Post by Robbie A on Feb 12, 2021 11:52:14 GMT -5
Fade in. We’re in a gym and more specifically, one that has a wrestling ring in it. Sat on the turnbuckle is Leon Chant, which is not exactly somewhere you’d expect to see him, but the strange times aren’t exclusive to 2020. He’s accompanied by Rob Arnold, who is pacing in the ring, both men are in training-wear and Arnold’s expression is pensive, it seems like we’ve caught them mid conversation.
“I mean sure, it’s Supremacy, we all want to represent, but to put your guys on parade with that Olympic opening ceremony torch lighting shit, that was a bit much for me…oh, we’re rolling? Riley! Didn’t I tell you to let me know when we were going to start?!”
“Sorry, Mr Arnold.” Comes the apologetic, off camera reply from Riley Richards. Rob immediately composes himself and steps towards the camera.
“Four of the top wrestlers NLW can offer, a shit load of ladders, and the NLW Heavyweight Title, must be a Pay-Per-View around the corner.” He adds a smirk to the dry tone. “These are the shows where you find out who has the grit, the ability to keep going even when you’re running on empty. At Masquerade-“
“Boss, this ain’t gonna work.” Chant hops off the turnbuckle and approaches Arnold with purpose, who is genuinely surprised of the interruption. “I know you wanna do the highbrow thing but there’s something that I need to get off my chest.”
Arnold sizes Chant up, not too impressed he’s not sticking to the plan, but Leon has a snarl in his tone, and he recognises that it’s probably worth backing off. He nods and slinks back to the corner, where he leans back, arms draped over the ropes.
“I’m tired, not because I’m exhausted being a champion, not because anything is physically wrong. No, I’m tired because since we’ve been here in NLW, people have painted a false painting of us. Hagen and FDJ think we don’t belong here, that we know nothing of, nor represent the south. Al Jabroni thinks I was the school bully. The list goes on and I’m fucking sick of it.”
Arnold’s eyebrows raise, and then he smiles. In his head a fired up Leon Chant is a good thing.
“We’ve been part of this community for years now, Rob's been here for almost a decade! We came here to New Orleans because they accepted all shapes and sizes, all colours, all backgrounds, all stories. In my case, a background that wasn’t taking anybody’s lunch money, it was surviving every single day, wondering if you’d have a place to sleep that night, wondering if you were going to even eat. We belong here and are just as worthy as those who grew up in these fine states, and they should hang their heads in shame that they fail to show the decency that some of their fellow southerners have given to us.
Come Masquerade, of all the attributes that will be tested, one of the most important is identity. We’ll find out just who Al Jabroni, Eli Dresden and Takuma Okazaki are, and yeah, Leon Chant too. Spoiler alert, Leon Chant has been showing you his identity, it’s take no prisoners, it’s beat people down, win matches, win titles. The Saga didn’t believe it, look what happened to them. Look what happened to the others, Maze, Bishop, The New South. They all failed to use their eyes to see what was in front of them, and would rather listen to the shit that Jabroni and Hagen have spouted out.”
Chant shakes his head angrily.
“If any of you three honestly think you can take this title from me, stop using your ears, start using your eyes, because that is the only way you’re going to have a chance here. None of you have this shot by accident, but you won’t get any further if you make the same mistakes as all of those who have come before you. Show me the respect I've earned, because I see all of you for who you are. I see past the stoic big man that Okazaki tries to act like, I see past the cheeky chick with a smart mouth front that Eli puts on, and I certainly see past the hapless wannabe Jackson Steele phase that Jabroni brings to the table.
Big Tiger, you have the raw power that can give me something to think about. Eli Dresden, your bag of tricks is bigger than santa’s sack, and Al Jabroni, you have a mix of elusiveness and killer instinct that means you cannot be ignored. For that, I will not underestimate any of you because that’s what the identity of a successful champion looks like.”
Chant thrusts a pointed finger towards Arnold in the corner.
“That’s how he did it, that’s how he held the X*Crown for such a long time-“
“Four months.” Chimes Arnold.
“Exactly, four months! That included a Rumble defence as well!” Leon confirms. “And so that’s why I’m going to do just like he did, because whilst some whilst it may be an ugly thought to some of you, this guy is the blueprint of how to be successful.”
Chant lowers his arm and returns his full focus on the camera.
“So Takuma, Jabroni, Dresden, I suggest you choose wisely about how you want to view me, because at Masquerade, Leon fucking Chant, the avalanche is coming, and you’re all gonna have to figure out how to deal with that. My advice? Run for the hills.”
Chant glares once more at the camera before giving a similar look to Rob, who’s grin has only been widening throughout all of this. As their eyes meet, Arnold stops smiling, perhaps out of respect or possibly because Leon could well be too volatile right now. Chant nods and leaves the ring, which leaves Rob to slowly step back to where he once stood and smirk at the camera.
“Leon fucking Chant? Oh. Hell. Yes.”
Cut to black.
“I mean sure, it’s Supremacy, we all want to represent, but to put your guys on parade with that Olympic opening ceremony torch lighting shit, that was a bit much for me…oh, we’re rolling? Riley! Didn’t I tell you to let me know when we were going to start?!”
“Sorry, Mr Arnold.” Comes the apologetic, off camera reply from Riley Richards. Rob immediately composes himself and steps towards the camera.
“Four of the top wrestlers NLW can offer, a shit load of ladders, and the NLW Heavyweight Title, must be a Pay-Per-View around the corner.” He adds a smirk to the dry tone. “These are the shows where you find out who has the grit, the ability to keep going even when you’re running on empty. At Masquerade-“
“Boss, this ain’t gonna work.” Chant hops off the turnbuckle and approaches Arnold with purpose, who is genuinely surprised of the interruption. “I know you wanna do the highbrow thing but there’s something that I need to get off my chest.”
Arnold sizes Chant up, not too impressed he’s not sticking to the plan, but Leon has a snarl in his tone, and he recognises that it’s probably worth backing off. He nods and slinks back to the corner, where he leans back, arms draped over the ropes.
“I’m tired, not because I’m exhausted being a champion, not because anything is physically wrong. No, I’m tired because since we’ve been here in NLW, people have painted a false painting of us. Hagen and FDJ think we don’t belong here, that we know nothing of, nor represent the south. Al Jabroni thinks I was the school bully. The list goes on and I’m fucking sick of it.”
Arnold’s eyebrows raise, and then he smiles. In his head a fired up Leon Chant is a good thing.
“We’ve been part of this community for years now, Rob's been here for almost a decade! We came here to New Orleans because they accepted all shapes and sizes, all colours, all backgrounds, all stories. In my case, a background that wasn’t taking anybody’s lunch money, it was surviving every single day, wondering if you’d have a place to sleep that night, wondering if you were going to even eat. We belong here and are just as worthy as those who grew up in these fine states, and they should hang their heads in shame that they fail to show the decency that some of their fellow southerners have given to us.
Come Masquerade, of all the attributes that will be tested, one of the most important is identity. We’ll find out just who Al Jabroni, Eli Dresden and Takuma Okazaki are, and yeah, Leon Chant too. Spoiler alert, Leon Chant has been showing you his identity, it’s take no prisoners, it’s beat people down, win matches, win titles. The Saga didn’t believe it, look what happened to them. Look what happened to the others, Maze, Bishop, The New South. They all failed to use their eyes to see what was in front of them, and would rather listen to the shit that Jabroni and Hagen have spouted out.”
Chant shakes his head angrily.
“If any of you three honestly think you can take this title from me, stop using your ears, start using your eyes, because that is the only way you’re going to have a chance here. None of you have this shot by accident, but you won’t get any further if you make the same mistakes as all of those who have come before you. Show me the respect I've earned, because I see all of you for who you are. I see past the stoic big man that Okazaki tries to act like, I see past the cheeky chick with a smart mouth front that Eli puts on, and I certainly see past the hapless wannabe Jackson Steele phase that Jabroni brings to the table.
Big Tiger, you have the raw power that can give me something to think about. Eli Dresden, your bag of tricks is bigger than santa’s sack, and Al Jabroni, you have a mix of elusiveness and killer instinct that means you cannot be ignored. For that, I will not underestimate any of you because that’s what the identity of a successful champion looks like.”
Chant thrusts a pointed finger towards Arnold in the corner.
“That’s how he did it, that’s how he held the X*Crown for such a long time-“
“Four months.” Chimes Arnold.
“Exactly, four months! That included a Rumble defence as well!” Leon confirms. “And so that’s why I’m going to do just like he did, because whilst some whilst it may be an ugly thought to some of you, this guy is the blueprint of how to be successful.”
Chant lowers his arm and returns his full focus on the camera.
“So Takuma, Jabroni, Dresden, I suggest you choose wisely about how you want to view me, because at Masquerade, Leon fucking Chant, the avalanche is coming, and you’re all gonna have to figure out how to deal with that. My advice? Run for the hills.”
Chant glares once more at the camera before giving a similar look to Rob, who’s grin has only been widening throughout all of this. As their eyes meet, Arnold stops smiling, perhaps out of respect or possibly because Leon could well be too volatile right now. Chant nods and leaves the ring, which leaves Rob to slowly step back to where he once stood and smirk at the camera.
“Leon fucking Chant? Oh. Hell. Yes.”
Cut to black.
