Marc and KK in the principal's office

**King Krimsin** Sat May 23, 2015 12:26 am

The camera cuts to the familiar backstage office of “Chef” Shepherd Blue. The shot is in tight on the cocksure Chef, sitting at his desk, casually flipping through papers, looking dapper but unamused. He is seen nonchalantly leafing through pages of documents, scanning in silence for a few seconds. Then, a knock is heard at the door, prompting him to calmly set the papers down on the desk. He slowly reaches up to removes his glasses, and calls cooly, dryly, to whomever it is at the door.

Chef : Yeah!

He sets his glasses down on the desk. Then, resting both elbows on the desk, he folds his hands in front of him and stares off camera. He begins s glowering reproachfully at the unidentified, expected, guest, or guests; he wears a look on his face like a parent who has just returned home for work, to find that their child has gotten a failing grade in school.

Chef : You two...

He shakes his head in disapproval, and watches as the they make their way into the shot. Striding into the shot, each taking their place in front of Chef’s desk, are Marcurcio the Mauve, and his humungous tag-along, King Krimsin. King stands, nostrils flaring, chest and arms clearly flexed, fists clenched at his side, scowling scathingly in Chef’s direction. Paradoxically, Marcurcio’s posture is quite professional; his arms are folded down in front of himself with his left hand resting around his right wrist, as he, respectfully, wears a look of expectant curiosity.

Chef remains seated, hands still folded lazily in front of him, and clicks his tongue. For several long seconds, he stares back and forth between the two, apparently waiting for one of them to speak. However, both men remain postured; either they don’t take his cue, or they just don’t have anything to say. Finally, after another few seconds, Chef breaks the silence in a tone that clearly suggests he is holding back some degree of anger or frustration.

Chef : Well....

You guys have anything to say for yourselves!?

Eyes wide, Chef continues staring at them, beckoning a response. Marcurcio quickly obliges.

Marcurcio : What would you -like- us to say, Mr. Blue..?

The earnest, candid, and almost whimsical manner in which Marc replies to the GM very nearly causes the latter to completely lose his cool. He shuts his eyes tightly for a second, wrings his hands together, and clinches his teeth. Then, quickly, he steadies the ship, and inquires again with a forced calm.

Chef : Okay... So your stance on this is “We have no idea why you’ve called us here,” then??

Marcurcio’s physical stance and tone of voice don’t waiver. Although, he chuckles a bit, playfully, in his rich baritone, before replying.

Marcurcio : Heh, heh... No sir! We know exactly why you have called us here.

Several more seconds of silence pass, as Chef glares frustratedly, expectantly at Marcurcio.

Chef : ... AND?!?

Marcurcio seems to take a slight amount of offense to the rise in Chef’s voice. King Krimsin, however, almost comes straight out of his giant red boots. He swings both of his giant arms up, from his side, to just above chest level, before slamming them down onto the desk in pure, unbridled rage; the impact sends various desk items flying, knocking everything, that didn’t take flight, over into a heap in the middle of the desk. Chef leaps to his feet, terrified, arms out front in a defensive posture.

His face turns redder than his boots, and he spits a bit, as he roars tempestuously at his General Manager.

King Krimsin : AND, HOPEFULLY, SO DO YOU!!

Marc nonchalantly reaches out a hand, to quell the beast, and Chef, just as quickly as he had begun to cower, snaps to a tension, sticking his chest out. He takes a step forward, looking daggers at King Krimsin, also red in the face.

Chef goes to speak, but is cut off by Marc. Marc’s voice has become a little harder, a little deeper, and his smile has become more curt.

Marcurcio : Forgive him. You have called us here in light of our assault on Tom Midas.

Chef’s angry, cocksure, glare switches to Marcurcio, as King Krimsin stands back to a tension as well. He snaps a reply.

Chef : Wrong! I called you guys in here cuz you’re [censored] CRAZY!!

Who the HELL do you think you guys are, huh!?

Chef’s angry gaze shifts from one to the other. Marc, as usual, is ready for the speedy reply, but this time Chef cuts him off.

Know what!? Don’t even answer that.. Cuz I don’t give a damn who, or WHAT, you think you are!

But I know what you are, NOT! You are NOT very smart! [Censored]...? Sure. But, smart? I oughtta throw YOUR ASS OUT ON THE STREET!!

Chef points angrily at King Krimsin. Marcurcio, again, tries to speak, but Chef, again, cuts him off.

You’re both SUSPENDED!! You will be escorted from the building, and you are BARRED from even entering the building next week!

Marcurcio’s face drops. However, he rights it quickly, and shoots a look at King Krimsin. The look seems to temporarily leash his ire.

Then... At Chasing Glory, You, King Krimsin, will have a match with Zack Deathlock!

Not just any match, either! You will take on Zack Deathlock in a Hell In A Cell Match!!!

The mood of both men improve dramatically, despite Chef announcing the news to them as a form of punishment. Marc gives a chuckle.

Marcurcio : Ha ha! Huzzah! Huzzah! A Hell In A Cell Match!?!

Marc, glowing, turns to King Krimsin.

That will make the -perfect- battlefield upon which to atone for the gods!!

Chef feigns a shared chuckle with the two. Growing visibly angrier by the second, he then interrupts their celebration in a very matter-of-fact, and spiteful, tone of voice.

Chef : Ha ha ha... And, if you lose? You will drop to oh-and-two, here in AXN...

Oh! Haha... -And- you will be fired...

Both of you...

Chef gives a nod to someone off camera, and then returns the downright violent stares he is receiving from Marc and King Krimsin.

A mere second later, five, large, security personal scurry into the shot. They each take positions around both Marc, and Krimsin, however don’t put their hands on them just yet. They look, uneasily, back and forth between each other, Chef, and the two men they may be tasked with physically removing.

Marc leans in a little closer, over the desk. His tone is sincere, level-headed, and every bit as matter-of-fact as Chef’s; there is a distinct lack of the spite that Chef’s tone carried with it. However, he wears a face painted, literally and figuratively, with seething rage.

Marcurcio : You’ve just made our day. Thank you -very- much, Mr. Blue.

With that, Marc turns on his heel, toward the door. A stare from he to King Krimsin prompts the latter to do the same, and they both make their way out of the shot; all the while, security follows them timidly, but closely.

The shot closes on Chef, his face fixed in a scowl, as he watches the men leave his office.