Ace is being tended to by a medical crew, being put on a stretcher. Among the chatter of the medical staff, Bray shoves one of them out of his way and his face intensifies upon seeing his sister’s battered body. He tilts his head to gaze at some of the medics tending to her.
Bray: What happened?.....
No one gives him an answer. Almost out of instinct, he grabs one of the medics by the collar and brings him in, almost choking him.
Bray: WHAT THE F*** happened!?
Medic: M-Madison Cox, sir!! She attacked Ace after the match! Almost broke her neck on the table!
Bray: She… she did WHAT?
Medic: That’s it! Her injuries aren’t too severe but she will need medical attention and-
Bray: SHUT UP! Just f***ing do it!!
He shoves the medic away from him as he makes room for the others to close the door. Bray backs away as the alarms begins to blare and the ambulance disappears from the arena, leaving him seething in anger.
Bray: Damn it all…
He punches a nearby table, startling some people near him. He wipes the subtle tears off his face as his breathing intensifies, along with his facial expressions. He starts to rapidly muttering words to himself.
Bray: F*** it.
After his little episode, Bray storms off into the locker room area.
The camera pans to the announce team.
Somone is gonna pay!
You know it!
Buddy Burns vs Ed Reed
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The camera pans to the announce team.
Kapow!
He got all of that!
Previously recorded:
The scene opens up inside a gym where lots of people are working out. Over by the weight lifting area, we see the usual jacked meat heads, ever so feeding into their masculinity with loud ugly grunts as they noisily lift things up and put things down.
Among the muscly silhouettes, the camera pans to a still burly -but somewhat ‘unlike the other'- figures. Wait. Bill Ding, is that you?
Well sh*t. It is indeed the reigning, defending, (FAT) International Champion, Bill Ding! He turns his sweaty body toward the camera, showing off his awesomely 80’s terrycloth headband with little yellow lightning bolts on it. He wipes beads of sweat from his face and flashes a grin and thumbs up.
Ding: Woosah! Hey there daddehs! You caught me here workin’ a sweat!!
Ding: Now now, I know what all of y’all are thinkin’. You must be mighty surprised to see me here, in tha GYM! You must be thinkin’, ‘Hey, this ain't the subway shop! Ol’ Ding must be some kind of lost’.
Ding: Well lemme reassure you fiine folks that this is no mistake. I am here gettin’ down and dirtay with tha fitness. Givin’ the ol’ ticker a stretch and gettin’ the blood and juices a’flowin’! Workin’ tha-... Well, you catch mah drift. I'm workin’ out, DADDEHS!
Ding: I thought to mahself, “Ding poppa, up until now you been fightin’ some of the smaller creams of the crop. But no one quite the size of Big ol’ Ed. All that exercise you get liftin’ up and slammin’ down your hammer, swingin’ your meaty hooks just ain’t gonna be quite enough on Riot.”
Ding: Then we got Sebbie-boy, who I'll be seein’ Sunday. He's a wily one, that Seb. Ding daddeh gonna need to get his cardiovasculars up and runnin’ to the likes of the hippity-hoppity thundah from down undah.
Ding: And hey, who knows, maybe an ol’ dog like me ‘can’ learn new tricks and it’ll stick!
Ding hikes up his tool belt. (Yes… he wears his toolbelt when he works out. Don't you?)
Ding: Alls I know iiis, I'm ESSITED, daddehs!! That adrenaline runnin’ through mah veins! And no I'm not talkin’ the juice- you can go see them fellas over there for that.
Ding: Now if y’all excuse meh, Daddeh Ding got to get back to work! See ya soon!
