#140 (Rumble/CW/J-ROK RP)

[Dylan]

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17-04-20

Undisclosed Location

Press Conference

We open on a backdrop, white and plastered with the logos of J-ROK and Champoon Wrasslin'. There is one table, with a red/white/black checkered cloth over it, and in the center is the main attraction of the evening. The big goldie. The CW World Heavyweight Championship. From stage right (our stage left.), walks out Dylan Black. The current reigning champion, for 250+ days. He stands around, soaking in the delightful sound of cameras clicking. Dylan makes way to the table, picking up the championship and setting it over his shoulder. He sits down, kicking his feet up on the table with a clear lack of respect towards the attendees, and those who employ him.

A representative wearing a J-ROK polo and a CW badge on the shirt walks up, shuffling a few papers in his hands.

Representative: Ladies and Gen-

Dylan holds his hand up, stopping the rep mid-speech.

Dylan: Shut up.

The rep has a confused look on his face. He pauses a moment, then attempts to resume.

Representative: Ladie-

Dylan: Shut. Up.

Dylan spins around.

Dylan: These people are not here to listen to you. They are not here for the nameless, faceless J-ROK stooge who wears the insignia of Champoon Wrasslin' on his chest like he belongs in both places. No. They are here for one thing, me. Nobody knows you, and they never will. So, begone.

He shoos the stooge off the stage, and away he goes. Dylan spins back around, leaning back with that look of tranquillo on his face.

Dylan: You know who I am. You know why I'm here. Questions?

The camera pans to the audience of reporters, who all are sitting there with perplexity on their faces.

Dylan: You all came here to do more than snap pictures, no? There's plenty of news regarding me, plenty of things to talk about. There's plenty of you folk here, start asking me things. Do not even think of wasting my time, because I will be very displeased if you do.

Reporter 1: Mr. Black, you said earlier this month you had no plans to win the Rumble. Why would you choose to take part in the Rumble if you aren't there to walk out with the coveted X*Crown?

Dylan bares his teeth, almost into a snarl.

Dylan: That question is a waste of my time. Did I not say to not ask questions that could compromise that request?

His face returns to that of a relaxed nature.

Dylan: But... I suppose I could toy with you, maybe give you dirtsheet marks something to fondle and play with for months on end.

Dylan: Why do I choose to enter the Rumble if not to win? The short answer is such; I want to hurt people. I thought I'd made that plenty clear when I made my little promo talking about it April 2nd. The X*Crown, the accomplishments that come alongside it, the draw to be part of something historic... bores me. It is such a drag to have to come out, repeat ten, fifteen times why I'm the best and why I want to win. Throw some verbal barbs at people. Maybe do some original content, make a minion meme about all the people. Rat Bastard is old enough to be one of those chain smoking, alcoholic aunties and honestly, he probably is one.

He shakes his head.

Dylan: I am here to do one thing. I'm not here to win titles, to cement my legacy. Those have already been accomplished and need no further investing. I am here to brutalize and demolish people. The Rumble is a great spot to cement that ideal. There's 40, 50 some-odd people who will enter that ring, and only one can walk out with Zoran Sainovic's title. Will DA COMMISSIONATOR EUAGHH (insert Arnold scream here) retain his prize title, or will someone equally as undeserving make their claim? Who knows? Who cares, I say. I am gonna walk out, break bones, snap necks, and leave a trail of bodies around the ring. And when it's all said and done... I'll just hop right out. Over the top rope. Do I want to win? No, the X*Crown is beneath me. I will require none of its time, because I don't care for it.

Dylan: The X*Crown is just like the popular girl in high school; all the boys, ugly, dumb, handsome and smart, all vie for her. Some of the girls will too. But the select few who are above and beyond, know she's a whore who's been taken down by every guy who she let at her temple. Disgusting.

He shrugs.

Dylan: The X*Crown is a slut girl, and I wish not to stick myself into her. It. Whatever, you get my analogy, yes?

The reporter nods, and sits back down. Another one is quick to stand up, holding a recording device out almost into Dylan's face.

Reporter 2: Dylan, earlier this month Michael Storm made an attempt to call you out, calling you "regrettable and nauseating to the core" for tag teaming with your, er, father Jeffrey Viper. You've not commented on that statement, would you care to comment now?

Dylan sits there a moment, pondering an answer. Pondering for almost too long.

Reporter 2: Uh... Mister Black?

Dylan: Oh, sorry. When you mentioned Michael Storm, I completely stopped listening because my mind is automatically trained to ignore irrelevant information. I'm sure your question was really, really invigorating, like one of his promos. But alas, I did not hear your question. Thus, my answer is just not important, like Michael Storm. Next.

The reporter refuses to back down.

Reporter 2: Okay, well what about Hannah Rockford's barbs at you? Calling you a choke artist and noting how Maverick sent you to Japan, tail tucked between your legs? Any comment?

Dylan's lips curl into a twisted smirk.

Dylan: How many of those lines were spoonfed to her by Maverick?

Reporter 2: Well, it was a blog, so-

Dylan: A BLOG! People are really taking after Seth, eh? Who's to say Maverick didn't write that blog himself, eh? Hannah is a simp, and if she has real reason to have my name in her mouth, I know where she works.

Reporter 2: Okay, well speaking of Seth he also cut a promo on yo-

Dylan: Irrelevant. He's not in the Rumble, my breath and time shall not be wasted no more! NEXT!

The reporter stumbles back a second, shocked. Another one stands up, to take his place.

Reporter 3: Mr. Black, one really big star has constantly, as you say, had your name in his mouth. That man is Anthony Caffrey. Numerous times he's jawed off on you. Anything you want to say to him?

Dylan shrugs.

Dylan: All I'd like to say has been said. Caff thinks he's got a one-up on me because four times, FOUR TIMES he's beaten me. So what do I have to say about that? Nothing. It's true he's beaten me, so why should I try to twist a tale in my favor? He won't listen to what I have to say, he'll repeat "I BEAT YOU LOL N00B" over and over, as loud as he can until he is the only person speaking. Only then will his over-inflated ego be satisfied. Whatever. When Caffrey talks, you don't really have to listen because he'll be repeating again later. About five more times.

He shrugs again, and then picks up his championship.

Dylan: Now, I think I've wasted enough time here with stupid questions. I will be leaving, and-

Reporter 4: WAIT!

Everyone turns to one female reporter, camera around her neck and pen and pad in hand. She stands up, taking a step towards Dylan.

Reporter 4: This conference is decorated like you're promoting J-ROK and CW, yet you've barely made mention of either company. I think it is only due to both companies that you answer some questions pertaining to them.

The crowd tries to close her off, but Dylan holds up a hand.

Dylan: No, no. I suppose one more stupid question cannot hurt. Come on up, ma'am. You've got one shot at dirtsheet stardom, so make that count or fizzle out.

She nods, a smirk of her own on her face.

Reporter 4: Just two days ago, Champoon Wrasslin' hosted its second event under its third run. Vision II. This is actually three questions I have. First, how does it feel now that your shot for the X*Crown through the CW World Heavyweight Championship yanked away? How does it feel to be working with both companies at the same time? And at Vision II, Jefe was the winner of a battle royale to determine who will be fighting first for your title in the new CW. Can I get comments on all of those questions?

Dylan sits there a moment, in silence. Almost like earlier in regards to the Michael Storm question. Except he turns his head, makes movements to barely pass as responsive. He finally breaks the silence.

Dylan: As I said earlier, the X*Crown is of zero importance to me. So now the fact CW is alive and this title is active doesn't impact me or the X*Crown. It feels good to get to work for both companies: unfortunately it means a pay cut from J-ROK, more traveling, and having to sign a special contract to CW where I can only compete in title matches. The dual working came with its benefits and its detracting points.

Dylan: And as to your final point...

He cracks his neck, grinning sadistically.

Dylan: Oh, how I have not missed Jefe. That illiterate, green eared, slimey toad of a human. Hell, that's an insult to toads. Jefe is, not worth an ounce of my effort, a second of my time, and yet I have to share the ring with that... that IMBECILE, that insignificant spec of scum on the bottom of my shoe. He doesn't deserve to be hosting my company on his show and yet- here I am. About to fight him at some point for the title. For my title.

Dylan relaxes, sitting back in the chair.

Dylan: But. This isn't the first time that Jefe and I have contested for this title. Just a year ago, the roles were reversed. I'd won a 10 man battle royale, to go on to fight Jefe. But the thing is, Jefe, there's no slimey cuntwaffle like Jeffrey Viper to save you now!

Reporter 4: Actually, Jefe has his crew of Eyetology allies to help him. So he really has more help now then he did last time.

Dylan: ...shit. Well in any case, I am a real wrestler. Jefe is a wack comedy shitshow. And I am going to murder Jefe. He is insignificant, and I will defeat him and go on to become the longest reigning champion in XHF Network history!

Reporter 1: I thought you didn't care about titles?

Dylan: I don't, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let myself lose to some plebian like Jefe.

Reporter 2: Longest reigning champion in XHF Network history with no defenses sounds like a farce.

Dylan: Stormcrow did that. With an ACTUAL XHF CHAMPIONSHIP! HE WENT MONTHS WITH NOT BEING SEEN AND THEY COUNTED THAT AS PART OF HIS REIGN! If he can do that, then I can be active around the network and have my reign continue. Is that really a lot to ask for?

General murmuring that sounds like "Yes."

Reporter 3: Okay, what happens if you lose the title to Jefe? Will you remain dual contracted to CW and J-ROK, or stick to one or the other?

Dylan lets out a belly laugh, flinging his hair back and revealing his smooth, tan skin. Not unlike that guy, Vincent Goth? Psychotic Draven? Should he speak in an ancient dialect?

Dylan: What a silly presumption, that he'd beat me. But allow me to play that out, meander in your silly hypotheticals.

Dylan: So, let's say at Vision III, after a load of shenanigans, illegal weapon shots, and help from Eyetology, he ends up beating me. Simply put, I wouldn't waste any more time in his little bullshit dreamland. His psychedelic crackland. What'll I do?

He scoffs, shaking his head.

Dylan: I'll leave. As my contract states, my only business in CW has to do with my CW World Heavyweight Championship reign. So when I no longer have that title, CW will no longer have access to me. That is all.

Dylan stands up, holding the title over his shoulder.

Dylan: We are through. Jefe, I'll see you whenever. J-ROK, wish me luck in causing pain in the Rumble. And to those onboard the XHF Barge in The Rumble... stay out of my way. Messiah, OUT!

He draws a shaka over his throat, and walks off of the set.