Post by robriot on Aug 9, 2021 6:00:26 GMT -5
We open in a darkened movie theatre somewhere in Halifax, Nova Scotia. On the screen, a list of credits roll, accompanied by overly dramatic music. A private screening of 'Terminator: Dark Fate' has just ended. Inside the theatre are just two patrons, illuminated only by the dim light of the screen. Those two patrons, surrounded by popcorn and empty beer bottles, are Rob Riot and Frank Windsor of the Bastards. Frank looks gently buzzed. Riot looks irritated, rubbing his face with his hands. He tries to make sense of what he's seen.
"Right, Frank. So let me get this straight. This film invalidated the timeline of "Terminator: Genisys." In turn, that film invalidated the timeline of "Terminator 2" and basically made it so the events of "Terminator 3" never happened. Have I got that straight now?"
Frank, who’s mostly been enjoying the fight scenes and special effects but nothing more, isn’t sure.
"Fuck knows. Maybe. All I know is history has been changed, and the human race will continue brah. We beat the fucking machines."
"OK. Good. So, to confirm, we've spent the entire day watching every 'Terminator' movie in order. My head is pickled by it. Continuity is all over the place, and nothing makes any sense. Can you remind me how this is supposed to help us beat the Dark Stars?"
A glazed look passes over Frank’s weathered features.
"Oh. Fuck. I forgot about that. Um, I think it had something to do with working out how to stop people who'd come from the future to change the past or some shit? Like, aren't they from fifty thousand light-years away on the planet Jobber?"
“They’re not really from the future, Frank. They’re just two deluded curtain jerkers working a 1980s gimmick in the vain hope that it might help them to sell some t-shirts. Apparently, they don’t know that all you need to do to sell t-shirts is be cool like us. Which is why these Bastards t-shirts are selling like hotcakes on the NPW website.”
Riot and Windsor pause for a moment and look straight at the camera with their thumbs up, allowing everybody at home a good look at their latest t-shirts. Riot's right. They're pretty cool.
Frank tries to get his head around the situation at hand.
“So they’re not like the Terminator? Or Kang and Kodos from ‘The Simpsons?’ ‘Cos I was gonna suggest we spend the rest of the day watching them for research….”
"They're a little like Kang and Kodos from 'The Simpsons,' but only in the way that they're comic relief, and all their plans are doomed to fail unless it's a Halloween episode. The last time I checked a calendar, October was two months away. I think we're good for that."
"Last time I checked a calendar was January 2020, brah, so I'll take your word for that."
“These boys have nothing, Frank. Nothing whatsoever. Anyone who goes looking for a gimmick as big as theirs is trying to mask something. In this case, it’s their total lack of wrestling ability and their failure to connect with the audience as their real selves. They need a reality check, and the best way for us to give them one is to slap them around the head until they realise who they are, what year it is, and what a pair of merciless bastards they’re in the ring with. That’s our bread and butter. If the names Niko and Kono ever become famous, it’ll be because some zoo somewhere gave the names to a pair of endangered pandas. They’re not becoming famous on our watch in any way other than the beating we’re going to put on them will be legendary. LIGHTS!”
Riot claps his hands. Presumably, some cinema lackey hits a switch somewhere in the back because the lights come back on. Frank is covered in crumbs. Riot looks at him with gentle disdain.
“You know, I didn’t even touch any of the snacks. You’ve been through the whole pile yourself.”
Frank takes a moment to look around himself. The empty popcorn carton. The family size bag of Doritos. The clinking bottles at his feet. He grins.
“So what? I didn’t have any fucking breakfast because we had to get here so early. This was me making up for it.”
“Your blood must basically be syrup at this point.”
“Mmm, syrup. Tasty. Anyway, the Dark Stars aren’t terminators. That’s cool. What about I-69?”
"Yeah, I got nothing on them. Absolutely nothing. Apparently, they used to be a big deal, but then they went away for a while and literally nobody missed them. One of them's called Sherlock. Maybe he could invest his time investigating the mystery of why anyone thinks his tag team is still relevant now the Bastards are in town. Or perhaps the riddle of why a tag team would name itself after a road."
“They might be named after a road, Rob, but you know what?”
Riot sighs. He knows there’s a very bad joke coming.
“What?”
“Whether they’re on a road or not, 69 is a damn good position to be in.”
Frank grins again. Riot shakes his head.
"Honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm on tour with Roy Chubby Brown. But yes, OK. The only thing they're going to have in common with the 69 is the pair of them are going to finish this match upside down, and if they're lucky, they might be able to reach far enough to kiss my ass. No threats detected. Not from I-69, not from the Dark Stars, and not from anyone who stands in our way of becoming Imperial Crown Tag Team Champions. This is one of the reasons we came back to the business, Frank. To crush heads and win straps. We climb the next rung on the ladder on August 25th, and we step on the heads of the Dark Stars and I-69 to get there.”
“All this talk of climbing is making me thirsty. Pub?”
“Meh. Why not.”
Riot and Windsor stand up, dust themselves down, and head out into Halifax to find a bar. Your private audience with the two Bastards is over.
"Right, Frank. So let me get this straight. This film invalidated the timeline of "Terminator: Genisys." In turn, that film invalidated the timeline of "Terminator 2" and basically made it so the events of "Terminator 3" never happened. Have I got that straight now?"
Frank, who’s mostly been enjoying the fight scenes and special effects but nothing more, isn’t sure.
"Fuck knows. Maybe. All I know is history has been changed, and the human race will continue brah. We beat the fucking machines."
"OK. Good. So, to confirm, we've spent the entire day watching every 'Terminator' movie in order. My head is pickled by it. Continuity is all over the place, and nothing makes any sense. Can you remind me how this is supposed to help us beat the Dark Stars?"
A glazed look passes over Frank’s weathered features.
"Oh. Fuck. I forgot about that. Um, I think it had something to do with working out how to stop people who'd come from the future to change the past or some shit? Like, aren't they from fifty thousand light-years away on the planet Jobber?"
“They’re not really from the future, Frank. They’re just two deluded curtain jerkers working a 1980s gimmick in the vain hope that it might help them to sell some t-shirts. Apparently, they don’t know that all you need to do to sell t-shirts is be cool like us. Which is why these Bastards t-shirts are selling like hotcakes on the NPW website.”
Riot and Windsor pause for a moment and look straight at the camera with their thumbs up, allowing everybody at home a good look at their latest t-shirts. Riot's right. They're pretty cool.
Frank tries to get his head around the situation at hand.
“So they’re not like the Terminator? Or Kang and Kodos from ‘The Simpsons?’ ‘Cos I was gonna suggest we spend the rest of the day watching them for research….”
"They're a little like Kang and Kodos from 'The Simpsons,' but only in the way that they're comic relief, and all their plans are doomed to fail unless it's a Halloween episode. The last time I checked a calendar, October was two months away. I think we're good for that."
"Last time I checked a calendar was January 2020, brah, so I'll take your word for that."
“These boys have nothing, Frank. Nothing whatsoever. Anyone who goes looking for a gimmick as big as theirs is trying to mask something. In this case, it’s their total lack of wrestling ability and their failure to connect with the audience as their real selves. They need a reality check, and the best way for us to give them one is to slap them around the head until they realise who they are, what year it is, and what a pair of merciless bastards they’re in the ring with. That’s our bread and butter. If the names Niko and Kono ever become famous, it’ll be because some zoo somewhere gave the names to a pair of endangered pandas. They’re not becoming famous on our watch in any way other than the beating we’re going to put on them will be legendary. LIGHTS!”
Riot claps his hands. Presumably, some cinema lackey hits a switch somewhere in the back because the lights come back on. Frank is covered in crumbs. Riot looks at him with gentle disdain.
“You know, I didn’t even touch any of the snacks. You’ve been through the whole pile yourself.”
Frank takes a moment to look around himself. The empty popcorn carton. The family size bag of Doritos. The clinking bottles at his feet. He grins.
“So what? I didn’t have any fucking breakfast because we had to get here so early. This was me making up for it.”
“Your blood must basically be syrup at this point.”
“Mmm, syrup. Tasty. Anyway, the Dark Stars aren’t terminators. That’s cool. What about I-69?”
"Yeah, I got nothing on them. Absolutely nothing. Apparently, they used to be a big deal, but then they went away for a while and literally nobody missed them. One of them's called Sherlock. Maybe he could invest his time investigating the mystery of why anyone thinks his tag team is still relevant now the Bastards are in town. Or perhaps the riddle of why a tag team would name itself after a road."
“They might be named after a road, Rob, but you know what?”
Riot sighs. He knows there’s a very bad joke coming.
“What?”
“Whether they’re on a road or not, 69 is a damn good position to be in.”
Frank grins again. Riot shakes his head.
"Honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm on tour with Roy Chubby Brown. But yes, OK. The only thing they're going to have in common with the 69 is the pair of them are going to finish this match upside down, and if they're lucky, they might be able to reach far enough to kiss my ass. No threats detected. Not from I-69, not from the Dark Stars, and not from anyone who stands in our way of becoming Imperial Crown Tag Team Champions. This is one of the reasons we came back to the business, Frank. To crush heads and win straps. We climb the next rung on the ladder on August 25th, and we step on the heads of the Dark Stars and I-69 to get there.”
“All this talk of climbing is making me thirsty. Pub?”
“Meh. Why not.”
Riot and Windsor stand up, dust themselves down, and head out into Halifax to find a bar. Your private audience with the two Bastards is over.