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RP #1 For Match –
False Start [RP IN] [PROMO - UNDENIABLE WORDS] OK, so that wasn't the best start I ever had. No, wait, let's not sugarcoat it. Let's get the honest truth out in the open. That was probably the worst start I've ever had in my professional wrestling history- and one of the worst and most humiliating losses I've suffered. I imagine Chad is probably hopping around in circles ranting on about how he was right all along and I'm nowhere near the wrestler my propaganda makes me out to be, and I look like an absolute idiot. I've had losses in my early career that had more dignity than this one- and that is really saying something. There are many ways a man can deal with a downright humiliating loss such as this. Some have been known to spit the dummy, throw a complete rant and rave and proceed to ragequit the federation. Some throw the biggest tantrum of all time and claim to commit suicide because they didn't get what they want. Some start coming up with wild and insane accusations about how management somehow 'favored' the other wrestler and genetically modified them to make them better wrestlers or some shit like that. I'm not going to do any of the above. Some might argue that I'd be well within my rights to go into denial about last week due to Ranma Saotome's role in things, but you know something? I should have been better, and I should have been able to anticipate and shut down these sorts of tactics. So no, I'm not going to wave the 'you only won because of Ranma so I'm still better' flag around. I didn't anticipate it and it was legal in this match, so it's my own damn fault. So I suppose Chad's now going to be running his mouth endlessly about how he beat Steve Jason and how he's the best in the company and blah blah blah. I'm not going to stop him. I'm going to suggest he make the most of it, because when the time is right I will come after him again, and I will take this entire achievement and burn it to ashes. Mark. My. Words. But that's another day and not my concern right now. The fact of the matter is that the loss was actually beneficial in a way- it made me realise that while I may have been 'the man' back in the day, I have a lot to learn and a little catching up to do. It's obvious I have to work on things in order to re-ascend to the top, and to redeem myself- and to save face so to speak. Fortunately, it looks like fate is going to throw me a bone, because next week's the perfect opportunity to 'save face'. Between them we've got an annoying little weasel who I have unfinished business with, we have the man responsible for last week's humiliating loss, and then we have The Man With The Most Unoriginal Nickname In Recorded History. I mean, seriously, don't we have like ten Antichrists in the XWF's history? But regardless of what I say, if ever there was a time to regain some dignity, this is it. Ranma Saotome. It's obvious enough that you're a man of intelligence. We get reminded of that pretty much every five seconds whenever you speak- I have to admit, it's always quite amusing how you start trying to address a point and proceed to ramble on about God knows what, throwing every word in the English language into the mix. But that's beyond the point- you've made it obvious you're a thinking man and that you obviously at least have some kind of brain on you. What I can't understand, therefore, is your incredibly paradoxical lack of any kind of common sense whatsoever. It's really quite baffling- here you have this man who's obviously got some kind of college-level training in the humanities- English, philosophy, theology, mythology, fair bit of cultural grounding in there too- and then he makes quite possibly some of the most moronic mistakes I've seen anybody in this company make. The sad thing is, he really should know better. At least Chad has the defense of being a brainless idiot. He doesn't have the capacity to know when he's getting in over his head- and believe me, he's still well over his head. Ranma doesn't have that excuse. I mean, we've seen him join the Black Order- something which for the past several years has been established as detrimental to a man's career rather than positive. Then we saw him team up with Chad of all people- and we all know that's going to last right about until Ranma has something Chad wants, which probably won't be that far away. But even then, I didn't think he was so hare-brained stupid to try to pull what he did last week. The man didn't just get involved in my match- oh no- he did something far, far worse. By making me lose to Chad, he committed the one cardinal sin nobody in this federation wants to commit- he besmirched my honor. You know, Ranma, you can smirk all you want about how you're still waiting for those ramifications I promised, but you and I both know that you're not out of the woods yet. In fact, making me wait is probably the worst thing you could have done- if I'd just been able to obliterate you right then and there, at least it'd have been over quick. Now we have to do it the hard way. It's going to be a long, drawn out process all the way to Born Arrangement, and I intend to make you painfully aware of exactly what's awaiting you at the PPV, and how there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. In a way I'm glad that you refuse to apologise for what you did and that you're defiant to the end, because that absolves me of any possible guilt or reluctance I might feel in making your life a living hell for the next near-fortnight. If I were a loser goth with no originality, I'd probably say I'm going to pull some Drag Me To Hell-style shit on your arse, but to be honest it's probably something more along the lines of what that lunatic from Tropic Thunder promised- I will rain down an ungodly firestorm upon you, I am talking scorched earth, I will massacre you, and I most definitely will fuck you up. And by God, you're going to see it coming, and you're going to do everything you can to avoid it, and in the end it won't make a god-damn lick of difference anyway. As of Thursday, Ranma, consider your arse on DEFCON 1- and consider it only a few short days away from FUBAR. But you're not the only person I have to deal with here, Ranma. Contrary to what some fools might be willing to do, I'm not going to lose sight of the full picture. I'm not going to let some primitive evolution of penis envy blind me to the bigger picture. And since we're on the topic of penis envy, who better to mention next than Aidan Collins? Aidan and I have a little bit of a pattern going, one that he'll give you his own little skewed version of and never stop crowing about. Usually it involves him bragging on about how he beat me. In reality, the cycle goes like this- Aidan Collins either pins somebody else or calls in one of his buddies to cheat for him, brags about it, takes it to mean he can never lose to me again, and then surprise surprise, I track him down and hand him an absolutely crushing defeat that eclipses what petty victory he had, and usually about a week later he disappears from the XWF to work on his acting. That's always his excuse. Acting. Never a ragequit, never injured, never lost faith- it's acting. Tell me, Aidan, don't you find it a little convenient that every time you take a sabbatical to work on your so-called acting career- and I use that term very loosely because quite frankly I consider any 'acting' of yours to be a crime against Western civilization- it's usually after you get your arse absolutely and utterly handed to you? Yeah. Curious, that. But of course, that shouldn't surprise many people, because when it comes down to it, Aidan Collins is pretty much the undisputed king of shit-talking. Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good trash-talk as much as the next guy, but there's a considerable difference between dueling it out in a promo, and just spewing utter garbage for the hell of it. Aidan's kind of like those moronic retards in a pink polo shirt that we've currently got polluting our gene pool. I don't think the man even thinks about what he says, and quite frankly it seems to me that his only real attempts at psychology involve trying to be as grossly offensive as possible. The thing is, Bliz, you rant and rave on about how this place is in the gutter and how you're the one who's going to save it, but let me ask you this- when was the last time you were champion for more than a couple of fortnights? As I recall, every time you've won the Universal title you've cracked under the pressure and piss off to go into your acting career. How is that any better than having the PWE in control of the place? And how in God's name can you hang shit on James Raven for losing the title when you know damn well that you haven't exactly done all that much better yourself? I'm going to tell you the frank and honest truth, Aidan- having you as Universal Champion is going to be an unmitigated disaster for the XWF, if your previous history with the belt is anything to go by. I suppose this is the point where you shoot back and call me a koala-fucker, and make some kind of comment about Dougy and shrimps on the barbies and Steve Irwin and such, right? That, or you'll drag the whole Setsujoku-Kai thing back out of the grave. Do me a favor, Bliz- please, please, please come up with something original for once. I'm having a hard enough time staying awake through your normal promos, if you drop into kangaroo/ninja/Dougy territory I might end up sleeping through the next week, and we just can't have that. [RP IN] DATE/TIME: 8:30 PM,
Monday August 17, 2009 [CAST]
One thing was for sure- Thursday Anarchy was indeed a black mark on Steve Jason's career. Steve had taken bad losses before- who in this federation hadn’t? – but this went beyond the usual disappointment that went with a loss. No, this was deeper, because Steve knew in his heart that it was a loss he was above. Losing to Chad was nothing short of catastrophic- it wasn’t just professional loss, but personal. The man was an arsehole. He didn’t even deserve his job, much less a win like that, and Steve knew in his heart the little rodent would be crowing on about it and using it as a soapbox to forward his rants. The thought that one moment of carelessness might have given Chad serious footing wasn’t just humiliating- it reeked. A literal stink of failure hung around Steve, a stink that was going to take some serious effort to cleanse.
People were going to pay. That much was certain. This would not go unavenged, and Steve would not allow himself to go unvindicated. He would not rest for a moment until Chad was back where he belonged- vanquished at Steve’s feet like the roach he was. It wasn’t a possibility, it was a certainty- and it was only a matter of time. But obviously, last week proved one thing- he would need to take out other targets. Ranma Saotome had thrown in his lot with Chad, so he’d share in his fate- and once Chad’s bodyguard fell at his hand, the Censored One would be silenced permanently.
All things considered, in most situations Steve would have brooded over that point for hours on end- if not days. And for the first couple of days, that was what he’d done. He’d avoided his friends and spent a lot of time re-watching the tapes over and over, reminding himself of his failure and determining never to allow it to happen again- and mentally formulating a plan of attack to punish his foes. Mercifully, however, business had beckoned in the form of none other than Walter Crowe, friend and associate of Andy ‘Centurion’ Cortinovis- and somebody Steve had found himself getting along with in recent days. Walter had called out of the blue to discuss a possible business deal- probably at Centurion’s instigation to keep his friend from dwelling on the humiliating defeat- and naturally, Steve and Sergei Volkov had to seize the day.
Thus it was that the front revolving door of the Trump Centurion Resort in Las Vegas spun around to allow the commanding and executive officers of Avenger Private Security Company into the main plaza of the casino, both Steve and Sergei moving like men on a mission over the packed marble floor. A pale blue short-sleeved shirt covered Steve’s upper body, matching his stone-washed jeans and making it clear that Steve was clad in leisure apparel. Sergei on the other hand was dressed far more officially in a black pinstripe business suit and pants, a white turtleneck visible beneath the jacket, both men drawing a few glances as they crossed the floor.
“Big place..." Sergei noted.
“Andy's not exactly poor." Steve replied, “And that's not even counting Crowe into the mix. Between 'em, those two probably have enough money to buy you and me several times over."
“I'd have expected you to be richer than Centurion though."
"Not a chance. Whatever difference there is in our paychecks- and I don't even know what his is- pales in comparison to his business ventures. Avenger PSC's like a flea in comparison to Centurion Enterprises. Hell, it's probably even bigger than the Richards Conglomerate- not like I have much of a good standing with them any more after blowing Nestor's plans apart for the greater good. But yeah- Andy's far, far richer than I am."
"Does that ever bother you?"
"Not really. What would I do with a billion dollars? I have a hard enough time deciding what to do with the money I already make- and besides, I can barely be bothered doing my own tax return without having to worry about a billion dollars, several casinos, etcetera to worry about. Andy's having fun with it and I'm glad he is, but it's not for me."
Walter’s location turned out to be a corporate box in one of the public halls of the resort used for public performances, concerts and similar acts. As soon as Steve and Sergei entered, they had to come to a halt to admire the downright breathtaking interior of the pavilion- far from a simple balcony box, this seemed to be its own self-contained suspended hotel room, complete with a plasma TV, several expensive leather couches, soft carpeting, various statues, paintings and other artwork, and even a fireplace. It was split in half- the first half under a ceiling, and the other half jutting out over the corporate box itself. It was in this outside section that Walter Crowe sat in a large leather chair, his back to the two men.
"Yo! Walter! You've got company..." Steve announced his presence to the Centurion Enterprises CEO.
“Ah, I was wondering when you'd come along." Walter Crowe rose to his feet, smoothing his tuxedo jacket as the two men got close to the chairs.
"Vegas traffic is a serious pain in the arse, man..." Steve seized the businessman's hand in a friendly handshake, "How's life?"
“Somewhat busy, but that's to be expected." He motioned to the two seats on the other side of the table, “Take a seat, please."
"Much obliged." As Steve sank down into the plush chair, the door of the box opened again and this time an impeccably-dressed waiter entered the room with a PDA in one hand and a stylus in the other. He made his way over towards the table, then spoke in a somewhat refined, respectful tone of voice.
"Mr. Crowe. Gentlemen. Can I get you any drinks?"
“I’ll have a martini, thank you,” Walter replied with aplomb.
“Vodka on the rocks.” Sergei, on the other hand, was straight-to-the-point.
“I reckon I’ll go a Canadian Club and Coke, thanks.” Steve was somewhere in-between. The server nodded and made his way back through the door to the main bar, leaving the three men alone to enjoy the view below the box.
There was most definitely a show on- but not the kind Steve was expecting. The amphitheatre floor was, for one, completely covered with a sheet of slippery, frosty, thick ice. Chilled air seemed to be coming down through vents from the ceiling above, and the seating areas were far back from the main floor as if to spare the patrons exposure to the cold air. Music was playing in the background- classical music, something by Tchaikovsky if Steve's memory served – and on the frozen floor itself were various groups of leotard-clad ice skaters, moving around in formations while performing graceful twists and turns and various other moves.
“Figure-skating?” Sergei blinked.
“We figured it would be a refreshing change from the summer heat." Walter explained as the waiter returned with the three beverages on a silver tray, setting it down on the table in front of them. He picked up his own glass in a free hand, then continued,
“I have to admit, I love the twisting and the turning…” Sergei observed as he looked down among the skaters. Steve didn't even look up as he replied.
“Dude? Don’t ever say that again. It makes you sound like a complete and utter retard."
Sergei opened his mouth to speak, but then suddenly there was movement from the icy floor, where all of the skaters save one had backed off to their respective sides of the makeshift rink. Only one person was visible in the center now- a slender redhead clad in a white-and-pink vest and skirt. All attention focused on the lone skater as the music changed to become a little softer and more graceful- as if to match the character of the lone skater. She knelt down in the center of the rink as if awaiting something, giving the three men time to speak again.
“So we might as well get down to business I suppose.” Steve began, his eyes tracking over to Walter, “What can Avenger PSC do for you, Walter?”
“Putting your official face on, I see…” Walter observed, ““Fair enough. I was actually seeking you out for some security advice. Our own security is sufficient for us right now, but we’re always looking to improve our own service, and word is that your company specialises in the kind we’re looking to improve upon. Plus, Andy assures me that you’re a man who takes this line of business very seriously.”
“Glad to see the reputation precedes us. What’s the issue? You seem to have enough guards, that’s for sure.”
“Well, right now we’re looking into ways we can improve our surveillance systems. They’re important enough in ordinary establishments, but when it comes to gambling, and gambling at a casino this calibre, there are going to be people who… refuse to play fair.”
“In other words, you need to catch gamblers cheating. Fair enough, every casino needs a system. What’re you after exactly?”
“Well, right now, I’d be looking for an assessment of the system. Some people to look into it and see if there’s any way it can be improved or anything we’ve overlooked. It’s sort of a consulting job rather than actual security. Have you got anybody who could take a look at it?”
Steve scratched at his chin at that, “You’re in luck, Walter. We’ve been hiring a few electronic and IT whizzes in the past few weeks to get that side of things off the ground. If you want, I can send ‘em on over to take a look at the resort.”
“Could you? That would be greatly appreciated.” Walter seemed set to continue, but he cut himself off short as more motion began to become visible from the icy floor below. The woman in the center of the ring now rose up suddenly, her skirt fanning out around her as the classical-style music suddenly rose to a triumphant new level of volume, timed perfectly so the noise rose as she did. Then with virtually no notice, she flew forward, her auburn tresses flying out behind her and her blue eyes flashing to life as she breezed effortlessly along the ice, curving in graceful, fluid movements.
“Not a bad investment, Walter, I have to say…” Steve complimented Walter on the show, watching the dance unfold below.
"You know, I could pull a few strings and arrange an introduction..." Walter was clearly enjoying himself now, an enigmatic chuckle escaping him.
“As tempting as that is, Walter, I'll let it go. I've got a few more priorities at the moment that rank above harassing figure skaters."
"Well, Walter, I think that you should think on it..." Sergei piped up, a faintly amused look on his face, "After the last couple of days, I think SJ could use a one night stand to get some frustration out of his system."
“You're an idiot." was Steve's only contribution. Walter, however, had a thoughtful expression on his face- evidently he was just waiting for this topic to be broached. He knew exactly what Sergei was eluding to, and when he finally spoke, he had that infamous advising tone he'd used on Andy a few times.
“In all seriousness, Steve, you can’t dwell on it. We’ve all had bad losses. I’ve had them. And really, you should look at Andy if you want an example. There have been a lot of times he’s taken bad losses that have made him feel like giving up. And look at him now- World Champion for the third time. Yes, it’s embarrassing, and I understand, but what’s done is done now. You can’t go back in time, all you can do is do something to put it right.”
“I know.” Steve quietly nodded in agreement, “Just a bitter pill to swallow is all.”
“What you need to do is look to the future. You, James and Centurion have a tough fight ahead of you next week. All three of you are going to have to be at peak condition and will need to work cohesively as a unit. This is a critical point for all three of you- and it’s the chance to turn things around for the Prophecy. Born Arrangement will be much easier for you if you can pick up momentum. Seize the day, SJ. Seize the day.”
“That’s a pretty sound way of looking at it, strategically.” Sergei added, “I’m no wrestler, but the basic rules of warfare aren’t all that different. A lot of wars started with the victors on the back foot before they could push them back and then go on the offensive. Sounds to me that’s what you three need to do. You’ve got to hold them here and force them back, then you pursue your enemies all the way to Born Arrangement. It worked in World War 2.”
“That it did." Steve conceded, raising an eyebrow slightly as the dancer on the ice leaped up into the air and twirled before landing gracefully on one skate, “Christ. Too many more moves like that and I might have to take down her number."
"We can talk about that later..." Walter chuckled, "In the meantime, I should probably let you two go. I know this sort of thing isn't exactly your scene. You're more than welcome to hit the casino floor however, if you like."
"Now that's more like it." Steve smirked, rising to his feet, "Well, Walter, I just wanted to say thanks for the invite. Kinda needed to get out of the house for a bit, get my head back into the game, y'know?"
"Of course. That's why I invited you out here. The business happened to be a bit of a bonus, if you catch my drift. But now that we've gotten you out of that little down-in-the-dumps moment, you can begin the process of turning it all around. So what are you going to do?"
"Turn it all around." Steve smirked, "Tell Andy not to feel so down, Walter, because I have a feeling that we're going to come out with the last laugh this week. I mean, things can't honestly get any worse than a loss to Chad, can they? Only way to go is up, and it's about time to start that climb. And I believe I'm going to start by making a goddamn killing on the roulette table!"
A brow raised, and Walter actually managed to laugh heartily at that, a smile crossing his face, "Not quite what I had in mind, but I guess that's more money for us. Go and have some fun, Steve. You've got a very busy week ahead of you."
That, Steve had to admit, was probably the understatement of the year.
[UNDENIABLE WORDS - CONTINUED] Then we got... Dante Anglais, is it? I have to hand it to him on the use of the word 'Anglais'- because it's about the only thing about him that isn't completely and utterly cliche. I swear to God, we need to ban Devil May Cry for a few years, because people seem to be under the delusion that calling yourself 'Dante' and connecting yourself to the Antichrist somehow makes you cool. Uh, yeah- except that Dante Alighieri was a poet who spent most of his life mooning over some chick he had a massive crush on, and the Divine Comedy also happens to end with him visiting heaven in addition to Hell. Oh yeah. Everyone seems to forget that it's a grand tour of every plane of reality, just not Hell. But hey, let's not let the facts get in the way of a cool name, yeah? And hell, if that's not bad enough, for some everyone seems to think we're related! People really need to get over this fixation of linking me with other wrestlers. Marcus Enderton shows up to the XWF, and the poor kid gets bombarded with ‘next SJ’ comments for the short time he was here, and now you’ve got morons like Chad rambling on about how I supposedly look a little like Dante Anglais. OK. We get it. We’ve got some similar features. We’re not the same guy and he’s not my identical twin. Move on. And on that topic, who the hell cares if I grew my hair out? At least a couple of people have been rambling on since I shaved off my beard and let my hair grow out like I committed some kind of capital crime. Newsflash folks, people get haircuts. It happens. I’m still the same guy, so get over it and move on.
Alright. I had to get that out of my system, sorry for that folks. Dante Anglais, what can I say about him. I’ll give the kid some credit, he’s been quite impressive for a newbie. Better than the usual run-of-the-mill curtain-jerker. But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder if he’s getting a rather over-inflated sense of his worth around here. The man gets a few wins, and then all of a sudden he decides he’s going to try to eradicate the Prophecy? That’s the impression I get anyway, he’s been talking an awful lot of shit in the past few weeks.
Mind you, that’s nothing new. I’ve seen the same attitude since the dawn of my career here. Somebody with a fair bit of promise, but an overinflated notion of how good they are decides to start talking crap about the popular guys. We’ve even got a name for it in Australia- ‘tall poppy syndrome’. Basically somebody with a lot of insecurities and usually some doubt issues starts snapping at the people who are achieving higher than them. The thing is, the person who talks crap thinks they’re looking all tough and badarse by standing up to the big stable, but in reality all most of their peers see is a Chihuahua yapping at passing cars. Sure, it’ll talk crap and put on a front, but in reality if a Chihuahua attacked a car, it’d get splattered.
Well, Dante, I guess now’s your time to answer the question. Around here, you don’t talk crap unless you’re prepared to back it up. You ran your mouth- some might even argue you went a little too far- and now one of two things is going to happen- you’re going to stand your ground and support your point, or you’re going to get pasted all over that canvas and everything you’ve blathered on about becomes a complete joke. And I don’t particularly have any qualms about any embarrassment you may suffer as a result- as far as I’m concerned, you should have thought about it before running your mouth.
In case you haven’t noticed, Dante, I’m a little annoyed right now. I have some serious steam to work off, and it was always going to be bad news for whoever I was posted against this week.You might think that because I’ve got history with Aidan or a grudge with Ranma that you’ll somehow slip beneath the radar. Do not be fooled. As far as I’m concerned, any target will do- whoever’s unfortunate enough to get on the other side of me can expect to go through the wringer. I guess you get what you want, Dante- you’re sure as hell not going to be overlooked any more. I will not overlook you. But I think by the end of it, you’ll probably be wishing that I had.
Ladies and gentlemen, as far as I am concerned this Anarchy is a turning point. There seems to be this opinion that right now I- and the Prophecy by extension- are weakened targets prime to be finished off. People like Chad seem to think they can go around assaulting us whenever they feel like it. People like Ranma Saotome seem to think they can interfere in something that's none of their business and not pay the price. People like Dante Anglais seem to think they can yap at us and not have to back it up. People like Aidan Collins seem to think they can play under some kind of 'nothing is sacred' rule and act like complete and utter wankers and not have to eat their words later. That ends right here, right now. I think it's damn well about time you douchetards were reminded just who it is you're dealing with- and believe me, by the end of Anarchy, you're gonna know all too damn well. And that...
...IS UNDENIABLE!
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