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Flight to Vegas; rp 1
Topic Started: Jul 1 2008, 11:24 PM (104 Views)
Reaper3142
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The scene opens in the crowded Canadian airport of Toronto. We see children running back and forth frustrated parents wanting to beat their adhd little asses but deciding against it but only because big brother was watching as always. There is a figure off in the corner and we can see his head slightly shaking. Well not necessarily his head, as much as the top of a hat. The rest of the being was covered by a newspaper that the figure seemed to be drifting through reading. We are given the view of over his shoulder at the paper it appears to be turned to the sports section. In the distance we can hear the faint sound of crying and the sound is growing louder and louder. The sound grows and grows until it is almost painstakingly close to us. Suddenly the newspaper slams down as we see a woman who looks like she's still a child herself holding a small infant. We hear a gruff yet at the same time smooth voice sort of like slick sandpaper. Wither and frayed with time and damage but at the same time the hint of the smooth calm voice that it was in younger days. The voice speaks unto the woman.

Voice: Ma'am, if I may suggest, it might be in the best interest of yourself and the child if you just fed the poor thing. He's screaming like he just heard Santa clause aint real.

The woman looks back at the man. Her face is full of frustration and worry the child in her arms kicking and screaming. It's cries forcing its entire face to grow red and purple.

Woman: I just fed him a few minutes ago, he doesn't need changing, I've burped him, I just cant figure out what’s wrong with him.

The figure's hands are seen reaching out towards the woman, we can see they are callused and look as if they've known work their entire life. The knuckles are scraped and battered. The woman looks curiously towards the hands. The one hand makes the motion as if to hand the child to him.

Voice: Ma'am, just hand the poor youngin over. Give a man with a bit of experience a try.

The woman hands the baby to the man. The figures hands grips the child by under the arms and holds it high in the air we can see the childs bright blue eyes. The camera pans around and we see a man with brownish black hair with a slight tint of red to it in the light. He's got a goatee that matches his hair, not very long but very full. He wears upon his head a black cowboy hat with a skull stitched into the front of it. The thing that stands out the most about the man though is a large scar that goes over his left eye and the black patch that covers where the eye should be. The man holds the baby high in the air and lowers him down and picks him back into the air.

Man: Now what is all this fuss about little man? Huh? Why so fussy? You're tired aren’t you? Yea, I would be tired too, just had a good meal, just need to take a little nap is all.

The man lowers the child who's started to stop screaming onto his shoulder as if to burp the child but just softly rubs its back and slightly rocking. The child calms down and before is out like a light. The mother is looking in disbelief.

Mother: How did you do that?

Man: You just have to understand what you're facing. You'll get use to it with practice. I'm Hamish, and yourself?

Woman: I'm Krissy.

Hamish: Nice to meet you Krissy.

Hamish gently hands the child back to its mother. Krissy gently puts the baby in its carrier and hopes he will stay asleep. She turns to Hamish and smiles. Hamish simply nods tipping his hat and flipping up his newspaper again. Hamish isn't reading the news though no his mind is remember back. Back to years past, back to the only woman he ever loved and ever would. Alisha. his precious Ali, the source of all his happiness and all of his darkness that would follow. The inspiration of love poems and songs as well as addictions and death. Hamish sets his newspaper down clearing his throat as he stands up and leaves his little corner obviously bothered by his thoughts he heads towards a little bar inside the airport. He makes his way to the bar and motions for the bartender.

Hamish: Jack and coke straight no rocks.

Hamish pulls up a stool as the bartender comes back with his drink. Hamish wraps his hand around the glass and takes a drink from it, the liquid burnt its way down his throat and straight to his soul, where it would hopefully go back to drowning the thoughts of her. Hamish downs the rest of his drinks and motions for another. The bartender comes up and pours his drink. We notice this time a nice looking blonde out of the corner of our eye. The blonde is dressed in a short mini skirt, black, with a white spaghetti strap styled tank top. Hamish looked her over but turns his attention back to his drink. He had to get his mind off of Ali and the past. He had a future to focus on. His contract had came up from Hostility Wrestling Federation, and the place seemed to be going under. So he had found his way to the sVo. Hoping to find work there. Paige invited him out to watch Countdown to Violence here in Canada or ka-na-de-ah as Hamish often jokingly referred to it as. He was impressed by the athletes in sVo and quickly signed a contract. Now he was headed to Vegas, the city of sin, someplace where one can hide from themselves twenty four hours a day and that’s exactly what Hamish wanted. He had been signed to participate in what is called "roulette night" where he could face one of many opponents maybe more than one?

Hamish reached into his back jeans pocket. He pulls out a piece of paper where we can see names scribbled upon it. Hamish reads them out to himself.

Hamish: Alex Ross, Billy Jacobs, Blaze, Brock, Chris Bond, Christian Roman, Drew Carrig, Faith Winchester, Frank James, Gunner Lang, Hooligan, JD Hart, Sean Peters, Joseph Equinox, Fiasco, Kaden Alonzo, Matt Thornhill, Mike Manson, Nathan Paradine, Psyko Stevo, Quinten Fayte, Rodimus, Sensei Shredder, Steven Steele, TJ Raven, Talon, Travis Williams, William Vorheez, Zero. Lets see that’s like thirty some people at this event. I really need to figure out who some of these people are. Lets see, Alex Ross has to be pretty good he's the new champion, I'm guessing sense this Psyko Stevo guy has had the title forever that he's damn good as well. Billy Jacobs.......

Hamish puts his hand on his chin playing with his goatee like he's thinking pretty hard.

Hamish: Oh that’s right, that was the little preacher guy from Hostility, well fuck that little preachy bitch. He wont much of shit back then, he can't be that bad now. Blaze, wonder if he's related to Billy Blaze? Probably not, this guy is white or asian or something. Billy was darker than the night, but damn was he talented. Whipped my ass a few times in Big Money. Not sure if this Blaze guy is too good or not, he's one of those I need to look up more.

Hamish pulls a pencil from his breast pocket of his button down black shirt, and marks out the names Alex Ross, Stevo and Billy Jacobs as they he know so are not someone he needs to learn more about. Keeping those he needs to research more upon his list.

Hamish: Brock, Chris Bond, Chrisitian Roman? Lets see don’t know brock, don’t care. Bond, hey that was the gay guy singing in the backstage about blowjobs the other week and something about trying to tap the boss lady. Yea, not gonna worry about him, he'll be too busy singing to fight. Roman, hey he's a champion at the moment if memory serves me right so he cant suck to badly. Maybe I'll be able to fight him this week and get some cold first time out. Hell I'd be cool with that.....

Hamish finishes his second jack and coke flipping the glass over onto the napkin to indicate he was done. His mind was focused on work now, and that was good enough to keep the thoughts of Ali and Gabriel from creeping back in for now. Hamish reaches into his breast pocket grabbing his pack of Marlboro's but starts to look around and realize this was one of those uppity northern places where you cant smoke anywhere. Hamish just shakes his head dropping the pack back into his pocket and focusing back on the list.

Hamish: Drew Carrig, was suppose to be some sort of big champion before but I'm not sure who he is. Faith Winchester.....nahhh couldn't be...... Frank James, the upset winner last night in the battle royal. I wouldn't mind going a round with him either. If he could survive the battle royal he must be pretty tough, would be a good gage of how tough the talent is here. I've heard a bit about this Gunner Lang guy, Don’t know Hooligan, but if he's irish I might like him. JD Hart? Sean peters? Joseph Equ..Equal? Equeeknocks? Lets just call him Joseph....Fiasco, hey Julian, wonder if he's still trying to be all mafiaso bullshit gangster or not.

Hamish skims over the list as he's growing tired of thinking about this weeks event.

Hamish: There's a guy named Quinten....sweet, easy tarentino jokes abound. Rodimus, ah I know that guy he's the red version of the green lantern looking superhero wannabe. He's either really cool or really gay, not sure yet. Sensei Shredder....oh god, that ones way to fucking easy. Please tell me there’s no one on this list named Splinter. Steven Seagal! oh wait that’s Steele...damn..... Ah TJ Raven, if there is anyone on this list I would really like to fight it is this pretty boy right here. I don’t know him but that pretty boy face and that cocky attitude, I'd so love to rearrange his face and make him look like a picasso painting.... Dont know Talon, but cool face paint though. Travis Williams, oh yes the gold guy...how quaint, I was always a silver guy myself. Jason's brother, and the number guy. Yea.....so lets see to recap that means oh yes that not a one of these fockers are worth my time other than Faith. I'd have all the time in the world for Faith, a sweet southern belle' that’s fine as hell.

Hamish looks out of the corner of his eye spotting the blonde who's moved a few seats closer. The woman finally gets from her chair and makes her way to Hamish and leans against the bar beside him.

Blonde: Hey there stud.

Hamish: Hey there whore.

Blonde: What did you just call me?

Hamish: Look if it looks like a whore

Hamish waves his hands up and down at her outfit.

Hamish: If it smells like a whore.

Hamish sniffs the air

Hamish: And by that i mean like rotting fish, and sounds like a whore. I mean really who says stud anymore? What am I a horse? Please. But if it looks like, smells like, and sounds like a whore, then it must be......

Hamish rolls his hand in a circle as if to get the Blonde to answer his rhetorical question.

Hamish: *in almost a whisper* a whore...

Hamish just smirks as the Blonde looks shocked at what the man just said. Hamish stands up and pulls a twenty from his wallet and tosses it over the bar for his tab and tip and pulls out another twenty and tosses it to the blonde.

Hamish: Buy yourself some class, and maybe a checkup, your herpes are flaring up on your upper lip.

Hamish turns and heads out of the bar as we hear the loud speaker calling for all passengers. Hamish heads down a terminal. Hamish is stopped by a stewardess he shows her his tickets and she ushers him towards the front in the first class section. Hamish walks up to the far more comfortable seats and kicks back in one. He looks across the isle from him and sees a little teeny bopper singing some Miley Cyrus song and quite badly at that. He sees sitting beside her some business suit, most likely her father. Who is click clacking away on a computer and cursing under his breath about business deals going sour. Hamish grabs his hat and puts it over his face as he leans back in the chair getting ready for a very long and annoying flight to Vegas.
Hamish Graham
September 19th 1963- April 4th 2013
Long Live The Reaper


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