Clasped in his left hand is a small travel bag, presumably filled with his wrestling attire; which swings gently back and forth in time with his walking pace.
Ahead of him is a crowd of reporters and cameramen who, upon seeing him, rush towards him in a flurry of noise and lights.
Hans allows his free hand to rise in an effort to calm them, appealing for silence. Giving them a few seconds to quieten down, Hans proceeds to take the questions being fired at him.
A reporter wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a pinstripe suit waves a Parker pen in Hans' direction, a notepad held in his other hand.
(Reporter 1#): Hans, what are you initial thoughts on the closing moments of Fatality? How do you feel about losing to Ronnie and Eddie and having Hulk Hogan return to the HWA?
Hans rolls his tongue across the inside of his cheek, chewing on his bottom lip as he goes over the questions in his head, reliving the conclusion of the pay-per-view in his head as he does so.
(Hans): Well, no man likes to see a match finish the way mine's and Butch's did, no matter who the victor is. Am I disappointed at losing? Yes, but the manner of the loss hurts more and I'm sure Butch will concur on that matter. As most people will have gathered, I'm not one to use coarse language…
Hans pauses for a moment, shaking his head, frustration welling up like a volcano about to erupt.
(Hans): …but that was nothing more than a cluster-f***. As for Hogan…
Before Hans can reveal his thoughts regarding Hulk Hogan's dramatic return to the HWA, a loud crashing noise is heard close by that grabs the attention of the throng of gathered media and Hans's aswell. The camera pans around to the location of the noise to see Butch Parker materialise from his own locker room, a steel folding chair, severely dented, flying across the corridor. Butch's face is thunderous with rage as he kicks a huge hole in the opposing wall. The mass of reporters turn to face Butch, a cacophony of Butch's name being shouted repeatedly fills the corridor. Hans' face screws up, his expression foreboding as he shouts after them.
(Hans): Do you really think that's a good idea?
The reporters pay him no heed and continue approaching Butch who has just caught a glimpse of Hans behind the reporters. They continue shouting his name amongst indecipherable questions but it proves unwise, and Butch snatches the closest person he can get his hands on, lifting him off the ground with ease. Hans sees the confrontation escalating and jogs hurriedly over, placing a calming hand on Butch's shoulder. Butch's attention immediately turns to Hans, his head craning around to look at him.
(Hans): Butch, put him down, come on, we'll take a walk; clear our heads.
Butch sighs heavily through his nose before seeing sense and relinquishes his grip on the petrified reporter. He turns and walks away whilst Hans addresses the reporters.
(Hans): Sorry guys, but I don't think anymore questions are going to benefit anyone right now. I've got tomorrow set aside for press statements as it is, any other questions you have, feel free to air them then. For one, you'll have to excuse me.
The reporters persist in throwing questions at the World Champion but Hans ignores them, simply turning and running to catch up with Butch. Catching up to him with relative ease, he slows his stride down to slow walk alongside him. They walk in silence for a few moments before a low whistle escapes Hans' lips.
(Hans): Well that could've ended badly.
Butch merely shrugs his shoulders.
(Butch): Yeah well, might aswell add another lawsuit to my ever-growing list of accomplishments.
(Hans): Hmm. Wouldn't say it'd be one of your better ones…
(Butch): Meh. It's hard to really differentiate what's good and bad for me these days. I attack Talon, I'm the bad guy. I get my back spray-painted by Hulk Hogan and I get the sympathy vote.
He glances across at Hans.
(Butch): It's FUBAR.
Hans' eyebrows arch up as he mouths what Butch has just said, going over it in his head before the moment of realisation dawns. He snorts with amusement.
(Hans): I can't disagree with that just now.
They continue to walk in silence for a few more minutes before the conversation strikes up again. Butch appears to have calmed down, sighing quietly through his nose, placing his hands on his hips but the rage soon takes over again, almost Jekyll and Hyde-esque as he releases a guttural, frustrated roar.
(Butch): F***ing….No!
He turns around, gesturing back up the corridor.
(Butch): What the actual f*** did they just pull? Hulk f***ing Hogan? Really? What are we meant to do now? Go and get the Ultimate Warrior?
He turns back around and resumes his walk.
(Butch): What do they expect him to do? Speak on their behalf and belittle those around to take away from that the fact that they can't seem to answer or confront their problems head on? Coz he sure as shit can't wrestle anymore….
(Hans): I wouldn't even go there, Butch. He's almost our joint age combined, so what's he going to be fighting? Arthritis? Tell me you aren't actually contemplating challenging him?
Butch turns to look at Hans, one eyebrow arched.
(Butch): That's not exactly what I had in mind.
(Hans): What did you have in mind then?
Butch sighs deeply again, holding his arms out.
(Butch): I don't know.
Hans studies Butch's face for a few moments, before nodding curtly.
(Hans): Well neither do I.
He gestures down at his small duffel bag.
(Hans): Look, 'Fatality' finished not even an hour ago. I feel liked I cracked a rib, and you're seeing red. How about we meet up for breakfast, and we can go into specifics?
Butch, his hands on his hips, stares at the floor for a moment, before nodding in agreement. He looks back at Hans.
(Butch): Yeah... I probably need stitches as well and I need to speak to Wisdom, if you think I'm angry, you should see her.
Hans smiles wryly at the thought, muttering a response.
(Hans): A women scorned...
He hefts the duffel bag into his other hand.
(Hans): On that topic, when I say breakfast, I mean eating out. Vanessa... well...
He shrugs his shoulders.
(Hans): She still has misgivings, and well, I can't blame her, and I've got them myself. Hope you understand.
Butch utters a light sigh, managing a light acknowledging smile.
(Butch): Of course. Wisdom, of course, doesn't agree but then again, she doesn't agree with almost anything. As long as you know that I have and always will have your back?
Hans nods, accepting this. He claps Butch on the shoulder with his left hand, a grim expression forming on his face.
(Hans): You'll have plenty of opportunity over the coming months to prove that, I fear...
The scene fades to black as the two men walk out of view.
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