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Eggs. Really?
Topic Started: Mar 12 2011, 11:16 PM (210 Views)
Mr.Heart
sVo Rookie
[ * ]
For a little over a year he had made this journey. It had become somewhat of a ritual. Car filled with petrol, the driver with his little hat perched on his square head, champagne on ice and dolly mixtures for nibbles. The air conditioning keeping him cool and the luscious tones of Adele playing from the car stereo.

Mr. Heart had made this trip ever since his eldest brother had been found guilty and sent down.

Heart and his driver were on their way to the prison. Re-enacting the previous weeks visit, and the week before that and the month before that. The same road, the same snacks and the same drinks.

It had not been easy for the family knowing that the eldest Heart brother was a murderer. The other two sons, Jack and Scott William Heart (Mr. Heart) had never been good old fashioned Christian boys but they never showed signs of a cold blooded killer. Crush, however, he had lived a life of poverty, of crime, of neglect. He had come to resent everyone and everything around him.

His head was filled with hatred and anger.

On that fateful night, when the businessman was found in poisoned in his office chair the DNA of a Heart was left behind.

It was Crush who had taken blame.


“Driver, this air conditioning is mighty powerful today. Please, turn it off. Ones testicles are beginning to freeze back here.” The brash millionaire shouted from the backseat of his expensive Bentley.

Heart lounged back in his heated seat, taking a sip from his champagne flute. He wondered what mind set Crush would be in this week. The previous weeks he had not wanted to speak, keeping his head facing the table, hiding a blacked eye.

A bleep sounded from the front of the car, the satellite phoned whizzed into life. The driver took the call, vetted the caller and passed the call through to his employer.


“Hello.... Yes, I am on my way there now.... About half way. Why?... Look, stop with all these questions Jeffrey. You are my butler not my personally interviewer. Now, what is the problem?.... So the so called Assassin speaks... E-mail me his promotional material. I shall delight myself in his incoherent ramblings.” The call is ended as Heart picks up his iPad from the luggage holder.

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“Eggs. Really?

The process of a human thought is one of wonder and merriment. For a human being to have a thought it takes nanoseconds. For them to rationalise that thought it takes nanoseconds. For them to put that thought into bodily actions it takes a few seconds more.

So why, pray tell, should someone with a human brain, presumably, and a human body talk incessantly about eggs?

Forgive me, perhaps I am too wise, too intelligent or too English to realise what significance this has over our match.

I could think of words that relate to eggs and fights. Such as beaten, scrambled, whisked, separated and devoured. But in all honesty, I am still non the wiser to why Asesino would focus on an unfertilised dropping from a hen rather than talking about me, Mr. Heart.

I can only give you some advice Asesino, it is down to you to take it in, allow your brain to process it and then react. My advice to you is simple, stay away from the eggs. Stay away from your “humour”, or as I would call it ‘A joke book written by a first grader’, and concentrate your thoughts on the man who will scramble your brain, beat you down, whisk you into multiple submissions, separate your limbs from your body and then devour a five course meal, washed down with champagne after picking up his second win.”


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Cameras were not allowed into the prison grounds. Heart was unable to take in his phone or his wallet too. The thought that a prisoner having their grubby hands on mobile phones terrified the law system so much that a full body scan would take place before anyone could get into the facility. This was the one thing that Heart hated the most, his personal privacy being taken from him when he was the innocent party in the liaison.

The meeting hall was always frosty. A bullet proof wall of glass cut the room in half. Chairs were laid out in lines with a desk on either side which held a phone. The prisoners were unable to have any kind of physical contact with their visitor. As the visitors sat down, Heart included, they never once glanced at each other. There was a certain, unwritten rule, that everyone would remain in silence until their inmate arrived.

It took little more than thirty seconds before the queue of crooks, murderers, rapists and gang members were led out by armed security. The prisoners shown to their seats in single formation. Crush stood out like a sore thumb. His seven foot frame towering over the majority of his cellmates. His shoulders wide, his legs long, his stomach muscular, his arms strong and tattooed.

Crush took his seat at the desk and picked up his phone. Heart responded, their eyes meeting either side of the glass, a mutual, silent welcoming.


“Ya still comin’ all this way to see me then bro? Aint ya got ought else to be doin’ with ya time?” Crush’s voice deep and methodical.

“I always have time for my family, you of all people should be aware of that.” Heart grinned, his eyes narrowing.

The two brothers would go through the same conversation each week. The pleasant questions of ‘How have you been?’, ‘How is the rest of the family?’ and ‘Do you need me to send you anything?’ were always meant with the same replies: ‘Good’, ‘Fine’ and ‘No’.

This week would be different.


“Ya know summat, I been wonderin’.” Crush tilted his massive head to one side, resting his face harder on the handset. “Ever since I been locked in ‘ere I been thinkin’. Why aint you ever paid for ya fancy lawyer to get me a retrial?”

The question led to an immediate silence between the two brothers. It had never been asked before but had always been lingering in the atmosphere. Heart was taken aback.

“Is that what you want? You know I would do anything to get my old brother away from this vile place.”

“Then why aint ya done summat ‘bout it before?” Crush asked again.

“You have never asked.”

“I’m askin’ now.”

“Then once I leave here I shall speak to my legal team.” The grin on Heart’s face had dispersed. His eyes now wide, a bead of sweat lingering a little too long on his brow. Crush had shaken him. He had asked a question which he had managed to avoid for so long. Now he would need to act... Or not.

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“My dear Asesino, do you truly believe you have it in you to defeat a well balanced star such as Mr. Heart?

I fear you do not realise just what you are letting yourself in for.

For you see, I am not just some rookie who is yet to find his feet within this business. I am not some blue chipper with high hopes and wild expectations.

I may have only been in sVo for one week but I have travelled this globe we call Earth many times over. I have worked for organisations across the world, all with different aspects to them, all with a wide array of characters and gimmicks.

But you see, not only have I met such weird and bizarre people, such as yourself, but I have beaten them. I have destroyed them.

In my career I have travelled the world, competed in vast arrays of tournaments, divisions and championship leagues. I have faced many different people.

However, when you have been around the world once you come to realise that not everyone is different or unique. You come to realise that some people are the same, that some people are just a bland mix of dullness and ego.

Dullness... And... Ego.

Does that remind you of anyone Asesino?

Does it remind you of you?
You see, I have met and wrestled many people just like you. Full of talk and comedy one liners. The kind of person who films themselves breaking eggs, writing rude words on blackboards in schools. The type of person who thinks that throwing bricks from bridges into expanses of water is not only amusing but a worthwhile task.

You are full of ego.

Pray tell, do you really believe that you have the ability or the skill to defeat such an astounding athlete such as myself? Do you really believe that you have it in you to last the distance with an exemplary physical specimen such as myself?

I fear you do not.

And something else I fear is that come Showdown you will realise your mistake but it will all be too late. I fear that when that bell rings you will be no match for Mr. Heart. That you will wither in the aura of a true legend of the industry.

For you see Asesino, you can only get so far on ego. You can only attempt to pull the wool over the eyes of your fellow man for so long before you just get dull and boring.

At Showdown I fear that with you standing in the ring with a fine athlete such as myself that the sVo audience will see you as nothing more than a dull clone filled with an ego that far outweighs your talent.

But fear not... If they do see you in this way... You will be just like everyone who has come before you, everyone who has faced Mr. Heart and failed before you.

Much like the rest of the mindless, irritating, dull and egotistical clones across the globe... You too shall be Heart Broken.”
Edited by Mr.Heart, Mar 12 2011, 11:17 PM.
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