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Discussion in 'WZCW Roleplay Board' started by Rainbow Yaz, Aug 31, 2018.
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Mr. Jones: Man are we seriously driving all the way to fucking Kentucky of all places?
Tyrone: Correction Jones, you're the one driving all the way to Kentucky of all places.
Mr. Jones: Man you seriously making me drive the whole way?
Tyrone: Yes motherfucker, I'm getting my 40 winks in since you couldn't do the ONE GOD DAMN THING I PAY YOU FOR AND BOOK THE PLANE TICKETS.
The scene opens to Mr. Jones and Tyrone Blades driving in Tyrone's Escalade, Blades reclined all the way back with the title lying in his lap while Jones stares forward, a grim look on his face.
Mr. Jones: So what y'all know about that boy Flex brought out?
Tyrone: What? His hired muscle?
Mr. Jones: Yeah, I saw it in yo eyes Blades. You knew exactly who he was.
Tyrone: Yeah, yeah I know exactly who that mo'fucka is. He rolled with me a number of years ago and the crew I put together.
Mr. Jones: Which one?
Tyrone: Does it matter?
Mr. Jones: Man y'all got like fifty groups in your history. I just need to know if it was a group that actually DID something ya feel me?
Tyrone: Y'all scared Jones?
Mr. Jones: Yeah I'm scared of him sitting on me. So you gonna fucking answer the question or what mo'fucka?
Tyrone sighs as he reclines back up, grabbing a cigarette from the pack in the center console and lighting it up. He rolls the window down, holding his arm out the window as he exhales slowly, the smoke flying out the vehicle.
Tyrone: Ight fine damn. Wasabi Toyota.
Mr. Jones: Wait, his first name is fucking WASABI?
Tyrone: Yeah, what about it?
Jones cracks up laughing as he lights a cigar up of his own as he inhales deeply before the smoke rolls from his lips, one hand gripping the wheel tightly.
Mr. Jones: I just...who the fuck goes by Wasabi?
Tyrone: Let me make some shit real fucking clear to you Jones. He might have the name mix of a sushi palette cleanser and an overrated car brand, but he's no fucking joke. After he joined up with the Apostles he became a killer and a walking wrecking ball.
Mr. Jones: Yeah whatever man. I'll punk his ass out like that.
Tyrone suddenly sits up straight and spins his head towards Jones, his eyes narrowing at him as he slams his fist onto the dash of the Escalade.
Tyrone: This isn't a fucking joke Jones! If I'm sitting here fucking telling you that he's not someone you want to fuck with, it's someone you don't want to fuck with you feel me? And the last time I saw him he fucking wrecked me no less. Take this shit seriously Jones. If you want to help me keep this fucking title, I need you to neutralize him as much as you can. Triple threat means there ain't no fucking rules, and while I do my best, we got 3 motherfuckers gunning for us now. You know the target's right on my god damn back after Vega and I did work last week.
Mr. Jones: You're really worried about this ain't you?
Tyrone: It's a fucking wild card that we don't need to deal with. For once don't use your brawn, use your fucking brain Jones. Pull some Bruce Lee shit and use his own momentum against him.
Mr. Jones: Ight, ight. Damn so he's that good huh?
Tyrone: We need him out of the equation real fucking quick. I can't look over both shoulders while I'm blasting Eve or Flex in the face.
Mr. Jones: I think Eve would appreciate the facial work.
Jones and Tyrone go silent for a moment, Tyrone stifling a smirk before the two crack up laughing as Tyrone howls throwing his head back as he leans back into his seat.
Tyrone: Shit that'd be the most attention she's gotten in weeks. She's in this match and ain't no one caring to make mention of her. Seems her little goth makeover ain't going so fucking swimmingly.
Mr. Jones: She's just pulling a reverse you.
Tyrone: I mean someone's gotta fill the dark and melancholy quota around here. Mikey's too busy creepin on Callie to pull that emo shit again.
Mr. Jones: I feel like we're missing some marketing money on that. You know, aside from the Pachinko machines.
Tyrone: Would y'all shut the fuck up about that?
Mr. Jones: Not a fucking chance homie.
Tyrone shakes his head as he takes a deep drag from his cigarette once more as the scene slowly fades away. It soon returns that evening in Louisville, Tyrone sitting outside on the deck of his hotel suite, overlooking....whatever Louisville has to offer. He yawns as he kicks his feet up onto the table, scrolling through his phone before calling someone. It rings a few times as he sets the phone to speaker and places it on the table. He lights a cigarette up again and takes a few drags when a familiar voice answers.
Batti: Hi Baby!
Tyrone smiles wide as he ashes his cigarette before leaning back more into his chair, puffing absentmindedly as he closes his eyes.
Tyrone: Baby girl it's good to hear your voice again. How's the world tour going?
Batti: Oh my god you wouldn't believe what me and Aquarius have done! Well first we did a lot of shopping, and now we're in Venice. We're going to ride on the river tomorrow.
Tyrone: Man I wish I was with y'all right now instead of where I'm at.
Batti: Where are you at?
Batti: Wow, Kentucky?
Tyrone: Yuuup. The best part of it, but still Kentucky.
Batti: I truly am sorry.
Tyrone: You and me both.
Batti: You're tagging the city tonight aren't you?
Tyrone: It probably would be an improvement.
Batti: Wait...aren't you a man of the people now?
Tyrone: I'm pretty sure people in Kentucky would agree with me.
Batti: ...Fair point. Why didn't you just stay in Cleveland and fly in the day of?
Batti: He forgot the plane tickets didn't he?
Tyrone: You got it.
Batti: Did you at least split driving time?
Tyrone: Fuck no. AND I made him stay in the econo hotel around the corner.
Batti giggles over the phone as Tyrone smirks before putting his cigarette out.
Batti: You're too strict on him some times.
Tyrone: Not strict enough if he's forgetting important shit.
Batti: So changing subjects, I saw you got Eve and Flex at the PPV.
Tyrone: Yeah, can't seem to get away from the old Cerberus to save my life.
Batti: ...You want to get away from me?
Tyrone: You know exactly what I meant. Besides you ran away from me.
He laughs making sure Batti knows he's joking around as she giggles in return. when the sound of music can be heard in the background. Tyrone quirks an eyebrow.
Tyrone: At the club tonight?
Batti: Definitely. I just stepped outside to talk to you baby.
Tyrone: Well far be it from me to keep you from Aquarius and some crazy shit.
Batti: You sure?
Tyrone: Of course baby girl. Go do you, I'm gonna.....shit the fuck am I gonna do here?
Batti: Go find someplace with some fancy water.
Tyrone: Even Flex didn't dare put one of his fucking terrible gyms here for me to go trash.
Batti: Or maybe sleep for once?
Tyrone: ...Do what now?
Batti: Sleep. That thing you maybe get two hours of a night.
Tyrone: That's just fucking crazy talk.
Batti: Speaking of crazy, the DJ just announced it's now a bubbles and foam party! Gotta go baby love you!
Tyrone contemplates life as he sits back in his chair, puffing idly on his cigarette.
Writer's notice: This is the part where I would discuss and dissect my opponent Xander this round. Unfortunately, the writer has gone mad from dealing with a Cybersecurity audit for the past two days that will lead to a full blown testing of my company's security measures, spent all of last week preparing for it, while being a father of a nine year old and a ten month old. There is nothing in the tank. Nothing. Not even whiskey can resuscitate what remains into a viable living consciousness. So to Xander and everyone else, I apologize, it is unbecoming of me as champion, but I'm using my Steamboat Ricky's Shaving RP card that I have held onto for so long. And yes, a roughly 1500 word RP will be my shaving RP. I will fully embrace the L that comes with this, and vow to deliver my magnum opus for R Awakening.
A Tavern in Phoenix, AZ
Two Days Before Meltdown 154
The door creaked open as the man walked into the grimy, dimly lit tavern, nodding at a handful of people sat at some equally dimly-lit tables. They nodded back he made his way to the bar, taking a seat.
‘Joe; double whiskey when you’re ready.’
‘You got it Pete.’
The barman continued about his business, as Pete lent forward on the bar, throwing a few dollars onto the counter. He looked to his left; a man was leaning forward just as he was; the hood of his jacket up and a whiskey of his own in front of him, untouched. He continuously tapped his nails onto the counter, as if waiting impatiently for something.
‘Haven’t seen you in these parts before.’
‘You from out of town, right?’
‘You could say that.’
The man nodded as the barman returned with a glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels, pouring the drink.
‘Another, while you’re at it.’
‘Another?’ He finished the question as he looked down, noticing the still-full glass.
The barman, Joe, shook his head as he poured another, sliding it over.
‘Hey Joe, you catch Meltdown the other week?’
‘Man, I gotta tell you. Never thought Wasabi Toyota would be back in a WZCW ring.’
‘Yeah, tell me about it. That Flex has thought of everything.’
‘You think he’ll beat Tyrone Blades though? It is Tyrone Blades we’re talking about.’
‘I mean, yeah, he’s a legend. And I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but why not? Flex isn’t a new guy now; he’s cold, calculating and has been better than ever since the beatdown that Triple X put on him when he returned.’
‘True that. Hey, what happened to that guy?’
‘I know, right? He was all cool with his moves off the top, then he lost a few matches and turned into some spoiled brat.’
‘I saw him live before he made it in WZCW.’ One of the guys sat against the far wall had caught wind of the conversation, taking a swig of his beer before continuing. ‘Yeah, he was good. A nice guy too; did autographs until the line had gone, took photos for no extra fee. No, he was a good kid.’
Pete chuckled. ‘And look at him now.’
Another chuckle came from the man in the hood. ‘Yeah…’ Xander took the hood down and smiled.
‘Whatever did happen to that guy?’
‘So, question for y’all. And I think I know the answer already, but…who here’s a Ty Burna fan?’
The men in the bar, clearly feeling uncomfortable, all stayed quiet. Pete looked down into his whiskey, as if hoping an answer would sprout forward from it.
‘Come on, ‘Pete’. Tell me; what are your thoughts on Ty Burna?’
‘He’s a legend, son.’
‘Right! Right, good. That’s good.’ Xander looked to the barman. ‘And how about you, ‘Joe’? Do you think the Harbinger of Chaos is a legend?’
‘Well…he is in the Hall of Fame.’
‘Yeah, and he does have a record-setting World Championship reign.’
Xander turned to stare at the man at the back of the bar. ‘I…I don’t know your name, nor do I care to, but I appreciate the input.’
Xander swivelled round to both Pete and Joe. ‘I used to be in awe of Ty Burna. The orchestral music would hit, he’d walk down that ramp, and the hair on my arms would stand on end. You knew when he was announced that you were in for a special night.’
He picked up the glass in front of him and took in the smell of the alcohol contained inside it.
‘Look at him now.’
‘Sorry bud, but I don’t get it. Tyrone Blades is every bit of the legend he’s made out to be. And on top of that, he’s also the current World Heavyweight Champion.’
‘He does have a consistence of excellence.’
‘And on top of that; he’s himself. He used to have all the mysticism and devilry about him but now he’s a straight-up gangster. Don’t take no shit from nobody.’
‘Yeah, and that’s what we like about him.’
‘Hell, why are we even listening to you? You struggled to beat the Mall Cop last time out. You had to cheat.’
He smiled. ‘I win no matter the cost. I don’t hold myself up to being a role model. If I see an opportunity I take it. I’m not like those Live Mas fucks who think they can be role models while using brass knuckles to gain an advantage. At least I’m honest about that. And I’ll do whatever I’ll need to in order to beat him. And I will beat him.’
The men sat there, shaking their heads, almost laughing.
‘Of course you don’t get it. Look at you; your bodies rotting away with this poison inside.’ Xander held up the glass to them both. ‘The problem I have, my new-found friends, is this. How, and why, does Ty Burna become Tyrone Blades?’
‘So he fancied a name change? I mean, you can’t exactly talk, right? ‘Triple X’.’
Xander smiled, tapping his nails once again on the sticky bar surface. ‘Ty Burna is a name associated with legend. Once under the shadow of Vengeance, he broke out, vanquishing his master inside Hell in a Cell. I remember being there that night, watching on, being so awe-struck at what I had seen. He held that belt for a record-setting amount of time; something that no one will likely ever match. A reign only broken by Titus’s Eurasian Championship reign. He’s done virtually everything in pro-wrestling there is to do. But Ty Burna is a symbol; something that you can’t really comprehend. Tyrone Blandes on the other hand is a man. Just like you. Like me. As a man, he is more relatable. He’s mortal. And he can be loved like Ty Burna never could.’
‘You’re saying it’s a play. It’s a play because Ty Burna wants to be loved? You’re outta your mind.’
‘Maybe. But it makes sense. It’s funny; I hate assholes like you who cheer who you cheer and boo who you boo, and flip and flop between the two, but he’s playing you at your own game. He could only be loved so much as Ty Burna but at Tyrone Blades, people can look on him as a man.’
Xander turned and faced Pete directly. ‘And I can’t fucking stand him.’
‘So the guy’s got the better of you. How long ago was that; like, three years ago? Four? You need to let go.’
‘Probably. But you need to let go of the JD before your liver gives out. Ain’t stopping you, is it?’
‘So, what, because Blades wasn’t announced for the match you’re pissy? Just because you weren’t told?’
‘Pissy? Nice word.’
‘Answer the question, asshole.’
Xander turned, staring at the barman intently. ‘Those are fighting words.’ His voice had dropped to a far more chilling demeaner. ‘Let me make something clear to you, fuckface. If I wanted to I could drop you in a second and choke the ever-loving life out of you. So I’d watch your tone.’
His serious demeaner then evaporated back to a smile. ‘What was the question? Oh, yeah. Too fucking right I was pissy. How the fuck would you feel?’
‘I…I think I’d just-‘
‘Just what? Huh? Get on with it? Accept a last minute change as gospel? Like hell you would. I had a match between myself and Ricky Runn, one on one, and then El Califa Dragon got his masked-ass involved. Fine; you know what, fine. I can deal with that. I prepared for that. What I can’t stand is someone using their ‘legendary’ status like that to just get inserted into Championship matches. Triple X versus Ricky Runn. THAT should have been the main event.’ Xander stops and takes a breath; the demons that had been bothering him for four years laid out on the table, with the central crux of it finally acknowledged.
‘Look at what I've done since being back. I bested Titus one on one twice; once in his god-damn match. I beat Constantine while he was number one contender. I beat Lynx. I've proven that I should have had a shot at that Championship and yet here I am, still in the same spot. Ty Burna had no business being in that match, but he took fucking advantage, and he won. He became World Champion, on the night that I should have had my hand raised. I had the title won at Unscripted that year, and were it not for a war with Blade earlier on in the evening I’d have fucking won it then. That was an opportunity. This was destiny. My time.’
The men in the bar sat there in silence as the former Triple X stared down into the alcohol he had purchased. The awkward, hyper-personal vibe was thick, with others further inside taking notice.
‘Maybe…this isn’t where you need to be.’ Pete leaned in a little closer, in almost a comforting manner. ‘Kid, you need help. You can’t cling onto this shit for four years. And you can’t blame him for that.’
Xander looked up. His entire demeanor shifted again, with that annoying-as-fuck smile returning to his face.
‘I don’t. I blame you.’
Xander stood up, taking a couple of steps to the door before turning back. ‘All of you. You’re the reason. You poison everything by attaching sentiment and weight to it. You push people up and create legends, just by chanting a name. You pick some up only to drop them but others…no, you hold them to a higher standard. And why? Ty Burna is a bully. He’s put people through literal hell and you hold him up as a legend. I put my life on the line every time I was out there, just for you, and you gave a shit some of the time. All he has to do is walk through the crowd, or down the ramp and…shit. It’s more important than anything. No fucking more. He may hold that Championship, but I will not wait at the back of the line forever. That Championship will be mine, and so will Ty Burna’s legacy.’
Xander smiled, shaking his head. ‘I’ll do what I have to. To him, I’m just another guy he has to put in the ground. But for me…this has been building. And I do not care what I have to fucking do to end him. I’ll take what he took from me, and just like his former name, Tyrone Blades will fade away.’
He walked back to the bar, grabbing the two whiskeys, chuckling to himself. ‘It's funny, you know; my dad used to come to this bar. He used to say there was a wrestling crowd that lived in here. Then when I had enough money for a fake ID, I’d come here too. Listen and learn from the men who knew how wrestling worked, and who were the ones to cheer. Nice to see things haven’t changed.’
He slammed them down in front of both Pete and Joe, some of each drink shooting over the sides.
‘These are for you, fellas. Choke on them; it’d be a shame for them to go to waste.’
Xander walked to the door, puling it open. He spoke without turning to the men before walking through.
‘With love, assholes.’