|
|
Post by The Immortal Arkken on Apr 17, 2011 16:19:36 GMT -4
Monica enters the Rose Thorns' dressing room to find both members watching a tape of a tag team tables match from a period when tag team had a semblance of relevance in a particular federation.
Monica: Is this a bad time?
The Regal One turns towards her and smiles.
Arkken: Ah! Monica. Not at all; come in.
His daughter, however, does not turn to look at her.
Immacolata: He is making me watch this.
Her tone is one of boredom and annoyance.
Monica: Then, my first question would be, do you feel confident in your ability to win a tables match against Bringing Paranoia later tonight?
Immacolata: Tell me she is kidding, Arkken.
Arkken: I cannot, for she is not.
Immacolata: I must be suffering from brain damage, then.
Monica: What does...
Arkken: She means yes, dear Monica. We are fully confident, as we have always been. We won our match last week, after all, and while some might say it was won on a technicality, I would like to remind them that tables are a technicality.
Immacolata: One that we will break with their spines.
She seems positively excited at the prospect.
Monica: If you do not win tonight, what are your plans for the future?
The woman in the red leather suit kicks the small television off of its chair and it shuts down as it hits the ground. She gets up and walks over to Monica, standing uncomfortably close to her.
Immacolata: If we do not win, I will hunt (or did she say haunt?) them individually and take them both down.
She raises her hand and closes it halfway so that it looks like a claw.
Immacolata: I will grab their face and slam the back of their skull into the mat... or the concrete floor, if they will not face me in the ring.
She leaves the room.
Arkken: And she is done. A shame; I rather liked this little TV.
He shrugs and stands up.
Arkken: I did not even drop her on her head when she was a baby.
Monica: Was her mother...
The wrestler puts his hand on the microphone to cut her off and then removes it.
Arkken: We will win tonight because Igraine's Chosen is meant for great things indeed, and they have only just started. Their time is past, while mine is here. Watch me rise, Monica. Watch me rise.
He exits the room, leaving the interviewer alone with the broken television.
|
|
