The Pyres/Record Scratc
Dec 4, 2016 14:53:43 GMT -6
Spencer Adams, Bonnie Blue, and 2 more like this
Post by Dion Necurat on Dec 4, 2016 14:53:43 GMT -6
((Note: Parts of this scene are done in first person, notated in italics.))
The scene opens inside of an arena. Three men stand to one side, each holding a different weapon; one was weilding a net and trident, another an axe, and the last a gladius. To the other side was a larger man, dressed in full gladiator armor, his red beard being the only way to identify him. He stood in a defensive stance, a massive shield leading his body, while he held a pilum in one hand and a gladius strapped to his hip. His head turned, facing each of his opponents. They were timid recruits, hesitant to strike out toward the larger man. The men looked to each other, and nodded, as if they understood without speaking. They took paces away from one another, and began closing the distance to the larger gladiator.
The larger man was having a hard time looking through his helmet. Keeping his shield up, he slid the pilum onto his back, and removed the helm. A flame of red hair burst forth, and a grizzled appearance shaped the man’s face. He kept a hand on his gladius, watching in focus as the three men lept toward him. The man drew his sword, and- the scene freezes.
*RECORD SCRATCH*
“Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation…”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene transitions to outside an office building, where a car pulls right up to the front door. The car door opens, and the camera pans up while a person climbs out of the car. Finally reaching the face, it is revealed to be the same man who was in the arena.
“My name is Dion Necurat, and I am a professional wrestler. I also run an organization called The Necurat Foundation. It started out as a way for me to combat homelessness, but now we’ve expanded into other charity opportunities. We’ve grown quite a bit in a short amount of time, and I’m proud of that.”
While Dion narrates, the camera pans around the three-story building, and includes a few shots inside, showing people either on the phone or working with the less fortunate. Dion walks into the office, and cuts to him entering into a large office, decorated to match his warrior style. There is an older african-american gentleman sitting in a chair facing the desk.
“Oh, and that guy? That is Benjamin Jones, jazz musician and co-founder of The Foundation. Ben also acts as my manager for my wrestling career. He’s been a long-time family friend, and is the closest to a father I’ve had in years. He never has a bad thing to say about anyone, which earned him the nickname of ‘Mr. Nice Guy.’ He sure has earned it here.”
Benjamin stands up to greet his friend. “Well you’re looking well-rested,” he said, extending his hand in greeting.
Dion took his hand, shook it, smirked, then pulled him in for a hug. “Come on Ben, you’ve been hugging me since I was six. Its not so different now, right?” he said, chucking.
Benjamin laughed as well, releasing Dion. “I guess you’re right. I’ve got some good news for you; its sitting in that folder on your desk.”
Dion walked around to the desk. “I take it our donations and contributions are still keeping us in the green?” he asked jokingly. He sat down, opening the folder. Inside were a few documents. Dion looked them over, realizing that one was a completed contract and job offer. “Ah, so all the paperwork went through!”
Benjamin smiled. “Damn right. Dion, you’re officially on the UCI Roster. Your first show is next Sunday, but they’ll want you to come in and film a segment before then.”
Dion looked over the offer again. “Well that sounds good. I’ll have to coordinate my obligations somewhat, but you can handle some of the charity functions while I’m away, right?” he asked.
“You know me,” Benjamin said. “So long as I don’t have a gig, I can be just about anywhere...but eventually, you’ll need to take a break. The foundation, WCF, now UCI? That’s a lot on your plate.”
Dion set down the paperwork, rubbing his eyes. He looked at Benjamin, standing up. “Yeah...you’re probably right,” he said, stretching. “But for now, I’ll do what I’m contracted to do...did you know they’re going to grant me a chariot for my entrances? I’ve been trying that for a while now!”
Benjamin laughed, enjoying listening to his partner’s youthful conversation. “Well, just make sure you’re around and in one piece when we start working heavily again around here. Take good care of yourself, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
Dion nodded, organizing the papers neatly in the file folder. He walked over to a filing cabinet, placing the file in one of the drawers. He then turned back to Benjamin, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you in a few days. Keep this place afloat while I’m gone, yeah? I’m heading home to pack my gear.” He turned to walk out the door, then turned back around, a look of realization on his face. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot; we have a meeting with Blue Cross Blue Shield this friday. Can you be there for the meeting, and I’ll call in?”
Benjamin saluted jokingly, saying, “You got it, boss. They’re a nice crowd, Blue Cross Blue Shield…”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene cuts back to Dion’s face as the three other men, still in the scene freeze, leap toward him.
“So that’s the short version of how I joined UCI. As for this? Ah, don’t worry about it, its just a promo scene. I’ll be fine, though these guys-Oh wait, this is my favorite part.”
The scene unfreezes, as the three men bare down on Dion. Thinking quickly, Dion flashes his shield out in an arc, striking each man and knocking them back as they came closer. They fell to the floor in a heap, weapons off in the distance. “No no no,” Dion said, looking annoyed. “When you have an opponent surrounded, you don’t open yourselves up to a retaliation, especially when they have a shield and you don’t. A shield gives a soldier an advantage. Play it safe, wait for an opening, then strike. With three of you, you should be able to rotate around and tire them out before any of you are exhausted.” Dion looked at the men, then smiled. “You did good otherwise. You’ve earned a break. We’ll drill again tomorrow. DISMISSED!”
The trainees scrambled to their feet, gathering their weapons, and departing. Another man came in, looking more like a soldier than a recruit, spying Dion taking a whetstone to his gladius. “Sir, we retrieved the objective and brought them here.”
Dion looked up at him, casting the sword aside. “Show me,” he said. Dion was then led by the soldier out of the building. The field where this building resides were surrounded by men, all training, running drills, or out on patrol. A group was gathered around an unlit pyre, a man, looking frail, lying on the ground next to it. Dion lifted the man up, standing him on his feet. “What can you tell me about the man known as Jamo?”
The smaller man, frail and timid, stammered out his answer as best he could. “He’s...he’s called himself a hardcore l-l-l-legend, and he-he-he-”
Dion put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax,” Dion said. “No harm will come to you. Just tell me what you know.”
The frail man swallowed hard, and started again. “Jamo is a hardcore legend, or at least that’s what he says. He’s won numerous titles, but hasn’t found his stride on this field of battle. He’s also certifiably insane, and is managed by his therapist, a man simply known as Dr. Jones. I’d be really careful if I were you.”
Dion nodded. “What is your name?”
“My name?” the smaller man asked. Then he quickly answered, “Alec. Its Alec.”
“Well Alec,” Dion replied, “let me tell you what I think of Jamo.” He turned Alec around so both men were facing the pyre. “Do you see what is tied to that pyre?”
“...It looks like...a training dummy?”
“That’s right. Stuffed to the brim, but easy to manipulate and filled with zero substance. Tell me, what do you see on its chest?”
Alec looked closer. “I see...a name...Jamo…”
Dion clapped the smaller man on the shoulder. “You’re right,” he said. “This is Jamo’s pyre. Symbolic, really. You see, Jamo calls himself a hardcore legend, but that is a title I have heard numerous times, enough where that loses its meaning. Jamo is certifiably insane, making his mannerisms difficult to track. However, this also makes him very predictable. His unconventional style means he cannot trust any avenue of attack, meaning he’ll leave himself open to my assault. In brief, he is the perfect match for me; a training dummy that will showcase what I, The Crimson Gladiator, can do on this field of battle. It tells me that UCI is ripe for the picking, Alec. And I am ready to begin my siege.”
He waves a hand, and a guard appears next to him, holding a torch. Dion takes the torch from the soldier, turning back toward the pyre. “And it begins...with the decimation of Jamo…” he said coldly, tossing the torch onto the tinders. The twigs and brambles lit aflame, and quickly set the pyre ablaze. The training dummy labeled Jamo also caught fire, the straw quickly being engulfed by the fire. Dion turned back toward the soldiers. “THIS,” he shouted, “is the first of many pyres that will be lit. These flames will signify my victories in UCI. I am making a bold claim now; I will defeat Jamo, and cement myself firmly on this field as a force to be reckoned with. To me, my Legion. We march onto UCI...and we will leave none in our path!”
Dion raised his fist in the air, his soldiers cheering loudly toward him. The soldiers gathered together, and with Dion at the head, led them off the site, the sounds of war drums signaling the arrival of The Crimson Gladiator.
