot you turning Bad Luck Chuck into Ground Chuck. Bad pun? Maybe. But it's not like it'll make you any madder than you were."
"Trust me, pal. Underneath the swagger and bluster, I'm forced to respect you by sheer physicality alone. I took Cliff Clinton lightly, and he beat me seven ways to Arkansas. I need to remember that you're a deranged madman, and while that'd mean great things for me if we were taking some sort of comparative sanity test, it means you're more than willing to try and dismantle me with your bare hands for no other reason than I'm on the other side of the ring, and my haircut's starting to piss you off or some crap like that. So you're getting your respect there. I promise you, though...I'm ready to take anything you can dish out. So don't blink, big man. You just might miss something."[/i]
Open on Caleb pacing back and forth in his room, running a hand through his hair. Thankfully for all, the situation with Kathy had been, for the most part, defused, and she had excused herself to her bedroom immediately afterward. He sighs, flopping down on the bed, and a knock comes at the door. Caleb calls out groggily, feeling an intense headache beginning to build up.
"Come on in..."
The door opens, and Tiffany steps in. Caleb immediately sits back up, walking over to her and taking her hand. He looks into her eyes, trying to manage the maelstrom of emotions swirling within him, and shakes his head before speaking.
"Tiff...what was that? What did we just go through? I mean, I had Jake talk me through, but...I'm still not sure I understand."
She sighs, looking away and biting her lower lip. Tiffany's voice is laden with quite evident sadness.
"I...I hadn't ever seen her actually have an episode. I mean, I knew, but...I thought she was better. We all did."
Caleb walks over to the bed with her, sitting down and running a hand through his hair. He exhales slowly, nodding, and she continues hesitantly.
"It's...from what I understand, it started in about 2008...Spike Kane dropped her on her head with his finishing move, and after that she started developing...well, the mannerisms we saw. Jake, he...he helped her recover...as much as he could. She'd been doing really well before this...and then...I don't know, I guess everything that's been going on just got to her...I'm just glad that Jake's going to be here for her."
Lockwood nods, putting an arm around her shoulders. The two stare out into the hall, and after a few quiet, tense seconds, Caleb looks back over to her.
"She mentioned Emma and...I think it was Callie, it's hard to keep track of all the Jacobsens springing up all over the place. Do you think maybe she got anxious over them? Saw them as threats or something and that's part of why she...did what she did?"
Tiffany pauses before nodding slowly, worried expression never leaving her face.
"That's part of it...I won't pretend to understand everything about her. All I know is that we're here for her, Jake's here for her, and...and..."
She trails off, words beginning to fail her. Caleb immediately turns and pulls her into a hug, closing his eyes and patting her back.
"We're here for her. Of course we are. She's family."
As the words leave his mouth, his eyes open again, wide. After a moment, they close a bit more, and he smiles softly. They are his family. For better or for worse, they're who he has. They've accepted him, and he's at home around them. He sighs, squeezing Tiffany's hand again. He says one more thing before we fade to black on the two holding each other.
"And family stick together."