Post by Wade Moor on May 10, 2019 16:27:34 GMT -5
Manhattan, NYC
Club Violet East, Opening Night
The red light district was living up to New York’s moniker of “The City That Never Sleeps” as Wade Moor - flanked by his #beachkrew nillas - approached the grandiose doors to Club Violet East. A bouncer greeted them, checked the list, then waved them forward. Wade was ninety percent certain they weren’t on the list, but “any port in a storm” at this point. It’s not like he was some jaybrone, he was a fucking WCF legend in his Gawdnilla Damned right.
Jared Holmes: Not too shabby, I guess.
Ryan Lockhart: I thought it was going to be some smelly hole in the wall.
Alexander Pasternak: Imagine not eating smelly hole in 2019.
They laughed but Wade remained stoic. He was here on a mission and he aims to complete it. The Gator Pimp lied in wait and Wade was looking for a new set of boots. They walked into the club and were immediately met with some low sounding boom boom that completely threw off the energy. They were handed complementary drinks as they walked towards their booth. Jared ordered #bottleservice and a few girls before they settled in.
Ryan Lockhart: The hell are we doing here anyways?
Alexander Pasternak: I’m here to meet cute boys.
Jared Holmes: And I’m fucking chopped liver?
The two playfully fought for a second before the conversation descended into further madness, recounting plenty of past revelry as their bottles arrived. They proceeded to get plenty fucking lit as the club started to fill up around them. Celebrities and influencers alike made themselves known, even if only for a minute. Eventually, eleven turned to midnight and the hunt was on. The record scratched to a halt and the crowd started to cheer as someone familiar took the stage.
MC: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN PUT YO MOTHAFUCKIN’ HANDS TOGETHA FOR ONE OF THE BADDEST NIGGAS ON THE PLANET, STEEEEEEEEEVE OOOOOOOORBIIIIIIIIIT!!!
The crowd fucking erupts as The Mack walks out on the stage, fully nined out in his pimp garb, from the gold trimmed feather plumed hat down to the Mauri gators. He takes a moment to soak in the adulation from the crowd before taking the mic from the MC.
Steve Orbit: Whats good, Club Violet?!
The crowd erupts again.
Steve Orbit: Ay, y’all enjoying yourselves?
The crowd nearly blows the lid off the joint.
Steve Orbit: Yo, I got a surprise for y’all tonight. I know you’re here to see bitches but we got a former colleague from my pro wrestling days, a bad motherfucker ladies and gentlemen, Wade Moor!
The crowd goes absolutely dog shit. Wade cracks a smile as he gets up from his booth. He could smell the blood in the water. Orbit waves him up to the booth, unknowingly acknowledging his certain fate. Wade saunters to the stage, bumping nikkas out the way leftways and right. He climbs the steps in his battle worn shit kickers...but he reckoned they had another battle in them yet.
Steve Orbit: Wade Moor! Hell Yeah, get this man a drink!
Steve offers him a glass of the most expensive champagne in the place. Wade smiles out of the corner of his mouth before downing the glass and asking for another! They hesitantly pour another glass of champagne for him.
Steve Orbit: Shit, this man gonna shut us down. Hold on a minute playa.
Wade goes to drink the glass, but stops and holds his hand up. He looks towards Orbit - who now has a look of immediate regret in his eyes. Wade takes a step towards Orbit whose holding his hands up in defense.
Steve Orbit: Step back, my nigga or...
Wade comes in closer and steps the heel of his boot down rough on the fringe of Orbits Mauri Gators. The look on Orbits face could kill, but he keeps his composure as the two hundred and forty pound Florida Man drives his flintstone into his pedicured foot.
That’s how you start a fire in a pimps cold heart.
Steve Orbit: Yo, what the fuck? Are you drunk?
Orbit pulls back and launches towards Wade, shoving him away! Wade stumbles back immediately and clocks Orbit with a right hand! The record scratches again as the two are about to start brawling on stage! Security rushes in from everywhere and gets in between the two, keeping them completely separated! Wade fucked on it. He already had a time and place.
An end to the game.
Security escorted him through the crowd and bounced him out the front door. One of the more loyal of them tried to pick a fight with Wade, but he head butted him dead in the bridge of his nose and the satisfying sound of a crunch accompanied it. The man fell to his knees and a boot to the face put him completely out. The rest of security scooped their friend off the ground and hurried back inside.
Wade stood their smiling.
He still had it.
In fact, it nevah evah left.
The rest of #beachkrew filed out of Club Violet East, obviously confused, but accepting never the less. This was almost par the course for Wade. Set them up and kill em dead.
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“Is this the part where I make some geeky comic book reference? Nah, I ain’t about that shit. I’m only here for one thing and that’s to beat the holy hell out of Steve Orbit? Why? Is there some underlying reason, some cosmic collision that made me select Steve Orbit as the unfortunate victim in all this? Maybe, but it might not be what you expect. I could say I picked him to see if he was still about it, to see if he could have ONE MORE MATCH in him, but the simplest explanation is I picked him because I wanted to. Because I fucking can.
“That’s the power Wade Moor holds in this day and age. Do you think anyone else could have walked into Club Violet, ripped Steve Orbit off the couch and out of retirement? Hell no, man. Does being so far above the rest of WCF’s roster mean I’m going to underestimate Steve Orbit? Absolutely not. I’m not an idiot. He’s one of the absolute best to lace them up, a motherfucking legend in his own right...but me? I’m just that much better. Orbit hasn’t seen the inside of a wrestling ring for a few years but I never left. I’ve been going one hundred percent since two thousand fifteen. Every week I leave it all in the ring.
“This week, I’m leaving Steve Orbit in the ring, a broken and beaten mess. You could have walked away Orbit. I get it though, your ego wouldn’t let you. What happened at Club Violet East has been burning you up inside and not just because I disrespected you in your spot...but because I’m in your spot. You saw some young punk glaring back in your eye, stepping on your gators, and you remembered what it was like being “the guy”. “The guy” that used to be on top until he got complacent, and then when complacency ran out he just up and left. No farewell tour, no nothing. Couldn’t even go out on his back for someone, for shame my guy.
“I’m gonna give you the chance to redeem yourself at Endgame in this fantasy match up for the ages. This is WCF’s final show and I’m gonna give them a good one when I stomp the motherfuck out of one of the all time greats. If you still got a problem after Endgame Orbit, then you know where to find me. Action Wrestling. Come to Clash, come to Evolution, I don’t give a fuck. Let’s do it, Steve. One more match, one more match to show the world if YOU STILL GOT IT or you’re just ONE FALL away from completely retiring.
The choice is yours bruh.
See you in Philly.”
