888888ba 88888888b 888888ba 888888ba 88 `8b 88 88 `8b 88 `8b 88 88 a88aaaa a88aaaa8P' a88aaaa8P' 88 88 88 88 `8b. 88 88 .8P 88 88 88 88 8888888P 88888888P dP dP dP ...PROUDLY PRESENTS... @@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@ @@@ @@@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@! @@! !@@ @@! @@@ @@! @@! @@!@!@@@ !@@ !@! !@! !@! !@! @!@ !@! !@! !@!!@!@! !@! @!!!:! !!@ !@! @!@!@ @!@!@!@! @!! !!@ @!@ !!@! !@! @!@!@ !!!!!: !!! !!! !!@!! !!!@!!!! !!! !!! !@! !!! !!! !!@!! !!: !!: :!! !!: !!: !!! !!: !!: !!: !!! :!! !!: :!: :!: :!: !:: :!: !:! :!: :!: :!: !:! :!: !:: :: :: ::: :::: :: ::: :: :: :: :: ::: :::: : : :: :: : : : : : : :: : :: :: : @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@ @@@@@@@ @@@@@@@ @@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@ @@@ @@! @@! @@! @@! @@@ @@! @@@ @@! @@@ !@@ @@! !@! !@! !@! !@! @!@ !@! @!@ !@! @!@ !@! !@ @!! !!@ @!@ @!@ !@! @!@!!@! @!@ !@! !!@@!! @!@ !@! !!! !@! !@! !!! !!@!@! !@! !!! !!@!!! !!! !!: !!: !!: !!: !!! !!: :!! !!: !!! !:! :!: :!: :!: :!: !:! :!: !:! :!: !:! !:! :!: :::: :: ::: ::::: :: :: ::: :::: :: :::: :: :: :: : : : : : : : : : :: : : :: : : ::: APPEARING IN THIS ISSUE: 1 - "All Action" Denny Latimer 2 - Donovan O'Reilly 3 - Ric Beauty 4 - "The Trashman" Tyrone Heat 5 - Casey "The Rengade" Houlihan -- ACE SHOWCASE TALENT 6 - "The Toyko Badbody" Ikuto Nagashima 7 - Marime the Mischevious ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 1 - "ALL ACTION" DENNY LATIMER ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Scene up on what looks like a man sat at a computer in some sort of production office somewhere filmed via webcam. He’s slightly bedraggled, with a widow’s peak and English teeth. Small amount of stubble, broken nose. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and appears to be talking to someone off camera.] MAN: So, what’s this thing called right here? A webcam? And I just talk into it and it’ll record everything I say? This is safe, right? It ain’t gonna steal my credit card details or what have you? Right, right. I dunno, the level of bullshit we put up with in wrestling these days to cut a promo.. [Turns to webcam, flashes a half smile/half-sneer at it.] MAN: Alright lads, let’s get the basics over and done with. The name’s Denny Latimer. "All Action" Denny Latimer. The bio? Every day of my life, from the moment I shot out of my mother’s womb to the very moment I sat down in this chair, I’ve been fighting. And I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. [Stops to grab a can of beer from under the desk. As he cracks it open, a voice from the side starts to say "You can’t drink it." before thinking better of it.] DL: You want some history, a bit of background? Lemme see... I come from a city in England called "Bradford"... Actually, before I get ahead of myselves, let me say one thing. I come over to this country, come over to America, and every single promoter, every single agent, every single... whatever... they say to me the same thing. "You’re English? Where’s the top hat? Where’s the monocle? Why don’t you talk like the butler in Batman?? And you wanna know why I don’t? Because in the town I come from, 30 years ago, you’d go to school at 4, leave at 12, spend the next 50 years of your life stuck down a pit and then you’d die of black lung. If you had any spare time or money, you’d go down the pub, drink 15 pints and get into a tear-up with some for no real reason. A pint and a fight, a great British night. That’s what they used to say. [Takes a swig from his can, hiccups.] Anyway, bit of history for you, then this lass called Margaret Thatcher came and shut the pits down, the stupid cow. So we didn’t have work anymore in Bradford. We didn’t have structure. All we had was a lot of anger and a lot of energy. Lot of the Asian lads turned to Islamic fundamentalism, four of them blew up the tube trains in London. Lot of the white lads turned to nationalism, racism, white supremacy. Couple of lads I went to school with are doing 20 years now for an arson attack on a mosque. Those were the roads laid out for me. [Pauses for a second, lost in thought. Shakes his heads, gets back on with it.] The old man, my dad, God bless him, he saw that I was probably heading down one of those roads. So he sent me to the Snake Pits. And for you lads who haven’t done your reading on the history of British wrestling, the Snake Pits are these training dungeons for dumb young lads who have no hope in life other than a career of fighting. And you go in there, and on day one they break your fucking little finger. And you go away, and you heel, and on your first day back they break your fucking ankle. And you go away, and you heel, and on your first day back they break your fucking pride. And then, and only then, do they start training you. They taught me how to hook, how to punch, how to grapple. How many ways you can bend a man’s arm. How to knock a man out with as little effort as possible. How to knock a man out with as much effort as possible. And so I do my classes, and I graduate, and there I am. Wrestling every night. Up and down every single inch of that fair isle. Glasgow. London. Manchester. Liverpool. Places you guys ain’t ever heard of in America. You ever heard of Didcott? Won a three-way dance there in 2005. You ever heard of King’s Lynn? Won a handicap match, put one of the guys in hospital with a cracked sternum. I’m not an arrogant man but I earned a good living back in the UK. Earned enough to pay for my beer, my gambling slips and a few floozies, put it that way. [Smile.] Anyways, why am I here? Because, you know, I ain’t too keen on things not going my own way. The promoter tells me not to use any chairs tonight? I use a chair. My agent calls me up and tells me don’t swear on the microphone? I curse up a fucking storm, making sure I’m staring any kids in the audience dead in the eye. The mayor of the town’s in the audience? I get my dick out and start helicoptering it at him. Eventually, the word gets out... "Don’t use Denny. He’s dangerous. He’s a liability. He’s trouble." So I come over to America. And I wrestle. And, it’s OK. Make enough to pay for the occasional hotel and that fizzy piss you call beer over here. Spent a few months in the south, thought I had a job for the year there.. place shuts down. Come up to New England, get told there’s work there... Doesn’t materialize. So that’s why I’m in Pittsburgh. This Delaney guy tells me there’s work... well, I’m a worker. I wanna collect a pay check just like everybody else. [Rubs his nose, scratches his chin, pauses for a few seconds before thinking what else to say.] So that’s why I’m here. I dunno, son, I like Pittsburgh so far. Seems like my kinda place, where a guy can get three sheets and have a good old fashioned barney on a street corner. And look at the guys we’ve got in DERP. We’ve got nerds. We’ve got nonces. Cows, chickens, clowns... we’ve got a damn homeless guy. Donovan O’Reillly’s his name. And that’s who I’ve got in my first match here, that’s who I get 5, 10, 15 minutes against to win this DERP crowd over with before they start throwing bottles at me. So I’m prepared, Donovan. Have I watched your tapes? No. Have I done my reading up on you? No. Do I know how to make a 6’6", 282lb brick shithouse tap like Savion fucking Glover? You’re damn sure I do, and you’re about to find out how this coming Friday. [Latimer gets up from his chair and leaves, downing the rest of his can as he does. An unnamed, barely visible guy from the office comes up to the computer and turns the camera off. Cut to black.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 2 - DONOVAN O'REILLY ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ So I've spent the past several days here in Pittsburgh, PA gearing up for the big show... [That gravelly voice? That would belong to one Donovan O'Reily, wrestling's resident bum and perhaps the filthiest grappler you've ever laid eyes on.] Just hanging out, getting blitzed on cheap hooch and doing my sloppy best to avoid the Steel City's notoriously trigger-happy boys in blue. But it's not been all fun and games. See, I've been doing a little research. Everywhere I go, I keep asking the people I run into... "Just who the fuck is Delaney?". [He shrugs his shoulders, clothed as they are in a sleeveless black T-shirt featuring the Black Flag logo. His bared arms wear the collected artwork of the prison system's best tattoo artists, every inch literally covered in rudimentary ink.] Hell, the guy runs a wrestling school in the area and has an entire goddamned promotion named after himself. I figure he should at least be a small-time local celebrity, right? Funny thing is, nobody seems to know a friggen thing about this "Delaney". I mention his name and I'm met with blank stares and an overwhelming sense that the person I'm talking to just wishes I'd go away. [Of course, that's probably due to the fact that Donovan looks completely unhinged. A monstrously thick and full mountain man beard graces his ugly mug. Greasy, reddish-brown hair hangs down into his eyes. And his blue jeans? Well they're infested with holes and stained with crimson.] Delusions of granduer aside, Delaney may as well be a ghost in this town. But name value isn't why I signed on to work for this two-bit circus in the first place. The simple fact is, DERP caught my attention by virtue of its lax ruleset. No DQ and no count-out? Hell, sign me up, son. See, I been throwin' caution to the wind, breaking the law and pissing in the face of authority all my life and I ain't about to get all prim and congenial at this stage of the game. At the rate I'm going, I've got precious few years left in this sport... hell, on this planet. And I intend to make 'em count. It's time to raise some hell and shed some blood! [Seated on a bench on the outskirts of Pittsburgh's Schenley Park, Donovan emphasizes this point by lifting a tall boy of Steel Reserve to his cracked lips, chugging the unholy swill for what seems like forever. Finally finished imbibing, he uses the back of his grimy hand to wipe some stray suds from his beard.] And I intend to do just that on the evening of July 23rd. See, I'll be stepping into the ring for the first time in several years to face one Denny Latimer. [Behind him, picnicing families and sporty folk playing frisbee golf make for quite the stark contrast to O'Reily's seedy presence.] Now, other than the fact that you're a two-time loser from across the pond, Denny, I can't claim to know much about you. Not that it matters. At the end of the day, I don't really care much about your credentials. Hell, you could be the baddest man walking Dog's green Earth for all I care; a bonafide one man army leaving a trail of destruction and tears in your unholy wake. It's not going to change my "preparation" any. [Chug. Finished with his beer, Donovan simply tosses the empty can behind him. It bounces off the others with a clang and he quickly retrieves a fresh one from a 12-pack resting beneath the bench. It cracks open with a refreshing "tschk".] See, here's what I like to do before heading to the ring... I like to get myself a six-pack of cheap swill, a pint of rotgut and a handful of the best pain-numbing pills money can buy. [Guzzle.] And then I like to consume them all in as quick a fashion as possible, ensuring that I don't feel a damn thing while I'm out there doing my whole nihilist death-trip thing. [There's a momentary pause as Donovan stares off into the distance, his eyes narrowing. There's something different in his demeanor when he starts back up. Something slightly off-kilter. Something vaguely sinister. An inherent lack of humanity that just... makes your skin want to crawl.] You see, I been doing this a _long_ time, Denny. A _long_ time. And in that time I've done things you wouldn't believe. I've committed acts so heinus and barbaric that you'd struggle to call me human. [Beat.] Now, I don't intend to rattle off the rap sheet in an attempt to impress you, Denny. Fact is, I don't care whether you take me seriously or not. Simply put, you don't matter. Not in my ring. You're a mere toy; a plaything. [Pulling a pouch of tobacco and pack of wraps from his pocket, Donovan sets about rolling a cigarette as he continues.] They say that I'm a nihilist. That I've got no regard for my own well-being and even less for the poor souls I step into the ring with. [Beat.] And they're right, Denny. I don't care if one or the both of us ends up spending the night in the ICU. I really don't give a damn if you've got a family at home to take care of and I sure as hell wouldn't take it easy on you if you did. A date with me ain't no vacation, son. As far as I'm concerned, it's a death match whether it says so on the marquee or not. If someone's not bleeding or half- crippled at the end of the night, then I'm a failure at my job. And that's been my twisted mindset heading into each and every battle I've ever been in. [Finished rolling the cigarette, Donovan presses it between his lips and lights up.] Now I may be a physical and mental wreck because of said mindset; a prematurely aged young man of 30 years... but you can't do what I do, live the life that I live and come out the other side sound of mind and body. [Puff.] Shit, my knees are busted all to hell, my hip is completely shot, and I've got a shoulder that's got a nasty habit of popping loose at the most inopportune times. I've been boozing, drugging and smoking for more than half my life now and I damn near hack up a lung every morning before breakfast... which more often than not happens to be a nip of scotch. My memory is shit, and my shit is a foul, stinking memory. [Beat.] But you know what? I'll still beat your sorry ass from pillar to post, Denny. And I'll do it... as I always do... On the nails, motherfucker. On the nails! [fade.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 3 - RIC BEAUTY ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [We see a river, it is one of the three that made Pittsburgh. The camera is moving along the river, it rises up and we see Ric Beauty, dressed in jeans and a "24 Hour Man" t-shirt (shirts available for purchase at all DERP shows). Ric is standing at The Point, the place where the three rivers meet, and the place where the city of Pittsburgh was born] RIC BEAUTY: Since joining DERP I have had a lot of people ask me why? Why would the twenty four man come to Pittsburgh? [Ric looks away, and takes in the city for a moment] RIC BEAUTY: I love this city! This is a place I can relate to. Yeah, yeah... I know what some of you are thinking. The Twenty Four Man, from the brights lights of Las Vegas, the man who has worn glitter robes to the ring, he can relate to the city of Pittsburgh? Damn right. For two reasons. One, the people of this city know how to survive and flourish against all types of adversity. The people who built this city came from the harshest places of Eastern Europe. These people know how to get a job done, they roll up their sleeves and do the dirty work, and they go home after a long day and still find time to raise families. Second, this is a city of champions. [Ric looks into the camera] We all know I am a champion. But I am willing to get my hands dirty to get the job done. [Ric laughs, like he knows the hell that awaits him] I know my hands are going to get dirty. First match of DERP. Me, Marime and The Tokyo Bad Boy. This is not going to be easy. And like the people of this city, someone is going to have to survive the twelve hour shift. The heat of the steel mill. The fear of the coal mine. And folks, I am that man. I am the twenty four hour man! [Ric steps toward the camera, his eyes focus in] So give me the clown. Give me the fame whore. And I will give you the greatest the wrestler in the world. [points to self] So Marime, Ikuto. I am ready and so are the fans here in this city, and in this city they accept no phonies, no fakes. They want the real damn thing. Bring your A game boys. I'll bring mine and we'll set off DERP like a freaking bomb! Are you ready to explode? [fade] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 4 - "THE TRASHMAN" TYRONE HEAT ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Fade in on the dilapidated ruins of a modern city. Broken to pieces, the asphalt outside of a line of buildings with boarded up windows and sagging roofs speaks of decades of neglect. Walking amongst this scene of urban disintegration is a lone African American male, wearing a black windbreaker over white A-shirt and track pants, his hair shaved into a reverse mohawk. His serious demeanor and perpetual scowl cause him to exude an air of one who should not be trifled with.] TH: Look at it. Look at all this shit goin' on up in this place. This is where I came up, man, and it was like hell. Some people say it's part of Englewood, others say it's too dirty to even have a name. Ten years ago some punks done busted in the door and roughed up my mama. That shit changes a kid. Up to then I thought about joinin' the gangs, bein' a crip, bein' a blood but seein' my mama in that hospital bed, still cryin' over me. Not 'cause some toad of a crackhead stomped her guts so he could have our old-as-hell TV, man. She was cryin' 'cause she was scared for me and ashamed that my life was bein' spent in a Chi-town slum. Mama didn't have the power to change things ... so I decided I would. [Unzipping his windbreaker, the man removes it to reveal a chiseled torso decorated with kanji both tattooed and cauterized so that it's raised on his skin. Looking back at the nearest building, he shakes his head slightly.] TH: That back there's the place I used to live. It was a piece of shit then and now ... the gov'ment's got it condemned. There's people livin' inside, cookin' up stuff that'll kill kids and make men crazy. Back when this neighborhood still had a few good people in it, I faced down my demons in one of the punks that roughed up my mama. He didn't know that I took three years of my life makin' myself a badass. What I did to him left him a shell, got me hailed as a hero and got me enough respect that nobody ever called me out again. [Walking slowly away from his childhood home, his eyes flash with sadness, then harden again.] TH: Cops took me from my home that day, my mama cryin' out her heart 'cause I broke a promise and fought a man. Sirens blarin', that man got hauled off to the hospital while I went to the precinct! Those men may have arrested me but as we drove they made it clear that they _knew_ I was a _hero_. [Gesturing with his jacket, Tyrone sweeps his hand to indicate the neighborhood around him before dramatically slinging it over one shoulder.] TH: This right here, this my _roots_. Ain't no man come out of this can't take care of himself. I trained, I went to college, I took my mama and I made for the hills. I made my money and now ... it's time to fight again. "The Trashman" Tyrone Heat is comin', punks, and the world ain't never gonna be the same! [Beat. Cut!] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 5 - CASEY "THE RENEGADE" HOULIHAN ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Camera fades in... showing the world a simple wrestling ring. Black ropes, gold turnbuckle pads, _empty_ arena, except for person inside the ring, sitting on the top turnbuckle in one corner, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, is Casey "the Renegade" Houlihan! Casey just a had big grin on her face, as the camera films her and Delaney's converstation.] CASEY: So.. Sophia.. you excited? That blood pumping a bit faster, yer heart skipping a beat here 'n' there? I bet... just for different reason, though I suppose.. [nods.] CASEY: See, my butterflies are fluttering cause this here old warahouse... It wasn't _always_ the DERP Arena. When Delaney first had it, this place was DART~!, Delaney's wrestling school. He had rooms to crash in, rooms to chill in and rooms to work out in. He did all he good to provide _EVERYTHING_ for us students taht were willing to learn. And damn... Damn did I learn. So that's my butterflies are there, Sophia... Cause this my _homecoming_! I was born and raised in Pittsburgh, and trained right here under this metallic roof. This is where I first started taking bumps... throwing hip tosses... Just learning the god damn sport, ya know? And, on July 22nd, I get to show the entire DERP Audience exactly what I've learned! [Hops down off the turnbuckles, electing to stretch out on the ropes a bit.] CASEY: But you, Sophia... I bet dem butterlfies are flapping away for a different reason. I bet that heart beats faster, even just a bit... all because your _scared_ of what's in store. Sure,y ou were a good sport about things. Really to travel outta the Garden State to the City fo Champions, helping disaply the _awesomeness_ that is ACE. But now... Now I wonder if you ain't thinking twice about it all. [Smiles, as she back on the ropes.] CASEY: Cause, you rmeember what happened that last time we entered the ring together. You felt the heat from the flaming table as you crashed through it I'm sure. And that wasn't even a _TABLES_ match like this one! Meaning... You really are in for a long night, eh Sophia? [Laughter.] CASEY: But that's the business! That's how it works! We are here Sophia, representing ACE, trying to showcase to the world exactly what woman's wreslting _CAN_ be. It doesnt' gotta be a beauty contest. It doesn't got involve screeeching and sceaming by dumb blondes. It can be just as violent as any men's match out there! [Nods.] CASEY: And tonight, Sophia, I will prove that fact by once again putting you through a table. Only after I've beaten you from pillar to post, of course. I wouldn't have it any other way! [Chuckle.] CASEY: See ya in the ring, Sophia. Train hard, take your vitamins and say your prayers... Yer gunna need all the help you can get! [Fade.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 6 - "THE TOYKO BAD BOY" IKUTO NAGASHIMA ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Fade in.] [We find ourselves on the streets of Pittsburgh , the camera focusing in on a sleek, black limousine as it makes its way through traffic. Finally, we fade inside of the back of the limo, where a handsome, tanned gentleman sits. He’s clad in a fitted, pink and green, striped polo shirt and floral print slacks. He also wears a pair of black, platform boots, shades shielding his eyes. His fair is dyed a shocking platinum and styled in a fauxhawk, his fingers adorned with gold rings.] [Ladies and gentlemen, meet the fabulousness known as “Tokyo Bad Boy” Ikuto Nagashima.] [The young man leans back, one foot propped up on the backseat and open champagne bottle in hand, a smirk etched on his flawless face.] Ikuto: Is this the best that DERP can offer me? A washed-up, old hag and a weirdo circus freak?!? [He chuckles and takes a deep swig of champagne before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.] Ikuto: Then, it will not be long before I’m running this place, much like I did in RCW! You see, there are few talents that can compare to mine. I learned at the feet of Shadoe Rage, a true legend in this industry. And I have been heralded as the future star of this new generation. [He makes a sweeping gesture with his free hand and bows slightly, a mocking smile on his lips.] Ikuto: I’ve spent years, wrestling and beating the best that this country and my home have had to offer. Yet Ryan Delaney expects that a has-been and never-will- be are good enough to finally offer me some _proper_ competition? [smirks] You’ll forgive me if I begin my victory celebration early. [He lifts his bottle in the air.] Ikuto: Because I sincerely doubt it! Just look at them. The only thing interesting about Beauty is his ill-fitting last name. He’s a relic. [he waves his hand dismissively and sighs] Plain and simple. And he should have been put aside long ago. Fortunately, I’m more than willing to make that a reality. And the other one, the weirdo freak? [He frowns in disgust, waving his hand again.] Ikuto: Doesn’t even belong anywhere near a ring! He’s a joke, complete and utter trash! He should be in a cage somewhere, getting poked with a stick, not standing across the ring from DERP’s standard! [He sniffs, turning up his nose.] Ikuto: Whatever, bitches. He will see that for himself very soon, when I leave him and Beauty just as I’ve left all of the rest. And you can quote me on that! Because I came to DERP to continue my legacy and prove myself as the greatest professional that this sport has seen or ever will see. And if I have to start off by humiliating and destroying two undeserving fools? [the smirk returns and he shrugs] So be it. Whoever said I couldn’t also have a little fun along the way? [He lets out another chuckle and takes another swig as the vehcile stops and we suddenly hear the faint sound of dance music.] Driver: We’re here, Mr. Nagashima! [Ikuto raises his bottle with a giggle.] Ikuto: Excellent! These Pittsburgh hoes ain’t seen nothing yet! [Fade out.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 7 - MARIME THE MISCHEVIOUS ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Pitch black then a stage light comes to life, blinding the camera lense. Ludovico Einaudi's I Campi di Contone II (Titoli di Coda) gently plays as a slow pan downward begins.] V/O: Let me tell you a story... [Cult favorite: Marime the Mischevious's soothing voice washes over the listeners. The voice is lilting, enuciation perfect but there is an air of weariness that puncutates each syllable and punctures each word, no matter how energetic they sound.] V/O: There once was a boy that nobody wanted. His mother was so distaught over his birth that she soon departed; this mortal coil for a place in heaven above. Or was it a cave below that housed her soul after giving birth to the love of her betrothed? [Gentle piano notes and woodwinds waft in the air.] V/O: The husband to be wept over his loss and cursed his burden, his own living cross. To bear this boy over the years would eat away at his being. A boy born under a bad sign, a boy that would send other children to the hills. [The light is surrounded by more nothing.] V/O: A bad sign, they said. The boy's emiciated appearance filled his would be loves with dread. They would hestitate and flee when young Marime would titter and laugh. The taunts and curses would later serve the boy at last. [Dust swirls in that white funnel of illumination.] V/O: Marime, do not cry. Marime, do not be scared. I will be back for you the frustrated father said. The papa had no intention of returning for his son; the boy born under a bad sign's road had yet to be spun - in front of him like a spider's web. The boy saw a trap as bright and colorful as any. A circus! A circus! Enticing and filled with noises, oh so many! [Those horns of hair are the first bit of Marime that we get to see.] V/O: Through the years Marime understood that being under a bad sign is nothing to scorn. Through discipline and punishment this, did the boy learn. Tumbling and mime, ventriloquism and rhyme - all learned thanks to that awful, naughty, no good time - with the circus he did this and more. Then into the ring he went, with lights and noise galore! [His bare shoulders, upper back and chest are tattooed black while the rest of his arms and body were painstakingly done as white as possible. Marime's twin hamsa ward off the evil eye but this small man is much larger than his size.] Marime: The time to perform is at hand again! Let the celebration commence, let the master of ceremonies command! A grand armada of talent and rich sea of blood! Rejoice, dear friends, rejoice. Out of the cloister of delights and into the world at large. I return! Though hungry and tired, observe: I shall entertain and dismember. For all of this, the carnage and bodies soaked in crimson, are served for you. [The light shuts off.] For Joshua Black and Sophia Reynolds... if you get yerself stuff in by tonight, I'll add ya work to this packet.... ______________________________________________________ THOUGHTS? REACTIONS? SPEAK YOUR MIND RIGHT HERE: http://z13.invisionfree.com/DERP_Forum/index.php?showforum=4