Abram Vance: Roleplay #1 of 2 [Chain Roleplay]
The Press Conference (Mind Games- Part 8) [Untelevised]
Bright lights and the sounds of excited voices permeate the area. A group of people, dressed in professional clothing, stand just off of a main street in front of what appears to be a large theater in downtown New York. Large posters displaying Spider Man’s image lie to the left and right of the crowd, and an elegant red carpet splits the roped off crowd. Most of the members of the crowd clutch cameras and microphones and eagerly stare out at the street, obviously waiting for some celebrity or superstar. The focus cuts to a nearby area where an unenthused Abram Vance squatting against the rotting, decaying wall of the old theater. His trademark bottle of Jack’ dangles from his left hand, a lit cigarette rests between the fingers of his right hand. He brings the cig’ to his mouth and inhales, attempting to relax in what appears to be an unfamiliar, or at least unusual, environment for him. He looks up at the sky and stares as if he is searching for something. He exhales calmly and continues to stare when a familiar, mocking voice breaks his concentration.
Beki Rayce: “You look like a blueberry in that suit.”
Vance turns his attention to Rayce who saunters seductively towards him in a tight black dress that leaves little to the imagination. A gleeful smile slips onto her face as she takes in Vance’s unusual attire: a baby blue sports coat concealing a faded yellow dress shirt and a worn, black tie, a pair of thick Ray-Bans concealing his glazed over eyes, and topped off by a pair of baggy baby blue dress pants. The smile slowly fades as she notices him clutching a thick, leather leash and tracks the leash to Vance’s new dog, ironically also named Beki, sitting nearby. She spits out angrily.
Beki Rayce: “Did you have to bring the mut?”
A smug smile curves on Vance’s face as he innocently responds, attempting to goad her.
Abram Vance: “She has a name, ya’ know…”
Rayce throws a dismissive hand up, refusing Vance to continue. She shoots off another question, with the slightest trace of annoyance in her tone.
Beki Rayce: “How’d you get it here?”
The smug smile returns to Vance’s face as he responds.
Abram Vance: “Bus drivers don’t deny blind guys their seeing eye dog, Beki.”
Vance winks while pretending to flail around like a blind man. While continuing the insulting mimicking, Vance makes sure to keep an eye locked on Rayce’s face, hoping for some sort of reaction. However, Rayce only responds with an amused chuckle. Disappointed, he stops the flailing and returns to leaning against the wall. He takes a small swig of Jack’, swallows, and asks seriously.
Abram Vance: “So why me?”
Rayce fires back immediately, in a dead-panned, almost rehearsed voice.
Beki Rayce: “McHenry is taking advantage of your name recognition…”
Vance slowly approaches Rayce and slips behind her. He whispers knowingly in her ear.
Abram Vance: “That’s all?”
Rayce folds her arms on her chest, clearly annoyed with Vance, as he returns to his spot against the wall. He inhales from his cig’ again as she fires back with snark.
Beki Rayce: “He also said something about wanting you for your fashion sense and good looks.”
Vance surprisingly chuckles at the playful remark before asking another question.
Abram Vance: “When does pretty boy get here?”
Rayce slips a cell phone from her bra and tosses a glance backwards at the open street near the paparazzi. She looks down at the time before answering.
Beki Rayce: “About ten minutes. The prick’s notorious for being late though…”
Vance nods uninterestedly, not surprised by the information. Rayce continues with the insult.
Beki Rayce: “Over inflated ego.”
Vance chuckles at the jibe while staring off into the sky yet again. Rayce realizes she’s losing his attention and addresses him directly.
Beki Rayce: “Wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya’ Abe?”
She leans in towards him and flashes him a mocking smile that demands some sort of hostile response. Vance ignores her and instead stares at the crowd gathered nearby. He notices shirts and cameras labeled with logos of various wrestling sites and celebrity tabloid companies ranging from wrestlingsmarks.com to People Magazine to TMZ. While still observing the crowd, he asks in a serious yet uninterested tone.
Abram Vance: “So, what’s the drill?”
Rayce fires off a quick answer, suggesting potential past experience with similar situations.
Beki Rayce: “Ya’ know, the usual. A few compliments about the movie, hype up the company, mention your match with Trix, and trade insults with this Starr guy.”
Vance nods and begins to rub his hands together gently. He pivots his neck around, attempting to crack it, as sweat begins to drip down his forehead. Rayce’s watchful eyes notice his unusual reaction, and she excitedly accuses.
Beki Rayce: “You’re nervous, aren’t ya?”
Rayce nearly jumps with glee at the sight of a crumbling Vance, but he just rolls his eye in response, denying the accusation with a simple gesture. Despite this, she drags on the accusation, obviously noting its effectiveness.
Beki Rayce: “Nothing to be self-conscious about, Abe. You haven’t done something like this, since like…”
She pauses for dramatic face as a smug smile creeps onto her face. Rayce cocks her head to her side and hesitantly speaks.
Beki Rayce: “Gone With The Wind?”
Vance bites his tongue in frustration but puts on a false smile to cover it up. Before she can continue, he jumps in with a biting remark of his own.
Abram Vance: “Naw, you’re forgettin’ your home release from a few years back…”
Rayce squints her eyes and stares, confused, at Vance. He spits out a hesitant question, obviously mocking her.
Abram Vance: “Ya’ know, ‘Rayce Gets Rammed’?”
Rayce lunges forward, preparing to respond with an insult of her own, as the sound of a car pulling up echoes from the street. Vance stares down at the shorter woman with a mocking, satisfied grin on his face as she grabs him by the hand and pulls him towards the crowd. He drops the bottle of Jack’, allowing it to shatter on the pavement below, before following unwillingly behind her with his dog at his heels. They take a comfortable spot just off the curb, Beki the dog at Vance’s side, as the door to a black, stretch limo is opened by the driver. Vance drops his cig’ onto the carpet and smashes it with his boot, leaving an ugly burn mark on the expensive carpet. The two stare on, preparing their greetings for actor and famous ACW superstar Stevie Starr, but are surprised as a clearly buzzed Lindsay Lohan. Bright flashes go off everywhere as the starlet begins to stumble down the carpet. The crowd shifts towards the entrance to the theater as Lohan makes her way up the red carpet, leaving Rayce and Vance privacy continue to their chat. Vance starts it back up, returning to a more serious, business tone.
Abram Vance: “So, gimme’ a run down on what I should hit on.”
Rayce opens her mouth to release another long winded reply, but Vance growls angrily.
Abram Vance: “Spark notes version, Rayce.”
Rayce smiles playfully at the annoyed demand and continues in a quick yet serious tone.
Beki Rayce: “Continue to drive the leg storyline. They want ya’ going heel at the pay-per-view so maybe rile up the idiots by threatening to injure their precious ‘babyface’ Trix.”
The seriousness in her tone has faded and has clearly been replaced by anger and annoyance, likely brought out by International Champion Nicky Trix. Despite this, she continues on with her business.
Beki Rayce: “Word on the street is creative wants to push Starr for the belt.”
Vance shoots Rayce a confused glare at the last statement.
Is the bitch tellin’ the truth or just tryin’ to get me to give her the footage she wants?
Beki Rayce: “Ya’ know, use his celebrity to score ratings.”
Vance nods, allowing his confused visage to slip from his face, and asks in a concerned tone.
Abram Vance: “And where does that leave me?”
Rayce smiles, satisfied that Vance’s selfishness played right into her hands, and Vance stares at her, attempting to read her. He shakes his head, frustrated, as she responds.
Beki Rayce: “Likely back in the mid-card, putting over no-namers.”
Rayce cocks her head to the side as she stares intensely at him, begging for an angry reaction. Vance remains calm.
Not goin’ back there. Not when I’m so close to the spotlight again.
Beki Rayce: “Unless…”
Vance slips up and raises his eyes excitedly. He shouts out.
Abram Vance: “Unless what?”
Rayce smiles, satisfied with the desperate plea that reveals Vance’s inner thoughts. Another black, stretch limo pulls up beside them, and Rayce steps towards the door, preparing to greet Starr. The crowd shifts back towards the street, hoping to snap a few pictures and snag a personal interview. Rayce looks back over her shoulder and answers.
Beki Rayce: “Unless you can outdo Starr in the interviews and steal some fans. That might just get ya’ that gold you want so badly…”
She grins knowingly as she calls him out on his selfish desires. The door to the limo opens, and Stevie Starr steps from the limo. The flashing bulbs go off again, and Starr flashes the camera his winning smile. He reaches his hand into the car, and an unidentified woman accepts it. He helps her out of the car as another series of flashes go off. Starr looks Race up and down and subtly shakes his head in disapproval of the middle-aged woman. The two exchange pleasantries, and Starr introduces her to his date for the night as Vance remains to the side in silent thought.
Why is she bein’ so cooperative all a’ sudden?
Did she get a bonus for becomin’ my manager, or does she got somethin’ else up her sleeve?
Vance breaks his train of thought as an annoyed Rayce subtly signals for him. He shakes hands with the actor and his tag team partner for the week and pulls him inwards so the two are chest to chest and out of ear shot of the paparazzi surrounding them. Vance threateningly hisses in his ear.
Abram Vance: “Don’t try anythin’ stupid, pretty boy.”
Vance allows his glasses to drop, giving Stevie a clear view of his eyes. He continues with the threat, hoping the intense look in his eyes will scare the younger guy.
Abram Vance: “Or ya’ might just regret it.”
Vance smiles slyly, a certain sense of evil lingering behind the gesture, as Starr stares on. The two break the long hand shake and look out into the sea of cameras, posing gleefully to promote their company. Starr fires back out of the corner of his mouth.
Stevie Starr: “Worry about yourself, old man.”
Stevie shoots Vance a cold glare that just screams ‘back the fuck off if you know what’s good for you’. Vance chuckles as Rayce begins to subtly drag the two along towards the interview.
OOC: Permission to use Stevie Starr from Shaun. TBC by Stevie Starr.
