Post by Sammeh on Sept 5, 2013 17:54:27 GMT -5
A man in a dark hoodie, with tape around his hands sits in a locker room with the lights dimmed down. He licks his lips, flicking tongue out a few times, punching his hands together, eventually clapping. Clapping while chewing on his cheeks and flicking his tongue out. And while doing so, the door opens and in walks a camera crew, along with an interviewer.
Interviewer:
Hello Mr. Shepard, we're gonna ask you a few questions, all right?
He stays silent, looking up slightly, and then standing up to meet his gaze. He stands up, cracking his knuckles, one by one.
Interviewer:
O-okay. So... Mr. Shepard-
Mercer Shepard:
Mercer.
Interviewer:
Oh. Oh right. Mercer, how are you feeling about debuting in Extreme Anarchy Wrestling?
Mercer Shepard:
Not feeling anything. I will get paid for my skill. That is all.
Interviewer:
So you don't want to work here?
Mercer Shepard:
I want to wrestle. This is where I can wrestle. So yes. I do want to.
Interviewer:
Right. So... how're you feeling about the match?
Mercer Shepard:
Not impressed. I work better alone.
Interviewer:
You don't say a lot, do you? Isn't that your gimmick? Antisocial?
Mercer Shepard:
I am the most complete fighter in the world. I do not need to speak often. You are not what I need.
Mercer grabs the face of the Interviewer, turning it sideways.
Mercer Shepard:
Why are you pestering me? Huh? I want to fight. I want to brawl. And I'm doing what you people asked. Why are you always staying so damn long?
Mercer sniffs the air.
Mercer Shepard:
You smell like fear. And piss.
Mercer grabs the microphone from the Interviewer and pushes him into a locker, talking into the microphone right in front of his face.
Mercer Shepard:
Let's be frank here, okay? Let me get this out of the way, everything I know management doesn't want me to talk about. I came here to fight. I came here to dominate. I didn't come here to fit into anybody's position or role or gimmick. I don't have a gimmick. I am what I am.
Mercer moves the face of the Interviewer around, slapping it a few times. He smirks slightly.
Mercer Shepard:
You untrained, miserable, corporate scumbags are always so squishy. Look at you. You're nothing. A fat piece of crap. And so are all of you out there, watching this. I don't give a shit about what any you think of me. I just want to fight. And I will.
Mercer slams the Interviewer's head into the locker.
Mercer Shepard:
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!?
Mercer Shepard puts his face inches away from the interviewer's cheek.
Mercer Shepard:
Look above. You see those shadows? You see the vultures circling around me? They're all coming for my head, you see. Those vultures are people like you and the wrestlers that are all here to make sure I never get a shot at any title. They want to take everything away from me. You all want to take my shot in Extreme Anarchy Wrestling away. They want to take my spot. Something I deserve. Something I earned!
Mercer Shepard:
I will prove all of you wrong. You see, I'm a rat. I take my opportunity and I strike. I scare people. I scare women and children. And that's okay. I want them to be scared. Because when they run away, when they're vulnerable, when I've destroyed their walls of sanity, I can pick off the scraps.
Mercer starts walking away, but as he gets to a distance, he performs his finisher, The Sabretooth, on the interviewer, kicking him into the locker, denting it, then quickly performing The Fang on the cameraman. He picks up the dropped camera, looking at it angrily.
Mercer Shepard:
I AM MERCER SHEPARD! I AM THE WOLF! YOU LOVE ME! YOU WILL LOVE ME BECAUSE I DEMAND IT!
Mercer Shepard drops the camera, looking at the downed crewmen before taking a seat back on the bench in the locker room, cracking his knuckles once more as men writhe in pain below him.
