Post by deo on Jan 26, 2014 9:05:53 GMT
“Is anyone else worried that this might be a potentially tense incident considering that both Mr. Castle and Mr…. Blade? Is he a Mr. Blade, or just Blade?”
The Disney Vice President turns to the two people in the office with him. To his immediate right was un-acclaimed director Paul W.S. Anderson, who did not seem to yet be on the right plane of consciousness to answer the question. Next to Paul was the Executive Producer who was skimming through emails on her phone.
“Last I heard he preferred just Blade,” she said, “no first, or last name. It’s hip; I think it’s an urban thing.”
“Right,” replied the Vice President, as he loosened his favorite Steamboat Willie tie, “Ok, so, ‘Blade’ it is. Well both Blade and Mr. Castle will be in the same room at the same time, and they are both usually, well, very well armed.”
“We have nothing to worry about it. I have it from Stan that they’ve both agreed to be on their best behavior.”
“Well, good,” The V.P. stammers quickly, “I mean, I’m sure if he says so. I mean I trust his word; if Stan says its true then its true, no doubt about it. But just for arguments sake, just to say I did my homework then, security’s speed dial is,”
“Number four,” The producer says.
“Ah, ok,” the Vice President says, sighing in relief, “well then, lets get started.”He presses his intercom’s speed dial, number one.
“Charlene you can send them in now?”
The Executive Producer plasters a weak grin on her lips, but not before giving Paul W.S. Anderson a quick slap to the back of the head. Paul shudders awake at the random act of violence, and seems to enter back into our reality. The back door swings open and two grizzly men of bulky proportions swagger into the sprawling Hollywood office. You already know their names and legends; Frank Castle, aka ‘The Punisher’, and Blade, aka ‘Just Blade’. There are two chairs placed across from, and facing, the VP, the E.P., and Paul W.S Anderson. Neither man sits in either of those chairs. Blade stood in the dead center of the room, avoiding the sun coming in from the western window, while Mr. Castle leant against the babbling office fountain the VP got from his daughter on his last birthday, that he actually liked a great deal, and wished Mr. Castle wouldn’t lean against.
“Gentlemen,” The Producer said, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.”
They don’t, but she goes on.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the Disney Corporation has taken the reins on many recent Marvel holdings as of late, and we were hoping to capitalize on our new found goldmine by churning out an easy, bare bones effort at a reboot of one of the former comic-film series that had, no offense, sort of fizzled out like a defective oriental firework in a wet clump of septic waste. Which leads us to your two ‘franchises’, ”
Both men grunt, look towards each other, scoff with their grins only, then turn back. The Executive producer
snaps in front of Paul W.S Anderson, alerting him back to reality.
“Gentlemen, this is innovat, no…inspir… experien, well no… Gentlemen, this is Paul W.S. Anderson, who’s spent a career turning a bare husk of a concept for a video game into, like, at least four films at this point. Paul,”
“Right,” W.S. Anderson says, jittering like a caffeinated marmoset, “Ok, so, right, yeah, Blade vs Punisher, it’s gonna be great. We’ve got vampires, right, and Blade you’re cutting their heads off with a slick katana; Woosh-Wham-Washa! Then BAM! A sniper rifle blasts you in the chest; you fly like fifteen feet back into like a pool, or something, NO! WAIT! A PUDDLE OF BLOOD!... Anyway we pull back, and it’s Punisher, and he’s got a rocket launcher now, and it shoots and it hits a gas tanker and BWOOSH you go flying. And then maybe the vampire leader gets away, or something, and you both want to kill him but you don’t trust each other, and there’s betrayals, and alliances, and then Blade cuts a guy’s limbs off and Frank shoves C4 into his ribcage, and BOOM, and intestines go everywhere.”
The Disney V.P. loosens his Mickey tie, then uses it to clean the sweat from his forehead. “Well, I mean, maybe we could tone it down a little with the, well, decapitations, and explosions, and,”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Paul W.S. Anderson roars to the heavens, “It’s gotta be real, its gotta be visceral, it’s gotta be reality TV meets Quentin Tarantino. No stunts, no special effects, no scripts! I want two film crews following these two actively for the next 48 hours, and I want you two trying to maim, detonate, and annihilate each other like your favorite grandmother’s lives depended on it. Then, when it’s over, we’ll take the footage, shoot some scenes to add a plot, character development, and hot busty babes, then mix it into something so awesome it would be like drinking a vampire, explosion, psychopath smoothie.”
The Executive Producer looks up from her phone again. “Oh, and I just got a text from Brian. The winner gets a post credits cameo in the next X-Men movie. Not the next next X-Men movie, but the one after that… So, what’s the wait? Go out there and make us a movie.”
-----------
The Short
Punisher and Blade in New York City. Their ‘esteemed’ director wants three separate Blade vs Punisher Fight scenes, one in a sprawling abandoned chemical factory, one in smaller but very rave New York club, and the finale taking place on Riker’s Island Prison with a variety of interior and exterior settings to move from. Prep time is non-existent for the first and second fight, but in full effect for the finale. They will be limited to all the weapons they can plausibly carry on their person at a time, no more.
But, basically if you wanted to ignore all the rest of it, who do you think would win in a fight six times out of ten?
The Disney Vice President turns to the two people in the office with him. To his immediate right was un-acclaimed director Paul W.S. Anderson, who did not seem to yet be on the right plane of consciousness to answer the question. Next to Paul was the Executive Producer who was skimming through emails on her phone.
“Last I heard he preferred just Blade,” she said, “no first, or last name. It’s hip; I think it’s an urban thing.”
“Right,” replied the Vice President, as he loosened his favorite Steamboat Willie tie, “Ok, so, ‘Blade’ it is. Well both Blade and Mr. Castle will be in the same room at the same time, and they are both usually, well, very well armed.”
“We have nothing to worry about it. I have it from Stan that they’ve both agreed to be on their best behavior.”
“Well, good,” The V.P. stammers quickly, “I mean, I’m sure if he says so. I mean I trust his word; if Stan says its true then its true, no doubt about it. But just for arguments sake, just to say I did my homework then, security’s speed dial is,”
“Number four,” The producer says.
“Ah, ok,” the Vice President says, sighing in relief, “well then, lets get started.”He presses his intercom’s speed dial, number one.
“Charlene you can send them in now?”
The Executive Producer plasters a weak grin on her lips, but not before giving Paul W.S. Anderson a quick slap to the back of the head. Paul shudders awake at the random act of violence, and seems to enter back into our reality. The back door swings open and two grizzly men of bulky proportions swagger into the sprawling Hollywood office. You already know their names and legends; Frank Castle, aka ‘The Punisher’, and Blade, aka ‘Just Blade’. There are two chairs placed across from, and facing, the VP, the E.P., and Paul W.S Anderson. Neither man sits in either of those chairs. Blade stood in the dead center of the room, avoiding the sun coming in from the western window, while Mr. Castle leant against the babbling office fountain the VP got from his daughter on his last birthday, that he actually liked a great deal, and wished Mr. Castle wouldn’t lean against.
“Gentlemen,” The Producer said, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.”
They don’t, but she goes on.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the Disney Corporation has taken the reins on many recent Marvel holdings as of late, and we were hoping to capitalize on our new found goldmine by churning out an easy, bare bones effort at a reboot of one of the former comic-film series that had, no offense, sort of fizzled out like a defective oriental firework in a wet clump of septic waste. Which leads us to your two ‘franchises’, ”
Both men grunt, look towards each other, scoff with their grins only, then turn back. The Executive producer
snaps in front of Paul W.S Anderson, alerting him back to reality.
“Gentlemen, this is innovat, no…inspir… experien, well no… Gentlemen, this is Paul W.S. Anderson, who’s spent a career turning a bare husk of a concept for a video game into, like, at least four films at this point. Paul,”
“Right,” W.S. Anderson says, jittering like a caffeinated marmoset, “Ok, so, right, yeah, Blade vs Punisher, it’s gonna be great. We’ve got vampires, right, and Blade you’re cutting their heads off with a slick katana; Woosh-Wham-Washa! Then BAM! A sniper rifle blasts you in the chest; you fly like fifteen feet back into like a pool, or something, NO! WAIT! A PUDDLE OF BLOOD!... Anyway we pull back, and it’s Punisher, and he’s got a rocket launcher now, and it shoots and it hits a gas tanker and BWOOSH you go flying. And then maybe the vampire leader gets away, or something, and you both want to kill him but you don’t trust each other, and there’s betrayals, and alliances, and then Blade cuts a guy’s limbs off and Frank shoves C4 into his ribcage, and BOOM, and intestines go everywhere.”
The Disney V.P. loosens his Mickey tie, then uses it to clean the sweat from his forehead. “Well, I mean, maybe we could tone it down a little with the, well, decapitations, and explosions, and,”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Paul W.S. Anderson roars to the heavens, “It’s gotta be real, its gotta be visceral, it’s gotta be reality TV meets Quentin Tarantino. No stunts, no special effects, no scripts! I want two film crews following these two actively for the next 48 hours, and I want you two trying to maim, detonate, and annihilate each other like your favorite grandmother’s lives depended on it. Then, when it’s over, we’ll take the footage, shoot some scenes to add a plot, character development, and hot busty babes, then mix it into something so awesome it would be like drinking a vampire, explosion, psychopath smoothie.”
The Executive Producer looks up from her phone again. “Oh, and I just got a text from Brian. The winner gets a post credits cameo in the next X-Men movie. Not the next next X-Men movie, but the one after that… So, what’s the wait? Go out there and make us a movie.”
-----------
The Short
Punisher and Blade in New York City. Their ‘esteemed’ director wants three separate Blade vs Punisher Fight scenes, one in a sprawling abandoned chemical factory, one in smaller but very rave New York club, and the finale taking place on Riker’s Island Prison with a variety of interior and exterior settings to move from. Prep time is non-existent for the first and second fight, but in full effect for the finale. They will be limited to all the weapons they can plausibly carry on their person at a time, no more.
But, basically if you wanted to ignore all the rest of it, who do you think would win in a fight six times out of ten?
Both movie and comics Blade wouldn't need to avoid sunlight, though, as Blade is only half-vampire in both mediums. 