Post by Xtreme on Dec 20, 2015 0:46:56 GMT -5
Late night. A local bar. There's dance music playing over the speakers as the camera pans through the crowd. Mostly locals who have come out to party, but there is one celebrity busting a move. A Michael Jackson style twirl and he slides across the floor. He glides a bit, waiting for the song to end. He starts for a table, a pair of barely dressed women at his side. He nods to a waiter, who quickly slides over to the bar and brings back a round of Fireball shots and a tall Angry Orchard. Shots are downed all around the table, then Starr takes a sip of his Orchard. He surveys the area, his eyes catching the camera.
I suppose you want a reaction to my first WCF win and subsequent entry into Torneo Cibernetico at One. Well, as far as my first win at Slam, you can see how I'm celebrating... Bitches, booze and breakdancing. I'll tell ya, there's nothing quite like coming off a big win and throwing back a few brewskies.
Lucy nods to the girls, sliding out a side door. We find a patio, somewhat secluded from the rest of the bar, but external speakers allow you to hear a slightly lower volume of the music from inside. Lucious takes a swig of his Orchard.
Was my victory not foreseen? I mean, I've got a hell of a career behind me. Rivals who made my opponents this week look like children. Matches that made a triple threat tag match seem like a game of duck-duck-goose. I give my foes their props; they worked hard to make me earn that win. But at the end of the day... Well...
It was just another day at the office.
Lucious chugs down the rest of his beer, slapping the glass down on a table. He takes a seat next to it, taking in a breath before his next words.
Now, as for One and Torneo Cibernetico. My victory this past week granted me a spot in a match that could, potentially, throw me into the upper echelon of this fed. In all honesty, it's only a matter of time before it happens anyway. But a win in this match says I get some actual competition that much sooner.
So to put this match into perspective, let's look at the competitors.
The team opposing me consists of a crappy knockoff video game, an amazon, some new breed of dog and an illegal immigrant I already knocked off. So... A bunch of minor players with aspirations but not enough will to grab the proverbial brass ring.
Lucy takes a second, a slight grin. He scratches his head, almost pondering to himself as he breathes. A nod, he continues.
So. Rage Maxxxxxxx. The 12 year old social media idiot who doesn't know that hitting a letter once does the same job in less than half the time. Well, Rage- real original there, too, by the way- I'll give you this. You beat one of your partners last week. Not directly, of course, but props to ya anyhow. You manage to sweep up a win.
Now you just have to try and do it against someone who matters. You know, someone with the kind of mentality where nothing is off limits and losing is not an option. Someone who has been in the Main Event, someone who is called up for the big matches not because he wants to be there, but because this business NEEDS him to be there. There is no backstab option this round, Mad Max. Only falling to a superior opponent.
B... B'wa... Botanical Gardens. You, with the foreign ass name and the shitty gimmick. I'm just gonna call you Bill, because it's a thousand times better than that foreignese bullshit you spout. What to say about a guy who got tired of poaching his mother's housecats just to come into the wrestling business and get his ass whooped by people with real talent?
Lucious places a finger to his chin, appearing to be legitimately out of ideas. He shrugs, looking intently to the camera.
Welcome to my ring, Bill. I hope you enjoy your likely short stay; it's not everyday that a grown man with the mind of an infant enters this sport and actually survives past the first match. Enjoy what little limelight I graciously allow to come your way and bask in its glow while you can.
Shih Tzu Pit. Uhm... Puggle Peels. Husky Seed??
Bernard Core, that's it. I apologize, it's a very rare occasion when I actually have to pretend to give a damn about people who are so far beneath me that mentioning them makes me feel dirty. Oh, don't be offended; anyone who knows my name already understands that greatness comes with the price of admission. You...
You are a pretentious piece of monkey shit. Acting like you're better than everyone else... Son, what the hell have you done? Tried to introduce some fucked-up mathematical bullshit to confuse today's kids? Walk around in circles to get the same answer we had twenty minutes ago? Please. Last week, you called up a has-been for a fight... And then, probably because you knew he'd beat your ass drunk, high and half asleep anyways, you propose a UNION.
You make me sick, Core. Acting all high and mighty when, in all reality, you're about as big a threat as a pop tart. The nerve of you, acting like a higher education makes you better... Wait until you get into the ring with a REAL competitor, boy. This ring doesn't follow a book, Bernie, this ring doesn't follow some equation. This ring is about prowess and power. Two things that can't be taught through your school books. You learn how to win in this business from working through hard times on the streets, through facing fear and bullies and hate... This business isn't for you, dear educator. Hit the classroom and let a real talent take your spot.
Lucious shakes his head, taking a moment to settle. The nerve of some people... Starr takes a breath, pondering.
And last but certainly not... Well, I can't say that, because all these clowns are trash. But in this particular case, I have a win notched against him already. El Pollo. Or... Guapo? Burrito? Puta. That's it, Puta.
How goes it, Puta? Feeling any better from last week? I know that boot to your jaw probably knocked some golden teeth out, and that German didn't exactly knock any brain cells INTO place. And if there WAS any consciousness left to you, you saw what happened to Colton Moore... Who, from what I heard, took about 3 hours to figure out what day it was. I'm not going to waste too much breath on you, Puta. I kicked your ass once, and I'll do it again. End of story.
Lucious takes a breath, turning as a door creaks open behind him. He looks back, a waitress grabbing up his empty glass and apologizing for the interruption. Lucy smiles, shaking his head. He whispers something in her ear, slips her a twenty and turns back to the camera.
As for my partners...
I can promise you all two things. One, I will have each and every one of your backs until our foes have been vanquished. I don't feel like placing myself at the disadvantage of the numbers game. Not that I couldn't overcome the odds, it just makes us all look better.
Second, I will not hesitate to put each and every one of you on your backs once it comes down to it. This Torneo... It's a clusterfuck of a match. But it's MY match. It's MY way of rising to the top, MY time to show this fed who the fuck is who. Anyone who stands in my way is subject to pain and humiliation beyond your greatest fear.
Lucious stops, the waitress coming back with two bottles of Not Your Father's Root Beer and what appears to be a double shot of something... Dark. He takes the drinks, slipping her another ten, then downs the shot. He starts with a breath, then a grin.
Andre Holmes. A man who has a win over Rage Quit, and- to an extent via the transitional property- Boner Blood. Ya got spark, brother. You have style and class. I'm certain that you'll bring a fight for the opposition, and maybe even bring Sad Sack down again. Good to have you on my team. Oh, but a quick note- no matter what you bring to the table, at some point you might have the displeasure of facing me. Should that moment arise, Andre, I surely hope you understand that I take no personal joy in defeating you. It's simply business. Just bring me a fight worth having, and I will gladly shake your hand when it's over.
Pumpkin... Punkin? Your name is Punkin... Well, whatever. You showed spirit in your match with our Hardcore Champion last week, and picked up a victory- very similar to how I see things going down at One. You come in, show some spunk, leave early while someone else picks up the V. But you're a good kid, Punk. I look forward to teaming with you.
Doc... Doc Henry, well... I think you're the only one on the team who didn't pick up a win at Slam. Which, honestly, makes you the weak link on this team. Doc, I'm going to hope that last week was a fluke and you have more to bring to the table. I hope you have more talent than what we saw at Slam. This may come down to a single winner type of match, Doc, but there IS a team element that can't be ignored. And I refuse to tolerate weakness, Henry. Bring something better to the game, Doc. Bring a formidable assault at One. Because I swear to you, Doc McStuffins, if you embarrass our team like you did at Slam, I will personally see to it that your elimination comes quickly. Got it?
Lucious starts in on his NYF, shaking his head. He turns back to the camera, one can see the glaze starting to come over his eyes. He grins.
Let's get one thing straight here, gentlemen. This Torneo... It's a chance to shine. For all of us. It's a Once-In-A-Lifetime opportunity to showcase who we are and what we do. What we do is fight. What we do is wrestle. What we do is to put on a show.
But what do I do that is different from you all?
What is it that I do best?
Well, that's the easy part, son.
I win.
Lucious nods, holding his beer up. He turns as he puts the bottle to his lips, heading back into the bar. The music is now the only sound on the patio as the camera pans the scene, and we fade... To... Black...
I suppose you want a reaction to my first WCF win and subsequent entry into Torneo Cibernetico at One. Well, as far as my first win at Slam, you can see how I'm celebrating... Bitches, booze and breakdancing. I'll tell ya, there's nothing quite like coming off a big win and throwing back a few brewskies.
Lucy nods to the girls, sliding out a side door. We find a patio, somewhat secluded from the rest of the bar, but external speakers allow you to hear a slightly lower volume of the music from inside. Lucious takes a swig of his Orchard.
Was my victory not foreseen? I mean, I've got a hell of a career behind me. Rivals who made my opponents this week look like children. Matches that made a triple threat tag match seem like a game of duck-duck-goose. I give my foes their props; they worked hard to make me earn that win. But at the end of the day... Well...
It was just another day at the office.
Lucious chugs down the rest of his beer, slapping the glass down on a table. He takes a seat next to it, taking in a breath before his next words.
Now, as for One and Torneo Cibernetico. My victory this past week granted me a spot in a match that could, potentially, throw me into the upper echelon of this fed. In all honesty, it's only a matter of time before it happens anyway. But a win in this match says I get some actual competition that much sooner.
So to put this match into perspective, let's look at the competitors.
The team opposing me consists of a crappy knockoff video game, an amazon, some new breed of dog and an illegal immigrant I already knocked off. So... A bunch of minor players with aspirations but not enough will to grab the proverbial brass ring.
Lucy takes a second, a slight grin. He scratches his head, almost pondering to himself as he breathes. A nod, he continues.
So. Rage Maxxxxxxx. The 12 year old social media idiot who doesn't know that hitting a letter once does the same job in less than half the time. Well, Rage- real original there, too, by the way- I'll give you this. You beat one of your partners last week. Not directly, of course, but props to ya anyhow. You manage to sweep up a win.
Now you just have to try and do it against someone who matters. You know, someone with the kind of mentality where nothing is off limits and losing is not an option. Someone who has been in the Main Event, someone who is called up for the big matches not because he wants to be there, but because this business NEEDS him to be there. There is no backstab option this round, Mad Max. Only falling to a superior opponent.
B... B'wa... Botanical Gardens. You, with the foreign ass name and the shitty gimmick. I'm just gonna call you Bill, because it's a thousand times better than that foreignese bullshit you spout. What to say about a guy who got tired of poaching his mother's housecats just to come into the wrestling business and get his ass whooped by people with real talent?
Lucious places a finger to his chin, appearing to be legitimately out of ideas. He shrugs, looking intently to the camera.
Welcome to my ring, Bill. I hope you enjoy your likely short stay; it's not everyday that a grown man with the mind of an infant enters this sport and actually survives past the first match. Enjoy what little limelight I graciously allow to come your way and bask in its glow while you can.
Shih Tzu Pit. Uhm... Puggle Peels. Husky Seed??
Bernard Core, that's it. I apologize, it's a very rare occasion when I actually have to pretend to give a damn about people who are so far beneath me that mentioning them makes me feel dirty. Oh, don't be offended; anyone who knows my name already understands that greatness comes with the price of admission. You...
You are a pretentious piece of monkey shit. Acting like you're better than everyone else... Son, what the hell have you done? Tried to introduce some fucked-up mathematical bullshit to confuse today's kids? Walk around in circles to get the same answer we had twenty minutes ago? Please. Last week, you called up a has-been for a fight... And then, probably because you knew he'd beat your ass drunk, high and half asleep anyways, you propose a UNION.
You make me sick, Core. Acting all high and mighty when, in all reality, you're about as big a threat as a pop tart. The nerve of you, acting like a higher education makes you better... Wait until you get into the ring with a REAL competitor, boy. This ring doesn't follow a book, Bernie, this ring doesn't follow some equation. This ring is about prowess and power. Two things that can't be taught through your school books. You learn how to win in this business from working through hard times on the streets, through facing fear and bullies and hate... This business isn't for you, dear educator. Hit the classroom and let a real talent take your spot.
Lucious shakes his head, taking a moment to settle. The nerve of some people... Starr takes a breath, pondering.
And last but certainly not... Well, I can't say that, because all these clowns are trash. But in this particular case, I have a win notched against him already. El Pollo. Or... Guapo? Burrito? Puta. That's it, Puta.
How goes it, Puta? Feeling any better from last week? I know that boot to your jaw probably knocked some golden teeth out, and that German didn't exactly knock any brain cells INTO place. And if there WAS any consciousness left to you, you saw what happened to Colton Moore... Who, from what I heard, took about 3 hours to figure out what day it was. I'm not going to waste too much breath on you, Puta. I kicked your ass once, and I'll do it again. End of story.
Lucious takes a breath, turning as a door creaks open behind him. He looks back, a waitress grabbing up his empty glass and apologizing for the interruption. Lucy smiles, shaking his head. He whispers something in her ear, slips her a twenty and turns back to the camera.
As for my partners...
I can promise you all two things. One, I will have each and every one of your backs until our foes have been vanquished. I don't feel like placing myself at the disadvantage of the numbers game. Not that I couldn't overcome the odds, it just makes us all look better.
Second, I will not hesitate to put each and every one of you on your backs once it comes down to it. This Torneo... It's a clusterfuck of a match. But it's MY match. It's MY way of rising to the top, MY time to show this fed who the fuck is who. Anyone who stands in my way is subject to pain and humiliation beyond your greatest fear.
Lucious stops, the waitress coming back with two bottles of Not Your Father's Root Beer and what appears to be a double shot of something... Dark. He takes the drinks, slipping her another ten, then downs the shot. He starts with a breath, then a grin.
Andre Holmes. A man who has a win over Rage Quit, and- to an extent via the transitional property- Boner Blood. Ya got spark, brother. You have style and class. I'm certain that you'll bring a fight for the opposition, and maybe even bring Sad Sack down again. Good to have you on my team. Oh, but a quick note- no matter what you bring to the table, at some point you might have the displeasure of facing me. Should that moment arise, Andre, I surely hope you understand that I take no personal joy in defeating you. It's simply business. Just bring me a fight worth having, and I will gladly shake your hand when it's over.
Pumpkin... Punkin? Your name is Punkin... Well, whatever. You showed spirit in your match with our Hardcore Champion last week, and picked up a victory- very similar to how I see things going down at One. You come in, show some spunk, leave early while someone else picks up the V. But you're a good kid, Punk. I look forward to teaming with you.
Doc... Doc Henry, well... I think you're the only one on the team who didn't pick up a win at Slam. Which, honestly, makes you the weak link on this team. Doc, I'm going to hope that last week was a fluke and you have more to bring to the table. I hope you have more talent than what we saw at Slam. This may come down to a single winner type of match, Doc, but there IS a team element that can't be ignored. And I refuse to tolerate weakness, Henry. Bring something better to the game, Doc. Bring a formidable assault at One. Because I swear to you, Doc McStuffins, if you embarrass our team like you did at Slam, I will personally see to it that your elimination comes quickly. Got it?
Lucious starts in on his NYF, shaking his head. He turns back to the camera, one can see the glaze starting to come over his eyes. He grins.
Let's get one thing straight here, gentlemen. This Torneo... It's a chance to shine. For all of us. It's a Once-In-A-Lifetime opportunity to showcase who we are and what we do. What we do is fight. What we do is wrestle. What we do is to put on a show.
But what do I do that is different from you all?
What is it that I do best?
Well, that's the easy part, son.
I win.
Lucious nods, holding his beer up. He turns as he puts the bottle to his lips, heading back into the bar. The music is now the only sound on the patio as the camera pans the scene, and we fade... To... Black...
