Post by Robbie A on May 27, 2021 17:40:29 GMT -5
“…and that was it, I just knew at that point that I’d had enough, and I had to confront the guy, I had to stand up for myself, and I had to hit him. And that…that’s why I’m here.”
“Sure, Mr Gunn, I know what your motives were, but why are you here? You know, in our gym?”
Fade in, The Academy Gym, New Orleans. BB Gunn is stood talking to Riley Richards and the NLW General Manager is dressed to train, or at least in a tracksuit. The conversation carries on.
“Why I’m here? Well if I’m honest I called Johnny B first, but it turns out that he’s trailing Al Jabroni on another set. I didn’t realise this, but it seems that Al Jabroni is directing way more…films…than we realise. So with that in mind-“
Richards senses there’s another lie, and raises an eyebrow, Gunn folds pretty quickly.
“And given that I tried calling Karl Hagen, but he’s not been answering my calls for months. Speaking of, I really thought that Gerhard Bishop would be back in action, man, his clavicle must be really fucked up.”
At that point Leon Chant walks by in the background.
“He’s ghosting you, mate, get fucking real.”
And like that he’s moved on and the pair can barely react.
“So yeah, I then came to you guys.”
“So we’re your third choice?”
Gunn freezes, his chin moves up and down but no words come out immediately.
“N-No, of course not. I wanted to come to you first, but you are training for the tag titles, and, Rob Arnold being taken away-“
“Mr Gunn…” Richards straightens up, a serious look on his face. “We already know and are messing with you!”
Gunn doesn’t know where to look, or what to do, was…was he being mocked by Riley fucking Richards?
“What can I say? it's been a rough few weeks here, we need to enjoy ourselves!”
Gunn exhales, to be honest the guy was in a bind, he’d not thought any of this through, he just needed to do everything in his power not to end up with egg on his face. Richards got that.
“Oh man, thank God.”
“So, what would you like to learn?” Richards asks with a warmer tone.
“Well, I want the experience you had, I don’t want any exceptions, guys like you and Jabroni came in and have got reasonable success, I need to be on that level, and I know, I know I’ve not got the same amount of time, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”
This doesn’t go down too well with Bristol’s Finest, and Leon Chant re-joins the scene at this point, seemingly having heard what the NLW General Manager just said.
“Mr Gunn, I’d had basic training in the UK before I came over here. My training here has been to refine my skills…not learn them.”
“As for Jabroni…he’s not exactly been giving technical masterclasses.”
The Academy members stare through Gunn, who looks like he’s so much on the defensive he may just assume the foetal position. No sooner does he retreat within himself though, he fights back, and gets in the former NLW Heavyweight Champion’s face.
“Leon, I need to know how to kick his ass because I don’t want to be his bitch for weeks. I don’t care what jokes you want to make, at this point I don’t care anymore. Help me, or tell me to leave, because I can’t be wasting more time. You keeping me on the hook? It’s a dick move, so help me, or don’t!”
Chant and Richards side eye each other, and Chant slowly says “Prep him” after a delayed silence, and walks off. Riley beams and puts his arm around Gunn.
“Well, Mr Gunn, Leon’s going to help you out, which is good, he’s beaten Blow twice, once in singles and once in a tag match, so he’ll be able to give you some pointers…” Richards trails off, and this doesn’t go unnoticed.
“…why did you trail off, Riley?”
“Well, you know how you wanted the same experience I got?”
“Maybe?”
“Well…When I first came here I had to spend five minutes in the ring with Leon.”
They both turn around, Leon Chant is in the ring, bouncing from foot to foot and a grin on his face, his hands beckoning Gunn to the ring. Gunn gulps and looks at Richards, and has one simple word to offer.
“Shit.”
“Sure, Mr Gunn, I know what your motives were, but why are you here? You know, in our gym?”
Fade in, The Academy Gym, New Orleans. BB Gunn is stood talking to Riley Richards and the NLW General Manager is dressed to train, or at least in a tracksuit. The conversation carries on.
“Why I’m here? Well if I’m honest I called Johnny B first, but it turns out that he’s trailing Al Jabroni on another set. I didn’t realise this, but it seems that Al Jabroni is directing way more…films…than we realise. So with that in mind-“
Richards senses there’s another lie, and raises an eyebrow, Gunn folds pretty quickly.
“And given that I tried calling Karl Hagen, but he’s not been answering my calls for months. Speaking of, I really thought that Gerhard Bishop would be back in action, man, his clavicle must be really fucked up.”
At that point Leon Chant walks by in the background.
“He’s ghosting you, mate, get fucking real.”
And like that he’s moved on and the pair can barely react.
“So yeah, I then came to you guys.”
“So we’re your third choice?”
Gunn freezes, his chin moves up and down but no words come out immediately.
“N-No, of course not. I wanted to come to you first, but you are training for the tag titles, and, Rob Arnold being taken away-“
“Mr Gunn…” Richards straightens up, a serious look on his face. “We already know and are messing with you!”
Gunn doesn’t know where to look, or what to do, was…was he being mocked by Riley fucking Richards?
“What can I say? it's been a rough few weeks here, we need to enjoy ourselves!”
Gunn exhales, to be honest the guy was in a bind, he’d not thought any of this through, he just needed to do everything in his power not to end up with egg on his face. Richards got that.
“Oh man, thank God.”
“So, what would you like to learn?” Richards asks with a warmer tone.
“Well, I want the experience you had, I don’t want any exceptions, guys like you and Jabroni came in and have got reasonable success, I need to be on that level, and I know, I know I’ve not got the same amount of time, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”
This doesn’t go down too well with Bristol’s Finest, and Leon Chant re-joins the scene at this point, seemingly having heard what the NLW General Manager just said.
“Mr Gunn, I’d had basic training in the UK before I came over here. My training here has been to refine my skills…not learn them.”
“As for Jabroni…he’s not exactly been giving technical masterclasses.”
The Academy members stare through Gunn, who looks like he’s so much on the defensive he may just assume the foetal position. No sooner does he retreat within himself though, he fights back, and gets in the former NLW Heavyweight Champion’s face.
“Leon, I need to know how to kick his ass because I don’t want to be his bitch for weeks. I don’t care what jokes you want to make, at this point I don’t care anymore. Help me, or tell me to leave, because I can’t be wasting more time. You keeping me on the hook? It’s a dick move, so help me, or don’t!”
Chant and Richards side eye each other, and Chant slowly says “Prep him” after a delayed silence, and walks off. Riley beams and puts his arm around Gunn.
“Well, Mr Gunn, Leon’s going to help you out, which is good, he’s beaten Blow twice, once in singles and once in a tag match, so he’ll be able to give you some pointers…” Richards trails off, and this doesn’t go unnoticed.
“…why did you trail off, Riley?”
“Well, you know how you wanted the same experience I got?”
“Maybe?”
“Well…When I first came here I had to spend five minutes in the ring with Leon.”
They both turn around, Leon Chant is in the ring, bouncing from foot to foot and a grin on his face, his hands beckoning Gunn to the ring. Gunn gulps and looks at Richards, and has one simple word to offer.
“Shit.”
