#8.1.13

Make a new script as shown and place it on your Quad.

Run your game. Try to go up down left right and diagonal.

It is pretty cool. It feels like the ship is moving through space, but this seem is a little weird and I might try one of the other pngs instead.

Today, I laid on the floor of my closet and cried into my knees.

Because today, Louis Tomlinson achieved his childhood dream of becoming a professional football player. He is now signed to play with Doncaster Rovers in charity games to support Bluebell Wood Children Hospice.

As RAW came to the Main Event portion of the night the ring was seen once again set up for a contract signing. It had been a long time since anything other than a match had taken place at the top of the final RAW hour, and the crowd was alive with excitement and energy as Alberto Del Rio came to the ring. The General Manager picked up a microphone and the contract that was going to be signed simultaneously, leafing through the contract to make sure everything was in order.

Cody Rhodes’ music hit when it became clear that the General Manager had nothing to say just yet. The generational superstar was greeted by a chorus of cheers from the crowd, dressed semi-formally in a dark blue blazer with a light blue button down underneath and matching shoes and pants. Even dressed down, he looked more like a businessman than a wrestler as he wiped his shoes on the apron before climbing into the ring. Shaking hands with Alberto, the two men exchanged a few words marked by smiles from both of them while they waited for the champion to join them in the ring.

They didn’t have to wait long, as Dean Ambrose’s music soon drowned out Cody’s. It was nearly drowned out itself by the explosion of boos and jeers from the crowd as he strolled out from the back in a t-shirt and a pair of worn down jeans, title slung over his shoulder. Trademark smirk in place as he made his way down to the ring, Dean ignored the fans and Alberto in kind as he entered the squared circle. Locking eyes with Cody, he raised the title over his head mutely, the other’s gaze following the gold into the air. When he finally lowered the title to set it on the table, the two men mirrored each other in sitting down and making themselves comfortable in the chairs provided.

A calm that most likely wouldn’t last long, as the two were already bickering at each other unheard by the masses. Looking between the two men, Alberto pursed his lips before raising his microphone to his lips and clearing his throat.

“Gentlemen.” He spoke shortly, effectively cutting off whatever conversation or argument had been taking place. Satisfied, he continued on. “This is the official contract signing for the WWE Championship match this Sunday at Money in the Bank.” A cheer rose up around the arena here and Alberto paused to allow the crowd it’s moment. “…Now, both of you have read the contract backstage, so let’s keep this short. Cody—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dean cut across Alberto’s attempts to move things along without incident, smirking despite his incredulous tone as he waved a hand at the other two men, having picked up his microphone. “That’s it? No boring opening narrative?”

“Would you prefer he tell us more things we all already know?” Cody snapped, raising an eyebrow and now wielding his own mic. After a brief pause, he nodded at the WWE title on the table, a smirk of his own appearing. “Or are you having second thoughts about signing your title away?”

“Look at you, Triple C. Still so determined, despite all the proof laying before you.” Dean commented, grinning and leaning forward as he addressed the other. “But I guess that just proves how crazy you really are, right buddy?”

“The only proof of anything here is that you’re good at mind games and distractions.”

“Really? Because to me, the last several weeks just scream that you lack focus. You couldn’t keep track of the count during our last match. You couldn’t even keep track of a five count against Pierce, and… What happened last week? I even tried to do you a favor and get you all focused up for Ziggler and you still couldn’t keep track of the match long enough to avoid losing.” The champion paused to tsk and shake his head, clearly enjoying the irritation on the other’s features. “You try, buddy, you try so hard but you just don’t have the focus. The control. To stand a chance of taking my title.”

“…Maybe you’re right.” Cody responded after a moment of silence, letting out a short laugh and tilting his head down to look at the mat. “Maybe I’m not focused enough. Not in matches that have no merit, at least. I mean, look at you. You get counted out and disqualified all the time and couldn’t give a shit—but you do it on purpose, isn’t that right? I just let my attention slip from the referee. This is different, though. I’ve thought about this for weeks… I mean, how couldn’t I? I’ve had you dogging my steps, playing your stupid mind games. Tripping me up at nearly every turn and twisting everything around at any given moment so I don’t know if I’m talking to my best friend…” Cody paused here as the crowd suddenly exploded into jeers at the acknowledgment, a smile crossing his lips as he looked up from the floor to glance out at the fans. “…Or a crazy bastard bent on fucking everything up. But I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? Because that’s all you can really do in the end, that’s your existence really… Fucking shit up.”

“You don’t have to tell me that you spend your free time obsessing over me, Crazy.” Dean replied, not bothered by the musings of the other. “I already know you want my di—”

“I hope you don’t mind, then,” Cody spoke over him, reaching into his blazer to pull out an entirely different contract and holding it up for both Dean and Alberto to see, “that I had my lawyer make a little… Adjustment to the match.”

“If this is your newest way of tricking me into letting you fu—”

“No count out. No disqualification.” The generational superstar once again spoke over his friend, determined to not be bothered by the normally maddening prods while at the same time not wanting them to voiced in full. “Seemed like a logical step for the match. We’ve already done the whole normal match thing… So why not add something, yeah? Takes care of my so-called focus issue… And any chance that you might finally accept the realization that I’m going to take that title from you and go for a cheap way to retain.”

Dean didn’t respond immediately, looking across the table at the other in silence. It seemed as though Cody had finally gotten the best of the champion in dropping the stipulation on him at the last possible moment. Taking in a slow breath, Dean stood up from his chair and paced to the edge of the ring, one hand rubbing the side of his face in a mixture of agitation and thought. Behind him, Cody reclined in his chair with a grin, watching the other for a moment before waving the contract and speaking.

“I understand if you have reservations, Psycho. Here,” Cody set the edited contract down on the table beside the original one as Dean turned toward him. Grabbing a pen, he gestured with it at Dean before turning back to sign both contracts, “generous soul that I am… I’ll leave the choice open for you.”

Finished signing each contract, he waited for Alberto to lean over and check that both were done properly. Once the General Manager, who had reluctantly opted to let the exchange run it’s own course, nodded his approval of the signatures Cody turned them so they were faced toward Dean with the pen laying across them. Standing then, he picked up the WWE Championship without a thought in his free hand and moved toward the champion. Shoving the title into Dean’s chest, Cody leaned so they were face to face, placing the microphone to his lips once more.

“Take your pick.” With that said, Cody backed up and went to pass him with clear intentions to leave the ring, cheers going up around the arena.

What happened next was unexpected. As Cody passed him, Dean turned to watch the other before reaching out to yank him around by the shoulder. In a flash, the champion had blasted Cody in the head with the WWE Championship, sending him crashing to the ground. Dropping the title to the mat next to the other, Dean turned and stalked to the table, glancing at the now alarmed Alberto with a smile before snatching up the “No Count Out, No Disqualification” contract and the pen and returning to where Cody lay.

As Alberto could be heard in the background yelling for a team of medics to come to the ring, cameras focused in on Dean as he knelt over his fallen ‘friend’. Cody could be seen to be bleeding profusely from a laceration on his head, eyes clenched shut as he pressed a hand to his forehead in pain. Dean knocked his hand away, however, shoving his own hand into Cody’s face and all but smothering the other. He was clearly gathering up as much of the generational superstar’s blood as he could onto his hand, not stopping the harsh treatment until he was satisfied.

At which point he smeared the blood right across the contract he’d chosen. Once most of the blood was off his hand and on the contract itself (particularly each page that required a signature or initial), Dean picked up the pen he had retrieved and went through the signing process himself. Finished, he lifted the contract and dangled it in front of Cody’s face, picking up a mic as he leaned close, the smile having never left his face.

“I want you to remember when you signed ths death wish, Coooody.” He spoke, laughter in his voice and completely lacking any concern or remorse for what he had done to his ‘friend.’ “I want you to remember Sunday when I’m in my element and destroying you bit by bit, you stupid masochistic bitch, that you asked for this.”

Dropping the microphone directly on Cody’s head, Dean grabbed the contract and his title, standing up as his music blared over the jeers and boos that filled the arena. Leaving the other as a bloody mess, he turned toward Alberto with that same smile. The General Manager had a look torn between alarm and disgust as the champion approached him, but didn’t back away. Without a word, Dean slapped the bloodied up contract into Alberto’s chest and wiped some of the blood on his hand on the man’s previously pristine suit.

As Dean took his leave, medics could be seen sliding into the ring to check on Cody who had rolled over and was in the process of lifting himself to his hands and knees. Blood ran down his face as he visibly fought against the pain and glared blearily at the retreating champion. Shoving the medics away as he made it to his knees, Cody blindly grabbed the microphone and raised it to his lips.

“Enjoy… Your last few days… As champion… You motherfucker.” Each pause marked another couple breaths to push back the pain of his head, but the words were sincere.

Throwing the microphone away, Cody could be seen once more shoving the medics off him as he started to attempt climbing to his feet. Alberto assisted him, but was soon shoved away as well as Cody stumbled forward toward the ropes before the ramp. Catching himself on them, he glared out at Dean who had stopped at the top of the ramp to raise his title in the air. A grin could still be seen on the champion’s features, and he raised his still bloody hand to examine with interest.