Post by brooks on Jul 16, 2011 12:23:10 GMT -5
The camera was held oddly...perhaps one-handed, but definitely no professional grade machine. The shot itself seemed a bit distorted but as it moved back a little it was clear the reason for this was that the camera was filming through the glass of a window...a kitchen window to be precise. It was clean though the light hitting it showed that slight rainbow streak from whatever glass cleaner the lady of the house preferred to use. The shine was distracting, lending that distortion and a bit of sunglow to the scene within. Cynthia Cross was patting her toffee colored curls back into place, a slightly breathless demeanor about her as she straightened the pretty daisy dotted top she wore. Turning to the counter she picked up a pair of plates that held a piece of peach pie on them along with a dollop of slightly softened vanilla ice cream and carried them over to the table. There already seated was her Cowboy, with a smile as wide as Texas on his lips, a brief murmured 'Thanks Daisy' barely picked up by the camera's inset microphone. Then came the clatter of forks as the pie was consumed, a pause in that activity a time or two as he might say something that amused the Creole lovely and had her laughing with cheeks pinked with a blush. Now and then, bits of that conversation were clear, and the subject matter was what would be expected of those in the business.
“Cher amour...I gotta say it. I don't understand why some people, they talk like they do. Like they all big and bad, when they just...ain't. Like that Kyle Travis you're facing this week. Sure, I know he beat you before when you pretty much was wrestlin' in the same jeans you wore to work on the ranch and boots with the same dust from it...but is he really that stupid, be thinking that you stayed stuck in time like a leaf caught in amber? I mean...maybe for him time stand still but not the rest of the world. You are so much better than him, Grand Homme. It's ridiculous that he gets the shots he does. Makes me angry...because you deserve more than that connard ever will. Him all smug about what he done in the past but he leave out all the times he fell short! Against damn near everyone that he talk down about, roll his eyes and all that idiot does is say he's better than everyone but he sure ain't proved it.”[/color]
A slight jump, shake of the screen as the camera moved to focus on Brooks now, as he pushed his plate back with a sigh.
“I don't know Daisy. I kinda feel sorry for this new group he's pulled together...I mean, it ain't like its ever worked out for him the other times he's been part of something. He just thinks that it's all about him and they are cannon fodder. Ernie K., he's the 'highest bidder' type of guy, reminds me of a few old school wrestlers I watched growing up when Jake and I...well you get it. David Caid? Give him six months and he might be half as good as he thinks he is. Maybe? If he don't get frustrated and walk off thinkin' he's owed something just because they let him sign a contract. But really...Old School was a washout, because Travis is all about greed, and he was never more than a cog in the Army of Darkness no matter what he shoots off about now. Him? He's got what's coming to him. Them? Well, they ain't really a part of this no matter what they're thinking now. But if they get in the way, you feel free to super kick them in the mush. That makes me grin, sure enough.”
There was a surge of static then as the shot jumped, and then there was a brief glimpse of the side of the house and then a step stool that had been used apparently so that a person could get the point of view shot of the kitchen. More static then, and the scene changed again. This time the view was slightly better than the prior scene, the operator in a side hallway of a gym...or maybe the recessed hall leading to the broom closet, it was hard to say. The camera was in shadow, but the space beyond in the gym was brightly lit. There was a regulation sized ring set up in the room, a heavy bag to the side was seen and Cynthia was there practicing her super kick with enough force to rock the bag on its chain much to her delight if her grin were any indication. She was wearing simple workout gear, sweatpants and a razorback tank with her gym shoes, pink and gray. The two men in the ring? Obviously the Cowboy and his 'brother' Devon Mayhem, with Darien Hacaga serving as the 'official' while they trained. Despite Devon not being medically cleared for competition the doctor was fine with him training...or he likely didn't give a rats ass otherwise. Devon was wearing his usual training gear of black running pants, black ring shoes and a white tank top with a wolf head design on it, Hacaga had gray sweatpants and a white wifebeater tank along with a ref whistle which he was blowing enthusiastically much to the men in the ring's amusement. Brooks was wearing the same type of short tights he wore in his matches, but with a short sleeved tee and running shoes. He'd just avoided Mayhem's clothesline attempt and spun on a heel to drop and legsweep Devon, sending his friend crashing to the mat on his back. Hacaga blew his whistle to pause the action, and then as if they couldn't help themselves they all busted up laughing, Devon almost howling with it as he pointed at Darien and Brooks pausing to wipe a possible tear from his eye.
“What? You got a problem with my [/i]spictacular authority huh?”[/color]
He blew the whistle again but then joined into the laughter, dropping down to sit on the mat as Devon sat up shaking his head. The scene dissolved into static again, with still no idea who was keeping tabs on the Cowboy...and his friends it seemed.[/i]
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