Riot Act Number One Contendership: Heath Venomous vs. Abram Vance

[Chris Dresdon]

The scene opens with Heath Venomous located outside the cemetary gates, sitting on the ground with his back to the gate, his right arm extended as he holds the slender bottom of a wine glass between his fingers and sloshes the contents around in a circle, an act seemingly being performed to suppress rage. The liquid contained in the glass appears to be blood, as Heath doesn't even look at it, but past it instead, his sunglasses worn on his face as he looks out into the streets of the nearby neighborhood. The camera shoots him from the right side, as if it were being filmed by someone sitting beside him. Heath begins to speak.

Heath Venomous: Prosperity. A successful, flourishing, or thriving condition, especially in financial respects. That is what I have achieved thus far, prosperity. In a financial respect yes, but I don't require money like you mortals do, the fact that my life has no end and I will never be without it means my happiness or quality of life is not defined by currency. Even though you are already bound by time and your own mortality, you foolishly worship this object of your greed, adding a third master to the pack that already commands you, making your enslavement all the more miserable for you and all the more enjoyable for me. That is the state of prosperity I have arrived at, reaping the things you lose in defeat and claiming them as reward for my victory, victory you ignorantly measure in wins and losses. If you could see the bigger picture that I see, you would not measure it this way.

Heath rises to his feet and begins to walk forward, still holding the glass and turning it circularly in his hold, sloshing the contents about. He watches the ground as he walks, the sunglasses still on his face.

Imagine if you will that you are in competition with some friends. You are standing along the bank of a river and each of you throw a rock, with your overall goal being not to be the one that throws it the farthest, but to show that you have a strong throw. Well, you throw your rock further than a few of them, but are surpassed by the distance of others. However, they all notice the strength of your throw, therefore, you have succeeded in meeting your goal. Even though some of your friends defeated you in the competition, you have still won. I liken that to my ACW career. Even though I have a no contest and two losses on my record, I am still flourishing, I am still successful, I am still...in thriving condition. I will validate my point with examples from my own perspective as well as your human system of merit. Though defeated in the past, I am still victorious because here I am another week, still showing up to compete, still inspiring fear, and still inflicting pain. That, to me, equates to success.

On your scale, my point is validated by the fact that this upcoming contest that I am scheduled to participate in is to crown the next contender to the ACW International Championship, the same contendership that was up for grabs in the Battle Royal that was won by Nicky Trix, and the same championship that Nicky Trix will be competing for on the same night at the same event, Riot Act. The final two men eliminated from that battle royal now find themselves competing again, in a one-on-one encounter, for the same prize that went to war for with eight other superstars. It's only fitting if you ask me, and it is the strongest evidence you need that not only is my star on the rise despite my shortcomings, but that my star is one that cannot be halted. My bloodlust will continue until I have bled every contracted athlete dry, and my appetite for this blood will not be satiated until that task is complete.

Heath stops in place, removing the sunglasses from his face with his left hand, pushing the sunglasses from over his eyes up to the top of his head. As he continues with what he's saying, a slight increase in intensity can be sensed in his inflection.

Henri Calvash and Billy Young, men I eliminated from the battle royal, are now gone. Alex Styles, the man I brought unconscious from the backstage several weeks ago, a man that remained unconscious for the entire triple threat between he, Andrew Sanders, and I, is now gone. Zasalamel, a man that tried to dispose of me on my first night in the company, the man I nearly eliminated from the battle royal, is also...no longer...here. You are next in line, Abram, and if you do not meet the same fate as they, I promise you that you will meet a similar one. Because, you see, you and I have different mindsets going into this contest, we want different things out of this event.

You distract yourself with cancerous and liver damaging addictions, and the only driving force behind you even showing up to do your job seems to be the paycheck. You are the embodiment of what I spoke of earlier, a foolish human that has allowed something perishable become his master. You want to become the man that will challenge for the International Championship because doing so and becoming the champion would result in a larger paycheck, but to do that you must go through me, something that will be near impossible for you to do. Under normal conditions, I already exceed you in dexterity, endurance, flexibility, stamina, strength, and strategy. My senses are sharper and more heightened than yours, I can do things you simply cannot do. Why are all these things true? Because you and I are not the same.

But when you factor in your state of apathy, the difference is greater, and I exceed you on a much greater scale than I do when you're in top form. In addition, I am not focused on winning contenderships or championship belts, the only thing beneficial about that is it would bring me more victims at a quicker rate. So if I win the contendership and later the belt, I will enjoy the perks that come with it and capitalize on the situation as it pertains to my mission. If I lose and do not claim the championship, I will press on, as there is more than one way to overall completion. Bearing all this in mind, realize that your participation in this match is an act of suicide. Should you go through with this, you'd be wise to eulogize yourself under your breath while the match is going on, because that's the only chance Abram Vance will get at one!

Heath throws the glass to the ground, it shattering on impact and the contents shattering, some splattering on the toe of his left boot. Heath is visibly more intense as he points at the camera with the hand that was just holding the glass.

There will be nothing left of you to place inside a casket or a furnace, whichever is your preferred treatment of your corpse post-expiration, I will see to that. What the coroners will recount of what was done to you will mortify all who hear it to the point that there will be no memorial service, there will be no obituary, there will be no grave, and none of these people will spend a moment of their time mourning, not a single tear will be shed. Not because you lack friends and loved ones, but because they're afraid that if they show grief, I will sense their attachment to you, and dispose of them as well, as a means to torture you eternally once you cross to the other side!

Heath turns and walks back over to the gate, sitting back down and pushing his sunglasses back on his face. The camera returns to shooting him as if someone were sitting right beside him as Heath looks out into the neighborhood streets again. His inflection returns to what it was before, as he has eerily resumed his calm state as if he never departed from it.

I am unlike anything you have ever, and will ever, encounter, Abram. I have no remorse, I have no compassion, because, and I repeat this for all who have yet to grasp the gravity of the situation, I belong to a different breed. I am the subject matter of legend, the topic of myth, the reason that fear itself exists. I do not love, I do not sparkle, I do not feel anything for you humans but pity and disgust. None of the things that have done the other vampires in affect me in a harmful way, because I have learned from their mistakes, and I have adapted to it. I am not coming to Riot Act to wrestle, and I will not be there to fight. I am coming...to feast.

The camera pans out as Heath stands up again, beginning to walk towards the neighborhood he has so intently been watching.​

 

[The_King]

Abram Vance: Roleplay #1 of 4
Mind Games (Part 4) [Untelevised & Televised (Televised between blue lines)]

Vance sits in the dim locker room of the Mayfield Community Center. The lights above him flicker on and off spontaneously, a sign of the building’s decaying state. The room naturally stinks of sweat and alcohol. Vance removes his wrestling boot and drops it in his bag, seemingly preparing for an exit. Through a window just overhead, the black sky and full moon can be seen the distance, suggesting a late exit for Vance. He slips his jean jacket from the athletic bag at his feet and begins to force his right arm into the sleeve as noises sound from behind the door at the opposite end of the locker room. Vance turns his attention to them as a familiar sight bursts through the door, flanked by a camera crew and a young woman clutching a microphone. He immediately recognizes his nemesis, Beki Rayce, as she saunters towards him donning her usual professional, disingenuous smile. She immediately breaks into false pleasantries in an attempt to soothe a clearly frustrated Vance.

Beki Rayce: “How are you…”

Vance cuts her off and barks angrily in response.

Abram Vance: “What do ya’ want?”

Rayce smiles innocently, clearly attempting to further inflame Vance. She clutches her clipboard closer to her chest and leans forward, whispering condescendingly.

Beki Rayce: “Member’ that interview last week?”

Vance begins to reply, but she continues in the condescending tone in a clear power move.

Beki Rayce: “Ya’ know, where ya’ spoiled your match?”

Rayce cocks her head to the side and smiles innocently, continuing to goad Vance into exploding. After a silent moment, Vance nods, and she nods her head approvingly before adopting a more serious tone.

Beki Rayce: “Well, as punishment, management has green lighted a media tour for you! Starting with an online interview you’re recording tonight.”

Vance smiles at Rayce’s threat, obviously not taking it seriously. He reaches down and zips up his athletic bag as Beki signals the camera crew to set up their equipment. He quickly tosses the bag over his shoulder and stands. Rayce turns her attention towards him and is rudely greeted by him bumping into her. She stumbles back towards the lockers and bumps into the hard steel as he limps towards the doors. Rayce quickly shouts at him, cutting off his exit.

Beki Rayce: “Where ya’ going?”

Vance responds immediately.

Vance: “I’ve got plans.”

Rayce fires back sarcastically, crossing her arms on her chest defensively.

Beki Rayce: “Really?”

Vance mutters back sarcastically.

Vance: “Yeah, the bartender across the way asked me to stop in and test the durability of his bar stools.”

Before she can even respond, Vance pushes the locker room door open and begins to slip out into the hallway, looking for a nearby exit. A visibly nervous Rayce calmly continues.

Beki Rayce: “Thought you’d walk.”

Vance pauses in the door frame, clearly disgruntled that Rayce predicted his actions. His foot catches the swinging door, leaving it slightly ajar, as she breaks into the same calm tone.

Beki Rayce: “That’s why management agreed to cut your pay in half if you did.”

A sly smile crosses Rayce’s faces as she prepares for Vance, knowing that he only wrestles for money and fame, to turn around and beg for forgiveness like a child. As expected, he tosses his bag to the side and walk back into the room, plopping messily into the seat the camera crew has arranged for him. Rayce nods towards the female interviewer who properly sits down in the chair across from Vance. Beki takes her position next to the camera crew, avoiding participating in the interview after her last experience. The interview, ACW’s Lisa Courier, attempts to delve into polite conversation despite her last confrontation with Vance.

Lisa Courier: “How long has it been?”

Vance growls back, rudely.

Vance: “Not long enough.”

Lisa Courier: “I see you haven’t changed.”

Courier flips her hair dramatically and attempts to ignore Vance as she slips a make-up kit from her pocket. She opens it and begins to dab her face, keeping tabs in the small mirror on the kit. Vance responds sarcastically while obviously staring at her chest.

Vance: “You have.”

Courier cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrow inquisitively. He smiles, clearly enjoying the genuine reaction, and continues.

Vance: “Breast reduction surgery or am I just less drunk this time?”

One of the camera men can be heard giggling as Courier’s jaw drops in anger and shock. She shoots Rayce a look, and Beki responds by shaking her head in disgust at Vance’s comment. As the camera man finish up their preparation, she snaps at Vance, attempting to scold him, and breaks into a fast, professional tone, whispering in his ear.

Beki Rayce: “I convinced them to let you shoot cuz’ your best that way. Say whatever the hell you want.”

Rayce places her hand on his shoulder and rubs it gently, attempting to comfort and possibly gain his trust. Vance stares on, clearly distrusting her, as red recording light turns on. Rayce gives a quick three second count down before Courier breaks into her typical introduction.

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Lisa Courier: “This is Lisa Courier with ACW superstar Abram Vance bringing you an exclusive interview with the Indy legend! How are you doing today, Vance?”

Vance stares at Rayce unenthusiastically, and she gestures for him to answer. He responds angrily.

Vance: “It’s about midnight, and I’m still sober. So, yeah, not great.”

Courier, clearly experienced from her last interview with him, doesn’t let the answer bother her and pushes forward with the interview.

Lisa Courier: “It’s been announced that you’re facing Heath Venomous in a number one contender’s match for the International Championship at Riot Act. Your thoughts?”

Vance pauses and pretends that he doesn’t recognize the name. He responds inquisitively.

Vance: “The vampire guy?”

Courier nods and gestures for him to continue. He flicks his head to the side, attempting to appear jilted, and responds angrily.

Vance: “Management must hate me.”

Vance stares at Courier, waiting for her to take the bait, but the professional bites her tongue and switches subjects, attempting to avoid Vance’s push to discuss management.

Lisa Courier: “Well, in his last promo, he suggested that you’re only working here for the paycheck. Is that true?”

Vance responds immediately and bluntly.

Vance: “Yup.”

Courier stares at him dumbfounded as he stops his answer there. She looks at Rayce who shrugs her shoulders in frustration and gestures to Courier to continue.

Lisa Courier: “And his allegation that you only want the International belt for the ‘larger paycheck’?”

A maniacal smile crosses his face as he prepares a response that will definitely anger management. He immediately blurts it out before Courier can retract the question.

Vance: “That and the pussy that comes with being champ.”

A visibly frustrated Courier drops the microphone to her lap, and Vance smiles, receiving the reaction he’s been waiting for. She notices the smile and shakes off her frustration, continuing to fire off questions.

Lisa Courier: “He also claimed that he exceeds you in ‘dexterity, endurance, flexibility, stamina, strength, and strategy’. Concerned at all?”

Vance giggles at the question and responds unenthusiastically, clearly not taking his competitor’s claim seriously.

Vance: “You see his record?”

A desperate Courier pushes the microphone closer towards his face, hoping to extract a longer answer, but Vance refuses. She bites her tongue and frustratingly spits out her last question.

Lisa Courier: “A little worried that Venomous said he intends to ‘feast’ on you?”

Vance chuckles lightly and looks down at his arms, observing them as if he could see the blood pumping through his veins. He slips an already open flask out of his jean jacket inner pocket and takes a quick swig. He shakes off the bitter taste and respond.

Vance: “Hope he likes Jack’.”

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Rayce signals for the cameras to stop recording, clearly content with the content she got. Courier stands from her seat and rolls her eyes at Vance, disgruntled yet again by working with him. She immediately exits the room, and Rayce signals for the camera crew to follow her out. They scurry towards the exit as Vance reaches down to scoop up his athletic bag. He mumbles:

Vance: “That’s all your gettin’, Rayce.”

Rayce laughs at the statement and responds condescendingly, attempting to bait Vance once again.

Beki Rayce: “Thought you’d say that.”

Vance takes the bait and releases his hold on the bag. He turns towards Rayce and walks up to her. He crosses his arms on his chest and stares down at her, looking for answers. A wicked smile crosses her face as she mockingly exclaims:

Beki Rayce: “I can’t believe you fell for that!”

Rayce motions towards the interview chairs still set up in the center of the locker room as Vance stares confused. She continues in her normal condescending tone.

Beki Rayce: “You actually thought management would let you shoot?”

Vance immediately rotates his head back and forth and bites down hard on his tongue in frustration. He begins to pace in circles, attempting to control his temper, as Rayce continues to chastise him while simultaneously laughing at his stupidity.

Beki Rayce: “Once they see that, you can guarantee that your job will be on the line if you don’t cooperate. And even better, you’ll have to answer to ME!.”

As she says ‘me’, her face lights up, clearly excited by the prospect of power over her former lover. The much shorter Rayce seductively saunters towards Vance, flashing him a mocking smile. She runs her finger down his lip and chest while staring directly into his eyes. She whispers seductively, attempting to set him off yet again.

Beki Rayce: “Just how I like it.”

A frustrated Vance snatches up his bag, but Rayce grabs his arm. She gestures him to open his palm and places a small card in it. He looks down it and notices that it’s an address to a nearby cemetery with instructions to arrive for a promo on a specified time and date. He shrugs her off and crumples the card in his hand as he heads towards the exits. She continues to mock him in her usual calm, condescending tone.

Beki Rayce: “Haven’t you learned?”

Vance grits his teeth, clearly angry that she has flipped the tables on him. He begrudgingly responds, just as Rayce did last week after the controversial interview.

Vance: “Learned what?”

Rayce smiles and giggles almost inaudibly as Vance lingers in the doorway, waiting for her response. She rotates her head dramatically, flipping her hair in the process, and responds with attitude.

Beki Rayce: “You’re not the only one whose good at mind games, Abe.”

~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE*~*~*~*~*~

 

[The_King]

Abram Vance: Roleplay #2 of 4
Mind Games (Part 5) [Untelevised & Televised]

An irate Beki Rayce stands on a mound of dirt. A camera crew readies their equipment beside her as she shoots frequent glances at her watch. An older man, dressed in a disheveled, black suit and donning an old top hat, leans against a nearby gravestone. He fidgets with his hands, clearly impatient, as Rayce slips a cell phone from her pocket and begins to smack the buttons angrily. After a minute, she tosses the phone to the side, angered by Vance’s lateness, and stares at the road leading to the grave site. In the distance, two dim headlights pierce the darkness of the night as a large truck slowly approaches the grave site. Rayce stares on dumbfounded, attempting to figure out why the hell Vance is in a truck. The driver stops just in front of the sight, and Vance gives him a fist bump before jumping out the passenger door. He makes away around the front of the truck towards the site, carrying a case of Bud Light in his right hand and a dog leash in his left. Rayce looks on in complete awe and yells out in disgust, pointing at him as the truck takes off.

Beki Rayce: “What is that?”

Vance smiles and looks down at the contents of both of his hands. He responds sarcastically.

Vance: “My beer.”

Rayce throws her hands down in frustration, letting her clipboard dangle at her side, and kicks the dirt. She shoots back and points to the now visible dog attached to the leash.

Beki Rayce: “No, THAT!”

Vance looks down at the dog as he slowly scales Rayce’s mound. He drops the case of beer at her feet and responds calmly, as if explaining an obvious fact to a child.

Vance: “That’s a dog, Beki.”

Rayce shoves Vance lightly, attempting to get his attention, as he drops down to open the case of beer. She yells out, demanding answers, while the crew behind her enjoys the confrontation.

Beki Rayce: “Who’s dog?”

Vance responds quickly.

Vance: “Ours.”

Rayce eyes nearly bug out of her socket. She immediately shakes her head in denial and spits out.

Beki Rayce: “I don’t think so.”

As Rayce turns towards the crew and signals for the older man, Vance shrugs his shoulders and responds in a subtly threatening tone.

Vance: “Guess, it’ll be in my promos and matches then.”

Rayce shifts her attention back to Vance, and the two engage in a brief stare. Rayce ignores the threat, believing it to be nothing more than a bluff, and turns back towards the older man. Vance, refusing to let his little stunt die that easily, continues in a dry, sarcastic tone.

Vance: “Management would LOVE that.”

An angry Rayce shoots him a look of disgust before grabbing hold of the leash. She pulls the dog towards her, causing a cruel, satisfied smile to creep onto Vance’s face. The older man approaches from behind as Rayce continues with her interrogation.

Beki Rayce: “And the truck?”

Vance furrows his brow, attempting to annoy Rayce, but when she refuses to give him his reaction, he spits out.

Vance: “Needed a ride.”

A confused Rayce fires back.

Beki Rayce: “Ever heard of a taxi?”

Vance chuckles and mumbles sarcastically.

Vance: “Never heard of a free one.”

Rayce stares at Vance, completely irate, for a moment. The tense moment is broken by the dog crying at her feet. When she turns her attention to the dog, Vance slyly slips a beer bottle from the case, and by the time she turns to face him, he’s popping the cap off with his teeth. Rayce shakes her in disbelief as Vance spits out the cap. The actor arrives at her heels as she forces a few papers into Vance’s hand. Before he has a chance to even look at them, Rayce breaks into instructions for the promo.

Beki Rayce: “Kay, management wants a comedy promo on ‘How to Slay a Vampire’ to hype up your match with Heath. This is Ludwig…”

Vance bursts out laughing at the older man’s name and mockingly questions.

Vance: “Ludwig?”

Rayce dissolves into a brief fit of laughter as Ludwig blushes out of embarrassment. She composes herself and returns to her professional tone while simultaneously chastising Vance for insulting Ludwig.

Beki Rayce: “Yeah, Ludwig. He’s playing the role of a vampire slayer that’s going to ‘teach’ you how to beat Venomous.”

Even Rayce raises an eyebrow at the garbage that the writers came up with, but nevertheless, she continues in a harsher tone.

Beki Rayce: “You’re under orders not to shoot AT ALL….”

Vance cuts her off and confidently butts in.

Vance: “And when I do?”

Rayce responds threateningly, flexing her power over Vance.

Beki Rayce: “IF you do, I’ve been given authority to future endeavor you on the spot.”

She flashes a cruel smile that just screams ‘try it’, but Vance keeps his cool and points to the paper while furrowing his brow in confusion.

Beki Rayce: “It’s the script. Just improvise though cuz’ it’s garbage.”

She gestures for Vance to head over to the camera area where Ludwig is reading over his script one last time. Vance crumbles up his and tosses it behind him as Rayce walks over to the camera crew, dragging Vance’s new dog behind her begrudgingly. Vance slips a small, square device out of his pocket and closes his fist, concealing it. As he approaches Ludwig, the man attempts to engage in polite conversation.

Ludwig: “Don’t worry, I’ve had a few supporting roles at the local theatre!”

Vance looks at him, clearly amused, and shouts to Rayce sarcastically.

Vance: “Local theatre, eh? They gotta' real professional for this.”

Ludwig drops his head in shame as the camera breaks into light laughter. Rayce chastises the crew while Vance signals for a beer. The boom stick guy tosses him a fresh bottle of Bud’, and Vance signals for the promo to start.

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As a camera hand places a black paper with the words ‘How to Slay a Vampire’ in the camera’s view, Vance quickly slips his sun glasses from his jean jacket pocket and puts them on quickly. Rayce gives the count down, and as she hits one, Vance breaks into a ridiculously over-the-top sarcastic tone, clearly trying to bait Rayce.

Vance: “Just got word that I’ve got Count Chocula this week, and I’m terrified to face a REAL vampire.”

Vance takes a swig of Bud’ and continues in the overly sarcastic tone.

Vance: “As a person who takes my job VERY seriously, I asked, (Vance pauses and laughs briefly before continuing) and I quote, ‘professional vampire slayer’ Ludwig to teach me how to 'slay a vampire'.”

Ludwig opens his mouth to start his monologue, but Vance interrupts in a dry tone.

Vance: “You heard me right. The guy’s name is Ludwig.”

He rolls his eyes, clearly trying to draw a reaction from the future viewer’s, as Ludwig draws a vial of clear liquid from his suit coat.

Ludwig: “The most important thing to know about vampires is that they are evil. Some, might even say demonic…”

Vance presses the device clutched in his hand, and his dog, out of camera’s view, immediately starts barking ferociously. He smiles wickedly as Rayce scurries to shut the dog up and signals for Ludwig to continue, shooting a cold, warning glare in Vance’s direction.

Ludwig: “Due to their allegiance to the devil, their skin is vulnerable to blessed Holy Water. Just one drop of it can cause a pain SO intense that even the devil himself would beg for mercy.”

Vance snatches the vial out of Ludwig’s hand, catching him off guard, and twists off the cap. He quickly tosses the Holy Water into his mouth, swishes it around, hunches forward, and spits it all over Ludwig’s dirtied dress shoes and pants. The man leaps back, failing to avoid the water, as Vance proclaims bluntly.

Vance: “Tastes like shit.”

Ludwig shoots a confused glance in Rayce’s direction, and she flashes two fingers back at him. He adopts a creepy tone, attempting to set a mood appropriate for the promo despite Vance’s sabotage.

Ludwig: “Another way to protect yourself from the creatures of the night…”

Vance rolls his eyes at the dramatic way Ludwig pronounces ‘creatures of the night’. The oblivious Ludwig removes a necklace from around his neck and shoves it into the view of the camera. As the camera zooms in on it, it becomes clear that the necklace is made of tiny garlic cloves.

Ludwig: ”…is garlic. Garlic is a powerful antiseptic that is effective in killing germs. Vampires are the ultimate germ, spreading their horrific disease to their victims like a plague. Thus, my ancestors have always donned these garlic necklaces to protect us from the creatures since the slightest contact with garlic can send a vampire to their grave for eternity!”

As Ludwig finishes his dramatic speech, a repetitive tinkling sound can be heard from the camera area. The same wicked smile creeps back on Vance’s face as he sees the dog peeing on Rayce’s legs. Beki, feeling the wetness, looks down at her foot and clutches her fists in frustration. Vance defends himself with an apparent air of false innocence.

Vance: “Did I forgot to mention that the mut, may (emphasizing the word), have a… slight bladder problem.”

Rayce begins to breathe heavily, fuming on the inside, and shoots Vance a glare of pure spite. Vance shrugs his shoulders and relents sarcastically.

Vance: “Well, it maybe more than a slight problem…”

Rayce throws up a hand, ignoring Vance’s defense, and signals for Ludwig to wrap up the promo. Ludwig hunches over like a hunchback and limps toward a coffin leaning on a decaying grave stone, attempting to appear like a deformed creature. An unimpressed Vance follows closely behind while simultaneously popping the cap off his beer with his teeth. Ludwig opens the coffin, revealing a life-size Venomous doll in the coffin. He extracts a small, wooden stake from inside his suit coat and delves into his final speech.

Ludwig: “The most effective way to slay a vampire is a stake through the heart. Only when pierced by a stake will a vampire’s heart be drained of the PURE EVIL within allowing the creature to be sent tunneling back into the depths of HELL!”

He quickly shifts the position of the stake in his hand and locks his eyes on the doll Venomous’ heart. Before he lunges forward, he offers Vance the stake who responds sarcastically.

Vance: “You’re the professional, here.”

Ludwig smiles a sadistic smile and drives the stake where Venomous’ heart would be. Fake blood spurts from the wound as Ludwig falls to his knees and looks to the skies, seemingly praying. Rayce begins to give the signal to stop recording when Vance raises a finger, asking for a minute. Ludwig continues to pray as Vance spills his remaining beer on the doll’s chest. He withdraws a lighter from his jean jack, flicks it on, and tosses it on the doll. The bloodied, stabbed doll immediately catches fire as Vance reaches down and places his hand on Ludwig’s back. He whispers into his ear calmly as a wicked smile creeps onto his face.

Vance: “Thanks for the help, but I think I’ll just set him on fire.”

A shocked Ludwig, caught off guard by Vance’s stray from the script, looks up with his eyes bugging out and his mouth ajar. Vance asks sarcastically with a cheeky grin on his face.

Vance: “Think that’ll do the trick?”

Ludwig remains on his knees, his shock preventing him from responding allowing him to play his role oddly perfectly. Vance walks off camera, and the cameras take a final shot of the coffin slowly burning into ash before cutting. Rayce immediately begins to bark orders.

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Beki Rayce: “Someone get that fire extinguisher from the truck.”

Vance approaches Rayce from behind and asks Rayce sarcastically, hoping to get a reaction from her.

Vance: “Like it?”

A huge smile crosses Vance’s face as he anxiously waits for her hateful glare and lecture, but he is instead greeted by a seemingly genuine smile. She responds enthusiastically.

Beki Rayce: “Loved it!”

Vance furrows his brow in confusion, not expecting the positivity. He stands silent for a moment, not sure what to do next, before snatching the leash from Rayce and turning his back to her, preparing to exit. Realizing that her reaction stumped him, she pushes on with the positivity.

Beki Rayce: “And if you need any help with that cute dog, gimme’ a call.”

He shoots a look of pure shock back at her, trying to detect sarcasm or a mocking facial expression, but finds nothing. Dissatisfied, he grabs his case of beer and starts to walk down the street he came in on, dragging the dog closely behind. A smug Rayce screams out after him, trying to further infuriate him.

Beki Rayce: “Don’t forget your autograph signing, Abe!”

Oh, I WON’T forget.
I’ll be there, and the bitch betta' be ready.​

~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE*~*~*~*~*~