Trouble in Paradise

[Stu]

*** BARTHOLOMEW “BRAWLER” BECKETT stalks through the backstage area, with TERRY SCHNEIDER and MIKE THE CAMERA MAN hot on his heels. Beckett looks thoroughly pissed as he tries to ignore the dogged interviewer in his wake and makes his way to the catering tables. ***

TS: “... scheduled to be part of the big 8-man battle royal for the Light Heavyweight Championship. What are your thoughts on this upcoming match?”

BB: *** trying to fix a plate of food. *** “My thoughts are that I am tired of being forced to defend myself before your pathetic, useless pen. As I have clearly stated before, I have been swindled at every opportunity from my rightful place as champion. I assume there will be similar miscarriages of justice this time around, as well, unless Black is brought to terms. Now, go away. I would like to eat, and the very idea of your presence makes me nauseous, let alone your scabrous presence.”

TS: “One more, Mr. Beckett: rumors have been circulating about growing tensions within the Union. Is there any truth to these rumors?”

BB: “I … will … end your writing career … with this bread knife. Go. Away.”

*** As an alarmed looking Terry Schneider backs away cautiously, the camera man also backs away but keeps filming. Beckett slaps a bit of hash onto his plate, then growls and tosses the plate into the big bowl of French dip. As Beckett shoves past the camera, he can be heard to mumble, “... falling apart … -wonder he’s named ‘Spoils’ … -’s fault entirely …” Then he stops. The camera follows his gaze to DERRICK ARZON, who is just sitting down to his own plate of food: a chicken salad sandwich, pile of baked potato chips, baked beans, and a can of Pepsi. A wicked smile spreads across Beckett’s face like a plague. He slowly, deliberately walks over and stands over Arzon, across the table from him, looming over the poor innocent plate of food. Arzon glares up at the intruder. ***

DA: “What do you want now, Beckett?”

*** Without a word, Beckett sticks the index finger of his right hand through Arzon’s sandwich. He then scoops some of the baked beans up and drops them in Arzon’s lap. Arzon is smouldering now, but stays still. Finally, Beckett takes the can of Pepsi,shakes it thoroughly, and opens it, spraying it into Arzon’s face and then dumping the contents onto Arzon’s head and lunch. ***

BB: “Do something.”

***Arzon explodes from his seat and all but throws the table next to him aside, crashing his body into Beckett in what can only be an effort to tear his way straight through the Englishman! Beckett slings a nearby napkin dispenser up and into Arzon's face, trying to disorient the enraged young man, and the two are carried backward by Arzon's momentum and into a table of food. Arzon and Beckett trade furious blows and roll their way across the table, each trying to stay on top and secure an advantage. Two of the nearby serving staff try vainly to break the two men apart. Arzon and Beckett both pause momentarily to shove the catering staff aside. One of the staff slaps hard against the back wall, the other trips and falls backward into an open food warmer. Beckett claws at Arzon's nose and eyes as Arzon throws fists into Beckett's stomach. Beckett reaches behind him and grabs a ladle by the handle, then jabs the handle into Arzon's throat. Arzon breaks from his attack and grabs his throat as Beckett catches his breath and glares daggers into Arzon. Beckett reaches out to grab Arzon by the throat and strangle him. Arzon recovers in time and drops himself into a crouch, grabs Beckett by the waist with both arms and lifts, bringing Beckett around in a belly-to-belly suplex through the table! Security is finally on the on scene and Beckett and Arzon are seperated, kicking and swearing at each other and taken to opposite sides of the building.***