The Goliath (NLW RP: Ascendancy XVIII)
Jul 1, 2021 22:27:02 GMT -5
187, ulvendagoth, and 1 more like this
Post by Thespian on Jul 1, 2021 22:27:02 GMT -5
I have to give it to this place… it has it’s stuff nice and organized.
… Save for the psychopathic hobo that somehow became the General Manager recently, but, hey, at least he allowed me into the company with full commitment to this gimmick. He didn’t even ask for my name… or a background check!
I suppose the same could be said for my opponent.
My first match in four years. I’m happy it is against another debutant with some experience behind his belt. But…
I’m sincerely not sure how I feel about facing such a man.
A former “bail enforcement agent” who looks as if he belongs in jail rather than putting people in there. Mix in the hardcore wrestling, upfront brutality, and the less-than-obvious nickname and company name… and you got a very fake man.
Still, I cannot really afford to take it easy against someone like this. We’re both unreadable here, and he clearly has the stature advantage over me.
Maybe if I whittle at his legs enough, I can--
No. You're a new gimmick. You're not using your old finisher, you're using others’ finishers, or the suplex...
Okay, but how in the absolute fuck do you expect to lift someone that weighs nearly double your weight! Worse than that, how do you expect to STALL that suplex for the copied finisher?
Holy shit, this gimmick is falling apart from the start. I suppose I could maybe get away with stealing that Dive Bomb… but, God, do I hate high-risk moves...
Signatures, signatures… oh, I could definitely use those stomps to wear the fat-ass down… and the Ghetto Blaster! I can try to finish him with that before I need to take the dive!
… no, this man is built like a tank and his skull is probably twice as thick. Fuck, what do I do?!
These were the thoughts that plagued our protagonist. He slouched in a cheap yet cozy computer chair, provided by his hotel room, as he scrolled through the profile of his opponent on his smartphone. Behind the pale skinsuit that he wore, his brow furrowed anxiously.
After another moment of panicking, a knock comes from the room’s door, with the seemingly polite voice of a man behind it:
“Sir, are you ready for me now?”
Fuck, he’s already here? Agh, alright, yeah, I got a good plan going for me, I guess.
The Thespian raised his hands up before clapping once. Fully understanding the single clap, he man stepped into the hotel room; he was dressed just as nicely as the Thespian was, but with more of a refined air about him. He had tanned skin with a decent amount of hair over his skull and lip. Everything from his body language to voice screamed “Butler.” In the man’s hands, he held a camera and a tripod.
Oh, perfect, you didn't forget anything. Yes, come in, come in. Get set up.
The Thespian beckoned him into the room with only his hand movements, before motioning him to set-up the tripod in-front of himself. Once the butler had the camera set up, he began a count-down to start the recording. With the Thespian being the only thing in view, he straightened himself up once the countdown ended, raised his hands in view and began to make a complex array of gestures with them. Should one be familiar, they would recognize it as American Sign Language. In the background, the man recording offered his voice as translation for the video:
“Good day to all those within Next Level Wrestling. I am the Thespian, and it is a pleasure to meet all of you today. I cannot wait to entertain you all in the ring next Ascendancy.”
A pause, before the gestures continued.
“Now, I would like to address my opponent, Erik Killings. You seem formidable; a towering giant compared to me! I am almost intimidated, but you know what they say: the bigger they are!”
He imitated a hearty laugh beneath the pale skinsuit. He raised his hands one last time to “speak.”
“Let’s see how good you are when you don’t depend on lavish brutality to win your matches. It will be a privilege to face you. May the better man win… and above all else, I hope that you’ll be entertained.”
The mute wrestler finished his “speech” by folding his hands politely in his lap and bowing his hand. The camera faded out from there.
… Save for the psychopathic hobo that somehow became the General Manager recently, but, hey, at least he allowed me into the company with full commitment to this gimmick. He didn’t even ask for my name… or a background check!
I suppose the same could be said for my opponent.
My first match in four years. I’m happy it is against another debutant with some experience behind his belt. But…
I’m sincerely not sure how I feel about facing such a man.
A former “bail enforcement agent” who looks as if he belongs in jail rather than putting people in there. Mix in the hardcore wrestling, upfront brutality, and the less-than-obvious nickname and company name… and you got a very fake man.
Still, I cannot really afford to take it easy against someone like this. We’re both unreadable here, and he clearly has the stature advantage over me.
Maybe if I whittle at his legs enough, I can--
No. You're a new gimmick. You're not using your old finisher, you're using others’ finishers, or the suplex...
Okay, but how in the absolute fuck do you expect to lift someone that weighs nearly double your weight! Worse than that, how do you expect to STALL that suplex for the copied finisher?
Holy shit, this gimmick is falling apart from the start. I suppose I could maybe get away with stealing that Dive Bomb… but, God, do I hate high-risk moves...
Signatures, signatures… oh, I could definitely use those stomps to wear the fat-ass down… and the Ghetto Blaster! I can try to finish him with that before I need to take the dive!
… no, this man is built like a tank and his skull is probably twice as thick. Fuck, what do I do?!
These were the thoughts that plagued our protagonist. He slouched in a cheap yet cozy computer chair, provided by his hotel room, as he scrolled through the profile of his opponent on his smartphone. Behind the pale skinsuit that he wore, his brow furrowed anxiously.
After another moment of panicking, a knock comes from the room’s door, with the seemingly polite voice of a man behind it:
“Sir, are you ready for me now?”
Fuck, he’s already here? Agh, alright, yeah, I got a good plan going for me, I guess.
The Thespian raised his hands up before clapping once. Fully understanding the single clap, he man stepped into the hotel room; he was dressed just as nicely as the Thespian was, but with more of a refined air about him. He had tanned skin with a decent amount of hair over his skull and lip. Everything from his body language to voice screamed “Butler.” In the man’s hands, he held a camera and a tripod.
Oh, perfect, you didn't forget anything. Yes, come in, come in. Get set up.
The Thespian beckoned him into the room with only his hand movements, before motioning him to set-up the tripod in-front of himself. Once the butler had the camera set up, he began a count-down to start the recording. With the Thespian being the only thing in view, he straightened himself up once the countdown ended, raised his hands in view and began to make a complex array of gestures with them. Should one be familiar, they would recognize it as American Sign Language. In the background, the man recording offered his voice as translation for the video:
“Good day to all those within Next Level Wrestling. I am the Thespian, and it is a pleasure to meet all of you today. I cannot wait to entertain you all in the ring next Ascendancy.”
A pause, before the gestures continued.
“Now, I would like to address my opponent, Erik Killings. You seem formidable; a towering giant compared to me! I am almost intimidated, but you know what they say: the bigger they are!”
He imitated a hearty laugh beneath the pale skinsuit. He raised his hands one last time to “speak.”
“Let’s see how good you are when you don’t depend on lavish brutality to win your matches. It will be a privilege to face you. May the better man win… and above all else, I hope that you’ll be entertained.”
The mute wrestler finished his “speech” by folding his hands politely in his lap and bowing his hand. The camera faded out from there.