A Reason To Fight (Storm RP #3/Rumble)
Apr 3, 2020 10:02:54 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and mosler like this
Post by ForeverKuroi on Apr 3, 2020 10:02:54 GMT -5
The scene fades into view to find Michael Storm in the wrestling ring. Of course it's empty and no one's there, especially with the pandemic going around. He stares at it, looking longingly to the proverbial squared ring.
Storm: Hello, old friend.
He takes a look left and right to see if anyone is in the area. He double checks. That's how he likes it. Alone. At least, that's what he knows. He takes a step forward, feels a vibration in his pocket. He sees...
Already, he feels his blood boil.
Storm: The last thing I need is to be informed of the drama between Mongo and Felix. They can go fuck themselves. In fact...
Storm holds the phone with both hands. He begins to tap away with his phone with a quick witted and sharp insult. He stops shortly after he begins.
After a moment of silence and contemplation, he begins deleting everything he read. He puts the phone back into his pocket.
Storm: You know what? Never mind. I'm not going to deal with the idiot who can't even spell "message" correctly. The last thing I want to think about is getting a massage from a big oaf who honestly can't run a company. I know how he runs that company. I see the people he hires. They are seemingly seven feet tall and their only move is a fist to the head or their only previous wrestling experience includes gators. Either that or they're so rich that he could be paid in Twitter followers and he'd be happy. Yes, Chris. That was aimed at you. But fuck it. This isn't about them. This is about me. This is why I'm here.
Michael Storm approaches the ring. He climbs the steps. He feels the material of the ropes along his finger and savors the feel of the canvas beneath his feet. His nostrils grows big, filling in the musk of the wrestling ring. He waits a moment before climbing in past the ropes. He circles around, feeling the ropes and stopping by each one of the four turnbuckles. He then makes his way to the center ring. He stops there.
Storm: You know, it's been over two months since I've stepped into an XHF Network ring. And it'll be over three months by the time the XHF Rumble rolls around. This wasn't an accident. This didn't just happen by pure chance. No. I took a leave of absence from the Ascension Wrestling Federation. I asked myself if this is what I wanted. I asked if this was really right for me. No doctor would have told me that wrestling was a smart idea, especially someone in my condition. No one would have told me that I should have even stepped foot in the ring. After all, I came back from death. It's probably not unlikely that it could theoretically happen again. And after all that, being stuck in a philosophical thunderstorm with Seth Dillinger, shoving his beliefs down my throat. My body's fucked up. My soul's fucked up. Now my mind's fucked up. Everything is fucked up about me. I'm left all in this world without myself. I am gone and divorced from my identity. All I have in the world is... Well, this.
Storm extends his arms out to show the wrestling ring around him.
Storm: And when I go into this ring, three things happen. I win, lose or draw. When I go into this ring, I hurt or hurt others. Usually, both happen. So on and on we go and I keep noticing the pattern that keeps penetrating my mind. I'm forced to ask... Is this all that there is? Did I suffer and injure myself... Did I injure others... Did I kill myself for a tally in a scoreboard or a stat at the newly unveilved new April face lift of the XHFNetwork.com? Surely there's more to life than this, right? I mean, I didn't travel to and torment myself in hell to just deliver the fury of hell to others? Or have I? Am I just here as a harbinger of true fear? Am I just here to cut off one's life force, send them through fifty-two seconds of hell and just scoop up the remains? I'm good at this. I'm good and as I move forward, I become even more efficient. I have even dealt Chris Card his one and only submission loss, taking him down with an omaplata, a move that I've never used as an advertised and well known move of mine. But am I here just to hurt?
With a sigh, Michael Storm just shrugs.
Storm: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't discouraged. I've done a lot of pain already. I used to think that I was here to show people the truth, but it's becoming more and more evident that the truth may not be what people want, and it may be having some contradictions with what Seth has been showing me. So it has left me quite lost. At one point I even told me that I'd hang up the boots and head home. Maybe I'll stay there and wait for my own demise to take me once more. Perhaps I'll let hell take me over and give me what I truly deserve for the monster I truly am. But I decided to stay, and there's one single wrestler in the XHF Network that I truly have to thank for my return into the wrestling ring. One person who changed my mind. So I want to truly thank you, from the bottom of my heart...
The camera zooms in to Storm's face as he pauses.
Storm: ...Anthony Caffrey.
Michael Storm stays in place for a moment to allow the shock or lack thereof) to take effect. After that, he walks to the side ropes and hangs over for a moment.
Storm: Magic mirror on the wall - Who is the smuggest piece of shit of them all?
He turns his face back to the camera, still hanging over the ropes.
Storm: It's almost impossible to tell which comes first - Caffrey's decision to be the most irritating person ever to step forward into the ring or the crowd's hatred for him. Because before before he's said a single word, we'd just look at that scrawny little body and his constant holding the left part of his glasses, and want to see if those lenses are truly resistant to shatter. And look, I'm not the kind of person to judge someone from how they look, but I have to tell you - after seeing nothing from Anthony Caffrey day in and day out, I'll sink low. I've been to hell before so I'm used to being low. And I'm not going to pretend that I'm a good person like Caffrey does. I'm a monster. So yeah, I'll be a bastard. Anthony Caffrey is a piece of shit and a moronic fool. And he also looks like an idiot. And he also looks like the kind of kid that desperately deserves a punch in the face. That and a laxative.
Michael Storm reaches into his phone and pulls out his phone. He Google image searches: "Anthony Caffrey". He flips through a couple of pictures:
Storm: ...because Anthony Caffrey has two looks and they both look like he's constipated. But I suppose I should thank him. You see, I wasn't really planning on joining the XHF Rumble. Hell, I'm not even sure how long it would be before my leave of absence would end. Or if it would. But then I saw Anthony Caffrey pop up, and off he goes about something that honestly, no one gives a shit about. He shows up somewhere for a press conference and after being an ever expanding bag of the constantly persisting douchery where he has such a constant supply, finds no demand. The law of economics would suggest he would have no value but alas, he persists with the delusion that he's the filet mignon of wrestling. Fuck, he's not even the dog food.
Michael Storm's face scrunches and is glad he's able to remain close enough to the outside of the ring so he can spit out the taste of Caffrey that even mentioning him has.
Storm: In truth, it's your complete lack of knowledge, lack of nuance and complete smug perception of intelligence in your words that made me join. You talked about how difficult it was for you to be eliminated at last year's Rumble. Six people? Is that what you said? Seems really impressive. But like a mosquito constantly buzzing and creating an unsanitary environment, because the err that you leave behind stinks of shit, people are always quick to swat at the mosquito and they eventually get squashed. And like you in the Rumble, again - people always want to swat the disease-ridden insect and while you may be able to last a while without meeting a can of raid, neither you nor mosquitoes tend to live long.
Storm hangs his head while shaking it.
Storm: You'd think after that, you'd learn. You'd learn a little tactic, right? Maybe hang down low for a bit. Don't get noticed. But no, you come in like Rambo and guns blazing but instead of being armed with automatic and huge guns, you're just coming in with a shotgun. Big enough to take down someone, sure. But in quick succession? Against a large number of people? Don't make me laugh. It seems like your parents did a great job at teaching you how to talk, but couldn't quite teach you WHEN you should talk. You're a clown and instead of learning from your mistakes, YOU DOUBLE DOWN ON THEM! I mean reme-
In a sudden outburst, Michael Storm actually laughs out loud. He puts his hand in front of his mouth to hide it out of courtesy, but the laugh is quite audible.
Storm: Remember how you said that your 2020 resolution was to go undefeated? I remember it. I'm sure others do too. I mean one of the main things about being a loud mouth is that everyone can hear you. Y'know... I heard a little rumor that...
Storm begins to smile again, but catches himself and wipes it clean.
Storm: I heard you haven't even finished through the first quarter of the year before you fucked up. But it's OK. You were defeated by Chris Card.
Michael Storm stops. A tiny semblance of a smirk pops up through the sides of Storm's cheeks, but he's obviously trying to hide it.
Storm: No, it wasn't Chris Card. It was, of course, Seth Dilling-
Michael Storm stops again.
Storm: No, that's not right. Hmmmm... Well I know it sure as heck wasn't Duke Kosloff. I saw a video where he beat you once, but it was an obviously fake video that was stolen from a completely other match. I remember seeing how the faces were photoshopped in. But I digress. Actually... Why should I even bother guessing? Why not let the video decide?
Michael Storm reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone and begins typing some more. After a moment or two, he pulls the phone out and the red Youtube logo is seen. A video with the following is shown:
Toward the end, Michael Storm couldn't help but bawl out loud laughing. He even scrolls back to the look on Caffrey's face as he lands outside of the ring. As he talks, he begins fidgeting with the phone, searching for something else.
Storm: No, you didn't keep your promise. You couldn't get 25% of the way through. And when you lost, it wasn't lost in a blaze of glory. You didn't lose through an amazing match. You lost because a dog that isn't even taller than your knees. Tony, this is what your better looks like:
Michael Storm pulls out a phone with the Google image searching looking for the canine competitor:
Storm: But hey! You've got truck loads of those stability cookies you've been ranting on about, right? Wrong choice. Looks like you should have stocked up on Wheaties instead. At least you're right when you're insulting me for not providing satisfying conclusions. Because I've done a lot. And a lot has been done to me. A lot of them have been painful and some of them have been embarrassing as well but I swear... Compared to everything I've ever faced in my life, I have never been taken down by an overgrown cat WITH A BROKEN LEG. THE LEG, OF WHICH, YOU BROKE YOURSELF! You've done a lot, Caffrey. You've been undefeated for a long amount of time in a dying promotion filled with five people and you've been toppled by a century old vampire who rested from his hundred year slumber in order to feed on his prey. Because as hilarious as Vincent Draven being a vampire is as opposed to the kid who raids the hot topic and stocks up on vampire costumes the day after Halloween to score the big discounts, well... Compared to that, you being likable or even coming close to winning this match is a lot more mythical.
Michael Storm tilts his hid with a grin before continuing:
Storm: I give where respect is due, Anthony. You've done a lot. You've given me a reason to fight. You've given me a reason to give a shit. That right now is a lot more than I expected from when I originally learned of who - or rather what you are. And who are you? You're the King Joffrey from Game of Thrones and you give people a reason to tune in to HBO, just so they can see you slapped across the face and poisoned. You've had your reign, kid. Now it's over. You've had one last moment of magic where you had more to offer the wrestling community, and you just fulfilled it. Now you can lay back and watch me win the crown that is owed to me, the X*Crown Championship. Or you could try to win.
Storm gives a shrug at the camera.
Storm: Maybe you will. I mean... After all, anything is paw-sible.
Michael Storm chuckles to himself as he climbs out of the ring and walks off camera. The scene fades to black.
Storm: Hello, old friend.
He takes a look left and right to see if anyone is in the area. He double checks. That's how he likes it. Alone. At least, that's what he knows. He takes a step forward, feels a vibration in his pocket. He sees...
Already, he feels his blood boil.
Storm: The last thing I need is to be informed of the drama between Mongo and Felix. They can go fuck themselves. In fact...
Storm holds the phone with both hands. He begins to tap away with his phone with a quick witted and sharp insult. He stops shortly after he begins.
After a moment of silence and contemplation, he begins deleting everything he read. He puts the phone back into his pocket.
Storm: You know what? Never mind. I'm not going to deal with the idiot who can't even spell "message" correctly. The last thing I want to think about is getting a massage from a big oaf who honestly can't run a company. I know how he runs that company. I see the people he hires. They are seemingly seven feet tall and their only move is a fist to the head or their only previous wrestling experience includes gators. Either that or they're so rich that he could be paid in Twitter followers and he'd be happy. Yes, Chris. That was aimed at you. But fuck it. This isn't about them. This is about me. This is why I'm here.
Michael Storm approaches the ring. He climbs the steps. He feels the material of the ropes along his finger and savors the feel of the canvas beneath his feet. His nostrils grows big, filling in the musk of the wrestling ring. He waits a moment before climbing in past the ropes. He circles around, feeling the ropes and stopping by each one of the four turnbuckles. He then makes his way to the center ring. He stops there.
Storm: You know, it's been over two months since I've stepped into an XHF Network ring. And it'll be over three months by the time the XHF Rumble rolls around. This wasn't an accident. This didn't just happen by pure chance. No. I took a leave of absence from the Ascension Wrestling Federation. I asked myself if this is what I wanted. I asked if this was really right for me. No doctor would have told me that wrestling was a smart idea, especially someone in my condition. No one would have told me that I should have even stepped foot in the ring. After all, I came back from death. It's probably not unlikely that it could theoretically happen again. And after all that, being stuck in a philosophical thunderstorm with Seth Dillinger, shoving his beliefs down my throat. My body's fucked up. My soul's fucked up. Now my mind's fucked up. Everything is fucked up about me. I'm left all in this world without myself. I am gone and divorced from my identity. All I have in the world is... Well, this.
Storm extends his arms out to show the wrestling ring around him.
Storm: And when I go into this ring, three things happen. I win, lose or draw. When I go into this ring, I hurt or hurt others. Usually, both happen. So on and on we go and I keep noticing the pattern that keeps penetrating my mind. I'm forced to ask... Is this all that there is? Did I suffer and injure myself... Did I injure others... Did I kill myself for a tally in a scoreboard or a stat at the newly unveilved new April face lift of the XHFNetwork.com? Surely there's more to life than this, right? I mean, I didn't travel to and torment myself in hell to just deliver the fury of hell to others? Or have I? Am I just here as a harbinger of true fear? Am I just here to cut off one's life force, send them through fifty-two seconds of hell and just scoop up the remains? I'm good at this. I'm good and as I move forward, I become even more efficient. I have even dealt Chris Card his one and only submission loss, taking him down with an omaplata, a move that I've never used as an advertised and well known move of mine. But am I here just to hurt?
With a sigh, Michael Storm just shrugs.
Storm: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't discouraged. I've done a lot of pain already. I used to think that I was here to show people the truth, but it's becoming more and more evident that the truth may not be what people want, and it may be having some contradictions with what Seth has been showing me. So it has left me quite lost. At one point I even told me that I'd hang up the boots and head home. Maybe I'll stay there and wait for my own demise to take me once more. Perhaps I'll let hell take me over and give me what I truly deserve for the monster I truly am. But I decided to stay, and there's one single wrestler in the XHF Network that I truly have to thank for my return into the wrestling ring. One person who changed my mind. So I want to truly thank you, from the bottom of my heart...
The camera zooms in to Storm's face as he pauses.
Storm: ...Anthony Caffrey.
Michael Storm stays in place for a moment to allow the shock or lack thereof) to take effect. After that, he walks to the side ropes and hangs over for a moment.
Storm: Magic mirror on the wall - Who is the smuggest piece of shit of them all?
He turns his face back to the camera, still hanging over the ropes.
Storm: It's almost impossible to tell which comes first - Caffrey's decision to be the most irritating person ever to step forward into the ring or the crowd's hatred for him. Because before before he's said a single word, we'd just look at that scrawny little body and his constant holding the left part of his glasses, and want to see if those lenses are truly resistant to shatter. And look, I'm not the kind of person to judge someone from how they look, but I have to tell you - after seeing nothing from Anthony Caffrey day in and day out, I'll sink low. I've been to hell before so I'm used to being low. And I'm not going to pretend that I'm a good person like Caffrey does. I'm a monster. So yeah, I'll be a bastard. Anthony Caffrey is a piece of shit and a moronic fool. And he also looks like an idiot. And he also looks like the kind of kid that desperately deserves a punch in the face. That and a laxative.
Michael Storm reaches into his phone and pulls out his phone. He Google image searches: "Anthony Caffrey". He flips through a couple of pictures:
Storm: ...because Anthony Caffrey has two looks and they both look like he's constipated. But I suppose I should thank him. You see, I wasn't really planning on joining the XHF Rumble. Hell, I'm not even sure how long it would be before my leave of absence would end. Or if it would. But then I saw Anthony Caffrey pop up, and off he goes about something that honestly, no one gives a shit about. He shows up somewhere for a press conference and after being an ever expanding bag of the constantly persisting douchery where he has such a constant supply, finds no demand. The law of economics would suggest he would have no value but alas, he persists with the delusion that he's the filet mignon of wrestling. Fuck, he's not even the dog food.
Michael Storm's face scrunches and is glad he's able to remain close enough to the outside of the ring so he can spit out the taste of Caffrey that even mentioning him has.
Storm: In truth, it's your complete lack of knowledge, lack of nuance and complete smug perception of intelligence in your words that made me join. You talked about how difficult it was for you to be eliminated at last year's Rumble. Six people? Is that what you said? Seems really impressive. But like a mosquito constantly buzzing and creating an unsanitary environment, because the err that you leave behind stinks of shit, people are always quick to swat at the mosquito and they eventually get squashed. And like you in the Rumble, again - people always want to swat the disease-ridden insect and while you may be able to last a while without meeting a can of raid, neither you nor mosquitoes tend to live long.
Storm hangs his head while shaking it.
Storm: You'd think after that, you'd learn. You'd learn a little tactic, right? Maybe hang down low for a bit. Don't get noticed. But no, you come in like Rambo and guns blazing but instead of being armed with automatic and huge guns, you're just coming in with a shotgun. Big enough to take down someone, sure. But in quick succession? Against a large number of people? Don't make me laugh. It seems like your parents did a great job at teaching you how to talk, but couldn't quite teach you WHEN you should talk. You're a clown and instead of learning from your mistakes, YOU DOUBLE DOWN ON THEM! I mean reme-
In a sudden outburst, Michael Storm actually laughs out loud. He puts his hand in front of his mouth to hide it out of courtesy, but the laugh is quite audible.
Storm: Remember how you said that your 2020 resolution was to go undefeated? I remember it. I'm sure others do too. I mean one of the main things about being a loud mouth is that everyone can hear you. Y'know... I heard a little rumor that...
Storm begins to smile again, but catches himself and wipes it clean.
Storm: I heard you haven't even finished through the first quarter of the year before you fucked up. But it's OK. You were defeated by Chris Card.
Michael Storm stops. A tiny semblance of a smirk pops up through the sides of Storm's cheeks, but he's obviously trying to hide it.
Storm: No, it wasn't Chris Card. It was, of course, Seth Dilling-
Michael Storm stops again.
Storm: No, that's not right. Hmmmm... Well I know it sure as heck wasn't Duke Kosloff. I saw a video where he beat you once, but it was an obviously fake video that was stolen from a completely other match. I remember seeing how the faces were photoshopped in. But I digress. Actually... Why should I even bother guessing? Why not let the video decide?
Michael Storm reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone and begins typing some more. After a moment or two, he pulls the phone out and the red Youtube logo is seen. A video with the following is shown:
"Ugly Ref: SCUB BITES MR3...
AND IS GIFTED DIRECTLY INTO CAFFREY'S ARMS!
BROTHERLY LOVE!
HOWEVER
MR3 MANAGES TO KEEP HIS BALANCE
Caffrey Grabs up MRIII by the ankles leaving him free for gareth and the dog
MR3 Suckers Caffrey in for the MR-2 Spinebuster!
Scoobs climbs into Gareth's arm and gestures towards Caffrey
Gareth charges the dog right into Caffrey
SCOOBS HEADBUTTS CAFFREY OVER THE ROPES (ELIM)
Ugly Ref:
MR-2 LEADS INTO A DOG TOSS
BUT THE DOG GRABS THE ROPES ON THE REBOUND AND CAFFREY STUMBLES OVER THEM...
HES OUT!
Caffrey hits the floor, knowing once again he was teamed up on repeatedly to be eliminated
AND IS GIFTED DIRECTLY INTO CAFFREY'S ARMS!
BROTHERLY LOVE!
HOWEVER
MR3 MANAGES TO KEEP HIS BALANCE
Caffrey Grabs up MRIII by the ankles leaving him free for gareth and the dog
MR3 Suckers Caffrey in for the MR-2 Spinebuster!
Scoobs climbs into Gareth's arm and gestures towards Caffrey
Gareth charges the dog right into Caffrey
SCOOBS HEADBUTTS CAFFREY OVER THE ROPES (ELIM)
Ugly Ref:
MR-2 LEADS INTO A DOG TOSS
BUT THE DOG GRABS THE ROPES ON THE REBOUND AND CAFFREY STUMBLES OVER THEM...
HES OUT!
Caffrey hits the floor, knowing once again he was teamed up on repeatedly to be eliminated
Storm: No, you didn't keep your promise. You couldn't get 25% of the way through. And when you lost, it wasn't lost in a blaze of glory. You didn't lose through an amazing match. You lost because a dog that isn't even taller than your knees. Tony, this is what your better looks like:
Michael Storm pulls out a phone with the Google image searching looking for the canine competitor:
Storm: But hey! You've got truck loads of those stability cookies you've been ranting on about, right? Wrong choice. Looks like you should have stocked up on Wheaties instead. At least you're right when you're insulting me for not providing satisfying conclusions. Because I've done a lot. And a lot has been done to me. A lot of them have been painful and some of them have been embarrassing as well but I swear... Compared to everything I've ever faced in my life, I have never been taken down by an overgrown cat WITH A BROKEN LEG. THE LEG, OF WHICH, YOU BROKE YOURSELF! You've done a lot, Caffrey. You've been undefeated for a long amount of time in a dying promotion filled with five people and you've been toppled by a century old vampire who rested from his hundred year slumber in order to feed on his prey. Because as hilarious as Vincent Draven being a vampire is as opposed to the kid who raids the hot topic and stocks up on vampire costumes the day after Halloween to score the big discounts, well... Compared to that, you being likable or even coming close to winning this match is a lot more mythical.
Michael Storm tilts his hid with a grin before continuing:
Storm: I give where respect is due, Anthony. You've done a lot. You've given me a reason to fight. You've given me a reason to give a shit. That right now is a lot more than I expected from when I originally learned of who - or rather what you are. And who are you? You're the King Joffrey from Game of Thrones and you give people a reason to tune in to HBO, just so they can see you slapped across the face and poisoned. You've had your reign, kid. Now it's over. You've had one last moment of magic where you had more to offer the wrestling community, and you just fulfilled it. Now you can lay back and watch me win the crown that is owed to me, the X*Crown Championship. Or you could try to win.
Storm gives a shrug at the camera.
Storm: Maybe you will. I mean... After all, anything is paw-sible.
Michael Storm chuckles to himself as he climbs out of the ring and walks off camera. The scene fades to black.
