S.W.A.T

[fowler]

“I’ve got hostages. Give me what I want or every 30 minutes one dies, you hear me!”

A man dressed in black with a balaclava covering his head and face barks the demands down the phone. On the other end in a fancy police operation centre a team of people in suits look concerned. As they put down the call a woman turns to one of her colleagues.

“Deploy them. Now.”

The scene cuts to a black van racing across the city. It weaves in and out of traffic with a blue light flashing on its roof, no sirens though, they don’t want to spoil their arrival. In the back of the van sit three men in black tactical gear with ballistic glasses and face masks concealing their face.
A voice from the driver’s seat calls back to them.

“Two minutes to touch down boys.”
The three men nod to each other. It’s a very tense atmosphere, or at least it is until one of the men rips the mask and glasses from his face gasping for air. It becomes apparent the man is Billy Fowler. As he takes deep breaths the other men remove their facial gear to reveal themselves and Rob Riot and Frank Windsor.

Fowler: “I fucking hate face masks! Worst bit about that shitty excuse for a pandemic. These fucking things make it impossible to breath.”

Riot: “You’ve got to follow the Science Billy. Besides they aren’t that hard to breathe through.”

Windsor: “He has a point though. What sort of Pandemic doesn’t end with fucking zombies! I was waiting to get my Negan on and start skull cracking wankers.”

Fowler regains his breath and sits back on the bench running along the side of the van.

Fowler: “What the hell are we doing this for anyway?”

Riot: “Well back in the day parodies like this gained us a lot of fans. And Frank rightly pointed out that it was about time we put four certain letters to bed once and for all.”

Windsor: “That’s right Riot. I’m sick to fucking death of hearing about it.”

Fowler smirks at them as he suddenly realises what is going on.

Fowler: “Wait, we’re dressed like this in the back of a black police van going to take out some nut job hostage taker. Can I take a wild guess at what this show is going to be called?”

Riot: “Sure, but I suspect it will be about as wild as Frank’s pet hamster.”

Windsor: “You leave Peanut out of this. If you want an example of something really tame, try a Eddie Havok sex tape!”

Fowler and Riot shudder at the notion of such a thing.
Fowler: “I’m going on a limb and saying we are in a cop show drama about a SWAT team, mostly likely called… S.W.A.T?”

Riot: “Bingo! You got that quick.”

Fowler: “Jesus guys. I mean I get. All that Eddie D, or “I’ll suck a few dicks to be in the main event Eddie” as he asked me to call him ever talks about is fucking SWAT, but do really need to go this far?”

Riot: “I think so. Bear with me on this one, but ever since we came to Wrestle:UK all people keep talking about is SWAT. Now I know these individuals really loved the place, but let’s face it, SWAT was a parody of wrestling. What we are building in Wrestle:UK is the real deal.”

Windsor: “So what better way to finally kill off the memories of wrestling’s greatest parody than with a parody.”

Fowler: “Well shit, looks like you’ve got a point gentlemen. So who has this individual got held hostage exactly?”

Riot: “The IWC.”

Windsor: “That stands for the Internet Wrestling Community.”

Fowler: “I know that for fuck sake. Wait, we’re going to save the IWC from a hostage taker? Doesn’t that make SWAT the good guys?”

Riot: “Just wait.”

The van pulls up outside a warehouse building and the Bastards jump out of the back pointing semi-automatics towards the building.

Fowler: “Ok, we’ve got the building surrounded come out with your hands up!”

After a few seconds a sinister laugh is heard from behind a large steel roller shutter that starts to slowly rise. It begins to reveal a morbidly obese man dressed in black tactical gear. He has some very ropey fake tattoos drawn on his arms and his hair and beard shaped to look like Eddie D. On his chest is a tactical vest with SWAT written on it. Riot reacts in the campest, overacting style that he can.

Riot: “No! No! Not you Eddie! You were our leader; you were the chosen one!”

Fowler: “Fuck me… who wrote this shit.”

Windsor: “Well me of course.”

Fowler: “Says it all.”

The Eddie D knock off takes a step forward, snarling at the Bastards before opening his mouth.
“SWAT. SWAT SWAT. SWAT SWAT SWAT, SWAT SWAT.”

Riot: “Is that all that he can say?”

Fowler: “Looks like it.”

Fowler raises his gun towards the Eddie D knock off’s chest.

Fowler: “The game is over. Let the IWC go, and you can walk away from this. Don’t make us destroy you.”

Suddenly a group of people start to walk onto the set. They are dressed in loose fitting jeans and a variety of wrestling related t-shirts. They all carry voice recorders or microphones of some description.

Windsor: “Holy shit! It’s the Dirt Sheets! They’re going to start interviewing him!”

Riot: “Fuck! Billy we can’t let them interview him, he’ll start cutting a promo!”

Fowler looks back at Eddie who lets out one last “SWAT!” before Fowler raises his gun and pulls the trigger letting a burst of rounds rip through the SWAT logo on Eddie’s chest. Blood pours from his chest as the huge man falls flat on his back.

Fowler: “At last the IWC is safe.”

Riot “And we can destroy these.”

The three men take off their SWAT tactical vest and tear them up.