One Step Foward - Two Steps Back

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Brock Anderson

One Step Foward - Two Steps Back

Post by Brock Anderson »

OOC: Not sure how I feel about this one. Toyed around and still trying to find where I’m taking the character while keeping him vibrant and energetic.

The scene fades in with an overview of Austin, Texas. Touring us from drone level and showing the nightlife scene of ACL, other live music venues and finally the top of the Moody Center. The arena is lit up with orange and white lights as the Texas Longhorns basketball team take on bitter rivals, Texas Tech. We jump from the overview camera to ground-level, seeing the front of the stadium, where people are pouring out of the exits, marking the end of the game. One of attendees exiting the building is Brock Anderson, who the camera begins to follow front ways and focus in on as he walks down the busy street, fans everywhere.

Brock Anderson: Welcome to Austin friggin’ Texas! Blueberry in the red state… makes sense Ricky Starks called this home at one point. Between all the green haired people and..

Brock limps his wrist

Brock Anderson: We won’t go there.. low hanging fruit and quite frankly we’re better than that.

Brock looks annoyed as he walks down the street, trying to make his way through the busy crowd.

Brock Anderson: Anyways, couldn’t even tell you who even won that game between those two sorry excuses of basketball teams. It was like a rewind of last Monday Night watching Ricky Starks against MJF. Was almost like watching paint dry.

Brock thumbs back behind him in reference to the basketball game he just left, as he smirks smugly. The crowds begin to dwindle down and we get through the bulk of the mess.

Brock Anderson: Make no mistake, that’s a jab on both of y’all… But what’s even more painful is knowing that I’m gonna have to carry the load to show off MY talents this Monday because wouldn’t you know… I also get to take on Ricky..

Brock shakes his head as he finally comes to a stop. Moody Center can still be seen in the background. Brock shoves his hands into his vest initialed “B.A.” over the left chest.

Brock Anderson: And here’s what I’m gathering so far.. we’re on a Ricky Starks retirement tour. Let’s see..

Brock takes one hand out of his pocket and begins to count on his fingers, starting with his thumb.

Brock Anderson: …One… decides he’s too good to open up the card one night I guess, we all saw the advertisements and posters announcing his match. Where the hell was he? Your guess is as good as mine.

Brock lowers he head and shakes it in disgust, then goes back to looking to the camera.

Brock Anderson: …Two… management GRANTS his wishes of headlining a show with MJF in his HOME TOWN, no less, of New Orleans. You’d think he’d come to town, singing and praising his people, talking himself up and showboating around as it seems he likes to do… Flop..

He rolls his eyes and looks to the heavens.

Brock Anderson: …And by God, that brings us to three.

Brock finishes counting on his fingers, thumb, index, and middle finger out in front of him as he shakes it while talking.

Brock Anderson: Three.. we find ourselves in Ricky’s backyard. MJF already sent you packing in your own house but your retirement tour decided to end its stop in the place where you, Ricky, have made a name for yourself. Where you were able to climb up the ladder and be able to even be considered on making it here in Eee-Bee-Dubya-Eff. Three where you’ll finally strike out and I send your ass packing back down the road to go wrestle with the wanna-bees and has-beens… I’ll let you decide which set YOU belong to…

Brock looks side to side, shoving his hands back into his vest once more.

Brock Anderson: You come into the biggest pro wrestling federation, you get an opportunity to main event and now you’re down to just about the start of the show with the guy who.. although excellent in every facet… but just started. Ricky you’ve fell two steps back and I’ve just gained one step forward. At this rate, you’ll be at someone’s birthday party taking a light tube to the back and I’ll be main eventing every Monday night.

He smirks as he then points in a random direction.

Brock Anderson: At least it’ll be pretty damn convenient for you to take your beating, and then go lick your wounds in one of these God forsaken allay ways and then go back to work at a level where we’ll never have to see your ridiculous ass again.

He chuckles then goes back to serious demeanor, he puts his hands out in front of him, almost in a negotiating manner. As if negotiating with himself.

Brock Anderson: But then I have to remember. At the same time, I reckon you’ve made it here for a reason. Maybe cause you manage to talk your way into thing, I don’t know.. Maybe cause you actually MIGHT have an inkling of talent in the ring. Who knows? Who cares? I don’t; because regardless of how lazy of a wrestler I think you are and how much I don’t respect you as a performer in that ring, based on what I’ve seen with your stay… my father always told me to NEVER underestimate another man. And there’s no excuse for me to do it this time. I’m still gonna put the work in and pick you apart piece by piece until there’s not a thing left. I’m gonna bring the same fire from last week.. and the week before that.. and every week before those.. and the intensity that’s growing right here, right now.. I’m bringing THAT to the ring, Ricky. And there’s only a few things in this world that’s absolute, trust me, you’re not one of them, but me standing over you with my hand raised, this Monday, is. Horns down for you, Starks.

Brock puts the “horns down” gesture out in from of him as he walks away from the camera. He trails away down the sidewalk as the camera fades to black.