Fun 90's Memories or Nightmare Fuel? YOU DECIDE! [Academy]
May 16, 2022 7:51:23 GMT -5
Dave D-Flipz, bloodiedfox, and 2 more like this
Post by Robbie A on May 16, 2022 7:51:23 GMT -5
Fade in, Rob Arnold walks into a locker room. Leon Chant is stood front and centre and it’s easy to infer he’s been waiting for Arnold, who looks past Chant and at Riley Richards, who is sat in the corner, eyes wider than we’ve seen before, his body is rigid, like he’s under some kind of trance.
“What’s up with the kid?” Arnold asks having quickly inspected Richards.
“Well, as far as I can figure out, he’s not really coping with the notion of who our next defence is against. Well…one of them anyway.”
“He gets like that occasionally, remember the Zoran lead up?” He scoffs. “Who’s got him ruffled this time?”
“The Crinkly Bottom Boys.” This prompts a change in expression from Arnold.
“Wait, Crinkly Bottom, that’s not who I think it is, is it?”
“Noel Edmunds and Mr Blobby, yes. Straight out of the nineties and into NLW.”
“And Riley’s afraid of Noel? Completely get it.” He nods, Chant however does not seem to agree.
“No! He’s afraid of that pink and yellow abomination that makes Thanos look like a boy next door!” Leon raises a finger. “Although, yes, Noel is a monster as well, I’ll grant you that.”
“What’s wrong with Mr Blobby?!” Arnold protests.
“What’s wrong with him? I mean other than the crazy eyes, a child predator smile and bow tie to match, and the fact that he just terrorises members of the public whilst only being able to say his name? At least Hodor was helpful!” Chant stops himself, fearing he may not stop ranting if he continues. “Other than all that? Nah Rob, nothing wrong with him.”
“...I always found him endearing whilst I was growing up.” Arnold shrugs.
“Of course you did.” Chant rolls his eyes.
“And why shouldn’t I? Saturday nights watching Blobby keep Noel in check, pranking members of the BBC and generally being entertaining as hell!”
“You and I have vastly different recollections of how that all was.” Arnold goes to retort, but Riley finally breaks the back and forth.
“Mr…Mr Arnold? How does the pink monster bleed? He…he looks like he’s made of rubber and nightmares.” Riley says slowly, carefully, semi-catatonic. Arnold looks past Chant again as Richards speaks before back to the former NLW Heavyweight Champion.
“Bleed?” Arnold raises a quizzical eyebrow at Chant. “What’s he on about?”
“Well, since it’s Hostile Intent, and you know…it get’s all a bit more hostile in nature, so we’re defending in a First Blood Match.” Arnold, who had been fairly jovial, frowns, he looks away and folds him arms.
“I’ve never been a fan of first blood matches, I can cope with the violence but the human body is random, you could headbutt a turnbuckle a hundred times and nothing, and then on the hundred and first? Boom, impact cut. I mean, we’ve all had moments in our lives where suddenly we’re bleeding and gone ‘how the fuck did I do that?’, and in this match? That’s game over.” He sighs. “Add to this, one of our opponents is Mr Blobby, made of rubber-“
“And nightmares!” Richards repeats.
“…And nightmares.” Arnold reluctantly adds with a growl. “And as for Noel, let’s be honest as time has gone on you begin to wonder if he’s a lizard person or what substance he would actually bleed if you cut him open.”
“I never had you down for a conspiracy theorist, boss.” Chant remarks with a smirk.
“I’m not, I’m just emphasising just how big a cunt the guy is.” Arnold shrugs. “Anyway, are these guys for real? Or is this just some giant joke?”
“It's kinda hard to tell, the line’s pretty blurred. They did actually win the XHF Tag Titles.”
“They did?” Arnold spins around with a look of awe and confusion.
“Here, take a look, some highlights of these guys since they’ve been here.” Chant pulls his phone out and hands what can only be assume is a video he’s put together. Arnold presses play...
“What the actual fuck?!” Arnold hands back the phone. “What is Blobby snorting?”
“Sherbert…allegedly.” Chant is quick to add the allegedly.
“And what the hell was with all that at Normandy?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m not sure anybody does.”
“Jesus Christ, Leon. It’s like somebody took one of the things I loved watching whilst I was growing up and just turned it into real nightmare fuel.” Chant says nothing in response, but just glances at the camera. Rob on the other hand sighs once more and looks at Richards, who is stiff as a board. “You’re really not okay, are you kid?”
Riley shakes his head.
“Okay, let’s go for a walk, clear both our heads, and I’ll figure out how we make these two bleed…if that’s at all possible.” He extends his hand and Riley grabs it, being pulled to his feet in the process. Arnold put his arm around him, indicating they should leave. “Seriously, Mr Blobby headbutting, dropkicking and piledriving people like it was always his calling...Kid, I know you’ve often asked me what like the old XHF was like, well…a lot like this.”
“Oh…How did you…and others cope with it?” Riley asks, hoping for a pearl of wisdom.
“Alcohol. A lot of people drank. I remember Off the Wagon when they were sober.” There’s an awkward pause. “Hey, you’re turning twenty one in a couple weeks, right?”
“Yeah….why?” Arnold shakes his head and bats a dismissive hand in the air.
“Unrelated. Don’t worry about it.” Arnold finally walks Richards out of the room, Chant just shakes his head and looks back at the camera.
“I asked for a new challenge after The Straight Edge society, and sure, maybe I asked a little too hard, maybe I made some threats. Maybe management have gone zero tolerance after what Nathan Cage got into with Gunn, because their response is to stack the deck against us. The Crinkly Bottom Boys, a first blood match. A man that has no blood, nor probably a soul, and a…well…a Mr Blobby.” Chant shrugs, there’s not really many other ways to describe the Blobster. “Normally we’d be confident, or at least I would, clearly the pink and yellow smiling creep is triggering something in the kid but we’ll get him past that…hopefully. We know Blobby is a one Blob wrecking ball, but Leon Chant stands up to everything, Riley Richards has more than proved he can cope with all shapes and sizes. We can cope with the Crinkly Bottom Boys…but in a first blood match? Let’s be honest folks, this one doesn’t look great for The Academy.”
Chant slowly starts to grin, despite the negative tone on his last sentence.
“But when has that ever stopped us? We’ve always backed ourselves, be it as favourites, underdogs or otherwise and this will be no different. We’ll meet them head on and make sure that they know they’ve been in a fight. We’ve been damn proud to hold these titles for three months, we’ve been so damn proud we’ve shown them off across the Network, we’ve flown the NLW flag as well as our own damn flag and no matter what happens at Hostile Intent, nobody should be able to question just how legitimate The Academy are.” He slaps his chest as he works himself up even more. “No matter what happens, we aren’t going anywhere, we know, people at home, they know, and all the guys in the back know that The Academy is the spine of NLW. So even if something goes wrong in this match which, as Rob implied, can be a game of chance, we’ll be back, better, stronger, hungrier.”
Chant nods.
“Because that’s what we’ve been from day one. Day. Freaking. One. So if nothing else, we’ll bring the fight, and we’ll ask some questions of The Crinkly Bottom Boys that others haven’t been able to yet? Like how many more dib dabs can Blobby go through? I’d say till either the world runs out…or ‘till his head explodes. We’ll find out if Noel actually has any blood left in that withered husk he calls a body! Maybe we’ll find out what’s inside a Mr Blobby.” He stops and reconsiders what he just said. “No…actually I’m not sure anybody’s ready for that...But I think I’ve made my point! I told you a few weeks back that real champions defend against any and all comers, and that’s exactly what we’ve done, and that’s exactly what we’ll keep doing…Now this is normally when I’d say through blood, sweat and tears, but at Hostile Intent, it’ll just be sweat and tears.”
Chant winks.
“One way or another, Crinkly Bottom Boys, we’re going to find out just what you’re made out of. Perhaps quite literally, and if that’s the case, be prepared to hear those three favourite words of mine: Oh. Hell. Yes.”
Chant leaves, and we cut.
“What’s up with the kid?” Arnold asks having quickly inspected Richards.
“Well, as far as I can figure out, he’s not really coping with the notion of who our next defence is against. Well…one of them anyway.”
“He gets like that occasionally, remember the Zoran lead up?” He scoffs. “Who’s got him ruffled this time?”
“The Crinkly Bottom Boys.” This prompts a change in expression from Arnold.
“Wait, Crinkly Bottom, that’s not who I think it is, is it?”
“Noel Edmunds and Mr Blobby, yes. Straight out of the nineties and into NLW.”
“And Riley’s afraid of Noel? Completely get it.” He nods, Chant however does not seem to agree.
“No! He’s afraid of that pink and yellow abomination that makes Thanos look like a boy next door!” Leon raises a finger. “Although, yes, Noel is a monster as well, I’ll grant you that.”
“What’s wrong with Mr Blobby?!” Arnold protests.
“What’s wrong with him? I mean other than the crazy eyes, a child predator smile and bow tie to match, and the fact that he just terrorises members of the public whilst only being able to say his name? At least Hodor was helpful!” Chant stops himself, fearing he may not stop ranting if he continues. “Other than all that? Nah Rob, nothing wrong with him.”
“...I always found him endearing whilst I was growing up.” Arnold shrugs.
“Of course you did.” Chant rolls his eyes.
“And why shouldn’t I? Saturday nights watching Blobby keep Noel in check, pranking members of the BBC and generally being entertaining as hell!”
“You and I have vastly different recollections of how that all was.” Arnold goes to retort, but Riley finally breaks the back and forth.
“Mr…Mr Arnold? How does the pink monster bleed? He…he looks like he’s made of rubber and nightmares.” Riley says slowly, carefully, semi-catatonic. Arnold looks past Chant again as Richards speaks before back to the former NLW Heavyweight Champion.
“Bleed?” Arnold raises a quizzical eyebrow at Chant. “What’s he on about?”
“Well, since it’s Hostile Intent, and you know…it get’s all a bit more hostile in nature, so we’re defending in a First Blood Match.” Arnold, who had been fairly jovial, frowns, he looks away and folds him arms.
“I’ve never been a fan of first blood matches, I can cope with the violence but the human body is random, you could headbutt a turnbuckle a hundred times and nothing, and then on the hundred and first? Boom, impact cut. I mean, we’ve all had moments in our lives where suddenly we’re bleeding and gone ‘how the fuck did I do that?’, and in this match? That’s game over.” He sighs. “Add to this, one of our opponents is Mr Blobby, made of rubber-“
“And nightmares!” Richards repeats.
“…And nightmares.” Arnold reluctantly adds with a growl. “And as for Noel, let’s be honest as time has gone on you begin to wonder if he’s a lizard person or what substance he would actually bleed if you cut him open.”
“I never had you down for a conspiracy theorist, boss.” Chant remarks with a smirk.
“I’m not, I’m just emphasising just how big a cunt the guy is.” Arnold shrugs. “Anyway, are these guys for real? Or is this just some giant joke?”
“It's kinda hard to tell, the line’s pretty blurred. They did actually win the XHF Tag Titles.”
“They did?” Arnold spins around with a look of awe and confusion.
“Here, take a look, some highlights of these guys since they’ve been here.” Chant pulls his phone out and hands what can only be assume is a video he’s put together. Arnold presses play...
“What the actual fuck?!” Arnold hands back the phone. “What is Blobby snorting?”
“Sherbert…allegedly.” Chant is quick to add the allegedly.
“And what the hell was with all that at Normandy?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m not sure anybody does.”
“Jesus Christ, Leon. It’s like somebody took one of the things I loved watching whilst I was growing up and just turned it into real nightmare fuel.” Chant says nothing in response, but just glances at the camera. Rob on the other hand sighs once more and looks at Richards, who is stiff as a board. “You’re really not okay, are you kid?”
Riley shakes his head.
“Okay, let’s go for a walk, clear both our heads, and I’ll figure out how we make these two bleed…if that’s at all possible.” He extends his hand and Riley grabs it, being pulled to his feet in the process. Arnold put his arm around him, indicating they should leave. “Seriously, Mr Blobby headbutting, dropkicking and piledriving people like it was always his calling...Kid, I know you’ve often asked me what like the old XHF was like, well…a lot like this.”
“Oh…How did you…and others cope with it?” Riley asks, hoping for a pearl of wisdom.
“Alcohol. A lot of people drank. I remember Off the Wagon when they were sober.” There’s an awkward pause. “Hey, you’re turning twenty one in a couple weeks, right?”
“Yeah….why?” Arnold shakes his head and bats a dismissive hand in the air.
“Unrelated. Don’t worry about it.” Arnold finally walks Richards out of the room, Chant just shakes his head and looks back at the camera.
“I asked for a new challenge after The Straight Edge society, and sure, maybe I asked a little too hard, maybe I made some threats. Maybe management have gone zero tolerance after what Nathan Cage got into with Gunn, because their response is to stack the deck against us. The Crinkly Bottom Boys, a first blood match. A man that has no blood, nor probably a soul, and a…well…a Mr Blobby.” Chant shrugs, there’s not really many other ways to describe the Blobster. “Normally we’d be confident, or at least I would, clearly the pink and yellow smiling creep is triggering something in the kid but we’ll get him past that…hopefully. We know Blobby is a one Blob wrecking ball, but Leon Chant stands up to everything, Riley Richards has more than proved he can cope with all shapes and sizes. We can cope with the Crinkly Bottom Boys…but in a first blood match? Let’s be honest folks, this one doesn’t look great for The Academy.”
Chant slowly starts to grin, despite the negative tone on his last sentence.
“But when has that ever stopped us? We’ve always backed ourselves, be it as favourites, underdogs or otherwise and this will be no different. We’ll meet them head on and make sure that they know they’ve been in a fight. We’ve been damn proud to hold these titles for three months, we’ve been so damn proud we’ve shown them off across the Network, we’ve flown the NLW flag as well as our own damn flag and no matter what happens at Hostile Intent, nobody should be able to question just how legitimate The Academy are.” He slaps his chest as he works himself up even more. “No matter what happens, we aren’t going anywhere, we know, people at home, they know, and all the guys in the back know that The Academy is the spine of NLW. So even if something goes wrong in this match which, as Rob implied, can be a game of chance, we’ll be back, better, stronger, hungrier.”
Chant nods.
“Because that’s what we’ve been from day one. Day. Freaking. One. So if nothing else, we’ll bring the fight, and we’ll ask some questions of The Crinkly Bottom Boys that others haven’t been able to yet? Like how many more dib dabs can Blobby go through? I’d say till either the world runs out…or ‘till his head explodes. We’ll find out if Noel actually has any blood left in that withered husk he calls a body! Maybe we’ll find out what’s inside a Mr Blobby.” He stops and reconsiders what he just said. “No…actually I’m not sure anybody’s ready for that...But I think I’ve made my point! I told you a few weeks back that real champions defend against any and all comers, and that’s exactly what we’ve done, and that’s exactly what we’ll keep doing…Now this is normally when I’d say through blood, sweat and tears, but at Hostile Intent, it’ll just be sweat and tears.”
Chant winks.
“One way or another, Crinkly Bottom Boys, we’re going to find out just what you’re made out of. Perhaps quite literally, and if that’s the case, be prepared to hear those three favourite words of mine: Oh. Hell. Yes.”
Chant leaves, and we cut.
