Communication Breakdown [Eric Dane and "friends"]
Oct 28, 2020 8:06:27 GMT -5
SWAT Team, Oh-Oh, and 1 more like this
Post by Justin on Oct 28, 2020 8:06:27 GMT -5
Through the curtain.
Past Gorilla.
Down the hallway.
Into the media scrum.
Scott Steel convulses into the room. He’s dripping in sweat from head to toe, a fountain of it cascading from his quivering brow. His eyes are wide and his teeth gnash with aggression before he shouts a line of incomprehensible rage at the gathered press.
Steel: TOLDEMIDCRUSHTHOSETWOPOUNDSHITSINFIVEGALLONSACK!
Strutting into the room behind The Mountain of a man with an easy smirk across his face, Eric Dane wastes absolutely no time mugging for the snapping cameras and lightly clicking phones pointed at him from behind a folding table set up in front of a Northern Pro Wrestling backdrop emblazoned with little XHF Network logos at each corner.
A couple of chairs sit behind the table with a ficus off to the side.
Steel, unsatisfied with simply yelling incomprehensibly, grabs the table and powerbombs it into the floor. Of course the table explodes into splinters, sending a few of the dirt sheet goons scrambling.
Scott Steel’s laughter is terrifying, a deep throated roar more animal than human.
Steel: NOWLISTENTOTHEMANTELLITLIKEITIS!
The Antagonist takes a bow then taps the side of his head to remind everybody in attendance that as always, Eric Dane is the smartest person in the room.
Dane: What, you mooks thought that dickless twerp Alex Turner was the only one around here that knows how to plot and scheme?
Steel: IDONTTHINKSODICKLESS!
Dane: Now, to address the…
Eric takes a glance at the giant, seemingly uncontrollable rage machine beside him.
Dane: Elephant in the room… Yeah, I brought the Marvelous Mass of Menacing Muscle here to the NPW. Yes, I trained him down in New Orleans at the Crescent City Fight Club. And yes his purpose here at all times is to make sure that my business is handled properly, and that none of you peon twerps fuck around and get yourselves involved in it! What you saw out there tonight? That was just a taste of the kind of Raw Potato Thunder this man brings to the table, and if ya can’t figure out what that means to the rest of the NPW roster, then I’m begging you to get out of this business! Out of MY business!
The Only Star is overtly proud of himself. Scott Steel rubs his hands together while combining the abilities of looming with menacing. Bulging veins stand out where his neck should be.
Dane: Now that I’ve hopped effortlessly through ol’ Gus’s first little hoop-
There is a commotion off to the side, from the same direction that Dane and Steel came from only moments ago. Maverick and Danuwaanalihi emerge simultaneously through the doorway and they both look ready to continue the fight.
Dane: Somebody get the Teenage Mutant Midget Turtle and Dances With Wolves their little participation trophies and get ‘em outta my sight! HIT THE BRICKS LOSERS!
Scott Steel gives a deep, cortex-melting belly laugh. Mav and Danu have already had enough, again, and they are on Dane and Steel in an instant, Mav trading punches with Dane and Danu doing his best to avoid catching himself a heaping helping of raw potato thunder. Steel was less discerning in his targets. Everything fitting the “not Eric Dane” category found themselves the target of The Mountain. The action became too frantic to easily describe, but Danu managed to avoid the podium hurled like a handful of pellets at the area he was surrounded by. Formica and a trailing microphone cable were the only proof that it was ever a useful item.
Event Staff and Security goons flood the room, the latter trying to get between the battling titans and the former trying to get the gathered pool of wrestling press safely out of the way as all hell breaks loose around them. It looks like things are going to come under control relatively quickly for about one quarter of one nanosecond.
BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!
Like some kind of reverse Kool-aid Man “Timeless” Alex Turner erupts through the accumulated rubble with Roxylishus in tow.
Roxylishus: Look at all them big bad men writhing all over each other!
Timeless: Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?
Roxy, ever the harlot, makes a cutesy face, scrunching her nose and batting her eyes.
Roxylishus: I doubt it, tee-hee!
It had taken four security guys to break Dane and Maverick apart, but the two that are pushing Dane backward quickly lose control as he splits them like a linebacker with a swim-move through a weak offensive line and he takes a running leap at Sir Winsalot. Roxy dives out of the way as Dane and Turner tumble to the ground only to be piled on by security and separated before either man can get a good lick in.
It’s at this point the six or so security guards who are holding back Steel are overwhelmed, a dam of flab no longer able to contain his raucous indignation. Breaking free, he makes an absolute b-line for Roxy, not being beholden to things like “chivalry” and Roxy being slightly closer means Turner has to decide. Keep going for Dane or pull Roxy out of harm’s way? Timeless makes a tactical decision and grabs his girlfriend by the waist. Security moves, as Steel just barely misses lummoxing them both with a double clothesline.
Steel, who somehow is even more enraged at this, grabs the nearest security dork and hoists him like a sack of famous Idaho potatoes. He Powerbombs the poor schmuck at the charging Maverick and Danuwaanalihi while Timeless and Roxy get away. Somehow more security has been roused, and what is best described as a double swarm engulf Scott Steel, pushing him back against a wall.
Dane: None of you idiots stand a chance! You think I won’t bring that giant crazy fuck with me to the Lethal Rumble! NORTHERN PRO BELONGS TO ME! GET IT! ERIC DANE! THE REST OF YOU ASSHOLES CAN GO BACK TO WHEREVERTHEFUCK YOU CAME FROM!!!
More beef floods the room, you guessed it:
Even. More. Security.
Cut away to anything else, just break the feed.
Past Gorilla.
Down the hallway.
Into the media scrum.
Scott Steel convulses into the room. He’s dripping in sweat from head to toe, a fountain of it cascading from his quivering brow. His eyes are wide and his teeth gnash with aggression before he shouts a line of incomprehensible rage at the gathered press.
Steel: TOLDEMIDCRUSHTHOSETWOPOUNDSHITSINFIVEGALLONSACK!
Strutting into the room behind The Mountain of a man with an easy smirk across his face, Eric Dane wastes absolutely no time mugging for the snapping cameras and lightly clicking phones pointed at him from behind a folding table set up in front of a Northern Pro Wrestling backdrop emblazoned with little XHF Network logos at each corner.
A couple of chairs sit behind the table with a ficus off to the side.
Steel, unsatisfied with simply yelling incomprehensibly, grabs the table and powerbombs it into the floor. Of course the table explodes into splinters, sending a few of the dirt sheet goons scrambling.
Scott Steel’s laughter is terrifying, a deep throated roar more animal than human.
Steel: NOWLISTENTOTHEMANTELLITLIKEITIS!
The Antagonist takes a bow then taps the side of his head to remind everybody in attendance that as always, Eric Dane is the smartest person in the room.
Dane: What, you mooks thought that dickless twerp Alex Turner was the only one around here that knows how to plot and scheme?
Steel: IDONTTHINKSODICKLESS!
Dane: Now, to address the…
Eric takes a glance at the giant, seemingly uncontrollable rage machine beside him.
Dane: Elephant in the room… Yeah, I brought the Marvelous Mass of Menacing Muscle here to the NPW. Yes, I trained him down in New Orleans at the Crescent City Fight Club. And yes his purpose here at all times is to make sure that my business is handled properly, and that none of you peon twerps fuck around and get yourselves involved in it! What you saw out there tonight? That was just a taste of the kind of Raw Potato Thunder this man brings to the table, and if ya can’t figure out what that means to the rest of the NPW roster, then I’m begging you to get out of this business! Out of MY business!
The Only Star is overtly proud of himself. Scott Steel rubs his hands together while combining the abilities of looming with menacing. Bulging veins stand out where his neck should be.
Dane: Now that I’ve hopped effortlessly through ol’ Gus’s first little hoop-
There is a commotion off to the side, from the same direction that Dane and Steel came from only moments ago. Maverick and Danuwaanalihi emerge simultaneously through the doorway and they both look ready to continue the fight.
Dane: Somebody get the Teenage Mutant Midget Turtle and Dances With Wolves their little participation trophies and get ‘em outta my sight! HIT THE BRICKS LOSERS!
Scott Steel gives a deep, cortex-melting belly laugh. Mav and Danu have already had enough, again, and they are on Dane and Steel in an instant, Mav trading punches with Dane and Danu doing his best to avoid catching himself a heaping helping of raw potato thunder. Steel was less discerning in his targets. Everything fitting the “not Eric Dane” category found themselves the target of The Mountain. The action became too frantic to easily describe, but Danu managed to avoid the podium hurled like a handful of pellets at the area he was surrounded by. Formica and a trailing microphone cable were the only proof that it was ever a useful item.
Event Staff and Security goons flood the room, the latter trying to get between the battling titans and the former trying to get the gathered pool of wrestling press safely out of the way as all hell breaks loose around them. It looks like things are going to come under control relatively quickly for about one quarter of one nanosecond.
BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!
Like some kind of reverse Kool-aid Man “Timeless” Alex Turner erupts through the accumulated rubble with Roxylishus in tow.
Roxylishus: Look at all them big bad men writhing all over each other!
Timeless: Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?
Roxy, ever the harlot, makes a cutesy face, scrunching her nose and batting her eyes.
Roxylishus: I doubt it, tee-hee!
It had taken four security guys to break Dane and Maverick apart, but the two that are pushing Dane backward quickly lose control as he splits them like a linebacker with a swim-move through a weak offensive line and he takes a running leap at Sir Winsalot. Roxy dives out of the way as Dane and Turner tumble to the ground only to be piled on by security and separated before either man can get a good lick in.
It’s at this point the six or so security guards who are holding back Steel are overwhelmed, a dam of flab no longer able to contain his raucous indignation. Breaking free, he makes an absolute b-line for Roxy, not being beholden to things like “chivalry” and Roxy being slightly closer means Turner has to decide. Keep going for Dane or pull Roxy out of harm’s way? Timeless makes a tactical decision and grabs his girlfriend by the waist. Security moves, as Steel just barely misses lummoxing them both with a double clothesline.
Steel, who somehow is even more enraged at this, grabs the nearest security dork and hoists him like a sack of famous Idaho potatoes. He Powerbombs the poor schmuck at the charging Maverick and Danuwaanalihi while Timeless and Roxy get away. Somehow more security has been roused, and what is best described as a double swarm engulf Scott Steel, pushing him back against a wall.
Dane: None of you idiots stand a chance! You think I won’t bring that giant crazy fuck with me to the Lethal Rumble! NORTHERN PRO BELONGS TO ME! GET IT! ERIC DANE! THE REST OF YOU ASSHOLES CAN GO BACK TO WHEREVERTHEFUCK YOU CAME FROM!!!
More beef floods the room, you guessed it:
Even. More. Security.
Cut away to anything else, just break the feed.
