RP Author: Hugh Merus
There is a rap rap rapping on my chamber door...er, I mean, upon the vents that circulate centralized heating and cooling through the Sanatorium. Hugh Merus, the larger of the two Spooky Scary Skeletons, tapped upon the concrete walls and clicking his fingers against the vents to try and get the attention of his tag team partner, Mike Lavicle, in the adjacent cell.
Hugh Merus:
Pssst...Hey. Mikey...Pssst...Are you there Mikey?
We pane around to the cell that contains Mike Lavicle. The taller, a bit lankier, yet still rather chunky Skellie boy. Not actual skeletons of course. If you have to put a bullet to my head and kill kayfabe like that. They were just men in Spirit Halloween grade skeleton costumes. But I digress, if you could see Mike blink through his lucha mask, he’d be blinking awake. As he stretches his body away from sleep.
Mike Lavicle:
Hnnnrgh. What?
We’re going to assume you’re enough of an adult to tell that when Mike speaks, we’re seeing Lavicle. And when Hugh speaks, we’re seeing Merus. This narrator would rather not waste your time exhaustively explaining back and forth where the camera view lies. Deal?
Hugh Merus:
Pssst…Hey,where are we?
Hugh looks around. Confusion furrowing his brow hidden beneath his skullcap and mask.
Mike Lavicle:
Sigh...World Wrestling Headquarters Sanatorium, Hugh. They think we’re crazy. Even though we’re skeletons. In the flesh...err, bone.
Mike slaps at his chest and thighs, just checking to make sure that he’s still real. Shrugging his shoulders against any other logical discrepancy that should tell him how wrong he really is.
Hugh Merus:
But Mike...if we’re really skeletons….How are we talking? Aren’t our lungs like...evaporated?
The quizzical nature of his partner was certainly grating to the more straight laced (jacketed?) Lavicle. He answered in kind with mutual confusion.
Mike Lavicle:
E-Evaporated? Organs don’t evacuate, Hugh. Jesus Christ.
Hugh Merus:
GASP. You said his name!
Merus clapped his hands in schoolgirl delight.
Mike Lavicle:
Wha-who? Jesus Christ?
Clapping intensifies.
Hugh Merus:
GASP. YOU SAID IT AGAIN. The Great Skeleton in the Sky!
There is a pause in the dialogue. Hugh’s words echo within the mind of Mike like a reverberating well...echo. Mike struggles to respond.
Mike Lavicle:
I can’t-You what...my...my brain.
This actually causes Mike to sit up from his bed. The accommodations are of course, lacking at this stage in their “careers”. So the hardened pressure pads of the aged mattress groaned in protest to the movement of its charge. It had been explained to the Spooky Scary Skeletons that if they won matches, their privileges and amenities would improve in quality. Lose...and less savory things would happen.
Hugh Merus:
Yeah yeah! Like, our brains. Aren’t those worm food now? How are we able to well...DO anything?
With each new question, it seemed like Hugh’s voice cracked harder and squeaked louder. Like a child being exposed to Disneyland for the first time. Hugh was probably a lot better suited to have a good time in this hellscape than his brother Mike.
Mike Lavicle:
Sigh...It’s magic, Mike. Happy? We’re magical.
The squeal of joy was profound. Yes, Hugh Merus was ecstatic.
Hugh Merus:
Wow….Magical, Spooky, Scary, Skeletons. Hey. Whatever happened to our Necrosis?
As if on queue, the whiplash could be heard from a distance. Accompanied by the creaking of some nebulous engine of torture, and possibly the singing or branding of metal on flesh. The vocal exclamations of The Necrosis emanated through the halls of the Sanatorium as certainly someone was having their fun with her.
Necrosis:
OOOWWOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Hwahahahah! OOH! OOCH! OUCH! HARDER!
Upon further speculation, it seems like Dr. Sly isn’t the only one having their fun.
Hugh Merus:
On second thought...I don’t think I wanna know what they’re doing to her…
Probably for the best. Both Merus & Clavicle nod their heads in unison, without realizing that the other is doing the same in kind.
Mike Lavicle:
Good boy. Now get some rest. You need to recharge your magic so we can beat John Blade and Zach at the next episode of Dystopia. We’re making our debut. So this match is like, really important. I think.
Mike helped emote some of his explanatory feelings with hand gestures as if he was talking someone through what their mindset should be. Even though Hugh couldn’t actually see the actions. The inflection provided helped bring the context. Conjugate the verb. Soliloquy. Fancy words.
Hugh Merus:
Wow! John Blade! With a name like that, I bet he has knives for arms. Wicked cool.
Hugh’s head swirls with images of fighting a giant of a man with swords replacing his arms. You definitely wouldn’t want to be suplexed by a man like that. No sir. Merus lets out a giggle at the idea. He almost...relishes the thought of what kind of pain he could be brought through. Maybe he has more in common with the Necrosis than he’s willing to admit.
Mike Lavicle:
Why on Earth do you think-
Before Mike can even finish his protest, the excitement takes hold of Hugh. He begins excitedly imagining what ELSE could be in store for their upcoming contest based on what little he’s heard of his opponents.
Hugh Merus:
AND I remember Zach! That’s the guy who Cloud thinks he is due to a weird case of amnesia and the effects of MAKO poisoning. When in reality he was just a lowly grunt and not ACTUALLY a member of SOLDIER.
Another long, awkward pause. Hugh clearly lost in his own thoughts. Mike’s jaw hanging open, pushing against the chin strap of his luchador mask, struggling to articulate exactly how he can respond to such utter psychosis.
Mike Lavicle:
...You are a sad disturbing little man.
The larger skeleton man is utterly unphased by this declaration.
Hugh Merus:
Knife Hands & SOLDIER Boy...Wow...What a time to not be alive!
Hugh shakes his fists excitedly. Never more enthused to be apart of a wrestling brand he didn’t realize he was even in until moments prior. To hurt and be hurt with impunity. This was definitely his kinda place. While Mike slammed his head back down on the straw pillow, a snapping sound scrapes against the stone flooring as the upper legs of the bed fold in on themselves and cause Lavicle to slowly and comically slide down until he clunks against the wall behind him.
Mike Lavicle:
Somebody kill me...again.
At the very least, you can believe the Spooky Scary Skeletons will want to win this match to get a replacement hospital bed for Mike...or maybe Hugh might sign himself up for the Sly Special treatment that the Necrosis is getting. Either way.