Post by Gurgen Hovhanissian on Sept 23, 2016 8:29:03 GMT -5
The scene opens to the insides of a badly lit bar. It is a bar that can only be considered trendy if the trend you’re talking about is biker movies. There’s little sound, just the random shuffling of feet, some laborious breathing and the hum of speakers that aren’t receiving any input.
Gurgen’s voice breaks the silence. He’s speaking Armenian. Within a second or two, his voice is toned down and a voice actor begins to provide a translation. They actually got someone with a deep rumbling voice to play the part of the deranged human grizzly.
“People always doubt me, always accuse me.”
The camera pans down. The floor proves to be covered in a thick layer of human bodies, arranged as if they have been tossed there by a careless giant who got tired of playing with them.
“You win by accident, they tell me. You don’t know what you’re doing in the ring anyway, they say. You had a few good matches, but lately, you suck, they say.”
The camera scans across the unmoving bodies until a big hairy fist shoots out of the tangled mass.
“So, Beast has to set them right.”
The owner of the hairy fist pushes aside the unconscious forms of several formidable men. The Beast rises, silhouetted against the lights over the bar, from the multitude.
“They think they can take the Beast … sucker punch him … catch him by surprise. Beast is dumb, after all, how good can he really be?”
Beast shoves aside one guy with a skull tattooed on his skull. He rolls down the slight incline formed by Beast’s victims.
“They’re wrong. Well, not about the dumb part, Beast really is very dumb.”
Beast steps from among the slain enemies. As he lands on his left leg, his knee buckles. He needs a moment to regain his stance.
The screen switches to a slow motion scene from the preceding brawl. We see the same skull-on-skull guy smash a bar stool to pieces on that very knee. The Beast produces a slowed down rumbling howl of pain but does not release the rapper wannabee whose neck he’s clutching.
“Beast sets them right. And every week it’s the same story.”
Beast steps over yet more battle fodder, towards the bar.
“Every week they tell Beast, Beast’s been lucky so far but this week … THIS WEEK … Beast is going to get his ass kicked.”
He reaches the bar and slams his fist down upon it. Several small drops of blood issue forth from a cut on the back of his hand. They make a crimson semi-arc on the bar.
We’re taken back to the brawl. Some guy we haven’t seen before thrusts a knife at Beast. Beast swats aside the knife, injuring his hand. Despite the, admittedly rather small, guy hanging from his other arm, he never the less manages to punch the knife-wielder squarely on the nose. The pace of the film slows down even further so we can truly bask in the glory of the man’s face being splattered with his own blood. Briefly the footage returns to regular speed. We hear someone proclaim that he feels like a freak on a leash but then knife boy goes flying into the laptop that serves as a sound system. The laptop tumbles to the floor behind the bar and the speakers are resigned to produce nothing but static from this point on.
We switch back to Beast, now seated at the bar.
“By Noah or Danny or … you … Vano. They’re sure Beast is going to get what’s coming to him.”
On-screen Beast demands whisky. When the bartender is slow in surrendering said item. Beast glances up at him menacingly. Even with his left eye swollen shut and a cut above that eye generously pouring blood down his face, he’s intimidating enough to force the bartender to comply.
We’re back at the brawl. The screen goes to extreme slow motion the instant a heavy steel tipped boot connects with ugly mug Beast calls a face. A mockery of the human form that would make Freddy Kruger have nightmares. It’s debatable if the cut adds or detracts from his charms, such as they are.
“Beast gets it, you know. You’re better trained than Beast. Hell, you’ve actually HAD training.”
Beast sends a big gulp from the bottle down his throat. He reaches into the beard and extracts a sorry bundle of misery. His little buddy is lying on his side. From the opposite thigh protrudes a shard of glass.
Brawl-Beast slaps aside a broken bottle, but not before it connects with his chest.
“You’re bigger than Beast. You’re stronger than Beast. You actually know what to do in a ring.”
Bottlecap lies on the bar, shivering. Ever so carefully Beast grabs the shard and pulls it from the wound. Bottlecap winces but makes no sound. He does squeak when Beast pours some whisky on his thigh. Too weak to move Bottlecap lets himself he placed, gently back into the beard. Beast stuffs a few salted peanuts in there, in case his little buddy feels up to eating solid food.
“By rights, you should make Beast your bitch, collared and chained to your belt.”
We’re back to the brawl. Some guy has yanked a chain from the light fixture over the pool table. He whips it around Beast’s neck.
The next narration no longer comes from voice-over Beast. The Beast seated at the bar directly addresses the camera, in English no less, “Beast no think that gonna work out.”
Flashback Beast wraps his paws around the chain and pulls. Despite his non trivial girth, the man holding the other end topples forward. Beast lowers his head and slams the top of his cranium into the man’s chin. We slow to ultra slow mo again. We get to appreciate an unknown, but definitely large number of tooth shards being expelled from the man’s mouth, along with the obligatory jet of blood.
Once again switching back to the present, Beast pours some whisky on the cut above his eye. With a hissing sound, he draws a quick breath through clenched teeth.
He speaks to the camera again, “Vano want briefcase? Vano come and get it. Beast no be hard to find, just follow the smell.”
He takes a swig from the bottle.
“That’s what these fuckers always say.”
He nods at the mangled pile.
“Now,” Beast says, taking a couple of good gulps from the bottle, “Beast here ride coming.”
A sweeping blue shine begins flashing on the walls of the bar.
A few more gulps head for the beastly belly.
“Vano excuse Beast now.”
The camera seems to be picked up. It traverses upward and to the left. As the beastly form in the center of the shot diminishes, we get a view of the bar’s doors. Officers of the law begin pouring through the front door, brandishing nightsticks, pepper spray and even a few pistols.
“But Vano remember, Beast no be hard to find.”
The arrangement of the city’s finest begin shouting a chorus of demands they seek Beast to acquiesce to.
“But Vano ask self,” Beast states as he raises his paws in the air in compliance with the coppers, “Do Vano really wanna find Beast? Bad things happen to those who do.”
The camera pans to floor, looking up at the human pile, currently being checked out by paramedics.
On the far wall, we see the shadow of the Beast kneel. He brings his paws to the back of his head and remains immobile.
For some reason the cops grow agitated all of a sudden. We hear the familiar zap if several Tasers being fired at once.
The Beast’s head slams into the floor just in front of the camera. His eyes seem dead. Even the lunacy has been zapped right out of them.
Bottlecap briefly emerges from his hiding place. He attempts to review his home by licking his face. But the Beast does nothing beyond adding drool to the thin coating of blood on the floor. Dejected, Bottlecap crawls deep into the beard.
The pigs pile on top of the Beast to cuff him. Beast and mouse are taken into custody.
The segment ends with cellphone footage of the same even. We see that Frank has been filming the whole deal thus far. The cops see him filming and, for good measure arrest him too. The feed abruptly cuts to black.
In a ghostly tone, Beast’s final two sentences are repeated.
Do Vano really wanna find Beast?
Bad things happen to those who do.
OOC: virtual cookie if you get the title
Gurgen’s voice breaks the silence. He’s speaking Armenian. Within a second or two, his voice is toned down and a voice actor begins to provide a translation. They actually got someone with a deep rumbling voice to play the part of the deranged human grizzly.
“People always doubt me, always accuse me.”
The camera pans down. The floor proves to be covered in a thick layer of human bodies, arranged as if they have been tossed there by a careless giant who got tired of playing with them.
“You win by accident, they tell me. You don’t know what you’re doing in the ring anyway, they say. You had a few good matches, but lately, you suck, they say.”
The camera scans across the unmoving bodies until a big hairy fist shoots out of the tangled mass.
“So, Beast has to set them right.”
The owner of the hairy fist pushes aside the unconscious forms of several formidable men. The Beast rises, silhouetted against the lights over the bar, from the multitude.
“They think they can take the Beast … sucker punch him … catch him by surprise. Beast is dumb, after all, how good can he really be?”
Beast shoves aside one guy with a skull tattooed on his skull. He rolls down the slight incline formed by Beast’s victims.
“They’re wrong. Well, not about the dumb part, Beast really is very dumb.”
Beast steps from among the slain enemies. As he lands on his left leg, his knee buckles. He needs a moment to regain his stance.
The screen switches to a slow motion scene from the preceding brawl. We see the same skull-on-skull guy smash a bar stool to pieces on that very knee. The Beast produces a slowed down rumbling howl of pain but does not release the rapper wannabee whose neck he’s clutching.
“Beast sets them right. And every week it’s the same story.”
Beast steps over yet more battle fodder, towards the bar.
“Every week they tell Beast, Beast’s been lucky so far but this week … THIS WEEK … Beast is going to get his ass kicked.”
He reaches the bar and slams his fist down upon it. Several small drops of blood issue forth from a cut on the back of his hand. They make a crimson semi-arc on the bar.
We’re taken back to the brawl. Some guy we haven’t seen before thrusts a knife at Beast. Beast swats aside the knife, injuring his hand. Despite the, admittedly rather small, guy hanging from his other arm, he never the less manages to punch the knife-wielder squarely on the nose. The pace of the film slows down even further so we can truly bask in the glory of the man’s face being splattered with his own blood. Briefly the footage returns to regular speed. We hear someone proclaim that he feels like a freak on a leash but then knife boy goes flying into the laptop that serves as a sound system. The laptop tumbles to the floor behind the bar and the speakers are resigned to produce nothing but static from this point on.
We switch back to Beast, now seated at the bar.
“By Noah or Danny or … you … Vano. They’re sure Beast is going to get what’s coming to him.”
On-screen Beast demands whisky. When the bartender is slow in surrendering said item. Beast glances up at him menacingly. Even with his left eye swollen shut and a cut above that eye generously pouring blood down his face, he’s intimidating enough to force the bartender to comply.
We’re back at the brawl. The screen goes to extreme slow motion the instant a heavy steel tipped boot connects with ugly mug Beast calls a face. A mockery of the human form that would make Freddy Kruger have nightmares. It’s debatable if the cut adds or detracts from his charms, such as they are.
“Beast gets it, you know. You’re better trained than Beast. Hell, you’ve actually HAD training.”
Beast sends a big gulp from the bottle down his throat. He reaches into the beard and extracts a sorry bundle of misery. His little buddy is lying on his side. From the opposite thigh protrudes a shard of glass.
Brawl-Beast slaps aside a broken bottle, but not before it connects with his chest.
“You’re bigger than Beast. You’re stronger than Beast. You actually know what to do in a ring.”
Bottlecap lies on the bar, shivering. Ever so carefully Beast grabs the shard and pulls it from the wound. Bottlecap winces but makes no sound. He does squeak when Beast pours some whisky on his thigh. Too weak to move Bottlecap lets himself he placed, gently back into the beard. Beast stuffs a few salted peanuts in there, in case his little buddy feels up to eating solid food.
“By rights, you should make Beast your bitch, collared and chained to your belt.”
We’re back to the brawl. Some guy has yanked a chain from the light fixture over the pool table. He whips it around Beast’s neck.
The next narration no longer comes from voice-over Beast. The Beast seated at the bar directly addresses the camera, in English no less, “Beast no think that gonna work out.”
Flashback Beast wraps his paws around the chain and pulls. Despite his non trivial girth, the man holding the other end topples forward. Beast lowers his head and slams the top of his cranium into the man’s chin. We slow to ultra slow mo again. We get to appreciate an unknown, but definitely large number of tooth shards being expelled from the man’s mouth, along with the obligatory jet of blood.
Once again switching back to the present, Beast pours some whisky on the cut above his eye. With a hissing sound, he draws a quick breath through clenched teeth.
He speaks to the camera again, “Vano want briefcase? Vano come and get it. Beast no be hard to find, just follow the smell.”
He takes a swig from the bottle.
“That’s what these fuckers always say.”
He nods at the mangled pile.
“Now,” Beast says, taking a couple of good gulps from the bottle, “Beast here ride coming.”
A sweeping blue shine begins flashing on the walls of the bar.
A few more gulps head for the beastly belly.
“Vano excuse Beast now.”
The camera seems to be picked up. It traverses upward and to the left. As the beastly form in the center of the shot diminishes, we get a view of the bar’s doors. Officers of the law begin pouring through the front door, brandishing nightsticks, pepper spray and even a few pistols.
“But Vano remember, Beast no be hard to find.”
The arrangement of the city’s finest begin shouting a chorus of demands they seek Beast to acquiesce to.
“But Vano ask self,” Beast states as he raises his paws in the air in compliance with the coppers, “Do Vano really wanna find Beast? Bad things happen to those who do.”
The camera pans to floor, looking up at the human pile, currently being checked out by paramedics.
On the far wall, we see the shadow of the Beast kneel. He brings his paws to the back of his head and remains immobile.
For some reason the cops grow agitated all of a sudden. We hear the familiar zap if several Tasers being fired at once.
The Beast’s head slams into the floor just in front of the camera. His eyes seem dead. Even the lunacy has been zapped right out of them.
Bottlecap briefly emerges from his hiding place. He attempts to review his home by licking his face. But the Beast does nothing beyond adding drool to the thin coating of blood on the floor. Dejected, Bottlecap crawls deep into the beard.
The pigs pile on top of the Beast to cuff him. Beast and mouse are taken into custody.
The segment ends with cellphone footage of the same even. We see that Frank has been filming the whole deal thus far. The cops see him filming and, for good measure arrest him too. The feed abruptly cuts to black.
In a ghostly tone, Beast’s final two sentences are repeated.
Do Vano really wanna find Beast?
Bad things happen to those who do.
OOC: virtual cookie if you get the title