Post by robriot on Jul 30, 2021 6:35:21 GMT -5
“Good evening, Takaru.”
We hear Rob Riot's voice, but we can't see his face. That's because it's buried in a book - specifically "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu. He has his feet up on a comfortable looking Ottoman and sits deep in his antique leather armchair. As ever, he's sat in the front room of an opulent home. It could be his country manor in England, or he could have bought somewhere new in Canada. Riot always styles his properties to look the same, just as he always dresses the same way in tweed, corduroy, and white shirts.
He’s a man of consistency.
He idly reaches out to the oak table next to his sofa and picks up a glass of whisky, which he swirls and then sips before replacing.
“This is your bag, isn’t it? This book, I mean. It’s not from your country, but it’s pretty close. It’s all about tactics. Patience. Strategy. All that “honour of war” stuff. All interesting. All useless.”
He snaps the book shut and tosses it aside, where it audibly thuds as it hits the floor. Book lovers around the world wince. It looked like an expensive copy.
Riot focuses his full attention on the camera, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.
“You think you don’t have my attention. You do. You think I’m distracted. I’m not. See, this is a new one for me since I came back, Takaru. Everyone I’ve been in the ring with so far I’ve had a personal issue with. Things might not have started that way, but that’s how they ended. You’re different. With you, I have no issue at all. You might recall, in fact, that the GSP boys saved you the very first night we showed up in NPW. The night Donzig betrayed you. If it wasn’t for us…”
He opens his palms out into a small shrug.
"You might not be fit to compete right now. Who knows. Yet here we are, and you're talking about patience and respect. Well, here's the thing. I do respect you, Takaru. I've watched you. I know what you can do. More importantly, I know what it takes to beat you. See all the stuff in the book? Respect for your enemy, careful planning, honour? That gets you nowhere. Wrestling is a dirty business. You should have learned that after what Donzig did to you, but apparently, the message hasn't sunk in. Speaking of messages, that's exactly what you are. Allow me to be frank. Well, not THAT Frank because he'll address you himself, but frank as in "sincere."
His hands are briefly clasped back together again, but he leans back in his chair once more to take another sip of illegally imported whisky.
"The reason you have my attention is because we - the Bastards and GSP as a whole - need to send a message to the rest of the roster. What happens to you when you face us will dictate who we get next and how quickly we get to the KGB. That makes our match very important. I'm not looking past you, Takaru. I'm looking straight through you, because through you is where our path goes. Unfortunately, I suspect you're not going to get out of the way easily. That means we have to kick, punch, stomp and smash a hole through you. Given the way that certain other people are testing my patience at the moment, it's probably going to be a hole so big that Frank Windsor could fit through it. And so, I must apologise."
He looks genuinely remorseful for a moment, drumming his fingers on the side of his armchair awkwardly.
"I apologise because I'm not going to receive you like you receive me. I know you'll come into that ring to play fair. I know you respect me as a wrestler. Just for this one night on the Atlantic, I'll have to suspend my respect for you. I'll have to treat you as an object and beat you so badly that they'll be talking about it in promotions on the other side of the world. I'll exploit every weakness you have, Takaru, and I'll even be kind enough to tell you about two of them in advance. Number one is your sense of fairness. Number two…is your partner."
Riot snorts in derision and shakes his head, reaching for the glass again. When he puts it to his lips this time, he empties the glass.
"Your partner. I don't even know what to call him. I get the impression that he's called Hendricks, but "Hendricks" as the word would sound being screamed by someone wearing a ball gag. That's appropriate because the guy thinks he's a submission wrestler, but when we get into the ring, he's going to be a submissive little bitch. You can't tap me out, little boy. Looking at you, I'd say you're lucky to be 180 pounds soaking wet. I doubt you could even lift up one of Frank's limbs to put a submission move on him. You're the weak link in this blossoming team, and you know it. Takaru, I get the impression he's trying to hitch a ride on you to climb the rankings here in NPW. Heed this advice from someone who's been around the block a few times. Cut the deadweight off. You'd be better off without him. We'll even do you the courtesy of demonstrating the how and why of that in Stellarton."
Riot stands, stretching and cracking his neck in the process before reaching toward the camera to turn it off. Before he goes, though, he has one more proclamation to make.
“The Bastards are undefeated in NPW - and it’s going to stay that way for a long time. If you want to step up, step up. We have absolutely no problem putting anybody in their place. Everything you’ve seen so far is just the pre-title sequence. When the show really starts, it’s going to blow your mind.”
The camera is switched off. We return you to your scheduled NPW programming.
We hear Rob Riot's voice, but we can't see his face. That's because it's buried in a book - specifically "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu. He has his feet up on a comfortable looking Ottoman and sits deep in his antique leather armchair. As ever, he's sat in the front room of an opulent home. It could be his country manor in England, or he could have bought somewhere new in Canada. Riot always styles his properties to look the same, just as he always dresses the same way in tweed, corduroy, and white shirts.
He’s a man of consistency.
He idly reaches out to the oak table next to his sofa and picks up a glass of whisky, which he swirls and then sips before replacing.
“This is your bag, isn’t it? This book, I mean. It’s not from your country, but it’s pretty close. It’s all about tactics. Patience. Strategy. All that “honour of war” stuff. All interesting. All useless.”
He snaps the book shut and tosses it aside, where it audibly thuds as it hits the floor. Book lovers around the world wince. It looked like an expensive copy.
Riot focuses his full attention on the camera, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.
“You think you don’t have my attention. You do. You think I’m distracted. I’m not. See, this is a new one for me since I came back, Takaru. Everyone I’ve been in the ring with so far I’ve had a personal issue with. Things might not have started that way, but that’s how they ended. You’re different. With you, I have no issue at all. You might recall, in fact, that the GSP boys saved you the very first night we showed up in NPW. The night Donzig betrayed you. If it wasn’t for us…”
He opens his palms out into a small shrug.
"You might not be fit to compete right now. Who knows. Yet here we are, and you're talking about patience and respect. Well, here's the thing. I do respect you, Takaru. I've watched you. I know what you can do. More importantly, I know what it takes to beat you. See all the stuff in the book? Respect for your enemy, careful planning, honour? That gets you nowhere. Wrestling is a dirty business. You should have learned that after what Donzig did to you, but apparently, the message hasn't sunk in. Speaking of messages, that's exactly what you are. Allow me to be frank. Well, not THAT Frank because he'll address you himself, but frank as in "sincere."
His hands are briefly clasped back together again, but he leans back in his chair once more to take another sip of illegally imported whisky.
"The reason you have my attention is because we - the Bastards and GSP as a whole - need to send a message to the rest of the roster. What happens to you when you face us will dictate who we get next and how quickly we get to the KGB. That makes our match very important. I'm not looking past you, Takaru. I'm looking straight through you, because through you is where our path goes. Unfortunately, I suspect you're not going to get out of the way easily. That means we have to kick, punch, stomp and smash a hole through you. Given the way that certain other people are testing my patience at the moment, it's probably going to be a hole so big that Frank Windsor could fit through it. And so, I must apologise."
He looks genuinely remorseful for a moment, drumming his fingers on the side of his armchair awkwardly.
"I apologise because I'm not going to receive you like you receive me. I know you'll come into that ring to play fair. I know you respect me as a wrestler. Just for this one night on the Atlantic, I'll have to suspend my respect for you. I'll have to treat you as an object and beat you so badly that they'll be talking about it in promotions on the other side of the world. I'll exploit every weakness you have, Takaru, and I'll even be kind enough to tell you about two of them in advance. Number one is your sense of fairness. Number two…is your partner."
Riot snorts in derision and shakes his head, reaching for the glass again. When he puts it to his lips this time, he empties the glass.
"Your partner. I don't even know what to call him. I get the impression that he's called Hendricks, but "Hendricks" as the word would sound being screamed by someone wearing a ball gag. That's appropriate because the guy thinks he's a submission wrestler, but when we get into the ring, he's going to be a submissive little bitch. You can't tap me out, little boy. Looking at you, I'd say you're lucky to be 180 pounds soaking wet. I doubt you could even lift up one of Frank's limbs to put a submission move on him. You're the weak link in this blossoming team, and you know it. Takaru, I get the impression he's trying to hitch a ride on you to climb the rankings here in NPW. Heed this advice from someone who's been around the block a few times. Cut the deadweight off. You'd be better off without him. We'll even do you the courtesy of demonstrating the how and why of that in Stellarton."
Riot stands, stretching and cracking his neck in the process before reaching toward the camera to turn it off. Before he goes, though, he has one more proclamation to make.
“The Bastards are undefeated in NPW - and it’s going to stay that way for a long time. If you want to step up, step up. We have absolutely no problem putting anybody in their place. Everything you’ve seen so far is just the pre-title sequence. When the show really starts, it’s going to blow your mind.”
The camera is switched off. We return you to your scheduled NPW programming.