I'm That Guy | Hostile Intent RP#1
May 23, 2022 14:05:41 GMT -5
Robbie A, Drag, and 1 more like this
Post by Sexton Love on May 23, 2022 14:05:41 GMT -5
We open with a highlight package from the absolute carnage that was the Super Scramble. 10 different competitors. 60 minutes of mayhem. Wrestlers fighting in the ring, on the floor, all over the arena... yet the highlights are focused on just one man. He suplexes the Great Buta on the steel rampway. He slams Grimgor Ironhide in the middle of the ring. He catches Cheez in a submission. He takes the fight to Bloodied Fox, trading shots as the clock winds down.
Ding ding ding. The ring of the bell. The roar of the crowd.
And then... silence.
“No time off, babbeh. Back to the grind.”
We abruptly cut from the raucous Lakefront Arena to a dark and dingy warehouse gym. No glitz, no glamour, no distractions. In sharp contrast to the pandemonium of the Super Scramble, we hear a singular, impactful sound... repeated over and over.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
The sound grows louder and louder as we see more shots of the seemingly empty gym.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
We land on a close-up of the man himself, Sexton Love, as he powers through one more rep on the chest press machine.
CLANK.
He gets up from the bench, takes a swig of water, and addresses the camera.
“You know... part of me always knew it would come to this, Felix. Even before you busted up my shoulder on Open Fight Night... even before you stepped into my business at Masquerade all those months ago. Because the truth is... this little story between us, this little saga... it goes WAY back, babbeh. Back to when I first arrived in NLW. Back to when you ran your mouth online like a BITCH... talkin’ trash about Sexton Love every chance you could get. Ohhhh yeahhh. I remember, babbeh. All the virtue signaling. All the buzzwords.
Disgusting. Revolting. Despicable.
Words usually reserved to describe the fans of NLW... now being hurled in my direction by a generic wrestler with one name, no titles, and even less talent.”
Bodzilla shakes his head and takes another drink.
“But the more I think about it, babbeh... the more I believe that this story goes back even further than that. So why don’t we take a little trip, Felix? Why don’t we tell the story from the very, very beginning...?”
Beckoning for the camera to follow, the Lovely One starts walking towards the ring on the other side of the gym.
“I’d say that growing up, Felix was just like any other kitty in the litter... but that just wasn’t the case, babbeh. Because even at an early age, this cat grooved to his own jive, ya feel me? And he didn’t exactly fit it. He was an outcast, babbeh. A weirdo. And it was the same sad story, day after day.
...Gettin’ shoved into lockers...
...Shoved to the ground...
...And shoved face first into a toilet bowl, babbeh! Right after a droppin’ a slippery smooth DEUCE!”
A feigned look of pity is etched on Sexton’s face as he continues.
“Just another victim. Just another loser. Until one day he finally had enough. Until one day he finally decided to do something about it. He dragged his ass to the gym... whipped his beanpole boddeh into shape... and dedicated himself to the MARTIAL ARTS, babbeh. The Way of the Warrior. Discipline. Focus. Honor. Respect. Felix never started the fight, babbeh... but he DAMN SURE finished it.”
He climbs onto the ring apron and sits down, stretching his (MASSIVE) arms across the familiar ropes.
“Now... if you go back and take a look at Sexton Love... well then it’s a different story entirely, daddeh. An athletic prodigy. Football star. Homecoming King. PROM King. Hangin' and bangin'... pumpin' and dumpin'... poundin' WEIGHTS and poundin' DATES. The JOCK WITH THE COCK, babbeh. The guy that did whatever he wanted and WHOEVER he wanted... because even back then, I was still an ALPHA MALE.
Was I a bully? Was I a prick?
You’re damn right I was... and PROUD OF IT, babbeh... because in this world and in this business, you’re either a BULLY or you’re a VICTIM. And Sexton Love was never a victim.”
He takes a long look around the gym.
“So that’s what this is really all about, Felix. I get it now. I get why you’ve got a problem with Sexton Love. And I get why these losers chant your name. It’s because I’m that guy. That guy you’ve always hated. That guy you want to get what’s coming to him. That guy you want to punch SQUARE IN THE MOUTH, babbeh... to shut him up once and for all. But the irony is, Felix... you’re nothing without that guy. Those big bullies back in the day? They forced you to step up and become a man. And now Sexton Love is forcing you to step up and become a star. Saturday night on pay-per-view, the entire world will be watching... and they want you to give Sexton Love exactly what he deserves. They want you to win the NLW No Limit Championship. They want to see the good guy finally beat the bad guy.
Because believe me, babbeh... I’m as bad as they come.”
Sexton pulls himself up again and steps into the ring.
“On Saturday, May 28th... at Hostile Intent... it’s the end of our story, Felix. A story as old as time itself, babbeh. And I want you in the role of the hero. I want you at your absolute best. I want the people to chant your name. I want all the fighting spirit that you’ve got, babbeh. Because it’s ANYTHING GOES for the No Limit Title!
I want you to fight for yourself...
I want you to fight for your partner...
I want you to fight for the fans...
I want you to fight for every single person, young and old, that’s been pushed around by a guy like me...
...And then I want you to lose.”
Ding ding ding. The ring of the bell. The roar of the crowd.
And then... silence.
“No time off, babbeh. Back to the grind.”
We abruptly cut from the raucous Lakefront Arena to a dark and dingy warehouse gym. No glitz, no glamour, no distractions. In sharp contrast to the pandemonium of the Super Scramble, we hear a singular, impactful sound... repeated over and over.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
The sound grows louder and louder as we see more shots of the seemingly empty gym.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
We land on a close-up of the man himself, Sexton Love, as he powers through one more rep on the chest press machine.
CLANK.
He gets up from the bench, takes a swig of water, and addresses the camera.
“You know... part of me always knew it would come to this, Felix. Even before you busted up my shoulder on Open Fight Night... even before you stepped into my business at Masquerade all those months ago. Because the truth is... this little story between us, this little saga... it goes WAY back, babbeh. Back to when I first arrived in NLW. Back to when you ran your mouth online like a BITCH... talkin’ trash about Sexton Love every chance you could get. Ohhhh yeahhh. I remember, babbeh. All the virtue signaling. All the buzzwords.
Disgusting. Revolting. Despicable.
Words usually reserved to describe the fans of NLW... now being hurled in my direction by a generic wrestler with one name, no titles, and even less talent.”
Bodzilla shakes his head and takes another drink.
“But the more I think about it, babbeh... the more I believe that this story goes back even further than that. So why don’t we take a little trip, Felix? Why don’t we tell the story from the very, very beginning...?”
Beckoning for the camera to follow, the Lovely One starts walking towards the ring on the other side of the gym.
“I’d say that growing up, Felix was just like any other kitty in the litter... but that just wasn’t the case, babbeh. Because even at an early age, this cat grooved to his own jive, ya feel me? And he didn’t exactly fit it. He was an outcast, babbeh. A weirdo. And it was the same sad story, day after day.
...Gettin’ shoved into lockers...
...Shoved to the ground...
...And shoved face first into a toilet bowl, babbeh! Right after a droppin’ a slippery smooth DEUCE!”
A feigned look of pity is etched on Sexton’s face as he continues.
“Just another victim. Just another loser. Until one day he finally had enough. Until one day he finally decided to do something about it. He dragged his ass to the gym... whipped his beanpole boddeh into shape... and dedicated himself to the MARTIAL ARTS, babbeh. The Way of the Warrior. Discipline. Focus. Honor. Respect. Felix never started the fight, babbeh... but he DAMN SURE finished it.”
He climbs onto the ring apron and sits down, stretching his (MASSIVE) arms across the familiar ropes.
“Now... if you go back and take a look at Sexton Love... well then it’s a different story entirely, daddeh. An athletic prodigy. Football star. Homecoming King. PROM King. Hangin' and bangin'... pumpin' and dumpin'... poundin' WEIGHTS and poundin' DATES. The JOCK WITH THE COCK, babbeh. The guy that did whatever he wanted and WHOEVER he wanted... because even back then, I was still an ALPHA MALE.
Was I a bully? Was I a prick?
You’re damn right I was... and PROUD OF IT, babbeh... because in this world and in this business, you’re either a BULLY or you’re a VICTIM. And Sexton Love was never a victim.”
He takes a long look around the gym.
“So that’s what this is really all about, Felix. I get it now. I get why you’ve got a problem with Sexton Love. And I get why these losers chant your name. It’s because I’m that guy. That guy you’ve always hated. That guy you want to get what’s coming to him. That guy you want to punch SQUARE IN THE MOUTH, babbeh... to shut him up once and for all. But the irony is, Felix... you’re nothing without that guy. Those big bullies back in the day? They forced you to step up and become a man. And now Sexton Love is forcing you to step up and become a star. Saturday night on pay-per-view, the entire world will be watching... and they want you to give Sexton Love exactly what he deserves. They want you to win the NLW No Limit Championship. They want to see the good guy finally beat the bad guy.
Because believe me, babbeh... I’m as bad as they come.”
Sexton pulls himself up again and steps into the ring.
“On Saturday, May 28th... at Hostile Intent... it’s the end of our story, Felix. A story as old as time itself, babbeh. And I want you in the role of the hero. I want you at your absolute best. I want the people to chant your name. I want all the fighting spirit that you’ve got, babbeh. Because it’s ANYTHING GOES for the No Limit Title!
I want you to fight for yourself...
I want you to fight for your partner...
I want you to fight for the fans...
I want you to fight for every single person, young and old, that’s been pushed around by a guy like me...
...And then I want you to lose.”
