Post by Damon Graves on Dec 18, 2016 21:37:25 GMT -5
Graves Residence
Long Beach, California
Scene opens with Damon Graves sitting at his computer, with the loading screen for World of Warcraft on the monitor. After a few seconds of waiting for the loading bar at the bottom of the screen to fill, the screen shifts to the character select screen. With no characters to choose from, Damon clicks on a button that reads “Create Character,” pulling up the next screen. He now finds himself staring at a large, ridiculously muscular-looking orc with Hulk-green skin.
Damon: Okay... I’m at the character creation screen... Do I have to go with this big ugly green motherfucker staring at me?
Aurora: No, it just shows an orc by default. Now, for Horde characters, you can pick any race on the right hand side. All the ones on the left are Alliance.
The tone in Aurora’s voice shows a marked disdain at the mention the Alliance, her lip curling into a small, barely noticeable sneer. Of course, this doesn’t go unnoticed by her husband, who glances up at her with a playful smirk on his face.
Damon: I take it you’re more for the Horde side of things?
Aurora: Yeah. I’ve played both factions, and while they both have their moments, the Alliance side is well... boring. Especially the Night Elves! The music for their starting zone ALWAYS puts me to sleep! They’re alright if you like purple-skinned girls with thick backsides, but if you ask me, there’s nothing I like better than the sound of a male night elf when he’s been killed.
Damon: What race do you usually play?
Aurora: Blood Elf. They’re related to the Night Elves, only slightly smaller and... brighter.
Damon clicked on the Blood Elf icon, and the default character shifted to a male that almost exactly resembled a human, save for long, pointed ears that stuck straight up, and bizarre, elongated eyebrows that extended well past the borders of the face. He stares at the image, shaking his head a little at the default character’s long, blond hair.
Damon: Uh… please tell me I can change that hair style. The dude looks like a cross between Fabio and Legolas.
Aurora: Of course you can. Otherwise, you'd have hundreds of these avatars running around; you wouldn't be able to tell them apart....
Damon: Good.
Aurora: But you may want to hold off on going too crazy customizing your character until after you've chosen a class....
Damon: Any suggestions?
Aurora: That depends on how you want to play; do you want to shoot things from a distance, or do you want to get up close and personal?
Damon ponders the question for a moment.
Damon: Probably up close...
Aurora: Then you would probably go with either a paladin, a warrior, or a death knight. They can take more punishment and wear better armor.
Damon: How the fuck do you keep track of all of this?
Aurora: Relax, you'll get the hang of it quickly...
Damon: At $15 a month per person, I should hope so...
Damon spends a few seconds clicking around the screen.
Damon: Hey…
Aurora: Something wrong, Puddin?
Damon: It won’t let me make a Demon Hunter….
Aurora: That’s because Demon Hunters are a Hero Class. You need to have another character at level 70 or better to create one.
Damon ponders this bit of information.
Damon: Hmm, I wonder if I can create a character and then use a level boost…
Aurora: I don’t know… wouldn’t hurt to try, I suppose… ORRRR…
Damon: Or what?
Aurora: There is an option to “try out” a class at level 100 before committing to it. That way, you’re not stuck with a character you may not like.
Damon: You know, I think I’ll give that trial business a shot.
Damon stares back at the screen, before clicking on the icon for the Death Knight. He likes what he sees on his screen, so he clicks on the “Class Trial” button as the scene fades to black.
Centinela Feed & Pet Supplies
Long Beach, California
Scene fades back in on Damon outside in the parking lot, where he is seen pushing a shopping cart filled with all sorts of items, including several cans of pet food, large bags of dry food, all with the Blue Buffalo logo emblazoned on the front. But perhaps the most interesting item in the cart being the very lively cream colored Shiba Inu puppy happily wagging its tail as it puts up its paws on the top edge of the cart. There is a big red bow tied to the back of the puppy’s collar.
He pushes the cart down one of the aisles until he reaches his car, where he pops the trunk. As he starts to load the items into the back, he pauses, scratching the puppy behind the ears.
Damon: Merry fucking Christmas, Chaos Love. Looks like Santa Claus is bringing Harley and me exactly what we wanted this holiday season: the opportunity to finally get our hands on the two of you. Not that either of us have been extra special good this year.... It’s just that the fat bastard in red knows better than to put us on his naughty list.....
Point being, the Redemption Wrestling Tag Team Championships are coming home to Rebel Ink; something that's long overdue. The last time you actually DEFENDED those belts, you got yourselves counted out in order to retain them. Congrats on looking like total pansies. Considering how quickly you got back up after the bell rang, you could have easily broken the ref's count, just like we did. But no, that would have required some goddamned courage. Instead, you parade around with those titles like you're the best thing since the discovery of fire. That’s not gonna happen again, kids.
The puppy sniffs in the general direction of the trunk of the car as Damon finishes loading it, shutting the lid once the last bag is moved from the cart. He leans against the trunk as the puppy tilts its head, staring at him with its inquisitive dark eyes.
Damon: Everything we can do to keep you from screwing us over, we will do. There is no way in hell that you're going to find a way to keep those belts. No bullshit this time around, folks. We're going to make damn sure that you can't run away or get yourselves disqualified. The only ways you could possibly walk away from Winter Solstice as champions would be by pinfall or submission, and I'm telling you right now, that isn't gonna happen. Don’t even bother bringing up those house show victories, because those are meaningless, just like you. The match is set, and once it’s over, everything is going to be right with the world. The sun will shine, the birds will sing, and the Redemption Wrestling Tag Team Championships will belong to the team that should have held them since the very beginning.
But I’m getting ahead of myself….
Am I really so arrogant to think that our match at Winter Solstice is merely a formality? No,I’m not THAT much of an asshole. But don't kid yourselves, Chaos Love. We have a long memory, and ever since Zero Hour, we've been looking to wipe out the one black mark on our records. And when you stop and think about it, everything is coming full circle. You won the titles in an elimination match, and it's oh so appropriate that you lose them the same way. And this time around, there won't be the needless distraction of other teams getting in the way. We have you all to ourselves, and all of the weeks of frustration are coming right down on your heads.
You want to harp on us, claiming that a count-out victory is meaningless; that’s all well and good. We weren’t happy with that victory either, but it did leave you two unconscious for a bit. Finally, there will be a match that will have a decisive ending, one that you two won’t be able to just brush off as “half a mark”. At Winter Solstice, all of the blood and sweat we’ve spilled putting ourselves through what has got to be one of the most brutal training regimens known to man… it will all pay off, as Aurora and I take come out to that ring with one goal in mind, to bring the Redemption Tag Team Championships where they belong…
He makes a motion across his waist as a sick smile forms on his face.
Damon: Around the waists of Rebel Ink. We have never made the claim that we’re unbeatable, but at Winter Solstice, we will prove that we are most definitely better than you. We WILL close out the show with OUR new belts held high in the air!
He turns to the cart, and the puppy starts wagging its tail with even more enthusiasm than before. As he reaches in to lift the puppy up into his arms, it jumps up to meet him, playfully licking his face.
Damon: Come on, girl… let’s get you home. Maybe your new Mommy can help me come up with a name for you….
He pushes the cart into the empty space beside him, then opens the driver’s side door of his car. With puppy in tow, he climbs in, shutting the door and starting the engine.
