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Cry Baby....; nov. 15th overdrive rp
Topic Started: Nov 4 2010, 02:11 PM (112 Views)
"Irish" Ian Chadwick

(War...war never changes. New enemies fight over new reasons. New lines are drawn, new players call the shots...but I one thing remains the same. People get hurt. Horrorcore saw the return of a man who only true fans of the glorious CZW would remeber. The event also saw the return of the lost souls claimed by the "Damage Control" initiative. Not to be out done, the returning Ian Chadwick made a statement. That statment being "I knocked your punk ass out, Timmons."

Ian is walking through a corridor in the backstage are of the Ethiad Arena, holding a bag of ice on his head and beer in his hand. A Fosters...it's Australian for beer. He shuffles his feet slowly towards a door labled with his name, opens the door and enters. He sits, gingerly, onto a folding chair...removing the bag of ice from his head, which was covering his eye and forehead. Removing the bag, the severity of his injury is shown. His eye is swollen closed, the bruise stretching from bar below his cheek bone to near is hair line. He touches it softly to gauge the soreness as the fight doctor walks up to him.)

Doctor: Ian that doesn't look good.

Ian: Doc...as strange as you may think this sounds...this isn't the first time I've been punched with brass knuckles.

(Ian says with a smile on his face as the doctor shakes his head.)

Doctor: I'd like to get you to the hospital to make sure the break is going to heal on it's own.

Ian: You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?

Doctor: Absolutely not.

Ian: Well...let's get this over with.

(Ian gets up off the chair he was sitting in, with a little help from the doctor, and walks out the door. The scene fades to black.

The scene opens again to see Ian laying in a hospital bed, a bandage around his eye. The flouresent light flickers on him as the hospital's resident doctor enetrs the room, clipboard in hand.)

Ian: What's the prognosis, doc?

Doctor: Well...your orbital bone is cracked, not broken.

Ian: So no surgery?

Doctor:Nope...it should heal on it's own in about 2 weeks, give or take a few days.

Ian: Oh thank god! I'd hate to be side-lined after my first match back.

Doctor: This happened to you during your match?

Ian: Fuck no! (laughs) You think "The Prince of Proper" Tim Timmons did this to me? Not on his best day and my worst.

Doctor:OK...well...we're going to keep you overnight to make sure you're ok...now get some rest.

Ian: Sure thing, doc.

(The doctor walks out of the room to let Ian rest. Ian closes his eyes, only to have his short lived rest be interuppted by the hospital rooms phone ring. He rolls over, saying "what the fuck," and answers...)

Ian: This better be important....Oh, hey Theresa....Yea i'm doing alright, doc says I'll be fine by the next Overdrive....Yea I'll take the match. Who's it against?....Sign me up! I've been dying to get my hands on O'Connor....Yea, I'll be able to make it. They're only keeping me overnight. I'll just have to catch an early flight tomorrow....Alright, sweetie, I'll see you soon.

(Ian hangs up the phone with a smile on his face.)

Ian: I knew they'd book me against spoiled bitch. "Irish" Ian Chadwick vs. Riley O'Connor...sounds good to me.

(He lays on his back, smiling, hands folded behind his head. He closes his eye and slowly drifts into sleep. The scene fades out.

The scene picks back up with Ian sitting on the end of a bed in a hotel room. Luggage sits on the bed and Ian wears faded jeans and a Tim Timmons t-shirt. He's talking on the phone and we come in mid-conversation...)

Ian:....The flight was alright I guess, long....The room? It's in Japan, buddy, it's small....It should be a good tour, Japanese ladies and sake....(laughs) You're right....Yea, the match should be fun. I finally get my hands on O'Connor....WHAT?!....When did they make th change?....That dirty little weasel kinived his way into my fucking match 'cause he's a sore loser?!....Yea! I know! Since when is a perfectly timed counter punch lucky?....He's just mad 'cause his little fanny bandit buddies turned on him and Jeremiah Johnson, or whatever the fuck his name is, was fisting his face instead of his ass. Jimmy, I'm so pissed off right now....I know I should be focusing on the match, but this is fucked up!....He filmed a promo about me?....Send it to my phone....I'll call you back.

(Ian hangs up his cell phone and waits for the flix message. A few minutes later in arrives and Ian watches it. The range of emotions he goes through a varied from angry to amused. After it's over he calls Jimmy ((James Dooley)) back...)

Ian:Hey....Yea I watched it....My thought's exactly....Oh my god, I know. My man needs to calm down. Lay off the 'roids or something....I don't know, Jim. The shit he was saying was outlandish. I mean it's one thing to call my perfect counter punch a fluke, but to say that he should be head-lining a pay-per-veiw? That dude is really dilusional....He acts like he some legend in the sport....I know!....Mike King carried him to the Tag Team Title, he was an X-Division champ ONCE, and what the hell is the Hardcore Title? That's like the trophy they give to the kids that didn't plce in competitions....I know it wasn't a fluke! The whole world seen it wasn't a fluke! Just 'cause he's not talented enough to see my lightning fast counter punch coming at him doesn't mean it was lucky....Oh, I know. Gonna knock me out? HA! I ain't never been knocked out!....He's just a cry baby, Jim. He cried and stomped his feet untill he got his way like an eleven year old girl....Right! (laughs) It's not the first time I've been doubled teamed by two bitches....Nah, this shit is far from over with Tim....Yea, I got to take a shower anyway....Talk to ya later Jim.

(Ian hangs up with Jimmy with a smile on his face. He chuckles and says "ha...knock me out," as he takes his Tim Timmons shirt off and throws it in the trash. The camera stays on the garbage can as Ian walks away. He returns seconds later and throws a lit book of matches into the garbage can, setting to t-shirt on fire. Ian stands there and stares at the burning shirt for a moment and says "fuck you, bitch," Then walks away. The scene fades as it zooms in on the photo of Tim on the shirt burning.)
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