Massacre #11: Ground Zero (Layton & Fenric)

We're on a boat! A.J Morales and Smith Jones declare war on the Survivors while Minka Carter's warpath continues and Adam Fenric contends with The Lynx in our main event...
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DJS
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Joined: Wed Jul 21, 2010 5:37 pm
Location: Where the English people live.
Characters Handled: Emery Layton
Adam Fenric
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Massacre #11: Ground Zero (Layton & Fenric)

Postby DJS » Tue May 09, 2017 11:17 am

The loud, echoing clop of heels make their way back and forth, stopping every few seconds for a very short delay. It is the sound of pacing. Controlled, absent-minded pacing. We pan up as Amy Taylor taps away at her phone. This was the meeting place. She said right here, right now...and they're late. She sighs, looking to each end of the harbor, for any sign. Its not until some slowly-rising, impatient skidding comes closer and closer towards her in the form of a muddy, overworked Range Rover. It then stops, and turns, stumbling backwards into what appears to be the last parking space in area. Amy looks to the side, as she hears the car door open and what sounds like pots and pans fall out the back followed by annoyed muttering. Door closes and carrying her bag on her shoulder comes Emery Layton, huge, cheesy grin on her face as she sees Amy stood there and skips along happily.

EMERY LAYTON:
Alright, Boss? What's the craic? How's bits?

She goes to give Amy a light bro-punch on the arm but it ends up being much harder than she anticipated. Em retracts apologetically as Amy rubs her arm.

AMY TAYLOR:
You're late.

EMERY LAYTON:
I know. Sorry. I stopped off at a gas station and got chatting. Hey, so where do I park my car? Do I just sort of...leave it?

AMY TAYLOR:
Don't worry about that, I'll have it sorted. Where's Adam, didn't he come with you?

EMERY LAYTON:
Pfft. No.

AMY TAYLOR:
You don't travel together? How does he even get here?

EMERY LAYTON:
Y'know...I'm actually not sure. He just kinda appears, really.

AMY TAYLOR:
He's supposed to be here, too.

EMERY LAYTON:
Have you tried turning the lights out and saying his name three times into the mirror?

AMY TAYLOR:
No, but I'm gonna call him.

And so she does. But as she puts her phone to her ear, we hear a very generic iPhone tone in the distance approaches, followed by a very audible beep to say 'ignore'. They both look up to the source of the noise, as Adam Fenric strolls thoughtfully through towards the two of them. He has a suitcase and is wearing a very smart suit and a constantly furrowed brow.

ADAM FENRIC:
There is no point calling me, I'm here.

EMERY LAYTON:
I think we just willed you into existence. Also hold on a minute, you have a phone? And Amy has your number?

ADAM FENRIC:
Yes. She is my manager. It's a requirement.

EMERY LAYTON:
Can I have it?

ADAM FENRIC:
No.

AMY TAYLOR:
Yes.

ADAM FENRIC:
What?

AMY TAYLOR:
You're tag team partners. You need to be contactable to each other. Go on.

Adam grumbles as Em passes him her really battered, cheap Xperia phone and he begins to tap his number in. And then hands it back. Em shakes her head.

EMERY LAYTON:
You're not gonna take mine?

ADAM FENRIC:
I already have yours.

EMERY LAYTON:
Err...okay. Actually, no, I'm not gonna let that slide. How do you already have it?

ADAM FENRIC:
I took it down quickly the other day when you gave it to AJ Morales. You were somewhat harder to understand through the childish laughter but I managed it.

Em looks down and scratches the back of her neck. She really wants to think of something clever, but she's got absolutely nothing. Amy clasps her hands together.

AMY TAYLOR:
Moving on...forget what you know. We're at ground zero. Think of this as day one, guys. If you two are going to keep those titles you need to function as a team, you need to be able to communicate. I've studied your matches and there's potential in both of you. Adam, you're cunning and you're one of the best technicians in XWA. Emery, you're world-traveled and you do something innovative every single night. All of that is great, but we need to figure out how to fit that into a neat little package and work in cohesion. Now, I've never managed a tag team before so this'll be learning experience for all of us, but I have worked with difficult people in the past, so it shouldn't be an issue.

EMERY LAYTON:
'Difficult people'?

ADAM FENRIC:
She means you.

EMERY LAYTON:
What? She clearly means you. You ever listen to yourself?

ADAM FENRIC:
I have. I happen to think I'm quite clear. Perhaps if I don't fit your criteria, I could always start talking about 'knowing apples from eggs' and 'bringing the savage craic' while I dance to fans' chants. Badly. because that's how you talk.

AMY TAYLOR:
I meant in general, actually. Having said that, you do have your moments, Adam.

Em points at Adam.

EMERY LAYTON:
Ha! Get wrecked.

AMY TAYLOR:
You don't often help matters, Emery.

EMERY LAYTON:
Oh.

AMY TAYLOR:
Which is why I need you both to work together. Put aside whatever issues you have with each other. You keep acting the way you do, you may as well just let the Survivors beat you up because you won't be strong enough of a unit to take them on. Tag titles or no, being a team relies on your trust.

ADAM FENRIC:
I see your logic.

EMERY LAYTON:
Yeah, makes sense I guess.

Amy crosses her arms and nods.

AMY TAYLOR:
Excellent. Only way is up, guys. Now, shall we board?

EMERY LAYTON:
Wait a sec...

Em opens her bag, zipping across and putting her hand in. After a few seconds of fumbling, she pulls it out- the Pirate Hat. Like she's slowly placing a crown, she plants it on her head and tightens it.

EMERY LAYTON:
...It's time.

As she walks off, she calls to someone nearby-

EMERY LAYTON:
Oi, fella. Help me catch that pigeon over there, I couldn't find a parrot...

Adam looks to Amy, an unimpressed, furrow brow still present.

ADAM FENRIC:
"Work together," you say.

AMY TAYLOR:
Have some patience. You're already champions. You guys have more in common than you think.

Adam and Amy begin to board. We complete the segment on the image of Emery Layton wearing a pirate hat chasing a pigeon on the side of the harbor.
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