(Mueller): What's his name?
(Agent Thompson): His name is Butch Parker sir, Scottish professional wrestler, contracted with the Hardcore Wrestling Alliance, currently abiding in Santa Barbara, with his fiancée, wrestling alias "Wisdom".
Director Mueller nods along as he takes in each piece of information. Agent Booth chimes in with his two cents.
(Agent Booth): We spotted him downtown, sir, we suspect, attempting to tamper with a witness in a federal case.
(Mueller): What case?
(Agent Booth): "The People vs. HWA" sir, his boss, Senester is the CEO and own-
(Mueller): -I am aware who Senester is, Agent Booth, I've had many dealings with that son-of-a-b**** in the past. So, what exactly did he do?
(Agent Booth): We watched him approach the door of one of the witness who had given evidence against Parker, claiming he had ended his wrestling career, and force his way into the domicile.
(Mueller): Where is the witness?
(Agent Booth): In the waiting room sir, we're preparing another safe house to take him to until the trial finishes.
(Mueller): Good. And have you questioned Parker?
(Agent Booth): No sir, we were awaiting your approval.
(Mueller): Granted.
(Agent Booth): Thank you, sir.
The two agents leave the room and enter the interrogation room. Agent Thompson throws a file onto the table in the middle of the room before taking a seat in front of Butch. Agent Booth remains standing.
(Agent Thompson): So, Mr Parker, Mr Wyatt claims you tried to break into his home earlier and assault him earlier.
(Butch): Who?
(Agent Thompson): Playing dumb really doesn't play in your favor, Parker. But I'll play along anyway. Mr Wyatt, Mr T.J. Wyatt, the man whose house you attempted to break into and the man you tried to assault.
(Butch): If you must know, smartarse, I didn't know the guy's name. I went to his house to speak to him and offer him some help with his rehabilitation.
(Agent Booth): And how is it that you happened to know his address?
Butch looks up at Agent Booth.
(Butch): I worked with Senester for almost a full year; you think I don't still have some contacts?
Agent Booth slams the palms of his hands flat on the desk in an aggressive manner.
(Agent Booth): You'd best stop playing games, Parker. We've got you on tape attempting to break into Mr Wyatt's house.
(Butch): And you need to listen you little prick. I went to his house to offer him help with his rehabilitation as I know a very good specialist that deals in spinal injuries, I know this because something similar happened to my nephew not long ago. Before I could explain myself, he tried to slam the door on me, that's when I tried to open the door to attempt to explain myself. And when I finally opened the door, he ran and that's when you two jackasses appeared and arrested me.
(Agent Thompson): You do realise the seriousness of this though, Mr Parker. Mr Wyatt is a witness in a federal case. There's a variety of serious charges that could be brought against you.
Butch scoffs.
(Butch): Bullshit! You've got nothing to hold me here with, nothing at all.
Both agents exchange glances, a cocky smile fluttering over Agent Booth's face and he flips over the paper file lying on the table until he arrives at a specific page.
(Agent Booth): That….
Agent Booth points his finger to a surveillance photograph of Butch manhandling someone.
(Butch): Is a photograph of you breaking the neck of a Mr Philip Roberts, ring any bells?
Butch leans over and stares at the photograph, his brow furrowing.
(Butch): No, should it?
(Agent Booth): That is the man you killed aboard your beloved Senester's personal yacht during the HWA's last tour of Australia.
Butch's heart sinks, and he slouches back in his chair. Agent Booth walks around, sitting on the desk and he leans in towards Butch so that he his mere millimetres from his face.
(Agent Booth): You think just because you're associated with Senester and because your Scottish , that that makes you immune from the laws of this country, that it automatically means you can do whatever the f*** you like? You're a pathetic killer Parker and this is going to go before a judge and you're looking at a very long prison sentence.
Butch just stares back at the FBI agent.
(Butch): Well, you know what I think of that?
(Agent Booth): What's that?
Out of nowhere, Butch launches himself up, ramming his head forehead into Agent Booth's nose and sending him crashing over the table into a heap. Agent Thompson reacts, drawing his sidearm from its holster and he rams the butt of the gun into the back of Butch's head, knocking him out and his face hits the metal table with a thud.
Thompson helps Booth up, whose nose is severely broken, the bottom half of his face a crimson mask.
(Agent Thompson): I don't think taunting him was a very bright thing to do, man.
(Agent Booth): Ya think? Get him up and take him to the holding cells. Piece of shit…
The two agents drag an unconscious Butch Parker out of his chair and out of the interrogation room as the scene fades to black.
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