Slamalamadingdong, Round 2
Jan 2, 2016 18:15:47 GMT -5
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Lilith, 6ix God, and 3 more like this
Post by Xtreme on Jan 2, 2016 18:15:47 GMT -5
Loud thuds ring out as the scene fades in. It's dark in the empty halls, littered about with old, worn-out posters of wrestlers and boxers long retired. The thuds grow louder as the camera pans the scene, coming to a doorway. We peer inside, noticing a man throwing jabs at a punching bag.
Doc goes out. He was the weak link. Loco drops- that was a given. Already smacked his ass around once...
But me? Shit...
Lucy pops a jab at the bag, grunting. A moment passes as he breathes in deeply, closing his eyes. He calms himself.
It was your first Torneo, Lucious. You weren't even given a chance by some of these guys, and this was the first time you've been in this match type. You may not have won...
But you fucking proved yourself out there. That's what matters. You played against the house, and you came up spades. WCF is officially on notice now that you're a force to be reckoned with.
A clanking sound is heard off-camera, catching Starr's attention. He shakes his head, waving in the cameraman. A slight grin, he walks to a nearby bench and grabs a seat. He picks up a water bottle off the floor, grabs a sip, and looks up.
Many people in my position would consider themselves defeated. Washed up. After everything else I've done in my decade plus long career, I couldn't find a way to bring home the win. But I'm not going to let one damn loss get me down. We all have off nights, and we all have nights when we excel. One was simply not my night.
But that's okay. I wasn't used to Torneo rules, and I wasn't as prepared as I probably should have been. It was... Ugh... White Bernie Mac's night, and I applaud his... No, fuck that. Rotten Core gets no respect from me. Any talent he might have be damned; he's a despicable excuse for a human being. So fuck him. At some point down the line, I'll get my hands on him again and teach him a thing or two. But for now, my focus is on my now former teammate.
Lucious stands, pacing the area. He starts punching his bag again, dust falling from the rafters. He continues his exercise as he speaks to the camera.
Andre. At One, we had the pleasure of teaming together. As I recall, you were the last man standing for our group. In fact, if memory serves, you were also responsible for at least half the other team's eliminations. So for what it's worth, I will place credit where credit is due and congratulate you on a magnificent performance. Well done, Andre.
However, One is done and gone, and this week... This week starts anew. This week, Andre, our efforts place us across the ring from each other in a Television Championship Contender's Match. Now, I know you've had success elsewhere, much like myself. We're both former World Champions, which means we've both had the privilege of sitting atop the proverbial food chain. However, we have also both felt the cold of losing that which we value so much.
Lucy shrugs, pacing away from the bag. He takes another swig of water, taking a seat on the bench.
That being noted, you'll notice that my accolades far outnumber yours. Yes, you held multiple World Championships. But I'm a Triple Crown and Grand Slam Champion. I've held multiple World Titles, various second and third tier singles championships, and I'm a multiple time Tag Team Champion.
What exactly does that mean to you, Andre?
Simple. It means I'm the It Factor. It means I've never held any one title higher than another. Whether it's as low as a Television Championship or as high as the World Title, I carry myself as though my belt is the most important one in the business. Andre, you don't appear to have held any lower-tier championships, so allow me to explain something to you.
It is not the title who makes the man. In fact, it is the man who makes the title. I defeat you this week, then take on the Television Champion and defeat him. When I take that title, it will become more prestigious than any World Title in existence. How can I make such a claim?
Lucious grins, flicking his thumb across his nose.
Because, Mr Holmes, I carry myself with dignity and respect. I carry myself as a champion should, whether I have a belt or not. And when I hold a title, I defend it with honor. Week in and week out, I put my all on the line. I defend my title 24/7/52, and I never back down from a challenge.
You have all the talent in the world, Andre. You have drive and passion, and I deeply admire those qualities about you. But your lack of experience in lower tiers makes me wonder how much you're willing to give to this battle.
Am I going to see the same Andre Holmes who tore down Rage Maxx and Dexter Radcliffe? Am I going to be across the ring from the man who came just seconds away from winning Torneo Cibernetico?
Lucious stands, walking over to the punching bag. He starts throwing jabs, continuing.
Or am I going to get a lackluster fight from someone who doesn't see the point?
I know what's on your mind, Holmes. I know because I was there before. Some part of you is thinking that the Television Title is beneath you, that you can throw this match away and try to jettison your way straight to the top. There's a voice in your head saying that you're too good NOT to get a World Title shot.
That attitude isn't going to get you anywhere, Andre. In fact, if you bring that thought into our match this week, prepare not only to lose this week, but to watch me push the Television Championship beyond World Title status. Prepare yourself for the moment when the World Champion- be it Wade Moor, Jonny Fly, Dune, whoever- climbs off his high horse to challenge ME to be the Main Event again.
Andre, I'm bringing the fight this week. I have the Torneo to make up for, plus there's a title opportunity on the line. You have a beast waiting for you this week, my friend, and not a soul in the world is going to stop me from my destiny. I showed everyone I could adapt at One. This week, Andre, this week I show the world that I am...
A deep breath. A pause. A shot to the bag, followed by a grin.
Dangerous.
Lucious grabs his bottle of water, taking a swig. He walks off into the darkness, the camera trying to follow behind. We soon lose him, and the scene fades... To... Black...
Doc goes out. He was the weak link. Loco drops- that was a given. Already smacked his ass around once...
But me? Shit...
Lucy pops a jab at the bag, grunting. A moment passes as he breathes in deeply, closing his eyes. He calms himself.
It was your first Torneo, Lucious. You weren't even given a chance by some of these guys, and this was the first time you've been in this match type. You may not have won...
But you fucking proved yourself out there. That's what matters. You played against the house, and you came up spades. WCF is officially on notice now that you're a force to be reckoned with.
A clanking sound is heard off-camera, catching Starr's attention. He shakes his head, waving in the cameraman. A slight grin, he walks to a nearby bench and grabs a seat. He picks up a water bottle off the floor, grabs a sip, and looks up.
Many people in my position would consider themselves defeated. Washed up. After everything else I've done in my decade plus long career, I couldn't find a way to bring home the win. But I'm not going to let one damn loss get me down. We all have off nights, and we all have nights when we excel. One was simply not my night.
But that's okay. I wasn't used to Torneo rules, and I wasn't as prepared as I probably should have been. It was... Ugh... White Bernie Mac's night, and I applaud his... No, fuck that. Rotten Core gets no respect from me. Any talent he might have be damned; he's a despicable excuse for a human being. So fuck him. At some point down the line, I'll get my hands on him again and teach him a thing or two. But for now, my focus is on my now former teammate.
Lucious stands, pacing the area. He starts punching his bag again, dust falling from the rafters. He continues his exercise as he speaks to the camera.
Andre. At One, we had the pleasure of teaming together. As I recall, you were the last man standing for our group. In fact, if memory serves, you were also responsible for at least half the other team's eliminations. So for what it's worth, I will place credit where credit is due and congratulate you on a magnificent performance. Well done, Andre.
However, One is done and gone, and this week... This week starts anew. This week, Andre, our efforts place us across the ring from each other in a Television Championship Contender's Match. Now, I know you've had success elsewhere, much like myself. We're both former World Champions, which means we've both had the privilege of sitting atop the proverbial food chain. However, we have also both felt the cold of losing that which we value so much.
Lucy shrugs, pacing away from the bag. He takes another swig of water, taking a seat on the bench.
That being noted, you'll notice that my accolades far outnumber yours. Yes, you held multiple World Championships. But I'm a Triple Crown and Grand Slam Champion. I've held multiple World Titles, various second and third tier singles championships, and I'm a multiple time Tag Team Champion.
What exactly does that mean to you, Andre?
Simple. It means I'm the It Factor. It means I've never held any one title higher than another. Whether it's as low as a Television Championship or as high as the World Title, I carry myself as though my belt is the most important one in the business. Andre, you don't appear to have held any lower-tier championships, so allow me to explain something to you.
It is not the title who makes the man. In fact, it is the man who makes the title. I defeat you this week, then take on the Television Champion and defeat him. When I take that title, it will become more prestigious than any World Title in existence. How can I make such a claim?
Lucious grins, flicking his thumb across his nose.
Because, Mr Holmes, I carry myself with dignity and respect. I carry myself as a champion should, whether I have a belt or not. And when I hold a title, I defend it with honor. Week in and week out, I put my all on the line. I defend my title 24/7/52, and I never back down from a challenge.
You have all the talent in the world, Andre. You have drive and passion, and I deeply admire those qualities about you. But your lack of experience in lower tiers makes me wonder how much you're willing to give to this battle.
Am I going to see the same Andre Holmes who tore down Rage Maxx and Dexter Radcliffe? Am I going to be across the ring from the man who came just seconds away from winning Torneo Cibernetico?
Lucious stands, walking over to the punching bag. He starts throwing jabs, continuing.
Or am I going to get a lackluster fight from someone who doesn't see the point?
I know what's on your mind, Holmes. I know because I was there before. Some part of you is thinking that the Television Title is beneath you, that you can throw this match away and try to jettison your way straight to the top. There's a voice in your head saying that you're too good NOT to get a World Title shot.
That attitude isn't going to get you anywhere, Andre. In fact, if you bring that thought into our match this week, prepare not only to lose this week, but to watch me push the Television Championship beyond World Title status. Prepare yourself for the moment when the World Champion- be it Wade Moor, Jonny Fly, Dune, whoever- climbs off his high horse to challenge ME to be the Main Event again.
Andre, I'm bringing the fight this week. I have the Torneo to make up for, plus there's a title opportunity on the line. You have a beast waiting for you this week, my friend, and not a soul in the world is going to stop me from my destiny. I showed everyone I could adapt at One. This week, Andre, this week I show the world that I am...
A deep breath. A pause. A shot to the bag, followed by a grin.
Dangerous.
Lucious grabs his bottle of water, taking a swig. He walks off into the darkness, the camera trying to follow behind. We soon lose him, and the scene fades... To... Black...
