The Lay of the Land (NOC Trios RP)
Jul 20, 2021 4:59:35 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, vastrix, and 3 more like this
Post by robriot on Jul 20, 2021 4:59:35 GMT -5
“GUYS, WILL YOU KEEP IT DOWN BACK THERE? I’M TRYING TO CUT A PROMO!”
Rob Riot's face fills the screen. It's a super-close up - the kind you can only get when someone's holding a phone close to their face - but we can see just enough around the edges to know that we're on the Galactic Sex Pirates' ridiculous tour bus. There's laughter and the buzz of conversation in the background, and the camera jolts around as the bus rattles along the road. The gang is on its way to Minneapolis, Minnesota, for the XHF's "Night of Champions" event.
Shaking his head as the volume level barely dips, Riot returns his attention to the viewers.
"Trouble. That's what this bus is. That's what the people on it bring. And right now, we're planning a major operation at Night of Champions. Now, I'm a professional guy. When I get in the ring, I'm usually all about business. That won't be the case for this trios match, kids. See, I had a personal interest in the KGB when I got back into the ring, but people seem to be determined to interject themselves in our business. People seem to have….issues. Let's deal with them one at a time. One."
Riot jerks his hand up toward the camera, raising one finger. In the process, it sounds like he knocks over a full can of beer.
"FRANK! These things are everywhere! You're leaving cans half empty and then opening new…Frank, are you even listening? Ah, sod it. Number one. Everyone else in this match is apparently sour that the Bastards got invited to the dance. Let me explain how that works. The wrestling business is exactly that - a business. The people involved in that business have to make money. That means selling tickets to live events and persuading people to buy Pay Per Views. This event is a big deal for the XHF. Do you really think people are going to tune in to watch the Revenants against the KGB and Team Fairtex?
He throws his head back in mock laughter.
"A match needs a draw, boys, and you aren't it. When tickets aren't selling, you call for the big guns. It was idiotic for anyone even to try to run a trios tournament without the greatest trio in the business, but full credit to both NPW and the XHF for realising their mistake and then correcting it. Business, as the fat old man in the hat used to say, has picked up. Don't blame us for crashing the party, boys; blame yourselves for not being over enough to carry the match on your own. Two."
This time he manages to get another finger up without dislodging any more of Frank’s can collection. He allows himself a small nod of satisfaction.
"Armand von Krauss wants me to face the facts. He thinks he's outgrown me. Armand, the whole world saw you turn white as a sheet when we showed up in NPW. You were shaking in your shitty little German brothel creepers. You're not here to dictate the lay of the land to me, Armand. I'm here to dictate it to you. You're the real reason I'm here. The rest of the KGB is collateral damage, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy what we do to them. If Donzig wants to make bad career choices and hitch his wagon up to you, that's his own funeral. Soutter should be old enough to know better. The rules of wrestling changed when we came back, and new rule number one is if you stand with von Krauss, you get knocked down. Do with that information as you will. You don't strike me as smart enough to take the hint, so I guess we'll have to beat it into you. Now here's number three."
A thin smile crosses Riot’s lips. He reaches for the camera and brings it even closer to his face, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes.
"The Revenants. So cool. So slick. So determined to get in the way, and yet so beaten already. Do you know what counts in wrestling, boys? Wins and losses. The record books show that the Bastards have beaten the Revenants already. DQ, count out, however it goes, we'll take it. All you proved last time out in NPW is that you couldn't get the job done on us two on two, so what in the Hell makes you think you can get it done three on three when the third man on our team is a literal giant? You've already shown your hand, and you're packing nothing. No pocket aces, no flush, no streak other than that yellow one that runs up Carner's back. When you jumped Frank at the end of our last match, you bit a dragon on the tail, and you singularly failed to run away. Now it's going to turn around and burn you alive."
He sits back in his chair on the coach, wincing a little as he feels the crunch of yet another can behind him. He pulls it out and takes a swig out of sheer morbid curiosity before pulling a disgusted face and putting it back.
“Now I’ve dealt with all of our opponents…”
”FAIRTEX!”
It was Fowler’s voice coming from the back of the bus. Riot looks blank for a second, and turns round to shout back to Billy.
”Who?!”
“FAIRTEX! The two Chinese guys and the 90s goth guy!”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.”
The Riot Star turns back to the camera with a sheepish expression on his face.
“Yes. Team Fairtex and Psychotic Goth. Um….thanks for coming, I guess?”
He shrugs, looking a little awkward.
"That's it. That's all I've got. You're room meat. You're there to make up the numbers. You know it, I know it, the Revenants know it, and the KGB know it. But hey, good on you for getting a pay per view paycheck, right?"
Holding up both hands, Riot offers them a big grin and two thumbs up.
"All of you boys need to know something. When the Galactic Sex Pirates come to play, we'll have a little fun while we're beating you up. When you're in with the Bastards, it's all of the beatings but none of the fun. We're a career-killing machine - and those belts are ours."
He reaches out and taps the side of his phone, ending the recording.
Rob Riot's face fills the screen. It's a super-close up - the kind you can only get when someone's holding a phone close to their face - but we can see just enough around the edges to know that we're on the Galactic Sex Pirates' ridiculous tour bus. There's laughter and the buzz of conversation in the background, and the camera jolts around as the bus rattles along the road. The gang is on its way to Minneapolis, Minnesota, for the XHF's "Night of Champions" event.
Shaking his head as the volume level barely dips, Riot returns his attention to the viewers.
"Trouble. That's what this bus is. That's what the people on it bring. And right now, we're planning a major operation at Night of Champions. Now, I'm a professional guy. When I get in the ring, I'm usually all about business. That won't be the case for this trios match, kids. See, I had a personal interest in the KGB when I got back into the ring, but people seem to be determined to interject themselves in our business. People seem to have….issues. Let's deal with them one at a time. One."
Riot jerks his hand up toward the camera, raising one finger. In the process, it sounds like he knocks over a full can of beer.
"FRANK! These things are everywhere! You're leaving cans half empty and then opening new…Frank, are you even listening? Ah, sod it. Number one. Everyone else in this match is apparently sour that the Bastards got invited to the dance. Let me explain how that works. The wrestling business is exactly that - a business. The people involved in that business have to make money. That means selling tickets to live events and persuading people to buy Pay Per Views. This event is a big deal for the XHF. Do you really think people are going to tune in to watch the Revenants against the KGB and Team Fairtex?
He throws his head back in mock laughter.
"A match needs a draw, boys, and you aren't it. When tickets aren't selling, you call for the big guns. It was idiotic for anyone even to try to run a trios tournament without the greatest trio in the business, but full credit to both NPW and the XHF for realising their mistake and then correcting it. Business, as the fat old man in the hat used to say, has picked up. Don't blame us for crashing the party, boys; blame yourselves for not being over enough to carry the match on your own. Two."
This time he manages to get another finger up without dislodging any more of Frank’s can collection. He allows himself a small nod of satisfaction.
"Armand von Krauss wants me to face the facts. He thinks he's outgrown me. Armand, the whole world saw you turn white as a sheet when we showed up in NPW. You were shaking in your shitty little German brothel creepers. You're not here to dictate the lay of the land to me, Armand. I'm here to dictate it to you. You're the real reason I'm here. The rest of the KGB is collateral damage, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy what we do to them. If Donzig wants to make bad career choices and hitch his wagon up to you, that's his own funeral. Soutter should be old enough to know better. The rules of wrestling changed when we came back, and new rule number one is if you stand with von Krauss, you get knocked down. Do with that information as you will. You don't strike me as smart enough to take the hint, so I guess we'll have to beat it into you. Now here's number three."
A thin smile crosses Riot’s lips. He reaches for the camera and brings it even closer to his face, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes.
"The Revenants. So cool. So slick. So determined to get in the way, and yet so beaten already. Do you know what counts in wrestling, boys? Wins and losses. The record books show that the Bastards have beaten the Revenants already. DQ, count out, however it goes, we'll take it. All you proved last time out in NPW is that you couldn't get the job done on us two on two, so what in the Hell makes you think you can get it done three on three when the third man on our team is a literal giant? You've already shown your hand, and you're packing nothing. No pocket aces, no flush, no streak other than that yellow one that runs up Carner's back. When you jumped Frank at the end of our last match, you bit a dragon on the tail, and you singularly failed to run away. Now it's going to turn around and burn you alive."
He sits back in his chair on the coach, wincing a little as he feels the crunch of yet another can behind him. He pulls it out and takes a swig out of sheer morbid curiosity before pulling a disgusted face and putting it back.
“Now I’ve dealt with all of our opponents…”
”FAIRTEX!”
It was Fowler’s voice coming from the back of the bus. Riot looks blank for a second, and turns round to shout back to Billy.
”Who?!”
“FAIRTEX! The two Chinese guys and the 90s goth guy!”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.”
The Riot Star turns back to the camera with a sheepish expression on his face.
“Yes. Team Fairtex and Psychotic Goth. Um….thanks for coming, I guess?”
He shrugs, looking a little awkward.
"That's it. That's all I've got. You're room meat. You're there to make up the numbers. You know it, I know it, the Revenants know it, and the KGB know it. But hey, good on you for getting a pay per view paycheck, right?"
Holding up both hands, Riot offers them a big grin and two thumbs up.
"All of you boys need to know something. When the Galactic Sex Pirates come to play, we'll have a little fun while we're beating you up. When you're in with the Bastards, it's all of the beatings but none of the fun. We're a career-killing machine - and those belts are ours."
He reaches out and taps the side of his phone, ending the recording.