Post by Nick Hunter on Mar 26, 2018 2:47:48 GMT
The camera winds its way through the Talking Stick Resort casino, picking through the crowd as it approaches the bar area. Weaving through the crowd, it comes to a stop near a booth in the back, at which is seated Nick Hunter, dressed to the nines in a dark purple suit. Nick grins, raising his glass to the camera, and takes a sip.
"Thanks for joining me. I was getting a little worried y'all wouldn't show after that last display. I kinda went after some of the sacred cows, and even though those burgers were delicious, I'm still hungry. But I'ma take a little detour. I'ma talk about the jackass who we're all lining up on in the first place, the one we gotta deal with at the end of the road in Sin City himself. What up, Angel?"
Nick winks at the camera, laughing and shaking his head.
"You probably ain't even watchin' this. Think I'm no threat, think you gotta worry about one of them boys I put on blast last time out. That's what we back home call a fatal mistake. When it all comes down to the wire and you end up staring at me across the ring, you're gonna wish you hadn't taken me and my boy Nate lightly. We're going hard at this, hard as any of the front-runners, and we ain't gonna stop until we dead or until that World Championship comes back home to Nola. That's something you can believe in."
He takes another sip from his drink, smacking his lips and sighing as another grin crosses his face.
"I get it, you think you got backup. You got Spike Kane's triflin' ass watching out for you, you got that goddamn panther like you're some kind of Bond villain, you think any match you walk into gonna end in good times for you and bad times for anyone who stands up to you. You got that god complex going on, think you're here to judge us all for our sins and how we fall short. Let me remind you of a little something, my man: Jesus already died for my sins, and I have no problem beating your ass for yours. I am saved, homie, and you will be reborn anew, baptized in a pool of your own tears. Hallelujah."
Nick exhales slowly, looking around him with a grin of absolute enjoyment on his face.
"Like...damn. How up your own ass do you gotta be to say you're a god? I ain't no god. I'm just a man, gifted with skills and athletic grace. That's all me and Nate got: hustle and skill. It takes a man a long way. And we ain't ever get it twisted about the truth of things. You, Angel, you and reality got divorced a long time ago, and y'all ain't even going to counseling. Maybe you should. Maybe you oughta get some help for your shit. Here, let me help you. Lemme take that belt off you, take that weight off your shoulders. You ain't gotta be here, Angel, I'ma hold down the fort. This is the closest I'm gonna get to mercy for you, man. You best take it."
He takes another gulp of his drink, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, and leans over the table, clasping his hands and looking up into the camera with a cocked eyebrow.
"So I gotta throw some fools over the top to get to you, Angel? I'ma do it. You ain't nothin', man. You're a punk in facepaint, acting like he is the Lord my God. Fuck you. You ain't Jesus, you ain't Hov, you ain't nothing. You know who really run this town tonight, don't you Angel? This is Saints territory. You on our street, acting like you the king. You're just a punk we're givin' the time of day. Time's gonna run out for your ass real soon. Clock starts at High Stakes. Tick tock, motherfucker. Tick. Tock. Be seein' you real soon."
Nick nods to the camera again, smirking, and stands up, taking his drink with him as he walks into the crowd. We focus on the bustling crowd, tracking Nick for a few lingering seconds until he's swallowed by the horde, and then fade out.
"Thanks for joining me. I was getting a little worried y'all wouldn't show after that last display. I kinda went after some of the sacred cows, and even though those burgers were delicious, I'm still hungry. But I'ma take a little detour. I'ma talk about the jackass who we're all lining up on in the first place, the one we gotta deal with at the end of the road in Sin City himself. What up, Angel?"
Nick winks at the camera, laughing and shaking his head.
"You probably ain't even watchin' this. Think I'm no threat, think you gotta worry about one of them boys I put on blast last time out. That's what we back home call a fatal mistake. When it all comes down to the wire and you end up staring at me across the ring, you're gonna wish you hadn't taken me and my boy Nate lightly. We're going hard at this, hard as any of the front-runners, and we ain't gonna stop until we dead or until that World Championship comes back home to Nola. That's something you can believe in."
He takes another sip from his drink, smacking his lips and sighing as another grin crosses his face.
"I get it, you think you got backup. You got Spike Kane's triflin' ass watching out for you, you got that goddamn panther like you're some kind of Bond villain, you think any match you walk into gonna end in good times for you and bad times for anyone who stands up to you. You got that god complex going on, think you're here to judge us all for our sins and how we fall short. Let me remind you of a little something, my man: Jesus already died for my sins, and I have no problem beating your ass for yours. I am saved, homie, and you will be reborn anew, baptized in a pool of your own tears. Hallelujah."
Nick exhales slowly, looking around him with a grin of absolute enjoyment on his face.
"Like...damn. How up your own ass do you gotta be to say you're a god? I ain't no god. I'm just a man, gifted with skills and athletic grace. That's all me and Nate got: hustle and skill. It takes a man a long way. And we ain't ever get it twisted about the truth of things. You, Angel, you and reality got divorced a long time ago, and y'all ain't even going to counseling. Maybe you should. Maybe you oughta get some help for your shit. Here, let me help you. Lemme take that belt off you, take that weight off your shoulders. You ain't gotta be here, Angel, I'ma hold down the fort. This is the closest I'm gonna get to mercy for you, man. You best take it."
He takes another gulp of his drink, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, and leans over the table, clasping his hands and looking up into the camera with a cocked eyebrow.
"So I gotta throw some fools over the top to get to you, Angel? I'ma do it. You ain't nothin', man. You're a punk in facepaint, acting like he is the Lord my God. Fuck you. You ain't Jesus, you ain't Hov, you ain't nothing. You know who really run this town tonight, don't you Angel? This is Saints territory. You on our street, acting like you the king. You're just a punk we're givin' the time of day. Time's gonna run out for your ass real soon. Clock starts at High Stakes. Tick tock, motherfucker. Tick. Tock. Be seein' you real soon."
Nick nods to the camera again, smirking, and stands up, taking his drink with him as he walks into the crowd. We focus on the bustling crowd, tracking Nick for a few lingering seconds until he's swallowed by the horde, and then fade out.
Nick opens the door to the hotel room, grinning as he does. "So you got that time off, huh? Come on in." He steps to the side, gesturing inside, and a beautiful young woman walks in towing a suitcase, looking around with a raised eyebrow. Nick chuckles, closing the door behind her. "What'd I say? Phoenix, Arizona. Got you out here, got you roomed up all on the company dime. You gonna have a VIP suite at the pay-per-view, girl, all comped. You ain't gotta spend a dime if you don't want to." He follows her in. "But I'ma guess you wanna unwind right now, right? Long plane flight and all that?"
The woman looks around, cocking an eyebrow. "This the hotel you're staying in?" She shakes her head. "Boy, you got issues with standards. Present company excluded, of course." She sighs, turning and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Like, don't get me twisted, I really appreciate this. Can't say a guy's ever flown me out like this before. Just..." she shrugs. "I dunno, you so good, why you stayin' in a cheap-ass hotel like this?"
"First off, WE stayin' in this hotel. Me, Nate, you, and most of the roster. Second, 'cause the boss a European cheap-ass and holes us up here, that's why." Nick replies dryly, shaking his head. "Look, it's free. Sometimes you take the comp and run with it, you feel me?" He sits in a chair across from the girl, crossing his arms over the back and resting his chin on his forearms. "Level with me, Tosha. You wanna be here?"
"Would I get my ass on a plane and fly across the damn country if I didn't want to be?" the woman replies equally dryly. "Trust me, your conversation wasn't so good I just had to haul my ass out here to get some more when texting exists. You offered, I took the offer. Simple as that."
"Is it that simple, though?" Nick tilts his head. "Like, I know how pressure works. I wanna make things clear: you ain't owe me nothin' for this, okay? Nothin' at all. I did this 'cause I like you, but there's no strings. You get me?" He sits up a little more. "No, uh, no give and take? You here because you want to be, and I don't expect anythi—"
"You saying you're not expecting to get some 'cause you did this, right?" Tosha cuts him off, eyebrow raised and lips pursed. Nick stammers and stumbles over his words, finally falling silent and dumbly nodding. He hangs his head, rubbing his temples, and Tosha holds the stare for another moment before breaking into slight laughter, shaking her head. Nick looks back up at her, confused, and she smiles at him, a warm and sincere smile. "I appreciate that. I've known a lot of high rollers who think they can buy their way into my pants. Besides, I didn't think you were doing this to get laid. You're too..." she pauses, looking for words. "Old-fashioned, I guess? You seem real old-school, do big things for a girl just 'cause you like her and you can, not 'cause you lookin' to get laid. That make sense?"
Nick pauses, nodding, and a big smile crosses his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I feel that. Thanks. That, uh, that was hard and weird. I'm not exactly a pro at talkin' feelings, in case you couldn't tell."
Tosha chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, I was picking that up a little." She smiles, crossing her legs and clasping her hands over her knee. "You're real sweet, Nick. You got that swagger, but you don't let it go to your head. I didn't want that, and if you'd been like some of the guys that hit on me, I wouldn't have even given you my real number, much less..." she looks around the hotel room, smiling. "This shit. Which, by the way, I still cannot believe I'm okay with."
Nick laughs again, unable to control his amusement. "Aight, so you ain't tired, right?" Tosha shakes her head, and Nick nods, standing up. "Cool. You wanna get ready and go get something to eat? I been scoping out restaurants for the last week, and I've got some stuff I think you'd like."
Tosha laughs, nodding, and stands back up. "I need a shower like you wouldn't believe, boy. I'm gonna go get cleaned up. Don't fall asleep on me, or I will order a bunch of room service and charge it to your bill, you got that?"
"Yes ma'am." Nick tosses off a salute, grinning. Tosha winks at him, smiling, and turns, grabbing her suitcase and rolling it into the bathroom with her. Nick watches her walk, a grin on his face, and as the door closes he falls back on the bed, laughing to himself with a dumb grin on his face. "Boy, you have hit the JACKPOT!" He pumps his fist in celebration, laughing again as we fade out.
Well howdy there pardner.