Post by Speede on Feb 5, 2012 15:44:07 GMT -5
A silent snowfall flutters down amidst what appears to be a park. There are trees scattered about the area every so often, benches, hills, valleys, and everything else that makes up what would be a nearly perfect landscape, but all of it is covered in the flaky white powder which lays nearly undisturbed in the frosty winter wonderland. However, one set of freshly made footprints in the snow winds a slightly curved route through the park, and seems to stop at one of the park benches, and upon further examination, Roy Speede is sitting on the bench that has been freshly brushed free of snow, bundled up in a coat and sweat pants with boots, gloves, and a hat. The camera pans around him slowly before encroaching in on him further to about a distance of six feet or so, enough so that he could likely be heard and that the shot cuts off about half-way down his coat. Without much difficulty, he begins to speak.
Roy Speede: ”Damn, that groundhog sure called it. One day it’s bright and sunny and the furry little shit sees his shadow, and the very next day the city is getting buried in nature’s meth, or if you’d prefer to call it as such, snow.
Before I go much further, you’re probably asking yourself what the hell I’m talking about when I say ‘nature’s meth’. Well, look around. I’m the only thing in this photo that isn’t white as a ghost, and your eyes are glued on the central focus of the camera more than they were when you found out Scarlett Johansson’s cell phone was hacked and nude photos were published online... Some people are pretty messed up in the head, I can tell you that right now. And no, I’m not talking about Miss Johansson. I’m talking about all those perverts out there who reveled in that moment and Google searched for them for hours without end because they can’t get girlfriends who don’t have a problem with being a bit fun or flirty or who will perhaps reveal what they’ve got to offer. But hey, who am I to talk? I’ve got a girlfriend who fits that description perfectly. She is fun, she is flirty, and she isn’t afraid to... Oh, crap, what’s the term... ‘shake what her mama gave her’, is it? And the most interesting concept about it all is, people can try to use her against me all they like; the truth is, I don’t deal with petty jealousy. I’m not a complete and total pervert like some people. Sure, sex is great, but it’s not the focal point of my day, nor of my life, nor of my relationship. I can benefit a lot more from dating someone than just getting my cock sucked, unlike some people out there.”
Cameraman: ”Hey uh... Roy? Can we get the heck out of here, please? It’s fucking cold, and I can’t operate this camera with gloves on.”
Roy Speede: ”Sure, whatever. I don’t care. That’s fine with me. It’s not like I had some whole speech prepared to give you about how my opponents are as pitiful and worthless as this snowfall and are doing nothing but restricting the company on the road to success, and how Joel Hall and Alex Bankmanship shouldn’t even be here. Whatever. Just... Just meet me at the arena in an hour and we’ll chat there.”
Roy stands up and the camera follows him as he starts to walk away, and the scene fades to black...
Only to reopen sometime later outside Roy’s locker room. The cameraman knocks, and Roy calls from beyond the door.
Roy Speede: ”Come in!”
The cameraman enters to see Roy Speede sitting at his computer desk. He turns around and faces the cameraman as he stands just inside the doorway, closing the door.
Roy Speede: ”Glad you could make it. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t show up late like you always do. I rarely get to see anybody show up on time for an interview around here. But oh well, rather than reflect on that fact, I guess it’d be wise to get down to business while I still can and before the actual show; it won’t be twenty minutes before they call my name to come to the ring for the match, and once I get down there I’m not looking back to reflect upon my thoughts. I may not be necessarily happy right now, but you can be damned sure that I’m not going to slack off and go easy on anybody right now, and that includes my own partner; he doesn’t pull his weight, I’m going to slap him in the face.
Speaking of which, Mr. FPV did have a good point. We’re a unit for fuck’s sake; we need to start acting like it, even if it’s just going through the motions. I don’t give him much credit these days; maybe he does deserve some credit, but at the same time, maybe he doesn’t deserve to be acknowledged as a good wrestler because maybe, just maybe, he just doesn’t have it anymore, and pairing him up with someone with the kind of talent that I have is just Seth Lerch’s pathetic way of trying to keep FPV from fading into obscurity like most of the wrestlers around this place. Hell, that’s what they did with Troy Malenko way back at this time last year; they paired him with Gravedigger, and slapped the tag belts around their waists when Tank Reaper started to collapse. My cousin and I took the belts from them less than two months later, and now, I’m fairly certain this is the first time anybody has heard the name Troy Malenko since. Seth could be doing that exact thing to me; he could be pairing up someone at the height of his career with someone who’s deteriorating and on the brink of obscurity, trying to afford him one last opportunity to hold a strap around his waist, before Frank Patrick Venable becomes another one of those names that nobody will even recognize anymore.
But then there’s the possibility that I’m wrong, and that FPV is just starting to get back into the swing of things; this actually intrigues me, and for the sake of this tag team and for the sake of this opportunity at the tag team titles, I hope to hell that I’m right, and that Mr. FPV is ready to rise back up to the top. I’ll give the little shit credit, when he’s good, he’s damned good; but God knows that when he’s not on his A-game, he couldn’t beat Adam motherfucking Young. So here’s hoping you’re watching this, Frankie, and here’s hoping you’ve got your head on straight, and that you’re ready to kick some ass; if you aren’t you’re going to have to deal with me teaching you a lesson the likes of which you won’t be happy to have to learn, especially from someone who might actually respect you a little more if you weren’t such a hit-and-miss sort of guy. Buckle down and actually fight if you want to see another shot at gold in your lifetime, or I’m going to have to drop you and find someone who actually can hoist a belt above his head without relying on somebody else for damned near everything.
Then, let’s see here... Alex Bankmanship... Alex Bankmanship... What the hell? Did the WCF hire some credit union organizer or something? Is this some kind of joke? They hired a guy named Bankmanship? ...Oh yeah, they hired someone named Roy Speede, so I guess you can’t judge someone simply by the name they were given when they were born. Or at least, I suppose you can’t. I can; I was given what some consider a stupid name, and yet look how damned good I am. If stupid names amounted to talent, you might just be the one guy in the WCF who could beat me; but thank God stupid names don’t mean shit until their respective owners have proven themselves to have talent. As far as this match concerns me, he’d be better off signing off as Bankrupt if he thinks he’s going to beat me. I’m taking back what’s mine, whether Alex likes it or not, and there’s nothing he can do to change that fact in this matter.
Now, I’ve gone through my fair share of title shots since I showed up in the WCF, I can’t deny that, but unlike Alex here, I know what it’s like to hold a belt high above my head in one of the most prolific wrestling organizations on the east coast. At the same time, though, I suppose I know what it’s like to have the odds stacked so far against me like Bankmanship does, so in that respect I’m not doubting that he might have upset potential. Unfortunately for him, though, this is the WCF, not March Madness; upset potential doesn’t mean shit when you’re up against someone with the capability and potential of the University of Kansas; I’m the kind of powerhouse that will silence even the smallest of hopes Bankmanship might have; he might as well consider himself Boston University, because all over again I’m going to turn the lights out on his championship dream.
Then, of course, there’s the man we all know as Joel Hall. The man who cannot hold a job anywhere else managed to make it to the big time in the WCF, and even is getting himself a shot for a shot at the title alongside little Alex Bankmanship. I guess it’s time I play the role of most general managers and pry him away from his dream just like I’m going to do Bankmanship. Only with you, Joel Hall, it’s a bit more personal than that. You see, buddy, you and I go way back to your days as Mideo Extremo, or whatever the fuck you called yourself, and I’ve known you for quite some time. But at the same time, buddy boy, you have just so happened to pass before me elsewhere too, and it seems that nobody else will keep you signed on as a wrestler except here in the ‘Dub. You might as well be little Illinois University, who’s beaten the odds a time or two but hasn’t really gotten anywhere, finally with a chance to make a name for yourself against someone of actual value to the company; you finally get a shot at defeating me. You only get one shot; will you capture it, or will you just let it slip?
Exactly. You’ll let it slip through your fingers because you’re incapable of beating a cardboard box, let alone a professional wrestler the likes of ‘The Silver Lining’ Roy Speede. You’re going to collapse and fall short, and then I’m going to shoot you down with The Silver Bullet and pin you. You’ll fade into obscurity just like countless other names that I’ve beaten on my rise to the top, and then one day when people are flipping through the history books of the WCF, they’ll read your name and ask one another, ‘Who’s Joel Hall?’ Well, Hall, you’d better revel in the fact that your name will be synonymous with failure at the hands of Joel Hall; you’ll be in good company when that happens, dearest weakling. You’ll be a part of a list of names that’ve fallen at the hands of Roy Speede that already includes the likes of Aaron Miles, Doc Henry, and the great Odin Balfore. But you, of course, won’t be a name to glorify my career, Hall. Oh, not even close. You’re just another jobber compared to the talent that is Roy Speede.
And last but not least, let’s not forget about the two I’ll be facing for the Tag Titles after FPV and I win; Nightrider and Jeff Purse will be defending their tag belts against us soon enough, and I’m hungry for gold; I want my belt back, and you can be damned sure I’m going to get it. I’m not going to spend too much time talking about you two when, in reality, I don’t get my title match until after I beat Bankmanship and Hall, but you two better be shining those belts up nice and pretty for us, because soon enough you’ll be parting ways with the gold in favor of a different direction on your careers. But of course, you’ll be out there announcing tonight, so have fun with that, and don’t forget to congratulate me when I get my hand raised in victory. Bye bye now!”
The scene cuts to black.
Roy Speede: ”Damn, that groundhog sure called it. One day it’s bright and sunny and the furry little shit sees his shadow, and the very next day the city is getting buried in nature’s meth, or if you’d prefer to call it as such, snow.
Before I go much further, you’re probably asking yourself what the hell I’m talking about when I say ‘nature’s meth’. Well, look around. I’m the only thing in this photo that isn’t white as a ghost, and your eyes are glued on the central focus of the camera more than they were when you found out Scarlett Johansson’s cell phone was hacked and nude photos were published online... Some people are pretty messed up in the head, I can tell you that right now. And no, I’m not talking about Miss Johansson. I’m talking about all those perverts out there who reveled in that moment and Google searched for them for hours without end because they can’t get girlfriends who don’t have a problem with being a bit fun or flirty or who will perhaps reveal what they’ve got to offer. But hey, who am I to talk? I’ve got a girlfriend who fits that description perfectly. She is fun, she is flirty, and she isn’t afraid to... Oh, crap, what’s the term... ‘shake what her mama gave her’, is it? And the most interesting concept about it all is, people can try to use her against me all they like; the truth is, I don’t deal with petty jealousy. I’m not a complete and total pervert like some people. Sure, sex is great, but it’s not the focal point of my day, nor of my life, nor of my relationship. I can benefit a lot more from dating someone than just getting my cock sucked, unlike some people out there.”
Cameraman: ”Hey uh... Roy? Can we get the heck out of here, please? It’s fucking cold, and I can’t operate this camera with gloves on.”
Roy Speede: ”Sure, whatever. I don’t care. That’s fine with me. It’s not like I had some whole speech prepared to give you about how my opponents are as pitiful and worthless as this snowfall and are doing nothing but restricting the company on the road to success, and how Joel Hall and Alex Bankmanship shouldn’t even be here. Whatever. Just... Just meet me at the arena in an hour and we’ll chat there.”
Roy stands up and the camera follows him as he starts to walk away, and the scene fades to black...
Only to reopen sometime later outside Roy’s locker room. The cameraman knocks, and Roy calls from beyond the door.
Roy Speede: ”Come in!”
The cameraman enters to see Roy Speede sitting at his computer desk. He turns around and faces the cameraman as he stands just inside the doorway, closing the door.
Roy Speede: ”Glad you could make it. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t show up late like you always do. I rarely get to see anybody show up on time for an interview around here. But oh well, rather than reflect on that fact, I guess it’d be wise to get down to business while I still can and before the actual show; it won’t be twenty minutes before they call my name to come to the ring for the match, and once I get down there I’m not looking back to reflect upon my thoughts. I may not be necessarily happy right now, but you can be damned sure that I’m not going to slack off and go easy on anybody right now, and that includes my own partner; he doesn’t pull his weight, I’m going to slap him in the face.
Speaking of which, Mr. FPV did have a good point. We’re a unit for fuck’s sake; we need to start acting like it, even if it’s just going through the motions. I don’t give him much credit these days; maybe he does deserve some credit, but at the same time, maybe he doesn’t deserve to be acknowledged as a good wrestler because maybe, just maybe, he just doesn’t have it anymore, and pairing him up with someone with the kind of talent that I have is just Seth Lerch’s pathetic way of trying to keep FPV from fading into obscurity like most of the wrestlers around this place. Hell, that’s what they did with Troy Malenko way back at this time last year; they paired him with Gravedigger, and slapped the tag belts around their waists when Tank Reaper started to collapse. My cousin and I took the belts from them less than two months later, and now, I’m fairly certain this is the first time anybody has heard the name Troy Malenko since. Seth could be doing that exact thing to me; he could be pairing up someone at the height of his career with someone who’s deteriorating and on the brink of obscurity, trying to afford him one last opportunity to hold a strap around his waist, before Frank Patrick Venable becomes another one of those names that nobody will even recognize anymore.
But then there’s the possibility that I’m wrong, and that FPV is just starting to get back into the swing of things; this actually intrigues me, and for the sake of this tag team and for the sake of this opportunity at the tag team titles, I hope to hell that I’m right, and that Mr. FPV is ready to rise back up to the top. I’ll give the little shit credit, when he’s good, he’s damned good; but God knows that when he’s not on his A-game, he couldn’t beat Adam motherfucking Young. So here’s hoping you’re watching this, Frankie, and here’s hoping you’ve got your head on straight, and that you’re ready to kick some ass; if you aren’t you’re going to have to deal with me teaching you a lesson the likes of which you won’t be happy to have to learn, especially from someone who might actually respect you a little more if you weren’t such a hit-and-miss sort of guy. Buckle down and actually fight if you want to see another shot at gold in your lifetime, or I’m going to have to drop you and find someone who actually can hoist a belt above his head without relying on somebody else for damned near everything.
Then, let’s see here... Alex Bankmanship... Alex Bankmanship... What the hell? Did the WCF hire some credit union organizer or something? Is this some kind of joke? They hired a guy named Bankmanship? ...Oh yeah, they hired someone named Roy Speede, so I guess you can’t judge someone simply by the name they were given when they were born. Or at least, I suppose you can’t. I can; I was given what some consider a stupid name, and yet look how damned good I am. If stupid names amounted to talent, you might just be the one guy in the WCF who could beat me; but thank God stupid names don’t mean shit until their respective owners have proven themselves to have talent. As far as this match concerns me, he’d be better off signing off as Bankrupt if he thinks he’s going to beat me. I’m taking back what’s mine, whether Alex likes it or not, and there’s nothing he can do to change that fact in this matter.
Now, I’ve gone through my fair share of title shots since I showed up in the WCF, I can’t deny that, but unlike Alex here, I know what it’s like to hold a belt high above my head in one of the most prolific wrestling organizations on the east coast. At the same time, though, I suppose I know what it’s like to have the odds stacked so far against me like Bankmanship does, so in that respect I’m not doubting that he might have upset potential. Unfortunately for him, though, this is the WCF, not March Madness; upset potential doesn’t mean shit when you’re up against someone with the capability and potential of the University of Kansas; I’m the kind of powerhouse that will silence even the smallest of hopes Bankmanship might have; he might as well consider himself Boston University, because all over again I’m going to turn the lights out on his championship dream.
Then, of course, there’s the man we all know as Joel Hall. The man who cannot hold a job anywhere else managed to make it to the big time in the WCF, and even is getting himself a shot for a shot at the title alongside little Alex Bankmanship. I guess it’s time I play the role of most general managers and pry him away from his dream just like I’m going to do Bankmanship. Only with you, Joel Hall, it’s a bit more personal than that. You see, buddy, you and I go way back to your days as Mideo Extremo, or whatever the fuck you called yourself, and I’ve known you for quite some time. But at the same time, buddy boy, you have just so happened to pass before me elsewhere too, and it seems that nobody else will keep you signed on as a wrestler except here in the ‘Dub. You might as well be little Illinois University, who’s beaten the odds a time or two but hasn’t really gotten anywhere, finally with a chance to make a name for yourself against someone of actual value to the company; you finally get a shot at defeating me. You only get one shot; will you capture it, or will you just let it slip?
Exactly. You’ll let it slip through your fingers because you’re incapable of beating a cardboard box, let alone a professional wrestler the likes of ‘The Silver Lining’ Roy Speede. You’re going to collapse and fall short, and then I’m going to shoot you down with The Silver Bullet and pin you. You’ll fade into obscurity just like countless other names that I’ve beaten on my rise to the top, and then one day when people are flipping through the history books of the WCF, they’ll read your name and ask one another, ‘Who’s Joel Hall?’ Well, Hall, you’d better revel in the fact that your name will be synonymous with failure at the hands of Joel Hall; you’ll be in good company when that happens, dearest weakling. You’ll be a part of a list of names that’ve fallen at the hands of Roy Speede that already includes the likes of Aaron Miles, Doc Henry, and the great Odin Balfore. But you, of course, won’t be a name to glorify my career, Hall. Oh, not even close. You’re just another jobber compared to the talent that is Roy Speede.
And last but not least, let’s not forget about the two I’ll be facing for the Tag Titles after FPV and I win; Nightrider and Jeff Purse will be defending their tag belts against us soon enough, and I’m hungry for gold; I want my belt back, and you can be damned sure I’m going to get it. I’m not going to spend too much time talking about you two when, in reality, I don’t get my title match until after I beat Bankmanship and Hall, but you two better be shining those belts up nice and pretty for us, because soon enough you’ll be parting ways with the gold in favor of a different direction on your careers. But of course, you’ll be out there announcing tonight, so have fun with that, and don’t forget to congratulate me when I get my hand raised in victory. Bye bye now!”
The scene cuts to black.
