Words from The Shooter - Ramble On Post-Match
Jun 25, 2022 23:13:47 GMT -5
Kira Izumi and Dylan like this
Post by Jimbo on Jun 25, 2022 23:13:47 GMT -5
We open on a battered and exhausted Scott Fargo as he limps down the halls of the arena, flanked on either side by young boys. One holds a towel whilst the other tries in vain to apply an ice pack to the back of Fargo’s neck. Fargo, breathing heavy, props himself up against the wall so as to not fall. He mutters under his breath.
“Can you fuckers leave me alone?”
With a sudden burst of energy, Fargo whips around and swipes at the young boy with the ice pack.
“Get that shit away from me!”
The two young boys back up and stare at Fargo bewildered. Fargo points at them and gestures for them to…
“PISS OFF!”
…piss off. Fargo leans himself up against the wall and slumps down to the floor. He groans and grimaces as molten hot daggers of pain shoot up his battleworn body. Beads of sweet fall from his brow and land on the floor with a satisfying pitter patter.
“Last thing I need is for a pair of cunts that can’t understand a damn thing I’m saying to be buzzing around me like flies to shit. So, would ya piss off already?!”
Fargo looks up and realises they’ve already left. Fargo lets out a sigh of relief. He is mumbling but it’s all unintelligible. He tosses his head back and it thuds against the wall. He closes his eyes.
“Right about now I should be sittin’ at a table with a stack of beers and shiny new Championship sittin’ in front of me. My senses should be overloaded with the sounds of cameras clicking and being barraged by questions in Japanese. I should be waiting for a translator to translate questions for me to answer. I’d say all kinds of shit, like how great of a competitor Dylan Black was, how honoured I am to be here in Hokkaido, how welcomed I’ve felt by the Japanese fans and how I’ve always felt like this country is like a second home. Finally, I’d wrap it all up by saying how proud I am to be Visual Kai Champion and how excited I am for the future.”
“Instead I’m sittin’ here with nothin’. Not a goddamn thing. All I needed was one single second more. One more second…”
Fargo rests for a moment. He stares off into the far off void. A few heavy breaths later, a sharp pain shoots up the side of his neck. He grimaces through gritted teeth as he raises a hand to hold his neck.
“Wasn’t ‘sposed to go down this way…but…but…”
Fargo, overcome by adrenaline, lurches to his knees and leans to the camera with his eyes wide open. He begins shouting.
“YOU AREN’T FINISHED WITH ME?!?! NAH! IT’S WE!!! WE!!! AREN’T FINISHED! NOT BECAUSE YOU SAID SO, BUT BECAUSE YOU’RE! STILL! BREATHING!!! AND WE WON’T BE FINISHED UNTIL THAT STOPS!”
Fargo struggles to his knee, he clutches his neck again.
“YOU WANT DEATH?! HUH?! YOU WANT DEATH?!”
Fargo’s demeanour changes. Focus. Intensity. Yet cold. Calm. He stares a whole into the camera and talks in a more hushed tone.
“You will die and you will die FAST! I will rip the robotic limbs from your body and use them to beat your brains into paste! I will latch my teeth onto your fucking THROAT and only once I feel your blood pool in my mouth will I be truly satisfied. You want death?”
Fargo shakes his head derisively.
“I don’t think you do.”
“Once the adrenaline wears off, once you understand how close, how fucking CLOSE I came to taking everything from you, once it sets in, and I mean TRULY sets in. You’ll understand what you’re gonna be walking into. You’ll realise that, no, you don’t want death. But, it’s too late.”
“Anomoly?”
“You. Are. Fucked.”