Post by Speede on Jul 7, 2011 18:15:50 GMT -5
Darkness. And complete darkness remains as two voices are heard going back and forth, perhaps by phone call, perhaps face to face, the answer is unclear as to which from the sounds alone, but no illumination is present as the two voices go back and forth. One of the voices is as plain as day; one of the voices is that of Roy Speede.
Roy Speede: “Hey, Alex.”
Alex: “Roy! I wasn’t expecting you back in town this week. Is everything alright, man?”
Roy Speede: “Yeah; I’m doing alright. I just thought I’d come back down here this week, to see my favorite cousin. How are things in the Haden household?”
The second voice is revealed to be that of Alex Haden, Roy’s cousin and former tag team partner, with whom he won his first tag team title belt.
Alex Haden: “I guess things are going okay over here. Bobby sprained his ankle playing youth baseball again, but you know how he is...”
Roy Speede: “Of course; he’s nine. I know as well as you do how kids are at that age... Oh, the fun times we had back then... Did I tell you I got the tag title belt back?”
Alex Haden: “No, I hadn’t heard! Who’s your tag partner?”
Roy Speede: “I’m teaming with Franky... You know, FPV? And what makes matters worse is, in my fatal four-way this week, he’s one of my opponents... I’ve let him learn a bit too much about me; I need to come up with something new. How about you and I hit the gym tomorrow afternoon and we’ll”
Alex cuts him off in mid-sentence.
Alex Haden: “Roy, didn’t you hear? The gym burned down in a fire. Happened during that massive storm last week; the building got struck by lightning. But congrats on the title win.”
Roy Speede: “What? Oh my god! Please tell me nobody was hurt!”
Alex Haden: “Nope, nobody. Thank God.”
Roy Speede: “Yeah... But no, seriously man, we need to find someplace to train then instead; I need to train if I’m going to be ready to beat FPV and the others. FPV was the one who pinned my dad and won these title belts for us.”
Alex Haden: “Wow... I really am not keeping you well enough informed am I? They did some secondary testing on the DNA sent in by you and by Logan... You’re not related. You couldn’t be further from it, actually.”
Roy Speede: “WHAT?!? Are you telling me I... Oh my god... Well then at the very least I don’t have to worry about living up to the expectations of a second generation wrestler... I still can’t stand Logan though.”
Alex Haden: “I know what you mean there; Logan is a psychopath. But no, you aren’t related to him.”
Roy Speede: “Alright, man. We’ll figure out a plan to kick FPV’s ass tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later; I’m exhausted after the drive back down here; Oley is a lot farther than you’d think. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Alex Haden: “Okay man, see ya.”
A *BEEP* is heard coming obviously from a phone, and snoring is heard as the scene starts to quiet down. The scene reopens with Roy’s voice again, still in pitch darkness.
Roy Speede: “Ahh! Stupid exhaustion... playin’ tricks on me again! Dammit. I’ll never get back to sleep now...”
The light of a lamp flicks on, and Roy is sitting along the side of his bed in his room. He has one hand wiping the sand from his eyes as he surveys the room; all his stuff is in place, from the dressers to the laptop to the TV; nothing at all is out of the ordinary, except for the fact that Roy wasn’t wearing just some flannel pants or some boxers to sleep in, but was in his bed asleep dressed in jeans and a Metal Head tee shirt.
He bends over, his body hanging down the side of the bed, reaching underneath it to find his sneakers, but to his surprise, they’re already on his feet. He shrugs it off as something his exhaustion had caused him to do, going to sleep without taking his shoes off, and stands up. He turns the ceiling light on in the room, turns the lamp off, and as he leaves the room, the camera follows him.
Roy Speede: “What a nightmare... I haven’t felt this worthless since they booked me against Doc Henry back in early April. Back then, I was a jobber, and I still beat him.”
Roy looks over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.
Roy Speede: “Look, last time I faced Doc Henry, I defeated him easily, and this time will be no different. The guy’s a veteran, and I have a lot of respect for his dedication to being here, but those thirty-nine wins and thirty-seven losses he has under his belt don’t mean a thing come match time. I’m still better than he is and ever will be. And my intial victory over him on April fourth has gotten under his skin and will haunt him to the point of nightmares over losing to Roy Speede again. But there’s nothing he can do about it; I will walk out the victor, that much is clear.”
As Roy reaches the bottom of the stairs, the scene fades to black with him getting into a bright orange Lamborghini Aventador parked under a streetlight.
Twenty minutes later...
The shot fades in from black. The scene is that of the view down the shadowed, dark, almost abandoned street, one lane in each direction, surrounded by buildings, some much taller than others, and almost all of them at least multi-story. Among those visible are a parking tower style of building, several large offices, and, more noticeable than the rest, a two-story building with signs flashing in neon colors, bright green and orange and pink and blue among them, and the most easily readable sign flashes three words one at a time from top to bottom on the sign, the top word in orange, the middle word in green, the bottom word in blue. The three words read were “THe MuSiC PLaCe”, and around the edges of the sign glowed a pink neon light that stayed on.
As the camera pans around, turning its focus to the left, then to the right, then up, then down, then repeating, a low rumble can be heard. As the rumble gets louder, the pitch increases, and what started as a low-pitched rumble like the low-note of a bass guitar begins sounding more and more like the chords of an electric guitar, increasing in volume even louder. In the distance, an ominous glow appears in direct alignment with the empty street, the glow growing and approaching at a fast pace.
As the source of the sound and the glow grows ever closer to the shot, the echo no longer sounds like a guitar at all; the full roar of a pro-caliber racing engine is heard. Two separate yet equal-sized spheres are seen to be producing the glow. All at once, the sound reaches full-volume, almost sounding like a jet taking off as into view rolls a bright orange Lamborghini Aventador at a high speed. A sharp screech is heard as the car does a sharp slide as it turns to the right, and thunders up the ramp of the car tower, the echo resonating about the tower as It goes.
After about thirty seconds, the resonance of the car’s engine within the tower fades, and the scene one again becomes quiet, a calm downtown shot. Another minute or two passes, and then a man wearing blue jeans and a black hoodie, covering his head, as well as some black sneakers. He crosses the street without looking, confident in the night leaving it empty for him, and makes his way down the sidewalk a few steps to the door of “The MuSiC PLaCe”. As he goes inside, the camera follows, and sees him sit down at a seat two or three seats down from the end of the bar, near where the bartender is standing. For being such a dark night, and presumably so late, the club has got quite a few people in it, although most are either sitting across the room from the bar in large circular booths eating and drinking or are on the dance floor enjoying themselves to the beat of lots of high-paced pop and techno music. The song playing as the camera enters the shot is the Wiz Khalifa’s “Roll Up”, but Roy doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the music.
Bartender: “Hey, Roy, what’s up bromigo? Root beer?”
Roy Speede: “Better make it a double, Horace. I’m not in a good mood.”
Horace, the bartender, grabs a bottle of root beer and a frosted mug, and fills the mug with the Stewarts brand beverage as he talks.
Horace the Bartender: “Yikes, man. What’s happenin’ to make you this angry?”
Roy Speede: “Everything you could imagine. The gym got hit by lightning and burned to the ground, after getting into a heated battle with Logan twice in a row on Slam, it turns out the battle between us was in vain- I was told he was my father, and it turned out he wasn’t. And now I’ve got perhaps the biggest opportunity of my career to this point this week; I’ve got me a fatal four way to get into the Ultimate Showdown battle royal... and I ain’t got a place to train.”
Horace the Bartender: “Wow. Damn dude, that sucks. Who are your opponents this week anyway, man? I’ve never seen you this worried about not being able to train before.”
Roy Speede: “Well, first, there’s Doc Henry. I don’t worry a bit about Doc, Horace. He’s a veteran, but he doesn’t have the talent to beat the rest of us in the match, and I’m surprised he even got booked with the kind of record he has for that kind of stuff. And last time he was in a battle royal in the main event, he was the outlying factor, just like he is this time. He’s the one that doesn’t matter a bit. Hell man, I beat Doc Henry before, I can do it again. So what if he’s this veteran to the company? Like ninety percent of the victories he’s picked up in the company were against jobbers, and the others were probably via disqualification. There’s no way in hell he can beat me.”
Horace the Bartender: “And you’re still this worried about training?”
Roy Speede: “Not because of Doc Henry I’m not. I’m worried about the other two. The one of those two that worries me the most is Mr. FPV. He’s my tag team partner, and we’ve got the belts around our waists. I mean, he’s probably the best all-around fighter in this match because of the combination of strength and speed he has; he’s got a lot stronger of an upper body than I do. And last time we met in the ring as opponents, he did beat me, and in the semifinals of the WCF Classic too. He received more help than most patients in nursing homes to do it, but he still scored the pin. He’s the one in the match that really scares me. I know I can best him though; I would’ve beaten him in the WCF Classic had he not had help, and I can beat him this time.”
Horace the Bartender: “Oh shit... What about the other guy? Is he a problem for you?”
Roy Speede: “Steve Thunder? The only thing about him that worries me is that I haven’t seen a damned thing he can do. I’ve ignored his matches except for his hideous loss against Odin Balfore a couple weeks ago and last week when he lost to my girlfriend. He did give a bit of an impression in those matches, but he’s gotten only one significant win since returning to the company last month. And on top of that, he’s stupid enough to go out and get drunk off his ass right before his match. I mean, I come to the club to have some fun too, but I don’t drink alcohol, man. You know me.”
Horace the Bartender: “Yeah, I know what you mean...”
The song changes, and on comes Ke$ha’s “Blow”. Roy hangs his head a bit when he hears the song.
Horace the Bartender: “What? You don’t like Ke$ha? I could’ve sworn you were a fan of her music last time you were in here.”
Roy Speede: “It’s not that I don’t like the music, Horace. I mean, quite honestly, I love the beat. This particular one just stresses me out a bit; it’s my girlfriend’s theme song, and thinking about her and how I decided to come down to Richmond for a few days rather than staying by her side to protect her is bothering me.”
Horace the Bartender: “Girlfriend? You never told me you had a girlfriend! Who’s the lucky girl?”
Roy Speede: “Lucky? She isn’t really lucky; I’m the lucky one. She’s the most beautiful, smartest, most athletic and in-ring capable, most perfect girl this world has ever witnessed. She could have any man her heart desires with so much as saying ‘hi’ to him. I’m the lucky one.”
Horace the Bartender: “Wow. So what’s the big deal? So you’re not there to keep an eye on her. If she cheats on you, so be it. It would just show she wasn’t the right girl for you, man.”
Roy Speede: “I’m not worried about her cheating, Horace. I trust her with my life; I’m sure she wouldn’t cheat on me. She has too much self-respect for that. What I’m worried about is that I’m not there to defend her. She’s been having some bully troubles.”
Horace the Bartender: “Bully troubles? Isn’t she a wrestler?”
Roy Speede: “Yeah, but she’s too innocent and sweet to start something backstage. It’s this other girl that’s been messing with her for these past few weeks. It all started when she made her debut; the other girl walked up to her and started harassing her, and it’s gotten worse and worse every time they bump into each other. Anything and everything she can think of to make her life more miserable, from beating her up to playing tricks on her to manipulating her into doing stuff for her and abusing her verbally to even touching her inappropriately...”
Horace the Bartender: “Why don’t you go to the boss and have him make her stop harassing your girl, dude? That sounds logical!”
Roy rests his head on his hand for a moment, his elbow against the surface of the bar’s counter, and lets out a heavy sigh as “You Make the Rain Fall” by Kevin Rudolf starts to play over the club’s speakers.
Roy Speede: “If only it were that simple, Horace. Kaylyn’s dating the boss; she can pretty much do whatever she wants... That’s the girl’s name that’s messing with my Aubrey; Kaylyn.”
As Roy finishes his statement, a hand is placed on his shoulder, and the arm attached to is lays across the back of his neck and on his other shoulder as someone has a seat on the bar stool next to him.
Caring Soul: “What’s this about Kaylyn James Evans?”
Roy Speede: “Oh, she’s just being such a... Wait a minute... I didn’t mention her full name. How do you...”
Roy looks over at the figure sitting next to him, and nearly falls off the bar stool as hs flails back; sitting beside him is Kaylyn James Evans in the living flesh, wearing a white blouse, the bottom buttons undone and the shirt tied up, the top few buttons undone showing off her cleavage, knee-high black boots, a black skirt, and fishnet stockings.
Roy Speede: “Kaylyn?!? What are you doing here?!?”
Kaylyn James Evans: “Come now Roy, you didn't think you could honestly get away with talking shit on me did you?”
Roy relaxes a bit and sits back up straight on the barstool, facing Kaylyn a bit; sure he is angry at Kaylyn, but he isn’t about to get kicked out of his favorite club.
Roy Speede: “No, I didn’t. But stalking me four-hundred miles back to Richmond and confronting me at three in the morning in a club is kinda... excessive, don’t you think? I mean usually people just talk shit in their promos.”
Kaylyn James Evans: "Promotionals are one thing. I am more of a.... hands-on approach person. I am sure you can understand that Roy."
Kaylyn smirks before moving closer to him. Her thighs pushing his legs apart before she steps between them.
Kaylyn James Evans: "So Roy.. what was it you were saying about me again?"
Roy slides back as far as he can on the bar stool; for the first time in a while, he is getting a bit intimidated. And it is Kaylyn James Evans of all people.
Roy Speede: “I’ve been saying that you’ve been picking on my girlfriend, and that needs to stop. Talking to you as a friend didn’t get you to back off; talking to you as an enemy has at least swayed your focus to me. Just don’t hurt her; I will do anything to protect her, Kaylyn. And that includes tearing you limb from limb.”
Kaylyn James Evans: "Silly Roy."
She laughs before pushing his legs together and stepping up onto the stool on one side before lowering herself straddling his lap.
Kaylyn James Evans: "It's so cute to hear you talk that way... but my attention has not been on Aubrey Summers."
She smirks before running her hand through his hair, lowering her head down towards his own before her lips come to rest at his ear.
Kaylyn James Evans: "My attention has been... on you Roy."
He pushes her back a bit, trying to get her off of him, a bit uncomfortable by the situation.
Roy Speede: “Get off me, Kaylyn. You know I’m already dating Aubrey. I’m not going to let you seduce me into cheating on her.”
His hand grabs at the collar of her blouse, trying to pull her away from him, but she won’t budge.
Roy Speede: “And what exactly do you want with me, anyway?”
Seeing him trying to get her off of him got that smirk of hers growing. Taking hold of both his hands she pins them down to his sides, having more strength than he thought was possible. He tries to fight it, but it’s no use.
Kaylyn James Evans: "Don't fight it Roy. She never has to know."
Kaylyn smirks before lowering her lips upon his very briefly before pulling back. Roy is still struggling to get free, but he is becoming very tempted by her seductive ways. She is still smirking as she pulls herself closer to his body while still in his lap before lowering her lips to his ear once more.
Kaylyn James Evans: "Don't fight me Roy. You know you don't really want to."
Her lips trailed from his ear back over towards his lips before pressing against them once more. He keeps struggling, trying to get away from her, but she was too strong even for him. As much as he knows it’s wrong, he is sorta enjoying it; in the back of his mind, however, thoughts of Aubrey start to creep in; he keeps telling himself he will not cheat on her, but that gets harder and harder for him to do with Kaylyn right there.
Roy Speede: “Kaylyn, knock it off. This isn’t funny anymore!”
He keeps trying to suppress his mixture of fear and intimidation, as well as any sign of pleasure, but slips, and lets out a slight whimper.
Kaylyn James Evans: "Don't fight it Roy... just cave in. Cave in and it will all go away."
Her lips came back to his once more deepening that kiss. His arms and body were pinned down, and there was literally no way out of this for him. A tear ran down his face at the thought of hurting Aubrey.
Roy Speede: “No, Kaylyn. I’m not going to... mmm...”
He was interrupted by her kiss, and found himself giving in, letting himself kiss her back. The shot cuts to black as an echoing scream bounces through the darkness.
Roy Speede: “AHHH!”
The lamp flicks on in Roy’s room. Roy sits up on his bed, dangling his legs off the sides, and looks up at the clock.
Roy Speede: “Two fifteen... But I was at the club at three o’clock... Wait... The bar... Kaylyn... The kissing... It was all just a dream. It couldn’t have been real. I would never let Kaylyn get to me, and I’d never hurt Aubrey...”
He looks down, and sees he is in his favorite flannel pants and a plain white tee shirt; he got up and looked outside, out his window, and saw his Ford F150 outside parked in the driveway; it had all been a dream.
Roy Speede: “I knew it couldn’t be real. It never was. God... I’m going to need to pay more attention to the match; nobody is going to steal my shot at Ultimate Showdown this time.”
Roy lays back down in his bed, and leans over, cutting off the lamp, effectively cutting the scene to black.
Roy Speede: “Hey, Alex.”
Alex: “Roy! I wasn’t expecting you back in town this week. Is everything alright, man?”
Roy Speede: “Yeah; I’m doing alright. I just thought I’d come back down here this week, to see my favorite cousin. How are things in the Haden household?”
The second voice is revealed to be that of Alex Haden, Roy’s cousin and former tag team partner, with whom he won his first tag team title belt.
Alex Haden: “I guess things are going okay over here. Bobby sprained his ankle playing youth baseball again, but you know how he is...”
Roy Speede: “Of course; he’s nine. I know as well as you do how kids are at that age... Oh, the fun times we had back then... Did I tell you I got the tag title belt back?”
Alex Haden: “No, I hadn’t heard! Who’s your tag partner?”
Roy Speede: “I’m teaming with Franky... You know, FPV? And what makes matters worse is, in my fatal four-way this week, he’s one of my opponents... I’ve let him learn a bit too much about me; I need to come up with something new. How about you and I hit the gym tomorrow afternoon and we’ll”
Alex cuts him off in mid-sentence.
Alex Haden: “Roy, didn’t you hear? The gym burned down in a fire. Happened during that massive storm last week; the building got struck by lightning. But congrats on the title win.”
Roy Speede: “What? Oh my god! Please tell me nobody was hurt!”
Alex Haden: “Nope, nobody. Thank God.”
Roy Speede: “Yeah... But no, seriously man, we need to find someplace to train then instead; I need to train if I’m going to be ready to beat FPV and the others. FPV was the one who pinned my dad and won these title belts for us.”
Alex Haden: “Wow... I really am not keeping you well enough informed am I? They did some secondary testing on the DNA sent in by you and by Logan... You’re not related. You couldn’t be further from it, actually.”
Roy Speede: “WHAT?!? Are you telling me I... Oh my god... Well then at the very least I don’t have to worry about living up to the expectations of a second generation wrestler... I still can’t stand Logan though.”
Alex Haden: “I know what you mean there; Logan is a psychopath. But no, you aren’t related to him.”
Roy Speede: “Alright, man. We’ll figure out a plan to kick FPV’s ass tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later; I’m exhausted after the drive back down here; Oley is a lot farther than you’d think. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Alex Haden: “Okay man, see ya.”
A *BEEP* is heard coming obviously from a phone, and snoring is heard as the scene starts to quiet down. The scene reopens with Roy’s voice again, still in pitch darkness.
Roy Speede: “Ahh! Stupid exhaustion... playin’ tricks on me again! Dammit. I’ll never get back to sleep now...”
The light of a lamp flicks on, and Roy is sitting along the side of his bed in his room. He has one hand wiping the sand from his eyes as he surveys the room; all his stuff is in place, from the dressers to the laptop to the TV; nothing at all is out of the ordinary, except for the fact that Roy wasn’t wearing just some flannel pants or some boxers to sleep in, but was in his bed asleep dressed in jeans and a Metal Head tee shirt.
He bends over, his body hanging down the side of the bed, reaching underneath it to find his sneakers, but to his surprise, they’re already on his feet. He shrugs it off as something his exhaustion had caused him to do, going to sleep without taking his shoes off, and stands up. He turns the ceiling light on in the room, turns the lamp off, and as he leaves the room, the camera follows him.
Roy Speede: “What a nightmare... I haven’t felt this worthless since they booked me against Doc Henry back in early April. Back then, I was a jobber, and I still beat him.”
Roy looks over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.
Roy Speede: “Look, last time I faced Doc Henry, I defeated him easily, and this time will be no different. The guy’s a veteran, and I have a lot of respect for his dedication to being here, but those thirty-nine wins and thirty-seven losses he has under his belt don’t mean a thing come match time. I’m still better than he is and ever will be. And my intial victory over him on April fourth has gotten under his skin and will haunt him to the point of nightmares over losing to Roy Speede again. But there’s nothing he can do about it; I will walk out the victor, that much is clear.”
As Roy reaches the bottom of the stairs, the scene fades to black with him getting into a bright orange Lamborghini Aventador parked under a streetlight.
Twenty minutes later...
The shot fades in from black. The scene is that of the view down the shadowed, dark, almost abandoned street, one lane in each direction, surrounded by buildings, some much taller than others, and almost all of them at least multi-story. Among those visible are a parking tower style of building, several large offices, and, more noticeable than the rest, a two-story building with signs flashing in neon colors, bright green and orange and pink and blue among them, and the most easily readable sign flashes three words one at a time from top to bottom on the sign, the top word in orange, the middle word in green, the bottom word in blue. The three words read were “THe MuSiC PLaCe”, and around the edges of the sign glowed a pink neon light that stayed on.
As the camera pans around, turning its focus to the left, then to the right, then up, then down, then repeating, a low rumble can be heard. As the rumble gets louder, the pitch increases, and what started as a low-pitched rumble like the low-note of a bass guitar begins sounding more and more like the chords of an electric guitar, increasing in volume even louder. In the distance, an ominous glow appears in direct alignment with the empty street, the glow growing and approaching at a fast pace.
As the source of the sound and the glow grows ever closer to the shot, the echo no longer sounds like a guitar at all; the full roar of a pro-caliber racing engine is heard. Two separate yet equal-sized spheres are seen to be producing the glow. All at once, the sound reaches full-volume, almost sounding like a jet taking off as into view rolls a bright orange Lamborghini Aventador at a high speed. A sharp screech is heard as the car does a sharp slide as it turns to the right, and thunders up the ramp of the car tower, the echo resonating about the tower as It goes.
After about thirty seconds, the resonance of the car’s engine within the tower fades, and the scene one again becomes quiet, a calm downtown shot. Another minute or two passes, and then a man wearing blue jeans and a black hoodie, covering his head, as well as some black sneakers. He crosses the street without looking, confident in the night leaving it empty for him, and makes his way down the sidewalk a few steps to the door of “The MuSiC PLaCe”. As he goes inside, the camera follows, and sees him sit down at a seat two or three seats down from the end of the bar, near where the bartender is standing. For being such a dark night, and presumably so late, the club has got quite a few people in it, although most are either sitting across the room from the bar in large circular booths eating and drinking or are on the dance floor enjoying themselves to the beat of lots of high-paced pop and techno music. The song playing as the camera enters the shot is the Wiz Khalifa’s “Roll Up”, but Roy doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the music.
Bartender: “Hey, Roy, what’s up bromigo? Root beer?”
Roy Speede: “Better make it a double, Horace. I’m not in a good mood.”
Horace, the bartender, grabs a bottle of root beer and a frosted mug, and fills the mug with the Stewarts brand beverage as he talks.
Horace the Bartender: “Yikes, man. What’s happenin’ to make you this angry?”
Roy Speede: “Everything you could imagine. The gym got hit by lightning and burned to the ground, after getting into a heated battle with Logan twice in a row on Slam, it turns out the battle between us was in vain- I was told he was my father, and it turned out he wasn’t. And now I’ve got perhaps the biggest opportunity of my career to this point this week; I’ve got me a fatal four way to get into the Ultimate Showdown battle royal... and I ain’t got a place to train.”
Horace the Bartender: “Wow. Damn dude, that sucks. Who are your opponents this week anyway, man? I’ve never seen you this worried about not being able to train before.”
Roy Speede: “Well, first, there’s Doc Henry. I don’t worry a bit about Doc, Horace. He’s a veteran, but he doesn’t have the talent to beat the rest of us in the match, and I’m surprised he even got booked with the kind of record he has for that kind of stuff. And last time he was in a battle royal in the main event, he was the outlying factor, just like he is this time. He’s the one that doesn’t matter a bit. Hell man, I beat Doc Henry before, I can do it again. So what if he’s this veteran to the company? Like ninety percent of the victories he’s picked up in the company were against jobbers, and the others were probably via disqualification. There’s no way in hell he can beat me.”
Horace the Bartender: “And you’re still this worried about training?”
Roy Speede: “Not because of Doc Henry I’m not. I’m worried about the other two. The one of those two that worries me the most is Mr. FPV. He’s my tag team partner, and we’ve got the belts around our waists. I mean, he’s probably the best all-around fighter in this match because of the combination of strength and speed he has; he’s got a lot stronger of an upper body than I do. And last time we met in the ring as opponents, he did beat me, and in the semifinals of the WCF Classic too. He received more help than most patients in nursing homes to do it, but he still scored the pin. He’s the one in the match that really scares me. I know I can best him though; I would’ve beaten him in the WCF Classic had he not had help, and I can beat him this time.”
Horace the Bartender: “Oh shit... What about the other guy? Is he a problem for you?”
Roy Speede: “Steve Thunder? The only thing about him that worries me is that I haven’t seen a damned thing he can do. I’ve ignored his matches except for his hideous loss against Odin Balfore a couple weeks ago and last week when he lost to my girlfriend. He did give a bit of an impression in those matches, but he’s gotten only one significant win since returning to the company last month. And on top of that, he’s stupid enough to go out and get drunk off his ass right before his match. I mean, I come to the club to have some fun too, but I don’t drink alcohol, man. You know me.”
Horace the Bartender: “Yeah, I know what you mean...”
The song changes, and on comes Ke$ha’s “Blow”. Roy hangs his head a bit when he hears the song.
Horace the Bartender: “What? You don’t like Ke$ha? I could’ve sworn you were a fan of her music last time you were in here.”
Roy Speede: “It’s not that I don’t like the music, Horace. I mean, quite honestly, I love the beat. This particular one just stresses me out a bit; it’s my girlfriend’s theme song, and thinking about her and how I decided to come down to Richmond for a few days rather than staying by her side to protect her is bothering me.”
Horace the Bartender: “Girlfriend? You never told me you had a girlfriend! Who’s the lucky girl?”
Roy Speede: “Lucky? She isn’t really lucky; I’m the lucky one. She’s the most beautiful, smartest, most athletic and in-ring capable, most perfect girl this world has ever witnessed. She could have any man her heart desires with so much as saying ‘hi’ to him. I’m the lucky one.”
Horace the Bartender: “Wow. So what’s the big deal? So you’re not there to keep an eye on her. If she cheats on you, so be it. It would just show she wasn’t the right girl for you, man.”
Roy Speede: “I’m not worried about her cheating, Horace. I trust her with my life; I’m sure she wouldn’t cheat on me. She has too much self-respect for that. What I’m worried about is that I’m not there to defend her. She’s been having some bully troubles.”
Horace the Bartender: “Bully troubles? Isn’t she a wrestler?”
Roy Speede: “Yeah, but she’s too innocent and sweet to start something backstage. It’s this other girl that’s been messing with her for these past few weeks. It all started when she made her debut; the other girl walked up to her and started harassing her, and it’s gotten worse and worse every time they bump into each other. Anything and everything she can think of to make her life more miserable, from beating her up to playing tricks on her to manipulating her into doing stuff for her and abusing her verbally to even touching her inappropriately...”
Horace the Bartender: “Why don’t you go to the boss and have him make her stop harassing your girl, dude? That sounds logical!”
Roy rests his head on his hand for a moment, his elbow against the surface of the bar’s counter, and lets out a heavy sigh as “You Make the Rain Fall” by Kevin Rudolf starts to play over the club’s speakers.
Roy Speede: “If only it were that simple, Horace. Kaylyn’s dating the boss; she can pretty much do whatever she wants... That’s the girl’s name that’s messing with my Aubrey; Kaylyn.”
As Roy finishes his statement, a hand is placed on his shoulder, and the arm attached to is lays across the back of his neck and on his other shoulder as someone has a seat on the bar stool next to him.
Caring Soul: “What’s this about Kaylyn James Evans?”
Roy Speede: “Oh, she’s just being such a... Wait a minute... I didn’t mention her full name. How do you...”
Roy looks over at the figure sitting next to him, and nearly falls off the bar stool as hs flails back; sitting beside him is Kaylyn James Evans in the living flesh, wearing a white blouse, the bottom buttons undone and the shirt tied up, the top few buttons undone showing off her cleavage, knee-high black boots, a black skirt, and fishnet stockings.
Roy Speede: “Kaylyn?!? What are you doing here?!?”
Kaylyn James Evans: “Come now Roy, you didn't think you could honestly get away with talking shit on me did you?”
Roy relaxes a bit and sits back up straight on the barstool, facing Kaylyn a bit; sure he is angry at Kaylyn, but he isn’t about to get kicked out of his favorite club.
Roy Speede: “No, I didn’t. But stalking me four-hundred miles back to Richmond and confronting me at three in the morning in a club is kinda... excessive, don’t you think? I mean usually people just talk shit in their promos.”
Kaylyn James Evans: "Promotionals are one thing. I am more of a.... hands-on approach person. I am sure you can understand that Roy."
Kaylyn smirks before moving closer to him. Her thighs pushing his legs apart before she steps between them.
Kaylyn James Evans: "So Roy.. what was it you were saying about me again?"
Roy slides back as far as he can on the bar stool; for the first time in a while, he is getting a bit intimidated. And it is Kaylyn James Evans of all people.
Roy Speede: “I’ve been saying that you’ve been picking on my girlfriend, and that needs to stop. Talking to you as a friend didn’t get you to back off; talking to you as an enemy has at least swayed your focus to me. Just don’t hurt her; I will do anything to protect her, Kaylyn. And that includes tearing you limb from limb.”
Kaylyn James Evans: "Silly Roy."
She laughs before pushing his legs together and stepping up onto the stool on one side before lowering herself straddling his lap.
Kaylyn James Evans: "It's so cute to hear you talk that way... but my attention has not been on Aubrey Summers."
She smirks before running her hand through his hair, lowering her head down towards his own before her lips come to rest at his ear.
Kaylyn James Evans: "My attention has been... on you Roy."
He pushes her back a bit, trying to get her off of him, a bit uncomfortable by the situation.
Roy Speede: “Get off me, Kaylyn. You know I’m already dating Aubrey. I’m not going to let you seduce me into cheating on her.”
His hand grabs at the collar of her blouse, trying to pull her away from him, but she won’t budge.
Roy Speede: “And what exactly do you want with me, anyway?”
Seeing him trying to get her off of him got that smirk of hers growing. Taking hold of both his hands she pins them down to his sides, having more strength than he thought was possible. He tries to fight it, but it’s no use.
Kaylyn James Evans: "Don't fight it Roy. She never has to know."
Kaylyn smirks before lowering her lips upon his very briefly before pulling back. Roy is still struggling to get free, but he is becoming very tempted by her seductive ways. She is still smirking as she pulls herself closer to his body while still in his lap before lowering her lips to his ear once more.
Kaylyn James Evans: "Don't fight me Roy. You know you don't really want to."
Her lips trailed from his ear back over towards his lips before pressing against them once more. He keeps struggling, trying to get away from her, but she was too strong even for him. As much as he knows it’s wrong, he is sorta enjoying it; in the back of his mind, however, thoughts of Aubrey start to creep in; he keeps telling himself he will not cheat on her, but that gets harder and harder for him to do with Kaylyn right there.
Roy Speede: “Kaylyn, knock it off. This isn’t funny anymore!”
He keeps trying to suppress his mixture of fear and intimidation, as well as any sign of pleasure, but slips, and lets out a slight whimper.
Kaylyn James Evans: "Don't fight it Roy... just cave in. Cave in and it will all go away."
Her lips came back to his once more deepening that kiss. His arms and body were pinned down, and there was literally no way out of this for him. A tear ran down his face at the thought of hurting Aubrey.
Roy Speede: “No, Kaylyn. I’m not going to... mmm...”
He was interrupted by her kiss, and found himself giving in, letting himself kiss her back. The shot cuts to black as an echoing scream bounces through the darkness.
Roy Speede: “AHHH!”
The lamp flicks on in Roy’s room. Roy sits up on his bed, dangling his legs off the sides, and looks up at the clock.
Roy Speede: “Two fifteen... But I was at the club at three o’clock... Wait... The bar... Kaylyn... The kissing... It was all just a dream. It couldn’t have been real. I would never let Kaylyn get to me, and I’d never hurt Aubrey...”
He looks down, and sees he is in his favorite flannel pants and a plain white tee shirt; he got up and looked outside, out his window, and saw his Ford F150 outside parked in the driveway; it had all been a dream.
Roy Speede: “I knew it couldn’t be real. It never was. God... I’m going to need to pay more attention to the match; nobody is going to steal my shot at Ultimate Showdown this time.”
Roy lays back down in his bed, and leans over, cutting off the lamp, effectively cutting the scene to black.
