Post by JackHammer on Jun 12, 2008 15:31:25 GMT -6
Secne opens.............
Hey, Prophet, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Fate’s voice greets us as he walks into the hospital room, with three people. Two are familiar figures, Hammer and his wife Angel. The third figure is a giant, a “Goliath” if you will. Though he’s shorter than Prophet and Hammer, he makes up for it in layers of muscles coiled like snakes beneath his skin.
“What is this? I thought you guys were on your way to the Pay Per View already?” Prophet asks.
JackHammer: “We heard about your kid, and we hopped a plane to get here. And I brought my cousin Goliath should things get hairy after you and I go back to Kentucky for Picture Perfect.”
“Goliath? Sure suits the guy, he’s f**kin beefier than you or me.”
JackHammer chuckles: “Yeah, he’d make a good bodyguard to your wife and kids. I still think whoever was behind it was after you, not the kids.”
The room suddenly goes quiet, as Prophet, Fate, and Hammer all step outside, leaving the wives in the room with the children. Goliath stays in a corner of the room his arms folded across his chest.
“Who do you think it could have been, Hammer?” Prophet begins.
JackHammer: “Well, have you ever wondered where Scott Rix went? You and Draven ruined his life in WVWF. He’s been traumatized for life after he used Rix’s recently deceased mother’s arm as a weapon in the last Asylum.”
“He’s almost as bad as Angelo Della Muerte!” Fate chimes in.”
“Yeah, and then we got old foes like Joanie Lee, Seth Drakin, YCPM who haven’t been seen or heard from in a great while.” Prophet says.
“And there’s always the chance…” Fate trails off, his eyes growing dark as his expression goes like that of a man staring down his own grave.
“No…it couldn’t be.” Prophet replies.
“Couldn’t be who?” JackHammer is apparently not on the same wavelength.
“Angelo Della Muerte” Prophet and Fate say in unison.
JackHammer: “Oh…f*ck…didn’t think bout that option. But I thought he was in Fate’s head?”
“Well…don’t you remember the things he did last year?” Prophet whispers, almost as if he’s afraid to speak of Fate’s other personality.
Jackhammer: “I have heard stories.”
“Well, it wasn’t good…just look at Fate right now. He looks like he’s just been kicked in the nuts.”
JackHammer: “Damn, and all we did was say the f*cker’s name.”
“Exactly. The guy is THAT scary.”
Prophet, Hammer and Fate all look at each other, then shake their heads.
“Couldn’t be him.” They all say, slightly out of synch.
Prophet looks around, then looks back at Hammer and Fate. “Listen, I need to get the f**k outta this hospital. I haven’t hardly left for days. And it looks like he’s fallen asleep again.”
“What you need to do?” Fate asks.
“I just need to get outta here. I have too many bad memories from HCMC to want to be here much longer. I’m getting hospital fever.”
Prophet leaves the scene, and we stick around with Hammer and Fate walking into the room. They look at Prophet’s wife, and Angel, who appear to be having “girl talk time”. Goliath nods to the two and mumbles something about Da*n girl talk. JackHammer nods back. They turn around, and begin walking down the hall toward the elevator, where they go down so they can get to the cafeteria. JackHammer half turns to Fate as they stop at the elevator.
Jackhammer: “Goliath will stay with them until I call him back; he would have no problem staying with them for years if need be."
Fate hits the down button, ”What bugs me right now has to do with what Ricky and Anthony said…they think Prophet’s not gonna be the guy to make a difference. Could it be because he’s been distracted?”
They enter the elevator and head down to the cafeteria.
Jackhammer: “We need to make sure DP stays on the right track and keeps him mind in the game for our big tag match this Sunday for the tag team belts against Ricky Johnson and John Anthony. This is going to be a very tough match and I need to make sure that he's ready to tear someone's head f*cking clean off their shoulders."
”Exactly, Prophet needs to get his head on straight and then he can rip people’s f**king heads off. I kinda wished I could actually help, though. But it is still weird, who the hell could have done this?”
The elevator stops and they both step out and walk towards the cafeteria.
Jackhammer: “After our match Sunday I plan on helping Darky find the son of a b*tch who did this to his son, and if he doesn't want to then I'll find the person myself if need be."
”He’s gonna want to find this guy, Hammer. This is his son, we’re talking about. This is his seed, he’s gonna do whatever he can in his power to find this guy and take him out, whoever he is.”
Jackhammer: “I know for a fact that me and Darky can beat John Anthony and Ricky Johnson without a problem. These guys are nothing but pushovers. Both me and Darky have more talent in our little fingers then those two will ever hope to have."
”Yeah, I don’t quite get what the f**k they were talking about. You being the guy they were gonna focus on and that would give them the win? Does John Anthony forget Prophet beat him? Does Ricky Johnson forget what Prophet was about to do to him? They forgot that you two are a TEAM. You’ve gone down this road and won tag titles before, facing guys with ten times their talent. They are getting in over their heads, and they don’t even f**king know it.”
Fate and Hammer walk into the cafeteria and we cross fade to Prophet walking down Chicago in front of the Metrodome. There’s a Twin’s game tonight, and the place is already starting to get full. He is smoking a cigarette, thinking to himself as he walks down the sidewalk. The weather sucks, as it is raining today, just like every other day this week in Minneapolis.
“Just because I’ve spent the last two days with my son doesn’t mean I haven’t been paying attention. I know what you and your prick friend had to say, Ricky. John Anthony forgets, one of my first matches here I beat him like a red-headed stepchild. I beat him and I worked my way to the Xtreme Title that Spike robbed from me and gave to Reckoning. I just don’t get it; they think Hammer is the guy to worry about? Sure, you’ve faced him last week and won, big f**king deal. You beat him with SHOWTIME as his partner. Nothing against our brother Mr. Showtime, but he is not the same as I am. He’s still a rookie; he’s still got a lot to learn, despite his many talents. I was in his shoes six years ago; Fate was only two years ago. He’s got the potential to be NCW Champion in the future, but he and Hammer made a mistake and lost sight of the goal. But now, now you guys will be facing former tag champions in Hammer and Myself. In NLCW we faced guys who were as tough and dominant as the Hollands or Smoking Aces were. And now…I have gotten shaken out of my lulled state of security. I thought my family was safe, but I was wrong. I don’t know what I’m gonna do to fix this, maybe Goliath can figure a way to protect them here.”
Prophet has turned and begun walking down Washington toward the remnants of the 35W Bridge. The construction crews have been laboring day and night for months working on it. And Prophet still doesn’t quite believe something like that has happened in his own backyard. He walks up to the fence on the overpass, and looks over the construction crews working despite the heavy rains.
“Look at these guys; they don’t give up no matter what. They have been working in three shifts to get this done. Working day and night, building pieces on both sides of the river and on barges in the river. Cement, wood, and steel rods. What do YOU see Ricky? What do YOU see John? Do you see common men, beneath you and your “supremacy”? Do you see people who are just doing a job, and have no form of courage or pride in their work? They are the unsung heroes, upon their backs is our world built. They work, tirelessly, braving cold, rain, wind, and even risking life and limb for what? To build a simple bridge? No, they do so much more. They build hope, hope we lost August 1st last year. Hope that died while I was still home recuperating from the Asylum in January. And I have used that bridge, so many times. I decided to take a different way home that day from the store. There isn’t a night that goes by that I wonder what would have happened were I on the bridge…maybe you wouldn’t be facing me this week, maybe I’d be dead and buried. Not all the bodies of the thirteen dead were pulled from the river, you know. They are still there, under the water, somewhere. And those souls…they call to me and tell me things. They always tell me things.”
Prophet takes a long drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the street and walking further down the road. Ahead is Seven Corners, and the six bars associated. Old stomping grounds of Prophet, just blocks from his home.
“Again, I have an urge to drink. But I know the path that leads me down. I was once on that downward spiral, but no more. I beat addiction. I beat the drugs. And I will beat you, too, Ricky Johnson and John Anthony. There’s a title on the line. And I have yet in six years to lose a match for a tag title. I won them with Hammer before, against guys better than you. You probably expect me to say something about ripping your heads off or drinking your blood. But I’m sorry; I’m not the same thing over and over like Spike Kane or Sexy Jason. I’m not Reckoning, the same white rapper bulls**t every time you see him. I’m not going to give some big long rhyme about how birds will peck your eyes, or how I’ll bake your flesh in the sun. I, simply, cannot even begin to tell you how wrong you were to say Hammer were the one to worry about. I cannot even begin to THINK of how wrong you are thinking that we, as a team, are only ONE f**kING MAN. I’m sorry; I thought this was the TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS not HANDICAP MATCH CHAMPIONSHIPS. You both need to stop sucking each others’ dicks and get your heads outta your asses. I’m here, thousands of miles away from where I’ll be Sunday. Not because I want to be here. Not because I asked for my son to be run over by a hit and run. But because it is my job, as a Husband and a Father to be there for my family. Just like it is these men’s jobs behind me to build a bridge. And just like on Sunday, it will be my job and Hammer’s to take away any and all chances you two have of gaining the tag titles at Picture Perfect. And you two better think twice about what the f**k you think you are saying about who is the man you should focus on. You should, like a SANE f**kING HUMAN BEING look at both of us, the TEAM you are facing.”
We hear Prophet swearing as he walks off into the torrential rains. We fade to black.
Hey, Prophet, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Fate’s voice greets us as he walks into the hospital room, with three people. Two are familiar figures, Hammer and his wife Angel. The third figure is a giant, a “Goliath” if you will. Though he’s shorter than Prophet and Hammer, he makes up for it in layers of muscles coiled like snakes beneath his skin.
“What is this? I thought you guys were on your way to the Pay Per View already?” Prophet asks.
JackHammer: “We heard about your kid, and we hopped a plane to get here. And I brought my cousin Goliath should things get hairy after you and I go back to Kentucky for Picture Perfect.”
“Goliath? Sure suits the guy, he’s f**kin beefier than you or me.”
JackHammer chuckles: “Yeah, he’d make a good bodyguard to your wife and kids. I still think whoever was behind it was after you, not the kids.”
The room suddenly goes quiet, as Prophet, Fate, and Hammer all step outside, leaving the wives in the room with the children. Goliath stays in a corner of the room his arms folded across his chest.
“Who do you think it could have been, Hammer?” Prophet begins.
JackHammer: “Well, have you ever wondered where Scott Rix went? You and Draven ruined his life in WVWF. He’s been traumatized for life after he used Rix’s recently deceased mother’s arm as a weapon in the last Asylum.”
“He’s almost as bad as Angelo Della Muerte!” Fate chimes in.”
“Yeah, and then we got old foes like Joanie Lee, Seth Drakin, YCPM who haven’t been seen or heard from in a great while.” Prophet says.
“And there’s always the chance…” Fate trails off, his eyes growing dark as his expression goes like that of a man staring down his own grave.
“No…it couldn’t be.” Prophet replies.
“Couldn’t be who?” JackHammer is apparently not on the same wavelength.
“Angelo Della Muerte” Prophet and Fate say in unison.
JackHammer: “Oh…f*ck…didn’t think bout that option. But I thought he was in Fate’s head?”
“Well…don’t you remember the things he did last year?” Prophet whispers, almost as if he’s afraid to speak of Fate’s other personality.
Jackhammer: “I have heard stories.”
“Well, it wasn’t good…just look at Fate right now. He looks like he’s just been kicked in the nuts.”
JackHammer: “Damn, and all we did was say the f*cker’s name.”
“Exactly. The guy is THAT scary.”
Prophet, Hammer and Fate all look at each other, then shake their heads.
“Couldn’t be him.” They all say, slightly out of synch.
Prophet looks around, then looks back at Hammer and Fate. “Listen, I need to get the f**k outta this hospital. I haven’t hardly left for days. And it looks like he’s fallen asleep again.”
“What you need to do?” Fate asks.
“I just need to get outta here. I have too many bad memories from HCMC to want to be here much longer. I’m getting hospital fever.”
Prophet leaves the scene, and we stick around with Hammer and Fate walking into the room. They look at Prophet’s wife, and Angel, who appear to be having “girl talk time”. Goliath nods to the two and mumbles something about Da*n girl talk. JackHammer nods back. They turn around, and begin walking down the hall toward the elevator, where they go down so they can get to the cafeteria. JackHammer half turns to Fate as they stop at the elevator.
Jackhammer: “Goliath will stay with them until I call him back; he would have no problem staying with them for years if need be."
Fate hits the down button, ”What bugs me right now has to do with what Ricky and Anthony said…they think Prophet’s not gonna be the guy to make a difference. Could it be because he’s been distracted?”
They enter the elevator and head down to the cafeteria.
Jackhammer: “We need to make sure DP stays on the right track and keeps him mind in the game for our big tag match this Sunday for the tag team belts against Ricky Johnson and John Anthony. This is going to be a very tough match and I need to make sure that he's ready to tear someone's head f*cking clean off their shoulders."
”Exactly, Prophet needs to get his head on straight and then he can rip people’s f**king heads off. I kinda wished I could actually help, though. But it is still weird, who the hell could have done this?”
The elevator stops and they both step out and walk towards the cafeteria.
Jackhammer: “After our match Sunday I plan on helping Darky find the son of a b*tch who did this to his son, and if he doesn't want to then I'll find the person myself if need be."
”He’s gonna want to find this guy, Hammer. This is his son, we’re talking about. This is his seed, he’s gonna do whatever he can in his power to find this guy and take him out, whoever he is.”
Jackhammer: “I know for a fact that me and Darky can beat John Anthony and Ricky Johnson without a problem. These guys are nothing but pushovers. Both me and Darky have more talent in our little fingers then those two will ever hope to have."
”Yeah, I don’t quite get what the f**k they were talking about. You being the guy they were gonna focus on and that would give them the win? Does John Anthony forget Prophet beat him? Does Ricky Johnson forget what Prophet was about to do to him? They forgot that you two are a TEAM. You’ve gone down this road and won tag titles before, facing guys with ten times their talent. They are getting in over their heads, and they don’t even f**king know it.”
Fate and Hammer walk into the cafeteria and we cross fade to Prophet walking down Chicago in front of the Metrodome. There’s a Twin’s game tonight, and the place is already starting to get full. He is smoking a cigarette, thinking to himself as he walks down the sidewalk. The weather sucks, as it is raining today, just like every other day this week in Minneapolis.
“Just because I’ve spent the last two days with my son doesn’t mean I haven’t been paying attention. I know what you and your prick friend had to say, Ricky. John Anthony forgets, one of my first matches here I beat him like a red-headed stepchild. I beat him and I worked my way to the Xtreme Title that Spike robbed from me and gave to Reckoning. I just don’t get it; they think Hammer is the guy to worry about? Sure, you’ve faced him last week and won, big f**king deal. You beat him with SHOWTIME as his partner. Nothing against our brother Mr. Showtime, but he is not the same as I am. He’s still a rookie; he’s still got a lot to learn, despite his many talents. I was in his shoes six years ago; Fate was only two years ago. He’s got the potential to be NCW Champion in the future, but he and Hammer made a mistake and lost sight of the goal. But now, now you guys will be facing former tag champions in Hammer and Myself. In NLCW we faced guys who were as tough and dominant as the Hollands or Smoking Aces were. And now…I have gotten shaken out of my lulled state of security. I thought my family was safe, but I was wrong. I don’t know what I’m gonna do to fix this, maybe Goliath can figure a way to protect them here.”
Prophet has turned and begun walking down Washington toward the remnants of the 35W Bridge. The construction crews have been laboring day and night for months working on it. And Prophet still doesn’t quite believe something like that has happened in his own backyard. He walks up to the fence on the overpass, and looks over the construction crews working despite the heavy rains.
“Look at these guys; they don’t give up no matter what. They have been working in three shifts to get this done. Working day and night, building pieces on both sides of the river and on barges in the river. Cement, wood, and steel rods. What do YOU see Ricky? What do YOU see John? Do you see common men, beneath you and your “supremacy”? Do you see people who are just doing a job, and have no form of courage or pride in their work? They are the unsung heroes, upon their backs is our world built. They work, tirelessly, braving cold, rain, wind, and even risking life and limb for what? To build a simple bridge? No, they do so much more. They build hope, hope we lost August 1st last year. Hope that died while I was still home recuperating from the Asylum in January. And I have used that bridge, so many times. I decided to take a different way home that day from the store. There isn’t a night that goes by that I wonder what would have happened were I on the bridge…maybe you wouldn’t be facing me this week, maybe I’d be dead and buried. Not all the bodies of the thirteen dead were pulled from the river, you know. They are still there, under the water, somewhere. And those souls…they call to me and tell me things. They always tell me things.”
Prophet takes a long drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the street and walking further down the road. Ahead is Seven Corners, and the six bars associated. Old stomping grounds of Prophet, just blocks from his home.
“Again, I have an urge to drink. But I know the path that leads me down. I was once on that downward spiral, but no more. I beat addiction. I beat the drugs. And I will beat you, too, Ricky Johnson and John Anthony. There’s a title on the line. And I have yet in six years to lose a match for a tag title. I won them with Hammer before, against guys better than you. You probably expect me to say something about ripping your heads off or drinking your blood. But I’m sorry; I’m not the same thing over and over like Spike Kane or Sexy Jason. I’m not Reckoning, the same white rapper bulls**t every time you see him. I’m not going to give some big long rhyme about how birds will peck your eyes, or how I’ll bake your flesh in the sun. I, simply, cannot even begin to tell you how wrong you were to say Hammer were the one to worry about. I cannot even begin to THINK of how wrong you are thinking that we, as a team, are only ONE f**kING MAN. I’m sorry; I thought this was the TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS not HANDICAP MATCH CHAMPIONSHIPS. You both need to stop sucking each others’ dicks and get your heads outta your asses. I’m here, thousands of miles away from where I’ll be Sunday. Not because I want to be here. Not because I asked for my son to be run over by a hit and run. But because it is my job, as a Husband and a Father to be there for my family. Just like it is these men’s jobs behind me to build a bridge. And just like on Sunday, it will be my job and Hammer’s to take away any and all chances you two have of gaining the tag titles at Picture Perfect. And you two better think twice about what the f**k you think you are saying about who is the man you should focus on. You should, like a SANE f**kING HUMAN BEING look at both of us, the TEAM you are facing.”
We hear Prophet swearing as he walks off into the torrential rains. We fade to black.