The American Dream (Storm RP #2/Rumble)
Apr 2, 2020 11:35:54 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and mosler like this
Post by ForeverKuroi on Apr 2, 2020 11:35:54 GMT -5
The scene fades in to Michael Storm in his modest one bedroom apartment. He's staring forward blnkly at the television screen in front of him. His eyes are half open as he's clicking through the television stations. He finds...
"The 25,000th New York case of COVID-19 has been diagnosed and nearly 75 deaths have been recorded in this state."
Click.
"New York Governor Andrew Cuomo is once again stressing that the people stay home and to continue practicing social distancing."
Click.
"Is losing your sense of smell a symptom of COVID? One studys eems to think yes."
Click.
"This isn't the Chinese Virus! This is the SINNER virus! Yes! This Coronavirus is sent because of the sinners! The time of judgment will soon be upon us and those who do not accept the lord and savior Jesus Christ will be burning in a lake of f-
Click. Michael Storm presses the power button and the television turns off. With a sigh, he turns over to the camera.
Storm: It's really quite sad. The world has been plagued by this like hell is coming. They haven't seen nothing yet. Because as much as that douchebag Christian is wrong, he's right. Judgment is coming, but it's not coming from any sort of god. If you're worried about a celestial force coming down and deciding whether you've wasted enough time, effort and money to get to heaven, you don't have to worry about that. I'm empirical proof of that. It doesn't matter who you are and what you've done, you're going to hell. You could be a doctor. You could have pushed a kid out from in front of a car, but all in all, you've just risked your life in order to prolong the inevitable hell of another.
Storm shrugs his shoulders as he turns the other direction, right back toward the television.
Storm: Or, if you want a more direct analogy, it will be on Sunday, April 26th 2020. As I've said before, I'm in the XHF Rumble and there really doesn't need to be too much more to be said past that. I didn't beat Seth. I just know that will be shoved down my throat. I lost. Yeah, I know I did, but considering the fact that I had a fever that should have sent me to the hospital. Now of course I'm not the kind of person that gives excuses but we live in the world of reality. I was hallucinating. I was nearly demonic. And Seth honestly gave me a level of skill he hasn't shown me before. In fact, last time we were in the ring, I had him tapping out within a minute. Obviously I gave him something to work for. Good for him. But he's not even in the Rumble, or at least what I hear from the grapevine. Word around town is he's had enough from Legion. Honestly, Seth gave me something at Supremacy but now with him lashing out, I think that maybe...
Michael Storm brings his index finger to his lips.
Storm: Just maybe... Perhaps I gave him something to think about too. That people are monsters. That people have a beast waiting inside of them. And that's a universal truth. Everyone has a beast within them. Sometimes it's deep within them and perhaps it takes something else deep within them in order to bring it out. Perhaps it's money. Maybe it's revenge. But people have them and that's how what drives the beast. For me, I'm driven by the past. I was cheated out of the X*Crown Championship. It belongs to me and me only. No one took it from me. No one pinned me for it. I didn't tap to anyone and I am most deserving of it. Not people like Bloodied Fox and Ryan Young, who have no connection to the X*Crown Championship. Not people like Lord Dominicus and Psychotic Goth who merely provoke ridiculous performances that are more fit for a half-bit Stooge reenactment than for the XHF Rumble. Not for people like Death Trap who haven't even touched the belt in fifteen years. Not for people like Anthony Caffrey, who can't accept the fact that he will lose matches in his life and setting himself for failure. And certainly not Dylan Black, Viper or whatever the hell you want to call yourself. Look, I can understand you have a shitty family. I don't even know my dad, but if I did and he turned out to be a disgusting, perverted and bigoted piece of shit, I wouldn't willingly decide to team with him. For that reason alone, the fact that you are even going to be sharing the ring with me is absolutely regrettable and nauseating to the core.
Storm straightens up and shakes his head.
Storm: This isn't going to be easy. This is actually going to be the hardest thing in the world. It'll be very difficult... to keep from ripping out the throats of those who step in my way. The jokesters revolt me, making a mockery of everything I've faced during the course of my careers, and those with talent make it necessary for me to go for the throat. If I don't, they'll nip at my heels and force me to lose an ounce of blood here and there until I'm tired and until I've gradually lost the blood to the point of exhaustion. So for those of you who see me as crass and even predatory, take it as a compliment. I'm going for blood because your blood shed is what will elevate me. It is your specific blood that keeps me from winning and until I expose it and make it red, you will continue being a threat to me. That leaves only one group left that has a unique advantage here.
The camera zooms until Storm forms what's almost considered a smile.
Storm: It's those in the middle. Those who aren't incredibly terrible like Lord Dominicus and Dylan Bliper. But it's also those who aren't considered to be the best in the world, even if that person who thinks that is yourself. Yes, Caffrey - I'm looking at you. You get a pass. You get a chance to slide in between the floor boards. You're small enough not to get my attention and you're big enough to actually get the ability to sneak in the win if you're crafty enough. This is for the middle of the pack. I'm talking about Vincent Draven, and Steve Awesome. I'm talking about those like Aiden Merric, and Nelly Angel. You lot have a chance to win. All you have to do is use your mediocre reputation over to your advantage. Oh, and also hope that I have a VERY early number just like I did in the 2018 XHF Rumble.
Storm looks up, trying to remember that match.
Storm: I lasted nearly five hours in that Rumble. Much longer than anyone else, bar the child. I lasted longer than Anthony Caffrey by HOURS. If I was in that rumble and showed up an hour before Rob Arnold, the winner of that rumble, I'd still win. This is going to be a Rumble that will will shape the landscape as hellish and post apocalyptic because people don't know what hell is. I'll keep things simple for you. Hell isn't having a hard time trying to find toilet paper or being told to stay away from people, wash your hands and cough into your elbow. Hell is fury. Hell existing here is where the feeling of being on fire is a cool breeze. Hell is not having to think twice about climbing and crushing the bodies of those beneath you for just a quick moment of reprieve.
Storm stares forward. Cool as a cucumber. Unfazed.
Storm: When you'd do so much for so little, think about what I'd do to those stepping in the way for the collection of championship belts that have been just beneath my reach. I've nearly won that belt at Supremacy 2018. I've been so close at the XHF Rumble last time I was there and honestly would have if I drew a more fortunate number and the one time I've held this belt was a time I didn't spend enjoying it. It's a constant carrot in front of the donkey and I refuse to simply stand here, continuing to feel like an ass. I'm done with this championship just being just out of my reach, just inches from the tips of my fingers I'm sick and tired of everything I've wanted in life and death being unfulfilled. I have the physique. I have the endurance and I have the drive. I also have the mind. I keep a mental list of those who have beaten me, and I'm keeping that in mind. They'll be the first ones I'll be looking to remove when my number comes forward. I'm not ready to be faced with rejection again. I'm not looking to be denied. That leaves only one possible venue left for recourse.
Michael Storm looks down. He's not even looking at the camera anymore.
Storm: I simply won't allow myself to lose. I will win. I don't care what the odds are. The numbers are irrelevant at this point. If going from broke poor to getting a contract with the XHF Network isn't enough to point how I defy the odds, then how about putting forward damn near all the money I had left from the XHF into investments and coming out on top. I mean that right there is the American Dream that black folks in America don't seem to get other than in their dreams. Or how about waking up from clinical death? Seems pretty unlikely, right? It's a bit early but the amount of people I've seen on the XHF Network announcing their entry to this match doesn't seem to topple two dozen. Compared to everything I've been through, this is nothing. Compared to fighting the odds and tearing down the opposition including my own damn self, a roughly four percent chance at winning this match doesn't seem to be too damn unlikely. Nevermind the fact that I'm one of the top wrestlers to grace the Xtreme Hardcore Federation - and don't take that as cockiness; my skill level and win/loss percentage just seems to corroborate that. I'd estimate my chances of winning this match to be at a humble 15% - a bit higher and a bit lower depending on at what point I'm entering.
Michael Storm balls his hand into a fist.
Storm: I'm winning this. I'm bringing this throne to that which truly deserves this. This belt isn't going to go to me just because I want it; it's going to me because I'm the rightful champion. The moment when I tap out to someone for the belt, they can have it. When they cover me in a title match and the referee counts to three, it's their. But I'm not - NOT - accepting myself to remain anything lower than a champion just because my fucking DEATH is inconvenient to Mongo. This match is going to end in my victory and I don't care how many eggs I have to crack or how many necks I have to snap, this belt is coming back home. Perhaps this bad news is a bit more than you wanted, but call it whatever you want. An opportunity for next year? Perhaps a bar that you can work toward. Me - I'm calling it the right thing. It's a little bit more extra steps than I wanted, but this belt is coming back to where it belongs. Bring it.
Storm turns back to the television, to the black unlit electric box.
Storm: Fucking quarantine.
The scene fades to black as he shakes his head.
"The 25,000th New York case of COVID-19 has been diagnosed and nearly 75 deaths have been recorded in this state."
Click.
"New York Governor Andrew Cuomo is once again stressing that the people stay home and to continue practicing social distancing."
Click.
"Is losing your sense of smell a symptom of COVID? One studys eems to think yes."
Click.
"This isn't the Chinese Virus! This is the SINNER virus! Yes! This Coronavirus is sent because of the sinners! The time of judgment will soon be upon us and those who do not accept the lord and savior Jesus Christ will be burning in a lake of f-
Click. Michael Storm presses the power button and the television turns off. With a sigh, he turns over to the camera.
Storm: It's really quite sad. The world has been plagued by this like hell is coming. They haven't seen nothing yet. Because as much as that douchebag Christian is wrong, he's right. Judgment is coming, but it's not coming from any sort of god. If you're worried about a celestial force coming down and deciding whether you've wasted enough time, effort and money to get to heaven, you don't have to worry about that. I'm empirical proof of that. It doesn't matter who you are and what you've done, you're going to hell. You could be a doctor. You could have pushed a kid out from in front of a car, but all in all, you've just risked your life in order to prolong the inevitable hell of another.
Storm shrugs his shoulders as he turns the other direction, right back toward the television.
Storm: Or, if you want a more direct analogy, it will be on Sunday, April 26th 2020. As I've said before, I'm in the XHF Rumble and there really doesn't need to be too much more to be said past that. I didn't beat Seth. I just know that will be shoved down my throat. I lost. Yeah, I know I did, but considering the fact that I had a fever that should have sent me to the hospital. Now of course I'm not the kind of person that gives excuses but we live in the world of reality. I was hallucinating. I was nearly demonic. And Seth honestly gave me a level of skill he hasn't shown me before. In fact, last time we were in the ring, I had him tapping out within a minute. Obviously I gave him something to work for. Good for him. But he's not even in the Rumble, or at least what I hear from the grapevine. Word around town is he's had enough from Legion. Honestly, Seth gave me something at Supremacy but now with him lashing out, I think that maybe...
Michael Storm brings his index finger to his lips.
Storm: Just maybe... Perhaps I gave him something to think about too. That people are monsters. That people have a beast waiting inside of them. And that's a universal truth. Everyone has a beast within them. Sometimes it's deep within them and perhaps it takes something else deep within them in order to bring it out. Perhaps it's money. Maybe it's revenge. But people have them and that's how what drives the beast. For me, I'm driven by the past. I was cheated out of the X*Crown Championship. It belongs to me and me only. No one took it from me. No one pinned me for it. I didn't tap to anyone and I am most deserving of it. Not people like Bloodied Fox and Ryan Young, who have no connection to the X*Crown Championship. Not people like Lord Dominicus and Psychotic Goth who merely provoke ridiculous performances that are more fit for a half-bit Stooge reenactment than for the XHF Rumble. Not for people like Death Trap who haven't even touched the belt in fifteen years. Not for people like Anthony Caffrey, who can't accept the fact that he will lose matches in his life and setting himself for failure. And certainly not Dylan Black, Viper or whatever the hell you want to call yourself. Look, I can understand you have a shitty family. I don't even know my dad, but if I did and he turned out to be a disgusting, perverted and bigoted piece of shit, I wouldn't willingly decide to team with him. For that reason alone, the fact that you are even going to be sharing the ring with me is absolutely regrettable and nauseating to the core.
Storm straightens up and shakes his head.
Storm: This isn't going to be easy. This is actually going to be the hardest thing in the world. It'll be very difficult... to keep from ripping out the throats of those who step in my way. The jokesters revolt me, making a mockery of everything I've faced during the course of my careers, and those with talent make it necessary for me to go for the throat. If I don't, they'll nip at my heels and force me to lose an ounce of blood here and there until I'm tired and until I've gradually lost the blood to the point of exhaustion. So for those of you who see me as crass and even predatory, take it as a compliment. I'm going for blood because your blood shed is what will elevate me. It is your specific blood that keeps me from winning and until I expose it and make it red, you will continue being a threat to me. That leaves only one group left that has a unique advantage here.
The camera zooms until Storm forms what's almost considered a smile.
Storm: It's those in the middle. Those who aren't incredibly terrible like Lord Dominicus and Dylan Bliper. But it's also those who aren't considered to be the best in the world, even if that person who thinks that is yourself. Yes, Caffrey - I'm looking at you. You get a pass. You get a chance to slide in between the floor boards. You're small enough not to get my attention and you're big enough to actually get the ability to sneak in the win if you're crafty enough. This is for the middle of the pack. I'm talking about Vincent Draven, and Steve Awesome. I'm talking about those like Aiden Merric, and Nelly Angel. You lot have a chance to win. All you have to do is use your mediocre reputation over to your advantage. Oh, and also hope that I have a VERY early number just like I did in the 2018 XHF Rumble.
Storm looks up, trying to remember that match.
Storm: I lasted nearly five hours in that Rumble. Much longer than anyone else, bar the child. I lasted longer than Anthony Caffrey by HOURS. If I was in that rumble and showed up an hour before Rob Arnold, the winner of that rumble, I'd still win. This is going to be a Rumble that will will shape the landscape as hellish and post apocalyptic because people don't know what hell is. I'll keep things simple for you. Hell isn't having a hard time trying to find toilet paper or being told to stay away from people, wash your hands and cough into your elbow. Hell is fury. Hell existing here is where the feeling of being on fire is a cool breeze. Hell is not having to think twice about climbing and crushing the bodies of those beneath you for just a quick moment of reprieve.
Storm stares forward. Cool as a cucumber. Unfazed.
Storm: When you'd do so much for so little, think about what I'd do to those stepping in the way for the collection of championship belts that have been just beneath my reach. I've nearly won that belt at Supremacy 2018. I've been so close at the XHF Rumble last time I was there and honestly would have if I drew a more fortunate number and the one time I've held this belt was a time I didn't spend enjoying it. It's a constant carrot in front of the donkey and I refuse to simply stand here, continuing to feel like an ass. I'm done with this championship just being just out of my reach, just inches from the tips of my fingers I'm sick and tired of everything I've wanted in life and death being unfulfilled. I have the physique. I have the endurance and I have the drive. I also have the mind. I keep a mental list of those who have beaten me, and I'm keeping that in mind. They'll be the first ones I'll be looking to remove when my number comes forward. I'm not ready to be faced with rejection again. I'm not looking to be denied. That leaves only one possible venue left for recourse.
Michael Storm looks down. He's not even looking at the camera anymore.
Storm: I simply won't allow myself to lose. I will win. I don't care what the odds are. The numbers are irrelevant at this point. If going from broke poor to getting a contract with the XHF Network isn't enough to point how I defy the odds, then how about putting forward damn near all the money I had left from the XHF into investments and coming out on top. I mean that right there is the American Dream that black folks in America don't seem to get other than in their dreams. Or how about waking up from clinical death? Seems pretty unlikely, right? It's a bit early but the amount of people I've seen on the XHF Network announcing their entry to this match doesn't seem to topple two dozen. Compared to everything I've been through, this is nothing. Compared to fighting the odds and tearing down the opposition including my own damn self, a roughly four percent chance at winning this match doesn't seem to be too damn unlikely. Nevermind the fact that I'm one of the top wrestlers to grace the Xtreme Hardcore Federation - and don't take that as cockiness; my skill level and win/loss percentage just seems to corroborate that. I'd estimate my chances of winning this match to be at a humble 15% - a bit higher and a bit lower depending on at what point I'm entering.
Michael Storm balls his hand into a fist.
Storm: I'm winning this. I'm bringing this throne to that which truly deserves this. This belt isn't going to go to me just because I want it; it's going to me because I'm the rightful champion. The moment when I tap out to someone for the belt, they can have it. When they cover me in a title match and the referee counts to three, it's their. But I'm not - NOT - accepting myself to remain anything lower than a champion just because my fucking DEATH is inconvenient to Mongo. This match is going to end in my victory and I don't care how many eggs I have to crack or how many necks I have to snap, this belt is coming back home. Perhaps this bad news is a bit more than you wanted, but call it whatever you want. An opportunity for next year? Perhaps a bar that you can work toward. Me - I'm calling it the right thing. It's a little bit more extra steps than I wanted, but this belt is coming back to where it belongs. Bring it.
Storm turns back to the television, to the black unlit electric box.
Storm: Fucking quarantine.
The scene fades to black as he shakes his head.
