Post by Werwulf on Jul 27, 2017 21:41:51 GMT -5
*The camera fades in to the cTn locker room. The scene is busy as the Creatures are preparing for the night ahead, everyone in view save Wulf, Core and 'Raven.
Case, Spyder and Bysin are huddled together talking strategies for their respective matches, the ideals of gold being bounced around, while X-Violence champion Monn ‘Joogra is giving pointers to Rebel Raynes. Tiffany is sitting on a couch listening and looking back and forth as the conversation lobs from one to the other; Monn is trying his best to convey his thoughts, but seems slightly aggravated by the lack of response from Rebel, who in turn, stares at Monn like he just fucked his favorite chicken before serving it to him sizzling in the remnants of his special juices and occasionally firing off a semi-sensical redneck-ish(?) comment.
Feeling the conversation may take away, Tiff reaches into the front of her shirt and produces a two pack of pickled sausages, which she proceeds to tear open and bite into. This grabs Rebel’s attention as he suddenly stares at the sausage in her mouth.*
Tiff: *unchewed sausage dangling in her mouth like a cigar.* What the fuck you looking at? Girl can’t enjoy a lil meat?
*Rebel continues to stare, the kind of look only a man who was facially raped by a mongoose with a chainsaw can give. Tiff, slightly annoyed by the look, offers the second sausage.*
Tiff: What? You want some of my meat in your mouth?!
*She wags the meat forcefully, though it’s too small to really bounce or jiggle… Suddenly Rebel snaps to action, grabbing at the pocket of his shorts.*
Rebel: Ain’t no fucking meat, WOMAN!!!
*His hand rips from the pocket; a soggy, dripping, intestine wrapped burrito sized chuck of flesh flops around in his hand like the mythical Satan’s cock, before he thrusts the first three inches into his mouth and chomps down*
Rebel: *His mouth filled with flesh, little bits sputtering out.* THI EHS ‘OM ‘UCK’N M’ET! *chompchomp omnomnomnom, swallor* Ain’t nothin better din some ‘posum-gator-beetle-feline delight, hand made by dear Daisey Mae! Just gotta watch for the occasional broken nail or pube, cause them critters can be fighters!
*Tiff looks on in disgust, meat stick slowly falling from her mouth as the thought turns sour. Her lip quivers for a moment before the image worsens as Monn snatches the oozing concoction from Rebel’s hand and takes a beastly chomp. He chews for a moment as Rebel just realizes his snack is missing. Rebel looks up and is about to say something when Monn grabs his hand, slaps the meat wad into it, and takes a big swallow.*
Monn: Dat be ah fy’n meat ‘tick yah got dere boyah. But it be need’n som ‘awt sahse!
*Monn lets out a deep laugh as Rebel stares at his violated meat, contemplating the idea of hot saucing it, Tiff on the verge of gagging.
Meanwhile, the door to the locker room has opened, and three figures have slid in. Manticore ushers the third, who is cloaked in such a fashion as to make them wholly unidentifiable, into another room of the area, before returning and joining the conversation with Case and the others.
Werwulf, on the other hand, has proceeded over to where Dragune is; off in a corner by himself, slowly coating his body with oil from the Double-Lux Econo-Max Industrial Baby Oil 250 gallon container he shares with Rebel.*
Drag: ‘Sup?
Wulf: Just had to run a quick errand, Tiff’s partner an’ all. Gotta stay hush hush with all the rumors flying around.
Drag: *smirking* Heh, ya, feeding those lines to Jass on Twitter, acting like a huge fan of his with that fake chick account really did the trick. Still can’t get over his handle; @jass_Man_69, like fucking hell man.
*Wulf smirks but remains serious.*
Wulf: Dude, look, we need to talk.
*Dragune stops oiling for a moment and turns his full attention to Wulf.*
Wulf: We go way, way, way back. We were friends before I ever met Mikey, hell, we grew up together there for a while. So I don’t mean to be offensive with what I’m about to say….
Drag: Stop. I know where this is going, and I totally agree. I haven’t had my head in the game. At Ragnarok, I stepped up and won my first World Title, like ever! I was top of the mountain, even if it was for a moment. I went away from the shut down a changed man, focused and determined. *sighs* Look at me now… Bottom of the rankings and pulling Rebel down with me.
*Wulf doesn’t speak, but merely listens.*
Drag: But that’s done. I’ve been working with Spyder and Bysin, and we’ve been trying to better ourselves for the group. We can’t make an impact if some of us can’t pull our weight, and tonight, we intend to show what we’re made of. That, I personally promise!
Wulf: *smiling* Well, I’m glad you’re determined, though, that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.
Drag: Huh? What do you mean?
Wulf: I wanted to talk about this baby oil shit, it’s like all over the fucking place! I leave every event feeling like I just finished an orgy but without any satisfaction… and it STILL fucking smells like rotting chicken wing!
Rebel: Intimidation factor! *Wulf and Drag jerk their heads at the sudden appearance of Rebel.* Just like the Intimidator hisself! *bowing his head.* Our Dale, who ar’t the Intimidator, Hallowed be the No. 3, You’ll always lead the pack, even now up there in heaven, and may your spirit always spin out Rusty. Aman. OH, and fuck Jeff Gordon with a rusty pitchfork! WAHHOoooo. *suddenly turns and wanders off* Need me another Daisey Mae special!! HEY, GIT YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF MY MEAT-RITOS YA MONO COLORED SUM BITCH!!
Wulf: …. Ya know what, fuck it. Fucking oil is the least of my worries….
Drag: What about the Aces? Or taking over OCW?
Wulf: I’ve been silent the last few weeks for a reason. I’ve intentionally made all of you stay silent for a reason. I wanted OCW to react. I wanted them to step up and put me on notice… And they failed. Tonight is a celebration, the 500th event of OCW. Tonight, we pay our respects and do what we do best, put on a show.
And afterwards? Well, until morale improves, the beatings WILL continue….
*Dragune smiles wide as Wulf smirks, and the camera fades.*
Case, Spyder and Bysin are huddled together talking strategies for their respective matches, the ideals of gold being bounced around, while X-Violence champion Monn ‘Joogra is giving pointers to Rebel Raynes. Tiffany is sitting on a couch listening and looking back and forth as the conversation lobs from one to the other; Monn is trying his best to convey his thoughts, but seems slightly aggravated by the lack of response from Rebel, who in turn, stares at Monn like he just fucked his favorite chicken before serving it to him sizzling in the remnants of his special juices and occasionally firing off a semi-sensical redneck-ish(?) comment.
Feeling the conversation may take away, Tiff reaches into the front of her shirt and produces a two pack of pickled sausages, which she proceeds to tear open and bite into. This grabs Rebel’s attention as he suddenly stares at the sausage in her mouth.*
Tiff: *unchewed sausage dangling in her mouth like a cigar.* What the fuck you looking at? Girl can’t enjoy a lil meat?
*Rebel continues to stare, the kind of look only a man who was facially raped by a mongoose with a chainsaw can give. Tiff, slightly annoyed by the look, offers the second sausage.*
Tiff: What? You want some of my meat in your mouth?!
*She wags the meat forcefully, though it’s too small to really bounce or jiggle… Suddenly Rebel snaps to action, grabbing at the pocket of his shorts.*
Rebel: Ain’t no fucking meat, WOMAN!!!
*His hand rips from the pocket; a soggy, dripping, intestine wrapped burrito sized chuck of flesh flops around in his hand like the mythical Satan’s cock, before he thrusts the first three inches into his mouth and chomps down*
Rebel: *His mouth filled with flesh, little bits sputtering out.* THI EHS ‘OM ‘UCK’N M’ET! *chompchomp omnomnomnom, swallor* Ain’t nothin better din some ‘posum-gator-beetle-feline delight, hand made by dear Daisey Mae! Just gotta watch for the occasional broken nail or pube, cause them critters can be fighters!
*Tiff looks on in disgust, meat stick slowly falling from her mouth as the thought turns sour. Her lip quivers for a moment before the image worsens as Monn snatches the oozing concoction from Rebel’s hand and takes a beastly chomp. He chews for a moment as Rebel just realizes his snack is missing. Rebel looks up and is about to say something when Monn grabs his hand, slaps the meat wad into it, and takes a big swallow.*
Monn: Dat be ah fy’n meat ‘tick yah got dere boyah. But it be need’n som ‘awt sahse!
*Monn lets out a deep laugh as Rebel stares at his violated meat, contemplating the idea of hot saucing it, Tiff on the verge of gagging.
Meanwhile, the door to the locker room has opened, and three figures have slid in. Manticore ushers the third, who is cloaked in such a fashion as to make them wholly unidentifiable, into another room of the area, before returning and joining the conversation with Case and the others.
Werwulf, on the other hand, has proceeded over to where Dragune is; off in a corner by himself, slowly coating his body with oil from the Double-Lux Econo-Max Industrial Baby Oil 250 gallon container he shares with Rebel.*
Drag: ‘Sup?
Wulf: Just had to run a quick errand, Tiff’s partner an’ all. Gotta stay hush hush with all the rumors flying around.
Drag: *smirking* Heh, ya, feeding those lines to Jass on Twitter, acting like a huge fan of his with that fake chick account really did the trick. Still can’t get over his handle; @jass_Man_69, like fucking hell man.
*Wulf smirks but remains serious.*
Wulf: Dude, look, we need to talk.
*Dragune stops oiling for a moment and turns his full attention to Wulf.*
Wulf: We go way, way, way back. We were friends before I ever met Mikey, hell, we grew up together there for a while. So I don’t mean to be offensive with what I’m about to say….
Drag: Stop. I know where this is going, and I totally agree. I haven’t had my head in the game. At Ragnarok, I stepped up and won my first World Title, like ever! I was top of the mountain, even if it was for a moment. I went away from the shut down a changed man, focused and determined. *sighs* Look at me now… Bottom of the rankings and pulling Rebel down with me.
*Wulf doesn’t speak, but merely listens.*
Drag: But that’s done. I’ve been working with Spyder and Bysin, and we’ve been trying to better ourselves for the group. We can’t make an impact if some of us can’t pull our weight, and tonight, we intend to show what we’re made of. That, I personally promise!
Wulf: *smiling* Well, I’m glad you’re determined, though, that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.
Drag: Huh? What do you mean?
Wulf: I wanted to talk about this baby oil shit, it’s like all over the fucking place! I leave every event feeling like I just finished an orgy but without any satisfaction… and it STILL fucking smells like rotting chicken wing!
Rebel: Intimidation factor! *Wulf and Drag jerk their heads at the sudden appearance of Rebel.* Just like the Intimidator hisself! *bowing his head.* Our Dale, who ar’t the Intimidator, Hallowed be the No. 3, You’ll always lead the pack, even now up there in heaven, and may your spirit always spin out Rusty. Aman. OH, and fuck Jeff Gordon with a rusty pitchfork! WAHHOoooo. *suddenly turns and wanders off* Need me another Daisey Mae special!! HEY, GIT YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF MY MEAT-RITOS YA MONO COLORED SUM BITCH!!
Wulf: …. Ya know what, fuck it. Fucking oil is the least of my worries….
Drag: What about the Aces? Or taking over OCW?
Wulf: I’ve been silent the last few weeks for a reason. I’ve intentionally made all of you stay silent for a reason. I wanted OCW to react. I wanted them to step up and put me on notice… And they failed. Tonight is a celebration, the 500th event of OCW. Tonight, we pay our respects and do what we do best, put on a show.
And afterwards? Well, until morale improves, the beatings WILL continue….
*Dragune smiles wide as Wulf smirks, and the camera fades.*
