Real Training (Terry Club/EOD Final Night #2)
Oct 22, 2020 21:32:08 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Kira Izumi, and 2 more like this
Post by ForeverKuroi on Oct 22, 2020 21:32:08 GMT -5
(This RP is a collaboration between Greg and I.)
Our scene opens from the perspective of somebody who has just been frantically unloaded off of an ambulance on a stretcher. EMTs and paramedics are rushing the man inside and exchanging medical information about the patient with an accompanying hospital nurse, who is escorting them towards the hospital.
Paramedic #1: Patient is in severe condition. Due to interference from his emergency contact, we have had trouble identifying the patient’s vitals signs.
Above all the talking, background noise, and ambulance sirens blaring, we can hear the booming, happy-go-lucky voice of Terry Bradshaw.
: I told you, I’m pretty sure it’s cancer.
Paramedic #2: Sir, that may be the case but there are still several othe-
: I know, I know, all types of different vital signs. Cancer, Scorpio, one of them I think is your sense of smell, and there’s another one where you just straight up shit blood. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out how vital a sign that is to lay off the Chipotle, it means there’s nothing left in your body to cleanse. But hey, I’m no doctor.
Paramedic #1: Yes sir, we are aware, but we are medically trained professionals, and we are trying to get your friend to a doctor, because he absolutely needs one. Now please, your partner needs help.
From the patient’s perspective, we see Terry Bradshaw lean over the stretcher and point a finger at one of the paramedics who is rushing this person towards the emergency entrance doors of the hospital.
: Well you can try if you like, but I’m telling ya, you’re wasting your time. I’ve seen a million cases just like this, and they all turn out the same way. Listen, if he was still alive, he’d probably want us all to go out and have a drink in his memory, don’t you think?
Paramedic #2: Sir, he IS still alive! We’d like to take care of him but if we’re going to do that effectively it’s probably best if you just wait outside and get some fresh air.
: I get it, I get it, you guys want to scrap him for spare parts before the body gets cold and starts to rot. Trust me, things have been rotting inside this man for decades, there’s nothing you can do for him. I’m pretty sure a family of mice used to live somewhere in his body but they found it to be “too urban” whatever that means. But hey, be my guest. Now who do I talk to about the life insurance policy I have on him? I was hoping to make a donation to a presidential campaign my friend is running in his name, but I just wouldn’t feel right about using my own money.
The paramedics finally reach the entrance to the hospital and continue to rush the patient in, as we see the night sky fly overhead, followed by a seemingly endless stream of bright ceiling lights.
: Alright, well if by some chance he makes it, you tell him he better not chicken out of our tag team match! I’ve come too far to be dragged down into the mud by some fuc-
As we go further into the hospital, Bradshaw’s voice becomes more distant. We can hear him blurt out some final last words to his apparent friend.
: Get well better, buddy! You can do it, I believe in you!
The scene ends abruptly as we are still experiencing the frantic nature of an emergency hospital visit.
Earlier That Day…
We open up with Terry Bradshaw seated in his traditional office.
Everything seems normal, except for the always abnormal Bradshaw who is smiling from ear to ear as usual, but staring off into space as if he’s having a staring competition with the wall across the room. What is he looking at? Why is he smiling? What kind of murderous thoughts are rolling through the demented mind of this psychotic frea-
Suddenly the door to Terry’s office bursts open, and its none other than Copycat, who is uncharacteristically seething with anger.
: That’s it, Mr. Bradshaw! I’ve had it! I quit Terry Club!
Terry just continues to stare off into space.
: Did you hear me? You’ve gone too far this time, Mr. Bradshaw. You crossed the line!
More staring and eerie silence from Terry.
: So, nothing to say for yourself for once, eh? I should have known I couldn’t trust you. You said you were going to train me, and then you start with more mixed signals, more pain, more suffering, more trouble for me! When’s it gonna end!
Copycat, who is carrying a duffle bag, tries to raise it into the air to show Terry. However, from behind him, out of focus, we see a dark blurry figure drop down from the ceiling behind Copycat. Copycat, who is enraged at Terry, points a finger at him from across his desk made of cash.
: I’m telling you, I’ve had it! And for once I’d like you to explain yourself to me! Because let me tell you, this is the straw that broke the camels back!
Suddenly the blade of a hunting knife appears, pressed against the throat of poor Copycat.
Assassin: The slow blade penetrates the shield…
Copycat is thrown to the ground, and turns around to see…. Terry Bradshaw?
: Terry? But… you’re…
: Just shut up, these things have a word limit and I can’t afford to have you waste it. The charming stud you were speaking to just now isn’t actually me. You see, I contacted a Japanese company that makes those ultra realistic sex dolls, and I had them make one of me.
: Why? So you could use it as a decoy for intruders?
: Uh.. yeah, sure.
There is an uncomfortable silence as Copycat angrily looks up at Terry who is smiling as always.
: Mr. Bradshaw… did you have sex with the doll of yourself?
: Not really.
: Not really? What does that mean? And haven't you done this before?
: I'm gonna be real honest with you, I don't remember, and I don't see what difference it makes. Listen. This is the second time I've had to mention the word count, and I will NOT be bringing it up again. The next time, I’m just going to poke at you with my knife real hard. Is that clear?
Copycat looks down, dejected.
: Yes Mr. Bradsh….. wait a minute, no! I came here because I’m mad at you!
: OH YEAH? FOR WHAT?
We suddenly jump to a moment from the day prior. We see Terry sitting in the driver’s seat of a very large monster truck, engine rumbling like a force of nature to be reckoned with. Behind the monster truck, poor tiny little Copycat is harnessed to the rear.
: Mr. Bradshaw, I know you want me to have great cardio by running a lot but this seems pretty excessive.
Terry doesn’t listen, tramps the gas, and the monster truck flies forward with such force, Copycat flies forward, head slamming into the door of the truck bed, before he is flung backwards into the air and then HARD down into the dirt, where he is dragged, flying over bumps and through huge puddles of water violently.
: That was a good idea! It would have worked if you would have just put in a little effort.
: I’m not even talking about that! Remember the other week when you accused me of using steroids? Well first of all, I told you I wasn’t taking steroids. And secondly, you went too far trying to scare me out of taking them! And thirdly, now I know you’re a hypocrite!
Earlier That Day
: Alright, fine. You're bitching quite enough. You want your REAL training now?
: Mr. Bradshaw, you're not listening! I don't want i-...real training?
: I'll be honest with you, Copycat. I've been fucking with you. I've made you look like a fool.
Copycat's mouth drops.
: But... But why? My skin has been bruised! Bones have been broken! MY LIFE HAS BEEN RUINED!
: And I laughed, Copycat.
Terry Bradshaw grins as he bends down, picks up a cat, and pets it.
: ...I laughed.
Without a single word, Terry Bradshaw opens a nearby window, and throws the cat out. The sound of a cat screaming in pain sounds before the sounds of three wolves bark, growl and roar. Shortly after, the sounds of flesh being ripped apart is heard.
: But even the best jokes can only be repeated only so often before they're played out. And maybe we're done playing with you, Copycat. Meet me at the gym. Meet me at the gym in one hour.
Forty five minutes later
Copycat enters a room. it's pitch black. Copycat switches the lights on and the light illuminates Terry Bradshaw's face. Copycat has dingy and ratty shorts on. Terry Bradshaw, however, is dressed like...
: You're late, Copycat.
: I'm not late, and you NEVER TOLD ME WHERE IT WAS!
: You should have asked.
: I DID. I EVEN TRIED FOLLOWING YOU, BUT YOU PEPPER SPRAYED ME.
: So let's get ready. Follow me.
As soon as Terry said, "follow me", Copycat raises an eyebrow. He follows him, but with great distance. They both stop when they get to two punching bags.
: There are three rules of being a champion, Copycat. The first is knowledge. Now what do we have in front of us?
: Uhhh... A punching bag?
Terry Bradshaw smiles and nods his head.
: Good. Good. So the second rule is strength. Now watch closely.
Terry Bradshaw pulls back his arm and with every ounce of strength he has, he slams his fist against the punching bag. The bag swings back viciously and flies. Copycat watches intently. Terry Bradshaw's shirt darkens under the moob area.
: Your turn.
Copycat pulls his hand back all the way and shoots it further. Copycat immediately screams and he drops to the floor. The bag does not move.
: OH MY GOD! IT HURTS! MR. BRADSHAW, I THINK MY HAND IS BROKEN!?
: I punched a bag, Copycat. What you punched was a giant slab of concrete which has been shaped and painted like a punching bag. You assumed, Copycat. You failed rule number one. Now do you know why you failed?
: OH PLEASE CALL AN AMBULANCE! I THINK SOMETHING IS DISLOCATED TOO!
: That's right! You were arrogant! You were cocky! How can we win at Gendered Ways if you are so cocky you think you can just punch your way through to victory!
: I DON'T THINK I'M STROOOOOOOOW IT HURTS!
: You're right! It does hurt! It's painful to fail to not think about your problems before you act! Copycat, you can't drink the juice and inject the juice into your system forever. You can't keep living with that handicap!
: CAN WE CALL 9-1-1.
: LET'S TALK ABOUT CALLING, SHALL WE? Gwen Stefani just called Jimmy Sneaker a swimmer! And his little tag team group, Masters of the Match, called you a sandwich! HE CALLED US TERRY CUCK!
: NO HE DIDN'T! TERRY, YOU'RE A MONSTER!
And just like that, Terry Bradshaw formed a grin across his face. He crouches down, brings his face nose to nose against Copycat, and whispers just loudly enough for him to hear.
: ...a monster, huh? Well, let the real training begin. You just activated rule number three.
The scene fades to...
Paramedic #1: Patient is in severe condition. Due to interference from his emergency contact, we have had trouble identifying the patient’s vitals signs.
Above all the talking, background noise, and ambulance sirens blaring, we can hear the booming, happy-go-lucky voice of Terry Bradshaw. His response carries about it an err of sarcasm about it, where it didn't show as evident the first time around.
: I told you, I’m pretty sure it’s cancer.
He gives off an innocent shrug. The camera then zooms to Terry Bradshaw's smile. His eyes narrow. The scene fades to black.