ERROR 404: RP NOT FOUND [Rocco EoD 3.1]
Oct 13, 2019 16:08:21 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and Dave D-Flipz like this
Post by Steele on Oct 13, 2019 16:08:21 GMT -5
Our scene begins with a dramatic wide-angle shot of the interior of some vast facility.
It looks sort of like the warehouse scene from "Raiders of the Lost Ark," except instead of a warehouse we are clearly inside of some kind of factory.
Production lines trundle along robotically, the machinery inside the factory emitting a low, rumbling drone. Moving parts move (as they are wont to do) as conveyor belts transport components from one station to another; automated, mindless robots constructing yet more automated, mindless robots.
Along the central aisle walk two figures. Indistinguishable at a distance, they stand out thanks to their bright yellow hard hats and high-visibility vests. They appear to be deep in conversation as they walk slowly towards the camera, hands clasped behind their backs - save for the odd gesture from one man or the other towards the machinery, the men nodding sagely as they discuss the assembly line.
As the two men draw closer, we see that they are none other than Rocco Rose and Harry Hansen, and their conversation starts to become audible.
Rocco Rose:
Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. I see. I have to say, I'm very impressed.
Harry Hansen:
These robots are top-of-the-line. The best in the world. You won't find better anywhere else.
Rocco Rose:
The Chinese models are cheaper, though.
Harry Hansen:
The Chinese models are inferior. The unit cost might be cheaper, but that's because they skimp on the materials. You know what they say - "buy Chinese, buy twice". These American models will last you a lifetime.
Rocco nods slowly.
Rocco Rose:
Well, you've convinced me. Sign me up for ten-thousand. No- a hundred thousand!
Harry pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to Rocco, who mimes signing it.
Rocco Rose:
And now, thanks to my army of sentient Roombas, I will take over the world! Muahahahahaha!
Harry Hansen:
Haha... ahahahaha.... HAHAHAHA!
Rocco Rose:
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Rocco and Harry really milk the laughter, drawing it out for an awkwardly-long time. As they compose themselves, Rocco turns to face the camera.
Rocco Rose:
What is it with me, and getting forced to face all the freaks that the XHF Network has to offer? Seriously - first it was Hyperion, who thinks he's an ancient god. And now it's Jeremiah Vastrix. And if you thought Hyperion was bad, then wait til you get a load of this guy. This guy is building a robot army. At least Hyperion is recruiting real people to his cause. At least he can apparently make friends. Vastrix has to build his!
And if a robot army isn't good enough for ya, Jeremiah Vastrix has got... hang on, let me check I got this right.
Rocco looks at the piece of paper in his hand, and shakes his head.
Rocco Rose:
No. This can't be right. It says here that Jeremiah Vastrix has cybernetic augmentations. Harry, is this some kind of a joke?
Harry holds his hands up.
Harry Hansen:
No joke, kid. I swear, this is from his official bio.
Rocco Rose:
Huh. Well he's apparently got two robotic eyes, and a database implanted in his brain. A freakin' database!
Harry Hansen:
You know what he uses that for, don'tcha?
Rocco Rose:
Heh. I can guess. It says here that he stores statistics on his opponents in that database of his but... come on, Vasty - just admit it. You got it for porn, didn't you? How much do you have saved up there? A nerd like you probably doesn't get laid all that often...
Or ever, more like.
Rocco holds out a fist for Harry to bump, which is a weird sight to behold. Harry normally espouses the "old-school" no-nonsense approach, and to see him here, dressed in factory PPE and bumping fists with Rocco is somewhat jarring.
Rocco Rose:
But alright, I'll bite. I'll believe you when you say you've got some chip in your brain that analyses your opponents and finds weaknesses - but it's not gonna do you much good against me, Vasty. I suggest you ask for your money back because there ain't a supercomputer on this planet that can find fault with my performance.
You just try it. You ask your little robo-brain to give you a flaws report on Rocco Rose and all you'll get back is "ERROR 404: WEAKNESSES NOT FOUND."
If you so much as even think about trying to evaluate one of my performances I hope to god that you downloaded some RAM because you'll need it to be able to keep up with a masterclass from the Technical Professor.
Rocco starts to walk towards us, but then stops again. He holds up one finger, as if he had just remembered something important.
Rocco Rose:
But speaking of "God".
You go around calling yourself "God's Gift", Jeremiah Vastrix. Ha. Very cute. Very cute. But perhaps when you're cranking up that ol' brain of yours, maybe you'll want to analyse yourself a little inconvenient truth.
I fucking killed God.
I broke the Mad Titan, the one and only Hyperion - the man who would have you believe that he is a Greek God descended from Mount Olympus. I did it twice. And I dismantled the myth of the "Technical God" Sang-Hyun Lee.
Jeremiah Vastrix, I'll have no problem marking "God's Gift" with the words "return to sender" at Prestige 41.
Rocco takes off his hard hat and casts it aside, then peels off the hi-vis vest and lets it fall to the floor.
Rocco Rose:
Because the next End of Days show is taking place at AWF Prestige, I'll be on home turf. And don't you worry about the fact that I have two matches that night... I have more than enough in the tank to get the job done on both fronts.
See, our match could go a number of different ways. For a start, I could just take advantage of all your fancy electronic parts and, I dunno - just throw a bucket of water over you. Or perhaps I could just work you so hard with technical wizardy that I force you to short-circuit yourself, you'll be sweating so much.
Hmm.
Rocco strokes his chin, deep in thought.
Rocco Rose:
Yes. Maybe that's the way I'll go. I think it would be rather fitting - since we'll be fighting inside of the old Union Workhouse.
For all your tangible riches outside of the ring, you are but a pauper next to me when it comes to technical wrestling ability. And the penalty for pauperdom is very clear - you get sent to the workhouse.
Though in your case, I'll spare you the mill. I'll spare you the back-breaking labor of the Victorian age - the same labor you force upon those Mexican immigrant slaves you "employ" - but don't think you're getting off lightly. You'll be worked alright, worked hard in the middle of the ring by the Technical Professor, the New Status Quo of Professional Wrestling; you'll be broken, beaten and embarrassed as I take you to task.
You think you're the Terminator, Jeremiah, when you're just the Tin Man from "The Wizard of Oz".
And - here's another bonus for you, Vastrix - that old Union Workhouse, it's also the Old Hospital. You couldn't ask for a better location for a show, I tell you. Because as soon as I'm done working you like a bitch, we can just roll you onto a gurney and straight into theater.
But I'm afraid there'll be nothing that can be done to save you. Nothing to say, except; "Vastrix.exe has encountered a fatal error."
Rocco stares into the camera, a sick smile across his face.
Rocco Rose:
So you bring your technology, Tin Man. And I'll bring my technical expertise. But just remember this - you might be a cyborg, well I'm a Transformer. Autobot, Decepticon - it doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that underneath this sleek, dashingly handsome human exterior is a deadly steamroller of pure wrestling skill, backed up by a 750-horsepower racing engine.
By the end of the night you're going to be lying on your back but it won't be the arena lights you're staring at. All you'll be able to see is the dreaded blue screen of death, and the words:
"ERROR 403: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO ACCESS THE END OF DAYS FINAL."
Now anaylse that, bitch.
Rocco strides towards the camera, and pushes the cameraman out of the way. The feed cuts as the camera tumbles to the ground and we see nothing but a blue screen.
It looks sort of like the warehouse scene from "Raiders of the Lost Ark," except instead of a warehouse we are clearly inside of some kind of factory.
Production lines trundle along robotically, the machinery inside the factory emitting a low, rumbling drone. Moving parts move (as they are wont to do) as conveyor belts transport components from one station to another; automated, mindless robots constructing yet more automated, mindless robots.
Along the central aisle walk two figures. Indistinguishable at a distance, they stand out thanks to their bright yellow hard hats and high-visibility vests. They appear to be deep in conversation as they walk slowly towards the camera, hands clasped behind their backs - save for the odd gesture from one man or the other towards the machinery, the men nodding sagely as they discuss the assembly line.
As the two men draw closer, we see that they are none other than Rocco Rose and Harry Hansen, and their conversation starts to become audible.
Rocco Rose:
Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. I see. I have to say, I'm very impressed.
Harry Hansen:
These robots are top-of-the-line. The best in the world. You won't find better anywhere else.
Rocco Rose:
The Chinese models are cheaper, though.
Harry Hansen:
The Chinese models are inferior. The unit cost might be cheaper, but that's because they skimp on the materials. You know what they say - "buy Chinese, buy twice". These American models will last you a lifetime.
Rocco nods slowly.
Rocco Rose:
Well, you've convinced me. Sign me up for ten-thousand. No- a hundred thousand!
Harry pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to Rocco, who mimes signing it.
Rocco Rose:
And now, thanks to my army of sentient Roombas, I will take over the world! Muahahahahaha!
Harry Hansen:
Haha... ahahahaha.... HAHAHAHA!
Rocco Rose:
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Rocco and Harry really milk the laughter, drawing it out for an awkwardly-long time. As they compose themselves, Rocco turns to face the camera.
Rocco Rose:
What is it with me, and getting forced to face all the freaks that the XHF Network has to offer? Seriously - first it was Hyperion, who thinks he's an ancient god. And now it's Jeremiah Vastrix. And if you thought Hyperion was bad, then wait til you get a load of this guy. This guy is building a robot army. At least Hyperion is recruiting real people to his cause. At least he can apparently make friends. Vastrix has to build his!
And if a robot army isn't good enough for ya, Jeremiah Vastrix has got... hang on, let me check I got this right.
Rocco looks at the piece of paper in his hand, and shakes his head.
Rocco Rose:
No. This can't be right. It says here that Jeremiah Vastrix has cybernetic augmentations. Harry, is this some kind of a joke?
Harry holds his hands up.
Harry Hansen:
No joke, kid. I swear, this is from his official bio.
Rocco Rose:
Huh. Well he's apparently got two robotic eyes, and a database implanted in his brain. A freakin' database!
Harry Hansen:
You know what he uses that for, don'tcha?
Rocco Rose:
Heh. I can guess. It says here that he stores statistics on his opponents in that database of his but... come on, Vasty - just admit it. You got it for porn, didn't you? How much do you have saved up there? A nerd like you probably doesn't get laid all that often...
Or ever, more like.
Rocco holds out a fist for Harry to bump, which is a weird sight to behold. Harry normally espouses the "old-school" no-nonsense approach, and to see him here, dressed in factory PPE and bumping fists with Rocco is somewhat jarring.
Rocco Rose:
But alright, I'll bite. I'll believe you when you say you've got some chip in your brain that analyses your opponents and finds weaknesses - but it's not gonna do you much good against me, Vasty. I suggest you ask for your money back because there ain't a supercomputer on this planet that can find fault with my performance.
You just try it. You ask your little robo-brain to give you a flaws report on Rocco Rose and all you'll get back is "ERROR 404: WEAKNESSES NOT FOUND."
If you so much as even think about trying to evaluate one of my performances I hope to god that you downloaded some RAM because you'll need it to be able to keep up with a masterclass from the Technical Professor.
Rocco starts to walk towards us, but then stops again. He holds up one finger, as if he had just remembered something important.
Rocco Rose:
But speaking of "God".
You go around calling yourself "God's Gift", Jeremiah Vastrix. Ha. Very cute. Very cute. But perhaps when you're cranking up that ol' brain of yours, maybe you'll want to analyse yourself a little inconvenient truth.
I fucking killed God.
I broke the Mad Titan, the one and only Hyperion - the man who would have you believe that he is a Greek God descended from Mount Olympus. I did it twice. And I dismantled the myth of the "Technical God" Sang-Hyun Lee.
Jeremiah Vastrix, I'll have no problem marking "God's Gift" with the words "return to sender" at Prestige 41.
Rocco takes off his hard hat and casts it aside, then peels off the hi-vis vest and lets it fall to the floor.
Rocco Rose:
Because the next End of Days show is taking place at AWF Prestige, I'll be on home turf. And don't you worry about the fact that I have two matches that night... I have more than enough in the tank to get the job done on both fronts.
See, our match could go a number of different ways. For a start, I could just take advantage of all your fancy electronic parts and, I dunno - just throw a bucket of water over you. Or perhaps I could just work you so hard with technical wizardy that I force you to short-circuit yourself, you'll be sweating so much.
Hmm.
Rocco strokes his chin, deep in thought.
Rocco Rose:
Yes. Maybe that's the way I'll go. I think it would be rather fitting - since we'll be fighting inside of the old Union Workhouse.
For all your tangible riches outside of the ring, you are but a pauper next to me when it comes to technical wrestling ability. And the penalty for pauperdom is very clear - you get sent to the workhouse.
Though in your case, I'll spare you the mill. I'll spare you the back-breaking labor of the Victorian age - the same labor you force upon those Mexican immigrant slaves you "employ" - but don't think you're getting off lightly. You'll be worked alright, worked hard in the middle of the ring by the Technical Professor, the New Status Quo of Professional Wrestling; you'll be broken, beaten and embarrassed as I take you to task.
You think you're the Terminator, Jeremiah, when you're just the Tin Man from "The Wizard of Oz".
And - here's another bonus for you, Vastrix - that old Union Workhouse, it's also the Old Hospital. You couldn't ask for a better location for a show, I tell you. Because as soon as I'm done working you like a bitch, we can just roll you onto a gurney and straight into theater.
But I'm afraid there'll be nothing that can be done to save you. Nothing to say, except; "Vastrix.exe has encountered a fatal error."
Rocco stares into the camera, a sick smile across his face.
Rocco Rose:
So you bring your technology, Tin Man. And I'll bring my technical expertise. But just remember this - you might be a cyborg, well I'm a Transformer. Autobot, Decepticon - it doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that underneath this sleek, dashingly handsome human exterior is a deadly steamroller of pure wrestling skill, backed up by a 750-horsepower racing engine.
By the end of the night you're going to be lying on your back but it won't be the arena lights you're staring at. All you'll be able to see is the dreaded blue screen of death, and the words:
"ERROR 403: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO ACCESS THE END OF DAYS FINAL."
Now anaylse that, bitch.
Rocco strides towards the camera, and pushes the cameraman out of the way. The feed cuts as the camera tumbles to the ground and we see nothing but a blue screen.