Roleplay period starts on Wednesday, April 25 and ends Tuesday, May 1. 2 roleplay max in this round.
Round 1: Jeffrey Roberts vs. Demon
- Thread starter Chad
- Start date
Jeff-rey
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- Jun 29, 2007
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Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade. IN.
A very large printout of the ULTRATITLE bracket is splayed out over a large table. Various names are sloppily scratched out in a reddish color with a notable exception.
Around the name of Joe the Plumber is simply a circle in the same reddish hue, with the letters in his name traced over and giving depth to the letters, artistically smudged around the edges.
Backed up just enough in view of the camera we see a man, Jeffrey Roberts, half looking down, his head cocked to one side, his hair hanging down over that side of his face. Roberts is picking at something in front of him, but we can’t really see what it is. He reaches out again, tilts the camera up a bit and then, a few seconds later, tilts it back down. There’s a new red smudge on the paper, a rough letter X through the name “Demon.”
Roberts tilts his head the other direction and pushes his hair over, though it still hangs down over most of his face.
ROBERTS: “Plumbers plumbing, plumbers plumbing…….. “
“Someone sent this to me, this, ULTRATITLE invitation. Something tells me it was an oversight, or maybe they just don’t remember. This is a function of that Greensboro company, isn’t it? Or a descendant of such? Ahh, rhetorical questions….”
Roberts smirks…
“Tradition, how I love… TRADITION.”
“You know what’s even more traditional about tournaments like this? Underdogs like me. I don’t even think most of you know who I am, do you? I think that’s good. I think it’s good that you people are less informed about me than you should be. I think it’s good because perhaps with your ignorance comes a sense of peace about finding me opposite you in the ring, since you don’t know what to expect. Perhaps if you did know more about me, you’d feel a little more uneasy right now….”
“Perhaps…”
“Tradition also says that I can sit here with a hearty meal and a tasty beverage, such a mundane ordinary part of my day, and yet offer you a treatise on who I am, what this means to me and why I will be the one who ends the streak of Joe the Plumber in round three.”
“Yes, I am that bold.”
“But what of Demon, you ask?”
“Ohhhh, good question, and not of the rhetorical kind, either…. touche’….”
“Demon is a complicated fellow, a man not likely to take a wife, and I look at him with compassion, great admiration and an urge almost impossible to resist to cut open his veins and let his blood pour into a large ceramic bowl decorated with lilies.”
“I need the lilies you see, because great beauty is my center. I’m supposed to balance great horror with beauty or else I descend into deeper madness than I can pull myself out of. Where there is violence, there must be peace, where there are dangling participles, there must be a perfectly diagrammed sentence. It’s all very zen.”
“Ten times I’ve signed a contract to be a professional wrestler. Ten times they’ve said I had unlimited potential to be one of the greatest of all time, if only I could be reined in. Problem is, how do you rein in a diagnosed sociopath with psychopathic tendencies? How do you keep someone whose ability to function in society is kept in check by the thinnest veil of pharmaceuticals? How do you deal with someone whose only differing characteristic from Joe the Plumber is that his drugs come with a prescription? Two times I was able to become a World Champion, and although one of those times evolved into my leading a gang of the mentally ill to taking over the company and ultimately, my being taken away in a straight jacket, I consider it a success.”
“Right now, there are many directions I can go with all of this, and many goals I could set. My neverending fascination with methods of causing pain is the underlying cause of all of this, sure, but there are obstacles to face here that I can’t find anywhere else. I’ve begun to develop some obsessions the last few days…..”
Roberts tilts the camera again and this time we can see the bracket in full view as Roberts uses the tip of his finger and dabs it into an open wound on his left arm, then uses the blood to draw little hearts around Joe the Plumber’s name…
“Sometimes in this world you come in contact with expectations so thick you could choke a horse with them, and occasionally there are people who find these expectations nothing more than a challenge that can’t be ignored -- and when they become so captivated by it that they can’t breathe, can’t think of anything else, you create something more….”
“Ohhh, but then, I was created a long time ago, right? Not by poor parenting or questionable upbringing. No, no, my childhood was very nice, full of trips to the park, baseball games and puppies…. No, I was created before birth, a grouping of neurons and tissue that became a man who desires pain so that he can understand it, because in feeling it he finds no torture, no pleasure, he finds nothing, and needs to know it’s power. I look at you, Demon, and I need you to know that yes, you can hurt me, but you will never find me wincing in pain, never see me recoiling from a death blow, because I lack the ability to learn from my pain, and so it finds me willing to treat myself as invincible, when you will not. I will feel the pain and cherish it, nurture it, because it is, in the end, all that matters. Hit me with whatever you must, Demon, because I will do the same. Don’t give me an opening. I will break your arm if I need to, or maybe, something more satisfying if I merely WANT to…”
“You never know about these things… these rhetorical questions hanging in the air, and you don’t know what to expect because I am me, and you don’t know me, and you don’t care.”
“Besides, maybe I’m full of sh!t, and you’ll pin me in a five second laugher….”
Roberts gives a wide wide grin and lets his tongue hang slightly before pulling it back in, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes…shaking silently….
“But I don’t think so.”
“For now….”
Roberts goes completely calm, centers his face in the camera shot and opens his eyes, smiling warmly…
“I’ll be finishing my dinner.”
The shot pulls back and Roberts continues his dinner, a chicken breast with baby potatoes and corn. He takes a folded linen napkin and tucks it into his shirt, wiping the excess blood from the wound on his arm across it, and the blood on his hand across his own forehead….. and eats.
Fade Out.
A very large printout of the ULTRATITLE bracket is splayed out over a large table. Various names are sloppily scratched out in a reddish color with a notable exception.
Around the name of Joe the Plumber is simply a circle in the same reddish hue, with the letters in his name traced over and giving depth to the letters, artistically smudged around the edges.
Backed up just enough in view of the camera we see a man, Jeffrey Roberts, half looking down, his head cocked to one side, his hair hanging down over that side of his face. Roberts is picking at something in front of him, but we can’t really see what it is. He reaches out again, tilts the camera up a bit and then, a few seconds later, tilts it back down. There’s a new red smudge on the paper, a rough letter X through the name “Demon.”
Roberts tilts his head the other direction and pushes his hair over, though it still hangs down over most of his face.
ROBERTS: “Plumbers plumbing, plumbers plumbing…….. “
“Someone sent this to me, this, ULTRATITLE invitation. Something tells me it was an oversight, or maybe they just don’t remember. This is a function of that Greensboro company, isn’t it? Or a descendant of such? Ahh, rhetorical questions….”
Roberts smirks…
“Tradition, how I love… TRADITION.”
“You know what’s even more traditional about tournaments like this? Underdogs like me. I don’t even think most of you know who I am, do you? I think that’s good. I think it’s good that you people are less informed about me than you should be. I think it’s good because perhaps with your ignorance comes a sense of peace about finding me opposite you in the ring, since you don’t know what to expect. Perhaps if you did know more about me, you’d feel a little more uneasy right now….”
“Perhaps…”
“Tradition also says that I can sit here with a hearty meal and a tasty beverage, such a mundane ordinary part of my day, and yet offer you a treatise on who I am, what this means to me and why I will be the one who ends the streak of Joe the Plumber in round three.”
“Yes, I am that bold.”
“But what of Demon, you ask?”
“Ohhhh, good question, and not of the rhetorical kind, either…. touche’….”
“Demon is a complicated fellow, a man not likely to take a wife, and I look at him with compassion, great admiration and an urge almost impossible to resist to cut open his veins and let his blood pour into a large ceramic bowl decorated with lilies.”
“I need the lilies you see, because great beauty is my center. I’m supposed to balance great horror with beauty or else I descend into deeper madness than I can pull myself out of. Where there is violence, there must be peace, where there are dangling participles, there must be a perfectly diagrammed sentence. It’s all very zen.”
“Ten times I’ve signed a contract to be a professional wrestler. Ten times they’ve said I had unlimited potential to be one of the greatest of all time, if only I could be reined in. Problem is, how do you rein in a diagnosed sociopath with psychopathic tendencies? How do you keep someone whose ability to function in society is kept in check by the thinnest veil of pharmaceuticals? How do you deal with someone whose only differing characteristic from Joe the Plumber is that his drugs come with a prescription? Two times I was able to become a World Champion, and although one of those times evolved into my leading a gang of the mentally ill to taking over the company and ultimately, my being taken away in a straight jacket, I consider it a success.”
“Right now, there are many directions I can go with all of this, and many goals I could set. My neverending fascination with methods of causing pain is the underlying cause of all of this, sure, but there are obstacles to face here that I can’t find anywhere else. I’ve begun to develop some obsessions the last few days…..”
Roberts tilts the camera again and this time we can see the bracket in full view as Roberts uses the tip of his finger and dabs it into an open wound on his left arm, then uses the blood to draw little hearts around Joe the Plumber’s name…
“Sometimes in this world you come in contact with expectations so thick you could choke a horse with them, and occasionally there are people who find these expectations nothing more than a challenge that can’t be ignored -- and when they become so captivated by it that they can’t breathe, can’t think of anything else, you create something more….”
“Ohhh, but then, I was created a long time ago, right? Not by poor parenting or questionable upbringing. No, no, my childhood was very nice, full of trips to the park, baseball games and puppies…. No, I was created before birth, a grouping of neurons and tissue that became a man who desires pain so that he can understand it, because in feeling it he finds no torture, no pleasure, he finds nothing, and needs to know it’s power. I look at you, Demon, and I need you to know that yes, you can hurt me, but you will never find me wincing in pain, never see me recoiling from a death blow, because I lack the ability to learn from my pain, and so it finds me willing to treat myself as invincible, when you will not. I will feel the pain and cherish it, nurture it, because it is, in the end, all that matters. Hit me with whatever you must, Demon, because I will do the same. Don’t give me an opening. I will break your arm if I need to, or maybe, something more satisfying if I merely WANT to…”
“You never know about these things… these rhetorical questions hanging in the air, and you don’t know what to expect because I am me, and you don’t know me, and you don’t care.”
“Besides, maybe I’m full of sh!t, and you’ll pin me in a five second laugher….”
Roberts gives a wide wide grin and lets his tongue hang slightly before pulling it back in, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes…shaking silently….
“But I don’t think so.”
“For now….”
Roberts goes completely calm, centers his face in the camera shot and opens his eyes, smiling warmly…
“I’ll be finishing my dinner.”
The shot pulls back and Roberts continues his dinner, a chicken breast with baby potatoes and corn. He takes a folded linen napkin and tucks it into his shirt, wiping the excess blood from the wound on his arm across it, and the blood on his hand across his own forehead….. and eats.
Fade Out.
Jeff-rey
Administrator
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Fade in.
As soon as the shot kicks in, we get a pretty good idea of what we're in for.
Standing in the middle of a rocky terrain, wearing a lightly tan tunic with a burgundy vest is Jeffrey Roberts. He has his hair in a slightly curled, mussed up style and a thin moustache, with a scar, obviously fake, on each cheek. He slightly raises a sword and ends up looking something like this:
When he speaks, he has a slight Spanish accent, for unknown reasons.
ROBERTS: "Hello."
There's no one else here. The wind blows lightly. Roberts' eyes dart slightly, realizing again that he came up here alone and he re-steels himself.
ROBERTS: "My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya - you keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die."
Once again, there's no one HERE, JEFF.
"Oh", he realizes.
Roberts lowers the sword.
ROBERTS: "Mee-ster Dee-mon, I am here because I fully expect your attack. We are-a not-a so diff-rent, you and I. You see...."
Roberts sits on a nearby rock.
ROBERTS: "When I was-a very small boy, my family come to Amer-ee-ca. The land of oppor-tunity they say. Very very poor man, my fah-ser. But ver-a proud. He was a brilliant sword maker. One day, a very tall American come in. He say he want a sword made for a ceremony in depths of hell. He have a young boy with him. Always a-strike me as strange that boy. He dress in all red, weeth little pointy peech-fork. I always think that-a bit odd for a boy my age. He probably get picked on, I think."
"Either way, my father, he agree."
"One day, the tall Amer-ee-can return. He want-a the sword, but at one-tenth the promised price. My father, he is a proud man. Obviously, he refuse. The tall American stab him through the heart."
Roberts gets slightly emotional, a tear forming in his eye as he looks wistfully into the distance. A whippoorwill calls in the distance.
"Now... I love my fah-ser. So, naturally I challenge hees keeler to a duel. I fail. The tall uniformed Amer-ee-can spare my life. But he leave me thees.... (Roberts gestures to his left cheek 'scar') ...and thees.. (Roberts gestures to the right one). The small boy, the one wearing all red with thee peech-fork... with the small peee-nis, he laugh at me. I always remember thees. I swear revenge."
"The tall Amer-ee-can die before I can have my vengeance, so I turn my attention to his son, the smirking young patriot in the coh-lors of your country. How surprise am I to see that you Dee-mon... are that very boy."
"I have wait for dees day for many years and now, in the first round of ULTRA-TITLE, I shall face you. I shall NOT fail. I shall stand face to face with the son of my fah-ser's keeeler, and I will say.... 'Ello. My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya. You keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die."
Roberts looks intensely into the camera.
A moment passes and Roberts' eyes glance off screen, then back. He mumbles the word "now". With nothing happening, he says again, this time louder, the word "NOW".
At this, another man "leaps" on-screen. It's Mojo Massey, EPW interviewer a-go-go, dressed like this:
MASSEY: "Do I really have to do this?? I mean, this is ridiculous."
Roberts drops all pretense for a moment.
ROBERTS: "Do you want me to throw you off of that god damned cliff, Massey?"
MASSEY: (stammering) "I really wish you wouldn't."
ROBERTS: "Then just do what you're told and say the lines."
MASSEY: (clearing his throat) "So um... you've done nothing since then but study swordplay?"
ROBERTS: (back in character) "More pursue than a-study really. I work for Fezzini to pay the bills. There is not a lot of money in the revenge bus-a-ness."
MASSEY: "Who?"
ROBERTS: "Nevermind. EN GARDE!!"
Roberts leaps into an attacking stance and a terrified Mojo Massey backs away.
MASSEY: "Roberts, what are you doing...."
ROBERTS: " 'Ello. My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya. You keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die."
MASSEY: "Wait, I thought you were s'posed to say that to Demon!!"
ROBERTS: (making two quick swipes in the air near Massey's face) " 'Ello. My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya. You keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die!!"
MASSEY: "But I don't even have my own sword!!!"
ROBERTS: (swiping two times more and thrusting at Massey's midsection, but missing) " 'ELLO!! MY NAME IS JEFFRIGO ROBTOYA!! YOU KEEL MY FAH-SER!! PREPARE...TO DIIIIIEEEEE!!"
MASSEY: "What are you doing?!?! I didn't agree to this!!"
ROBERTS: (smiling an empty, but almost giddy smile) "PRACTICE!!"
MASSEY: (running for his life) "GAHHHH!!!!"
Massey runs, ducking around behind rock formations, jumping up and over small boulders, all the while barely avoiding Roberts' sword. Roberts gives chase before finally cornering Massey against a rock embankment.
MASSEY: "NO!!!"
ROBERTS: "Offer me money!"
MASSEY: "WHAT?!"
ROBERTS: "Offer me riches!!"
MASSEY: "What the hell are you talking about?!"
ROBERTS: "Offer me everything I could ever ask for and more!!"
MASSEY: (about to piss himself) "I don't even know what's going on here!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"
ROBERTS: (leaning in, intensely) "I want my fah-ser back, you son of a b!tch."
Roberts thrusts the sword at Massey's chest as he screams in terror...
...
...
...
..only to find that this whole time the sword was a rubber prop, which, while mostly harmless, just caused a hell of a bruise on Massey's chest.
MASSEY: "AHHH!! DAMNIT THAT HURT!!"
Roberts steps back, nodding his head satisfied.
ROBERTS: "Yes, yes that'll do quite nicely."
MASSEY: "What was this... training for you???"
ROBERTS: (his sword pointed down in the ground, leaning on the hilt happily) "Something like that."
MASSEY: "So your plan is to stab Demon with a sword?"
ROBERTS: "My father must be avenged."
Despite this statement, Roberts is now speaking in his own voice, making it all the more odd.
MASSEY: "I thought that was just part of the production... with the accent and everything..."
ROBERTS: "Mojo, what on Earth are you talking about?"
MASSEY: "Demon's father did not kill your father."
ROBERTS: (leaning in and pointing his sword back at Mojo) "Are you calling me a liar???"
MASSEY: "Uhhhh.... No?"
ROBERTS: "Good. Dee-mon may think that staying quiet will cause me to go easy on him, but nothing soothes the deep fire of revenge. Nothing can lessen it's intense glow. I need only the harsh lessons of my childhood to provide for me the kindling to erupt that flame into a consuming, living force that will destroy him and propel me forward into the finals of the ULTRATITLE."
Roberts looks wistfully off into the distance. He waits, as if expecting something, then frowns.
A whippoorwill calls. Roberts gets wistful again.
ROBERTS: "Here Demon loses. I shall meet my destiny.Then it will be done."
MASSEY: "Was that a haiku?"
ROBERTS: "Do you think this is a big joke, Mojo Massey? Do you think I've gone to all this trouble just to amuse you?"
MASSEY: "Well... what have you gone to all this trouble for? I mean, you've only been talking about Demon, but what of the next few rounds? What if you have to face Ken Cloverleaf? Joe the Plumber?
ROBERTS: (shoulders slump, as if considering something new) "Joe the Plumber is an interesting case study. He has the pedigree, the attitude, the ability. He's a former World Champion and those titles do not come easy. It would be an honor to dissect a man such as that and see what makes him tick."
MASSEY: "I hope you mean that figuratively."
Roberts simply stares at Massey for a few moment, then smiles.
ROBERTS: "Of course."
MASSEY: "And Cloverleaf?"
ROBERTS: "I've heard people who have cast aspersions on the character of Ken Cloverleaf and I think that's a crime, an out and out crime. Ken Cloverleaf, although appearing to be a man such as you might find sweeping up leaves outside a garage, is a virile, physical, skilled fighting machine. If he should surpass his first round opponent, I have absolutely no doubt that he will give me the fight of my life."
MASSEY: "But have you prepared for them? I mean, as far as I can tell you've done all of this with me to get ready for Demon..."
Something clicks in Roberts' expression, and he suddenly raises his sword and seems a little more menacing. Mojo Massey catches on to this and stiffens up, starting to slide sideways on the rock face to find an escape.
MASSEY: "Hold on a second... I didn't mean now!"
ROBERTS: (stalking Massey) "But you're absolutely right, Mojo Massey. I must prepare for every eventuality..."
MASSEY: "But I'm not Joe the Plumber OR Ken Cloverleaf!!!"
ROBERTS: (ignoring Massey) "Plus... there's something you should know!!"
MASSEY: "What?!?!"
ROBERTS: (pausing a tossing the sword from his left to his right hand) "I am not left handed!!!"
MASSEY: (Roberts continues his approach and Massey hurriedly moves past) "AHHH!!"
With that, Mojo bursts into a full sprint.
ROBERTS: (giving chase and back in his Spanish accent) "You cannot escape-a me!! I will have-a my REVENGE!!!"
Roberts chases Massey off screen as we...
Fade out.
As soon as the shot kicks in, we get a pretty good idea of what we're in for.
Standing in the middle of a rocky terrain, wearing a lightly tan tunic with a burgundy vest is Jeffrey Roberts. He has his hair in a slightly curled, mussed up style and a thin moustache, with a scar, obviously fake, on each cheek. He slightly raises a sword and ends up looking something like this:
When he speaks, he has a slight Spanish accent, for unknown reasons.
ROBERTS: "Hello."
There's no one else here. The wind blows lightly. Roberts' eyes dart slightly, realizing again that he came up here alone and he re-steels himself.
ROBERTS: "My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya - you keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die."
Once again, there's no one HERE, JEFF.
"Oh", he realizes.
Roberts lowers the sword.
ROBERTS: "Mee-ster Dee-mon, I am here because I fully expect your attack. We are-a not-a so diff-rent, you and I. You see...."
Roberts sits on a nearby rock.
ROBERTS: "When I was-a very small boy, my family come to Amer-ee-ca. The land of oppor-tunity they say. Very very poor man, my fah-ser. But ver-a proud. He was a brilliant sword maker. One day, a very tall American come in. He say he want a sword made for a ceremony in depths of hell. He have a young boy with him. Always a-strike me as strange that boy. He dress in all red, weeth little pointy peech-fork. I always think that-a bit odd for a boy my age. He probably get picked on, I think."
"Either way, my father, he agree."
"One day, the tall Amer-ee-can return. He want-a the sword, but at one-tenth the promised price. My father, he is a proud man. Obviously, he refuse. The tall American stab him through the heart."
Roberts gets slightly emotional, a tear forming in his eye as he looks wistfully into the distance. A whippoorwill calls in the distance.
"Now... I love my fah-ser. So, naturally I challenge hees keeler to a duel. I fail. The tall uniformed Amer-ee-can spare my life. But he leave me thees.... (Roberts gestures to his left cheek 'scar') ...and thees.. (Roberts gestures to the right one). The small boy, the one wearing all red with thee peech-fork... with the small peee-nis, he laugh at me. I always remember thees. I swear revenge."
"The tall Amer-ee-can die before I can have my vengeance, so I turn my attention to his son, the smirking young patriot in the coh-lors of your country. How surprise am I to see that you Dee-mon... are that very boy."
"I have wait for dees day for many years and now, in the first round of ULTRA-TITLE, I shall face you. I shall NOT fail. I shall stand face to face with the son of my fah-ser's keeeler, and I will say.... 'Ello. My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya. You keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die."
Roberts looks intensely into the camera.
A moment passes and Roberts' eyes glance off screen, then back. He mumbles the word "now". With nothing happening, he says again, this time louder, the word "NOW".
At this, another man "leaps" on-screen. It's Mojo Massey, EPW interviewer a-go-go, dressed like this:
MASSEY: "Do I really have to do this?? I mean, this is ridiculous."
Roberts drops all pretense for a moment.
ROBERTS: "Do you want me to throw you off of that god damned cliff, Massey?"
MASSEY: (stammering) "I really wish you wouldn't."
ROBERTS: "Then just do what you're told and say the lines."
MASSEY: (clearing his throat) "So um... you've done nothing since then but study swordplay?"
ROBERTS: (back in character) "More pursue than a-study really. I work for Fezzini to pay the bills. There is not a lot of money in the revenge bus-a-ness."
MASSEY: "Who?"
ROBERTS: "Nevermind. EN GARDE!!"
Roberts leaps into an attacking stance and a terrified Mojo Massey backs away.
MASSEY: "Roberts, what are you doing...."
ROBERTS: " 'Ello. My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya. You keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die."
MASSEY: "Wait, I thought you were s'posed to say that to Demon!!"
ROBERTS: (making two quick swipes in the air near Massey's face) " 'Ello. My name is Jeffrigo Robtoya. You keel my fah-ser. Prepare to die!!"
MASSEY: "But I don't even have my own sword!!!"
ROBERTS: (swiping two times more and thrusting at Massey's midsection, but missing) " 'ELLO!! MY NAME IS JEFFRIGO ROBTOYA!! YOU KEEL MY FAH-SER!! PREPARE...TO DIIIIIEEEEE!!"
MASSEY: "What are you doing?!?! I didn't agree to this!!"
ROBERTS: (smiling an empty, but almost giddy smile) "PRACTICE!!"
MASSEY: (running for his life) "GAHHHH!!!!"
Massey runs, ducking around behind rock formations, jumping up and over small boulders, all the while barely avoiding Roberts' sword. Roberts gives chase before finally cornering Massey against a rock embankment.
MASSEY: "NO!!!"
ROBERTS: "Offer me money!"
MASSEY: "WHAT?!"
ROBERTS: "Offer me riches!!"
MASSEY: "What the hell are you talking about?!"
ROBERTS: "Offer me everything I could ever ask for and more!!"
MASSEY: (about to piss himself) "I don't even know what's going on here!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"
ROBERTS: (leaning in, intensely) "I want my fah-ser back, you son of a b!tch."
Roberts thrusts the sword at Massey's chest as he screams in terror...
...
...
...
..only to find that this whole time the sword was a rubber prop, which, while mostly harmless, just caused a hell of a bruise on Massey's chest.
MASSEY: "AHHH!! DAMNIT THAT HURT!!"
Roberts steps back, nodding his head satisfied.
ROBERTS: "Yes, yes that'll do quite nicely."
MASSEY: "What was this... training for you???"
ROBERTS: (his sword pointed down in the ground, leaning on the hilt happily) "Something like that."
MASSEY: "So your plan is to stab Demon with a sword?"
ROBERTS: "My father must be avenged."
Despite this statement, Roberts is now speaking in his own voice, making it all the more odd.
MASSEY: "I thought that was just part of the production... with the accent and everything..."
ROBERTS: "Mojo, what on Earth are you talking about?"
MASSEY: "Demon's father did not kill your father."
ROBERTS: (leaning in and pointing his sword back at Mojo) "Are you calling me a liar???"
MASSEY: "Uhhhh.... No?"
ROBERTS: "Good. Dee-mon may think that staying quiet will cause me to go easy on him, but nothing soothes the deep fire of revenge. Nothing can lessen it's intense glow. I need only the harsh lessons of my childhood to provide for me the kindling to erupt that flame into a consuming, living force that will destroy him and propel me forward into the finals of the ULTRATITLE."
Roberts looks wistfully off into the distance. He waits, as if expecting something, then frowns.
A whippoorwill calls. Roberts gets wistful again.
ROBERTS: "Here Demon loses. I shall meet my destiny.Then it will be done."
MASSEY: "Was that a haiku?"
ROBERTS: "Do you think this is a big joke, Mojo Massey? Do you think I've gone to all this trouble just to amuse you?"
MASSEY: "Well... what have you gone to all this trouble for? I mean, you've only been talking about Demon, but what of the next few rounds? What if you have to face Ken Cloverleaf? Joe the Plumber?
ROBERTS: (shoulders slump, as if considering something new) "Joe the Plumber is an interesting case study. He has the pedigree, the attitude, the ability. He's a former World Champion and those titles do not come easy. It would be an honor to dissect a man such as that and see what makes him tick."
MASSEY: "I hope you mean that figuratively."
Roberts simply stares at Massey for a few moment, then smiles.
ROBERTS: "Of course."
MASSEY: "And Cloverleaf?"
ROBERTS: "I've heard people who have cast aspersions on the character of Ken Cloverleaf and I think that's a crime, an out and out crime. Ken Cloverleaf, although appearing to be a man such as you might find sweeping up leaves outside a garage, is a virile, physical, skilled fighting machine. If he should surpass his first round opponent, I have absolutely no doubt that he will give me the fight of my life."
MASSEY: "But have you prepared for them? I mean, as far as I can tell you've done all of this with me to get ready for Demon..."
Something clicks in Roberts' expression, and he suddenly raises his sword and seems a little more menacing. Mojo Massey catches on to this and stiffens up, starting to slide sideways on the rock face to find an escape.
MASSEY: "Hold on a second... I didn't mean now!"
ROBERTS: (stalking Massey) "But you're absolutely right, Mojo Massey. I must prepare for every eventuality..."
MASSEY: "But I'm not Joe the Plumber OR Ken Cloverleaf!!!"
ROBERTS: (ignoring Massey) "Plus... there's something you should know!!"
MASSEY: "What?!?!"
ROBERTS: (pausing a tossing the sword from his left to his right hand) "I am not left handed!!!"
MASSEY: (Roberts continues his approach and Massey hurriedly moves past) "AHHH!!"
With that, Mojo bursts into a full sprint.
ROBERTS: (giving chase and back in his Spanish accent) "You cannot escape-a me!! I will have-a my REVENGE!!!"
Roberts chases Massey off screen as we...
Fade out.