Wrestling Culture (A Storm [XHF/GWX] RP)
May 22, 2017 20:37:32 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer likes this
Post by ForeverKuroi on May 22, 2017 20:37:32 GMT -5
Fade in. The location: Michael Storm's basement. It looks furnished. There's a large screen television fixed to the wall with a cream-colored sectional. There floor is covered by a caramel-covered carpet. But Storm isn't about to lounge around on the couch and play Destiny on the Playstation 4. The sounds of slamming and grunting assure the XHF Network viewers of that. The camera pans and finds Michael Clarke Duncan holding a large, red punching bag. Michael Storm is on the other side, throwing his lefts and his rights. Both are in workout attire - sneakers, t-shirts and shorts.
"Hey, Mike. How much... How much longer of this do we have?"
"Just because you asked that dumb ass question, about another ten minutes."
Storm is huffing and puffing through the blows. The sweat is pouring down his face and even dripping onto the carpet.
"It's taking a toll on me. Like we just started and I'm already feeling like I can't take much more. I don't remember getting this tired in the past."
"Well that's why we're doing this. I'd rather have you look like a weak bitch in front of me rather than in front of the audience. A lot of people are going to look up to you. They see someone out of the business. They see someone who used to have it all, and they expect that same level of intensity you used to bring to the table. Right now, you wouldn't be able to bring it to the table. Hell, I'm not even sure if you'd have a table. That's why I'm here. I'm here to turn your fat into muscle. I'm here to suck the weakness out of your body and turn it into your strength."
"And do we have any word about this Shay McKay guy, yet?"
"No. And I know what you're thinking. Don't let it bother you."
"You can't just tell me not to let it worry me, Duncan. You know how things were in the XHF. If I got into a match with someone, I wouldn't be able to shut them up. Every week. Every day. Hell - every other hour it'd be the same thing. 'Oh, look at me. I'm this big guy with this big muscles and I've won this match and beat this guy, and I'm going to beat you on Gastro!' This guy's different. He's not saying a damn word. You know what that means?"
"He speaks Gaelic and not English?"
"No. It means he not going to hype himself up like the others. Because he doesn't need to. He's going to let his fists do the talking. That's how you know he's not a rookie. That's how you know he's better than the bottom-feeders I've gone up against. Not just at XHF, but all over. Which brings me to my next point..."
Michael Clarke Duncan lifts his eyebrow.
"If I'm going back to the XHF network, I'm going to have to get used to the creepy shit I've dealt with at the XHF. I'm putting myself in that environment again. Everything I've seen before, I'm likely going to see again."
Out of nowhere, MCD pushes the punching bag - hard. It smacks Michael Storm in the face. The force causes him to stagger back and mixed with his exhaustion, it nearly knocks him off his feet. Michael Clarke Duncan quickly circles around the punching bag and lands a strong right hook to Storm's side. It pushes him so hard that the wall catches him.
"That's what I'm talk about, Storm. You got to worry about the pain. You've got to worry about the unexpected turns. I don't want you to worry about if it's going to hurt. If the XHF is going to make you shed those blood, sweat and tears. I want you to thirst for that! I want you to become a sadist to your own damn body!"
Storm grimaces as he begins to push himself off the wall. He begins to rub his side.
"No, you fucking idiot. That's not what I was talking about. I'm not worried about the pain. I'm worried about the shady dealings I've dealt with in the past. I remember those backstage attacks. I remember joining up with MGK and many other bad apples in Darkside. I didn't think about it in the past, but for all I knew, MGK used that name to mock me and my background."
"Don't look at it as a bad time, Storm. You were the Hardcore champion at that time. You were the Hardcore Icon, and you'll be a Hardcore Icon again."
"I was reckless, damn it. It's not just jumping off of ladders, hitting The Prince of Pain covered in barbed wire. It's how I treated others. Do you remember Chuck E' Cheese?"
"Do I remember it? Hot damn, I was the champ at the Whack A Mole game! Those little pieces of shit can't handle me where I got my hammer. After a while, you find out that there's actually a pattern on when they come o-"
"Shut the fuck up, Duncan. That's not what I'm talking to you about! I'm not going on a huge story about my moral development just so you can tell me about your fucking whack a mole tangents. There was a huge incident that happened years ago when MGK had a spat with AJ Phoenix. We just popped up at his daughter's birthday party. We weren't on the clock. We weren't in the ring. It wasn't business for MGK. Or fuck, maybe it was business. Maybe this was just how he tried to show his alpha-male mentality. But anyway, we came in there and stormed the place. He brought his daughter to tears, AJ to tears. This guy, CK Owens and I even held AJ down just so MGK could get the last word. Just so he could force him to watch as MGK tore his family apart. This isn't something I wanted to do. I did it because of MGK. Because he took me under his wing. I thought that's who I wanted to look up to in order to be successful in this business. I'm disgusted with who I used to be, and I want to make sure not to be that person ever again."
Michael Clarke Duncan walks across the room and pulls out a couple of bottles of bottled water. He throws one over to Storm.
"That's in the past, Storm. You're not going to be that kind of person anymore. And those people aren't there anymore. I haven't heard of MGK since the XHF closed down. For all we know, he's dead. No one from the past is going to come back like that."
"Oh, you have no idea, Duncan. You don't know about Terry Bradshaw who came back. I remember the kind of person he used to be when we were in the XHF. I remember we were getting to the stadium shortly before a show and he was helping an old lady crossing the street."
"That's awfully kind of him!"
"Except that it wasn't an old lady. It looked like a dead lion. It looks like he came across a dead lion, thought it was an elderly lady, offered to give it a hand in crossing the street so she wouldn't get hurt. He had such a big grin and a spring to his step, like he was an upstanding citizen."
"Now that's some fucked up shit. Aren't lions endangered, too?"
"I don't fucking know. Yeah. Probably. The confusing part was that we were at a show in London. There aren't any lions in the United Kingdom. I think he went sport hunting at a fucking zoo. That crazy son of a bitch. I can imagine the zoo closing one evening and in the lion exhibit, Bradshaw slowly emerges from the shadows as the staff is leaving, pulling out a sniper rifle. Jeeze, and to make matters worse, he's gotten even more insane. Before, I just thought of him as a probably-harmless old man who wandered off from his retirement home and Mongo didn't have the heart to tell him that his Cribbage game isn't going to be held in front of 100,000 fans. Now, I mean... you saw what he did, right?"
"No, what did he d-"
Storm interrupts him.
"HE BURNED DOWN A HOSPITAL BECAUSE HE THOUGHT A CLOCK WAS MOCKING HIM! Geez, Duncan. Now do you see why I'm worried about coming back? It's not just wondering if I'm good enough to be with the best. It's wondering if I'm mentally fit to be among those who are so clearly not. I was lucky to leave the game the first time around with my noggin'. Without it, I couldn't in the investment business. And now, you pushed me back in."
Michael Clarke Duncan immediately stops talking, looking down at the ground.
"And now there's a new generation of wrestlers. A bunch of names I haven't heard of. For all I know, they're getting better. They're level headed."
"Or perhaps they're going to be worse."
Storm opens his bottle of water and takes a sip. He looks over Duncan's shoulder and finds an old picture of Michael Storm, posing with the XHF Hardcore Championship.
"I don't know if they're going to be better. But I will. It'd be a disgusting sight to see one of the XHF's greatest hardcore icons be defeated like that. We have the knowledge, and I'm going to show them a little bit of the old wrestling culture."
Fade out.
"Hey, Mike. How much... How much longer of this do we have?" "Just because you asked that dumb ass question, about another ten minutes."Storm is huffing and puffing through the blows. The sweat is pouring down his face and even dripping onto the carpet.
"It's taking a toll on me. Like we just started and I'm already feeling like I can't take much more. I don't remember getting this tired in the past." "Well that's why we're doing this. I'd rather have you look like a weak bitch in front of me rather than in front of the audience. A lot of people are going to look up to you. They see someone out of the business. They see someone who used to have it all, and they expect that same level of intensity you used to bring to the table. Right now, you wouldn't be able to bring it to the table. Hell, I'm not even sure if you'd have a table. That's why I'm here. I'm here to turn your fat into muscle. I'm here to suck the weakness out of your body and turn it into your strength." "And do we have any word about this Shay McKay guy, yet?" "No. And I know what you're thinking. Don't let it bother you." "You can't just tell me not to let it worry me, Duncan. You know how things were in the XHF. If I got into a match with someone, I wouldn't be able to shut them up. Every week. Every day. Hell - every other hour it'd be the same thing. 'Oh, look at me. I'm this big guy with this big muscles and I've won this match and beat this guy, and I'm going to beat you on Gastro!' This guy's different. He's not saying a damn word. You know what that means?" "He speaks Gaelic and not English?" "No. It means he not going to hype himself up like the others. Because he doesn't need to. He's going to let his fists do the talking. That's how you know he's not a rookie. That's how you know he's better than the bottom-feeders I've gone up against. Not just at XHF, but all over. Which brings me to my next point..."Michael Clarke Duncan lifts his eyebrow.
"If I'm going back to the XHF network, I'm going to have to get used to the creepy shit I've dealt with at the XHF. I'm putting myself in that environment again. Everything I've seen before, I'm likely going to see again."Out of nowhere, MCD pushes the punching bag - hard. It smacks Michael Storm in the face. The force causes him to stagger back and mixed with his exhaustion, it nearly knocks him off his feet. Michael Clarke Duncan quickly circles around the punching bag and lands a strong right hook to Storm's side. It pushes him so hard that the wall catches him.
"That's what I'm talk about, Storm. You got to worry about the pain. You've got to worry about the unexpected turns. I don't want you to worry about if it's going to hurt. If the XHF is going to make you shed those blood, sweat and tears. I want you to thirst for that! I want you to become a sadist to your own damn body!"Storm grimaces as he begins to push himself off the wall. He begins to rub his side.
"No, you fucking idiot. That's not what I was talking about. I'm not worried about the pain. I'm worried about the shady dealings I've dealt with in the past. I remember those backstage attacks. I remember joining up with MGK and many other bad apples in Darkside. I didn't think about it in the past, but for all I knew, MGK used that name to mock me and my background." "Don't look at it as a bad time, Storm. You were the Hardcore champion at that time. You were the Hardcore Icon, and you'll be a Hardcore Icon again." "I was reckless, damn it. It's not just jumping off of ladders, hitting The Prince of Pain covered in barbed wire. It's how I treated others. Do you remember Chuck E' Cheese?" "Do I remember it? Hot damn, I was the champ at the Whack A Mole game! Those little pieces of shit can't handle me where I got my hammer. After a while, you find out that there's actually a pattern on when they come o-" "Shut the fuck up, Duncan. That's not what I'm talking to you about! I'm not going on a huge story about my moral development just so you can tell me about your fucking whack a mole tangents. There was a huge incident that happened years ago when MGK had a spat with AJ Phoenix. We just popped up at his daughter's birthday party. We weren't on the clock. We weren't in the ring. It wasn't business for MGK. Or fuck, maybe it was business. Maybe this was just how he tried to show his alpha-male mentality. But anyway, we came in there and stormed the place. He brought his daughter to tears, AJ to tears. This guy, CK Owens and I even held AJ down just so MGK could get the last word. Just so he could force him to watch as MGK tore his family apart. This isn't something I wanted to do. I did it because of MGK. Because he took me under his wing. I thought that's who I wanted to look up to in order to be successful in this business. I'm disgusted with who I used to be, and I want to make sure not to be that person ever again."Michael Clarke Duncan walks across the room and pulls out a couple of bottles of bottled water. He throws one over to Storm.
"That's in the past, Storm. You're not going to be that kind of person anymore. And those people aren't there anymore. I haven't heard of MGK since the XHF closed down. For all we know, he's dead. No one from the past is going to come back like that." "Oh, you have no idea, Duncan. You don't know about Terry Bradshaw who came back. I remember the kind of person he used to be when we were in the XHF. I remember we were getting to the stadium shortly before a show and he was helping an old lady crossing the street." "That's awfully kind of him!" "Except that it wasn't an old lady. It looked like a dead lion. It looks like he came across a dead lion, thought it was an elderly lady, offered to give it a hand in crossing the street so she wouldn't get hurt. He had such a big grin and a spring to his step, like he was an upstanding citizen." "Now that's some fucked up shit. Aren't lions endangered, too?" "I don't fucking know. Yeah. Probably. The confusing part was that we were at a show in London. There aren't any lions in the United Kingdom. I think he went sport hunting at a fucking zoo. That crazy son of a bitch. I can imagine the zoo closing one evening and in the lion exhibit, Bradshaw slowly emerges from the shadows as the staff is leaving, pulling out a sniper rifle. Jeeze, and to make matters worse, he's gotten even more insane. Before, I just thought of him as a probably-harmless old man who wandered off from his retirement home and Mongo didn't have the heart to tell him that his Cribbage game isn't going to be held in front of 100,000 fans. Now, I mean... you saw what he did, right?" "No, what did he d-"Storm interrupts him.
"HE BURNED DOWN A HOSPITAL BECAUSE HE THOUGHT A CLOCK WAS MOCKING HIM! Geez, Duncan. Now do you see why I'm worried about coming back? It's not just wondering if I'm good enough to be with the best. It's wondering if I'm mentally fit to be among those who are so clearly not. I was lucky to leave the game the first time around with my noggin'. Without it, I couldn't in the investment business. And now, you pushed me back in."Michael Clarke Duncan immediately stops talking, looking down at the ground.
"And now there's a new generation of wrestlers. A bunch of names I haven't heard of. For all I know, they're getting better. They're level headed." "Or perhaps they're going to be worse."Storm opens his bottle of water and takes a sip. He looks over Duncan's shoulder and finds an old picture of Michael Storm, posing with the XHF Hardcore Championship.
"I don't know if they're going to be better. But I will. It'd be a disgusting sight to see one of the XHF's greatest hardcore icons be defeated like that. We have the knowledge, and I'm going to show them a little bit of the old wrestling culture."Fade out.
