Mark Keaton’s Studio Apartment.....
**Mark and Norman had some interactions, Norman wrote a letter for Mark because he kept screwing up a letter to his parents, they also discovered that everytime they said TY BURNA, the candles would light up...but due to the RP being over 40000, I had to erase this entire section. ***
Detroit City Airport......
Cooper and Iris walked out of the huge glass exit of the Airport terminal.
“Damn,” Cooper snapped his fingers,”I forgot my sunglasses on the plane. We’ll have to go back and find them.”
“We can just buy another pair.” Iris protested.
“That’s a ten thousand dollar pair of sunglasses made with genuine Prince Edward Island Oak and leather imported from Germany.” Cooper gave Iris a stern look and they went back to the plane in search of the really expensive sunglasses.
Cooper’s ride (provided by Keaton) waited by the curb.
Back at the apartment.....
“So was that good?” Norman watched Mark read the letter as The Remarkable One slipped on his thick leather jacket with white RMK letters on the back.
“Ya, it was rad. I really like the part where you said - I miss you’s - Are you sure you don’t write television daytime drama stuff Norm?”
“Aww, you be playin dog!” Norman laughed and gave Mark a jab on the shoulder.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t talk street talk, that’s my gig dude. You just be normal alright?”
They walked out of the apartment and down to the street, a white limo was waiting for them, a bright red RMK was painted on the side. Mark nodded, he tried to hide how impressed he was from Norman.
Pretty good so far Norman, Mark thought as he sat in the light brown leather seat, pretty good indeed. He could still smell the new car smell as the engines purred to life.
“I always wanted to do this.” Mark said, trying to hide his giddiness. He pressed a button on the console behind the seat,”Driver, take me to East side street, pronto!”
The console opened and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice rolled out on a silver tray, with todays Detroit City Newspaper newspaper folded neatly next to the silver bucket.
“You pressed the champagne in a bucket of ice with today’s newspaper button, here’s the drivers button.” Norman pressed the button.
Mark leaned close to the button and repeated his command, the driver responded over the intercom that Mark didn’t have to yell. He also informed them that he wasn’t that old and he wanted a raise.
“Hey, don’t blow up on me dude! I’m new to this whole button technology stuff.”
They were off. Mark leaned back in his seat and watched the people of Detroit react to his awesome limo going down the street. That’s right Detroit! Remarkable on the move!
The limo made a right turn and continued on down Earlington street towards the suburbs and recreation parks. Mark wanted to mail his letter near East side street because of the scenery that stretched behind the mailbox to the bay. There were plenty of other mailboxes, he just wanted to go for a drive, Cooper wouldn’t be arriving in several hours anyway.
Mark once again gave himself the middle finger and watched it pixelate before his very eyes, even in the luxury of the limo, the censorship was still fascinating him. Norman relaxed and flipped open the newspaper. He gave it a couple of extra flaps for good measure.
“Ahem.” Norman ahemed, he gave the newspaper another flap. Then another flap just in case all the wrinkles didn’t come out.
“Ahem, ahuh, ahem.” Norman flapped the paper again. Mark grabbed the newspaper roughly out of Norman’s grasp and threw it out of the window. Then everything seemed to slow down, the old man on the park bench slowly turned his finger around to see what he picked out of his nose, the poodle that was getting ignored by it’s owner as she chatted with her friend slowly lifted his leg to piss on a nearby tree, the pee streamed out and splashed in slow motion as well, all of this slow motion was because Mark saw her....
Click for Spoiler:
.......but she was walking with some other guy. Mark pressed a button on the seat,”Driver, stop the car next to that hot blond!” A mechanical hand came out of the console and made weird messaging motions.
“Whoa,”Norman laughed,” I guess I know what I’ll be doing later!”
“Damn Norm! Get the driver to stop next to Melissa!”
The limo pulled up next to Melissa and her boyfriend Garth. She smiled and they both turned towards the mysterious intruder, she knew who it was immediately.
“Melissa! I am so happy to see you! Ditch that dork and come ride with the Rock and Roller baby ya!!”
Melissa laughed and covered her face. She apologized to Garth and got in the car. Garth would go on to become a successful carpenter in a company named Nailz n Boardz. They were an extreme carpentry service that took big risks while working, but why are we going on about Garth?
“Melissa, you look incredible! How do you even go outside and not get married all over the place!?”
“I just take one step at a time, Marky.” Melissa said sweetly, in her overly cute voice.
“I don’t mean to intrude,”the driver intruded,”but due to a sudden construction delay in front of us, we will have to detour around Hempway St so we can connect back to the main road. It will take about ten extra minutes sir.”
“Like I give five craps driver, save the road map show for boring people. Just drive man!”
After a few moments of driving and chatting, the limo came to a stop. The driver continued to go on about detours and delays, but Mark didn’t care. The drive continued this way a few more times. Then the limo came to a stop in the middle of a baseball field.
Mark scratched his head as he opened his window, he stuck his head out and looked around the outfield. “Lookin to get a quick game in driver?”
A loud barking roar of an engine cut the silence of serene baseball field......
Sheriff Kinrad and his new Detroit Police Sheriff Mega Car pulled to a stop right next to the Limo. Mark quickly tucked his head back in the car and put the window up. The large sheriff quickly got out of his car and slammed the door extra loud. He then walked over to the limo and tapped loudly on Mark’s window.
“Yes?” Mark smiled nervously as his window opened.
“ Let me in the car boy ,” Kinrad seethed out of his teeth,” we need tuh have us a little chat yuh here? ”
Mark opened the door for the sheriff and the big man sat down roughly in his seat next to Norman Blip. The sheriff gave Norman an odd sideways look.,” Why in the southern fried chicken do yuh got wrasslin make up on guy? ”
“I have a ....”
“ Ya! Yuh got problems! Missa, I can’t believe you dumped a good ol boya like Garth for dis pile o crap here! ”
“Daddy! This is none of your business! You have to stop following me around! I can’t believe YOU rerouted us just to get us alone on this baseball field!”
“Git out! Me n Mark are gunna have us a man tuh man.” Sheriff Kinrad stared at Mark and gave him an evil smirk.
“No, I can do whatever I want. I’m not going anywhere.” Melissa grabbed Mark’s arm and hooked it with hers. “Whatever you say to Mark, you can say to me.”
“Sir,” Mark gulped but his gulp was drowned out by massive, multiple thunderous rumblings coming from outside the limo. They all looked out of the limo windows, the sheriff quickly grabbed his sidearm and jumped out of the limo.
The Wasteland Gang were here......
Click for Spoiler:
“The rich people of Detroit!” Bart’s voice boomed out from his heavily modified S.U.V turned into half of a monster truck, with chains and spikes all over it. He stood on a raised platform with welded rails all around it. His gang surrounded the Limo in their Wasteland cars and trucks, all similar in deathly design.
“You will die!”
“Hold on a minute son!” Sheriff Kinrad called out, showing everyone he wasn’t armed, he took a half step towards his super squad car,”There ain’t no need for violence today! Nowa I don’t wanna be the one ta tell y’all this but, yuh know I’m the sheriff round these parts ya?”
All of the Wasteland Gang booed and spit out heavily edited curse words.
“The Authority protects the rich! Both will die today!” Bart Gullopean yelled in perfect clarity despite wearing his hockey mask. He did an extra boob flex just to show he was serious.
“Mark! Follow my lead!” The Sheriff slapped the window of the limo and ran towards his Squad car, but he tripped and fell on his knees.
“Oh lord liften jeeeeesuss criiiipes! Dat hurt!” The Sheriff held his knee and growled.
All of the Wasteland Gang laughed loudly, most of them laughed like pirates.
“Har har har haaarrrrrr!!” They laughed.
“Damn sheriff! That was funny!” Bart announced to everyone.
Sheriff Kinrad did a pathetic side military roll and crawled inside his super squad car, he fired up the engines and took off towards a hapless gang member on a small moped. The moped was decked out in spikes and chains , but that didn’t matter much as Kinrad smashed his way through sending the gang member flying off to one side. The limo driver took his cue and followed the sheriff out of the opening in the gang members that he made.
“Melissa, baby. When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained....”
“Mark,”she growled,”do you not notice what's happening around you?”
“Ah - phooey -Melissa. What can I do about it? I’m stuck in this - gosh darn - PG mode I can’t get out of. Check it out.”
Mark gave her the middle finger but it was pixelated again.
“Oh that,” Melissa Kinrad looked around,” oh, here it is.” She found a big red button marked - R - and pressed it.....
The Wasteland Gang gave chase and started opening fire at the back of the limo with machine guns and handguns. There were some missed Molotov cocktail shots as well that blew up on the road next to the limo.
Mark Keaton slowly rose out of the roof of the limo on a mounted 50 caliber machine gun, “Hey fuckers! It’s killing time!”
The huge gun gave a tremendous kick in his hands as he swung it wildly left and right, a pursuing gang car exploded immediately and rolled right over the car next to it, catching that car on fire. The result of the blast blew a female gang members shirt right off as she drove the car that was on fire now.
“Hey! Nice boobs!” Mark shot the gun again and that car exploded and did a cartwheel on the road behind them.
Bart roared, “ Where is MY MUSIC!?!”
“Sorry sir!” A wasteland gang member yelled, he grabbed a C.B and ordered the music caravan to meet them at the next intersection.
“Yaaaaa !!!” Mark screamed as he unloaded more shots at The Wasteland Gang, a four wheeler quickly pulled up next to the Limo, a gang member unleashed a volley of fire from a makeshift flamethrower, Mark ducked just in time and landed on the floor of the limo. He patted his sleeve that caught fire.
“This is Sheriff Kinrad, I need backup! Y’all here me?! Send all of it boy!!” The sheriff swerved as several bullets ticked off of his passenger door.
The busy intersection was fast approaching, some major crashing was immanent....
Detroit City Airport .....
Justin Cooper calmly chewed his whole wheat bagel as he wheeled his bags out to the curb. They had retrieved his insanely expensive sunglasses from a nice looking stewardess who gave Cooper her number.
“Like I was saying,” Iris continued as he stepped next to Cooper,”just get the kid away from the commentating table. Get him to focus on the ma....”
They both stared in silence at what Mark Keaton had sent them for transportation. Cooper tossed his bagel on the ground, “Book a flight now, I’m done with this kid. There’s NO way I’m showing up to work out in THAT thing! We are going home Iris!”
Cooper turned and started to storm back to the terminal when the multiple sounds of sirens and gunshots grabbed everyone’s attention, a huge wave of fire, smoke, cars, noise, sirens and action roared past them towards an intersection....Cooper nodded at the red - RMK- paint on the side of the limo. Iris shook his head in disappointment.
“That’s it Iris. I’m not doing this anymore. He’s on his own, I’m on my own! I was happier alone anyway!”
“We aren’t making this turn!” The driver announced over the intercom.
“Brace yourself Melissa!” Mark yelled as he grabbed on to a handle on the roof. The limo skidded sideways and slammed hard into a bus stop, people dove out of the way just in time as the limo obliterated the entire stand sending glass and metal all over the place!
“Keep going driver!” Mark roared, the driver peeled off of the grass and swerved back into the middle of the intersection narrowly avoiding other cars. A gang member rolled his modified pick up truck right over the area they had just crashed through. A huge caravan rolled right up behind them, the parade-like float was overflowing with huge speakers and a stage where a masked man was held on to a fire spitting electric guitar on bungee chords.
“Play my pursuit music!!” Bart roared and pointed to the caravan, he then did an arm flex to show he was serious.
The masked man on the stage geared up, he then played.....
“Huh? What in the hell?” Mark immediately laughed despite the danger he was in.
Several Wasteland cars swerved around the caravan followed by Detroit City cop cars, gun fire was exchanged back and forth between the cops and gang members, a cop was hit directly in the head and rolled his car violently in the middle of the street, another two cop cars smashed right into the wreckage causing a major explosion in the street.....
A huge monster truck rammed right through a building close by and just missed the limo, the Wasteland gang member driving it lost control and rolled the truck onto the sidewalk into a park area.
Another dirt covered gang member leaned out of his car window and shot a huge grappling hook gun at the limo, the shot smashed the window right by Mark’s head and the hook grappled the opposite window frame, smashing that window as well. Melissa screamed and covered her head.
Sheriff Kinrad slammed on the breaks in his car and took out the car that shot the grappling hook. The hook tore out a huge chunk of metal and clanged its way right out of the window again. The hook rattled around in the Sheriffs tire and busted it in a loud pop and gray smoke. The sheriff lost control and slammed into the side of the limo, the limo immediately turned left and went right off of the road, ramped a curb then ripped through a grass area, it smashed through a fence then did a large ramp off of another grassy hill towards a big highway below.
The Wasteland Gang were not shy in following all of the ramping. The Elton John playing caravan even made the jump in spectacular fashion. Dozens of cars on the highway slammed on their brakes as the chase ramped on the highway, smashing through the guardrail.
“Stay here!” Mark ordered Melissa as he eyed a Wasteland motorcycle as it pulled up close behind the limo.
“Damn, I was planning on going somewhere just now.” Melissa retorted.
The motorcycle, full of twisted barbwire designs pulled right up to the side of the limo with an extremely ugly gang member riding it. The bald, scarred faced killer had a Molotov cocktail ready in his left hand. Mark quickly jumped out of the limo and drop kicked the gang member off of his bike. He quickly grabbed the handlebars and regained control of the motorbike. The gang member hit the pavement hard and the Molotov cocktail smashed right on his head at the same time. His twisted, burning body rolled back only to get run over by Bart’s SUV machine.
“Hey Melissa!” Mark roared.
She kept the window closed as bullets ricocheted off of the roof.
“Open the window!”
Melissa visibly cursed and opened the Limo window.
“Check this out!” Mark did a wheelie and fist pumped the air, he then let go of the handles during the wheelie and played his air guitar.
“Are you insane?! Oh my god! Never mind!” Melissa closed the window and started texting on her phone.
Bart bumped the back of the motorcycle with his SUV machine making Mark fall back on the hood of the vehicle, the bike rolled off to the side. Mark quickly shuffled to his stomach, he then jumped up to the platform where Bart resided.
He threw a punch at the leader, Bart grabbed Mark’s fist and held it. “You are way too weak to stand a chance against me!”
Bart gave Mark a wicked backhand sending the rock and roller twisting in the air, he landed on the windshield of a police car next to Bart’s truck.
Mark regained his composure and jumped back to the SUV, Bart threw another backhand but Mark ducked and punched the leader with a quick left and right to the hockey mask. Bart grabbed on to the welded railing and tried not to fall out. Mark continued to nail him with punches until a gang member grabbed Mark from behind in a choke hold.
“Time to end this!” Bart announced then punched Mark hard in the stomach, he then grabbed him and body slammed him off of the SUV onto the roof of the Limo. Mark Keaton crashed right through the roof and landed on the floor in a big thud!
“Oh,” Norman reacted mildly to Mark’s appearance,”havin some trouble there? See this magazine? It’s Walking Digest. Walking Mark. How exciting can walking be to read walking stories?”
A Wasteland modified police car pulled up next to the Limo driver’s window, a gang member made the signal for the driver to roll down his window. The driver politely complied.
“Thanks!” The scratchy voiced gang member yelled as he pointed a grenade launcher right at the driver.
The Limo driver was obliterated, the entire roof of the limo blew right off and crashed on a police car behind the limo.
“Did everyone see that?! That was fucking excellent!” Bart announced. The music caravan was starting to fall behind the pack. Bart ordered his driver to communicate that his music was starting to fade out.
“What just happened?!” Norman asked with concern as his Walking Digest flew out of his hand and splatters of blood droplets hit his shirt.
“We need to hire a new limo driver!” Mark yelled and smirked, he watched for Melissa’s reaction to his one liner but she was still texting on her phone.
“Go Norman,”Mark pointed to the front of the car,”we can’t slow down! You need to get up there and drive dude!”
Norman nodded, he leaned over the twisted metal and ripped fabric, several bullets twanged off the metal nearby and he yelped, he ducked back to safety near his seat.
“For crying out loud!” Mark grabbed Norman and threw him over the wrecked metal to the front of the limo. Norman landed hard, face first into the dash next to the steering wheel. His painted nose hit the stereo button....
“Aww shit! I hate this song!” Mark growled. A sword blade suddenly stuck into the seat in front of him with a loud thud. Another whizzed by his head and stuck in a nearby lamp post.
“Like my sword gun?!” Bart asked, loudly.
Another Wasteland truck rammed a police car behind the Limo and flipped it over, the car kept flipping right into a an innocent bystander’s Mazda 323, sending both cars crashing over the rail in a violent pile of wreckage.
Two gang members on the truck rose up from the sides in specially made, mechanical seats with mini-guns right in front of them. They started opening fire on the limo, the orange spray from both guns was amazing.
Mark grabbed Melissa and pulled her down close to the floor as bullets tore the heck out of the seats and surrounding metal. Another sword stuck right in the floor next to Mark’s head.
“Hey, Mark! I can’t get any decent speed with this car!” Norman announced.
“That’s nice Norman! Could you turn the channel on the radio?”
Mark didn’t get to answer as a loud explosion rocked nearby and tossed the limo up in the air for a moment, Mark and Melissa were nearly thrown from the car.
“Reload my bazooka! Did you hear that Mark? I said MY BAZOOKA!!” Bart announced as he handed his bazooka down to his subjects to be reloaded.
Mark felt a sensation of a hand continuously rubbing at his man parts. He smirked and looked at Melissa, “Do you really think now is the time for this?”
She wasn’t paying attention, she was furiously texting on her phone over by the torn up seats near the busted console.
He looked down to see the mechanical console-hand had been shot off, but still operating on his junk.
Bart was about to fire the Bazooka when he was hit in the head with a severed, mechanical hand, the bazooka round flew off into the sky.....
Detroit Action News at 6 Special Helicopter......
“People of Detroit, this is your eye in the sky Harry Ulport with Channel 6 News! We are following a massive car chase on I78 that connects to the bypass, it looks like most of the Detroit City Police are involved and The Wasteland Gang, they seem to be shooting at a ....”
BOOOM!!! The helicopter exploded from the bazooka round.
The back of the Limo was nothing but a chewed up mess now as the mini-gun, mechanical seat gang members continued to shoot at the limo. Time was quickly running out for Mark and his pals.
“They shot the radio!” Norman announced.
“Well, isn’t that just great!” Mark had found a square chunk of metal to use as a shield to cover them on the floor.
“Give up, cowards!” Bart announced then shot his sword gun, it nailed the back tire of the limo. Now they were trailing bright orange sparks down the highway.
Suddenly a black car roared past the entire pack and almost ran into the back of the transfer truck in front of them, it was a 1982 Pontiac Fire-bird Trans Am, jet black with a red translucent finish. The car had a wickedly evil mural of Alice Cooper’s face inside a huge fist the covered the entire hood of the car. The back tires were illegal racing tires that stuck out a half foot from the frame and it had two large exhaust pipes curling out under the rear doors, facing the back of the car.... THE REMARKAMOBILE.
Grey smoke rose from the back tires as the car spun around in a 180. Justin Cooper held up a cassette tape and jammed it into the Kenwood stereo.
Cooper sang along to the lyrics as he hit the -guns- button right under the stereo and the hood of the car opened like a book lying on it’s back. Two huge mini-guns rolled out next to each other. He opened fire immediately.
A gang member’s car exploded right in front of Bart’s SUV death machine, the car did a back flip and landed right on the front of Bart’s truck.
The driver of Bart’s truck swerved off and hit the brakes. The fire engulfed car flew off into the opposite lane and exploded violently with a bus that was cruising past. The Remarkamobile spun around again and slowed down to fall beside the truck that was still shooting at the Limo, Cooper swerved the car and crushed the seated gang member on the left side of the truck. The momentum of the collision caused the truck to veer to the right and crushed the other seated gang member violently on the guard rail.
“That’s MY CAR! You better not scratch it Cooper!!” Mark jumped up and screamed, he shook Melissa’s arm and pointed to the Remarkamobile, he mocked holding out his hand for the tag.
A Molotov cocktail exploded on the side of the limo and caught the car on fire. A police wasteland gang member’s car bumped the limo from the left and got tangled up in the twisted, shot up metal. Both cars caught fire. The passenger side window of the wasteland police car exploded and a rough looking gang member jumped out. He attempted an overhand left at Keaton but got back body dropped right out of the car, Cooper ran over the gang member in a crunch.
“Gross.” He muttered.
Cooper was hammered from behind by Bart’s SUV, the momentum sent the Remarkamobile crashing right into the back of the limo, the crash separated the police gang car from the limo and it crashed into the guard rail on the left and flipped high into the air, it nailed an overhead highway sign and stuck right in it.
The force of the truck and car bent the back of the limo, Mark grabbed Melissa and they jumped to the front as metal and fabric stuck out all over the seats, the fire was getting worse.
“We’re probably going to explode.” Norman smiled calmly.
“Move!” Mark rudely threw Norman towards Melissa and grabbed the steering wheel.
Mark looked behind them and watched Bart shoot his sword gun at Cooper and ram the back of his car.
“Go! Run to the Remarkamobile! Git to da choppa!” Mark pointed.
Melissa and Norman jumped over the fire and wreckage, Cooper folded back in the massive mini-guns on the hood then they jumped on the hood of the car, Cooper helped them both get in, Melissa hopped in the back seat next to two impaled swords. Norman let out a big sigh as he plopped down in the passenger seat.
“Why are you wearing wrestling paint?” Cooper asked him as the driver behind them opened fire with an AK-47 assault rifle.
Mark stood up in the driver’s seat of the limo, he turned and gave Cooper a knowing look. Cooper nodded, Mark yanked the wheel and ran as fast as he could, jumping over twisted wreckage and fire, he jumped on the hood of the Remarkamobile and slid in next to Norman.
Cooper pulled hard and squealed the car to the right out of the way of the limo that skidded sideways. Bart’s SUV smashed right into the side of it. The limo broke right in half as Bart’s SUV kept on going.
“Well,” Mark looked behind them,”I thought that would stop the dude.”
“I’d like to introduce myself.”
“Not now Norman, do you not take in your surroundings or what?”
Bart’s SUV nailed them again from behind and Cooper momentarily lost control, they veered hard to the right and slammed into a Dodge Viper. The Viper hit the guard rail then ramped, it hit a large concrete pillar holding up the overpass and did a violent spinning helicopter movement in the air right over The Remarkamobile. It exploded on impact with the pavement and continued to roll next to them on the left side of the highway.
“I like those kinds of cars.” Cooper commented.
“Ya, very mean looking eh? Nice sunglasses by the way. Very Prince Edward Island.”
Bart’s SUV plowed through The Viper wreckage and slammed into the side of their car again, they hit the guard rail and slammed into the them again, sending sparks and smoke flying all over the place.
“Norman, take the wheel.”
“Agh. Again?” He complained calmly.
“Melissa,” Mark puffed out his chest heroically, “stay here.”
“Oh shut up.” She continued texting.
Cooper and Keaton both climbed on to the roof of the Remarkamobile.
“FOOLS! Don’t you see that you’ve got NO CHANCE! NO CHANCE THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE GOT!!” Bart screamed and pointed, he did a quick shoulder flex to prove he was serious.
“Time to amp it up.” Cooper said and made a fist.
“That’s right dude.” Keaton made a fist in Cooper’s direction.
“Unrealistic Powers Combine!!”
“Unrealistic Powers Combine!!”
They said at the same time and clashed fists together, suddenly their eyes glowed a bright green.
They both summoned up energy and shot a huge Hoduken fire ball at the SUV !!!
The fire ball hit the SUV but barely made the vehicle swerve.
“Well, shit. That was a waste of time.” Mark laughed, he then jumped and did a front flip and landed on Bart’s SUV next to the masked leader. Cooper landed next to him, they jumped into a fighting stance.
“Hyper uppercut!” Bart roared and punched the hell out of both of them, they struggled just to stay on the top of the landing, with welded rails.
Mark patted himself.
“Not a good time for a smoke Mark!”
A candle roared to life on the floor of the landing, Mark lit a smoke, then flicked it at Bart’s eye socket in his mask.
“Not bad, but this might be a little more effective.” Cooper picked up Bart’s sword gun and started laying into Bart with shot after shot. One final shot to the head sent the leader back flipping off of the SUV, he bounced on the highway and the swords sticking out of him sent sparks everywhere. He caused an accident with a motorcyclist who rolled it after running over the Wasteland leader, a camper squealed and skidded over his body , smearing his guts all over the highway. Hours later, seagulls would land and eat his guts, only to be run over by motorists trying to get home after a long day at work. The seagull guts would cause the motorists to lose control and roll their car next to a discarded hockey mask that sat unused in the asphalt.
Mark Keaton and Justin Cooper walked in slow motion through the thick black smoke of destruction and chaos that the chase left behind on the highway....
Melissa smiled and walked up to Mark.
“Baby, you are coming home with me, no questions asked.”
“I’d love to Mark!” Melissa sighed loudly.
“Not you creep, the caravan. Look at the speakers on that baby! ROCK AND ROLL!!” Mark ran off towards the abandoned caravan overloaded with speakers.
Three Hours later ........
The Remarkamobile pulled up the the curb on the pleasant smelling Eastside Street. A rich neighborhood with quiet streets, clean yards and polite cops. Mailmen were damn polite too.
Mark Keaton kicked open the door, he still had his burnt, ripped jacket on. His blackened, soot covered face smiled when he held the letter in the air. The letter he was about to mail to his parents in Colorado. The same place where the mystery man is from.
“What did you say?” Mark asked me, sometimes I have a big mouth.
Nothing Mark, just mail that letter.
Mark jammed the letter at the mailbox, but the letter wouldn’t go in. He tried to find a seam he could jam the letter in but couldn’t find one. He examined all around the back of the box and continued to try and cram the letter in crevices and dials.
“You’re repeated attempts at putting paper inside me have failed, please discontinue and move on or you will be destroyed.” S.H.I.T said, seemingly annoyed.
Mark got back inside his car, “Post office sure has a screwy way of dealing with customers now-a-days.”
SIG SPACE FOR RENT
TALK TO JIM
Last edited by Jeff Deliverer of Mail : 03-13-2016 at 01:53 AM.
The scene opens to a simple room, no dimmed lights. No darkness. No fire. Just a simple table with Ty Burna sitting across from WZCW interviewer Stacy Madison. Ty is buttoned up in a suit, a bandage on his head from the war he just went through at Gold Rush. His hands are folded in front of him, a calm demeanor on his face. Stacy sits with her legs crossed, a notepad in front of her.
Stacy: I'm here with WZCW Hall of Famer Ty Burna. Ty, you requested this interview time, though you didn't say why. Care to elaborate why we're here?
Ty: Well Stacy, I've come to the conclusion that creativity has no more room in WZCW. Everything is so buttoned up and sterile that those that come up with unique ideas with a new style is found to be not in line with WZCW policy. Fuck it let's just get right out and say it. The Ty Burna that everyone loves, the fans love, that supposedly draws, doesn't sit well with the powers that be in WZCW. It's not the company I helped make great. I've watched as the soul of WZCW, the very essence of this god damn company get erased like a simple eraser board. Well they've finally broken me. El Califa has left the company for places that suit his style more. They've lost a fine wrestler who brought an intriguing idea to this business, and they discarded him like it's nothing. I no longer have a tag team partner and I will no longer be competing in the tag team division.
Stacy looks puzzled by Ty's comments as she furiously writes things down. She takes the pen and bites on the end gently, unsure of what is going on.
Stacy: What do you mean by they've broken you? And El Califa has left the company?
Ty simply nods, his posture not moving as his eyes gaze forward, a blank look in them.
Ty: That is correct Stacy. El Califa has received an offer for a company that will better suit his capabilities. It is a shame, but it is what it is. But the fact remains, it appears that my promos as of late have not been in the taste of the writers in the back. While I do own Creative Control in my contract, it is clear that if I continue as I am, I will see my legacy as a hall of famer erode very swiftly. And so there will be no more Chaos, there will be no more blood. These eyes will remain green. My family will no longer be apart of my promos. The dark robes, the broken skulls, the mythical domain I come through upon, it is all gone. I will no longer be the Harbinger of Chaos or the King of Darkness. I will from this point forward be simply known as Ty Burna. No more wild adventures. No more torture, just no more. They may write me as a blank canvas for all I give a damn anymore. The gimmick has become a hindrance to my career, and I simply refuse to act in it anymore.
Stacy: But why now? I realize you are angry after your loss to Justin Cooper and Mark Keaton, this seems like a knee jerk reaction to it.
Ty: I can understand that people may think that is the case. But I have had these thoughts to shed the gimmick for some time and simply return to being the best. Perhaps I fail as a simple man, I have shown in my career I am not afraid to take risks. Unfortunately said risks seem to go over the head of people that do not take the time to follow through the storyline process. I once owned this company Stacy, and in that time I allowed characters of all types to run wild with their creativity. Now we live in an era of checklists and interviews. So that is what I will be if it means keeping my career going. Simple questions and answers. So please, continue Stacy. What is your next question?
Stacy: Alright....so what is next for Ty Burna? Will you chase championship gold once more?
Ty: Perhaps, perhaps not. As of now I am not medically cleared for at least three weeks. In the mean time I will be going on vacation, and if the company burns to the ground, then so be it. I will not shed a tear. Mr. Banks wants to run this company like a proper business, and not a wrestling company. He has no idea what it takes to read between the lines. Everything is so black and white it makes me sick. I have been the anti hero, I have been the greatest evil. I have been to heaven and hell and back. I guess that is all I was good for anymore was to put myself through hell just to rise up, only to fall down once more to the evil character they expect me to be. Well the cycle breaks right fucking now. I will become what they want everyone to be. If I fail, then it will not be on me. If they become disinterested with a vanilla character, then do not blame me, blame it on all those that want everything squeaky clean and easy to understand. They wish to appeal to simpletons, well then I shall join them in that quest. Next question.
Stacy looks around, as if waiting for the Ty she's known for so long to come out, the calm in his voice almost unnerving to her. Ty yawns as he crosses his arms, casting his eyes down for a moment as if becoming disinterested in this interview.
Stacy: You speak vaguely about people. Is there anyone in particular you are calling out here.
Ty: No one in particular. I will not name names. There is no need, they know who they are. Banks is the only one worth mentioning anyway.
Stacy: You realize that these comments are worthy of a fine and a suspension? That you are slamming the very company you work for on a very personal level by calling out management.
Ty's eyes darts up as Stacy flinches, leaning back a bit as if expecting Ty to get right up in her face as he had done so many times before. Instead he simply shrugs, his arms remaining crossed over his chest.
Ty: Like I give a damn. I had enough money to buy this company, I'll do it again if I have to. They can fine me, suspend me, whatever. My lawyer can take care of all that for me. Needless to say I've invested far more money into this company that was never paid back to me then I care to admit to. I don't take a dime from merchandise sales Stacy, do you know that? I did that because every penny reinvested into WZCW, I felt was the better. Most guys are pissed about only getting twenty percent, Stacy if I got twenty percent of my sales, I would start my own damn company with that money alone and WZCW would be cutting their budget at a very rapid rate. I'm not bitter, again I have more than enough money to retire and not do a damn thing but sit on the beach for the rest of my life. I don't need to hang around as a special commentator, or be a non wrestling character on screen. I don't need to be a road agent or help with booking. Hell maybe I'll go to Hollywood and outdo Titus and his five Oscars or whatever he's up to now. Or I write a tell all book that puts this company to shame. Whatever price I ask, is what I get paid simply put. In the end all these titles mean fuck all anymore. I see that very clearly now. While I will protect my legacy, I will line my pockets with even more money, and if they don't want to pay that price, then I will simply put Banks out of business. Maybe then the essence of this company will get resurrected, but until then, here I am, plain old Ty Burna, no, Tyrone Blades. Wrestler. Pants and black tape around the wrist. No logos, no nothing. I show up, I wrestle, I get paid, I leave. Simple as that.
Stacy: A lot to digest there Ty, though I imagine Mr. Banks will have something to say about this.
Ty: I fully anticipate he will, and I still won't give a damn what that corporate suit has to say.
Stacy: I think we'll wrap this up. You have heard it here first, Ty Burna...
Ty: Tyrone Blades Stacy. Ty Burna is dead.
Stacy: Er.... Tyrone Blades with some very biting words for WZCW. Any last comments?
Ty: None at all. No wait, I have something. My next opponent is bad, and I will beat him. Am I doing this right?
Stacy: Uh....I think you have the general idea.
Ty: Excellent, I am already adapting to this vanilla idea. This has been therapeutic Stacy thank you.
Ty stands up and holds his hand out as Stacy watches him warily. She reaches out slowly and shakes his hand, closing her eyes and flinching once more as a genuine smile forms on Ty's face. He nods his head to her and turns and walks away as the scene fades away.
WZCW Merchandise will never be the same again..... - Dan RMK fan
Wearing this improved my life ten fold. - Another RMK fan.
NOW AVAILABLE at WZCW.COM SHOP ZONE - slash merchandise, slash org, slash slash. com...
The Remarkable leather jacket from Remarkable Mark Keaton's clothing line, it will change your life....dude....
Worn briefly by RMK himself, the leather jacket features, pockets, zippers and a kick ass attitude. WIFI not yet available.
For $299.99 you too can be cool as hell.
SIG SPACE FOR RENT
TALK TO JIM
Last edited by Jeff Deliverer of Mail : 04-23-2016 at 01:26 PM.
Detroit Central Hospital - 5 Days after Gold Rush
Mark Keaton was recovering from his horrible fall at Gold Rush. His injuries included deeply bruised ribs, stretch knee ligaments and minor bruising everywhere else. He kept leaving the hospital early thinking he could overcome it with his own private nurses, but it just wasn't a good idea and here he was, back in the DCH again.
Today he only got one visitor though, Mayor of Detroit Trench Gaston came to visit him. He had a camera crew with him and presented Mark with the mask of Tiger Thunder Dragon King. TTDK was a former legend in wrestling from the 70s. Only wrestling fans in Mexico and Detroit knew of his amazing career.
Remarkable Mark Keaton promised Trench Gaston that he would add it to his move set.
SIG SPACE FOR RENT
TALK TO JIM
Unused RP written before the Goldrush PPV...
It was a cold and stormy night, the wind pulled and pushed at the tree branches and they scraped their tree nails across the siding of Mark Keaton’s apartment. The power flickered and Norman took another drink of his whiskey. His wrestling face paint smeared as the buzz got worse and he started to sweat.
“Yahtzee!” Mark Keaton jumped in the air and did a fist pump, he spilled his beer in the process. He had won again, but in reality, it was Norman who kept his client happy and let him win....they were playing Monopoly.
Norman stood up and poured himself another glass of whiskey in the kitchen, he quickly stole a spoon while he was there. Mark lit up a smoke and searched the living room for his VHS tape he had made for WZCW management.
“I found it, man!” Mark held up the tape so Norman could see, Mark staggered over to the VCR and struggled to enter the tape in it for awhile, after a moment of near misses, the VHS tape entered the VCR.
“Uh, ya. I like that.” The VCR moaned.
The VHS tape was the taped porno WZCW management wanted from Mark Keaton just in case he ever got injured. They also sent him a large poster with the WZCW logo that he could hang in the background. After a moment of warnings of copyright, a quick jingle of Mark Keaton’s music played and Remarkable Mark Keaton stepped into the frame, he was wearing his Van Halen T-shirt and blue jeans.
“When are you going to throw that raggy shirt out?” Norman spat out as he sat on the couch.
“Shush dude! Mark Keaton is about to start his taped promo!” Mark took a swig of his beer and sat back.
“Did you notice it said - porno- in that last paragraph?”
On the television, Mark Keaton pointed right at the screen, he had a sneer on his face, “Listen all you little goody two shoes! My name is Remarkable Mark Keaton! Make sure you spell it right when you’re taking your little hand computers and using the typewriter thingy to tell your pals that Mark Keaton is on the boob tube! Coming NEXT WEEK I’ll be taking on El Caido’s Dragon in a....”
- PAUSE -
“Oh yuh,” Mark blinked as he held the pause button on the remote, “this is the promo for next week, not the general..The genetic, uhh, the normal one, the normal one they wanted me to make. Phew! That’s the one on the other tape dude. That’s the geriatric one, the...”
“The German one. (Burp!) The German one Mark, that’s the word your looking for.”
“Yaaa!” Mark pointed right at Norman’s face, “the jerky one. The one where shit happens all over the place man! Y’know man!?”
“It’s way better right?”
“Whatever Norm! Woo! Let’s keep this show runnin.”
“.....one On one match! Y’know all you dirtbags out there in T.Vland are probably saying to yourself, - Hey, self! Why do I SUCK so bad?! - Baa ha ha ha ! Anyway, your probably sayin - but Mark Keaton is in a tag team! Why is he fighting on his own?! He’ll never win!- bullcrap I won’t win! I’m gonna take that dragon and rip his wings off! Then he’ll be draggin himself all over the place! But you see, HEY CAMERA MAN! ZOOM IN FOR THIS!! You see, I’m on a single match mission people. I’m on a single match mission because this is my FIRST...EVER...MATCH on my own! I’m going to take away something incredibly important to that dragon guy. Your probably thinking, he’s going to have sex with Dragon’s girlfriend right in the ring, right in front of Dragon and taunt him while he’s doing it. No, no you sicko. I’m not doing that. Your probably thinking, he’s going to smuggle in a gun to the ring and shoot Dragon and hope the ref doesn’t notice, not that either sicko! What the hell is wrong with you people? No, what I’m going to do is even WORSE THAN THAT. I’m going to wear down the Dragon during the match then TAKE HIS MASK OFF! Ha ha ha haaa! The whole world will see his ugly face for the first time ever! He’ll be so preoccupied with his stupid mask that I’ll pin him 1,2,3 while he’s crying in the middle of the ring. El Caido’s Dragon! You will be beaten, and LAY at the feet of REMARKABLE MARK KEATON!”
- END OF TAPE -
“See Normo,”Mark blinked, “that guy said he’s gonna take uhh, he’s gonna take that guy’s mask off.”
Norman was asleep at his end of the couch.
“Wimp. Go home man. When did you go to sleep anyway? Dude?” Mark’s eyes got heavy and eventually he was out as well.
NEXT DAY ....
Mark sat in the living room, he was drinking coffee, Norman sat at his end of the couch, also drinking coffee and watching Mark Keaton’s latest movie in the Random RP Thread, MAD MARK - THE ROAD BARBARIAN -----
“Why does it have to be in Oregon? Do you even have any plans where we’re gonna stay at man?”
“Yes,” Norman slowly stood up and grabbed a duffel bag, he pulled out a bright blue laptop with a Smurfette sticker on the back, “I have a guy who knows this great place in Oregon where we can stay in style, it’s also cheap!”
“What gives man?” Mark nodded at the laptop, “you steal that thing off one of your kids or what?”
“I bought it originally, so technically it’s mine. Anyway, the hotel is called The Oregon Hotel. It has some great reviews.”
“The Oregon Hotel, what a winning name.”
“Here Mark, check out the reviews of the hotel...” He spun the laptop towards Mark so he could read them......
Excellent stay : I rated this hotel five out of five stars. At first, I thought it was just a regular hotel, then I discovered a warp hole near the laundry room. It took me to a world of cartoonish wonder. I met talking ducks, dastardly pirates and food that sang and danced. Just be warned, when you eat the singing food they don’t like it. Peter Y.
So much cheese, a cheese paradise. I brought a bunch of cheese with me to this hotel. B. Jergen.
Clean beds and covers, I just had to leave a positive review! I just stayed here at The Oregon Hotel and I must say it was a fine establishment. I’ve never had so much fun sleeping before! The covers were so clean I could eat off of them and the pillows were soft! #Stayingagain
Enormous amounts of sex, This Hotel is perfect for having sex! It has beds and a bar, plus it has pillows and a shower in the bathroom! Me and my wife went here and we just went at it for hours. I rammed her like a stallion ramming his woman stallion girlfriend, horse whatever you call them. We did it missionary, doggystyle and a new position I’m still trying to get my head around, I was standing and holding her hands while she hung under me, it was weird, anyway, we were only interrupted once by the owner walking right in and asking to take pictures. At one point we were slamming each other so hard we went through the wall into the next room, it was hilarious! Joe T.
NEXT DAY - 11 AM , was it Friday? I’m not even sure now.
Mark and Norman arrived in Oregon by airplane, stuff happened in the airplane but it wasn’t important enough to mention it here. Perhaps someday there will be a deleted scenes section and you could experience the long plane ride there, but for now, let’s just shut up because they are pulling up to The Oregon Hotel in a rented car.
Mark and Norman jumped out of the car and grabbed their luggage, they took in the massive hotel in front of them. The Oregon Hotel was a huge, successful hotel that stretched into the sky. Built in the late 1950’s, The Oregon Hotel has had three main owners and has....well, let’s just move on. Who really gives a fuck about the history of this place.
“Ha ha ha! Aw sometimes I just love you Jeff.” Mark smiled and gave me a thumbs up.
“Who are you talking to?” Norman looked around, he was baffled as to why Mark was talking to the air.
“Nobody, just go get us settled man.” Mark shook his head. What a guy eh Mark? Won’t mind his goddamn business.
“O.K, Jeff,” Mark gave me a dirty look, “enough is enough dude.”
25 Minutes Later ...........ROOM 323
They entered their spacious hotel room, located on the tenth floor. It had a large bathroom, a television, two large beds and dressers plus a mini bar and kitchen. Norman was putting his stuff away while Mark explored the mini bar.
“Damn, we just drank the other day. You have a match coming up in twenty four hours, don’t touch any of that stuff.”
“O.K.” Mark agreed, while twisting open a beer and chugging it down.
After a few minutes of talking about the tag team, his opponent coming up tomorrow and Ty Burna, they agreed it was time for some grub.
“Go get some KFC. I haven’t had that stuff in like weeks man. Get it done.” Mark clapped and pointed at the door.
“Nice healthy choice.” Norman muttered as he threw on his coat, he slammed the door and the room fell silent.
A tiny tune of Electric Avenue blurted out from Mark’s pocket, he was using Norman’s cell phone. Well, probably his kid’s phone, knowing Norman.
It was a text message from Cooper. Mark started to panic a little, it was his first ever experience texting.
Mark biffed the phone on the kitchen counter. It hit the counter, slid and bounced off of the wall. Mark stared at it, something wasn’t right. There was something really off suddenly. The phone made no noise when it hit the counter, slid and bounced off of the wall. He felt like he was in a strange sound vacuum all of a sudden. He looked down at his hands and clapped.....no sound.
He yelled, “Hello?” But the sound never escaped his mouth. He stomped around the room and tried to make noise but there was nothing. He started to panic a little. The phone by the bed suddenly rang extremely loud, all of the sound returned at once and Mark nearly fell to the floor.
“Ring!” The phone said, impatiently.
Mark composed himself and as calmly as he could, he picked up the receiver to his ear. “Talk to me.”
“What did you want at KFC, you didn’t tell me.”
“Just get chicken for crap sakes dude. It’s KFC, there’s nothing much else to get at the place known for chicken. Hurry up too, something weird just happened here.”
“Nothing,” Mark suddenly felt like he wasn’t alone in the room, his eyes darted back and forth seeing if any shadows would quickly hide, “I’ll tell you when you come back, just step it up a little.”
Mark hung up the phone, it didn’t feel right again. Talking on the phone was his only comfort, now the silence of the room returned. The only thing making any miniscule noise was a slight ticking from the wall clock. He slowly sat on the bed and listened hard for any new noises.
What was that? Mark thought, it sounded like whispering, but from across the room somewhere. He sat perfectly still and tried to hear the noise again.
Just the small ticking from the clock.
Is that time right? Is it really 8:30 PM already?
The ticking slowly melted away and he really couldn't hear it anymore, water dripping from the bathroom sink replaced the ticking.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I’m not going to stand in front of that mirror and turn that tap tight.
Somebody really should though, I’ll never be able to sleep with that dripping noise.
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.
Ya, I’ll put a stop to that.
Mark stood up from the bed and took a step towards the bathroom, but the dripping stopped. He stood in one spot on the carpet, scared to move any further as the silence returned.
DAMN! Get a hold of yourself man!
Mark shook his head and arms and let out a loud laugh.
A tiny Electric Avenue tone went off from the floor behind the kitchen counter. He walked over to the kitchen, he picked up the dark purple cell phone off of the tile floor, there was a new text message.
The Electric Avenue tone went off and vibrated the phone on the counter.
A kitchen chair scrapped loudly on the tile floor behind Mark and slid across the kitchen. Mark quickly ran to the room entrance and yanked on the doorknob. It was locked, the ringtone continued on the counter and the dripping and ticking started up as well.
“Tell me this is some kind of joke!” Mark yelled at nobody. He stayed close to the room entrance and waited for everything to stop. Eventually it did. The phone died and the dripping and ticking stopped.
He could hear approaching footsteps in the hall coming towards his room. He looked through the eye hole and waited to see Norman come into sight. He waited longer as the footsteps neared, they got louder and louder and Mark couldn’t believe that nobody came into view yet.....
He felt a finger tap his left shoulder twice from behind. His knees got weak and he nearly fell to the floor. A shiver ran right through his organs, he didn’t want to turn around to see who tapped his shoulder.
“O.K,” Mark breathed out hard, “take a breath. It’s just ghosts man. It’s just ghosts. Let’s just take it easy, they can’t hurt you.” He stayed facing the door, he didn’t want to turn around and he didn’t want to look in the eye hole either. He stood there for another ten minutes in terrified silence. He slowly looked over his shoulder and saw nothing there. He walked over to one of the beds and sat on it.
WHAT? Why is the time going SO FAST?! Where the hell did Norman get KFC at, Canada?
His bed suddenly jerked forward and lifted right up at the foot until it nearly touched the ceiling, Mark rolled off of the bed backwards, the bed slammed down hard on the floor.
“Hey, shhhh! Trying.....trying to sleep...ARGGGH! Me MATEYS!”
Mark scrambled around the covers and pushed pillows out of his way to try and see where the voices were coming from, the other bed suddenly flipped and corkscrewed right over him and slammed into the wall by the entrance sending pillows and covers landing on him.
“Ooooh! ARGH! Did DAT sound like a SCARY ghost voice me Mateys?”
“What the hell?!” Mark shot up off of the floor to see a flickering ghost over by the minibar. It was a pirate who obviously died from a cannon shot right through the back.
The pirate picked up a bottle of whiskey and drank it, but it just splashed on the floor.
“Hey! That’s an expensive bottle of whiskey dude!” Mark yelled in a type of hysteria.
The Pirate Ghost jumped back and took out his jagged Cutlass Sword... Music suddenly swelled and Mark felt it was extremely important that he defeats this ghost suddenly.....
Pirate Ghost used - SWIPE -
Mark Keaton lost 105 HP. Mark watched in horror as the numbers bounced off of him, it was a powerful attack.
Mark Keaton used - PUNCH -
0 HP fell from the Pirate, it laughed heartily as Mark fell through him.
Norman walked into the room, “What the hell is going on here?”
Pirate Ghost used -ICE ATTACK 3 - on Norman.
Ice pellets slammed into Norman’s painted face and he lost 85 HP.
Norman Blip used - KFC GREASE - on Pirate Ghost.
The Pirate Ghost flinched and lost 150 HP.
Norman Blip used - KFC CHICKEN LEG- on Pirate Ghost
The Pirate Ghost dodged the attack!
Mark Keaton used - INSULTS - on Norman Blip!
“What the heck Mark? Attack the ghost!”
The Pirate Ghost used - SWIPE- on Mark Keaton!
Norman Blip used -KFC FRENCH FRIES - on Pirate Ghost!
“Stop wasting all the KFC man!”
The Pirate Ghost exploded!!
Norman and Mark celebrated with fist pumps. They earned 100 EXP.
Mark learned -TEXT SKILLS -
“Alright,” Mark said as he grabbed his luggage, “let’s get out of this place.”
Fade to dark blue.
SIG SPACE FOR RENT
TALK TO JIM
Haven: Issue #13
Crisis at Infinite Comic Cons
???: LET ME OOOUUUUUUUUUUT!
A madman in a straitjacket snarls behind an iron-clad door. A nurse and a doctor watch him through a barred window.
Nurse: He hasn’t settled down since he has arrived here. When he’s not screaming, he’s muttering non-stop about you know who…
Doctor: Well, you know who did put him behind bars. A grudge can be a festering wound… Not only that, but mental illness is such a sad cancer. To go from ivy league mind to an off-white straitjacket is a sad fall. No matter, his next of kin wishes to help and thus has provided for us a friend for him. That will surely keep him quiet.
Nurse: Finally, I can get some reading done.
Doctor: Ah, here he is now.
Two burly guards enter the room of the madman. The madman tries to jump them, but one of the guards begins to shock him with a device while the other guard sets up something in the background. Both guards exit and slam the door behind them as the madman continues to convulse from the shocks.
He finally settles down and peers across the room. There is a unique black parrot perched on a resting post. His eyes are circled in yellow.
Madman: *mutters* Who are you?
Parrot: Squawk! My name is Robert!
Madman: *mutters* He must be removed…
Robert: Squawk! He must be removed!
Madman: *mutters* Eliminate him from the equation…
Eerie music begins to pick up as the Madman reaches to the ground for a piece of chalk. The camera reveals a wall in the room that sports a giant mathematical equation. The madman begins to mark on the wall.
Madman: Eliminate him...
Robert: Squawk! Eliminate him!
Madman: Eliminate Haven!
Robert: Squawk! Eliminate the Haven! Eliminate the Haven!
M&Ms are being tossed in the air as Haven leans back in a recliner in the Haven Cave. A report plays on a giant screen in front of him.
Reporter: Crime is at an all-time low here in Smog Town thanks to the tireless efforts of the emerald hero, Haven. It’s the lowest it has been since Black Hawk left the watch of the city to Haven two years ago when he left to assist with Hero Academy duties. Now, with the sudden disappearance of the underground crime lord, Black Skull, the crime rate may dip even lower.
Haven begins to simply pour the entire bag of M&Ms on his face in a lackadaisical way as many of them do not land in his mouth.
Reporter: However, there may still be a reason to be on alert as today will mark the first day of the of the city’s first Smog Town Comic Con Spectacular. Here is Police Commissioner Giles, who has a few words about potential dangers this weekend.
Haven sits up in his recliner and pays attention.
Giles: We just want to urge the citizens of Smog Town to be on alert as an event of this size could attract hooligans from different areas. There are several people flying in and staying in hotels. Usually petty thieves try to take advantage on such big events. Just be alert and expect a lot of traffic. Heh. Thank you.
Reporter: In other news, how many cats can Tronald Dump juggle at one time?
The screen goes off as Haven sports a puzzled look. He rubs his chin.
Haven: What’s a Comic Con?
The scene shifts as Haven navigates through a giant crowd of people. Several of the attendees are dressed in various costumes. However, one stands out to Haven! It’s the evil villain, Mr. Fiz! Haven tackles him and grabs him by the collar of his half-purple and half-orange suit!
Haven: Mr. Fiz! You’re supposed to be behind bars! How did you get out!
Mr. Fiz Cosplayer: Dude, I spent over 100 hours on this suit! Can you get off?
The cosplayer pushes Haven off and walks away with a snarl on his face. Haven realizes that there is no way that was Mr. Fiz.
Haven: What’s going on here?
Haven begins to climb to his feet when he notices a black feather on the ground. Haven picks it up and examines it as he stands. Haven then realizes that there is another feather on the ground nearby. He tries to grab it, but the shuffling of feet in the immense crowd blows it away. As Haven tries to catch up, it keeps escaping his grasp. More and more people begin to crowd him.
Haven: Hey, watch where you are going!
Suddenly, Haven pushes through the people, but the chatter of the venue ceases. Haven looks around and now finds himself alone in a corridor filled with what seems like an infinite number of doors.
Haven: Uh, hello?
A bright light shines down the hall as a figure approaches. A beautiful, draped in white and cyan robes, overweight man with a hairy body emerges.
Oracle: I am the Oracle.
Haven cocks an eyebrow.
Haven: Where am I, popsicle? And what are you doing here?
Oracle: You... are in the heart of the Haven Cosplay Multiverse where universes are slightly, or significantly, altered in various ways by your most loyal fans!
Oracle: And I……… I………….I lost the party I was with. Do you mind if I hang with you for a few hours?
Haven: Of course, popsicle! Now, how do we get out of here?
Oracle: Any one of these doors can be the exit… or an entrance to an alternative reality! The Haven Cosplay Multiverse is vast and endless.
Haven: *under breath* with virgins. Alright, let’s try this door!
Haven runs to a door and opens it up. The Oracle follows him in.
Oracle: In this Universe, Haven is a chick! It’s very important that you don’t mesh worlds as it could have dire consequences-
We see Haven making out with the female version of himself. Oracle raises a finger, but then walks out the door. 30 seconds later, Haven comes back out while zipping up his pants.
Haven: Next door!
Oracle: In this universe, the cowl of Haven was assumed by Hollywood veteran, William Dafoe!
We switch scenes again to Haven exiting the door while zipping up his pants. The Oracle sighs.
Haven: Alright, oh SHIT A SPIDER!
Haven begins to freak out as he swats a small spider off his shoulder.
Oracle: YOU FOOL! I told you! Anything you take from another universe becomes part of your own! Now this beast will forever roam the lands of-
Haven kills the spider.
Oracle: Let’s move on.
Haven: You said that anything I take from one of these Cosplay Universes will become part of my own?
Haven: Dang, I’ve seen some pretty cool stuff already. Hmm.
Haven reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small compact makeup mirror that says “Property of Female Haven.” He sees himself in the mirror.
Haven: Thanks! I also picked up something else from another universe! A new finisher! Emerald Kick!
Haven super kicks the Oracle clean out.
Haven: Oops. Hey, look, a feather!
The black feather reappears as it floats and leads him to a door. Haven stops and looks back down the hallway to get counsel from the Oracle, but he remembers that he knocked him out. Haven turns back to the door and enters. The room is dark and the door pinches off the only light shining in.
Black and white images begin to flash on-and-off the walls as loud sirens play. Haven grabs his ears in pain as flashes of yellow-feathered eyes keep popping up. Finally, it stops. A spotlight shines on a black-feathered figure with yellow-rimmed eyes. Haven looks up.
Haven: Black Hawk?
Robert: Squawk! Precisely!
Haven: You sound like you have a whooping cough. Do you need to hit up a Walgreens?
Robert: Squawk! Silence! Haven, the Black Hawk has returned to Smog Town! Your services are no longer needed!
Haven: Uh, are you sure?
Robert: Squawk! Never return to Smog Town!
Haven: Something seems off.
Again, loud screeching and flashing lights. They stop again.
Robert: Squawk! Return to a love lost. Return to WZCW, and never come back to Smog Town again!
Haven: WZCW? Yes, of course. Are you sure?
Robert: Squawk! Yes! Be gone!
Haven: I won’t let you down Black Hawk. I know that there is still injustice to right in the WZCW. Can I go back to the cave and grab my stuff?
Robert: Squawk! No, take this!
A garage door opens up to the outside. In the frame of the exit is the old Havenmobile with the U-Haul attached to the back.
Haven: My baby!
Haven runs over to the old motorcycle and mounts it. He pauses and looks back at the glowing eyes of Robert.
Haven: You know, I’m still curious how you turned into a parrot and why you have an evil tone about you now, but the burning images in my mind hurt my brain if I entertain those thoughts for too long. Soooooo, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t trust you. WZCW, HERE I COME!
Haven revs up the Havenmobile and drives off. The door shuts behind him. Robert leers at the door.
Robert: Squawk! Eliminate the Haven!
The sun sets as Haven gleams in his new attire as the Havenmobile cruises on.
Haven: Look out, WZCW! I haven’t been around in a long time, and I don’t know who my first opponent will be in my return match, but I’ll do my best to bring justice to those who deserve it!
Haven jumps on the handlebars of the Havenmobile.
Haven: Oh, and in addition to my new attire, finisher, and RP story arc, I also picked up a catchphrase!
Haven points directly at the camera.
Haven: Get ready for some Kickassery! I mean, FUCK THE POLICE! I mean-
Haven digs through his pockets and finally finds the catchphrase written down among several fortunes from fortune cookies. He reads it and points at the camera.
Haven: Heels of WZCW, justice is colored green!
Triumphant music plays as the camera pans back and positions itself looking at the back-hatch of the U-Haul. A soft thud occurs, indicating that someone, or something, might be in there!
"Reason is not automatic. Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it." -Ayn Rand
Last edited by Kermit : 07-26-2016 at 11:49 PM.
ooc: Just a quick roleplay... I'll be writing a backstory over time to go with match RP's... its been 8 years since my last RP so please go easy on me...
*The scene opens moments after WZCW’s Unscripted pre-show match. We’re backstage and the muffled raw of the crowd can be heard in the WZCW locker room. The place is abuzz with stagehands, crew and talent buzzing around the place getting ready for the main show.
As everyone beavers away at their tasks in hand, one man’s work for the evening has finished. Carmen Bratchny steps back in to the locker room, wipes the sweat from his brow and contemplates where he will sit. Bags, clothes, pads and water bottles lay strewn across the locker room bench and after a few seconds Carmen swipes his large arm across the wood thus clearing all debris, he then lies on the locker room bench staring at the fluorescent lights above his head.
Carmen sigh’s before trying to let the buzz of everything that just happened soak in but his quest for peace is soon interrupted as the locker room doors crash open and Swindle McKenzie storms in to the room*
Swindle: Hey kid… Have you seen this?
*Carmen barely has time to react before Swindle McKenzie spits out his next sentence*
Swindle: What a return! What A Re-Turn!!! Some are saying it’s the best preshow WZCW have ever had… Have you seen twitter?
*Carmen’s head was already a daze but now Swindle has blasted in to the room like an excited terrier, Carmen has now choice but to haul his large, tired sweaty frame from the locker room bench in to a more upright position*
Camrnen: Huh? What?
Swindle: Twitter… You know… It’s what the kids do… They tweet
Carman: Yes… Yes I know what Twitt-
*Swindle McKenzie pulls an iPhone out of his pocket and starts swiping furiously while muttering to himself*
Swindle: “Great Return #Carmen #Bratchny”, “Was not expecting that”, “I thought Carmen was dead #wherehashebeen”, etc etc etc
*Swindle continues to stare at his phone as Carmen begins unlacing his boots*
Carmen: Yes… It’s good return but you… why you not at ringside
*Swindle continues to look at his phone, pretending not to hear the Russian*
Carmen: Swindle… SWINDLE
Swindle: Huh? Wha? Sorry… I was… err… scouting your next opponent on youtube
*Carmen’s eyes narrow as there has been no mention of his next opponent anywhere, he knows he’s being lied too
Carmen climbs to his feet and pulls the iPhone from Swindles grasp thus getting his immediate attention*
Carmen: Swindle, Why you not at ringside tonight?
*Swindle’s previous excited demeanor suddenly becomes more edgy. Swindle loosens his tie before taking a seat next to the former Elite X Champion*
Swindle: Carmen… It’s going to take some time before I can get out there again… it’s been 7 years since I’ve been near a ring
Carmen: What difference does time? I went out and wrestle
Swindle: That’s different sport and you know it! You’ve been away from the ring, what? 3 months? Please!
Carmen: 3 Month yes but other organization very different… tough!
*Swindle senses that he is getting the upper hand in this argument. Carmen is tired and not thinking straight*
Swindle: That’s not the point now kid is it? You have spent a year working in the indys, in your little mask as “Maskow” getting yourself in ring shape for your big return, well I got news for ya kid, When you’re a manager it don’t work like that… You think I can just turn on a switch and suddenly become TV ready? No way!
Carmen: Well I’m sure you remember circumstance before 1 year
*Swindle suddenly backtracks knowing that while Carmen is tired and usually harmless, no-one wants to cross the line too far*
Swindle: Yeah… Well… I guess we’ve both had quite the journey in recent years… I’ll give you that
The Recluse was alone.
When he came to, there was a blonde in the room. But it wasn't Batti.
Eve: "You've seen better days, Ramparte."
Ramparte closed his eyes, not believing who he was seeing.
Eve: "Still not a big talker, huh?"
Ramparte: "The witch's spell is gone. It started to lose its grip a week ago. Since I am all fucked up in a bed and can speak intelligently, I'm sure this isn't good."
Eve Taylor looked down, finding the right words to say. She seemed to change her mind mid-thought and asked a question instead.
Eve: "You really care about her, huh? Otaku. You said it repeatedly in your sleep."
Ramparte: "Where is she?"
Eve: "Beating the hell out of a snack machine. She wanted to get you Funyuns. She says you like them."
The Recluse chuckled. It hurt quite a bit.
Ramparte: "I guess it's time to rip the band-aid off. How bad am I injured? Will I be out for a week? A month? You speak to the doctor yet?"
The supermodel voice caught in her throat. Something resembling tears seemed to form from her eyes, so she looked away. She took a deep breath, but before she could speak somebody else came in.
Flex: "Bonjour old friend."
His old tag team partner waded in with a bunch of balloons. He tied them to the side table and gave Ramparte a gentle pat on the shoulder. Ramparte grinned.
Ramparte: "Well then. The three of us are all on speaking terms again. I'm a little excited. Is this a Cerberus reunion? The crowd will go nuts. Ramparte Row would sure love it."
Flex Mussel and Eve Taylor exchanged looks. The bookworm gave a hearty laugh. It made him wince in pain.
Ramparte: "I feel bad for the men that attacked me now. The Hounds of Hell are the greatest stable in the history of WZCW. It's been a while since the Team Killers had a team to kill, huh?"
Eve: "Being the closest things you have to family, the doctor talked to me, Flex, and that Batti girl..."
Flex: "It's not good, Ramparte. You'll be out for much longer than a week."
Eve: "Longer than a month."
The Recluse closed his eyes.
Ramparte: "Tell me how long I'll be out of the ring. Please."
It was then that Batti Otaku came in with her arms full of Funyuns. Seeing that Ram was awake, she unceremoniously dumped the snacks on to the ground and gave him a great big hug. A rib cracked, but he was too happy to notice it at the time.
Ramparte: "Can't believe I'm saying this. It's good to see you Miss Otaku."
Batti: "Oh Rammikun!!! I brought you all the chips."
Ramparte: "Ha, thanks. So let's not change the subject. I need to know when I can come back and get my revenge on this mystery team. So when will I be cleared? Batti, why don't you tell me since these jerks like leaving a friend in suspense."
Ramparte: "Oh come on! Not you too. You guys are the worst. I guess I'll have to press a button and get a complete stranger to tell me. Please. It can't be that bad, can it???"
Batti: "Okay...I'll tell you..."
Click for Spoiler:
The former tag team champion sighed. There it was. Like a dagger in the heart. Like swan diving straight into Hell itself. All hopes of vengeance completely shattered. There was no good triumphing over evil now. The bastards got away scot free.
Ramparte: "Wonderful. Guess I had it coming in a way. I've done enough harm in WZCW to last two lifetimes. Then this is it for me. I thank each and every one of you for being by my side for it. Seems I have no other option but to retire."
His friends fell silent. But even with the devastating news, he smiled.
Ramparte: "This is still a good ending to my story though. Think about it. Before you guys, I was an antisocial asshole that wanted nothing to do with the fans. I tried getting under their skin even. But now I'll leave the business with people that care about me. Ramparte Row may send me some fanmail that Batti can read to me in my wheelchair. And I'll watch you two be the biggest icons in professional wrestling. Storybook ending, friends. The epilogue isn't so bad."
Flex looked at him as if fighting to say something, but he couldn't find the words. He grabbed a Funyun bag from the ground and examined it instead. Eve bit her lip. It was the hyper blonde that spoke up.
Batti: "You don't have to step away. You could manage somebody."
The Recluse gave her a look, trying to read her mind. She blurted out what she was thinking before he could say it himself.
Batti: "You could manage me. You know how badly I want to join WZCW!" :3
Batti to be a part of WZCW?
Flex: "That's not a bad idea, Ram. The audience would eat up a quirky personality like Otaku."
Eve: "It's a tough life, but she's a live wire. And you'd be right there with her. You'd both get what you want."
He thought it over.
Ramparte: "Absolutely not. How the hell can you wish her to wrestle while I'm over here with me legs broken? She is too sweet. Too kind. They would eat her alive."
Batti: "But the people that did this must pay!" :O
Ramparte: "I don't want to see you end up like me! Okay!? You have so much compassion and a loving personality that WZCW would change you. You hear me? I forbid it."
She huffed and paced the room.
Flex: "I'm sorry for the news, Ram. If you need anything I'm a phone call away. Hail Cerberus."
The gym rat turned to leave. Ramparte put his hand over his heart.
Ramparte: "Hail Cerberus Always."
Eve: "Hail Cerberus, Forever."
The two friends left the hospital. Batti Otaku gathered the Funyuns and placed them on the table. The balloons bounced as the table shook.
She had tears in her eyes. Her sunny disposition was completely gone. He had hurt her. He had hurt himself. But she can't be a part of that life. She could lose more than her ability to walk.
Ramparte: "I love you."
She rested her head against his chest.
Batti: "I love you too, senpai."
Ramparte: "Promise me. Promise me you will not be a wrestler. Not in WZCW."
Batti bawled her fist.
She closed her eyes.
And all she saw was the two masked men she did nothing about.
She clenched tighter.
Batti: "I promise..."
The South Will Rise Again
I ain't never been known to keep my cool in a sittyation. Reckon that's just my daddy's blood in me. But there come a time a man gotta lay low a bit. Kick his boots up. Light a Marlboro and watch the world burn on its ashes. There just come a time when you gotta let the cattle fight among themselves. Keep the ol' dog at bay. Let em figure shit out on their own.
Well, I'd like to say this was one of them times. But I'd be a goddamn liar.
Looking at the grand scheme of it all you'd think I woulda been in the thick of it already. Big boy like me has seen his fair share of bar fights and wild nights. But I am a spectator first and foremost. I like to watch the violence. Let it wash over me like a hot shower on a Sunday night. But there's always that itch, know what I mean? Right after you finish that sixth or so shot of whiskey, it's time to do something rash. Time to make shit a little interesting.
I been sitting at this fucking bar for over an hour now and that sixth shot done emptied the pistol.
Time to reload. This gun is ready to go off.
I done seen me these flashy rasslers with their special little names and their special snowflake havin' signature moves. Real high falutin' stuff. Celebrities with their perfectly done makeup and their high dollar haircuts.
Pieces of ass taught to wrestle.
People from all over the globe looking pretty and doing pretty things in the ring. None of these yankees know what real wrestling is. They're all too busy giving their finishers clever names. Everybody is a gimmick now, a damn brand being peddled by fat cats in rich dandy clothes. Nobody knows how to rassle anymore. Nobody knows how to be a wrestler.
Except me. Stetson Hayes.
But I don't go by that name anymore. Making a living touring carnivals and school gyms in the southernmost parts of the country has made me the man I am today. I've seen the ugliness the real world gives. None of the glammer. I came from the sawdust-coated floors that made for arena cushioning. I know nothing about referees stopping a match cuz somebody has a bloody nose. Fuck that. I am the realest part of professional wrestling, and I'm ready to make my mark with a Bowie Knife to the neck of WZCW.
You may call me The South. And you bet your pampered asses I bring the dust storms of Hell with me.
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