Best tag-team ever! #1

[The gloomy skies began to clear yet it seemed like a never-ending fall of snow as it continued to shower on the world below. The narrow streets ran empty however the alleyways were infested with hobos who tried to keep warm with their newspapers and plastic bags.]

Hart: “Creating the Heart Attacks with tails, is something Im prod of! I’ve watched you grow Tails. You became a superstar right before my eyes, yet I was left to dry on the hanger with the others. While I fought hard to keep my ground there you were headlining talk shows, dominating the ranks I’ve tried so hard to get over… yet I found myself failing with every attempt. But that’s all changed, ay partna? I mean now were both in the spotlight, me with my sponsors and you with the gothic fans! Us coming together, we have just become the most dangoures team to ever grace the WWA!”

[Hart said to himself as he walked along the edge of a rooftop that stretched to the skies. With his newly won Anarchy Championship around his waist.]

Hart: “Dean, here we go again…Round two…Your chance at redemption…Lets hope this time around you get something out there! Its really fucked up how you left me caring the load last week…Sure I got the easy road to road two of the brackets, But it was a disappointment on you end! You had a lot to say in the background without the camera rolling, but when it was time to put out something...I guess you got cold feet! Dean you talked about being the greatest thing to hit the Warzone brand…Yet you wouldn’t last the everyday struggles I had to go through to get where I am today! Here I am… still standing, battle scars have left me criminal minded, I’ve been trading war stories with the world since the minute I arrived here… and you…. What have you done? Posing for magazine covers like the tree jumping faggot that you are? Pulling in men and women of all kind for a fucking picture and a worthless autograph? But when it comes to cutting a damn promo, or even making an effort in the ring, then where are yea? that’s right…out to pastor!”

[Hart questioned as he slowly withdrew a cigarette from his coat pocket. His wet lower lip glued the cigarette filter as he then flicked his lighter to burn the front end of his cigarette.]

Hart: “Since the birth of our careers Bobby O. we’ve managed to draw our own lines, Mine to the top and yours to the lonely bottom where Promo hackers belong!”

[Hart angrily muttered as he took a pull off his cigarette. It’s poison smoke swirled from out of his nostrils as he continued.]

Hart: “This hatred I carry will run along through our dying days. I got no respect for someone who Jacks another’s hard work and tries to make it his own! Hell given the opportunity right now… I would hang you out off the ledge with a tight grip, without even thinking twice about it! Though I can’t touch you till Warzone Bobby O, I could only plan your misery. For right now this isn’t about a shot at the title. I already got that! There’s still a long road ahead. It’s about this game‘s history. It’s all about your downfall and my rise. The experiences in and out of the ring. No way will I be put down by some Certain Jacker, who cant even muster up his own promos!”

[Hart closed his eyes as the light breeze ran passed him.]

Hart: “Your stuck and unable to move forward. Here I am Bobby O, and Dean H, surpassing you both. A new chapter will be engraved into our battles. You’ll both come to hate yourselves when looking back at the events that will occur. Your fans… they’ll come to hate you more. In the end when there’s nothing left for you two, when your still struggling in the position you are now. I just hope you find the strength to pull the trigger. Put an end to the attempt your trying to complete. Cause this is both your last attempts!”

[Hart calmly brushed the ashes from his attire as he stared into the emptiness surrounding him.]

Hart: “Dean, Bobby…Have you ever been in a situation where you had your back against the wall? Where even a blink in eyes could cost you your life. The slightest of all moves and BAM your just another figure in the funeral home. This is what it’s come down to folks. You can’t afford to blink. One step back and it’s over. Your back is against the wall on this one. People have finally come to realize that you’re just a tool, a dull fucking group of monkeys that has nothing left in the tank. A game that’s easily played and once beaten over and over again, it no longer holds value. There’s no joy into playing nor is there a sense of watching. You’ve both been tuned out. So think hard about retirement you tree monkeys cause the finale is soon to come, There is no room for two new Jobbers!”

[A soft smile was painted across the mug of Hart as he flicked his cigarette and watched as the wind carried it away.]

Hart: “Cats got nothing to say? lie. Do something! Don’t know show me again Dean! Even if you find yourself conversing with the Almighty, lie. Even if you’re going to get caught eventually, lie. (Like are great owner Joe Santiago did to his love!) Even if that eventuality is only thirty seconds away. Five seconds. One second. Half a second. The abysmally miniscule length of time you entertained the notion of beating me, Lie your motherfucken ass off!”

“And Bobby O. when your not jacking promos, and you do somehow manage to put out your own line of work…Its still shit! Every time you speak, even if only of the weather, it’s incomparably important, and your audience is hanging on your every word. Why say in three words what you can stretch into thirty, simultaneously delighting and pissing off everyone in the process? Ay Bobby?”

[Hart, almost loses his balance, as he begins to swerve…But catches it before it gets to out of control, and he plunges to his death!]

Hart: “Swerve…A straight drive is never fun or entertaining, no matter the destination or how many mundane detours through the countryside you take. Not even if you’re drunk. . . . Well, okay, then it’s a little fun. But as fun as swerving around, screwing with people? Not a chance.”

[Just then Tails comes out to the roof watching Hart, ranting on…]

Tails: What the hell are you doing?

Hart: “Giving the world my two cents, trying to make it a better place.”

Tails: And in the meantime, straight murk Dean, and Bobby O.?”

Hart: “Casualties of war, my good friend!”

Tails: Partna, sometimes I think when you got to much of that Happy Juice in yea, you think your Confucius…himself

Hart: “I could be…watch…”

[Hart adjust himself towards Tails.]

Hart: “Always be the flame, never the moth.”

Tails: What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Hart: “Casanova said that, but it doesn’t only apply to romance with the fairer sex, or even to getting laid. Let people’s enthusiasm and attraction be their downfall; if you wait long enough, they’ll come to you, and then you consume. Or, in the case of nice tits and a delectable backside, you devour.”

Tails: Your just filled with useless shit.
Hart: “Subtlety is King.”

Tails: What?

Hart: “Even if you later have to point it out. For Example: You didn't notice that last section was to deride whatshisname for showing up in WWA, did you?”

Tails: Does that even mean anything towards Warzones match?

Hart: Formula is for babies. Formulae for math.”

Tails: Baby Formula? Who’s having the Baby?

[Hart just shakes his head…]

Hart: “Bobby O. and Dean H. have to Grow the fuck out of it already. Step beyond the box.”

Tails: At least you’re getting back to the subject at hand.

Hart: “Apologies are not to absolve guilt, but to inspire it.”

Tails: And we lost him again.

Hart: If you think saying sorry makes you feel better or shows character for ripping off Promos, you’re a sucker Bobby. In these days of moral relativism the criminal is the victim and the victim is the criminal. Anything can be rationalized. Everything can be excused and explained. Don’t be sorry for what you are or what you did; be sorry for what they made you, for what they made you do. Personal accountability for wrongdoing, they say? Apologize for not having the pious upbringing they did.”

Tails: Bobby ripping other cats off was a bad move on his part.

Hart: “Do random badass shit Bobby!”

Tails: Now your giving them tips? Who’s team are you on?

Hart: “It keeps people on their toes, and gives you the creative edge, you just don’t got!”

Tails: I though you were going a whole different direction with that.

Hart: “Rub It In”

Tails: Rub what in? Listen partna, were a team, but I got my boundaries and I aint rubbing nothing on yea! Go hire Cutie Pie for that!

Hart: “Some people are simply too hopeless to be helped, regardless of how far you dumb it down. They always claim they want to face you, that they’re on the verge of orgasm even at the prospect, despite the fact that the aftermath always sees them sulking like a virginal menopausal woman. Calling you cheap, or a cheater, or unleashing whatever moaning rhetoric helps them get over the fact that you’ll do anything it takes, even against them. Like it’s a surprise you fucked them over.”

“If they’d only stop and think.”

“If they only had a brain.”

Tails: A Brain is something there def. missing…

[Hart begins to whistle…]

Tails: Your signing now? Oh great…And Im the odd ball of the team. Bra, why don’t we get back inside. This whole celebrating your Anarchy Championship win, has got you a little to tipsy!

[Tails just keeps on lecturing his partner about how he’s had a tad bit to much to drink.]

Hart: "Hold that thought,"

[Hart interrupts with a grin, plucking a phone from his pocket. A handful of seconds and some number-punching later he’s addressing the receiver. Paying no mind to Tails or the falling snow, that has begun to fall.]

Hart: "Hey, it’s me. Yeah. Six balloons popped. No, helium. Blame the gypsies, man. It’s always the damn gypsies. Two smokes, three beers, and deer antlers. Yeah. Take it easy."

[With Tails regarding him cockeyed, Hart folds up the phone and tucks it back into his jacket.]

Tails: "The fuck was that?"

Hart: "Someone’s dead in five minutes."

Tails: "What?! Who?"

Hart: "How the hell should I know?"

Tails: But you just said?

Hart: Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

Tails: You are the man behind the curtain. Except you’re not a hapless pussy. Whenever something good happens, even if you were ignorant of it beforehand, once it goes down you’re responsible – in fact, it was your plan all along. Without you it could not have happened. And if someone ever pulls back the shade, make sure the last thing they see is the business end of your shotgun.

Hart: Don’t quote song lyrics. Unless they are pertinent to your story or they really, really own someone.

[With that the camera, cuts to a fade out of one of Hart’s many commercials…]