WELCOME TO CUBA;; WWER match RP

[The Human Cancer]

WELCOME TO CUBA

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Upon winning his debut WWER match, Scott Hall decided it was time to take a trip... Home; and not any home, the motherland, Cuba. He had friends, family.. Hell, even a totalitarianism government he missed. Sadly, US citizens are not allowed to travel to Cuba... Legally, which lead to Scott meeting some friends of his on international waters, and getting onto their rinky-dink fishing boat. Upon arrival to his native land, Scott was welcomed with open arms by the denizens of the island as a celebrity. Things were going good, that is, until the government found out he was a citizen of the United States...

TO JAIL WITH HIM![/FONT]

It was like any other day on the island; the sun was out, the air was mild, the cigars were fresh. It was a day in paradise, or at least it was the nicest it could get with a dictator in power. Scott, along with his cousins Manolo and Miguel, sat at a card table outside of their family bistro on the dirt street puffing away on Cuban stogies and drinking rum. All was going nice; Miguel was winning in poker, but no one cared about losing money, it was all about the fun. Without much notice, a forest-green truck came barreling down the dry road, kicking up dust in it's path. As it came to the bistro, it stopped suddenly, the thick dust settling behind it as three men dressed in military garb hopped from the back. One took the point, the other two followed, one on each side, holding their automatics at attention.

Sancho- The Cuban Military Police
Scott Hall?!

He announced loudly with a thick accent. Scott looked the trio up and down with an eyebrow raised. He took a puff off of his cigar, and pulled it from his lips.

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
Yeah mang, you looking for me?

Sancho nodded at Hall, and the two men came from either side, grabbing one of Hall's arms a piece. They began to drag him towards the truck, his two cousins yelling in Spanish at the military police.

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
It's OK chicos, I got this mang! Dun worry, I've been in worse!

Hall yelled to his clearly concerned cousins as they loaded him into the back of the truck, and sped off down the street.

LET'S GO TO PRISON[/FONT]

Hall sat silently in his cell. He didn't know where he was, nor how long he was there. The last thing he remembered was getting hit in the nose with the butt of a rifle. He sat, with his head down waiting for some form of life to wander into the basement-at least that's where he thought he was. Time had passed; fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, an hour... He wasn't sure, but a guard had wandered downstairs, rife in tote.

Javier- The Cuban Military Police
HE wants to see you.

The guard chimed as Scott stood from the bench and moved to the bars.

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
WHO does, mang?

Javier- The Cuban Military Police
Fidel Castro!

Scott's eyes grew wide with fear, as he backed away from the bars.

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
No, no, no! No! No! NO! NO! Mang, I thought he was out of power!

Javier- The Cuban Military Police
We're Cuba, you think we tell the truth?

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
True enough, let's go mang.

The guard unlocked the door, and Scott stepped out of the cell. Both Scott and the guard left the basement at a quick pace; once out of the jail below, they quickly navigated the Cuban government building, and ended up at two large wooden doors. The guard gave three firm knocks and slowly, the doors creeked open, a guard pulling either handle. In the far back of the white room was a large, black desk; and behind that, was a doorway covered in curtains, probably leading to a balcony. The guard dragged Scott by his arm towards the desk, where the large office chair spun around to reveal Fidel Castro! ZOMG NOZ! Anyway, Fidel placed his elbows on the desk, and weaved his fingers together.

Fidel Castro
So, you are the filthy American... Scott Hall...

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
And you're just filthy chico! Can you people not shower either, mang?

Fidel Castro
I will have none of this disrespect!

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
And I'll have none of you being an asshole, mang!

Scott eyed the desk carefully. He saw a glass container of toothpicks, and broke free from the guard's grasp. He pulled one out of the jar, and flicked it at Castro. His eyes grew wide with anger as he stood up from his seat.

Fidel Castro
Filthy American pig! FOLLOW ME!

Fidel walked through the curtains of the doorway. The guard snatched Hall by his ponytail, and stuck the nuzzle in his back

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
Easy mang, you'll rip the shirt.

The guard forced Scott around the desk, and onto the balcony with Castro. He nodded at the guard, who returned the motion, and headed back into the room, closing the doors behind him.

Fidel Castro
My people! What I have here is a man... A boy who thought he could break the rules and laws of our beloved Cuba! He thinks he can sneak under our radar, and make fools of us!

The mob cheered below, as Castro hauled Scott next to him by his ponytail.

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
Radar? Are you serious, chico? I thought you were all cavemen, mang... Especially you, you sad looking mother fucker with the Santa Clause beard. Try Gillette, mang... Oh wait, you have to get phones to call the company. Look, do yourself a favor and invent a boat, then float to Miami. From there, dig in these things called gutters that line the things called streets for a silver thing called a quarter. Stick it in the machine called a phone- You writing this down, chico? Then stick the quarter in, flip through the yellow thing called a phone book, and look up Gillette; that G-I-L-L-E--

Fidel Castro
SILENCE! I KEEL YOU!

Scott scuffed him off, and brushed Castro's hand off his shoulder. He began to yell in Spanish, to which Scott answered with a swift kick to his gut. Hall picked him up sideways, and turned his back to the balcony's ledge. He bent down, and with all his strength, hauled Fidel over him, to the grassy knoll below. Scott turned around, and was showered with cheers as Fidel twitched on the ground. "El Presidente! El Presidente!", the Cuban people shouted towards Scott, clearly happy that he had literally and metaphorically overthrown Castro. With a shake of his head, Scott opened the doors leading to the office, and sat down at Castro's desk. Picking up the phone, he began to dial. The other end rang, and there was an answer.

.::]Da Bad Guy | Scott Hall | The Cuban Assassin[::.
Big Kev? I got a story for you, mang! I'll see you tomorrow, chico. You'll like this.

EPILOGUE

Scott's trip to Cuba was... Interesting to say the least. He'd be returning to the states tomorrow, though... What else could happen to Da Bad Guy before this week's RAW? Tune in to find out...[/center]