Post by robriot on Nov 12, 2022 12:30:00 GMT -5
“Nice gym, Leon. Want to see ours?”
We hear Rob Riot’s words before we see anything on the screen, but the feed goes live now. The cameras have been taken to a place that they’re not often allowed to go. It’s The Snake Pit in Wigan, England. This is the place where catch-as-catch-can wrestling was born. This is where some of the toughest and most feared submission wrestlers and strikers in the history of the business both cut and broke their teeth. It has a history that goes back more than a century, and it’s the place Rob Riot learned to wrestle. It’s also the place where The Bastards continue to do their training.
In the ring, Billy Fowler and Frank Windsor are sparring. They dance around each other, each man totally familiar with the other’s repertoire. They don’t strike to hurt - that would be stupid this close to a major event - but they certainly let each other know that they’re there with each attempted hold, kick or punch. Every time Fowler hits Windsor, Windsor grins at him. Every time Windsor grins, Fowler gets frustrated. When Fowler gets frustrated, Windsor takes advantage of the distraction - and Fowler learns not to get distracted. This is how training works. This is how wrestlers improve. Riot speaks as he watches.
"You think we're jesters, or jokers, disgraces to the sport of wrestling? Leon, we come from where the style of today was born. This is our bread and butter. This is our culture, our way of combat. We're the last bastions of the English mentality; we work hard, we drink hard, and we play hard. We take pleasure in what we do, and we enjoy our achievements, but we put blood, sweat and tears into making sure we achieve them. The Bastards have come to dominate the wrestling world not because everybody laughed at our jokes but because everybody fell for them. Everyone we've beaten has made the same mistake that you're making right now. You saw the end product - the belts on the car, the tour t-shirts, the merch sales - and not the work that went into it. This is the work. Look at it carefully."
Riot steps away for a moment, allowing the camera to focus on Windsor and Fowler in the ring for a few more seconds. They look sharp and dangerous, engrossed in the moment. The Riot Star watches along with the rest of the audience and nods his approval before turning back to the camera.
"You speak of hubris and corruption. I see combat and then celebration. You talk of England and English wrestlers like you know what they're supposed to be or how they're supposed to behave. Leon, in case this fact has somehow escaped you, you're Belgian. Belgian has given the world three things; chocolate, Poirot, and a global centre for grey-faced bureaucrats. In fact, I'm going to have to reduce that to two things because you didn't come up with Poirot. That was Agatha Christie. She wanted to choose an unlikely location for a genius crime fighter to come from, so she settled on Europe's least interesting country. Trust me; if I want advice about class, culture, or the right way for a fighter to behave, I won't be getting it from you, Tintin. You talk about foolish bravado. Foolish bravado is what got me to the top of the game. What has sitting on the sidelines ever got you? You've stayed there waiting for the right opportunity for so long that you've got splinters in your arse, and now you expect people to kiss it because you think your inaction demonstrates your refinement. It doesn't. It demonstrates your cowardice."
Shaking his head once more, Riot pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes to YouTube. There’s a specific part of Leon’s promo that he wants to play back. A few moments pass as he searches for it, and then he plays it with the volume turned up loud so the audience at home can hear.
"Wrestle:UK has been the playground of the Bastards since the beginning; this much is true. They have dominated and controlled both the world and the tag team championships, repelling all challengers and establishing this company as their playground. But then we showed up."
Riot snorts, turning the phone towards the camera and pointing at Van Zandt as if to say, "ha, this guy," before replacing it in his pocket.
“There’s your fatal mistake, Tintin. You exposed your biggest flaw. You might have been watching tapes of me, but you haven’t watched a single tape of our opponents from the past year. If you had, you might have come up with something original. That whole “but then we showed up” schtick is the same crap that every tag team, every faction, every entity that’s walked through the doors of W:UK has said to the Bastards, and we’ve turned them all back the same way. You have the gall to try to lecture me about what did or didn’t happen in NPW? I know what happened in NPW, Leon. I was there. We blew the doors off that joint and made it our own, too. Ask The Revenants. In fact, ask any one of the ragtag gangs and alliances that Donzig has tried to put in our way. Ask the last bastions of SWAT what happened to their promotion and their champions. They’re all gone, and they were all sent away with their tails between their legs in the same way you will. You’ve come in with the same dismissive strategy, and it’ll end with your dismissal. For all this talk, you’re just the next in line. So, stay in line, Tintin, and get to the back of it. This isn’t a fight you can win. HEY, BOYS..”
Riot calls up to Fowler and Windsor in the ring. It’s his time to step in. Windsor pats Fowler on the shoulder and steps out. The work will continue, as does Riot.
“...let’s do this Snake Pit style. But do it respectfully.”
He nods at the camera.
”After all, we wouldn’t want to offend the Belgians.”
The Bastards laugh as the scene fades out.
We hear Rob Riot’s words before we see anything on the screen, but the feed goes live now. The cameras have been taken to a place that they’re not often allowed to go. It’s The Snake Pit in Wigan, England. This is the place where catch-as-catch-can wrestling was born. This is where some of the toughest and most feared submission wrestlers and strikers in the history of the business both cut and broke their teeth. It has a history that goes back more than a century, and it’s the place Rob Riot learned to wrestle. It’s also the place where The Bastards continue to do their training.
In the ring, Billy Fowler and Frank Windsor are sparring. They dance around each other, each man totally familiar with the other’s repertoire. They don’t strike to hurt - that would be stupid this close to a major event - but they certainly let each other know that they’re there with each attempted hold, kick or punch. Every time Fowler hits Windsor, Windsor grins at him. Every time Windsor grins, Fowler gets frustrated. When Fowler gets frustrated, Windsor takes advantage of the distraction - and Fowler learns not to get distracted. This is how training works. This is how wrestlers improve. Riot speaks as he watches.
"You think we're jesters, or jokers, disgraces to the sport of wrestling? Leon, we come from where the style of today was born. This is our bread and butter. This is our culture, our way of combat. We're the last bastions of the English mentality; we work hard, we drink hard, and we play hard. We take pleasure in what we do, and we enjoy our achievements, but we put blood, sweat and tears into making sure we achieve them. The Bastards have come to dominate the wrestling world not because everybody laughed at our jokes but because everybody fell for them. Everyone we've beaten has made the same mistake that you're making right now. You saw the end product - the belts on the car, the tour t-shirts, the merch sales - and not the work that went into it. This is the work. Look at it carefully."
Riot steps away for a moment, allowing the camera to focus on Windsor and Fowler in the ring for a few more seconds. They look sharp and dangerous, engrossed in the moment. The Riot Star watches along with the rest of the audience and nods his approval before turning back to the camera.
"You speak of hubris and corruption. I see combat and then celebration. You talk of England and English wrestlers like you know what they're supposed to be or how they're supposed to behave. Leon, in case this fact has somehow escaped you, you're Belgian. Belgian has given the world three things; chocolate, Poirot, and a global centre for grey-faced bureaucrats. In fact, I'm going to have to reduce that to two things because you didn't come up with Poirot. That was Agatha Christie. She wanted to choose an unlikely location for a genius crime fighter to come from, so she settled on Europe's least interesting country. Trust me; if I want advice about class, culture, or the right way for a fighter to behave, I won't be getting it from you, Tintin. You talk about foolish bravado. Foolish bravado is what got me to the top of the game. What has sitting on the sidelines ever got you? You've stayed there waiting for the right opportunity for so long that you've got splinters in your arse, and now you expect people to kiss it because you think your inaction demonstrates your refinement. It doesn't. It demonstrates your cowardice."
Shaking his head once more, Riot pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes to YouTube. There’s a specific part of Leon’s promo that he wants to play back. A few moments pass as he searches for it, and then he plays it with the volume turned up loud so the audience at home can hear.
"Wrestle:UK has been the playground of the Bastards since the beginning; this much is true. They have dominated and controlled both the world and the tag team championships, repelling all challengers and establishing this company as their playground. But then we showed up."
Riot snorts, turning the phone towards the camera and pointing at Van Zandt as if to say, "ha, this guy," before replacing it in his pocket.
“There’s your fatal mistake, Tintin. You exposed your biggest flaw. You might have been watching tapes of me, but you haven’t watched a single tape of our opponents from the past year. If you had, you might have come up with something original. That whole “but then we showed up” schtick is the same crap that every tag team, every faction, every entity that’s walked through the doors of W:UK has said to the Bastards, and we’ve turned them all back the same way. You have the gall to try to lecture me about what did or didn’t happen in NPW? I know what happened in NPW, Leon. I was there. We blew the doors off that joint and made it our own, too. Ask The Revenants. In fact, ask any one of the ragtag gangs and alliances that Donzig has tried to put in our way. Ask the last bastions of SWAT what happened to their promotion and their champions. They’re all gone, and they were all sent away with their tails between their legs in the same way you will. You’ve come in with the same dismissive strategy, and it’ll end with your dismissal. For all this talk, you’re just the next in line. So, stay in line, Tintin, and get to the back of it. This isn’t a fight you can win. HEY, BOYS..”
Riot calls up to Fowler and Windsor in the ring. It’s his time to step in. Windsor pats Fowler on the shoulder and steps out. The work will continue, as does Riot.
“...let’s do this Snake Pit style. But do it respectfully.”
He nods at the camera.
”After all, we wouldn’t want to offend the Belgians.”
The Bastards laugh as the scene fades out.