Watching the Ball Drop

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Watching the Ball Drop

Post  Constrictor on Thu Jan 29, 2009 5:57 pm

A shadowy figure crouches atop a dumpster in an alley beside a pub, a discarded newspaper blowing through the circle of a street light from the breeze. A sign above the bar declares it the 'Bourbon and Beefsteak'. The door swings open, and a man enormous in both height and girth steps out, his skin shining strangely in the dim light. As he comes closer, Wrecking Ball's distinctive features become obvious. He heads down the street toward CWF headquarters, and The constrictor slips off the dumpster to follow.

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Meanwhile, Gotti paces back and forth before the Mayan calendar on the wall of The Constrictor's dressing room, berating Phil "The Drill" Thompson.

"Where the hell is that little freak? He's gotta be training, an' you, you washed up hack, you were supposed to keep an eye on him. What the hell am I payin' you for, anyway? You were just a nothin' kneebreaker for my family when I found you.

"Ever since you got your back broke in that table match against Slaughter- oh boo hoo- your career has been in the toilet. I hire you out of the goodness of my heart, an' you lose my best wrestler? What am I supposed to do?"


Thompson replies, his face betraying only a hint of a smirk.

"You could try signing Hawkins. He's not bad. A little showy, but he's got skill."

Gotti turns and glares at Thompson.

"You think I ain't tried that? I done everything. Only thing I ain't done is call his parole officer about the wallet incident. That's my trump card, but I ain't ready to play it yet. I'm gonna make -you- an offer you can't refuse, though- go find The Constrictor, or be found yourself, face-down in the Hudson. Capice?"

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The heavy footsteps of Wrecking Ball can be heard beyond the door as the pair bicker, but The Constrictor makes little noise as he shadows the larger man down the hall. Wrecking Ball's skin gleams brightly under the strong lights of the weight room as he removes his shirt and tosses it in the corner atop a pile of towels. As he turns away from the door to heave a massive plate onto a bench press bar, The Constrictor slips through the doorway and shimmies up a rope in the corner, swinging silently into the metal rafters to watch his opponent.

In the background, Thompson can be seen running by the open doorway, frantically searching.

Constrictor

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