A Badman Goes Home (Rp#1)

[Frank Windsor]

The camera panned up from static to the Bastard’s gym in Blackpool. A figure is stood in a wrestling ring; he has his head down not showing his face to the camera as he leans on the ropes. It is Frank Windsor. Down to the left of his is his wrestling bag. “How do you think this is going to end for you Donzig?” he said. “We may have faced each other in NPW and eventually you and your Empire mooks were defeated but this time you’ve made it personal by have one of your morons put their fucking hands on my woman. They put their hands on Natalia? Oh tell me they didn’t do anything that stupid? Oh you picked the wrong one to put your hands on. She’s going to absolutely destroy that bitch that put her hands on her. You do know who she is don’t you? Look her up on YouTube. Natalia wrestled for NEW and within months of her debut wrestled in the main event of their biggest pay per view of the year for the NEW World Heavyweight Championship belt.” He slowly lifted his head up and looked directly down the lens of the camera. “You think that because you got away with it that she’s not going to punish your bird?” he smirked before he shook his head. “She can fight her own battles and will probably be already plotting your bird’s downfall my folically challenge mate. She’s going to punt her right in the cunt buddy. And then my boys get attack by your other goons? Those guys are big enough to stand up for themselves so they’ll get their own revenge. It is really fucking funny isn’t it Donzig. It’s your own Modus Operandi right?” He reached down to his bag and pulled out a few of the belts that were in it. “Your way of getting yourself over is to jump the Bastards from behind,” Frank said. “You always hide behind a bunch of punks whose only other job would be to be doormen at some back alley knocking shop. It’s the way a coward works and you won’t be able to get one over on any other fucking merit. You aren’t even worth the hassle to be honest but as Billy’s going to be busy winning the Wrestle: UK World Championship belt on the show I may need to do something to take my mind off of not being in the Main Event of my first show back home since leaving when lockdown finished.” He caressed the Wrestle: UK Tag Championship belt and then put it over his left shoulder before he looked down the camera lens once again. “Yes that’s right,” Frank continued. “The King of Yorkshire returns to home to Yorkshire; the hometown boy returns home and needed something to do so this fucking Street Fight with Donzig is going to be off the fucking chain; fuck it I might even use the chain on the bitch. I saw you insulting my fucking peeps, Donzig. You think by insulting the people of Yorkshire it may effect what happens in the ring? I saw you mincing around Leeds like some Jimmy Saville wannabie. You think I’ll get so angry that it’ll fuck me right up? Do you not know me? I do not fucking think so matey.” Frank nodded as he continued his rant of sorts. “Have you seen the Bastards lately?” he said. “We are Gold fucking Standard; hell we’re dripping more gold these days than Mr fucking T and his momma too. And with Fowler bringing more back to the group in Leeds it’ll cement it to the whole fucking world why the Bastards are the dog’s dangly bits. You think by side stepping me and moaning about what my fellow fucking Bastard for the World Championship is disrespecting the others in the fucking main event of Legacy. Yeah we all know Fowler’s going to win the belt and bring it back to our collection but disrespecting the two Eddie’s should piss them off.” He pulled out some of the other belts from his bag and laid them out in the ring. Amongst them were the GCW World Heavyweight Championship belt and the tag belts from SWAT and NPW. “I saw that they’ve announced a number one contender’s match for the Wrestle: UK Tag Championship belts,” Frank smirked. “The Dorkstars? Them again? How many attempts at tag gold does this couple of space punks think they can get against the greatest team in the whole of professional wrestling? The King of Stats, Robbie would know this if he isn’t drinking at one of his shitty dive bars until a Blackpool slapper tries to give him one of her fucking diseases but I digress as we need some fresh fucking blood to go against for the gold straps.” Frank laughed quite hard that it was heard around the gym. “Then their opponents,” he continued. “A couple of fucking bitches from our past too. Now these two have been the fucking proverbial pains in our asses for years in one form or another but always come up fucking short. It’s like fucking Frankenstein and his fucking ‘roid monster against the picture perfect tag team; but it’ll be sweet when we destroy ANOTHER fucking team that sent against us.” Two huge monsters of men walked into the gym and both nodded at Frank as they climbed into the ring and began to stretch out. “Fowler’s got the main event even if he pulls a fucking quad stretching in the back or when he was cowardly fucking jumped again,” Frank said as he winked. “Oh what a fucking surprise Donzig. Jumping someone from behind happening again? Nothing changes with you mate? Come on mate; just bring it to our faces. We’re big boys and we can take it but if you want to attack my woman she’ll fuck you up. Anyway now fuck off as I’ve got some training to do.”