Post by lanceerickson on Apr 17, 2007 22:43:33 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erikson sitting in the Four Horsemen: XE locker room at one in the afternoon on April 19th, 2007. Later that evening, Spring Breakage will take place. Lance is sitting on a cheap folding chair, freshly showered and wearing a pair of track shorts. A damp towel is draped over his head while he looks down at the floor, apparently lost in deep thought. Finally, after quite a number of minutes, Lance heaves out a sigh and looks up at the camera, startled that he didn't hear it enter the room.
Lance Erikson: How long...it doesn't matter. I've just been sitting here, doing some thinking. BBK, you are some piece of work. Did anybody tell you that? Apparently your overinflated head clutters your ears up enough that you can't hear what I'm saying. Did I ever mention once that I'd already given up on the tag team division? No. Did I mention at any time that I'd given up on my partner? No. You see, oh, and try to actually listen this time, I was saying that no matter what happens in this match tonight, I have a bright and shiny future ahead of me here in POW. I also said that no matter what happens tonight, the only thing waiting for you is a can of Ensure and a wheelchair. You're getting old, BBK. That's all there is to it. Maybe one day you'll actually realize it. But then, alzheimer's will kick in and you'll forget about it and return to the ring...only to be humiliated once again by me.
Lance stands up, and puts his hands in his pockets after taking the towel off of his head and throwing it into the corner.
Lance Erikson: Go ahead and put me up on your "Wall of the Defeated" or whatever the hell you called that. You'll just have to take it down when the night's over. Granted, I'm assuming your back doesn't give out halfway through tonight's match. Maybe you can have your buddy Midnight Felon help you out.
I do want you to understand something before we enter the ring tonight. You think I try and stand by and let other's do my fighting for me? When I lose...when I finally have an honest-to-god loss under my belt. When somebody beats me bad enough that they can get that illustrious 1, 2, 3 on me...I want to be beaten so badly I can't walk for a week. Can you two be the ones to do what nobody else has done so far? Sorry, but that ship sailed along with your original hip. My challenge still stands. If you think you're man enough to actually pull it off, then I'll meet you and Felon along with my partner, Dave Hunter. If you aren't capable of doing that, then stay home, forfeit the titles to us, because you're going to be losing them anyway.
Lance pulls his hands out of his pockets, revealing a pair of his custom, evil looking brass knuckles that shine right alongside his abs.
Lance Erikson: You talk about how an "Officially Sanctioned" Ego Match isn't family friendly. What in the hell makes you think I am? What makes you think I wouldn't pry that worthless excuse for a belt from your cold, clammy, greasy hands? I'm sorry, but the Ego Title doesn't interest me. I'm here for POW gold, not some cheap plastic knockoff. If I want a singles belt, I'll stay right here within the company where the titles actually mean something, and then I'll be holding onto two POW belts. Not just one, like you.
Oh, and one more thing. You added Reck Maverick and Macros to your "Wall of Losers"? From what I can tell, they were whipping your asses left and right last week before your bed buddies came down to the ring. What kind of person gets so blanched that he needs to bring out two extra guys to handle less than five hundred pounds? Dave and I should be facing REAL champions this week, not you two.
Lance rears back and punches the camera, shattering the lens. The cameraman drops the piece of equipment and can be heard running from the room as the camera breaks down and the screen fades to snow.
::End of RP::
Lance Erikson: How long...it doesn't matter. I've just been sitting here, doing some thinking. BBK, you are some piece of work. Did anybody tell you that? Apparently your overinflated head clutters your ears up enough that you can't hear what I'm saying. Did I ever mention once that I'd already given up on the tag team division? No. Did I mention at any time that I'd given up on my partner? No. You see, oh, and try to actually listen this time, I was saying that no matter what happens in this match tonight, I have a bright and shiny future ahead of me here in POW. I also said that no matter what happens tonight, the only thing waiting for you is a can of Ensure and a wheelchair. You're getting old, BBK. That's all there is to it. Maybe one day you'll actually realize it. But then, alzheimer's will kick in and you'll forget about it and return to the ring...only to be humiliated once again by me.
Lance stands up, and puts his hands in his pockets after taking the towel off of his head and throwing it into the corner.
Lance Erikson: Go ahead and put me up on your "Wall of the Defeated" or whatever the hell you called that. You'll just have to take it down when the night's over. Granted, I'm assuming your back doesn't give out halfway through tonight's match. Maybe you can have your buddy Midnight Felon help you out.
I do want you to understand something before we enter the ring tonight. You think I try and stand by and let other's do my fighting for me? When I lose...when I finally have an honest-to-god loss under my belt. When somebody beats me bad enough that they can get that illustrious 1, 2, 3 on me...I want to be beaten so badly I can't walk for a week. Can you two be the ones to do what nobody else has done so far? Sorry, but that ship sailed along with your original hip. My challenge still stands. If you think you're man enough to actually pull it off, then I'll meet you and Felon along with my partner, Dave Hunter. If you aren't capable of doing that, then stay home, forfeit the titles to us, because you're going to be losing them anyway.
Lance pulls his hands out of his pockets, revealing a pair of his custom, evil looking brass knuckles that shine right alongside his abs.
Lance Erikson: You talk about how an "Officially Sanctioned" Ego Match isn't family friendly. What in the hell makes you think I am? What makes you think I wouldn't pry that worthless excuse for a belt from your cold, clammy, greasy hands? I'm sorry, but the Ego Title doesn't interest me. I'm here for POW gold, not some cheap plastic knockoff. If I want a singles belt, I'll stay right here within the company where the titles actually mean something, and then I'll be holding onto two POW belts. Not just one, like you.
Oh, and one more thing. You added Reck Maverick and Macros to your "Wall of Losers"? From what I can tell, they were whipping your asses left and right last week before your bed buddies came down to the ring. What kind of person gets so blanched that he needs to bring out two extra guys to handle less than five hundred pounds? Dave and I should be facing REAL champions this week, not you two.
Lance rears back and punches the camera, shattering the lens. The cameraman drops the piece of equipment and can be heard running from the room as the camera breaks down and the screen fades to snow.
::End of RP::