Post by Damon Graves on Oct 15, 2017 16:43:04 GMT -5
Squared Circle Convention
Moscone Center
San Francisco, CA
Scene opens with a shot of the booth occupied by the former Tag Team Champions, Rebel Ink. Their red and black logo hangs in the back of the booth, with various merchandise on display. A large crowd has gathered around the booth, some of whom were going over the items presented for sale. Behind the booth is a leather reclining chair, of the sort you would find in a tattoo shop, with Damon Graves sitting on a stool behind a large wire rotating cage. Beside the cage, there’s a sign that reads:
Aurora is standing by the cash register, smiling as she rings up yet another sale.
Aurora: Have you entered our drawing yet? The winner gets a free tattoo session right here at the convention! That is, of course, assuming you’re at least 18…
The customer laughs, as she is clearly in her mid-30’s.
Woman: Bless you, sweetie, but I’m about 15 years past 18. How do I enter?
Aurora: It’s simple. Just write down your name, number and the type of tattoo you’d like if you win, and…
She looks at her watch.
Aurora: Actually, we’ll be picking the winner in a few minutes.
Woman: Well, then, sign me up!
Aurora hands the prospective canvas a slip of paper and a pen. The woman steps to the side to allow other guests access to Aurora. Damon notices a NGW camera crew walking past and flags them down.
Damon: Hey, have you seen Gray Malone around?
Cameraman: We cruised by his booth about 15 minutes ago.
Damon: Busy over there?
Cameraman: Not really. I think he had slightly more people at his booth than John Blade did.
This brings a smile to Damon’s face.
Damon: You know what? I’ve got a little job for you.
Cameraman: What kind of job?
Damon: Nothing more than what you normally do. Just aim that camera at me and tape what I have to say..
Cameraman: No sweat. Just let me know when you’re ready…
Damon stands up and takes a couple of steps back, Aurora notices this out of the corner of her eye.
Aurora: Promo, Puddin?
Damon nods.
Damon: Yeah, Harley…
Cameraman: Ready?
Damon: Yeah.
The cameraman signals that the camera is live.
Damon: How's it going, Graymeat? Not that Aurora and I care, but we just wanna know what we're working with here. Are you at 100%, or are you and the Grim Reaper giving each other handjobs? My guess is probably somewhere closer to the latter, if Convergence was any indication. Which begs the question, Gray. Have the lumps in your head gone down yet, you festering pile of dog shit? I hope so, because we want to give you a few fresh ones. If not, Aurora and I will be MORE than happy to add to your collection.
But hey, by now, you should be all rested up, right? You must be if you're still running around being the same waste of oxygen that you’ve always been…. Never mind that huge gaping wound in your pride; you know, the one that was left there by a “washed up has been”...
He scoffs, hooking his thumbs on the belt loops of his jeans.
Damon: Oh, by the way, Jason wants his chain back… the why of it escapes me. Who knows? Maybe He wants to melt it down and make a miniature toilet out of it.
Some of the convention guests listening to Damn cover their mouths as to not disturb the scene.
Damon: You might be wondering why we're so eager to rip you a new asshole. The answer's simple, just like you. We lost a ton of respect by associating ourselves with you. Angelz of Destruction? That shit went nowhere, FAST! Damage Inc.? Bad rehash of something that should have been left in the pages of history.
And who was it that led to the downfall of both of those groups? It wasn't Corey Bull, and it sure as fuck wasn't Rebel Ink; it was you, Malone!
You're nothing more than a fucking parasite. You latch onto the careers of people way with more talent in a single fucking strand of hair than you did in your entire decrepit body and slowly try to suck the credibility outta them. I guess the Perrys were lucky in that respect. Their careers were Teflon-coated, so the damage you caused was minimal.
We weren't so lucky. We wound up in a fuckton of needless fights because you couldn't shut your goddamned mouth. That was time we wasted on your worthless ass, when we coulda been cementing our own reputation in the business. Instead, we had to put up with the humiliation of being associated with you.
And the real kicker? Once you ran off with your tail between your legs, you actually had the audacity to go and badmouth us.
Damon shakes his head.
Damon: That was one huge mistake, cuntbreath…
We don't forget, and we sure as FUCK don't forgive those dumb enough to piss us off to the degree that you have. We put our trust in you, and you burned us. Lucky for you, We can't return the favor. So, we're gonna do the next best thing. We're going to toy with you like a cat would do to an injured bird. Thing is, a cat will eventually get tired of playing around and put the bird out of its misery…. We won't.
We've studied every bit of footage we could get our hands on of your recent matches, and we noticed a common thread in all of them: every single one off your opponents looked like they were having the time of their lives kicking your ass. Now it's our turn…
Damon walks over to the crowd, beckoning the camera to follow.
Damon: Let me ask the fans…. Hey! Would any of you be upset if me and Aurora knock the stupid out of Gray Malone?
Crowd: HELL NO!!!
Damon: That’s what I thought. Face it, Malone, Nobody gives a fuck about you… not the fans and certainly not Rebel Ink. So once Dissension is done, and we’ve given you yet ANOTHER epic beatdown, do the world a favor and just go the fuck away…..
Aurora: Puddin?
Damon turns to his wife.
Damon: Yeah?
Aurora: It’s time to choose the winner of the raffle…
Damon turns back to the camera.
Damon: Well, shitstick, duty calls…. See ya in the ring… if you actually show up.
Damon walks over to the rotating cage and starts to crank it as the scene fades to black.
