The Big Bang (KWF/Showcase)
May 26, 2017 16:24:20 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and Rage (aka NoMercyMaster2001) like this
Post by strangerdanger on May 26, 2017 16:24:20 GMT -5
OOC: No real animals were harmed in the making of this RP
Our scene opens up with two men stumbling down an old dirt road. They seem to be sauntering through what seems to be a medieval village of some sort. We, the viewers, know this to of course be The Kingdom, a place where the stars of KWF are liable to cross paths, but these two men seem to be unaware of their location. Passing a bottle of liquor back and forth, and clearly intoxicated, both men loudly grumble towards one another as they march down the dirt road.
As the men break out in obnoxious laughter, an armor clad knight rides past them on a horse, but stops to address the men.
Knight: Good day, fine sirs! I must say, thou dost taketh interest in thee! A Lord of the North and weary from travel, I couldst useth a good meal, and strong drink! Doth thee has't whiskey in that bottle? Thou would gladly welcome a drink!
: FUCK OFF, QUEER.
The Knight seems bewildered and taken back by this.
Knight: Why, in all my days, I've never heard such vile language! Thou ist lucky I am nearing the end of my travels and weary, for I would dismount my loyal steed and strike thee down with the stroke of my blade!
Terry takes a swig from the whiskey bottle, and hands it off to his companion, CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, who begins to chug it.
: Yeah, whatever. Go stroke your blade somewhere else.
Knight: I beg your pardon! I doth protest thy vile manner in which thou speak!
Terry begins to get tired of this conversation, and pulls out a .50 calibur magnum and points it at the Knight.
: Hit the bricks Optimus Prime, or I swear to God I'll pull the trigger and blow you to Kingdom come.
Pun intended.
Knight: Why, what kind of contraption dost thee present to thou? Some sort of witchcraf-
Terry interrupts the Knight, and shoots the horse several times, causing it to collapse. The knight falls from the horse and cries out in terror.
Knight: My loyal steed, Brad! Nay! Nay! Thou dosth cry out, nay! I cry your mercy, loyal steed! Nay! Nay! Nay!
Terry and CK Owens bust out into obnoxious laughter and continue to walk down the dirt road, as the Knight removes his helmet, tears running down his face as he mourns the sudden death of his horse. Some would call it murder. Not Terry Bradshaw, of course.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: HAHAHA! Did you hear that guy, Rancor? "Nay! Nay" Stupid fucker thinks he's a horse!
: What a crack pot! See, Owens? That's what happens when you take too much LSD. You're reduced into a sniveling, crazy, irrational shell of a man! You and I, we need to steer clear of drugs like that. We need to stay sharp and witty, like we always are! Anyways, where was I, before we were so rudely interrupted? Oh, that's right. So like I was telling you before - I found out my ex-wife's new husband is physically abusive. Boy, when I heard that, it made me wanna go over there with my Magnum...and then blame the murder on him!
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: HAHA! That's a great joke, Rancor.
: I'm not joking. I spent days planning to kill her, execution style. Then I was gonna wipe my finger prints off the weapon, and frame her new husband.
For some reason, both men laugh even harder at this sinister remark. There's nothing funny about premeditated murder, kids.
: Now, where is that rat bastard...
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: I'm right here!
: Not you, Owens. I'm referring to my opponent at Showcase, Gold-Borg. Remember our plan! We were told he was hanging out in this area somewhere, so we decided to come down here and rough him up a little bit. Give him a taste of what he's got coming to him when we step into the wrestling ring!
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Ohhhh, right, right. Well, maybe he's over there!
CK Owens points to a nearby tavern.
: Owens, for once in your life can you get your mind off the booze, you blithering drunk? You've got all the alcohol we could ever need in that magic vest of yours. No point wasting any time in a damn tavern! Gold-Borg is a noble warrior, he wouldn't be caught dead in an establishment surrounded by drunks and fools! No, this is a man of great focus! Sheer will! Commitment and brutality!
Owens nods his head. However, something catches his eye in the distance.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Rancor! Look! Over there!
Terry follows Owens' stare, up to a hill just down the road. At the top of the hill, we see the sillohette of a man who appears to be training with a punching bag that hangs from a tree.
: Why, Owens, you brilliant drunk! You're a genius! That's gotta be him. He's not down here in this village with all the peasants! He's up on that hill, training for his battle! Little does he know, he's in for a fight much sooner than he thinks! Lets go!
Terry grabs the whiskey bottle from Owens, and takes a big long chug of liquor, before handing it back to CK and running towards the hill. Moments later, Terry and CK slow down, as they crouch close to the ground and attempt to sneak up on who they think is Gold-Borg.
: Look at this pathetic weasel, Owens. I was told I'd be fighting a monster, a beast! This man looks like a scrawny little twink! Perhaps this while be an easier fight than I originally thought!
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: I don't know, Rancor. Looks can be deceiving. How should we attack him? Should we go with the classic "Spit in the face, then two-arm bars?" like you said before?
: No, no, I don't want him to be suspicious of my strategy in the match. Better to catch him off guard with the element of surprise. Here, look... this outta ruffle his feathers.
Terry holds up his .50 caliber magnum, that he shot the horse with just moments ago.
: I'm gonna put one right between his eyes. Let him know what's what.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Rancor, you need to think this through. That'll kill him. You're talking about murdering the guy, not "roughing him up" before your match! You shoot him in the head, he'll be dead in a second!
: Fine. I'll shoot him in the stomach then and leave him to bleed out slowly.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: NO! That's just as ba- ugh, you know what? Just put the gun away. We'll just knock him down, and kick him a lot. That should be enough.
: Fine, fine. I'll holster my weapon for now.
Our camera angle pans to the very top of the hill, where we see the silhouette hitting the punching bag, while grunting. Immediately we realize, this is not Terry Bradshaw's opponent, Gold-Borg. Rather, this is none other than Copycat! He is attempting to train for his "match" against "The Phallic Fighter" Francis Fischer.
Terry Bradshaw and CK owens are clearly none the wiser to the identity of Copycat, either due to being drunk, or because they're insane, or both, as we can see them sneaking up behind him.
: LET'S GET HIM!
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: THIS ONE IS FOR THE RATS!
: AND THE CLOCK!
: Wha-
Before Copycat can turn around to see what is happening, Terry and CK Owens jump him and tackle him to the ground. Viciously, they both rise up and begin to stomp on Copycat. As they relentlessly pummel Copycat with kicks, CK and Terry begin a conversation.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: You know Rancor, I don't think this is Gold-Borg!
: Nonsense! We already assumed that it was him, no sense turning back now!
Copycat tries to plead, but Terry kicks him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: No, look!
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens kicks Copycat in the shin, causing him to scream out in pain.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: It's just a little bald kid! He's not a monster! He has no powers. He isn't covered in golden armor! It can't be the right guy!
: You may be right! Let's ask him.
Terry stops kicking Copycat, and clears his throat, as if he's about to speak. Copycat begins to climb to his feet, dusting himself off. Terry smiles and nods at Copycat, and then without warning he headbutts him, causing the poor little guy to stumble backwards, grabbing his face.
: Ow! My nose!
: Yes, that is your nose. Everyone "nose" that! Haha, get it, CK? Everyone "nose"!
CK Owens, who has already begun to chug more of his whiskey, spits out a mouthful of it and begins to roar with laughter.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Oh that's a good one, Rancor.
: Anyways, why did you guys attack m-
Terry interrupts Copycat with a slap to the face.
: You are in no position to be demanding answers from us, young blood! We shall ask the questions. Now, are you, or are you not, the One they call Gold-Borg?
Copycat shakes his head, with his hand pressed against his cheek in pain.
: No! I'm-
Terry slaps Copycat again.
: That will do, pig. NEXT QUESTION. Who are you, exactly?
: I'm Copycat. Former mega star from the XHF! I'm here to train for my upcoming match, to recapture the glory of my past!
: ...Copycat?
Suddenly, something clicks in the mind of crazy old Terry Bradshaw, and he throws his hands up in the air in celebration.
: COPYCAT! YES! Yes, I know you, boy! I've heard tales of your bravery! One of the all-time greats in the XHF, you were almost as successful as me! I always regretted that our paths never crossed back in those days! You would have made for a fierce opponent, and a great partner! You're one of my heroes!
: Why, thank yo-
Before Copycat can finish his sentence, Terry spits in his face.
: What the fu-
: Don't mention it, boy. Just take the compliment. Now, Copycat, what are you doing up on this hill, fighting a bag for?
: Well, I'm training for my match at Showcase! I'm supposed to face the EE Champion, "The Phallic Fighter" Franc-
: Yes, yes. Francis Fischer. Everybody knows about that match. It's sure to be a brawl for the ages! I too am preparing for my match at Showcase, against the feared Gold-Bor-
: Gold-Borg! Yes! I'm more than aware! I've been studying your tapes, Mr. Bradshaw. I'm a big fan. I was hoping that by watching your tapes, maybe I could learn something from you! After all, everyone knows you're the brightest bulb on a Christmas tree, you're the sharpest knife in the drawer!
Terry's eyes narrow, and he leans over to CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, who has opened another bottle of whiskey and is chugging it, oblivious to what is going on. Terry whispers to him.
: I can't tell if he's threatening me or not. Just to be sure...
Terry pulls out a large hunting knife from inside his suit jacket, and points it at Copycat.
: Wrong, young friend...THIS is the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I'm gonna cut your throa-
CK Owens takes a break from drinking, and stops Bradshaw from attempting to murder Copycat on the spot.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Rancor, don't be a dumbass. He's trying to give you a compliment, by way of metaphor. He's not talking about a literal knife, he's trying to say you're smart.
: Oh....
Terry puts his knife away and smiles at Copycat.
: In that case, I'll make you an offer you can't refuse, boy. You don't have to settle for watching all the thousands and thousands of tapes chronicling my great matches of the old XHF days! Instead, you can hang out with the man himself! I'll teach you all that I know, Copycat, and in the process, perhaps I'll learn a little something from you too!
: Wow, really! Gee, Mr. Bradshaw, that would be great! I welcome the opportunity.
: Smart words! Now Copycat, before I begin to manipulate you in order to prepare for my Showcase match against Gold-Borg, show me some of your training techniques. What was that really clever move you were doing on this punching bag before we nearly murdered you in cold blood?
Copycat's eyes widen for a second, because he really had no clue how close he was to being killed. After breathing a sigh of relief, Copycat answers.
: Well, I was just punching it.
: Well played, sir. A sound strategist if there ever was one. Punching a punching bag, that's genius! See this, Owens?
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens is barely standing up straight as he continues his drinking.
: There's a lot we could learn from this prodigy. Tell me Copycat, what other abilities do you have besides your advanced striking maneuvers?
: Well...there is one thing I can do that's pretty cool...
: Is that so? Well, boy, show us then!
: Okay. Close your eyes!
Terry's eyes narrow again with great suspicion.
: The last time someone told me to close my eyes, 9/11 happened. But I'll risk it just this once, because you seem trustworthy.
Terry closes his eyes. CK Owens' eyes are already closed, because his head is tilted back as he continues to chug away on his whiskey bottle. The man takes his drinking very seriously, as evidenced by 100% of his behavior. Terry keeps his eyes shut.
: Okay... now open your eyes, Mr. Bradshaw! Look what I can do!
Bradshaw opens his eyes, and is astonished to see that Copycat is nowhere to be seen! His amazement soon turns to unbridled rage, however, when he sees that instead of Copycat standing before him, he is now looking at none other than Academy Award winning actress, Meryl Streep.
Meryl Streep: See? Isn't this coo-
Terry Bradshaw doesn't hesitate, and immediately lunges at Meryl Streep, pinning her up against the tree near the punching bag. He pulls out his gun, and sticks it in Meryl Streep's mouth.
: I've got you now, you bitch! Now, two things are going to happen. First, you're going to answer my questions. Then, no matter how honest you are, no matter how truthful you are, no matter how much you help me, I'm going to blow your head off and splatter this tree with your brains! No negotiating, no comprimising, that's it. That's how this story ends. You're gonna be respectful, honest, and obediant, and then BOOM! You die, no matter what.
Terry growls with rage, a dangerous look in his eyes.
: First question... HOW DARE YOU?
Meryl Streep can't answer, because the gun is in her mouth.
: Playing hardball, I see. Fine. Next question... WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
Still, Meryl Streep is unable to answer.
: Okay... this is your last chance, sweetheart. WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS GOLD-BORG?
CK Owens takes a break from drinking to breathe, and notices that Terry Bradshaw is about to shoot Meryl Streep in the head.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: RANCOR! NO! YOU CAN'T MURDER MERYL STREEP!
Confused, Terry turns around to look at CK "Rat Bastard" Owens. Owens, for his part, has already gone back to drinking again. When Terry turns around to look back at Meryl Streep, his eyes widen with shock, as he now realizes that in fact, he is not threatening Meryl Streep. It was Copycat all along!
: COPYCAT! My dear boy, I'm sorry!
Terry removes the gun from Copycat's mouth, as tears stream down his face in distress and sadness.
: I thought... I thought you were-
: You thought I was Meryl Streep! That's my power, Mr. Bradshaw! That's my greatest ability! I can shapeshift into anyone I choose to! You name a person, and I can transform my appearance to look exactly like them! That's why they call me Copycat!
: My...my dear lord! Rat Bastard Owens, did you hear that? Our new friend Copycat is a wizard!
Owens isn't paying attention. He is busy opening another bottle of whiskey to chug.
: Well, I wouldn't say I'm a wizard. I can simply transform my appearance. Some people call it "shape-shifting".
: Well, I'll be damned. I thought I was the only shapeshifter in this small world of ours. I have the ability to transform as well. Why, just days ago, I shape-shifted into a British man, in order to evade the police who are after me.
Copycat and CK "Rat Bastard" Owens look at each other and roll their eyes. Owens was present during this charade, and Copycat saw the video of it. They both know well that Terry simply put on a poor disguise that fooled no one. But, because Copycat admires Terry Bradshaw, he pretends to act impressed.
: That's amazing! It seems to me that fate has brought us all together!
: Damn straight, boy. This is no coincidence. We were all meant to join forces! Individually, we are strong, but together, we can be the most dominant faction that the wrestling industry has ever known! The entire world will tremble in fear of our power! Copycat... Owens... you know what this means right?
Copycat and Owens look at Terry, waiting for him to finish his thought.
: Together, we will be known as...B.A.N.G.! Also known as Bradshaw and the Gang! See? It's an acronym! You take the first letter from each word, and put it together, and what do you get? B.A.N.G.!
: But... Mr. Bradshaw... The proper acronym for "Bradshaw And The Gang" would actually be B.A.T.G. It doesn't spel-
Terry suddenly holds up his gun, and without looking, fires the weapon, shooting a crow out of the sky. CK Owens and Copycat are both impressed by this, not realizing that it was just a lucky coincidence on Bradshaw's part. He wasn't even aware of the crow, but still managed to end it's short crow life.
: B.A.N.G.!
: Uh... wow! That was amazing! Anyone who can do that can spell however he wants! B.A.N.G.! Bradshaw and the Gang! Sounds great! So, it'll be you, me, and CK "Rat Bastard" Owens?
: Yes! ...And, aren't you forgetting a few other people?
: Uh...I don't know... am I? I don't see anyone else around?
: Oh, that's right, you haven't met my pretties yet. No faction would be complete without them!
Terry whistles, and then calls out his other friends by name.
: MOSH! THRASHER! HILLBILLY JIM! JOIN US IN THIS MONUMENTAL MOMENT!
Out of nowhere, Terry's three wolves, named Mosh, Thrasher, and Hillbilly Jim come running to Terry, and sit at his feet.
: Oh, your wolves! This is amazing! How did you train them to obey you like that?
: You've got it backwards, boy. I didn't train them. THEY trained ME!
The wolves seem to growl as they glare at Copycat.
: I'm not sure that they like me...
: Oh, nonsense. They are well aware that we have just formed a wrestling faction. The 6 of us are like brothers now. You may pet them if you wish. Consider them your kin.
: Really? Okay...
Copycat reaches out his hand, and attempts to pet Thrasher, who growls at him and bares his teeth.
: Don't be afraid boy, just reach out and pet them if that's what you desire. They can smell your fear, so it's best to just act without thinking about the consequences.
Copycat takes a deep breath and then pets Thrasher on the head. Immediately, Mosh, Thrasher, and Hillbilly Jim all leap forward and attack Copycat, knocking him to the ground. As they attack, Terry lets out a boisterous laugh.
: Ha ha ha! Lesson number one, boy! What have you learned?
Copycat screams as the wolves continue to attack him, clawing and biting at him viciously.
: I... I don't know! Please, Mr. Bradshaw, stop them!
: Stop them? What do I look like, a fascist? They have minds of their own, boy, and they do as they please! It's up to you to earn their respect!
: Mosh! Thrasher! Hillbilly Jim! Knock it off!
This only seems to anger the wolves as they continue to snap at Copycat.
: Do they look like slaves to you, boy? You can't just boss them around like that. Say the magic word!
: ...PLEASE?!
At this, Mosh, Thrasher, and Hillbilly Jim all stop biting at Copycat. They walk in a circle around Terry Bradshaw, and then lay down at his feet, content with their work. Terry laughs again!
: Look at the 6 of us! Happy as pigs in shit!
Terry helps Copycat to his feet and puts his arm around him, and puts another arm around CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, who is still drinking.
: Bradshaw and the Gang! BANG! BANG! The wrestling world won't know what hit it, my friends! "The Phallic Fighter" doesn't stand a chance! And my opponent, Gold-Borg, why he's as good as defeated already! For we are B.A.N.G.! We've got each others backs! Together, nothing can stand in our way. Now come, my friends, for we have training to do! While we're at it, I do believe this calls for a celebration!
Terry looks at CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, waiting for something.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Huh? Oh, right.
From his vest, Owens pulls out three bottles of whiskey. He hands one to Terry and one to Copycat, and opens another one for himself... again. None for the wolves, because they don't drink. They're recovering alcoholics.
: Cheers, gentlemen! Here's to Bradshaw and the Gang! If anyone dares to cross us, we will B.A.N.G. their brains out! Gold-Borg and "The Phallic Fighter" are first on the list! The B.A.N.G. LIST!
All three men clink their bottles together and begin to drink.
A deliriously happy Terry Bradshaw beams with pride and excitement, as he, Copycat, CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, and the 3 wolves, all walk off together, presumably to get drunk and then train for their matches at Showcase. On this note, our scene fades out to black.
Our scene opens up with two men stumbling down an old dirt road. They seem to be sauntering through what seems to be a medieval village of some sort. We, the viewers, know this to of course be The Kingdom, a place where the stars of KWF are liable to cross paths, but these two men seem to be unaware of their location. Passing a bottle of liquor back and forth, and clearly intoxicated, both men loudly grumble towards one another as they march down the dirt road.
As the men break out in obnoxious laughter, an armor clad knight rides past them on a horse, but stops to address the men.
Knight: Good day, fine sirs! I must say, thou dost taketh interest in thee! A Lord of the North and weary from travel, I couldst useth a good meal, and strong drink! Doth thee has't whiskey in that bottle? Thou would gladly welcome a drink!
: FUCK OFF, QUEER. The Knight seems bewildered and taken back by this.
Knight: Why, in all my days, I've never heard such vile language! Thou ist lucky I am nearing the end of my travels and weary, for I would dismount my loyal steed and strike thee down with the stroke of my blade!
Terry takes a swig from the whiskey bottle, and hands it off to his companion, CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, who begins to chug it.
: Yeah, whatever. Go stroke your blade somewhere else.Knight: I beg your pardon! I doth protest thy vile manner in which thou speak!
Terry begins to get tired of this conversation, and pulls out a .50 calibur magnum and points it at the Knight.
: Hit the bricks Optimus Prime, or I swear to God I'll pull the trigger and blow you to Kingdom come. Pun intended.
Knight: Why, what kind of contraption dost thee present to thou? Some sort of witchcraf-
Terry interrupts the Knight, and shoots the horse several times, causing it to collapse. The knight falls from the horse and cries out in terror.
Knight: My loyal steed, Brad! Nay! Nay! Thou dosth cry out, nay! I cry your mercy, loyal steed! Nay! Nay! Nay!
Terry and CK Owens bust out into obnoxious laughter and continue to walk down the dirt road, as the Knight removes his helmet, tears running down his face as he mourns the sudden death of his horse. Some would call it murder. Not Terry Bradshaw, of course.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: HAHAHA! Did you hear that guy, Rancor? "Nay! Nay" Stupid fucker thinks he's a horse!
: What a crack pot! See, Owens? That's what happens when you take too much LSD. You're reduced into a sniveling, crazy, irrational shell of a man! You and I, we need to steer clear of drugs like that. We need to stay sharp and witty, like we always are! Anyways, where was I, before we were so rudely interrupted? Oh, that's right. So like I was telling you before - I found out my ex-wife's new husband is physically abusive. Boy, when I heard that, it made me wanna go over there with my Magnum...and then blame the murder on him! CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: HAHA! That's a great joke, Rancor.
: I'm not joking. I spent days planning to kill her, execution style. Then I was gonna wipe my finger prints off the weapon, and frame her new husband. For some reason, both men laugh even harder at this sinister remark. There's nothing funny about premeditated murder, kids.
: Now, where is that rat bastard...CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: I'm right here!
: Not you, Owens. I'm referring to my opponent at Showcase, Gold-Borg. Remember our plan! We were told he was hanging out in this area somewhere, so we decided to come down here and rough him up a little bit. Give him a taste of what he's got coming to him when we step into the wrestling ring! CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Ohhhh, right, right. Well, maybe he's over there!
CK Owens points to a nearby tavern.
: Owens, for once in your life can you get your mind off the booze, you blithering drunk? You've got all the alcohol we could ever need in that magic vest of yours. No point wasting any time in a damn tavern! Gold-Borg is a noble warrior, he wouldn't be caught dead in an establishment surrounded by drunks and fools! No, this is a man of great focus! Sheer will! Commitment and brutality! Owens nods his head. However, something catches his eye in the distance.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Rancor! Look! Over there!
Terry follows Owens' stare, up to a hill just down the road. At the top of the hill, we see the sillohette of a man who appears to be training with a punching bag that hangs from a tree.
: Why, Owens, you brilliant drunk! You're a genius! That's gotta be him. He's not down here in this village with all the peasants! He's up on that hill, training for his battle! Little does he know, he's in for a fight much sooner than he thinks! Lets go! Terry grabs the whiskey bottle from Owens, and takes a big long chug of liquor, before handing it back to CK and running towards the hill. Moments later, Terry and CK slow down, as they crouch close to the ground and attempt to sneak up on who they think is Gold-Borg.
: Look at this pathetic weasel, Owens. I was told I'd be fighting a monster, a beast! This man looks like a scrawny little twink! Perhaps this while be an easier fight than I originally thought!CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: I don't know, Rancor. Looks can be deceiving. How should we attack him? Should we go with the classic "Spit in the face, then two-arm bars?" like you said before?
: No, no, I don't want him to be suspicious of my strategy in the match. Better to catch him off guard with the element of surprise. Here, look... this outta ruffle his feathers. Terry holds up his .50 caliber magnum, that he shot the horse with just moments ago.
: I'm gonna put one right between his eyes. Let him know what's what. CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Rancor, you need to think this through. That'll kill him. You're talking about murdering the guy, not "roughing him up" before your match! You shoot him in the head, he'll be dead in a second!
: Fine. I'll shoot him in the stomach then and leave him to bleed out slowly. CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: NO! That's just as ba- ugh, you know what? Just put the gun away. We'll just knock him down, and kick him a lot. That should be enough.
: Fine, fine. I'll holster my weapon for now. Our camera angle pans to the very top of the hill, where we see the silhouette hitting the punching bag, while grunting. Immediately we realize, this is not Terry Bradshaw's opponent, Gold-Borg. Rather, this is none other than Copycat! He is attempting to train for his "match" against "The Phallic Fighter" Francis Fischer.
Terry Bradshaw and CK owens are clearly none the wiser to the identity of Copycat, either due to being drunk, or because they're insane, or both, as we can see them sneaking up behind him.
: LET'S GET HIM!CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: THIS ONE IS FOR THE RATS!
: AND THE CLOCK!: Wha-Before Copycat can turn around to see what is happening, Terry and CK Owens jump him and tackle him to the ground. Viciously, they both rise up and begin to stomp on Copycat. As they relentlessly pummel Copycat with kicks, CK and Terry begin a conversation.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: You know Rancor, I don't think this is Gold-Borg!
: Nonsense! We already assumed that it was him, no sense turning back now! Copycat tries to plead, but Terry kicks him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: No, look!
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens kicks Copycat in the shin, causing him to scream out in pain.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: It's just a little bald kid! He's not a monster! He has no powers. He isn't covered in golden armor! It can't be the right guy!
: You may be right! Let's ask him. Terry stops kicking Copycat, and clears his throat, as if he's about to speak. Copycat begins to climb to his feet, dusting himself off. Terry smiles and nods at Copycat, and then without warning he headbutts him, causing the poor little guy to stumble backwards, grabbing his face.
: Ow! My nose! : Yes, that is your nose. Everyone "nose" that! Haha, get it, CK? Everyone "nose"! CK Owens, who has already begun to chug more of his whiskey, spits out a mouthful of it and begins to roar with laughter.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Oh that's a good one, Rancor.
: Anyways, why did you guys attack m-Terry interrupts Copycat with a slap to the face.
: You are in no position to be demanding answers from us, young blood! We shall ask the questions. Now, are you, or are you not, the One they call Gold-Borg?Copycat shakes his head, with his hand pressed against his cheek in pain.
: No! I'm-Terry slaps Copycat again.
: That will do, pig. NEXT QUESTION. Who are you, exactly? : I'm Copycat. Former mega star from the XHF! I'm here to train for my upcoming match, to recapture the glory of my past!: ...Copycat? Suddenly, something clicks in the mind of crazy old Terry Bradshaw, and he throws his hands up in the air in celebration.
: COPYCAT! YES! Yes, I know you, boy! I've heard tales of your bravery! One of the all-time greats in the XHF, you were almost as successful as me! I always regretted that our paths never crossed back in those days! You would have made for a fierce opponent, and a great partner! You're one of my heroes!: Why, thank yo-Before Copycat can finish his sentence, Terry spits in his face.
: What the fu-: Don't mention it, boy. Just take the compliment. Now, Copycat, what are you doing up on this hill, fighting a bag for?: Well, I'm training for my match at Showcase! I'm supposed to face the EE Champion, "The Phallic Fighter" Franc-: Yes, yes. Francis Fischer. Everybody knows about that match. It's sure to be a brawl for the ages! I too am preparing for my match at Showcase, against the feared Gold-Bor-: Gold-Borg! Yes! I'm more than aware! I've been studying your tapes, Mr. Bradshaw. I'm a big fan. I was hoping that by watching your tapes, maybe I could learn something from you! After all, everyone knows you're the brightest bulb on a Christmas tree, you're the sharpest knife in the drawer! Terry's eyes narrow, and he leans over to CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, who has opened another bottle of whiskey and is chugging it, oblivious to what is going on. Terry whispers to him.
: I can't tell if he's threatening me or not. Just to be sure...Terry pulls out a large hunting knife from inside his suit jacket, and points it at Copycat.
: Wrong, young friend...THIS is the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I'm gonna cut your throa-CK Owens takes a break from drinking, and stops Bradshaw from attempting to murder Copycat on the spot.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Rancor, don't be a dumbass. He's trying to give you a compliment, by way of metaphor. He's not talking about a literal knife, he's trying to say you're smart.
: Oh....Terry puts his knife away and smiles at Copycat.
: In that case, I'll make you an offer you can't refuse, boy. You don't have to settle for watching all the thousands and thousands of tapes chronicling my great matches of the old XHF days! Instead, you can hang out with the man himself! I'll teach you all that I know, Copycat, and in the process, perhaps I'll learn a little something from you too! : Wow, really! Gee, Mr. Bradshaw, that would be great! I welcome the opportunity. : Smart words! Now Copycat, before I begin to manipulate you in order to prepare for my Showcase match against Gold-Borg, show me some of your training techniques. What was that really clever move you were doing on this punching bag before we nearly murdered you in cold blood? Copycat's eyes widen for a second, because he really had no clue how close he was to being killed. After breathing a sigh of relief, Copycat answers.
: Well, I was just punching it. : Well played, sir. A sound strategist if there ever was one. Punching a punching bag, that's genius! See this, Owens?CK "Rat Bastard" Owens is barely standing up straight as he continues his drinking.
: There's a lot we could learn from this prodigy. Tell me Copycat, what other abilities do you have besides your advanced striking maneuvers?: Well...there is one thing I can do that's pretty cool...: Is that so? Well, boy, show us then!: Okay. Close your eyes! Terry's eyes narrow again with great suspicion.
: The last time someone told me to close my eyes, 9/11 happened. But I'll risk it just this once, because you seem trustworthy. Terry closes his eyes. CK Owens' eyes are already closed, because his head is tilted back as he continues to chug away on his whiskey bottle. The man takes his drinking very seriously, as evidenced by 100% of his behavior. Terry keeps his eyes shut.
: Okay... now open your eyes, Mr. Bradshaw! Look what I can do! Bradshaw opens his eyes, and is astonished to see that Copycat is nowhere to be seen! His amazement soon turns to unbridled rage, however, when he sees that instead of Copycat standing before him, he is now looking at none other than Academy Award winning actress, Meryl Streep.
Meryl Streep: See? Isn't this coo-
Terry Bradshaw doesn't hesitate, and immediately lunges at Meryl Streep, pinning her up against the tree near the punching bag. He pulls out his gun, and sticks it in Meryl Streep's mouth.
: I've got you now, you bitch! Now, two things are going to happen. First, you're going to answer my questions. Then, no matter how honest you are, no matter how truthful you are, no matter how much you help me, I'm going to blow your head off and splatter this tree with your brains! No negotiating, no comprimising, that's it. That's how this story ends. You're gonna be respectful, honest, and obediant, and then BOOM! You die, no matter what. Terry growls with rage, a dangerous look in his eyes.
: First question... HOW DARE YOU? Meryl Streep can't answer, because the gun is in her mouth.
: Playing hardball, I see. Fine. Next question... WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?Still, Meryl Streep is unable to answer.
: Okay... this is your last chance, sweetheart. WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS GOLD-BORG? CK Owens takes a break from drinking to breathe, and notices that Terry Bradshaw is about to shoot Meryl Streep in the head.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: RANCOR! NO! YOU CAN'T MURDER MERYL STREEP!
Confused, Terry turns around to look at CK "Rat Bastard" Owens. Owens, for his part, has already gone back to drinking again. When Terry turns around to look back at Meryl Streep, his eyes widen with shock, as he now realizes that in fact, he is not threatening Meryl Streep. It was Copycat all along!
: COPYCAT! My dear boy, I'm sorry!Terry removes the gun from Copycat's mouth, as tears stream down his face in distress and sadness.
: I thought... I thought you were-: You thought I was Meryl Streep! That's my power, Mr. Bradshaw! That's my greatest ability! I can shapeshift into anyone I choose to! You name a person, and I can transform my appearance to look exactly like them! That's why they call me Copycat! : My...my dear lord! Rat Bastard Owens, did you hear that? Our new friend Copycat is a wizard!Owens isn't paying attention. He is busy opening another bottle of whiskey to chug.
: Well, I wouldn't say I'm a wizard. I can simply transform my appearance. Some people call it "shape-shifting". : Well, I'll be damned. I thought I was the only shapeshifter in this small world of ours. I have the ability to transform as well. Why, just days ago, I shape-shifted into a British man, in order to evade the police who are after me. Copycat and CK "Rat Bastard" Owens look at each other and roll their eyes. Owens was present during this charade, and Copycat saw the video of it. They both know well that Terry simply put on a poor disguise that fooled no one. But, because Copycat admires Terry Bradshaw, he pretends to act impressed.
: That's amazing! It seems to me that fate has brought us all together!: Damn straight, boy. This is no coincidence. We were all meant to join forces! Individually, we are strong, but together, we can be the most dominant faction that the wrestling industry has ever known! The entire world will tremble in fear of our power! Copycat... Owens... you know what this means right?Copycat and Owens look at Terry, waiting for him to finish his thought.
: Together, we will be known as...B.A.N.G.! Also known as Bradshaw and the Gang! See? It's an acronym! You take the first letter from each word, and put it together, and what do you get? B.A.N.G.! : But... Mr. Bradshaw... The proper acronym for "Bradshaw And The Gang" would actually be B.A.T.G. It doesn't spel-Terry suddenly holds up his gun, and without looking, fires the weapon, shooting a crow out of the sky. CK Owens and Copycat are both impressed by this, not realizing that it was just a lucky coincidence on Bradshaw's part. He wasn't even aware of the crow, but still managed to end it's short crow life.
: B.A.N.G.! : Uh... wow! That was amazing! Anyone who can do that can spell however he wants! B.A.N.G.! Bradshaw and the Gang! Sounds great! So, it'll be you, me, and CK "Rat Bastard" Owens? : Yes! ...And, aren't you forgetting a few other people?: Uh...I don't know... am I? I don't see anyone else around? : Oh, that's right, you haven't met my pretties yet. No faction would be complete without them!Terry whistles, and then calls out his other friends by name.
: MOSH! THRASHER! HILLBILLY JIM! JOIN US IN THIS MONUMENTAL MOMENT!Out of nowhere, Terry's three wolves, named Mosh, Thrasher, and Hillbilly Jim come running to Terry, and sit at his feet.
: Oh, your wolves! This is amazing! How did you train them to obey you like that?: You've got it backwards, boy. I didn't train them. THEY trained ME!The wolves seem to growl as they glare at Copycat.
: I'm not sure that they like me...: Oh, nonsense. They are well aware that we have just formed a wrestling faction. The 6 of us are like brothers now. You may pet them if you wish. Consider them your kin. : Really? Okay...Copycat reaches out his hand, and attempts to pet Thrasher, who growls at him and bares his teeth.
: Don't be afraid boy, just reach out and pet them if that's what you desire. They can smell your fear, so it's best to just act without thinking about the consequences. Copycat takes a deep breath and then pets Thrasher on the head. Immediately, Mosh, Thrasher, and Hillbilly Jim all leap forward and attack Copycat, knocking him to the ground. As they attack, Terry lets out a boisterous laugh.
: Ha ha ha! Lesson number one, boy! What have you learned?Copycat screams as the wolves continue to attack him, clawing and biting at him viciously.
: I... I don't know! Please, Mr. Bradshaw, stop them!: Stop them? What do I look like, a fascist? They have minds of their own, boy, and they do as they please! It's up to you to earn their respect!: Mosh! Thrasher! Hillbilly Jim! Knock it off!This only seems to anger the wolves as they continue to snap at Copycat.
: Do they look like slaves to you, boy? You can't just boss them around like that. Say the magic word!: ...PLEASE?!At this, Mosh, Thrasher, and Hillbilly Jim all stop biting at Copycat. They walk in a circle around Terry Bradshaw, and then lay down at his feet, content with their work. Terry laughs again!
: Look at the 6 of us! Happy as pigs in shit! Terry helps Copycat to his feet and puts his arm around him, and puts another arm around CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, who is still drinking.
: Bradshaw and the Gang! BANG! BANG! The wrestling world won't know what hit it, my friends! "The Phallic Fighter" doesn't stand a chance! And my opponent, Gold-Borg, why he's as good as defeated already! For we are B.A.N.G.! We've got each others backs! Together, nothing can stand in our way. Now come, my friends, for we have training to do! While we're at it, I do believe this calls for a celebration!Terry looks at CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, waiting for something.
CK "Rat Bastard" Owens: Huh? Oh, right.
From his vest, Owens pulls out three bottles of whiskey. He hands one to Terry and one to Copycat, and opens another one for himself... again. None for the wolves, because they don't drink. They're recovering alcoholics.
: Cheers, gentlemen! Here's to Bradshaw and the Gang! If anyone dares to cross us, we will B.A.N.G. their brains out! Gold-Borg and "The Phallic Fighter" are first on the list! The B.A.N.G. LIST! All three men clink their bottles together and begin to drink.
A deliriously happy Terry Bradshaw beams with pride and excitement, as he, Copycat, CK "Rat Bastard" Owens, and the 3 wolves, all walk off together, presumably to get drunk and then train for their matches at Showcase. On this note, our scene fades out to black.
