Deep Interrogation (vs. Muscles Malone and Holden Ross)
Nov 4, 2018 20:41:05 GMT -5
Kyle Shane and Holden Ross like this
Post by David Hunter on Nov 4, 2018 20:41:05 GMT -5
“Uh…hello? Yes, hello? Hey is this the phone of Holden Ross? God it better be. I accidentally called Razor Blade’s and uh…yeah suffice to say he wasn’t happy.
Anyway, if this is Holden’s phone then…hi.
Yeah hey this is David Hunter. A coworker of Holden Ross. Uh…main reason I’m calling is because I wanted to talk to you about the match this Thursday. I know last week was a bit of downer for both of us, especially since, you know…we both kinda shit the bed, but I know it wasn’t my championship that managed to be thrown over to that sideshow hack Muscles. God I’d hate to be the guy to lose the title to him…
In any event, I just wanted to get our heads together and talk about the match since we both kinda don’t like Muscles…like a lot. I know you probably hate him more considering he took your title, but I just wanted to bring to light that our mutual disdain for him could come in handy. And not the kind a prostitute doing her job would give, but the kind that helps you out when you’re feeling low and need a friend.
Not that you or I need any friends, but hey, all I’m saying is that's what makes the enemy of my enemy and unknown knows Malone is our enemy.
So Holden, whattya say, wanna team up and take down Muscles together?
…
…
…
…
…I’m just gonna assume you’re shaking your head, hoping you still have a phone and it hasn’t broken against your wall.
Thought so, just wanted to make sure.
Look, being serious, Holden, both of us don’t like Malone and both of us both want that Underground Championship. I got a good grasp on what you can do last week and I’m sure you’ve scouted me, for all that it might be worth in your eyes, so you’ll probably be coming at me with most of what you got. If you do, that’s your fault for losing, but it’s nice to see you give an effort for once.
I mean…shit man…to lose to Muscles Malone. God, imagine losing to that guy. Sure, I lost to him, but it’s not like my ass was in the pinfall or my title was on the line. Quite frankly, to say you lost a championship to Muscles Malone kind of devalues your career, doesn’t it? Like everything you’ve done before hand means absolutely nothing and anything you do afterwards means even less.
I’d hate to be that guy. But, hey, Holden, keep in mind both of us are good as singles, but if we teamed up against Muscles, I’m sure you’ll have a chance.
With that in mind, I think you’re about ready to destroy your phone, so before you go, I just wanted to say one more thing.
Good luck champ.
…
Wait, shit, that was meant for Malone’s. Um…yeah…just…try not to lose to Muscles again, alright? Losing once is forgivable but if you lost twice I doubt anybody would take you seriously again.
Not that Muscles or I do now, but I’m just saying as a collective nobody would look at you as a threat.
Please don’t destroy your phone and send me the bill. Byyyye!”
------------------------------------------------
“Hello? Yeah, hey, I’m hoping to reach Muscles Malone?
Who is this? David Hunter, I’m a coworker of his. Yeah I needed to talk to him about this Thursday.
Yeah I’ll hold…
…
…
…
…
Fuck it, I’ll just go to voicemail.
…
…
…
Long ass voicemail…
…
…
Yeah hey—nope, still thinking…
…
Yes, hey, Muscles, it’s David Hunter. Yeah, you might know me as the guy who said I didn’t respect you last week. See, that was going off the idea that you wouldn’t really put in much, considering you’re a meathead with little skill and I kind of assumed you’d suck worse than a prostitute about to be fired.
Or Holden.
Yeah that guy sucks right?
Anyway, yeah, I underestimated you last week and that one was my b.
If it makes you feel better, not only do I kind of respect you, but you managed to win a championship. Feels great right?
Yeah it fuckin better.
Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t nice. Look, Muscles, I just wanted to broach a subject with you. As good as I am, and as more than decent as you are, together, the two of us could become almost great, certainly better than the nearly mediocre Holden. Not that you need my help, or, quite frankly, I need yours, but I’m just broaching the subject that…maybe we could team up and eliminate Holden, then focus on each other?
…
…
…
Yeah I figured that wouldn’t fly either. If you said yes than feel free to delete this voicemail and I will see you Thursday to discuss some plans.
Yeah…
…
…
…
…god what an asshole…
…
…
So, yeah, Malone, assuming you said no, I’m just gonna be straight with you, something I...think you’re used to.
I still don’t really like you. As much as the prospect of making the match easier is, I still would rather destroy you and win by myself than ever say I’m teaming up with you.
Unless it’s a chick, in which case hey, hook a brother up, right?
Right?
No?
That’s fine, not my fault you need so many ladies to make up for your small package.
Speaking of which, I spoke to Holden earlier and he seemed to really have it out for you. He said stuff like you’re a horrible wrestler or a paper champion and that losing to you is the worst thing he’s ever done.
I spoke to his voicemail, so it seemed pretty standard, but I can sense it in his voice that he’d rather quit the company and move countries before wasting his time facing you in a match. Imagine being that horrible? Imagine lucking out that hard that a guy wants to leave the country?
You should play the lottery Malone. Unrelated, just a side note.
Hey, if you didn’t delete this message and are staying on and listening to this than first of all: thanks man, that really means a lot that you’d listen to another man’s voice like that for no reason. And second of all: I won’t mince words here.
You aren’t winning again.
I can joke all day about you or Holden, and it’s fun to do, sure, but when it comes down to that ring, the only thing I care about is pounding somebody’s face until they look like one of those zombies that danced on the last Trauma.
The only thing I care about is walking out with that championship and moving on to the next best thing while making all the money I can.
You might think you’re hot shit because you lucked out and made the no-name lose consciousness for three seconds, but if you think the same will happen with me, than unfortunately, I have some bad news for you.
I don’t make mistakes twice.
Good luck…former champ…
…
…
…wait, shit, I mixed them up again.
Um…
…
…
Fuck it—”
----------------------------------------------------
David Hunter is in a well-lit metal room, powered by the energy saving ability and white colored intensity of Feiss* LED light bulbs.
Feiss: at least they’re not Sylvania.*
The two-way mirror that anybody who’s seen a cop-show would know is all that David has to look at besides the well-cleaned metal floor or table.
He waves at the mirror, his hands handcuffed together.
The lone door soon opens, allowing a man in a simple dark blue suit with a red tie to enter. He has a manila folder, which he places on the table. He opens it and looks over at David.
David narrows his eyes at this man, adjusting to the whiteness of the Feiss* bulbs above him.
“Fuck me if I’m wrong but is that an Evans I spot?” he asks.
The man in the suit chuckles a bit, his smile breaking through his exterior. He sits down in a chair opposite of David, relaxing a bit.
The man speaks, “Yes sir. I’ve heard a lot about you Mr. Hunter—”
“David, if you please,” David interrupts.
“Right, David, my apologies. I’ve heard a lot about you David, but to meet you in person…wow…”
David offers his right hand to the man, a task proven difficult by his handcuffs. Mr. Evans complies, shaking the hand. Once they’re done, they both relax back in their chairs.
“I know that this is usually where you ask questions and I answer, but would you mind if I throw one out there? It’s a bit personal, but I’m way too curious,” David says.
Mr. Evans shrugs, waving a hand for David to continue.
“What the hell is an Evans doing working for The Others? Sorry if that sounds crass or something, but after you all kind of migrated here, your dad and mom stuck with Google while your sister decided to try out the Peacekeepers. How’s she doing, by the way?” he asks.
“Turns out she’s actually really good with a gun. That friend of yours? What was it, Argile?” Mr. Evans asks.
“Argit,” David says, still jovial.
“Right, Argit. They actually recently put her in leadership to get him back. Turns out Mr. O’Connell went a bit rogue when helping out your dad. Sorry, we’re not supposed to mention him, that’s on me,” Mr. Evans says.
David chuckles a bit, waving it off with his handcuffed hands.
“Nah, its fine. Uncle Rick can handle it. Kudos to her though,” he says.
“Right,” Mr. Evans says. “But uh…I went to law school when I came here and eventually got an offer from these guys. I didn’t know the extent of it but, hey…can’t say it isn’t fun. So…would you mind answering a few questions?”
David nods once.
“By all means.”
“Great,” Mr. Evans starts. “So then, Mr. David Hunter—sorry, mandatory to start out with your full name—born in Florida, biological parents are dead, adopted by Jack Hunter—again, sorry, mandatory—and Carlene Hunter, Carlene dead, father remarried to Lydia Hunter née Deetz, now presently on both the Council and Peacekeepers’ watch lists for attempted interference with another dimension and an attempt at illegal dimension crossing. That sound right?”
David looks up at ceiling, his mouth open a bit. After a few more seconds, he closes it and looks at Mr. Evans.
“You’re missing a few details in there but I think you got it,” he asks.
“Excellent. So, David, we didn’t bring you in here for all of that other stuff. Quite frankly, we understand wanting to change somebody’s destiny. Fate’s not a nice guy, we’ve had dinner with him last week and he stiffed us on the bill. We also understand wanting to get the hell out. Honestly, this dimension sucks. I’ve always found Middleton to be fun, if not a bit dangerous at times,” Mr. Evans says.
“I’ve always been a Remnant man myself,” David responds.
“Yes, exactly, we all have our favorites. The thing is David…we’re here to talk about your meeting with one Mr. Mercury Black. He must mean a lot to you if you were willing to break your probation just to talk to him.”
David shakes his head, playing off how serious Mr. Evans was as a joke.
“Yeah, we go back a bit. I used to work with him in Remnant before the school fell. Would’ve stuck around too if Dad didn’t pull me out when he did. Fucker…would’ve loved to make some big money,” he says.
“You mean working for Salem?” Mr. Evans asks.
David looks away, cracking his neck and releasing a sigh.
“Look, I didn’t know he was one of Salem’s boys, alright? As far as I could tell he was working for one of the hottest—pun intended—chicks this side of Azarath,” he says.
“But you were willing to keep working with him, even now, knowing what your fate would’ve been? Your dad knew, which is why he brought you home,” Mr. Evans says.
“Home?” David asks, accompanying it with a snort. “Please. I haven’t had a home since I was seventeen. No offense Mr. Evans, but if I really wanted a lecture, I would’ve let Uncle Rick take me instead.”
Mr. Evans snaps, pointing at David.
“But you didn’t. You cashed in your last favor to be interrogated by us. Why? Because you knew you’d be able to walk out and go back to that shitty apartment by the end of the day? Don’t get me wrong, David, you will, you’re cooperative and smart enough to know that, but you specifically requested to be taken in by us. That takes a lot of gall. So tell me David…what were you and Mr. Black talking about?”
David once again tries to laugh it up, but it doesn’t last long enough to be taken as more than a nervous tick.
“All we did was talk about how he got into this new gang. Besides that it was catching up on things. Turns out he got invited over by this guy who was looking for a crew. It was a good enough investment where he could afford to lose Salem for a bit. He didn’t tell me names or specifics. He was wondering if I was interested, but when I told him I was putting the jobs on hold for the wrestling career, he waved it off and we started talking about Emerald.”
“Miss Sustrai, yes?” Mr. Evans asks, but doesn’t wait for David to respond. “Know why she wasn’t brought over?”
David huffs, looking around the room before focusing on Mr. Evans
“Ryan, who the fuck is this guy? He’s got Uncle Rick, Dad, the Council, the Peacekeepers, and now the Others spooked and haulin ass. The fact that he’s got you guys involved means he’s more than just an escapee from the Null Void,” David says.
Mr. Evans closes David’s file, standing up and looking down at him.
“Unless you want to unretire and get back involved, I can’t tell you that. Even still, you’d be doing so under the Others’ jurisdiction, which I know you don’t want. What was it you said, you’d rather have sex with Mother than join us?” Mr. Evans asks.
“I didn’t say ‘have sex’, but yeah,” David says.
“That’s what I thought. You and Mercury never once exchanged business cards, names, addresses, dates, locations, anything at all besides pleasantries and your recent endeavors?” Mr. Evans asks once more.
“No!” David actually exclaims.
“Great. Thank you for the assistance Mr. Hunter—”
“It’s David!” David says, standing up.
All Mr. Evans does it smile, shaking his head and pushing his seat in. He grabs the manila folder, closing it up and heading towards the door.
“Right…David…” he says. “Just sit tight, we’ll have you out in no time. We’ve put a week-long mandate that you’re not tp be questioned about what happened here by anybody. Your probation stands until the time limit set by the Council expires. From then, we’ll keep in touch if we need anything else.”
Once the door is opened and closed—Mr. Evans having left—David sits back down, looking around at the Feiss* powered light bulb room. Eventually, he leans back in his chair, his mouth agape, stuck in though.
*This roleplay was not sponsored and has no affiliation with Murray-Feiss, any light bulb, or any light bulb associated products they sell.
Anyway, if this is Holden’s phone then…hi.
Yeah hey this is David Hunter. A coworker of Holden Ross. Uh…main reason I’m calling is because I wanted to talk to you about the match this Thursday. I know last week was a bit of downer for both of us, especially since, you know…we both kinda shit the bed, but I know it wasn’t my championship that managed to be thrown over to that sideshow hack Muscles. God I’d hate to be the guy to lose the title to him…
In any event, I just wanted to get our heads together and talk about the match since we both kinda don’t like Muscles…like a lot. I know you probably hate him more considering he took your title, but I just wanted to bring to light that our mutual disdain for him could come in handy. And not the kind a prostitute doing her job would give, but the kind that helps you out when you’re feeling low and need a friend.
Not that you or I need any friends, but hey, all I’m saying is that's what makes the enemy of my enemy and unknown knows Malone is our enemy.
So Holden, whattya say, wanna team up and take down Muscles together?
…
…
…
…
…I’m just gonna assume you’re shaking your head, hoping you still have a phone and it hasn’t broken against your wall.
Thought so, just wanted to make sure.
Look, being serious, Holden, both of us don’t like Malone and both of us both want that Underground Championship. I got a good grasp on what you can do last week and I’m sure you’ve scouted me, for all that it might be worth in your eyes, so you’ll probably be coming at me with most of what you got. If you do, that’s your fault for losing, but it’s nice to see you give an effort for once.
I mean…shit man…to lose to Muscles Malone. God, imagine losing to that guy. Sure, I lost to him, but it’s not like my ass was in the pinfall or my title was on the line. Quite frankly, to say you lost a championship to Muscles Malone kind of devalues your career, doesn’t it? Like everything you’ve done before hand means absolutely nothing and anything you do afterwards means even less.
I’d hate to be that guy. But, hey, Holden, keep in mind both of us are good as singles, but if we teamed up against Muscles, I’m sure you’ll have a chance.
With that in mind, I think you’re about ready to destroy your phone, so before you go, I just wanted to say one more thing.
Good luck champ.
…
Wait, shit, that was meant for Malone’s. Um…yeah…just…try not to lose to Muscles again, alright? Losing once is forgivable but if you lost twice I doubt anybody would take you seriously again.
Not that Muscles or I do now, but I’m just saying as a collective nobody would look at you as a threat.
Please don’t destroy your phone and send me the bill. Byyyye!”
------------------------------------------------
“Hello? Yeah, hey, I’m hoping to reach Muscles Malone?
Who is this? David Hunter, I’m a coworker of his. Yeah I needed to talk to him about this Thursday.
Yeah I’ll hold…
…
…
…
…
Fuck it, I’ll just go to voicemail.
…
…
…
Long ass voicemail…
…
…
Yeah hey—nope, still thinking…
…
Yes, hey, Muscles, it’s David Hunter. Yeah, you might know me as the guy who said I didn’t respect you last week. See, that was going off the idea that you wouldn’t really put in much, considering you’re a meathead with little skill and I kind of assumed you’d suck worse than a prostitute about to be fired.
Or Holden.
Yeah that guy sucks right?
Anyway, yeah, I underestimated you last week and that one was my b.
If it makes you feel better, not only do I kind of respect you, but you managed to win a championship. Feels great right?
Yeah it fuckin better.
Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t nice. Look, Muscles, I just wanted to broach a subject with you. As good as I am, and as more than decent as you are, together, the two of us could become almost great, certainly better than the nearly mediocre Holden. Not that you need my help, or, quite frankly, I need yours, but I’m just broaching the subject that…maybe we could team up and eliminate Holden, then focus on each other?
…
…
…
Yeah I figured that wouldn’t fly either. If you said yes than feel free to delete this voicemail and I will see you Thursday to discuss some plans.
Yeah…
…
…
…
…god what an asshole…
…
…
So, yeah, Malone, assuming you said no, I’m just gonna be straight with you, something I...think you’re used to.
I still don’t really like you. As much as the prospect of making the match easier is, I still would rather destroy you and win by myself than ever say I’m teaming up with you.
Unless it’s a chick, in which case hey, hook a brother up, right?
Right?
No?
That’s fine, not my fault you need so many ladies to make up for your small package.
Speaking of which, I spoke to Holden earlier and he seemed to really have it out for you. He said stuff like you’re a horrible wrestler or a paper champion and that losing to you is the worst thing he’s ever done.
I spoke to his voicemail, so it seemed pretty standard, but I can sense it in his voice that he’d rather quit the company and move countries before wasting his time facing you in a match. Imagine being that horrible? Imagine lucking out that hard that a guy wants to leave the country?
You should play the lottery Malone. Unrelated, just a side note.
Hey, if you didn’t delete this message and are staying on and listening to this than first of all: thanks man, that really means a lot that you’d listen to another man’s voice like that for no reason. And second of all: I won’t mince words here.
You aren’t winning again.
I can joke all day about you or Holden, and it’s fun to do, sure, but when it comes down to that ring, the only thing I care about is pounding somebody’s face until they look like one of those zombies that danced on the last Trauma.
The only thing I care about is walking out with that championship and moving on to the next best thing while making all the money I can.
You might think you’re hot shit because you lucked out and made the no-name lose consciousness for three seconds, but if you think the same will happen with me, than unfortunately, I have some bad news for you.
I don’t make mistakes twice.
Good luck…former champ…
…
…
…wait, shit, I mixed them up again.
Um…
…
…
Fuck it—”
----------------------------------------------------
David Hunter is in a well-lit metal room, powered by the energy saving ability and white colored intensity of Feiss* LED light bulbs.
Feiss: at least they’re not Sylvania.*
The two-way mirror that anybody who’s seen a cop-show would know is all that David has to look at besides the well-cleaned metal floor or table.
He waves at the mirror, his hands handcuffed together.
The lone door soon opens, allowing a man in a simple dark blue suit with a red tie to enter. He has a manila folder, which he places on the table. He opens it and looks over at David.
David narrows his eyes at this man, adjusting to the whiteness of the Feiss* bulbs above him.
“Fuck me if I’m wrong but is that an Evans I spot?” he asks.
The man in the suit chuckles a bit, his smile breaking through his exterior. He sits down in a chair opposite of David, relaxing a bit.
The man speaks, “Yes sir. I’ve heard a lot about you Mr. Hunter—”
“David, if you please,” David interrupts.
“Right, David, my apologies. I’ve heard a lot about you David, but to meet you in person…wow…”
David offers his right hand to the man, a task proven difficult by his handcuffs. Mr. Evans complies, shaking the hand. Once they’re done, they both relax back in their chairs.
“I know that this is usually where you ask questions and I answer, but would you mind if I throw one out there? It’s a bit personal, but I’m way too curious,” David says.
Mr. Evans shrugs, waving a hand for David to continue.
“What the hell is an Evans doing working for The Others? Sorry if that sounds crass or something, but after you all kind of migrated here, your dad and mom stuck with Google while your sister decided to try out the Peacekeepers. How’s she doing, by the way?” he asks.
“Turns out she’s actually really good with a gun. That friend of yours? What was it, Argile?” Mr. Evans asks.
“Argit,” David says, still jovial.
“Right, Argit. They actually recently put her in leadership to get him back. Turns out Mr. O’Connell went a bit rogue when helping out your dad. Sorry, we’re not supposed to mention him, that’s on me,” Mr. Evans says.
David chuckles a bit, waving it off with his handcuffed hands.
“Nah, its fine. Uncle Rick can handle it. Kudos to her though,” he says.
“Right,” Mr. Evans says. “But uh…I went to law school when I came here and eventually got an offer from these guys. I didn’t know the extent of it but, hey…can’t say it isn’t fun. So…would you mind answering a few questions?”
David nods once.
“By all means.”
“Great,” Mr. Evans starts. “So then, Mr. David Hunter—sorry, mandatory to start out with your full name—born in Florida, biological parents are dead, adopted by Jack Hunter—again, sorry, mandatory—and Carlene Hunter, Carlene dead, father remarried to Lydia Hunter née Deetz, now presently on both the Council and Peacekeepers’ watch lists for attempted interference with another dimension and an attempt at illegal dimension crossing. That sound right?”
David looks up at ceiling, his mouth open a bit. After a few more seconds, he closes it and looks at Mr. Evans.
“You’re missing a few details in there but I think you got it,” he asks.
“Excellent. So, David, we didn’t bring you in here for all of that other stuff. Quite frankly, we understand wanting to change somebody’s destiny. Fate’s not a nice guy, we’ve had dinner with him last week and he stiffed us on the bill. We also understand wanting to get the hell out. Honestly, this dimension sucks. I’ve always found Middleton to be fun, if not a bit dangerous at times,” Mr. Evans says.
“I’ve always been a Remnant man myself,” David responds.
“Yes, exactly, we all have our favorites. The thing is David…we’re here to talk about your meeting with one Mr. Mercury Black. He must mean a lot to you if you were willing to break your probation just to talk to him.”
David shakes his head, playing off how serious Mr. Evans was as a joke.
“Yeah, we go back a bit. I used to work with him in Remnant before the school fell. Would’ve stuck around too if Dad didn’t pull me out when he did. Fucker…would’ve loved to make some big money,” he says.
“You mean working for Salem?” Mr. Evans asks.
David looks away, cracking his neck and releasing a sigh.
“Look, I didn’t know he was one of Salem’s boys, alright? As far as I could tell he was working for one of the hottest—pun intended—chicks this side of Azarath,” he says.
“But you were willing to keep working with him, even now, knowing what your fate would’ve been? Your dad knew, which is why he brought you home,” Mr. Evans says.
“Home?” David asks, accompanying it with a snort. “Please. I haven’t had a home since I was seventeen. No offense Mr. Evans, but if I really wanted a lecture, I would’ve let Uncle Rick take me instead.”
Mr. Evans snaps, pointing at David.
“But you didn’t. You cashed in your last favor to be interrogated by us. Why? Because you knew you’d be able to walk out and go back to that shitty apartment by the end of the day? Don’t get me wrong, David, you will, you’re cooperative and smart enough to know that, but you specifically requested to be taken in by us. That takes a lot of gall. So tell me David…what were you and Mr. Black talking about?”
David once again tries to laugh it up, but it doesn’t last long enough to be taken as more than a nervous tick.
“All we did was talk about how he got into this new gang. Besides that it was catching up on things. Turns out he got invited over by this guy who was looking for a crew. It was a good enough investment where he could afford to lose Salem for a bit. He didn’t tell me names or specifics. He was wondering if I was interested, but when I told him I was putting the jobs on hold for the wrestling career, he waved it off and we started talking about Emerald.”
“Miss Sustrai, yes?” Mr. Evans asks, but doesn’t wait for David to respond. “Know why she wasn’t brought over?”
David huffs, looking around the room before focusing on Mr. Evans
“Ryan, who the fuck is this guy? He’s got Uncle Rick, Dad, the Council, the Peacekeepers, and now the Others spooked and haulin ass. The fact that he’s got you guys involved means he’s more than just an escapee from the Null Void,” David says.
Mr. Evans closes David’s file, standing up and looking down at him.
“Unless you want to unretire and get back involved, I can’t tell you that. Even still, you’d be doing so under the Others’ jurisdiction, which I know you don’t want. What was it you said, you’d rather have sex with Mother than join us?” Mr. Evans asks.
“I didn’t say ‘have sex’, but yeah,” David says.
“That’s what I thought. You and Mercury never once exchanged business cards, names, addresses, dates, locations, anything at all besides pleasantries and your recent endeavors?” Mr. Evans asks once more.
“No!” David actually exclaims.
“Great. Thank you for the assistance Mr. Hunter—”
“It’s David!” David says, standing up.
All Mr. Evans does it smile, shaking his head and pushing his seat in. He grabs the manila folder, closing it up and heading towards the door.
“Right…David…” he says. “Just sit tight, we’ll have you out in no time. We’ve put a week-long mandate that you’re not tp be questioned about what happened here by anybody. Your probation stands until the time limit set by the Council expires. From then, we’ll keep in touch if we need anything else.”
Once the door is opened and closed—Mr. Evans having left—David sits back down, looking around at the Feiss* powered light bulb room. Eventually, he leans back in his chair, his mouth agape, stuck in though.
*This roleplay was not sponsored and has no affiliation with Murray-Feiss, any light bulb, or any light bulb associated products they sell.
