Worth [Rumble RP #3]
Apr 6, 2020 1:29:07 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 4 more like this
Post by anthonycaffrey on Apr 6, 2020 1:29:07 GMT -5
“I punch one mirror, and the world thinks I’m dying.”
The lights are pitch black.
“And you know… they’d be right.”
There's a sigh.
“That was the second dumbest decision of my life. Two inches lower, and I’d have to pull out of the Rumble to have a match with the local mortician."
"I bet you’re wondering what’s first."
The speaker readjusts in his seat.
“That was joining the AWF. What a waste.”
He sneers.
“In October, everything I thought I deserved was taken from me by… by…”
We hear a deep breath.
“Vincent Draven.”
It is the first time in months he’s said the full name.
“I woke up miserable and set my course for ‘the best’.”
He exhales.
“After beating Storm, after coming up just short against Card… management had nothing for me for the biggest show of the year. So I stood in the center of the ring, demanding a match..”
There is an extended silence.
“Nothing.”
We can hear him shake his head.
“Meanwhile, AWF was busy heavily investing into three men using their sexuality to advance their careers.”
There is a very deliberate pause.
“Please tell me what you know about Bloodied Fox outside of his domestic partnership.”
He stops talking.
“I didn’t think so.”
“You’re watching an AWF star, a party-loving drug enthusiast with the world-class ability and a keep-it-chill, everyone should love each other charisma radiating throughout his body. Who are you watching?”
There's another break.
“You’re watching James Dragon.”
You can hear the man shift.
“Yet Dragon these days isn't worth shit, and Dillinger is world champion. I wonder why.”
The man’s tone shifts to anger.
“Ryan, you’ve won one big match without help. You’ve been the ‘next big thing’ since September. It’s April. You’re just a thing. And now you’re shitting yourself because you’re almost worthless without your lifejacket Seth.”
"You’ll try to spin this as me attacking your lifestyle, but no. I’m attacking Ryan Young, the wrestler."
"After all, you said if you won, it’d be for LGBTKO and the AWF but we both know, if you somehow won, it’d be for you alone. You’re as old as I am, yet I can count your singles world championships on zero fingers. It’s public knowledge that Ryan Matthews of Anaheim, California was a fucking jobber and worth NOTHING for the past TEN YEARS until he joined the AWF and started using Seth Dillinger.”
The use of real names and industry terms indicates that the Emperor is done fucking around.
“He would’ve easily made the finals of that tournament without you dragging him down.”
The man clears his throat.
“I don’t run. Dillinger was going to keep avoiding me, no one wanted to challenge me, and the AWF was still playing pretend that LGBTKO was best, so I decided to leave. You can keep pitchinga ‘running’ narrative, but I’m 10-2 against the nine men in this year's Rumble that I’ve previously fought. When Young loses, it’s written off as ‘unfortunate circumstances’ and swept under the rug. When Anthony Caffrey loses, it’s the biggest piece of news to hit the federation for a month.”
There's an awkwardly long silence.
“So about the other night..."
“...when Syberus bounced my head off the steps and I bled, I started questioning myself. What was I doing? Why did I spend almost two months telling Syberus to just give me the International Championship? Why did I even want the third-best championship in SWAT? Why was I resigning myself to being the third fucking best?”
“As Syberus smashed my face in, I realized why: it’s because it’s what I had thought I deserved. The AWF, just as everyone has tried this week, tried to paint me as unworthy, and I became so desperate for actual competition, so desperate for change because I had unwittingly bought into it, to the point I had tanked my own worth to Syberus’ level.”
“He was right. I’d become rubbish.”
“I had started living in my own shadow. I’d become a man demanding everything, shouting and cursing back into an unresponsive void, when in reality, I deserved absolutely nothing. And so… so I drove a chair into the champion’s ankle.”
“And it felt so, so good. They made me finish, but I felt so much better… until I got back to my hotel and saw myself. My thoughts started running, and I saw this ugly and unkempt beard staring back at me, the lips that preached against settling for second best yet were actively settling for third, a man who had bled for a cause beneath him. I saw that motherfucker staring back at me in the mirror and I punched him as hard as I fucking could.”
The man turns on a light.
“Worth it.”
We see the man showcasing a bandaged fist and a sinister smile. The camera cuts.
The lights are pitch black.
“And you know… they’d be right.”
There's a sigh.
“That was the second dumbest decision of my life. Two inches lower, and I’d have to pull out of the Rumble to have a match with the local mortician."
"I bet you’re wondering what’s first."
The speaker readjusts in his seat.
“That was joining the AWF. What a waste.”
He sneers.
“In October, everything I thought I deserved was taken from me by… by…”
We hear a deep breath.
“Vincent Draven.”
It is the first time in months he’s said the full name.
“I woke up miserable and set my course for ‘the best’.”
He exhales.
“After beating Storm, after coming up just short against Card… management had nothing for me for the biggest show of the year. So I stood in the center of the ring, demanding a match..”
There is an extended silence.
“Nothing.”
We can hear him shake his head.
“Meanwhile, AWF was busy heavily investing into three men using their sexuality to advance their careers.”
There is a very deliberate pause.
“Please tell me what you know about Bloodied Fox outside of his domestic partnership.”
He stops talking.
“I didn’t think so.”
“You’re watching an AWF star, a party-loving drug enthusiast with the world-class ability and a keep-it-chill, everyone should love each other charisma radiating throughout his body. Who are you watching?”
There's another break.
“You’re watching James Dragon.”
You can hear the man shift.
“Yet Dragon these days isn't worth shit, and Dillinger is world champion. I wonder why.”
The man’s tone shifts to anger.
“Ryan, you’ve won one big match without help. You’ve been the ‘next big thing’ since September. It’s April. You’re just a thing. And now you’re shitting yourself because you’re almost worthless without your lifejacket Seth.”
"You’ll try to spin this as me attacking your lifestyle, but no. I’m attacking Ryan Young, the wrestler."
"After all, you said if you won, it’d be for LGBTKO and the AWF but we both know, if you somehow won, it’d be for you alone. You’re as old as I am, yet I can count your singles world championships on zero fingers. It’s public knowledge that Ryan Matthews of Anaheim, California was a fucking jobber and worth NOTHING for the past TEN YEARS until he joined the AWF and started using Seth Dillinger.”
The use of real names and industry terms indicates that the Emperor is done fucking around.
“He would’ve easily made the finals of that tournament without you dragging him down.”
The man clears his throat.
“I don’t run. Dillinger was going to keep avoiding me, no one wanted to challenge me, and the AWF was still playing pretend that LGBTKO was best, so I decided to leave. You can keep pitchinga ‘running’ narrative, but I’m 10-2 against the nine men in this year's Rumble that I’ve previously fought. When Young loses, it’s written off as ‘unfortunate circumstances’ and swept under the rug. When Anthony Caffrey loses, it’s the biggest piece of news to hit the federation for a month.”
There's an awkwardly long silence.
“So about the other night..."
“...when Syberus bounced my head off the steps and I bled, I started questioning myself. What was I doing? Why did I spend almost two months telling Syberus to just give me the International Championship? Why did I even want the third-best championship in SWAT? Why was I resigning myself to being the third fucking best?”
“As Syberus smashed my face in, I realized why: it’s because it’s what I had thought I deserved. The AWF, just as everyone has tried this week, tried to paint me as unworthy, and I became so desperate for actual competition, so desperate for change because I had unwittingly bought into it, to the point I had tanked my own worth to Syberus’ level.”
“He was right. I’d become rubbish.”
“I had started living in my own shadow. I’d become a man demanding everything, shouting and cursing back into an unresponsive void, when in reality, I deserved absolutely nothing. And so… so I drove a chair into the champion’s ankle.”
“And it felt so, so good. They made me finish, but I felt so much better… until I got back to my hotel and saw myself. My thoughts started running, and I saw this ugly and unkempt beard staring back at me, the lips that preached against settling for second best yet were actively settling for third, a man who had bled for a cause beneath him. I saw that motherfucker staring back at me in the mirror and I punched him as hard as I fucking could.”
The man turns on a light.
“Worth it.”
We see the man showcasing a bandaged fist and a sinister smile. The camera cuts.
