Post by Joshua Samson, ESQ on Nov 4, 2016 22:39:07 GMT -6
*CLANG*
The crashing sound of metal preceded the sight of the folding metal chair crashing into the wall. That was quickly followed by the entrance of the bloodied Calloway brothers known as The Heathens.
Dexter: GODDAMN! MOTHERFUCKA!
Behind Eric and Dexter walked in Joshua Samson, Esq. With a huge smile upon his face, the executive representative scanned the empty locker room.
Samson: What's the problem, guys? Things went beautifully out there if I say so myself.
Eric: What's the problem? WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?! The problem is those stanking ass Southern Xchange! Them sissy boys have got to fucking die, Samson. You hear me, Samson? DIE!
Arms folded across his chest, Samson leans against the wall. Dexter meanwhile kicks over a trashcan before commencing to stomp it over and over.
Eric: Me and Dex want them bitches in the ring at that Supercard Two bullshit. We know you got the juice to make it happen, Samson. Make it happen.
Watching Eric wipe the blood from his face with his bare hand and then wipe it on his chest gives the color commentator a moment of pause. He glances over at Dexter who is still stomping away on the now almost flattened trashcan.
Samson: I'll get right on that. Besides, I think I hear Champa calling me anyway. I'll get back with you guys once I confirmation on that match.
Making sure not to turn his back on the violent duo, Samson backs out of the room leaving The Heathens to fume.
The Heathens
The crashing sound of metal preceded the sight of the folding metal chair crashing into the wall. That was quickly followed by the entrance of the bloodied Calloway brothers known as The Heathens.
Dexter: GODDAMN! MOTHERFUCKA!
Behind Eric and Dexter walked in Joshua Samson, Esq. With a huge smile upon his face, the executive representative scanned the empty locker room.
Samson: What's the problem, guys? Things went beautifully out there if I say so myself.
Eric: What's the problem? WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?! The problem is those stanking ass Southern Xchange! Them sissy boys have got to fucking die, Samson. You hear me, Samson? DIE!
Arms folded across his chest, Samson leans against the wall. Dexter meanwhile kicks over a trashcan before commencing to stomp it over and over.
Eric: Me and Dex want them bitches in the ring at that Supercard Two bullshit. We know you got the juice to make it happen, Samson. Make it happen.
Watching Eric wipe the blood from his face with his bare hand and then wipe it on his chest gives the color commentator a moment of pause. He glances over at Dexter who is still stomping away on the now almost flattened trashcan.
Samson: I'll get right on that. Besides, I think I hear Champa calling me anyway. I'll get back with you guys once I confirmation on that match.
Making sure not to turn his back on the violent duo, Samson backs out of the room leaving The Heathens to fume.
The Heathens
