Post by "The Ripper" Danny B on Feb 17, 2014 20:47:29 GMT -5
Maple Grove hospital stands tall in the background at Skytz the pimp stands in front microphone at the ready.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have received word that Danny B has discharged himself from hospital and will be out here in a minute. Wait look, there he is now!”
Skytz and his clumsy cameraman rush towards the pickup point where Danny B is climbing into the back of a Rolls Royce Phantom.
“Danny! Wait, I’d like a word!”
The Ripper stops dead in his tracks, he stares straight at the questionable reporter, his eyes a fiery red instead of their usual striking green.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Danny, Hi, I’m Skytz, the back…”
“I know who the fuck you are, I asked you what the fuck you want!”
There was an eerie coldness to Ripper’s words, Skytz stepped back a little as Danny climbed back out of the car and began to stare him down.
“Mr Ripper, sir. We were all wondering if you knew who attacked you earlier tonight on Massacre?”
Danny suddenly broke a smile, he laughed, a warm and hearty laugh, when he came back down, eyes his eyes piercing green once again, his next warms were spoken with a much more humanly tone.
“Boy, do you think for one second that if I knew who it was I would be climbing into the back of this beautiful luxury car to be taken home? No sir, I would be running to find that motherfucker and rip his puny head from his shoulder, before shoving it up his ass and displaying the entire retched creature on a spike for the fucking world to see.”
“I see, that was, graphic.”
Danny raised an eyebrow at Skytz.
“Graphic, coming from a pimp that handles the rejected end of Big Bifford’s line of women? Seriously brother, get the fuck out of here before I make an example out of you.”
Skytz seems to do as he is told, feebly thanking Danny for his time and vanishing. Danny shakes his head, pearly smile still etched across his face, and finally climbs into the car.
“Take me home Bartholomew.”
“Very good sir, how are you feeling?”
“Fine if I’m honest, if I had of been conscious I would have told them not to bother bringing me here.”
“I see, may I ask sir, are you aware of anything that may lead you to know who it was that attacked you?”
“Not really Barty, I mean I heard bagpipes in the distance, but it seemed too far away for it to have been the armoured man or whatever the hell that coward is supposed to be. All I know is, however it is didn’t wanna be found out, he hit and he ran. However it was better watch out, because whether I get them in the ring or in the street, I will be making them wear their spine as a necklace.”
No more words were said as the car rolled onto the interstate, out of Maple Groves, and trundled along silently down the open roads.
Danny must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was looking out the windows at farmlands drenched in the morning sun.
“Barty, where are we?”
“Sorry sir this is Serena, Bartholomew is resting.”
“Hang on, there’s two of you?!”
“Yes sir, your schedule often means that you have to travel long distances, so there is always two drivers present for you.”
“Clever bunch of bastard aren’t you?”
“We like to believe so sir, you pay us to be. In answer to your original question we are in Wisconsin, just twenty minutes shy of Green Bay.”
“Ok… wait, we just came from Minnesota, what the fuck are we doing in Wisconsin, my home’s the other fucking way!”
“Sir you have been scheduled to attend a press conference for Resurrection this morning in Green Bay.”
“That fucking President, fine. But there better be a Mocha and a bear claw waiting for me when I get out this car.”
“It shall be done.”
Danny B raised the divider between himself and Serena, let down his window and lit a cigarette, thanking himself for always keeping a couple of spare packets in the car, as his seemed to have vanished between his match and coming to in the hospital.
“A fucking press conference, what a wanker. Oh well, it will give me some time to vent about something or other I am sure. But I have way more important things to worry about, like my upcoming battle royal. Although it wouldn’t surprise me if Dean was trying to keep me off my game to stop me from just walking the damn thing. Tell you something, the amount of people in that match, it should already be for the internet championship, it’s irksome to me that I will bet all of those morons and then have to face the emo or the painted emo the next week for the belt.
Still, if people thought this match will Harold was brutal they aint seen nothing yet. Harold was almost an acceptable opponent, but let’s face it, he wasn’t even close to my level. The fact that he could still speak at the end means my job wasn’t finished, of course I was going to finish it before I got jumped, but alas, that did not occur.
What will occur though, is me getting in that ring with eleven opponents, thirteen if Zeus and Hades get up in time and showing each and every one of them why I am the masterful warrior that I am.
I overheard the commentary blokes last night, ‘he doesn’t get the name Ripper without having violent tendencies.’ Dunno which it was but they hit the nail on the head there. You know, I never chose that name, it was given to me by my mentor, he gave it to me because of my apparent liking of harming people in that ring. It has been said by he and a few others that I have no off switch, when I get into a match I get into it to decimate. I can understand why some may think that, but it would take an unintelligent man to behave that way. I calculate far too much to be that kind of uncontrollable machine.
That isn’t me, and a dozen or so opponents may just find that out in a week’s, and the cherry on that particular cake for me, is that only one man getting in that Ring has any idea what the fuck they are going up against, and that is Chris. His history with me will have him being the only one prepared, but Crazy Chris has never beat me, and he never will. The others, well they have no idea in hell what is is store for them when I unleash my warrior’s wrath in that ring. Some are good, some not so much, and some yet to be determined, but none of them are me, none of them ever will be and none of them stand a chance in blue hell of touching me in that ring, never mind throwing me over the top, yes I may be small, and I may be light, but I have the agility to match such a stature.
Let me put it this way for you all, last week Harold Jones was scheduled to compete in that battle royal, one single match with me, and his name is suddenly removed from the listings. That is a small taste of what I am capable of, if you think that was brutal, you aint seen nothing yet!”
“Sir, we have arrived.”
“Ah fuck it, take this back to the estate Serena, I will make my way back from here.”
“If you so wish sir.”
As Danny stepped out of the car and closed the door, he had barely been given his bear claw and coffee by the time the car was out of sight. A swarm of paparazzi surrounded Danny, one hitting him on the back of the head with a boom. Danny turned and winked at one of the camera, before diving with an almighty war cry into the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have received word that Danny B has discharged himself from hospital and will be out here in a minute. Wait look, there he is now!”
Skytz and his clumsy cameraman rush towards the pickup point where Danny B is climbing into the back of a Rolls Royce Phantom.
“Danny! Wait, I’d like a word!”
The Ripper stops dead in his tracks, he stares straight at the questionable reporter, his eyes a fiery red instead of their usual striking green.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Danny, Hi, I’m Skytz, the back…”
“I know who the fuck you are, I asked you what the fuck you want!”
There was an eerie coldness to Ripper’s words, Skytz stepped back a little as Danny climbed back out of the car and began to stare him down.
“Mr Ripper, sir. We were all wondering if you knew who attacked you earlier tonight on Massacre?”
Danny suddenly broke a smile, he laughed, a warm and hearty laugh, when he came back down, eyes his eyes piercing green once again, his next warms were spoken with a much more humanly tone.
“Boy, do you think for one second that if I knew who it was I would be climbing into the back of this beautiful luxury car to be taken home? No sir, I would be running to find that motherfucker and rip his puny head from his shoulder, before shoving it up his ass and displaying the entire retched creature on a spike for the fucking world to see.”
“I see, that was, graphic.”
Danny raised an eyebrow at Skytz.
“Graphic, coming from a pimp that handles the rejected end of Big Bifford’s line of women? Seriously brother, get the fuck out of here before I make an example out of you.”
Skytz seems to do as he is told, feebly thanking Danny for his time and vanishing. Danny shakes his head, pearly smile still etched across his face, and finally climbs into the car.
“Take me home Bartholomew.”
“Very good sir, how are you feeling?”
“Fine if I’m honest, if I had of been conscious I would have told them not to bother bringing me here.”
“I see, may I ask sir, are you aware of anything that may lead you to know who it was that attacked you?”
“Not really Barty, I mean I heard bagpipes in the distance, but it seemed too far away for it to have been the armoured man or whatever the hell that coward is supposed to be. All I know is, however it is didn’t wanna be found out, he hit and he ran. However it was better watch out, because whether I get them in the ring or in the street, I will be making them wear their spine as a necklace.”
No more words were said as the car rolled onto the interstate, out of Maple Groves, and trundled along silently down the open roads.
Danny must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was looking out the windows at farmlands drenched in the morning sun.
“Barty, where are we?”
“Sorry sir this is Serena, Bartholomew is resting.”
“Hang on, there’s two of you?!”
“Yes sir, your schedule often means that you have to travel long distances, so there is always two drivers present for you.”
“Clever bunch of bastard aren’t you?”
“We like to believe so sir, you pay us to be. In answer to your original question we are in Wisconsin, just twenty minutes shy of Green Bay.”
“Ok… wait, we just came from Minnesota, what the fuck are we doing in Wisconsin, my home’s the other fucking way!”
“Sir you have been scheduled to attend a press conference for Resurrection this morning in Green Bay.”
“That fucking President, fine. But there better be a Mocha and a bear claw waiting for me when I get out this car.”
“It shall be done.”
Danny B raised the divider between himself and Serena, let down his window and lit a cigarette, thanking himself for always keeping a couple of spare packets in the car, as his seemed to have vanished between his match and coming to in the hospital.
“A fucking press conference, what a wanker. Oh well, it will give me some time to vent about something or other I am sure. But I have way more important things to worry about, like my upcoming battle royal. Although it wouldn’t surprise me if Dean was trying to keep me off my game to stop me from just walking the damn thing. Tell you something, the amount of people in that match, it should already be for the internet championship, it’s irksome to me that I will bet all of those morons and then have to face the emo or the painted emo the next week for the belt.
Still, if people thought this match will Harold was brutal they aint seen nothing yet. Harold was almost an acceptable opponent, but let’s face it, he wasn’t even close to my level. The fact that he could still speak at the end means my job wasn’t finished, of course I was going to finish it before I got jumped, but alas, that did not occur.
What will occur though, is me getting in that ring with eleven opponents, thirteen if Zeus and Hades get up in time and showing each and every one of them why I am the masterful warrior that I am.
I overheard the commentary blokes last night, ‘he doesn’t get the name Ripper without having violent tendencies.’ Dunno which it was but they hit the nail on the head there. You know, I never chose that name, it was given to me by my mentor, he gave it to me because of my apparent liking of harming people in that ring. It has been said by he and a few others that I have no off switch, when I get into a match I get into it to decimate. I can understand why some may think that, but it would take an unintelligent man to behave that way. I calculate far too much to be that kind of uncontrollable machine.
That isn’t me, and a dozen or so opponents may just find that out in a week’s, and the cherry on that particular cake for me, is that only one man getting in that Ring has any idea what the fuck they are going up against, and that is Chris. His history with me will have him being the only one prepared, but Crazy Chris has never beat me, and he never will. The others, well they have no idea in hell what is is store for them when I unleash my warrior’s wrath in that ring. Some are good, some not so much, and some yet to be determined, but none of them are me, none of them ever will be and none of them stand a chance in blue hell of touching me in that ring, never mind throwing me over the top, yes I may be small, and I may be light, but I have the agility to match such a stature.
Let me put it this way for you all, last week Harold Jones was scheduled to compete in that battle royal, one single match with me, and his name is suddenly removed from the listings. That is a small taste of what I am capable of, if you think that was brutal, you aint seen nothing yet!”
“Sir, we have arrived.”
“Ah fuck it, take this back to the estate Serena, I will make my way back from here.”
“If you so wish sir.”
As Danny stepped out of the car and closed the door, he had barely been given his bear claw and coffee by the time the car was out of sight. A swarm of paparazzi surrounded Danny, one hitting him on the back of the head with a boom. Danny turned and winked at one of the camera, before diving with an almighty war cry into the crowd.