Post by lanceerickson on Apr 21, 2007 4:06:12 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erikson standing outside of Kemper Arena, waiting in line with Holly to see the Kansas City Brigade take on the Nashville Kats. Lance Erikson looks down at his tickets, checking a seating chart, trying to figure out where the seats that he purchased from a scalper after a "discount" (with his brass knuckles) are located.
Lance Erikson: Prime seats...right up front, about three rows in, at the twenty-five yard line. I really did save some cash.
Holly: You're really looking forward to this aren't you?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, you know, football's okay, but I really want to check out one of these arena games. Faster pace, harder hits, more passes, the whole deal.
They get their tickets scanned and told where to go. Lance is brushed by a security guard going to perform a "random" metal detector search of some strange looking kid in a Freddy Krueger hat. Lance and Holly make their way to their seats and Lance hands Holly the program before venturing off to find a bathroom. Lance finds the john and takes his place in a stall. While taking care of business, a couple of fans come in, discussing Spring Breakage from a couple of nights ago.
Fan 1: I can't believe it, now they're putting him in a main event this week?
Fan 2: Yeah, that's what I read anyway. Erikson's all talk. Look what happened to him after he ran his mouth.
Fan 1: True, but do you want people like BBK and Midnight Felon being Tag Champions?
Fan 2: No, I don't. But I would rather have them then Lance Erikson and Dave Hunter.
Just as the guys finish up their urinal banter, they start to leave and Lance exits his stall, going to the sink to wash his hands. He glances over at the guys who are stopped dead in their tracks. They both turn completely pale as Lance calmly washes his hands with no expression on his face or in his sunglasses. Lance dries his hands and exits the restroom without a word as the two fans back into the wall, trying to get as far away from Lance as possible. After purchasing a couple of Coca-Colas and a salted pretzel, Lance heads back to where Holly is seated, perusing over the program. Lance plops down into the little fold out chair and positions his feet nicely on the headrest of the seat in front of him.
Holly: Took you long enough, the game's about to start.
Lance Erikson: Here
Lance hands her one of the Cokes and tears off a chunk of pretzel, handing it to her.
Voice: I can't believe it...HEY BUDDY!
Lance looks up and sees two guys standing there. Apparently their seats are right where Lance's feet are. Seeing the two guys from the bathroom, Lance tips down his glasses and looks over the lenses with cold fury in his eyes. The two guys scamper off, away, leaving Lance with his improvised footrest.
Holly: What was that about?
Lance Erikson: (leaning back) Just two jackoffs I met while in the can. They couldn't tell their assholes from a cantaloupe even if I gave them a sign point each of them out, explaining the differences. According to them, apparently I'm not worthy of being in the main event this week.
Holly: Well, you did get pinned.
Lance Erikson: Yeah, I guess I have to suck it up and admit that Murderous Intent are capable of holding onto those damned things. Not something I looked forward to doing, but it did take two of them to get me down. It's not like either of them could beat me one on one. I think everybody already knows that. Besides, Tito is giving me a chance for retribution this week.
Holly: Yeah he is. I guess that's good. And you've worked with both of the guys you're teaming with before.
Lance Erikson: I'd worked with Dave before too. I just didn't feel his "A" game the other night. I'm just going to pass it off as a fluke for the time being. Yeah, I have worked with Ci and Stevens before. Ci's a given, but when I was with Stevens it was against a swinger guy who didn't really give a damn about the sport, and his partner was a guy who nobody gives a damn about. When I teamed with him it wasn't against anybody who had a shred of talent. Stevens better show why he's heavyweight champ next week, he better show me that I'm gunning for his spot in POW.
Holly: What? Next week?
Lance Erikson: No, I need to be patient. Besides, Stevens isn't the only marked man. Anybody that holds gold here in POW is who I'm after. But that's all in the future. I've got a match this week to keep me occupied. Even if my opponents are a bit mundane. I just need to spend some time figuring out what Daye brings to the match aside from a movie camera for his next shoot.
Holly: You're not worried? Even though you lost to them last week?
Lance Erikson: Nope. Last week was chance. Granted, BBK and Felon got lucky at an opportune time, but lightning rarely strikes twice. And the chances of that happening twice in a row? No way and no how. I don't care how I'm feeling, because both of them are probably feeling just as bad, probably even worse. They took me down and I'm coming right back at them, not even missing a step. That does have an impact on them after all, especially since they're a bit...unstable.
Lance takes a sip of his Coke and watches as Clay Rush boots a beauty to start the game off.
::Fade out::
Lance Erikson: Prime seats...right up front, about three rows in, at the twenty-five yard line. I really did save some cash.
Holly: You're really looking forward to this aren't you?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, you know, football's okay, but I really want to check out one of these arena games. Faster pace, harder hits, more passes, the whole deal.
They get their tickets scanned and told where to go. Lance is brushed by a security guard going to perform a "random" metal detector search of some strange looking kid in a Freddy Krueger hat. Lance and Holly make their way to their seats and Lance hands Holly the program before venturing off to find a bathroom. Lance finds the john and takes his place in a stall. While taking care of business, a couple of fans come in, discussing Spring Breakage from a couple of nights ago.
Fan 1: I can't believe it, now they're putting him in a main event this week?
Fan 2: Yeah, that's what I read anyway. Erikson's all talk. Look what happened to him after he ran his mouth.
Fan 1: True, but do you want people like BBK and Midnight Felon being Tag Champions?
Fan 2: No, I don't. But I would rather have them then Lance Erikson and Dave Hunter.
Just as the guys finish up their urinal banter, they start to leave and Lance exits his stall, going to the sink to wash his hands. He glances over at the guys who are stopped dead in their tracks. They both turn completely pale as Lance calmly washes his hands with no expression on his face or in his sunglasses. Lance dries his hands and exits the restroom without a word as the two fans back into the wall, trying to get as far away from Lance as possible. After purchasing a couple of Coca-Colas and a salted pretzel, Lance heads back to where Holly is seated, perusing over the program. Lance plops down into the little fold out chair and positions his feet nicely on the headrest of the seat in front of him.
Holly: Took you long enough, the game's about to start.
Lance Erikson: Here
Lance hands her one of the Cokes and tears off a chunk of pretzel, handing it to her.
Voice: I can't believe it...HEY BUDDY!
Lance looks up and sees two guys standing there. Apparently their seats are right where Lance's feet are. Seeing the two guys from the bathroom, Lance tips down his glasses and looks over the lenses with cold fury in his eyes. The two guys scamper off, away, leaving Lance with his improvised footrest.
Holly: What was that about?
Lance Erikson: (leaning back) Just two jackoffs I met while in the can. They couldn't tell their assholes from a cantaloupe even if I gave them a sign point each of them out, explaining the differences. According to them, apparently I'm not worthy of being in the main event this week.
Holly: Well, you did get pinned.
Lance Erikson: Yeah, I guess I have to suck it up and admit that Murderous Intent are capable of holding onto those damned things. Not something I looked forward to doing, but it did take two of them to get me down. It's not like either of them could beat me one on one. I think everybody already knows that. Besides, Tito is giving me a chance for retribution this week.
Holly: Yeah he is. I guess that's good. And you've worked with both of the guys you're teaming with before.
Lance Erikson: I'd worked with Dave before too. I just didn't feel his "A" game the other night. I'm just going to pass it off as a fluke for the time being. Yeah, I have worked with Ci and Stevens before. Ci's a given, but when I was with Stevens it was against a swinger guy who didn't really give a damn about the sport, and his partner was a guy who nobody gives a damn about. When I teamed with him it wasn't against anybody who had a shred of talent. Stevens better show why he's heavyweight champ next week, he better show me that I'm gunning for his spot in POW.
Holly: What? Next week?
Lance Erikson: No, I need to be patient. Besides, Stevens isn't the only marked man. Anybody that holds gold here in POW is who I'm after. But that's all in the future. I've got a match this week to keep me occupied. Even if my opponents are a bit mundane. I just need to spend some time figuring out what Daye brings to the match aside from a movie camera for his next shoot.
Holly: You're not worried? Even though you lost to them last week?
Lance Erikson: Nope. Last week was chance. Granted, BBK and Felon got lucky at an opportune time, but lightning rarely strikes twice. And the chances of that happening twice in a row? No way and no how. I don't care how I'm feeling, because both of them are probably feeling just as bad, probably even worse. They took me down and I'm coming right back at them, not even missing a step. That does have an impact on them after all, especially since they're a bit...unstable.
Lance takes a sip of his Coke and watches as Clay Rush boots a beauty to start the game off.
::Fade out::