HWA Message Board: Part Two 'Sound'

Continued from previous…

(Hans): *Dryly* He could be training hard I suppose…

(Heinrich): Oh I’m sure he could be. For what good it’ll do him.

(Hans): Still confident of the win?

(Heinrich): Nothing has happened that would give any indication otherwise. I hear that the bookmakers are offering good odds towards me progressing.

He smiles confidently up at Hans.

(Heinrich): I know you’re not one for gambling, but if you were in the mind to get Vanessa a little something, then you could easily afford it if you were to place a bet on me…

(Hans): I’ll bear that in mind.

Heinrich thumbs in the direction of the large widescreen television in the corner.

(Heinrich): Unlike Lucas, one of your opponents made noises this morning. I Tivo’d it for you.

Hans raises his eyebrows, interest piqued, as he drops the bottle into the bin, before turning back to face his brother.

The scene fades out momentarily, before fading in on the same room. Judging by the darkness falling outside, it’s late in the evening. Hans von Richtoven comes in from off-camera, settling down onto the spot where his brother once occupied. Now dressed in a pair of casual grey jeans, white official HWA ‘The Baron’ t-shirt emblazoned with the von Richtoven crest covered with a stylish black jacket in a military cut.

Settling himself into the chair, he allows himself a moments peace before beginning.

(Hans): I actually feel sorry for you Ronnie. To say what you said despite what you’ve done… or failed to do, over the last few weeks smacks of desperation. You’re not some ‘golden ticket’ Ronnie. Far from it. You’re the dregs of the barrel. You’re in this match despite your failures and short comings because I’ve either embarrassed the others in-ring or they’re preoccupied with other titles.

His tone becomes scornful, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing.

(Hans): You say you’ve endured so much to get to this point? Don’t give me that Ronnie. Tiger Wood’s apologies for his actions are more believable than that. I’m not going to even denigrate your claim at being hall of fame material; the last eight months of you ‘showing this time and time again’ put paid to any notion of the sort far better than I ever can with words. You struggled against Lucas, got beaten by Buff, and had to resort to assaulting Lunatik to progress through the triple threat match. You’ve interfered with my match last week in a feeble attempt to give yourself something to crow about, something tangible, something that would mean you’d be taken a little bit more seriously.

He hoists up his All-Star title, the gold gleaming under the ceiling lights. He runs his fingers over his engraved name, continuing…

(Hans): It’s incumbent on me to take this title from you is it Ronnie? Naturally, I beg to differ. If it wasn’t for the grace of others, you’d be still on the bottom rung, mewling about the roadblocks in your life. If it wasn’t for Senester asking for the ‘Circle of Champions’ to put forward names, you’d be still on the bottom rung, mewling about the roadblocks in your life. If I wasn’t such a competitive man, offering you a second undeserved chance, you’d be still on the bottom rung, mewling about the roadblocks in your life. If it wasn’t for the fact that AC and Eddie probably thought it’d be an absolute hoot to throw you in this match for the hell of it, then you’d be still on the bottom rung, mewling about the roadblocks in your life. Nothing you’ve done makes you worthy of my title Ronnie. Nothing you’ve done makes it ‘incumbent’ on me to wrest if back from you because you once had an undefeated reign so long ago.

Shouldering his All-Star title, he carries on.

(Hans): I’ve already done you a favour Ronnie. I’ve given you a platform from which you can spit on those that put you there. And this Havoc, I’m going to take it away. I’ll bring my best, I always do. I don’t need to get my excuses in early in case I lose. What will yours be this time Ronnie? You got caught out trying to show how inferior I was? You got caught out believing that you could beat me anytime and anyplace with one hand behind your back? That you were just lulling me into a sense of false security for when we next face off?

He gets to his feet, the camera remaining at the same height, although tilting upwards to keep his head in full view.

(Hans): I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait quite some time to get rid of this championship addiction of yours Ronnie. My title isn’t going anywhere.

Once more, the scene fades out briefly, before rematerializing onto a scene inside the Bennetts Lane club in Melbourne proper. Standing by the bar, sipping quietly on a beer, allowing the jazz music coming from the live musicians across the bar flow over him, Hans is a picture of calm.

A slight ripple of interest flickers round the room, drawing Hans’ attention towards the entrance to the bar, as Talon Wilkinson steps in. Nodding his head towards Talon, Hans turns back to face the attractive young waitress, gesturing for another beer as Talon makes his way towards him…

The scene fades to black.